#and the pieces of shit who use and defend it

[moonlitlillypop]

There's nothing to forgive Kris didn't give a shit about the bullying in the first place, and the only people who don't treat her like dirt are the darkners who are literally purpose built to wanna help people, Kris who again never gave a shit in the first place, and Noelle whose into being bullied. Her whole story arc so far is literally about how she never got a chance to not be a bully.

Kris does defend Susie from being killed because that is a good thing to do. They also react negatively to even the concept of seriously hurting their friends. And yeah they throw around the soul but that thing is literally the vessel through which they take damage so we know they are not actually hurting us outside of the weird route. And they're only doing that much to either protect Noelle from our weird route shenanigans and do the knight's bidding, which again, we don't have enough information to say why that's happening. Like there's no piece of information to connect that motivation to the player yet apart from "these are two things that happened".

And why are you so obsessed with wanting characters to be killed in this game? Is that the only reason you liked undertale? Like this is very clearly a different type of story with different stakes and different consequences. The purpose of the weird route is not mindless violence. It's very cruel sure, but it has a specific end goal that we don't have the details about yet. All we know is that it revolves around controlling Noelle and making her stronger. And we don't even know if berdly's gonna pull through yet.

AND the knife has come back to be relevant MORE THAN ONCE SO FAR. And again the story is only halfway through. We haven't even hit the major climax yet. You know what a climax is right? The part of the story where you get payoffs for things. It's where 99 percent of Chekovs guns go off and you're mad that this one didn't go off prematurely. You're just looking for things to hate and doing a bad job

Still can't get over the fact that Toby Fox dreamed up a game ending, but he decided he wanted to make something a little less ambitious first, so instead he made the most influential indie game of all time

[itelya]

Can I request ex military husband Sukuna and Toji reacting to their son calling y/n the b word? 😂 I just know they’d be furious and practically leap over furniture to snatch the kid up not knowing it’s a prank

a/n: ty for the request it was fun to write😂 also tysm for the 1k followers! 💗 ⟢﹒ masterlist

You're in the kitchen, chopping fruit, the sun filtering gently through the curtains. Your son is sitting at the counter, his elbows propped, his eyes fixed on you. Too quiet. Too focused. He has that look, that posture... the one that announces a monumental stupidity.

"Mom... you are a bitch," he says quietly.

The word falls like a thunderclap in your ears. You stop dead in your tracks, the blade still in your hand. Your gaze slowly rises, your eyebrow arches, icy. You don't know whether to scream, burst out laughing, or simply disown him right then and there. Your heart is between disappointment and anger.

In the living room, deathly silence. Toji, slumped on the sofa, opens his eyes slowly, and Sukuna, leasing on the armchair, raises his head so quickly that his neck cracks. Toji freezers, his eyes fixed on their son, the expression of someone about to go into battle. Sukuna stands up without a word, his jaw clenched.

They exchange a look like two soldiers who've just picked up an enemy signal.

"He didn't say that..." Toji breathes.

"He dared." Sukuna replies, already moving.

Your son immediately turns pale. He should never have done that, even for a laugh. "IT-IT'S A PRANK! A TIKTOK! I SWEAR! IT WAS A JOKE, JUST TO SEE YOUR REACTIONS!"

"A prank?!" the two men repeat at the same time, their voices deepening.

Toji leaps from the couch. Sukuna crosses the room at terrifying speed, and their son rushes out of his chair, fleeing toward the dining room as if his life depended on it. Hiding behind the dining table makes him forget one detail: no piece of furniture can protect him from two highly trained ex-soldiers.

"When did they raise you to think a word like that should be tested?!" Toji snarls, stepping forward.

"Do you want us to laugh too by sending you to a retraining camp in Kyrgyzstan for six months?" Sukuna adds with such menacing calm that it sends shivers down your spine.

"But you were laughing when I said 'shit' at 4 years old!" their son desperately tries, accused from behind the table.

"To think I was ready to give you my old service knife for your next birthday..." Toji snarls, his gaze dark. "But forget that. I'd rather give it to the dog."

Your son opens his mouth to defend himself, but Sukuna raises his hand sharply, cutting cleanly.

"You want to be smart? Fine. Apology letter to your mother. Three hundred push-ups, and while you're doing them, you keep repeating 'Sorry, Mom, I'm an impressionable idiot' over and over again."

Toji quietly snuck up behind him. He grabbed him in a flash, lifting your son with a firm arm. "You want to talk like an adult? You're going to live like a soldier."

"But I've seen other kids do it...!" your son complains, offering to climb out of Toji's enormous arms.

"A follower, too?" roars Sukuna, outraged. "I was a unit captain, not some pathetic TikTok sheep."

Toji chuckles softly, that sadistic little laugh you recognize all too well. "Let's start by shaving his head. It'll help him think."

Your son starts to cry for real, shaking like a leaf. He doesn't want to lose his beautiful hair. You approach, calm, gentle, your hand outstretched.

He turns to you, relieved. This is your only chance. His light. His mother. You gently place your hand on his head, stroking his hair like a promise... then you smile. "I'm the one who's going to shave it."

A cry escapes his throat, pure and sincere. "Mom, I'm sorry! I swear I'll never do it again! I love you! You're the best parents in the world! I'm too young to lose my hair!"

Toji and Sukuna cross their arms, stoic. They look at him, already deciding what to do with him.

"Too late, soldier. The uniform starts now."

[beritybaker]

Itsy Bitsy

This one is for @steddiesongfics June 2025 prompt: summer songs.

Rating: T | WC: 2,105 | Tags: Public Pool, Speedo, Flirting, POV Eddie, Pre-Steddie, Gareth is a Little Shit | ao3 Song: "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini," by Brian Hyland

I’m gonna kill him.

It’s not that Eddie is ashamed of his body. He’s also not that worried about getting weird looks, because he’s used to those. The problem is more the indignity of it all; he’s supposed to be dark and mysterious, but as he stares at himself in the locker room mirror, he sees anything but mystery. The swimsuit Gareth is making him wear leaves very little to the imagination.

Still, the thing is a consequence of his own actions. He’s been well and truly hoisted by his own petard. Normally, Jeff would’ve jumped in to defend him and be the voice of reason, but the fact that they’d been betting on his love life had earned them the cold shoulder for the time being. The result is Eddie being forced to confront the crowd at Hawkins Community Pool on the hottest day of the summer, wearing nothing but a goddamn banana hammock.

Gareth couldn’t have picked out something understated and black, or even red. Of course not—that would be too easy for Eddie to play off. He’d just had to pick out some neon green thing that’s bound to burn the other pool-goers’ retinas as much as his pasty skin. He also couldn’t have warned Eddie that this was his punishment, so that he would have time to tame the jungle he’s got below the belt.

I’m gonna wrap my hands around his neck and—

“Eds? You ready?” Gareth’s voice from the next shower stall sounds positively giddy. For the love of Christ, he couldn’t even be a little bit sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbles, and he steps into view.

As soon as he sees him, Gareth’s eyes light up with enough mischief to power all of downtown. “Oh, it’s even better than I expected.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—and don’t take this the wrong way, man—I can see like, everything. Your whole cock and balls are just…out there.”

“And?” Eddie demands, rolling his eyes. He’s well aware of how visible his junk is in this ridiculous piece of nylon. Despite his best efforts to adjust to a less obscene position, the outline of his dick is impossible to hide.

“It’s funny?” Gareth says. His tone implies the duh. “God, you’re hot, too. If you weren’t hot, I would just feel mean making you wear that.”

“You are mean,” Eddie shoots back, refusing to acknowledge the compliment. He snatches his towel from Gareth’s grasp and mutters, “Now let’s get this over with.”

“Get it over with? I’m doing you a favor, dude.”

“A favor? That’s what this is?”

Gareth shrugs again. “Sure. I mean, there’s a lot of people out there. There’s bound to be somebody who picks up what you’re laying down.”

Eddie rolls his eyes again and leads him out of the locker room without another word. He tries to subtly position the towel in his hand to block himself from most people’s view, counting on Gareth being too chickenshit to call him out on it in front of strangers. Still, he gets a couple odd looks, and he does his best to tell himself the heat in his face is just from the sun beating down on him as he walks faster and faster.

By the time he reaches the grassy, blessedly empty corner of the pool area, he’s almost jogging. Almost, of course, because he’s not used to being so close to naked in public. If he actually did run, he worries his dick might bounce around enough to slip free of its tiny restraint, so the most he’s willing to do is power-walk over to the fence. There, he spreads out his towel and sits, thankful for a moment of peace as he curls his knees to his chest before Gareth can pointedly suggest a little sunbathing.

Sure enough, the kid raises an eyebrow as he spreads out his own towel and remarks, “You gonna sit there like a roly-poly all day? You’re never gonna get a tan like that.”

“You know I only burn,” Eddie scoffs, but he straightens out his knees a bit. His legs still hide his crotch from the view of passersby, but in this position he can lean back on his hands and shoot Gareth what has to be the most transparently false look of indifference known to man. “But I see your point. I guess I should show off, since I’m apparently so hot.”

Gareth laughs, seeing right through his attempt to tease. “Dude, there’s no point trying to make me self-conscious. I’m not the one wearing a bikini bottom.”

Eddie narrows his eyes in question.

“No, it’s not actually a bikini. I was exaggerating, asshole.”

He shrugs, adopting another aloof expression. It feels a tad more successful than the first. “Hm. That’s too bad. I still would’ve worn it.”

“Sure you would,” Gareth replies, disbelieving.

“I would!”

“Then prove it. Stretch out those legs and show off,” he dares.

“Okay, then. Fine!” Eddie slides his feet out in front of him until the backs of his thighs hit the towel. It puts him on display, in all his indecent glory. “Happy?”

“Hm. Not yet.”

“Gare, I’m sitting here with my bush out for all the world to see. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

“Just wait,” Gareth says.

“Jesus, that’s not cryptic at all,” Eddie mumbles.

“It really is a scorcher today, huh?” Without any other warning, Gareth rocks to his feet. “I’m gonna go for a dip. You wanna come with?”

Eddie glares at his shit-eating grin. “Uh, no. I think I’ll hold off on that.”

“Suit yourself,” Gareth says, but the subtext is something more like, Eventually it’s gonna get too hot for you to stay out of the water, you know.

Eddie thinks his friend might be severely underestimating the determination of a man trying to keep from accidentally flashing everybody and their mother. He watches Gareth prance off to wait in line for the diving board, then flops backward across his towel and squeezes his eyes shut against the blazing sun. Christ. I never should’ve taken that bet.

He could just…leave. He could use this moment of Gareth’s absence to go back to the locker room, put his clothes back on, and leave the kid and his smug mug stranded without a ride. Gareth knows all that, though. More importantly, he knows Eddie would never actually do it; that’s the only reason he left him alone in the first place. Plus, if Eddie did chicken out, he would never hear the end of it.

It’s something to fantasize about, though, to take his mind off the feeling of a stale breeze ruffling leg hair it wouldn’t usually reach. The thought works well enough as a distraction. It’s almost like he’s at home in his bed, where he’s not so conscious of being nearly nude.

The thing that pops his bubble is a sudden change in temperature. It reminds him that he’s been lying in the sun, and when he opens his eyes, there’s a shadow cast across his torso, moving like a person. Because it is a person, he realizes, and he looks up to see a fucking Adonis dropping into a lounge chair that wasn’t there a minute ago.

He blinks up at him. That’s not just any Adonis.

Before he can stop himself, Eddie blurts, “You’re blocking my sun, Harrington.”

Steve Harrington glances his way and says, “You can thank me later, Casper.” Which, ouch. But then he does a double-take, and Eddie sees his eyes flit from the swimsuit, up to his face, and back again, where they linger far longer than they should.

