#there's just so much Guilt in wasting things when you don't have a lot and can't afford to be wasteful

[angelsdean]

the spaghettios scene hurts my heart so bad because i just Know dean very quickly regretted dumping those in the trash (anger response tho! he’s modeling john) bc that was wasteful and they have so little money to spend and he’s hungry  

[earthtooz]

x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ

in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.

warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL

a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.

There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.

Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out. 

Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.

If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.

Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.

His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever. 

By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.

You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home. 

What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation. 

The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk. 

“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.

“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten. 

What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps? 

If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?

“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.

When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to  how intense his stance is. 

“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”

“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you come visit?” 

“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”

He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.

“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”

The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”

“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him. 

However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?” 

“Oh, is that also on your mind?”

“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”

“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.” 

His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?” 

“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”

Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”

He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself. 

“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”

He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him. 

“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”

Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”

“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”

“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.” 

“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”

“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”

“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”

The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”

“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”

He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”

“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”

“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.” 

You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.

“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you. 

The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[ariestrxsh]

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, loss of virginity, oral, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, blasphemy, religious kink (?), manipulator!matt, possessive!matt

📝 author's note: 📝 this fic may be offensive due to sexualizing religious imagery, and i also just wanted to say, i don't think matt would ever in a million years use religion to get into a girl's pants, i just have sick twisted fantasies so idk if you don't vibe with this story, i get it, but for those of you who do, thanks for making me feel seen 💖

✍️ Summary: ✍️ After losing your virginity to your new boyfriend, being the good Christian girl you are, you start to regret it. You confide in Matt Sturniolo, who proposes an idea to make you pure again.

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

coming down part one

I could never be forgiven. Not after what I had just done. I was a young woman of God, but the choices I'd been making as of late weren't very godly. I'd had sex outside of marriage with a boy named Brayden that I'd started dating at my church. I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened. It only lasted a few minutes, and it wasn't even very good, so it all felt like a waste, and all the guilt was setting in.

What had I done? How could any man want to marry me now? I had been tainted and ruined, and for what? I didn't even want to look at Brayden anymore. Never mind date him, but I didn't know how to end things, and I was wondering if I even should.

I was sitting underneath a tree in a cute modest dress waiting for Wednesday service to start, thinking about all my decisions, and praying to God for forgiveness when Matt Sturniolo approached me. The Sturniolo's were a very important and highly regarded family at our church.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Matt came up to me and stroked my cheek with his finger, sensing my discomfort. "I'm too embarrassed to say," I mumbled, looking down. "You know, you can tell me anything," Matt assured me, tipping my chin up with a finger. "Well, I had sex with a boy I'm dating. It was my first time, so now I'm not a virgin anymore," I responded, and I started to cry. "And he didn't even make me.." I trailed off, realizing I'd said too much.

"Oh, darling. He didn't even make you cum?" He said with a sympathy in his voice. I shook my head no. "You know, you're really pretty when you cry," Matt smiled at me, wiping away my tears. I shot him a little smile. He looked around for a second to make sure no one was around us. "You can't tell anybody, but I know a way for you to repent and even become a born again virgin," he smirked down at me. "Oh really? You do?" My face lit up.

"Yeah, but it's a little unconventional, and you gotta promise it'll be our little secret," Matt whispered with a devilish grin overcoming him. I nodded. "Meet me after service tonight at my car, and I'll tell you how," Matt responded.

Of course, the sermon that was given tonight was catered to feed into my guilt. We talked about saving yourself until marriage and fleeing from sexual temptation. But I tried to remind myself that if Matt really knew a way to make it all better, it wouldn't matter, and I wouldn't have to feel the heavy burden of my shame anymore.

Once church ended, I skipped off into the sunset to the parking lot and met Matt by his car. "Hi, princess," he greeted me, pushing a strand of hair out of my face and holding the car door open for me. I smiled at him, and I got in. He was so nice to help me out.

"First things first, do you have somewhere we can be alone?" Matt asked me, getting into the driver's seat. "We can go to my house. My parents are out of town," I told him, and he bit his lip at this. "Yeah? Show me how to get there, princess," Matt said, turning the key in the ignition and starting up his car.

Once I directed him to where I lived, he parked in my driveway, and we found ourselves alone in my bedroom sitting on my white comforter.

"So you know how I mentioned this is an unconventional method," Matt started. "Yeah, just tell me what I need to do," I told him. "Well, I have a special gift that God gave to me, but you can't tell anyone about it," he confided in me. "What is it?" I asked, my eyes widening. "If I have sex with a girl who has been tainted, I can make her pure again," he whispered.

"Really?" I asked him. "Yeah, but you have to do exactly as I say or else it won't work," he smirked while he studied my reactions. "How do we start?" I inquired, eager to be forgiven. "Well, first, I have to get you wet, silly," he responded in a rasp while his hand traveled up the skirt of my dress and he pulled it up so he could get a better look at my white cotton panties that had a little pink bow on the front of the waistband.

"Wow, you look so pretty in these," he whispered to me as he took his hand to my mound and applied a little bit of pressure while he worked it in circles. I let out a soft moan as I felt the front of my panties start to get wet.

He pulled my dress up the rest of the way, and I lifted up my arms to help him pull it all the way off me to reveal my matching bra. "Wow," Matt gasped, teasing my nipple through the cotton fabric with his teeth. It felt so good the way he was nibbling on my breast while he reached down into my waistband.

"Good girl, you're getting so wet for me," Matt hummed against my chest. I couldn't help but reach up and lock my fingers into his hair. I'd never felt this good before. "Before I can properly purify you, you'll need to call your boyfriend and break up with him," Matt said, looking up at me. "Right now?" I asked. "Yes," he commanded, handing me my phone. I was scared of how Brayden would react, but I had to do it to become a virgin again. I found his contact in my phone, and it started ringing.

Meanwhile, Matt was pushing me back onto the bed, slithering between my legs and peeling my panties off my body. "Hey babe, what's up?" Brayden answered the phone while Matt lowered his mouth onto my glistening pussy.

"Oh, uh, Brayden," I started, my eyes growing wide as I watched Matt's eyes watching me while he tenderly licked me. "Are you okay?" Brayden asked me after a small whimper escaped my mouth. "Yesss. N-no, actually. W-we need t-to br-break up," I managed to get out while Matt teased me with his mouth.