Not that Eddie blames him. It’s not every day you see the town freak sitting around in what amounts to a pair of fluorescent, low-rise briefs.

Still, it’s probably best to draw Harrington’s attention away from his bulge. It’s not like Eddie’s suit is gonna do him any favors once his body starts to fully process King Steve sitting next to him with his tits out and his own itty-bitty swim shorts hugging the curve of his thigh. So, by way of an explanation, he says, “Lost a bet.”

Steve’s gaze snaps up to Eddie’s face, so he puts on his best sly grin to disguise his nerves. There must be some kind of eye-magnet on his crotch, though—Of course there is, it’s called a fucking speedo—because that gaze starts to drift again, sliding back to it.

In a slight panic, Eddie adds, “Plus it’s hot out, you know?”

Steve meets his eye. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Yeah. Sure is,” he murmurs. Then he bites his lip, and this time the way his eyes rake down Eddie’s body feels a bit more deliberate.

Oh.

Does that mean what Eddie thinks it means? Is Harrington…checking him out?

One way to find out.

Eddie purses his lips, pushing them out a little to subtly emphasize their natural fullness. It’s a move he mastered as a kid, when he realized it could get him just about anything he wanted from his uncle. Once he got older, he realized it worked the same way with others, and in far less innocent situations than begging to stay up an extra half-hour. He arches his back a little, too, then he uses the most provocative tone he can muster to quip, “I can move somewhere else if you need to cool down a little.”

That gets Steve’s attention. He looks at Eddie’s face again as a flush spreads from his cheeks and all the way down his neck. He raises his eyebrows.

“Would you like me to move, big boy?” Eddie asks, fluttering his lashes.

Steve chews on his lip a little bit longer before he clears his throat and mumbles, “No. I, uh…I think I like you just where you are.”

“Mm. Good.” Eddie settles his head back on his towel, making sure his hair fans out around his head. He juts his chin toward the sky to put his neck on display. “I like the view from here.” He draws his gaze up the length of Steve’s form, knowing he’s gotten his point across when Steve clears his throat again. When that happens, Eddie pantomimes getting caught with a playful gasp.

With a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, Steve says, “You two come here often?”

Eddie furrows his brow.

In answer to his unspoken question, Steve points right at his dick.

A little disarmed by his cheek, Eddie barks a laugh. “Well, like I said, it’s hot out. But what about you, Your Majesty? Don’t you have a pool in your backyard?”

Steve scoffs. “Hardly matters when your best friend drags you to the public pool, anyway.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll have to thank him, then.”

“Her.”

Eddie arches an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re sensitive,” he teases.

“Very.” And by god, does Steve Harrington know what he’s doing. He pairs the single, growled word with a hand smoothed across his own chest. The movement is just understated enough to look innocent from a distance, but from where Eddie is lying a couple feet away, he doesn’t miss the way Steve’s fingertips dig into his golden skin and his palm rubs one of his nipples. His voice drops into a sultriness of its own. “Love the suit, by the way.”

“You know, I could wear it over to yours sometime,” Eddie replies. “Have a private little pool party. Or…”

When he trails off, Steve gives him a vaguely puzzled look.

Eddie lets him sweat for a second. He wants every bit of anticipation to sink all the way in before he finishes his thought. It’s not until Steve starts to actually look a bit distressed that he goes on, “Or not. I could also not wear it.” He wrinkles his nose playfully. “If you catch my drift.”

Steve’s look of worry smooths over, and the corner of his mouth tugs upward in a crooked smile. “Well, my folks did put in a fence last summer.” Eddie gets a whiff of sunblock and musky cologne as he leans in and whispers, “A tall one.”

Eddie’s smile widens. “Good to know.”

Later, when Eddie notices the top of Gareth’s head peeking over the edge of the pool with gloating eyes, Eddie will flip him the bird, which will prompt Steve to chuckle and ask, “What was that about?”

And Eddie will reply, “Nothing. He’s just a dick.” A dick who’s managed to live another day.

[underscore-jude]

i take back any and all narrative critiques i had of firebringer when i was a bougie 14 year old thinking i knew my shit. this is par for the course in terms of starkid's narrative cohesiveness and the chorn twist is the funniest fucking thing ive ever seen

[nightmare8-420]

tw uhhh???? sorta ish implied possible abuse??? i have no idea how to explain this. sorry. /vent / this is so long im basically reciting one of those core issues that reply again and again

this is so stupid shouldnt this stay in the noted app

isnt this basically the open notes app?

what the fuckk everrr idc

how am i supposed to even start this. christ.

april 17th. 2022. i think at least. i dont have any of the pictures anymore. new phone and stuff. it was in april at least. i hate april for more than this reason, big factor though.

i was laying on the couch, early morning, 9-10 am ish if i remember. there was something said about going up to my fathers mothers house because she was insistant, yada yada, i zoned out, then asked for the schedule. [Fathers mothers name]s house then the store? i asked something of the like i think.

and i guess that was the wrong thing to say. she lit into me about god knows what, i can barely remember honestly. dont really wanna remember tbh. i remember some of the things she said, they make me feel disgusting just thinking about it. i wont talk about those.

it was like instead of being a normal ass rider she decided to wait 7 months and then just start fucking screaming. when i say screaming, i mean literal fucking screaming. not shouting. not talking loud. screaming. to the point shes done it so much i dont know how we havent gotten a noise complaint. or domestic violence report or something.

obviously me being 12 and an idiot, i totally took this 100% well!

i dont know why exactly i have been, but, i am to say the least, a paranoid man. kinda.?? is it paranoia if it started out as unrealistic and unjustifed but then became realistic and justified? obviously my ass hasnt trusted her since i was 8. ignoring medical issues, cheating on her husband and making me lie for her. etc. so of course, assuming that shed hit me or something bc tbh that woulsnt be shocking, i went outside, crying like goddamn i was crying bro. (note; unimportant but a habit whenever i start getting yelled at, sorta just shut down and agree with whatever they say, usually making plans on how to look like im doing what they say without actually doing it.) that stupid fucking gray sweater i was wearing. far too itchy ti be considered comfortable. shaking. vision blurrier than ever before (use this line for fanfic future j stg stg)

of course she comes out there yelling too! i think. or made me come back inside. i think it was the latter?? again, tried to forget about this. kinda hard to though tbh.

more yelling ensues, as usual, my father ends up taking me to his mothers house, because we planned to go anyways.

we didnt talk the whole ride there. he asked me on the street "still kinda upset?", god it was hard to get even a "kinda" out (note, blurry memory, dk if thats correct, pretty sure it is tho)

we went in. and i as he and them were greeting each other, i had to go to the bathroom so i wouldnt (or at least not be seen) cry. (my father worked most of the time since before i was born and theyre over protective so going mostly anywhere was always with my mother) it sucked. her bathroom really, REALLY sucks okay.

anyways i come out because i cant hide in there forever. i go into the kitchen, she has a 'gift' for me, she said so. it was a little bird house. yk the ones that arent really useable and just meant to be painted? yeah those. i actually like it still, never finished working on it though.

AND 50 FUCKINF DOLLARS FUCK YOU TO MY MOTHER I GOT 50 BUCKS OUT OF THIS BITCH 🖕🖕🖕

still sucked. (also as a note, i did smoke then, but i had left it purposefully underneath my dresser, incase she was like "HE SMOKES DID YOU KNOW THAT HUH? WHY SHOULDNT I BREATE THIS CHILD" i could be like "NUH UH I LEFT IT THERE FOR ANREASON" or some shit irdk my reasoning was so weird but id still do it today.

so after that, zoning out because god i dont remember the rest, we went to his at the time place of work (truck driver, chemicals, going to the yard to get stuff from truck to swtich it to another or just to clean or look at it is so normal i cant express it)

the yard is essentially an ass ton of those dusty gray small rocks. i stayed in the honda, it was a gray day, literally. looked like it was gonna rain.

i stayed in because everything was so much and if i got out, i probably wouldve collapsed just from being too into my own thoughts.

i guess at some point when she was yelling at me it turned into about school work and how i get nothing done.

theres actually still an app for it, but i dont think you can reset passwords, if you could, then idk how. the password was extremely long and stupid, like random numbers and letters literally. i always logged on on my laptop, by muscle memory, but the ohone keyboard is different so i texted my mother to ask if she knew, yk, to 'show initiative' and of course she was still being an ass. because why not right! so that made me feel more like shit and lowkey kinda helpless. she had been yelling sorta at my father too, so its not like i could just go get run over at this point, would make it worse on him (not actively what i was thinking but i think subconsciously)

finally he finished doing whatever he was doing, dont remember because too focused on smth else (care to guess what?)

he got back in the car and asked if there was anywhere else i wanted to go. i said something along the lines of "anywhere but home".

he said "i know, but we gotta go home at sometime.." i cant express his tone but ill try.

it was in that solem, "im about to start the process of before you cry and i can feel it but im trying not to." or "i know this isnt right, but everhthing else is wrong too and i just. cant. save. you."

i feel that its very worth mentioning that since he was 3 he was severely abused by his father and mother. as he puts it "every night was a fucking argument" i dont remember the exact words but hes stated multiple times because of said fights he used to go to bed without eating. (and his mother is SO fucking weird, i mean it in the shes literally told my mother and i quote "when his chest hair was coming in it was so sexy". im not kidding. this is a real quote from this woman. hes adopted. this makes it absolutely no better but im pretty sure thatd be her justification for that comment.)

[his first father, gene who is now thankfully rotting in hell <3, was an absolute piece of shit. a whore. an abuse. everything.

the next one, Jack because no motherfucker thats MY initial. was an alcoholic, a prick when he was drunk, but not too bad when sober, my father has told me how jacks parents used to. essentially chain him (his shirt or neck?? dont remember) to a clothes line 'so he wouldnt run off'. or smth very close. foggy memory. boils down to 'very sensitive to child abuse and doesnt take that shit' a W indeed.

third, MASON MENTIONED actually was good. he doesnt talk abt mason much (idk time period, dont think he was around too long, died of cancer i think? or tb. i think. also gene was only in his childhood. a bit of gene and then after the nexts where in adult hood)

then the last/most recent, Jimmy. hes like. fine ig????? longer story for later.]

so basically having a slight panic attack because oh god what the fuck am i going to do. i asked a question.

simple. plain. basic english.

"do you ever think she'd hit me?"

you know when youre crying and your throat closes up and is scratchy? just like that. from someone thats supposed to love and protect you.

and. the worst part? this man has been married to her for somewhere around 20? years now. and the only thing he could say?

"i dont know."

i dont know. i dont know. i dont fucking know.

i was in the backseat, so i couldnt see, but i could hear him cry. gene was in the army, so of course he was the type for everything to have to be perfect. also probably why my father is assumed to have been in the military. everything has ways had to be perfect.

and you know what isnt perfect, military or just generally being seen as wrong or effeminate?

a man crying. a grown man crying.

over his wife. not because she died. not because shes sick. but because hes unsure that his own child, his son, will be safe with her. because he has to work. no matter what.

because courts never give custody to the father here. because he doesnt have enough PTO or sick days (not that thats a thing) to see it blow over.

because in the next 24 hours he will have to come to work.

he watched his wife almost kill their newborn son because she was stressed, he stopped it. because he could. because he was there. it was understandable. i dont remember what its called but after pregnancy/birth depression is real.

but thats 12 years later. with a woman that should know so much better.

we went home. it was the first time i was glad he drove slowly.

that tension in the air. it would take more than a fingernail to cut through.

we 'discussed' some things. less yelling. more just stern talkings of 'what needs to happen', i still dont do those things.

at some point we went on a walk, there was a backhanded comment about how we didnt go to the store for some reason.

the next day her and i went to the park. the major was there, she knows him, she made me take pictures with him. and the whole time the only thing i could think of was "does he even know what happened yesterday?"

[anewbrainjughead]

my brother bumped into one of my primary school friends outside a pub tonight and he was going on about how sound and friendly he was and how he said a lot of really genuine and nice things about me, and im surprised how happy its made me to hear that i'm remembered fondly.

[torglives]

to say my piece: firstly, fuck iskall.

secondly, its very easy to tell by the outpouring of hate comments on many of the hermits' recent videos (after his response) that he reached a target of young, impressionable fans. not only that, but also a darker side of the hermitcraft fandom that i like to ignore.

as much as i love hermitcraft, its "golden" status that its gotten from remaining "unpolitical" and "drama-free" has perpetuated a very ugly-hearted group of fans who cant find solace in the more openly left-wing smp communities. so they turn to hermitcraft, where they can hide a little more easily. and this has been a group of people slowly cultivating numbers for years now, and there's enough of them that docm77's gay beacon, or the number of pride mcc participants (and queer hermits) can't ward off.

these people have always been the ones brushing concerns in the community under the rug, the "this isn't the place for politics," and "i watch hermitcraft to get AWAY from that stuff." types. they are never going to believe the women that were harassed over the male creator they've latched onto as someone who's "for them" and "un-cancelable." these people have been waiting for this opportunity. and you'll see them say "hermitcraft is over," and "they can't come back from this," but none of that is true. they're the only ones who believe that.

and as awful as all of this is, the hate and the VERY thinly veiled misogyny-- there is a bright-side in weeding those people out. "i don't think i'll be able to watch hermitcraft after this" good fucking riddance.

iskall knew what he was doing by bringing his shit response video to his youtube audience. instead of the reddit, instead of twitter, but to a space that HE moderates. the space with the highest concentration of people who he know will defend him.

my only hope is that the hermits double down on this, and that they have the backbone to make it clear that these people are not welcome in the community. and neither is iskall. and that the larger chunk of us continue to support the victims, and uplift what they have to say. i can't imagine how this must feel for them.

[ladymonstrous]

watching a video about this extreme horror author who wrote a book in response to a bad review and at the very start the youtuber, who is exaplining the whole thing, said "he wrote a book about amber head and he is a big johnny depp fan-" so thats all i need to know.

[hyunsuloves]

Hii!! Would you be willing to write some nam-gyu/player 124 x reader hcs? I just love roh jaewon sm <3

boyfriend nam-gyu in the games.

warnings … this is kinda buns… that’s it

lovely notes … i lowkey hate how his character acts but i love roh jae-won too ᥫ᭡!!

꩜ [ 630 words ]

boyfriend nam-gyu who didn’t tell you he was entering the games. he intended to disappear for a week, and then show up with some bullshit excuse and a large sum of money.

boyfriend nam-gyu who was pissed off beyond belief when he came to find out that you were in the games because of his debt. the salesman recruited you to ease your boyfriend's debt and unfortunately, you couldn’t resist.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wouldn’t allow you to leave his side. it irks thanos a little bit, but he doesn’t really say anything because you and nam-gyu are together.

boyfriend nam-gyu gyu who only votes to leave because of your presence. no amount of money could aid him if you were to die here, and all because of him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who gets into countless arguments over you. he’ll argue over the dumbest shit, like someone bumping into you and not apologizing. he feels the constant need to defend you but he tends to take it a bit far.

boyfriend nam-gyu who constantly has a hand on you. it may be on your waist, his fingers interlocked with yours, or his hands in your hair.

boyfriend nam-gyu who insists on a “good luck kiss” before each game. you both are well aware that he just wants an excuse to kiss you, but who’s going to complain about it?

boyfriend nam-gyu who would lose his mind if thanos were to say something about you. if something he said was the slightest bit of suggestive, he might actually fight him about it.

boyfriend nam-gyu who loathes seeing any other player talking to you. even if it’s simplistic small talk to pass the time, he feels a surge of jealousy seeing other people interact so casually with you.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has you alongside him during every game. you don’t really have a choice because he has a vice grip on your hand. you couldn’t go anywhere even if you wanted to.

boyfriend nam-gyu who encourages you to stay away from thanos. he knows he’s a terrible person and despite hanging out with him, he doesn’t want you anywhere near a person as heinous as him. he definitely doesn’t want you taking whatever drugs thanos has on him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who always offers you a portion of his food. he’s a little greedy and secretly wants to keep it all to himself, but he puts your well-being before him, so he always offers you a piece.

boyfriend nam-gyu who sleeps in the bed directly next to yours. the beds are so tiny and can barely fit two people, so he finds peace in sleeping in the bed adjacent to yours.

boyfriend nam-gyu who only allows himself to be vulnerable with you during lights out. he doesn’t want any other players to view your affection as a weakness and use it against either one of you. so, the only time you see the true doting state of your boyfriend is when no one else can see.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wants nothing more than to be affectionate around you, but he knows he can’t for the sake of both of your safety. if he wants the two of you to make it out alive, he’s well aware that he has to put on an uncaring facade in the face of everyone else.

boyfriend nam-gyu who would kill someone for you. it’s a terrifying concept, yet not an unusual one amid the deaths all around. it’s slightly unnerving how quick he’d end other players life in your defense.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has plans to take you out somewhere after you get out of here. he’s the reason you’re here in the first place, and the least he can do is try to make it up to you.

[blvdprn]

CW: dark, necrophilia technically (IF I MADE IT INTO A FIC ISTG IT WLD HV A GOOD REASON PLZ), dub-con (i swear), gore, unstable reader, cannibalism, reeeaaaally vague sex

pre-zombie!bf who’d always set up a sleeping place and make it as cozy as possible just for you. it didn’t matter if it was in the middle of the forest, a store, a rundown mall—he’d always try to make you feel comfortable just like before the apocalypse.

pre-zombie!bf who scolded you every time you put yourself in harms way for him. it didn’t matter if he could defend himself or not, you were always doing it because you loved him.

pre-zombie!bf who did the same thing you did even if it was subconsciously. he was such a hypocrite and he didn’t even notice, but you did.

pre-zombie!bf who gave you a weird look when you asked him if he’d still love you if you were a zombie. then gave you another weird look when you asked him if he’d let you love him even if he were a man eating cannibalistic rotting walking corpse. he said yes (at some point…) to both.

pre-zombie!bf who sometimes went on secret runs while you were asleep in a safe spot. he wanted to scavenge for food and other necessities without you being in danger.

pre-zombie!bf who got stupidly bit on one of those secret runs like an idiot. he cried a little, he wasn’t going to lie. so he decided he wanted to at least cherish your last moments together.

pre-zombie!bf who started acting weird. getting a little more touchy, a little more loving. he began to be a little more emotional and open. you weren’t sure why, but you had a horrible gut feeling.

pre-zombie!bf who wanted one last night with you. but when he asked, you said no. it wasn’t because you didn’t want to, it was just… maybe that horrible feeling you had was a warning that something was going to happen if you were distracted.

pre-zombie!bf who got really fucking sad. but it was fine, he was still going to spend his last minute with you until he couldn’t.

pre-zombie!bf who snuck out and ran away as far as he could to not hurt you. he tied himself to a tree instead of killing himself—not wanting to use a weapon because he wanted to leave them all to you.

pre-zombie!bf who didn’t realise you noticed him leaving. you thought he wanted to take a huge shit or something, which is why you didn’t go after him until your head slammed onto the floor, realising that you fell asleep.

zombie!bf who you found biting and growling into the air as you approached. when you finally understood why he was acting strange, you immediately regretted not having one last intimate moment just like he wanted.

zombie!bf who no matter what you did, wouldn’t snap out of it. not like you had much hope anyway, but it never hurt to try, right?

zombie!bf who you didn’t have the guts to kill or leave alone tied like an animal. he launched at you as soon as you untied him, but you were able to hold him back.

zombie!bf who you couldn’t let go of. so now after a week, he had his arms chained behind his back with a pipe tied against his mouth. you used him to lure other zombies away—even in death he kept saving you.

zombie!bf who even with the complexion of a corpse and see through veins, still looked beautiful in your eyes.

zombie!bf who you remembered was almost begging for sex the last time you talked to him. and as you saw him slowly start to dehydrate from hunger, you decided to give him the last piece of love that he wanted so bad.

zombie!bf who aside from the unnatural growls, sounded as sweet as when he was human.

zombie!bf who’s metal pipe lay beside him as you put one of your fingers in his mouth, letting him bite it off for him to feed and for you to finally join him in shared demise.

zombie!bf who chewed on the given bone and flesh as he drank the blood that accompanied it.

zombie!bf who heard your pained groans and sad sniffs because you weren’t strong enough to go through more pain no matter how much you loved him. and as you fainted, his eyes began to get clearer and clearer.

zombie!bf who’s brain wasn’t so dead anymore.

[himbosandhardwear]

Two Truths I 1.3k I NSFW-ish

“How'd you get it to stay?”

“Soldered it into one solid piece,” he brags, cigarette caught in the corner of his smile.

“You're insane. I can't believe that was you the whole time.”

“It was Ronnie's idea, I just made it happen.” He taps his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray balanced on his knee. His legs are spread open, so Steve can reach the ashtray if he needs to. “I thought he looked very metropolitan with an earring. Chic even.”

Yeah, the gold hoop earring in the mascot tiger costume was ultra modern. Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. He doesn't give a shit about defending a stupid High School mascot over a harmless prank from five years ago. Eddie's antics are a thousand times more entertaining than any of his stupid basketball stories.

“You know what game you'd kill at?”

“Monopoly? Dog! I called it, you can't have it, I'm always the dog!” He nearly dumps the ashtray in his excitement.

“No, shut up. I'm the car anyway, duh. I was gonna say, Two Truths and a Lie. That's your game.”

“Hmm, never played.” He rolls his head around the back of the couch, his haphazard bun goes even looser. “Is it a drinking game?”

“Doesn't have to be. Just a guessing game really. You just say two things that are true and one lie and the other person has to guess which one is the lie. But it can't be like, ‘I have brown eyes, I have brown hair, in 1983 I helped defeat a monster from an alternate dimension.’”

“You have hazel eyes.”

Steve blinks for a second. “Yeah. But anyway, it has to be less obvious, is what I'm saying.”

“Got it. So, like, okay… My dad is in the penn for Grand Larceny, Wayne's only confirmed kill in ‘Nam was a poor defenceless monkey, and my favorite subject in school was Home-Ec.”

“Shit. I don't know if I want the monkey thing to be true or not.”

Eddie's dimples make an appearance. “My favorite was Theater. Home-Ec was a close second though. I made a pillow and used it to sleep through Algebra.”

Steve cracks a laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.” Okay, his turn. His life suddenly seems boring in comparison, even with all the shit he's been through. He used to be good at this game but he's kinda set himself up for failure here against Eddie.

“Dying of boredom…”

“Shut up! Okay, how about this… My paternal grandparents were from Scotland, I have a B.B. permanently lodged in my ankle, and my first three-way was with Tommy and Carol.”

Eddie chokes on air, making Steve laugh in delight.

Once he's got his breath, he looks at Steve in suspicion. “I'm gonna assume you didn't actually get close to Hagan's freckled weiner.”

Steve's grin feels mean, like whenever Tommy said something particularly scathing to some anonymous Freshman. “B.B. is stuck in my thigh actually.” He pulls his shorts up enough to show him the white scar.