"Break up? What?! Are you busy? Can we meet up and talk about this?" Brayden asked in a distressed voice. "I am b-busy. Can't talk now," I said, letting out another whimper as Matt closed his lips down around my special button, sucking on it while he rapidly moved his tongue from side to side. And I hung up before I could hear Brayden's response.

"Good girl," Matt hummed with his head between my thighs. "Do I make you feel better than that ex-boyfriend of yours, darling?" He cooed, moaning against my clit sending vibrations through me. I bit my lip and nodded. "Did he ever eat your pussy?" He asked me. I meekly shook my head no. "What a shame, he missed out."

His tongue swirled around me in places no one had ever explored, sending a current through me I'd never felt before. "Matt, it feels so nice," I mumbled. "Good, sweetheart. That's how it's supposed to feel." My body started to respond without me telling it what to do. My hips bucked forward, grinding up against Matt's mouth, and my legs started to lock down around his head.

Suddenly, a feeling I didn't recognize started brewing in my lower stomach. It was like a twitch I couldn't control, and I felt something inside of me snap. It felt like an explosion. I threw back my head, and my eyes rolled back as I let out a final squeal. The wetness between my legs turned into a gushy mess, and Matt used his tongue to clean it all up.

"Oh my gosh. What was that?" I asked Matt, panting and looking down at him wide-eyed. "That was your first orgasm, sweetie. You did so good for me," Matt smiled, secretly loving that he was the first one to ever make me cum, even aside from myself. I'd tried masturbating before, but I always felt too guilty to finish, so I'd never experienced anything like what Matt had just done to me. "I didn't know I could do that," I whispered.

"We're not done yet, darling. I still have to purify you. That was just to get you ready," Matt looked up at me with a dark expression on his face. He took off his clothes, unzipped his pants, and took out his cock. It was bigger than Brayden's, longer and thicker. I couldn't lie that I was a little intimidated.

"What now?" I asked with my eyes glued to his hard shaft that stood before me. "First I need you to do the same for me and get my dick wet with your mouth, princess," he caressed my face with the back of his hand and brushed his finger against my lips.

"What do I do?" I asked. "Awh, sweetheart, is this your first time sucking cock?" He bit his lip, and I nodded. "Don't worry, princess. I'll talk you through it. I'm gonna need you to kneel down on the ground for me, okay, baby?" He told me. "Like when I pray?" I asked, getting up off the bed. His eyes twinkled with a dark satisfaction. "Yes, princess. Just like when you pray. Except instead of worshipping God, you're gonna worship my cock, okay?"

I kneeled down like Matt said, and he took his member into his hand, started stroking it, and told me to open my mouth. He placed the mushroom-shaped head between my parted lips and told me to suck on it like I would a lollipop, and so I did.

"Mmm, good girl. Now lick it," he said, and I started flicking my tongue across his smooth tip, which elicited a few satisfied sounds from him. "Now do both at the same time," he guided me, and so I did, and his breathing got a little heavier. "Good girl," he cooed. "Now, use your hand. That's it. Move it up and down. Oh, twist it a little as you stroke - oh yes," he smirked down at me while I did as he said. "Keep that up, sweetheart. That's perfect. You're such a good learner, aren't you?" He whimpered.

I was worried about disappointing him and messing up, but based on Matt's facial expressions and his verbal reactions, he seemed to be really enjoying it. Every time he praised me for the way I worked my mouth below his waist, I felt myself get wet again. Matt was such a good teacher. And he was so nice for helping me become a virgin again. I loved making him feel amazing. It was the least I could do. I did exactly as he said, put him deeper into my throat which tripped my gag reflex, and I was a little embarrassed as I started to asphyxiate with him in my mouth, but he relished in it.

"Good fucking girl, choke on it," he grunted while he looked down at my lips wrapped around him. I wondered if Matt should really be swearing while he was purifying me, but I didn't want to question him, and he was also really turning me on. "Okay, princess. I'm getting really close. Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't be afraid, but I'm gonna bust in your mouth, okay? Just swallow it when it comes out," he ordered me.

Anything to become pure again.

With a loud final grunt, I felt him fill my mouth with a sticky, creamy substance. I'd only encountered it once, and it was when Brayden came all over my stomach after we had sex, but I'd never had it in my mouth before. And it tasted unlike anything else I'd tried before.

"Good girl, can you swallow for me?" He softly asked me, and I choked it down. He looked at me mesmerized after it was over. "That was your first time? That was amazing." I nodded. "Well, you're a good teacher," I smiled at him.

"Lay back, baby, I'm gonna purify you now," he whispered, lining his dick up with my entrance. "Is it gonna hurt? You're so much bigger than Brayden" I asked, nibbling on my lip. He couldn't hide his satisfaction hearing this. "It might for a little, darling. I promise to take good care of you. If it hurts too bad, I'll take it out, and we can try again," he told me while he stroked my cheek.

He started to slide himself into me, and my jaw dropped. It was definitely big, and it definitely hurt, but Matt was being very sweet and gentle. I let out a small sob, and he hushed me and brushed my cheek with his finger, "It's okay, sweetheart. Be brave for me," he whispered as he slid into me further.

He tenderly started rocking his hips back and forth, getting me used to his girth, and suddenly, the pain was bleeding into a euphoric feeling. "Oh, Matt," I softly whined into his shoulder. "Feel good, sweetheart?" He asked me. "Mhmmm," I moaned. He thrust his hips a little faster now, and he went a little deeper now that I could handle it.

Suddenly, he hit something that started to feel really good. I felt that feeling in my stomach again like before. I felt another explosion as my legs trembled, and my eyes rolled back again. How was he so good at that? I felt myself tighten around him, hoping I wasn't hurting him, but instead, he was moaning and grinning down at me, so I was thinking he probably didn't mind. I saw stars this time. It was even more powerful than the one before. "Hold on just a little longer, darling. I'm very close," Matt whimpered.

"Does this mean you're about to purify me?" I asked through my breathlessness. "Yeah, the only thing is, I have to cum inside of you. It's the only way to purify you properly," he looked up at me with a malicious smile. Matt was the expert, so I didn't question him. "Okay," I mumbled.