God, the look on Eddie's face - perfectly, comically shocked, mouth open, eyes white around the iris - makes him feel so good, to have something like that up his sleeve, something to shock the wildest guy Steve knows.

“You're gonna catch flies like that,” he says, smug. “It's your turn.”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, teeth clacking audibly. “Fine. Let's see,” he taps his finger against his chin, “raising the stakes…” He slips Steve a look, conveying his playful scheming. “I've had sex at school, I've had sex at the Hideout, I've had sex at your house.”

His immediate instinct is to call bullshit at Eddie fucking here, because when exactly would he have accomplished it, but then he remembers who provided the favors at most of his parties and he hesitates. Eddie watches Steve go through this realization, watches with a smugness that he wants to wipe off.

“It had better have been on my parents bed,” he concedes.

“Laundry room actually.”

“I hate you.” He crosses his arms and pouts, nearly asks who with but he's not sure he wants to know. “So which one was the lie?”

“School. Obviously. My dick couldn't get hard there even if I wanted it to.”

Memories of sitting in class surface, trying desperately to hide his boner, but he's not gonna admit it. Even though he's certain Eddie had the same problem at least once. It’s basically a rite of passage for dudes.

“My turn, you absolute freak.” Now what does he admit to to top getting it on with some mystery person on his parents dryer? “Hmm… I put actual notches on my bedpost, I've got a pair of girl's panties stashed in my underwear drawer, I used to jerk off with Tommy when we were younger.”

“Okay, now I know you're fucking with me,” Eddie exclaims, arms flailing.

“Which one, Munson? Take your pick.”

Eddie continues to stare, which is a bit nerve wracking but Steve maintains his composure. He's 99% sure Eddie is gay, and therefore won't judge him on this, but there's always that small chance Steve is wrong and this whole thing goes sideways. Three-way with Tommy? Could be a drunken mistake. Teenage jerk off sessions? It happens, no big deal. But both? At one point in Steve's life he'd been able to write off both as normal but Robin had put the writing back on the wall, so to speak.

“That's why he said he didn't want your sloppy seconds,” Eddie mumbles.

Steve blanches. “Who?”

“B- Nobody.”

No fucking way. No. Fucking. Way.

“Eddie. Did you fuck Billy Hargrove in my laundry room?” His voice is eerily calm.

“No.”

Steve waits a beat. “Did Billy Hargrove fuck you in my laundry room?”

“.......no.”

“Your turn,” he growls.

“Wait, which one was the lie?”

He crosses his arms, still pissed off beyond belief. “I don't put notches on my bedpost, that's tacky.”

“On the belt then?” He tries to snark but it falls flat. Steve just stares until he looks away. “Fine. Let me think.”

If he admits to fucking Billy, Steve doesn't know what he's gonna do. The very idea of it makes him want to tear his hair out.

“I over-charged you on weed for years, Gareth is mean to you because he has a crush, I'm sorry I gave Hargrove head in your laundry room.”

Steve gets up and leaves the room. Eddie doesn't call him back. He stomps all the way to the kitchen, yanks the fridge open, grabs another beer, and chugs the entire thing standing there with the door open. When he gets back, Eddie is standing in the middle of the room, awkwardly shuffling like he wants to leave.

“Sit,” Steve barks, “we're not done here.”

Eddie complies but with a stiffness that reads like he may bolt at a moment's notice.

“I fucking know you over-charged me for the weed so I have to assume Gareth does not, in fact, have a crush on me.”

Eddie nods, sheepish. “Hates you for the usual reasons.”

“Right.” The important takeaway here shouldn't be that Eddie had sex with Steve's arch nemesis, it's that he's admitting to being queer. Good. He stares at the side of Eddie's head. “I was straight, I am bisexual, I have bad hair days.”

He watches as Eddie's entire body rotates around to stare directly into Steve's soul. His tongue makes an appearance, wetting his lips.

“I am gay, I am very gay, I am the most gay anyone has ever been.”

That's comical. “No, the most gay anyone has ever been was Robin when she left the room during that scene in The Hunger.”

Eddie matches Steve's smirk. “Correct.”

“I want to kiss you, I want to make you forget Billy Hargrove’s name…..I have brown eyes.”

Eddie's grin rivals that of his grand theft auto exuberance. “Your eyes are hazel.”

“Correct.”

“I am going to kiss you, Billy Who, and…oh, who gives a shit.” He tackles Steve into the arm of the couch.

They don't make it to the laundry room but there's always tomorrow.

[ambitiouspotions]

BABY DAZE | MICHAEL BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — regretting the shotgun wedding, caring for a five-month-old baby, and wondering why your husband likes painkillers more than you

word count — 4.4k

warnings — addiction, angst, talk of recovery and na meetings, arguing, slightly religious connotations, drug/alcohol usage, stress from motherhood, mom guilt, mature language

author's note — i told myself not to write mikey again so soon, but look at me…also i channel some of my family (sicilian american) when i write these

“fak, come on man, you can't put together a damn crib? you gotta get me out of this hole i’m in,” mikey looked at the stray pieces of wood on the floor, screws in a pile, and neil fak’s unorganized toolbox. the instruction booklet was opened and slightly crumpled from the number of times fak had referenced the pages.

fak’s face was slightly distorted as he looked at the pieces and then back to the instructions. “man, look, i don't know what you want me to do this shit is all kinds of fucked.” the handyman simply could not understand why baby furniture had so many pieces and so many varying sizes. if it was so safe, why was the company recommending it all to be put together with a single allen wrench? there was no way he was only using that stupid allen wrench, not for baby berzatto anyway.

mikey was running his hands over his face and to his bangs that were falling, gripping the ends of his hair tightly. he had promised you the nursery furniture would be completed by the time you arrived home after work. he already had the majority of the room completed without you knowing, moving and organizing the junk he had piled into the spare bedroom as if it were a storage unit. the baby shower had only caused the room to be more cluttered, and on top of the clients, you were trying to fit in for their appointments before going on maternity leave, which meant you never had enough time in the day to organize it yourself. the stress of disorganization and ill preparation led to you biting your nails and peeling the skin away from your fingertips routinely. mikey noticed this and now had the perfect excuse to get the nursery finished and elevate your mood at the same time.

“what’d you do this time anyway?” fak questioned as he propped one board of the crib against the wall and rummaged through his varying sizes of drill bits.

mikey didn't want to admit to fak that he was unwilling to defend you in front of his mother, donna, at a family lunch when she had mumbled something along the lines of ‘your child is still a bastard.’ it was unneeded, unkind, and simply unprovoked after you had put on your nicest attitude to agree to have lunch with her and mikey in the first place.

you both already made the mistake. there was no coming back from that fuck up, so why keep dwelling on it? that was the understanding by the rest of the family anyway, but donna wouldn't ever drop it.

“fak, you fucker, i’d love to know,” mikey held the opposite end as fak skimmed the directions again to install the railing. he didn't need to be told he was in the wrong again, best to just skip that shitty conversation altogether.

“they say the first seven months of marriage are always the hardest,” fak tried to console mikey as he began using the drill. mikey was doubtful the moment fak tried to say anything about marriage, especially coming from a single man. mikey, himself, wouldn't have any pleasant advice to give anyone either because his marriage, more like hasty elopement, was only six months old with a wife who was eight months pregnant. any idiot could do the math on why this marriage was legitimized.

“seven years, the first seven years,” mikey corrected him with a groan of annoyance. “i appreciate you doing this though; my back’s been killin’ me.”

another factor of stress added to the plate, almost two years ago, would mark the anniversary of mikey slipping in the flooding bathroom of the beef so violently that he now had permanent hardware in his spine. along with the surgery came the pain and the way to manage pain—opioids. that was a sick joke. one second, he’s slipping on the tile and slamming into the porcelain commode, and the next, he was relying on drugs to get him through a stressful day.

he didn't know if his back still hurt or if he was accustomed to saying it to convince himself that it was enough of a reason to get high. that was the sad part, mikey was popping pills and you barely had any time to notice because you were always asleep before he took a little something to take the edge off. he didn't need you to have another thing to worry about, so sneakily would replace the pills he took and leave the prescription bottle in the same place. you had no reason to question him because the allergy medication you received from the walk-in clinic almost a year ago sat on that same shelf, and you never bothered to clean it out. he was covering his tracks well; why would you ever notice anyway? especially if he was so good at hiding it?

“it's no big deal, happy wife, happy life,” fak rhymed, adjusting his leveling tool against the boards before drilling them together.

the moment the tattooed handyman was able to support the crib by himself, mikey began working on the other projects to make the room more cozy.

fak made himself scarce once it was close to your arrival time. he was going to let mikey take all of your good graces on the updated nursery.

“look at that panica,” mikey greeted, affectionately rubbing your oversized belly the moment you walked through the door. his fingers slipped under your bag and dragged it off your shoulder, setting it on the counter beside him.

you eyed him skeptically wondering where his gentleness was stemming from. he had given you dull responses, impersonal kisses, and compliments, just enough to keep you quiet before you shut the door to leave. his pre-sleep painkiller always caused a morning annoyance when he awoke, but you always chalked his bad attitude up to stress rather than thinking he was abusing any type of drug. it was mikey; he had a lot on the line, stress was his middle name, annoyance ran through his veins. he was a berzatto; of course, he had to have some form of mental illness genetically passed down to him.

“what? i can't love on my two babies?” he asked, pulling you closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“what did you do?” you asked, holding each side of his face, trying to find an inkling of his true intentions. it was teasing in a way, but knew he must've had a plan up his sleeve.

“i'm so glad you asked; close those pretty eyes for me,” he chuckled. the singular lift of the corner of his mouth was always enough to make you melt.

mikey led you blindly to the spare bedroom that had been transformed into a nursery, too bad your crumby landlord wouldn't allow the wall color to be changed or mikey would've had that swatch of fern canopy behr from the local home depot on all four walls.

“alright,” he said, clasping his hands together. when you opened your eyes, you couldn't withhold the emotions that had been pent up for so long. you were staring at the crib like it was a winning lottery ticket. the sheets were made, the embroidered baby blanket natalie and pete had gifted you was draped over the edge, the bear stuffed animals were in the corner of the crib as if they were having their own meeting, and the mattress was at the perfect height for a newborn.

the changing table was assembled, and even with one of the drawers being slightly crooked, it was perfect. it was everything you wanted for your baby. it was safe, cozy, organized, and most importantly, it was something you wanted.

mikey had gone beyond your expectations. he had promised the furniture would be put together, but he gave you more than that. he gave you hope. he gave you a reason to relax. he gave you solace in knowing that although you had an unplanned pregnancy, wedding ceremony at the courthouse, and chaotic reception at the beef you could lean on him for support.

“hey, don't cry,” mikey began rubbing your lower back as you reached over the crib to caress one of the teddy bears.

“i’m sorry…this is just really beautiful,” you sniffled, taking the bear into your arms and hugging it tightly.

“would it make you feel better if i said i got you those apple pie egg rolls?” he smirked when you turned around. your gaze had softened more, more tears falling down your eyes with the most genuine type of comfort.

“you got me egg rolls?” you couldn't help but question him in the sweetest disbelief. the tone in your voice was cracking as you leaned into his chest. mikey berzatto was out of the hole he placed himself in just a few days prior.

you were in survival mode and so was mikey. it was nearing the end of your eighth week out of ten from maternity leave at the salon and mikey had barely any time off from his responsibilities at the restaurant. he was trying to split his time as much as possible, but unfortunately, an understaffed restaurant meant he had to be gone more than he liked.

everyone said once the baby arrived, your life would never slow down, and they were right. gabriel michael berzatto was a healthy, gentle, and happy baby, the one people didn't mind stopping to look at in the stroller as you walked past. he was a miniature mikey if anything with his dark hair, crooked smile, and wide nose.