All of a sudden, I felt him twitch inside of me, and he filled me with his warm, sticky goo. "Fuuuuck," he smirked as he started to slow down his thrusts.

Once we were done, Matt rolled over and laid on the bed next to me. "Good job, you were such a good girl for me. Now you're all pure again. You're a born-again virgin now," Matt whispered to me as he stroked my face.

"Oh, thank you, Matt!" I exclaimed, hugging him. "The only thing is, you can't have sex with anyone else now until you're married. If you ever get that urge again, you should come to me for help," Matt smirked. "Really? You'd help me every time I get an urge?" I asked him. "Of course, princess. My tongue and cock will keep you pure, baby."

After Matt helped me back into my clothes and kissed me goodbye, I went to walk him out. Just as we got out into my driveway, Brayden pulled up. "Don't worry, baby. I'll handle this," Matt looked into my eyes and whispered before he turned around to face Brayden. "She doesn't wanna talk to you," he said. "Matt Sturniolo? What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you with my girlfriend? Babe, why is this loser over here?" Brayden asked, looking at me.

"As far as I'm concerned, you guys broke up. And the next time you take an innocent girl's virginity, the absolute fucking least you could do is make her cum. Get the fuck off this property, or I'll make you, jackass."

part two posted here 💖

tags: @st9niolos @theyluvme-2315 @luvs4matt @mattsbrowser @ribread03 @sturniolo-girl @strnlxlqve

[klausysworld]

He Left First

He turned up late, again. It was obvious he forgot we even had a date planned let alone what it was for.

He was underdressed for the Restaurant reflecting his lack of effort, no flowers or anything. I know I shouldn't expect a gift but I thought he might've for our two years.

His eyes were so distant when he looked at me. He only looked annoyed as he looked over the menu, as if it was a waste of his time.

Hesitantly I grabbed the little gift back from my side and placed it on the table infront of him.

"I wasn't sure if we were doing gifts, I know it's only two years...I don't know I just got something small." I muttered, feeling stupid for even bothering. I glanced at his face and saw it dawn upon him why we were here. His mouth opened a couple times, the guilt started to form as he placed the menu down.

"Love-" He whispered and I forced a smile.

"It's nothing special, it's only little." I mumbled, waiting for him to open it. Slowly he opened the gift, it was just a painting. In the early stages of our relationship he had tried to teach me but I wasn't much good so I had been practicing the things he showed me to make him it. "I know it's not great-"

"No...It's perfect." He muttered as he stared at it.

I felt a little awkward as it went quiet before the waiter came over to ask what we'd like to have, I just ordered a grilled chicken salad and Klaus mumbled for a steak. He let out a small sigh once the waiter left and put the gift back in the bag.

"I haven't been here enough as of late and I'm sorry." He apologised, his eyes boring into mine. "I'm gonna buy you a hundred presents tomorrow to make up for this-"

"It's really fine, I just want to have a nice night." I told him and he nodded, getting up and moving his seat round to sit beside me and wrap his arm round my waist. It felt nice to feel the warmth of his touch. The touch of his lips on my head and he whispered he was sorry.

When the food came he stayed beside me and we ate with light conversation of past dates that had been particularly funny or eventful.

Honestly it was going so well, one of the nicest dates we'd had until his phone lit up on the table. A collection of messages lining up on his screen.

He picked it up and unlocked it, revealing Camille's name to pop up over and over. A frown overtook his features as he opened the messages. She said she needed him, his help. I heard him sigh and I looked down at my half eaten meal knowingly.

"Y/N..." He whispered and I let go of my fork.

"Can't we just have one night without her?" I ask, my voice cracking.

"Love, she's my friend. I can't just leave her when I know she needs me-" He defended but I couldn't understand it.

"I need you." I argued but my voice was weak. "I need you but you'll leave me?"

"I'm not leaving you. I'm just helping someone out-"

"Yeah? I bet you help her out a fucking lot." I snapped and his eyes narrowed.

"If you're insinuating that I've been unfaithful..."

"So what if I am? Am I wrong? You haven't been sleeping with me so you're getting it somewhere-"

"Shut your mouth." He warned. I glared at him and felt my face burn with heat as people around us came to a halt in their conversations.

"Or what, Klaus?" I asked and his jaw tightened.

"I'm not doing this with you." He muttered, getting up and taking his phone. I should have just let him go but in that moment I needed him to hurt like I hurt.

"What, you're just gonna run away? You always gonna be a fucking coward Klaus?" I yelled and he didn't answer. "You're the same bastard your father raised."

He faltered in his step at that, his hand curled into a fist at his side but ultimately he kept walking out of sight.

I glanced round at everyone staring and just sighed. I grabbed my purse and pulled out enough money to cover the meals, leaving it on the table and snatched the disregarded gift bag before walking out too.

I cried in the street, facing a wall as i tried not to make any sound. I pulled myself together as quickly as I could before walking home. Realistically I shouldn't have even considered going back to that stupid mansion but I did.

I ignored everyone as I went upstairs and got in one of the spare beds. I didn't bother cleaning my skin or changing my clothes, I just went to bed.

Even in the morning I just didn't get up, I just stayed there wondering what the fuck was going to happen. Part of me wanted to pack up and leave but...I loved him. I'd stayed with him for so long now, through far too much to just leave him right?

That being said when I heard the front door go and Rebekah asking where Klaus had been all night broke my heart because I knew he had been with Cami. I accused him of cheating so he decided to prove I was right.

I sniffed back my tears, refusing to cry anymore especially with him in earshot.

I forced myself up and got out of bed, stepping over the heels I had kicked off last night and opening the door. I stepped out and immediately saw him stood at the top of the stairs. Hair ruffled and eyes tired.

Neither of us spoke a word as I went into the bathroom next door to shower. When I came back out in my towel I found my comfy clothes laid out on my bed. With reluctance I accepted the gesture and got dressed. There was no point in drying my hair or having any makeup on so I just wondered downstairs.

Everyone was being awkward. Rebekah tried to come talk to me but I told her it was okay and it wasn't a big deal and I'd come talk to her when I felt a little better.

I went back to the guest bedroom and stared up at the ceiling. There weren't TV's in the rooms nobody used and I didn't have anything to do on my phone after the first couple hours so I just laid there.