“is your back hurting that bad?” the question hit his ear like a ton of bricks. “i don't think you can drink on those,” you added, picking up the paper plates from dinner.

“what?” mikey asked, pushing his beer on the coffee table that had already suffered enough of mikey's abuse from not using a coaster.

“your back,” you repeated, looking at him from the kitchen. “i didn't even know you took those things still. i thought they were expired,” that's when mikey realized what he had done. he left the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. a mistake he never thought he would make had been done. by the time you went to sleep, he was in a comfortable state of high, and you were none the wiser. then halfway through prep at the beef, he’d take another little pill, and if he was having a particularly shitty day, then again when he went for a smoke break. he seemed to have a lot of shitty days at the beef because everything was falling apart and everything always seems to go wrong. and who knows maybe the days weren’t that bad, but sometimes it just seemed like too long to wait until you were about to go to bed.

“yeah, hurtin’ pretty bad,” he lied, sitting uncomfortably in his recliner now. “opened this thing without thinkin’,” he was looking at the amber-colored glass of the freshly opened beer.

“didn’t even know you needed them anymore,” you confessed, folding the throw blanket that had been discarded on the floor when you rose from the sofa after nursing gabriel to sleep.

“sometimes, you know that permanent hardware gets pretty damn stiff when the weather changes,” he explained, wiping his hands on his boxers.

“maybe you need to go back to the orthopedist,” you suggested casually, though you were skeptical of his body language. he was tense and unrelaxed, more than he was before you voiced your concern about his well-being.

“you’re right, just need’a find the time,” he agreed, scratching his grown-out beard that seemed to become more unkempt as the days quickly turned into weeks. it was one of the many tasks that got slid to the back burner because the priorities were set on becoming accustomed to demanding needs from the newest member of the family.

“got that big bottle of arthritis tylenol from the costco if you want to take that instead,” you offered, feeling uneasy about the fact that mikey was taking painkillers, painkillers you knew were two years old, though in actuality they were bought from a regular customer at the beginning of the week when mikey went to the restaurant to “check on the gas line.”

“yeah, thanks, baby,” he nodded, clearing his throat. he could tell you weren't convinced, but at the same time, neither of you had the energy to overthink or argue.

gabriel started to cry from the other room, mikey was the first one to move. he was quick with his attentiveness to his knowing he had an easy way to escape the conversation.

“i got this one,” he mumbled, rubbing his face as he slipped past you to enter the nursery. that was the end of that for a while, though it plagued your mind frequently. you started counting the pills in the bottle and it never seemed to lessen. it hadn't become misplaced again after asking him about it. you couldn't prove that he was using unless you were going solely based on your gut instinct.

you were as guilty as mikey. mikey was blatantly lying to you and you were enabling him because you were choosing not to confront him about it. you didn't want to admit to yourself that your husband was abusing painkillers because if you did that meant that your life would already be more stressful than it already was.

it was all making sense now. irritably, mood swings, aversion, questionable decisions, not because he had gotten you knocked up, not because he had to marry you, not because the bills were stacking up, not because he said his family was bothering him, but because he was popping pills.

it was hard some days because you were still figuring out the new aspects of parenting, but a natural and oddly comforting instinct took over you. although you and mikey were able to take care of gabriel and still manage your busy schedules you had an overwhelming amount of dread and guilt hanging over your head. were you doing anything right?

you hadn't known how much weight you were pulling until tonight. five months of night feedings, pumping, juggling schedules, daycare pickups, pediatrician checkups, washing bottles, pump parts, and an excessive amount of laundry which was clean, but piled skillfully on the living room sofa, but you did it because you convinced yourself that mikey was simply too busy to take on all the tasks you were tackling. you believed you had to be the sole provider for gabriel because mikey was the business owner. he was the one that had his valuable time placed on his restaurant, so you refused to mention that you might have needed help.

it was making you have doubts about your marriage. the marriage you consented to because you thought it would make both of your lives more stable and make you more reassured that mikey was going to stick around for you and the baby. the marriage that seemed to put your parents at ease knowing they could pray for the sins of lust and greed that caused an unplanned child. the marriage that at first seemed right, but now felt like a one-sided partnership because you were being stubborn and mikey was being ignorant.

everything seemed to be going wrong tonight (gabriel was fussy the moment you tried to put him down, you wasted eight ounces of fresh breast milk because you didn't seal the bag all the way when putting it in the freezer, and you were on your third shirt change of the night) and mikey was sitting in his recliner drinking a beer. the condensation was beading off the glass bottle and dripping onto his worn spiraled notebook where he kept his business dealings for the beef contained. you were struggling and he was drinking a damn beer.

“mikey,” you finally made him look up, smudges of ink from his pen were on the underside of his hand. “take the baby please,” you said, handing off the teary-eyed baby to your husband who couldn't seem less interested. you were covered in spit-up, from your shirt to your hair because gabriel accidentally grabbed a good chunk of it when he moved his dirty hand. mikey didn't seem present though he was sitting in front of you, loosely cradling his son.

“are you high?” you didn't know why you sounded surprised when you asked that question. you had been avoiding ever talking about that night three months prior. you practically snatched gabriel out of his arms which only made mikey defensive in trying to take him back. “oh my fucking god,” you muttered taking a step back from him.

“come on, i got ‘em,” mikey flicked the condensation that was still present on his hand from the beer, he rose from his resting place on the recliner. he was trying to avoid your line of questioning.

“no, what the hell is wrong with you?” you were placing entirely too much blame on mikey because you were overwhelmed and overworked, well, had been overwhelmed and overworked for months. your anxiety and frustration were spilling over the overfilled glass it had been stuffed into.

“hey, hey,” he warned, noticing your voice had raised sharply when he went to reach for gabriel. “chill out, mammina.” wrong choice of words.

“chill out? you want me to chill out? you're the one sitting on your ass getting high when i've been running around all evening with my head cut off.” you were trying to keep your tone light after your increase in volume had spooked gabriel.

“i didn't mean it like that, dammit, hand me gabe,” he sighed, though when he went to reach for the baby again you shielded gabriel from being taken out of your arms.

“you're bein' ridiculous,” mikey scoffed, following behind you. his inebriated state was affecting his ability to understand why he wouldn’t or maybe shouldn’t be holding his infant.

“and you're high,” you retorted, walking to the bathroom. “can’t even change my shirt because—” you unskillfully managed to open the cap and dump the oxycontin onto the counter. gabriel in your arms none the wiser to the situation. you counted them four times before even looking at him. you had to be sure that you weren’t going mad because the same amount was in the pill bottle as you had counted many times before.

“mammina—”

“where are you getting them?” you interjected, tossing the empty bottle at his chest.

“mammina, give me the baby and go change your shirt,” he insisted, as if you were so easily going to give up the little boy in your arms.

“michael, i am not fucking stupid and you know that. so where the fuck are you getting them?”

“why's it matter where i'm gettin’ ‘em from?”

he had a point; you didn't quite know why it mattered. you knew he'd find a way to continue taking them like he was already doing.

there was a long moment of silence, yet it was saying more than words could. pain, hurt, frustration, uncertainty, and fear were seasoning the bottom of the cast iron pot, and a thick helping of despair was poured over the top. the back of the metal spoon that was used to stir the clusterfuck let everything mingle, and then it had to bake in the oven at 425° until that shit was burnt and stinking up the entire apartment. oh, and then you had to eat that garbage. it was inedible, but you had to choke it down because that was what was happening. you helped enable that mess, and now you, as well as mikey, had to take responsibility for it.

“how long…how fuckin’ long have you been takin’ them?” your nose was buried in the crook of gabriel's neck. your voice was barely above a whisper.

“i dunno,” he wet his upper lip with his tongue, dragging his hand over his face. he couldn't admit that to you right now. that would break you. it would break you knowing you were oblivious for years. he could tell it was already eating you alive that you didn’t confront him properly just a few months ago. you had a general time frame when you thought he started abusing painkillers, but mikey was the only man that knew when his issue truly began.

“you gotta know…” you pleaded softly. your tears were finally falling. you didn't know how they were contained before. gabriel's tiny hand was pulling at the top of your shirt to whine for his nightly feeding. you looked so vulnerable leaning against the bathroom counter, pulling down one side of your shirt and unclasping your nursing bra, allowing your son to nurse. that was life now, having someone that meant more to you than anything else because even if your husband was abusing opioids you had a son that was helpless without you. the world could be ending, but your responsibility would never be focused on anything else except your child. what were you supposed to do in this situation? keep gabriel safe before things get too out of control. that was the answer.

you didn't resent mikey or hate him. he was helpless much like gabriel. though he had unintentionally gotten himself addicted to opioids because of the exploding toilet from the beef, it wasn't his fault. he was caught in a vicious cycle that needed professional help; help you couldn't provide for him.

you couldn't do it on your own either, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. you couldn't leave him because he was the person that you could lean on when you needed him. he was the man that forced marcus to learn how to make apple pie egg rolls so he wouldn't have to keep buying them from the bakery across from the beef. he was the man that sat behind you as you labored because he knew you felt better when he had his chin on your shoulder; he talked you through the entire thing and you couldn't be upset about it because every word he said comforted you and encouraged you. you could let him lean on you when he needed you most as long as it met that gabriel was safe.

“listen to me,” your voice cracked. “i don't know what to do, but i'm going to figure it out.” you managed to loosen one of your arms from gabriel. you wiped under your eyes. a painful and staggered exhale left your lungs. “ i won't be able to do this forever if you don't try to get sober, and it's not because of me, it's because of gabriel. he doesn't deserve this.”

“i know,” mikey said, reaching his hand out to caress his son's wispy black hair. you knew he wasn't going to take him. mikey needed comfort and gabriel was an easy little one to be comforted by. he was small and innocent. he loved his parents unconditionally because he didn't know the horrors of the world. he was being cradled in the bathroom unaware of anything that had occurred. he was blissfully ignorant. he was protected because he wasn't mature enough to understand the complex emotion that was surging through the apartment.

“i know you're going to have bad days. i know that you're going to relapse, and i know that this can't be fixed in a week, but damn, you have to try or i'm going to leave with gabriel.”

mikey leaned his forehead on yours. a quiet and consoling agreement that he would try his best. he couldn't ruin this with you. he made enough stupid mistakes with you in high school. he was supposed to be apologizing for those times now when he truly cared for you. he didn't reconnect with you later in life to keep being stupid, okay—maybe forgetting the condom a couple of months before your marriage was stupid, but the point was he wants to make things right.

the rest of the night was painful. you stayed up watching mikey sleep off his latest dose on the recliner and studying gabriel's small figure on the baby monitor. tonight seemed like the night that needed some silence even if it wasn't followed with peace.

mikey had taken your consideration of being sober seriously. he knew you were never one to back down from your word, and that ultimatum made him scared. scared enough to try and get his bearings in order, leave the beef to richie before he was past the point of no return. he was going to attend the narcotics anonymous meetings you had found online because they could allow him to find more resources to aid him. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, hell, he was living through the hardest part, wanting more—another dose—before he even got in the car with you to attend the meeting.

he didn't want to be the dad that wasn't around. he gets sober or you leave with gabriel that was the deal. he couldn't stop this alone but that was the most difficult part—admitting he needed help. he couldn't keep fighting with himself, ignoring his fatherly duties, and he couldn't keep hurting you. he knew he wasn't acting like himself and he saw it most when you gave him that sad smile where your eyes wouldn't crinkle at the edges and your cheeks would barely rise. he knew he had to make a change.