When it got dark again a knock sounded at my door and Klaus came it. I didn't look over at him as he sat down beside me on the edge of the bed. His hand moved to touch me, stroking my palm and my fingers.

"Did you sleep with her?" I whispered, a little scared to ask.

"Not...technically" He muttered, his voice hesitant and guilty.

I didn't want to ask what that meant. Did he finger her? Eat her out? Did she suck him off and make out with him while convincing him to leave me for her? Was he here to break it off with me so he could just be with her?

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, a feeling of indifference bleeding through me as a numbness protected my heart. It was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"I don't ever want you to leave." He whispered. "I shouldn't have ever gone to her house especially when I was angry already. I ended up drinking so much..." He trailed as if remembering something. I sighed and stared into space.

"It's fine." I whispered and he squeezed my hand.

"What?" He asked and I shrugged.

"You haven't wanted to be with me for a while now...I just loved you too much to let you go but I don't have to let you go anymore, you left instead."

His fingers interlaced with mine but I didn't hold his hand back.

"I haven't stopped loving you." He admitted but I wasn't really sure I could trust whatever he said.

"You just love her too." I muttered.

"No, I don't love her. I truly don't. I don't know what's wrong with me but I know I'm wrong and I know I'm hurting you and out of all the people in my life, you are someone I never want to hurt so..." He paused for a second and I forced my eyes not to weep. "So I'm gonna do whatever you need me to do. I know we can't be together...I've broken your trust and I can't get it back until...well I don't know if I can."

"I'll just pack my things." I whispered.

"I can give you money to help-"

"I don't want your money, or your help. I just need you to leave me alone, I can't see you with her- I can't see you period." I told him.

I could physically feel my mental walls building up around me.

He left me alone a moment later and stayed out of sigh as I stuffed all my things into a case and called a cab.

It was a hotel I stayed in for a few days before I found a shitty motel that allowed long-stay for little money while I applied for jobs.

I was on my way to a work interview when I saw Klaus again. It had only been two weeks and I knew I looked shit. The shower at the motel was inconsistent of when it wanted to work, there was no hairdryer and I didn't have anything to straighten it or products to let it stay curly so it was just frizzy and I had no makeup or money to buy it so I looked as tired as I was due to the pathetic excuse of a mattress I was sleeping on. How I was going to get any job looking like I did would be a miracle or a massive pity party.

Klaus looked as perfect as ever, not a hair out of place when his eyes met mine across the street. He was there with Rebekah and I felt his gaze drift over me even after I kept walking away.

Part of me just wanting to feel his arms around me. But I knew that was wrong and I needed to get through this and he couldn't help with that. I wasn't sure anything could help, even if I had a new job and a beautiful house with a loving faithful family and two healthy children, I don't think I'd be able to look at Klaus and not wonder why I couldn't be enough for him.

If I wasn't enough for him, would I be enough for someone else?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

After the tense morning, you don't speak to Walter again that day. Or the next. When he arrives, he stays outside with his thermos of coffee and waits for Timothy. At the end of the day, he gives your brother an excuse about chores at home. Maybe not an excuse. He has been spending a lot of time around here.

Nearly a week after it happened, after everything changed, your mother appears in the kitchen with a crease in her forehead. You offer her a cup off coffee as she rubs her eyes. She yawns and and shakes her head.

“We'll grab a cup at the hospital,” she says, “you're father has a check-up. Timmy's taking us.”

“Oh?” You pour yourself a mug and lean on the counter, “I forgot.”

“Lots going on,” she sighs, “can't blame you for being distracted.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you shrug.

“I called Walter, left a message,” she checks the clock hung above the door, “wouldn't be too bad if he did swing by, huh?”

“Hopefully he doesn't waste the time,” you grumble.

“Honey,” she chides playfully, “you know, I think your dad would approve… if he could. He always liked Walter.”

“Mom,” you frown, “please, I have enough to worry about.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she whines, “I'm just… looking for a little sunshine through the clouds.”

You wince, a pang of guilt between your ribs, “I'm sorry, mom, I just… Walter's nice. He helps so much and I think… I think maybe it's too much.”

“Don't I know it.  He is so generous. I gave him some money and I found the envelope in my purse,” she tuts, “you could do much worse. He… he could take care of you.”

You exhale, “mom.”

“Just listen,” her tone turns dire and her eyes gleam, “your pa can't. He's not gonna be able to ever again. I already know what the doc's gonna day and you shouldn't fool yourself. Walter won't help forever, not for no good reason. And next year, your pa won't be back on his tractor…” she sniffles and dabs her nose, “those days are behind us.”

“Ma, you don't know–”

“I do,” she utters solemnly, “I see the man I married but he's hollow. He's… a shell, honey. He's there but he's not really.”

“Oh, ma–”

“I'm just saying… we need to weigh our options. I'll look into selling if we gotta and Timmy, maybe he can go work with Walt–”

“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?” You cross an arm around your middle.

“We shoulda been talking about this a week ago,” she shakes her head.

“Well, I can apply at the grocer or–”

“You do that,” she says, “but you think real hard. You got options,” she steps closer and cups your cheeks, “you're a pretty young thing. That doesn't last forever.”

You don't say a word as her greyness seeps into you. She draws away and you bow your head. You wait for her to go as you stare into the black depths of the coffee. You take a sip to try to chase away the ice in your veins but it only sends a shiver through you.

🌾

Your parents go off with Timmy in the truck. You set to sweeping the porch to keep yourself busy. Your mother's words ring in your ears. She can't be serious, there's more out there than the farm. Pa always said as much and you don't think he meant Walter.

As you get to the steps, the distant rumble of an engine rolls over the ground. You turn as gravel grits under treads and Walter's large truck lazily rocks along the bumpy road. You still the straw broom and grip the handle as he pulls up. Did he not get your mother's message?

He lingers in the truck as you squint against the sunlight. His door pops open and he jumps down, sending up a cloud of dust. He goes around the bed of the truck and opens the back.

He slides out a sheet of wood and drags it towards you. You watch in confusion as he stops and leans it against the side of the porch. His eyes meet yours and his brows furrow.

“Morning,” he checks his watch, “barely.”

“Morning, Mr. Marshall,” you eke out.”

His eyes flash and he nods. He turns and marches back to the truck, pulling out several planks before carrying them over. You watch him as you lean on the broom.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

He stops and looks up at you. He points to your feet and flicks his finger up, “building a ramp. For your dad.”

You look down at your slips flecked in dirt and stray strands of straw, “oh? Didn't ma call–”

“She didn't ask,” he says bluntly. 

Your lips slant and you tilt your head, “that's real nice.”

“Yeah well, I'm a nice guy,” he huffs and spins on the heel of his boots, stomping away once more.

He goes back to the truck and retrieves his toolbox. His agitation roils off his tense shoulders and the stone set in his jaw. You're too afraid to ask but you do need to. He has been avoiding you.

“Well, I'll stay out of your way,” you lift the broom and back up the stairs. “If you need anything–”

“Not in the way,” he says curtly as he takes out a measuring tape.

“Oh, I know but I wouldn't wanna bother–”

“I don't mind,” he shrugs as he steps onto the stairs and measures the angle over them.

“Right, of course, do you need anything? A glass of water or–”

“Seems like I'm the one bothering,” he stands and lets the tape retract harshly.

“No?” You bat your lashes at him, “I didn't say that, Mr.--”

“Walt,” he growls, “you know what I like best in a woman. Honesty. So why don't you be honest and tell me what you really feel?”

“I…” you gulp, “Walter, er, Walt, I… I'm just… confused.”

“Don't act like a child. We both know you're not,” he crosses his arms over his broad chest. You've seen him angry before but it's never been aimed at you. 

“I… I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry. Okay,” he shakes his head and unfolds his arms, going back to measuring, “I'm open to talking when you wanna be an adult.”

You flinch as you watch him. He grits his teeth, ignoring your presence as he focuses on his work. You turn, hiding the hurt deep in your chest. You never meant to hurt him but you really don't know. As much as you try to wade through your feelings, you only feel as if you're drowning in them.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm sick and tired of people writing posts about how if you don't always support your "crisis friend," then you're a horrible piece of shit who sucks the dick of capitalism and only thinks through hyper-individualism. I'm fully convinced that these people never had to deal with a "crisis friend," and they're either surrounded by (mostly) mentally healthy people or they are the crisis friend and don't realize it.

A crisis friend sucks the life out of you, will cross all the boundaries you'll set, and then, once you tell them that you're hurt by their behavior, they'll go to other friends and act like you're a big meanie who abused them.

I recently had to close off a relationship with a crisis friend because their objective in life was to drag me down too.

I like an actor? He's surely a rapist. I post a fic and people enjoy it? I shouldn't be happy about it because the fandom is small and those are very few comments and I'm wasting my time. I find the name of an aesthetic I like? I'm not allowed to, because it reminds them of *extremely triggering memory they'll tell me about in detail when the only thing I wanted to talk about was something silly.* I wasn't allowed to discuss my employment situation because theirs is wobbly at best, and if my family gifted me something nice for whatever occasion, I had to keep it to myself because it would upset them.

Crisis friends won't bother remembering your birthday (not even the month, just to have a general idea of when they're supposed to ask you about the specific date), they won't bother remembering what you like, and they won't care about your boundaries.

I have very few "no-nos," in friendships, and one of them is that I don't want to be put anywhere near the word or concept of rape because I was sexually assaulted as a teen and it was so traumatic I had to drop out of college and go through EMDR. My crisis friend never bothered remembering that, gleefully sending me articles of celebrities who got accused of having assaulted someone.

This is not friendship, and you're not sucking capitalism's cock if you don't want to be someone's burnt-out, underpaid, and mistreated therapist, and I don't give a shit about what Wannabe Communist Tumblr Users think about it.

--

One trillion percent they are the crisis friend.

And they do realize it.

That's why they're writing guilt trip posts to try to move Tumblr's general understanding of boundaries and appropriate behavior back in a direction that favors them.

--

Your particular... uh... "friend" sounds more than usually toxic.

The more commonplace version of the crisis friend is a lot better at not sending you triggering stuff and not insulting the fuck out of your interests.

They do still want free therapy all the time and have trouble understanding why that's just not a fair burden to put on their friends and/or they do kind of know but are in too much of a crisis all the time to figure out how to stop.

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 4)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 2.9k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating, caught masturbating, overall mature themes.

slight trigger warning for thoughts of death?? (except Derek isn't really suicidal he's just a drama queen)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

It's been nearly twelve hours since you accidentally walked in on Derek doing the unspeakable, and you're still kicking yourself for it.

In an attempt to make it up to him, you'd spent the morning making a nice breakfast. Unfortunately, it's almost noon now, and he hasn't left his room.

No way in hell are you going to go knocking on his door. Not after last night. The image of him finishing into his own hand while making eye contact with you is still burned into your brain. Fuck, he ended up covered in cum. And that stupid fucking face he made...

Oh god, think of something else. ANYTHING else.

You turn your attention to the breakfast you'd prepared for the two of you. The cold breakfast. Sighing, you scrape the eggs and bacon into a container for later.

Why did you even open the damn door? Obviously he was jerking off. Horny bastard. Of course, when you'd heard the whimpers and moans coming from his room, you'd assumed he wasn't feeling well.

Which was a valid assumption to make, right?? I mean, he sounded absolutely pitiful, what were you supposed to think? You swore up and down he even called out your name once or twice, but fuck, you didn't want to think about the implications of that.

And so, after knocking and saying his name a few times, you had decided to just go for it. How were you supposed to know he was doing... that??

"It's not my fault." You grumble to yourself, blindly shoving the leftovers into the fridge and trying to shrug it off.

Then again, even if the initial situation wasn't your fault, you still owed him an apology. You'd absolutely been staring. Gawking, even. It probably took a good five seconds before you'd come to your senses and slammed the door, but five seconds was enough for him to... oh god. Stop thinking about it.

You try physically shaking your head to dismiss the perverted images plaguing your mind. It works... sort of. As you make your way up the stairs to his bedroom, your stomach knots with guilt.

Just about anything sounds more appealing than knocking on his door right now. Unfortunately, that's what you're about to do.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek's plans for the day only include one thing, really. Rotting in bed and wishing he was dead.