“we'll be waiting for you because we love you,” you whispered in his ear. mikey had his nose buried in the side of your cheek, withholding the tears he so badly wanted to release. mikey was holding the railing to the steps of the church so tightly. his other hand was resting on gabriel's back. he was scared to let go. he knew he had to confront what had been haunting him. it wasn't just a back injury anymore it transpired well past that. it was beyond physical pain. it was an addiction. a festering, evil addiction that constantly gnawed at his entire body.

“i love you too,” he cleared his throat harshly, knowing if he said anything else he would break down. he wanted to do better. he wanted to be better. he needed to do better for the sake of keeping everything he loved.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

currently thinking about how serial killer!kaiser is strangely prideful whenever he listens to a true crime podcast about himself. about his own crime.

from a former international soccer superstar to a man who went too far in a fit of rage and ended up killing someone in an act of pure violence. kaiser knew that he could never return from this; this was too much, even for a piece of shit like him.

and yet an almost euphoric feeling electrifies his skin as he stares down at his first victim. he feels powerful. soccer could only bring him so much joy, but this. this was different. he was elated. he needed to feel this again; it was a drug. the sensation that he received after killing.

he never meant to kill the man. he never meant to kill his public relations manager. but he had been bothering kaiser so much, bothering him about being kinder to the press, bothering him about being more polite with other players, so much that kaiser beat him in a fit of rage and ended up killing him.

he barely managed to cover up, and the incident would go down in history as an act of random violence to an innocent man who just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

kaiser then didn’t kill anyone for a few months. three, to be exact. if a simple accidental kill managed to bring him so much joy, he wondered how much a true intentional murder would fuel him. his skin prickled at the thought, especially the idea that he could very well get caught in the act. the risk excited him even more.

the second victim of michael kaiser was his teammate, alexis ness.

kaiser had once been supposedly “close” with ness. at least, that’s how it was supposed to be. they were teammates in bastard münchen, of course they should’ve been close! but now that kaiser could play independently, ness was of little use to him. and yet ness still had a canine-like attachment to kaiser.

to get rid of such a one-sided connection, kaiser had stepped into ness’ hotel room with a sharp blade while they were in another country for a match. ness had frozen it place, too horrified to react. perhaps it was human instinct. perhaps it was logic. perhaps it was knowing kaiser too well. or perhaps it was pure, irrational fear. but at that moment, ness knew that he was soon to die.

alexis ness died from numerous stab wounds to the heart.

that was the moment people began to form suspicions towards kaiser. the two most important murders in recent soccer history were both two people who were supposedly close to kaiser. one was his very own personal relations manager, meanwhile the other was someone known to have worshipped kaiser. something had to be wrong here.

but kaiser still had millions of defenders. of course, when you’re good looking, anyone will defend you for anything. that’s just how it works. most of the defenders’ arguments was that some guy who hated kaiser continuously killed people close to him just to piss him off and upset him.

in reality, kaiser was far from upset. his theory was right; murdering someone on his own accord was far more satisfying that killing on accident.

another three months, another murder. this time, no one had a single piece of evidence that the murderer wasn’t kaiser. how could they, when the world’s newest #1 striker isagi yoichi was just murdered in cold blood?

now that many people thought about it, kaiser was always an asshole in press conferences and interviews. not only that, but in actual matches, he always seemed callous about his words towards ness, and he never seemed afraid to word his thoughts in possibly the most vulgar way he could with ness. and kaiser’s hatred for isagi wasn’t news; in fact, it was a common meme in soccer fandoms.

but it didn’t seem so funny anymore, now that it was genuinely plausible that kaiser really did kill their beloved striker and icon isagi yoichi.

finally, this was the murder that made kaiser famous. before he could get caught, he ran away. he ran away from fame, from soccer, from the spotlight that made him famous. he wore makeup to hide with rose and crown tattoo and his red eyeliner tattoo. he cut off the blue tips of his hair. it was almost like he was a kid again, living on the streets. the latter was true though.

the first time he hears his name mentioned on a true crime podcast, a subconscious smirk stretches across his face. he’s never felt so proud of himself, a piece of shit, in his life. finally, the world will truly know his name.

pictures of him are constantly trending all over the internet. he still has his defenders, which in his opinion, is hilarious. really just goes to show the current state of society in today’s world, doesn’t it? his pictures are shown in every video about his murders, from the rising hope of european soccer to cold-blooded and psychotic murderer.

so one day, as he’s walking on the streets as if he owns the place, you suddenly pull his hood down and you’re staring in awe. you’re an avid true crime podcast listener and watcher, and you recognized him instantly. you were never a fan of soccer, but you’ve always been interested in kaiser, especially after he became a murderer.

you know you should run. you knew that he was dangerous. but you’re intrigued.

a true crime podcast fan and their favorite murderer. really a match made in hell.

this has been consuming my thoughts and itching my brain this entire past weekend. im sick in the head.

[dustofthedailylife]

How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101

→ Masterlist || → Taglist -> Next Part

Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.

Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing

A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.

“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”

The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you. 

After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself? 

And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.

You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.

You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.

The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.

When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely. 

The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.

With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on. 

And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.

Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.

"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."

No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.

At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.

You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.

The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.

Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.

"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.

You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Now what?

You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?

You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on. 

All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head. 

Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.

And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room. 

You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.

You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.

You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.

Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second. 

He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.

He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.

You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.

“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.

“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.

You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.

“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.

When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.

“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.

You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up. 

“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.

“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”

“Wriothesley.”

After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.

You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.

You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.

Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind. 

“Wriothesley!”

The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.

“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably. 

“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”

“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”

“Please. I insist.”

And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here. 

You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.

You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.

“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.

“No. It’s just… why–?”

“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.

“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.

“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.” 

You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”

“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.

“Why are you here?” You continued prying.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.

You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.

A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other. 

Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.

“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off. 

You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.

On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.

"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively. 

As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.

"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.

"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.

"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.

"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.

“Duke?” You asked confusedly. 

“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.

You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.

The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.

You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.

“Stay.” 

You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.

“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.

“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.

“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.

Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!

The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.

You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.

You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.

"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.

Just who was he?

But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.

Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.

Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.

"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.

"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.

"That you're innocent."

"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-" 

You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

"I know." He reiterated firmly.

You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.

"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.

"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.

"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.

He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?

"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"

"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide." 

And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.

His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.

He was the one who saved you earlier.

He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."

You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.

"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."

But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.

"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.

A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.

And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.

And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[imtryingbuck]

Choices

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader. past Bucky x fem!Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: Steve’s in a relationship with reader and Bucky and goes back to Peggy when he comes back he regrets it

Word count: 1,963

Warnings: angst. stupid Steve. pregnancy. fluff. swearing.

Masterlist

Walking into the wooden area that Bruce had the portal set up for Steve to take back the stones, hand in hand with both Bucky and Steve you noticed the brunette giving glances to the blonde to your left, when you gave him a questioning look he just smiled. A smile that looked forced and didn’t reach his eyes.

You should have realised something was wrong when Bucky whispered in your ear to go and talk to Sam whilst he spoke to Steve, you should have noticed the hushed argument between your two boyfriends but you were distracted by Bruce’s explanation of the portal and Sam’s million questions.

You should have realised something was wrong when Steve kissed you deeply or when Bucky only gave him a quick kiss before stepping back to be behind you instead.

Or that his last words before he disappeared back into the past was ‘I love you’ to you and your other boyfriend.

“Bruce where is he?” You asked nervously as he hadn’t returned.

“I-I‘m not sure”

Looking at Bucky who refused to look at you, finding the twig he was kicking lightly with his foot more interesting. “Buck? Bucky where is he?”

“I-Y/n/n-“

“Bucky”

At Sam’s voice you both turned to face where your closest friend was looking, on a stone bench sat an old man that was most definitely not there to begin with. Sam slowly walked over to the man leaving his friends behind.

“He’s gone back…back to Peggy”

“N-no-no he wouldn’t! James…he-he wouldn’t do that!”

“Baby he’s already done it, I’m so sorry” he hates the way your eyes filled with tears and the way you clutched at your chest.

“B-but why? Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough for him? It’s my fault Buck, it’s my fault he went back to her and left you”

“God no baby! Baby he didn’t leave because of you I promise you that, I-I don’t know why he left us but we’re not alone we still have each other, right?”

“W-what? You still want to be with me now that St-he’s left”

“Of course I do, I love you just as much as I love him”

“I love you Bucky”

Though you meant every possible meaning of those words you couldn’t help but feel partially to blame for Steve abandoning the brunette in front of you, the same one he fought so hard to save, protect and defended. Steve cried in your arms when he confessed he had feelings not only for you but his longest friend, he was so confused and ashamed, not of his sexuality but at the fact that he was in love with two people at the same time. When you whispered to him that you had fallen for both super soldiers he blushed and gave you the most shyest smile you had ever seen. And unknown to the pair of you, the other missing piece of your hearts was standing outside of Steve’s office. Bucky’s heart soared when he heard his two loves saying that they loved him back.

It took a few weeks after the confessions before you three started dating, none of your friends-family was bothered as long as you were all happy. 

And yes even though Steve hadn’t left Bucky behind in a world where he was still learning how to operate in on his own because he had you and of course Sam but it still upset you, he left the pair of you for some woman who he kissed once, some woman who had moved on with her life - marriage and all, the same woman who had a niece that he kissed a few times. It made no sense to you.

“Baby…Y/n-“

“I need to talk to him, I need to understand why he left us for a woman who told him to move on and be happy, she told him that Buck! I was right there when she said it!”

“I know doll but-shit”

You were already out of his grasp and was walking over to Sam and the old version of your former boyfriend, your feet faltering when you saw Steve handing the shield over to Sam. Shaking your head you stood next to Sam, eyes slanting as you got a proper look at Steve.

“Y/n/n-“

“Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Did she make you happy? Did you have a great life? Did you even think about me and Bucky?”

“Of course I thought about you and Buck, doll you both mean the world to me”

“Did she make you happy?” You repeated the same question.

“Yes” he answered hesitantly with his eyes closed.

“Did you have a great life?”

“Doll-“

“Did you Steven, yes or no?”

He hesitated once again before answering “yes”.

“Good. Good. Well goodbye Steven” 

“Y/n-“ Steve tries to stop you from backing away by reaching out for your hand, with a shake of your head you move away and walk towards Bucky who took your hand in his as soon as you reached him.

Heading back to the home you three once shared not knowing how empty the place was going to feel now it was just the two of you.

The bed felt bigger and colder now that Steve wasn’t cuddled up on the right side of the bed - his side. Every night without fail you three would lay in bed all snuggled up and one by one you said ‘I love you’ Bucky always went first, then you and then Steve but now that he wasn’t lying next to you, you both waited with bated breath for his response which never came.

You found yourself calling out for Steve whenever you heard the front door open and close, only to find Bucky standing there with a frown etched on his face. He was the same though, one day he walked into the kitchen where you were, saying “Stevie, remind me to pick up milk. Steve-shit. Y/n I’m sorry”.

Of course neither one could blame each other, Steve had been a huge part of your day to day life. You both understood that this new life of yours would take time to get used to.

Since he had left you both for Peggy you both started questioning yourselves, wondering if the other was going to leave next. Not that you told each other your worries and doubts, terrified of coming across as needy, insecure. Beyond terrified of thinking that the other would only stay because you had mentioned it.

As the months went by and the seasons changed so had you and Bucky.

Three months after Steve had left, you had settled down in to bed waiting patiently for Bucky to finish his nightly routine, you frowned lightly when you didn’t hear any noise or movements coming from the joint bathroom.