He figures if he locks himself in his room long enough, the three weeks will eventually pass without him having to show his face to you ever again.

Or he'd die first. With the way he felt right now, that would honestly be fine too.

He groans into a pillow, desperate to hear something than the pounding in his head. He's been trembling all morning, a sign he really needed a fix.

The guilt has been eating away at him almost as much as his stupid withdrawals. He replays the scene from last night over in his head for the millionth time, internally screaming at himself for not covering up. Or locking the damn door.

He knows there's nothing he could have done to change what happened. The timing was just too... perfect. Looking at your pretty face while he came was literally a dream come true.

The aftermath, unfortunately, was a nightmare.

There's no way you don't hate him now. Or at least feel completely disgusted. After all, you'd slammed the door and left him.

So this is his fate. Rot in bed until he wastes away. It's all he deserves, really, for being such a fucking pervert.

"Derek? You still alive?"

He nearly falls off the bed in his scramble to make himself look presentable.

"...Yeah." He eventually croaks out, trying to smooth his curls with one hand and pull the blanket over himself with the other.

"Can I come in?"

Derek begrudgingly agrees, sitting up against the headboard in an attempt to look less pathetic.

You slowly swing the door open, looking visibly relieved when he isn't... exposed. Like last time.

Before he can even think about what he's saying, the words roll off his tongue.

"I'm sorry." You both say at the same time.

Wait, that doesn't make sense. What do YOU have to be sorry for? He's the one that fucked up. Derek's brow furrows as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"I- I mean it." He stutters. "I really didn't... didn't mean for you to see that."

He avoids your gaze, turning away as you place a hand on his leg. Well, on the comforter covering his legs, but close enough.

"I know." You seem equally uncomfortable, silently looking around and examining his bedroom. And it is HIS room, decorated to suit his tastes. Unlike the other guest rooms in the house, which are all decorated in shades of pastels and beach-themed paraphernalia.

He squirms a bit, starting to get self-conscious of his own design choices. The dark wood furniture with gold accents stand out against the emerald green walls. Under usual circumstances, he'd feel proud of the expensive atmosphere. Right now... It all felt gaudy.

"I love all the animal print." You say, eyeing a pelt hanging on the wall above his dresser.

Derek winces. Yeah, okay, maybe it was a bit much.

"I picked out these decorations, like, 5 years ago. Cut me some slack." He grumbles, crossing his arms and giving you a pouty look.

"It looks nice." You smile, scooting a little closer to him on the bed, your hand trailing further up his covered legs.

"Don't lie."

"..."

"Okay, It looks like you gave a redneck with no prior knowledge of interior design an unlimited budget and a kilo of cocaine, then set him loose and told him to go crazy."

Damn. He'd be pissed at that if you didn't look so... warm. Even with the harsh words, he could tell you were only teasing.

"To be fair, I probably was on cocaine when I picked all this shit out." Derek snorts, gesturing around to the clashing animal prints, gold-rimmed mirrors and paintings, and wood accent pieces.

That little comment seems to make you waver. Shit. Bad joke?

"Not anymore." He tries to assure you, putting his hand on top of yours. You still haven't moved it from his thigh. "I haven't had anything like that since I got here, and it sucks. I feel like shit."

He slumps slightly against the headboard, letting his put-together act fall. Not like it was a very good act, anyways.

"I believe you, just... I feel bad. I'm sorry for last night."

Derek winces as the topic gets turned back to last night's activities. You didn't even have anything to apologize for, as far as he was concerned. He'd let you watch him cum any day. Make a show of it, if that's what you wanted.

Fuck. Stop thinking about it.

Derek struggles to listen as you ramble, instead staring into your pretty eyes and overthinking the way his hand is still on top of yours. You're saying something about how he shouldn't stay in bed all day, how he needs to keep a routine or he'll end up in a slump.

"...so can we just forget about what happened and move on? I don't think I can stand 17 more days of awkwardness." You finish, giving him a pleading look.

Forget about what happened? Derek's heart sinks into his stomach. He doesn't want to forget. Even though he hates himself for it, he loves what happened last night. He'd re-live it over and over again if he could, minus the part where you freak out and slam the door.

"Derek?" You ask again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Yeah. Forget about it, please." His face heats up and he finally takes his hand back from yours, nervously running it through his hair instead. He might not what to forget about what happened, but he sure as hell wanted you to forget about it.

"Done." You give him a relieved smile and hop off his bed. "Alright, I'm gonna wait for you downstairs. Come meet me soon or I'll drag you down myself."

Derek does as asked, going through the motions of his normal morning routine. That didn't go as bad as it could have, all things considered.

At least you don't hate him.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Derek eventually trudges downstairs, you already have lunch heated up for him. Or... breakfast? It doesn't really matter.

He refuses to eat at first. Stubborn man. He says he feels nauseous, but how does he expect to get better with no food in his stomach?

After practically forcing him to eat, you settle down on the couch with him and try to decide on a movie.

"We are not watching another stupid action movie." You grumble, snuggling up in one corner of the couch while Derek takes a seat on the other end.

"Well I'm not watching some cheesy chick flick."

"Then what do you want to watch?"

Derek shrugs.

"Oh my god, Danforth. Just pick. Comedy or Horror?"

"Comedy."

"Okay, Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey?"

He pauses for a bit, furrowing his brow in a way that you might find adorable if he wasn't being so damn difficult.

"Sandler."

"Okay then, we're watching Billy Madison." You turn your attention back to the television and smile to yourself as you search for the movie.

"I don't think I've seen that one." He starts to shift in his seat as the movie starts, looking restless. What's his problem?

"Do you want to...?" You look over at him, trailing off and patting your lap.

He nods, and immediately lies down on his side, cheek against your thigh.

"Thanks." He mumbles, looking more relaxed by the second as he makes himself comfortable on your lap.

"Mhm." You hum, turning your attention back to the movie.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for him to start getting restless again. You pretend not to notice the way he occasionally glances up at you, keeping your gaze fixed on the television.

His hand finds yours, slowly tugging it towards his head. You take the hint and run your fingers through his hair, chuckling at how needy he's being.

"Don't laugh." He groans, leaning his head back slightly and melting into your touch. "It feels nice. And I've been feeling like death."