“Buck? Have you fell asleep on the toilet…again? Bucky?” There wasn’t even a grumble of a response, not like last time when he had gone into the bathroom to do his nightly routine and Steve ended up going to check on him, the blonde bit his lip to stop himself from laughing he went back into the bed room to get Y/n, going back into the bathroom together they saw Bucky in his pjs sitting on the toilet fast asleep. It was lucky that Steve also had the serum because he was able to carry Bucky to bed.

Getting out of bed you went to check on him, frowning when you saw him standing in front of the mirror holding something in his hands. “Buck?”

“I-I found this” this being Steve’s razor. “I-he left us Y/n/n”

“I know bub, I know.” Your heart ached when he turned to face you with tears in his eyes. Seeing Bucky cry was something that always tugged painfully at your heart, he had gone through so much pain in his long life it wasn’t fair for him to be still going through it all because Steve decided he wanted a fantasy instead.

“I-it isn’t fair baby”

Finally getting Bucky to put the razor down after twenty minutes of trying, you managed to get him into bed, he clung to your body tightly whispering how much he loves you. He fell asleep hearing your voice softly telling him how much he means to you, how much love you have for him.

You decided it was time to move out of the apartment and find somewhere new to call home after that night. It wasn’t long until you both found a forever home. Plus you needed to find a bigger place as you had found out that you were pregnant two weeks prior.

For five years you and Bucky lived in the perfect haven, a four bedroom cottage with a few acres of land behind it that Bucky absolutely loved tending to. Bucky had built his own greenhouse with the help from Sam, he was so proud of everything he had grew in there ranging from cucumbers to tomatoes to potatoes and everything in between, the chillies however weren’t turning out like he wanted which made him a little defeated.

He loved his greenhouse. It became his happy place.

Whilst you and Bucky were getting your four year old twins sons and one year old daughter ready for a fun day of activities Sam was standing at his front door staring at someone who he thought he would never see again.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are Y/n and Bucky here?”

“No. Again what are you doing here?”

“W-where are they?”

“Steve, what are you doing back?”

Sighing, looking down whilst placing his hands on his hips “I made a mistake okay, I went to our apartment and someone else answered told me that they had been living there for four years, so I came here”

“Why? You can’t really expect to leave your partners whilst living a fantasy just to come back five years later.”

“It was a mistake, I miss them, it’s them I love”

“But you didn’t love them enough to stay, right?” Sam retorts, wanting to laugh at the man who didn’t just abandon his partners he claims to love but also him.

“I-I made a mistake okay Sam! Just tell me where they are so I can explain to them”

“I don’t think thats a good idea”

“Why not?” The blond snapped.

“Because they’ve moved on from you Steve, they moved on.”

“B-but I can make it right between us, please Sam”

“You can’t just show up and-“

“Please Sam!”

“Fine, but just remember that I did tell you that they’ve moved on.” Sam told him the address and slammed the door in the man’s face, rushing to grab his phone to ring his friends.

The car pulled to a slow stop outside the gate, checking the number on the mailbox he got out of the car he had “borrowed”. His heart twitched at hearing children’s laughter ringing out in the summer evening, walking up the driveway his heart dropped at the scene in front of him.

Due to both Bucky and your phones being inside neither one received the many miss calls or messages from Sam to warn you both about the man who broke both of your hearts was on his way to yours, you didn’t know that he was standing at the side of the house watching you and Bucky playing happily with your children.

Steve smiled sadly seeing what he had missed out on for a fantasy like Sam had said. Slowly walking back to the car a few stray tears fell from his eyes.

He only had himself to blame for his heart aching the way it did by making the worst choice of his life.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

[obxsummer]

snow angel // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: the zoning hearing was already in the kooks favor, but they make sure to really dig deep in the wound. jj's faced with the ugly realization that luke maybank will always be a piece of shit, and sarah's there to talk you off a ledge when john b can't.

warnings: oh no not the ultima!, crash out rage, reader pushes john b, cursing, shoupe..... being nice?

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

--

City Hall was more packed than you had anticipated. Apparently John B’s plan had worked, which led to the group of you being surrounded by somewhat familiar faces in the small room. 

“I want to remind everyone to maintain civility and decorum throughout the rest of these proceedings,” The mayor reminded as the session resumed after a small break. You sat next to Sarah with JJ on your other side, the latter squeezing your hand in his. “We’re one island. Why don’t we all try to act like it? Any disruption will warrant expulsion and potential charges.”

You glanced at JJ, trying to communicate silently that he needed to take that seriously. You guys needed all the help you could get right now and if he acted out, it would be another nail in the coffin.

“Without further ado, we’ll start with our council members, beginning with Council Member Lawrence.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Agenda 8A, ordinance 31, zoning for the property located at the end of Roger’s Point Road. Uh, Mr. Mayor, we have a resolution from the town of Pelican expressing support for the rezoning of multi-use land on the east side of the island, including the aforementioned Roger’s Point Road property.”

Confused glances were shared amongst your group, realizing you might not even get a chance to defend your home. 

Pope leaned in, “Did he just say they already had a resolution?”

The question went unanswered as the council member continued, “The council is voting to recommend allocating the amount of $60,000 to begin to transition that said property…”

The sound faded from your ears as you stared ahead blankly. As much as you wished you could say you didn’t see this coming, the whole town was practically against you since day one. 

“....beginning with a representative from the occupants of the Roger’s Point property, which used to be the Maybank property.”

Your hand clamped on JJ’s flannel collar instantly, holding him down in his seat before he had a chance to go up there and rage on everyone. He tried to move out of your hold before your other hand moved down on his thigh to keep him in one spot. 

Looking past Sarah, you made eye contact with John B. “Go.”

Your brother pointed at himself in confusion, likely anxious to go speak before the rest of the group voiced their agreements. Cheering followed as John B stood up, making his way over you and JJ to walk up to the podium that was in the center of the room.

“Yeah, John B!”

“Alright! Let’s go!”

You let a rushed breath escape between your lips and loosened your grip on JJ’s hoodie but kept your hand on his thigh. He clapped loudly as your brother tapped on the microphone before the room quieted per the mayor’s request.

“Please state your name for the record.”

John B anxiously tapped his fingers against the wooden stand in front of him. “I am John Booker Routledge.”

More applause followed his statement before it was hushed again, the room open for your brother to speak.

“Look, I’m… I’m not a lawyer, by any standard… but honestly, this doesn’t make any sense. I mean, we bought the property at auction, and we have a fully functioning business and have had for some time. And-and now you have a motion for rezoning on our property? And if it passes, we lose our business. And we lose our home.”

“Because of some bullshit!” “The fix is in!”

“This isn’t fair!”

“They’ve got a right!”

You glanced around at the crowd who was starting to get to their feet in frustration. JJ grabbed your hand from his thigh and tightened his grip, the first sign his emotions were heating up. The mayor banged his gavel in attempts to calm the courtroom.

“Sit down, let him speak, and shut the hell up!” 

Once the room quieted down, the mayor motioned for John B to continue. “Mr. Routledge you can continue.”

John B looked down at the podium and you could see him taking calculated breaths to keep his nerves calm. Your brother was never the best at public speaking, but he’d been a leader his whole life, and you had full confidence in him to represent you in any instance.

“As most of you know, myself, my sister, and Sarah, we lost our fathers last year. All we are trying to do is rebuild a home. That’s it. Sir, with all due respect, we’re not looking for a handout. We just want to keep our home, alright?”

The rowdiness erupted as frustration seeped into John B’s words. It was obvious the Kooks were on the opposing side of the room with the way they were all glowering and sitting. One man got to his feet, asking to interrupt whatever John B was getting at. 

“Excuse me, excuse me. May I speak?” When the mayor gave his approval, the man continued, “There seems to be a misunderstanding. Okay? And I think I can clarify.”

JJ groaned loudly as Mr. Zeasy, the realtor who approved this whole shitshow, tried to walk up to the stand.

“Mr. Routledge, you have the floor. Are you willing to let Mr. Zeasy speak?”

Your brother leaned closer to the microphone, annoyance clear on his face. “If you can explain it a little better, Dale.” John B took a step back to let him move forward, giving him the opportunity. 

“So, what the, uh, current occupants of the land don’t seem to understand is that there is an injunction to invalidate the most recent sale.”

Your attention flipped to Pope immediately. “What does that mean? Invalidate it how?”

“There was a pre-existing promissory note from the original owner that was in the process of being finalized when the land auction took place.”

You whispered toward JJ as the crowd booed in response, “Your dad?”

“The bank wasn’t legally allowed to go to auction. We have a promissory note right here from the original owner, signed before the auction, and finalized by Judge Holden.”

“That’s impossible,” You continued to argue quietly. “Your dad was gone way before we got on that ship, there’s no way he signed it.”

“That means our sale was invalid,” Pope explained as he grabbed your elbow to get your attention. “They faked the date. How can they even do that?”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat growing with each second.

“Where is the original owner? And can he validate the authenticity of this document?”

Dale spoke up again. “Yes he can. He’s right here.”

The world spun beneath you as you turned around to see Luke Maybank stand from his spot in the back of the room. He still looked like the same piece of shit when you’d last looked at him

“What the hell?” You were on your feet instantly, glaring daggers at the man who’d taken so much from someone who you adored. “He’s a wanted criminal! He should be in jail!” Your arguement fell upon deaf ears as the crowd yelled equal protests. 

“Isn’t it obvious? He signs the promissory note, and in exchange he gets amnesty,” Pope huffed and fell back into the bench, his hands pulling at his hair. 

“Now, hang on. Unless I’m very mistaken, when this all shakes out, you nice young people will be compensated of course. And, and… hold on! The land will be a club for all!”

Your hands pressed against your ears tightly, hoping all the noise would fade away into nothing. This was so unfair, so fundamentally wrong of this town in so many ways. The Kooks would win, every time, because everything came down to politics and money. Everything.

“After they do it to us, they’re gonna do it to all of you!” Kiara shouted as she moved from her seat up to where John B was standing. “This is theft!”

You didn’t realize JJ was missing from next to you until Sarah was grabbing your elbow and pulling you back to reality. The crowd was becoming unruly and glass shattered somewhere in the room before you caught sight of JJ’s blond hair.

Your jaw dropped as he body slammed a police officer to the ground, a broken window close by telling you your boyfriend was crashing out harder than you anticipated. 

Shifting out of Sarah’s grip, you glared at Luke with a look that could kill and reached to grab JJ from the ground. “Hey, hey!” You grabbed his neck and leaned forward to kiss him quickly as people started shoving from behind. “Go! Be careful!”

A cop burst past you just as JJ took off, the two of them tumbling down the stairs of City Hall. More cop cars pulled into view with officers rushing from every angle. Sarah finally got her hold back on you to move out of the way. 

“What the fuck!” You screamed as they slammed JJ on the hood of the sheriff cruiser. You’d lost sight of Cleo and Pope, and there was no way in hell you were letting Sarah continue to get pushed around with her possible pregnancy. Grabbing her hand, you tugged her arm to get outside of the room and into the sunshine as people stormed around you. Other teens took the attacking the new police vehicles, someone jumping on the cruiser JJ had just been shoved in. 

“John B!” Your voice cracked with the force of your yell. Your brother was lost in the crowd, likely keeping hands off Kiara in the mass of people. 

“He’s over here!” Sarah pulled your hand to where you could see John B crowding the tail end of the car as Cleo kicked out the back windshield. You didn’t have time to be shocked and reached forward to grab the hood of JJ’s jacket while your friends helped pull him out of the glass covered surface. 

“Go!” Your brother shoved JJ’s chest and moved him away from you as Pope yelled to run. “Get out of here!”

You caught JJ’s gaze long enough to see how scared he was before he took off without another word. 

“Shit!” There wasn’t time to follow him before John B’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you out of the way of an oncoming brawl. “Come on,” John B let go of you with one arm to grab Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Pushing your brother’s arm off, you started running in the general direction that JJ had taken off, figuring he was heading into town since it would be empty from the crowd here. Your muscles burned as you continued to push yourself further. Your name echoed behind you as you gained a lead on your friends, your mind only set on finding your boyfriend and getting the hell out of here.

—

JJ was always an athletic person, but shit, he was running for sure. Your pace slowed eventually as you approached town, chest burning for a break. 

Turning the corner, you slowed at the sight of broken car windows, store doors shattered, and flames building from the electrical poles. You couldn’t see any sign of JJ, and the growing crowd wasn’t helping you narrow down where he could’ve been. Glancing around, you realized the power was out, and you prayed he at least managed to accomplish that first to take out any cameras nearby.

Shoupe was yelling into his walkie for all units, claiming the whole town would get looted any minute and he would need backup. 

A dirt bike nearly clipped you in the side before you realized you were in over your head and needed to move. You cursed under your breath, moving along with the crowd to blend in before you were ahead of them all. Without anyone to stop him, JJ wouldn’t hesitate to wipe the whole town out if he could. It was a perfect misplaced aggression, and the fact that other Pogues were joining in would only fuel him.

You tried to rack your brain for where he would go next: the house was off limits, it was too obvious. Kie’s dad wouldn’t hide him at the Wreck and there was no doubt anywhere on Figure Eight had cameras. 

“He went that way!” You turned at the sound of a voice, a girl you’d recognized from the bonfires pointing in the general direction of the rental estates down the street. You nodded, barely giving her a thank you before you were running again in hopes of catching up to JJ.

Evidently, he was making enough of a scene that the cop cars were rounding the corner and following your path to catch up to him. You ducked into the trees along the road, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as you ran alongside them until you landed on the vacation real estate side of the island. 

All of the Kooks with vacation homes ran their offices on the same road, and you had a good feeling you knew which one JJ would be hidden in. Before you had a chance to get ahead of the situation though, a handful of cop cars had surrounded the office, effectively cutting off your opportunity to get to JJ first. 

You took a deep breath, praying he could level his head out enough to make the right decision and keep himself out of harm enough until you could get to him. You pulled your hood up on your head and started in the direction of the building. 

“Stop, stop!” John B knocked you off course a second later, his hand wrapping itself around your sleeve to yank you to a stop. You panicked, knowing your brother would do anything it took to keep you safe, including letting JJ run wild.

Heaving for air, you shoved him away a little harsher than you’d intended. “Get off of me! They’re going to kill him!”

“Hey!” John B stumbled back with the force of your action, eyes widening in surprise before he steadied himself. “You’ve gotta calm down.”

You shook your head, body practically bouncing with adrenaline and glanced at the series of lights behind you. “I need to talk to him, okay? You don’t understand, he’s gonna-”

“I know!” John B took the chance to reach forward and hold your shoulders. “We’re going to get him, but you cannot lose it on us. Not right now, okay?”

Your brother read your expression like a neon sign. You were terrified, and you were right behind JJ’s crashout if he didn’t reel you in this second. John B knew you and JJ felt everything so strongly, and it was getting even deeper when you were together. The two of you were weirdly connected, like a radiating ball of chaos, as John B would call it. Whatever JJ was feeling would seep into you instantly, so it was no surprised you were as out of it as the blond boy was when he took off.

“Hey,” Sarah’s voice was much softer than your brother’s as she moved in front of you to stand next to John B. “I need you to stay with me, yeah? You said you’d help me figure it out.”

You knew what she was trying to do. Trying to lock you in one spot to protect her the way she knew you would with the knowledge you had. Sirens echoed around and you glanced away to see flickers of red and blue lights, a sinking feeling taking over your stomach.

Sarah whispered your name, her hand gentle on your cheek as she pulled you back. Your heart was racing, and she could practically feel it under her touch. Her lips mouthed please, and it was enough to break your hesitation, forcing you to nod. She took your hand in hers and looked up at John B who was staring at the two of you with confusion.

“Let’s go,” Pope pulled you all out of your moment and you started moving again at a slower pace. 

The chaos from City Hall was starting to catch up again as your group jogged up to the office where Shoupe was climbing out of a cruiser. The front door was kicked in, but thankfully it seemed like JJ hadn’t done much damage compared to downtown. 

“If you’re not in uniform, stay back!” Shoupe called out as Pope walked up in attempt to talk to him before he was pushed back into line by another cop. “Aright, JJ. You’ve gone too far, and we’ve got a serious situation!”

The crack of a firework had you jumping in your spot, head tucking like it would stop anything from happening. Hands trembling, you reached in your pocket to grab your phone, praying by everything JJ had his on him.

go out the back, you typed quickly, please be safe. don’t do anything stupid.

The read receipt popped up a moment after and you let out a deep breath, knowing the message would be enough to get into his head and shift his mindset. 

Looking up, Shoupe was still trying to talk to you boyfriend, but you knew damn well he would be long gone by the time they put together the pieces. You shifted away from your friends, John B’s fingers just missing your shoulder as you walked forward.

“Shoupe!” You called out his name and raised your hands slightly to show that you meant no harm as deputies swarmed instantly to prevent any interruption. “Shoupe, please!”

There were a lot of things that were difficult in the law force after Peterkin had died. Trusting people? Shoupe had always struggled with that, especially when the price was right. But now? With you standing feet away from him and the knowledge that he had about your past, he hoped he could trust you. The least he could do is hear you out.

Shoupe stared at you for a moment before waving you in, both deputies standing aside to let you do so. “Can you talk to him?” He asked you, holding the megaphone to his side as you stopped next to him. Deep down he cared for JJ, even if it was hard love.

“He’s not here,” You answered honestly and crossed your arms over your chest to hold yourself. “I told him to go somewhere safe. He might’ve been here before, but he’s not here now.”

Shoupe watched you closely for any telltale sign that you were lying. “He destroyed the town, so he’s in a ton of trouble. I know you’re smart enough to know that, so in order to keep this short, do you know where he is?”

It was obvious he was trying to intimidate you, but he wouldn’t win. You shook your head. “No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Shoupe, you know what his dad did to him. And you know it isn’t fair what they’re doing to us. The power’s out downtown, which means cameras are out, and you have no proof JJ did anything. I think you owe us a little wiggle room on this one. Please.”

The man hesitated. Last time you tried to interfere with an arrest, you ended up with a dislocated shoulder and he willinging took you back to an abusive household. Shoupe heard rumors, saw the bruises and injuries himself when John B was arrested that day. He should’ve never taken you back. Life had been cruel to you, and he didn’t want to keep that going.

“Get out of here,” He whispered, but the tone of his voice was understanding. “You kids need to lay low, do you hear me? Or I will be finding a reason to press charges.”

You nodded, trying not to look too excited at his reaction. “Thanks, Shoupe. Really.”

He nudged his head back toward your group. “Tell your boy he’s on thin ice, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You called over your shoulder as you made your way back to your friends. “I’ll ground him and everything.”

Shoupe started dismissing the scene behind you while the group stared at you with wide eyes.

“Do I even want to know what you did?” John B asked once you stopped in front of them. Sarah was smirking at you, knowing you likely sweet talked your way out of it. 

“Sold my soul,” You replied rhetorically before actually explaining, “What else would I do? I told him JJ isn’t here, because he isn’t.”

Pope tilted his head and waited for the elaboration. “But he is…?”

Your phone twisted between your fingertips as an answer. “Told him to run. Didn’t say where, just to stay safe.”

“He’ll be so safe,” Pope joked with a laugh as relief fell over the group. John B bent over and placed his hands on his knees with a huff, Kiara running her hands through her hair in disbelief. 

“Rude boy,” Cleo clicked her tongue and shook her head, “Always gotta cause trouble somewhere.”

A smile started to form on your face as lightning lit up the sky, a crack of thunder shaking your form just before rain started to pour down. 

John B watched you carefully, knowing you were coming down from your adrenaline rush and would crash any moment now. He turned toward Sarah, who had been looking at you too.  “You okay?” He asked quietly.

She nodded, breaking out of her daze to smile at him. “Yeah, just a long night. Wanna sleep.”

He nodded in understanding and pulled the girl closer under his arm. “Then let’s go home.”

--

The group scattered relatively quickly once you arrived back at Poguelandia. JJ had sent a rushed I love you text and the charter boat was gone, which meant he made it somewhere relatively safe for the night. Kie dismissed herself to shower, Pope and Cleo quietly shutting their door without much conversation. Sarah walked in, promising to make some sort of dinner, which left you on the porch swing with John B.

Your brother didn’t say a word but lifted his arm invitingly for you to snuggle into his side. JJ had sent a rushed I love you text and the charter boat was gone, which meant he made it somewhere relatively safe for the night. 

“Thanks for snapping me out of it,” You spoke quietly and tucked your feet up on the bench, pushing more of your weight against him. Rain pattered against the roof, lightning flashing across the sky every so often.

John B kissed your forehead wordlessly, his hand warm as it moved back and forth slowly against your arm. His mind was moving in so many directions. How was he supposed to take care of you and Sarah with no money and soon to be nowhere to go?

You flicked his forehead to bring him back to reality. “Earth to JB. Hello?”

“Sorry,” He mumbled, eyes blinking to refocus. “Just don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

You frowned and sat up, letting his arm fall back to his side. “John B, you don’t have to figure this out on your own. We’re going to do it together.”

“I know, I know. But we shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t even have to deal with this.” He turned to face you. “Do you ever regret going after the gold?”

The question caught you off guard. Did you? 

“Do you realize the amount of things that would be different if we didn’t find that Scooter’s boat that day? You would’ve never dealt with Rafe. We would’ve never lost our home, and Dad would maybe still be alive. Pope would be in medical school by now, Kie probably running a turtle habitat rescue and living as an influencer or something. Shit, JJ and I would be pro-surfers and probably competing. Life would be so different.”

“Do you realize how different it would be too? You would’ve never been with Sarah, she would probably still be with Topper. Cleo wouldn’t be here. We have answers about Dad, now. We wouldn’t have had Poguelandia, I would’ve never gotten with JJ. Sarah wouldn’t be-” You clammed up quickly, teeth sinking into your lip at almost spilling the beans to John B.

“Sarah wouldn’t be what?” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Sarah wouldn’t be here, with you. You’d still be a lonely and miserable fuck who bothered the shit out of me.”

John B opened his mouth in feigned shock, which made you laugh loudly, the two of you falling into a fit of giggles.

“Seriously, though,” You continued once the two of you had stopped laughing. “In a way, I got you back, John B. The version of us that existed when Agatha hit is not the version of us here, today.”

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands twisting between each other as he listened to you. 

“I don’t realize it, because I don’t question what we’ve done,” You said softly and set your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to change any of it because I have you, and we have this family that we’ve never had before on this level. I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, you know that?”

John B’s laugh was teary. “That’s the nicest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

A small smile form on your lips and you quickly brushed away tears of your own. “C’mon, Bird. I know I give you a really hard time. But you’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.”

You shoved his shoulder with a smile before curling back into his side with his arm around you. John B leaned his head against yours as the two of you watched the water move slowly against the dock. Cicadas buzzed around and the rain continued to pour overhead. The sounds so familiar, so comforting you almost forgot how insane the night had been.

“I love you, you know?” You whispered, eyes growing heavy with the events of the day.

“Yeah. I know.”

--

a/n: SIBLING! BONDING!!!!! see no pope arrest, and jj technically didn't catch major charges (i have no sense of criminal history, just nod in agreement and move on)

listen to snow angel by renee rapp!!!!

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