"You'd better not die on me, Danforth. No one would come to pick me up for another two weeks, and I don't think your corpse would fit in the freezer."

"You could chop me up." He offers, shifting so that he's lying on his back, looking up at you with his head across your thighs.

God, that smug look on his face. Why did the bastard have to be so cute?

"Okay, this is getting morbid. Shut up and watch the movie." You do your best to scold him, but it's hard to keep up the façade while gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Make me."

Without hesitation, you slap your free hand over his mouth. His eyes widen for a moment, the smug look replaced with... something else.

Muffled noises come from his mouth as he attempts to speak through your hand, but you just laugh and continue petting him.

That is, until you feel his tongue on your hand.

"You're lucky you look so pitiful, Danforth, or I'd push you off the couch." You grumble, wiping your hand off on his shirt as he smirks up at you.

"Pitiful?" He scoffs, shoving your hand away from his chest.

"Yeah, sad and pitiful. You're a mess." You taunt him a bit, but your words are just as soft as the gentle touches you've been giving him.

Derek straightens best he can while lying your lap. "I'm not pitiful." He grumbles. "Stop pitying me."

His little act gets another chuckle out of you.

"It'll be easier if you stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With those puppy eyes."

Derek's brow furrows, and he frowns up at you while you tug at his curls.

"I have puppy eyes?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek spends the rest of a movie in a blissed-out state on your lap. Physically, his body is a wreck. He feels weak, shaky, and all-around ill.

But emotionally? He's giddy. The way you've been treating him lately... there's no way you don't like him.

Fuck, no, don't jump to conclusions. Just ask. Yeah. Simple.

As the credits roll, Derek finally works up the courage to speak up.

"Why do you put up with me?" He asks, shifting to look up at you while his head rests against your thigh.

You pause mid-way through stroking his hair, and Derek is scared you might be able to hear how fast his heart is beating. He can sure hear it, at least.

"What do you mean, love?" You finally respond, untangling your fingers from his curls and setting your hand aside.

That makes him groan out loud. See? Exactly that sort of thing. Always calling him love. It drives him crazy.

"You're just so damn nice to me." He sighs, tossing his head back slightly and closing his eyes.

"Oh? Should I be mean?"

"Maybe." He lets out an amused huff, but there's a twinge of bitterness in his voice. It isn't really a joke. You're just too nice. He doesn't deserve it.

You seem to pick up on his shift in attitude, because you start running your fingers through his hair again.

"It's my job to take care of you, you know. At least for the next... 17 days or so."

Right. Your job. Derek can't help but sigh. He finally finds someone who seems to be interested in him for reasons that aren't monetary... but only because his mother is literally paying them.

"Oh, don't be like that." You scold him, and start to nudge him off your lap.

Derek takes the hint, sitting up. Before he can stew over your words further, he feels you pulling him into an embrace.

The angle is slightly awkward, with his back against your chest and his head resting on your shoulder, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

"Stop... you're gonna make me soft." He grumbles, but makes absolutely no effort to stop your arms from wrapping around him. He melts back into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

From this close, he can smell your perfume. He's caught a whiff of it a few times before, usually when you get up close and personal with him in the kitchen. It's a soft, sweet, floral scent. Extremely different than the expensive, in-your-face scents of most women in his social circle. He's started associating the smell with comfort.

"Maybe that's my plan." You muse, giving him a tight squeeze before finally letting him go.

If only you knew just how well it's working.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Stop! You're getting sand everywhere!" You swat at Derek as he accidentally kicks sand onto the blanket you've spent nearly ten minutes arranging.

"It's a beach, sweetheart. There's gonna be sand." He scoffs, but carefully brushes off his legs before returning them to the large quilt.

After dinner, you'd realized you accidentally let him go an entire day without going outside. So, you'd dragged him out to go stargazing with nothing more than a blanket and a couple of flashlights.

"There's a difference between lying on top of it and being buried in it." You elbow him as he gets just a little bit too close. There's plenty of room for you to both stretch out, why does he have to be so clingy?

"I'm cold." He whines, grabbing at your arm.

"I told you to bring a jacket."

"I didn't think you were serious?! What kind of a beach is cold?"

You roll your eyes at him. It's not even cold, honestly. Just a bit brisk. There's a soft breeze coming from the ocean, smelling slightly of salt.

"Just cover up with the blanket."

"It's covered in sand."

"And who's fault is that?"

"..."

"Please?"

You finally turn to look at him, and you can feel yourself giving in almost immediately. God damn it. There's no way this man didn't know he had puppy eyes. Fuckin' manipulator.

"Fine. C'mere."

Derek scoots closer and you throw an arm around him, letting him rest his head on you.

You both lay like that for a while, staring up at the sky and listening to the soft crashing of the waves.

The moon is full tonight, illuminating the seemingly endless sand and water. There's a forest made of palms and ferns off to the side, and the leaves all ripple in the breeze.

"It's really pretty." Derek finally sighs, eyes still looking skyward.

"I know. You can actually see all the stars out here. In the city it's harder... light pollution or something." You shrug, making his head bob slightly as it rests on your shoulder.

Derek just hums in agreement. Poor thing. He looks exhausted, even though he slept until midday.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now. Not sure I could carry you back."

"I won't... promise..." He yawns and scoots a little closer, his arm reaching over and wrapping around your waist.

You should probably push him off, but damnit... he just looks so peaceful.

You rest your free arm on his, keeping him glued to you. It feels nice, all of it. His warmth, the cool breeze, the sound of the ocean, the twinkling stars... fuck. He's really growing on you.

Derek doesn't keep his promise, falling asleep in minutes.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: This chapter took FOREVER!! There were just so many different directions I could have taken the story from the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed the one I ended up with!! It was mostly fluff, I know... but Derek is just so cute. I can't help it.

Thanks so much for being patient, and for all the kind comments & asks!!! Feel free to send in literally anything, I don't get many messages in my inbox.

Part 5

[sp-by-april]

Yandere MBTI x Main Four

This is more of a breakdown I'm gonna use for reference when writing. I think this yandere fic is gonna go hard, so I'm gonna dig in.

The categories are cruel/reverent, aware/delusional, manipulative/honest and strict/lenient. Got this MBTI idea from @ddarker-dreams 💘

Cruel vs. Reverent

🤬 Eric Cartman: Cruel This is the most straightforward in this category. Eric will break you down and mold you in his own image. He's a sadist who will eagerly degrade you and then make it even worse if you don't put up enough of a fight.

🙌🏻 Kenny McCormick: Reverent Kenny worships the ground you walk on. He will drink your bathwater and ask for more. He thinks you're a fucking goddess and at his best, he will treat you like one.

🙌🏻 Stan Marsh: Reverent Stan's cruelty is all pointed inward for the most part. Stan is the guy who will write songs about you even though neither you or anyone else will ever hear them. Whereas Kenny's reverence for you is open and bold, Stan's is quiet. So much insecurity and self-doubt.

🃏 Kyle Broflovski: Wildcard, leans Reverent Kyle wants you and by his own account, you're worth having. He really does think the world of you. That temper though? He's prone to outbursts and will punch a hole in the wall if he's pissed enough. Cruelty for cruelty's sake? Never. But if you push him? His words will cut like a knife and leave quite the emotional scar.

Aware vs. Delusional

🃏 Eric Cartman: Wildcard, leans Aware Eric is a lot of things, delusional is occasionally one of them. Cupid me? Check. "You guys really think I'm cool"? Check. That said, I'd argue that Eric's scariest and most dangerous moments are when he is 100% lucid and clear-headed. When he first fixates on you, he knows you don't feel the same way, but that's immaterial to him. He'll get you regardless. Besides, he wouldn't be interested if you didn't present a challenge.

🤖 Kenny McCormick: Aware Kenny's a smart guy and for all his faults, he's still a clear-headed. He's nothing if not fucking aware of his lot in life and the states of his relationships. When you do come around to having feelings for him, he won't always feel worthy of your affection. He'll take it none the less, though.

🤡 Stan Marsh: Delusional Stan isn't delusional in the sense that he believes you love him when you don't, if anything, it's the opposite. He doesn't think he deserves you and he thinks you know it too. He'll reread your texts looking for any sign that you're upset with him.

🤡 Kyle Broflovski: Delusional Kyle can twist every glance from you into proof that you like him. Every coincidence shared between you is proof you were meant to be. He can get analytical to a fault, but he's also the most likely (other than Eric) to make emotion-based decisions. When those emotions trigger an analytical state? Watch out. He can convince himself of anything. You too, probably.

Manipulative vs. Honest

🤞🏻 Eric Cartman: Manipulative Do I really need to say more? Manipulative behavior is already a cornerstone of Cartman's personality, and here it's turned up to an even scarier level. Eric favors situational manipulation over emotional but he can and will use whichever seems more likely to get him what he wants.

😇 Kenny McCormick: Honest Kenny has no interest in manipulation for the most part. It's a waste of time and effort. He's not one to play games because he definitely doesn't appreciate it when people play games with him.

🤞🏻 Stan Marsh: Manipulative Stan favors emotional manipulation and unlike Eric or Kyle, he's not subtle about it in the least. He's an emotional guy, so appealing to your emotions is his go-to move. Definitely the type of guy to drop hints that he might hurt himself when things don't go his way. He is a master guilt-tripper.

🤞🏻 Kyle Broflovski: Manipulative Kyle doesn't just want you, he needs you. You can't be mad at a guy who'd do anything to fulfill his needs, right? So what's a little manipulation in the grand scheme of things? It's for the greater good. The ends always justify the means.

Strict vs. Lenient

🚫 Eric Cartman: Strict Eric has rules and you're gonna follow them come hell or high water. Trust me, you're gonna hate what happens if you don't.

🃏 Kenny McCormick: Wildcard, leans Strict He can be such a cool, laid back guy... Except when it comes to you. Kenny might not follow you around town to make sure you're where you said you'll be, but Mysterion sure will. He will be prone to making decisions on your behalf, but it's okay because it's really what's best for you.

🙈 Stan Marsh: Lenient Stan's only rule is that you pay attention to him. He just wants you so bad that he'd let you get away with anything as long as it meant you were still together.

🚫 Kyle Broflovski: Strict Kyle is a possessive guy, this means he wants to keep you under lock and key. Got any friends who are guys? Not for long, if Kyle gets his way. You belong to him and he'll stake his claim on you in any way that he deems necessary.

Final Scores

Eric Cartman: Cruel, Aware, Manipulative, Strict.

Kenny McCormick: Reverent, Aware, Honest, Strict.

Stan Marsh: Reverent, Delusional. Manipulative, Lenient.

Kyle Broflovski: Reverent, Delusional, Manipulative, Strict.

[michaela-o]

Hello guys.❤️

I just wanted to update you on why i'm not really active anywhere, discord, tumblr nowhere, is because i'm going through a very hard and toxic break-up right now..

WARNING: Toxicity, Attempt of se**al a**ult, gaslighting ( if you feel uncomfortable reading about this please don't read )

Sadly, to realize all of this toxicity, took me 2 years because i was too blinded by love and the desire to feel loved, apreciated and i was blinded by trying so hard to see the best in that one person...

Only NOW i realized what everything i let him do to me without me even knowing about it...i was letting him get control over me, i was letting him guilt trip me, i was letting him gaslight me, i was letting him make me feel like my body wasn't even mine, i was letting him make me believe that having emotions is bad, i fucking letting him make me believe that everything THIS was okay..that i deserve to be treated that way...that i deserve to be left alone when i cry too much..

He would always get upset if i told him i was going out with friends through the weekend when i came back from the dorms, he would get upset and leave to go home if i cried for a little longer than he liked, he would get upset when i told him that i would like to change stuff in our releationship, he really had no friends ( which i felt bad for but was not my problem but i was willing to help him out ) to go out with and when i told him i'd like to go for a walk when was pretty outside he'd say he thought we would be together and not wasting time outside..

Even after all this HE told ME that I'M the toxic one..that when i expressed what i think is wrong, when i told him what bothered me about him, he said that i was using my emotions to controll him..

But now i will set my foot down and i will no longer tolerate ANY of this and i will stand on my spot. I told him that if his behaviour continued things won't be looking okay with our releationship. He started to cry and tell me that i'm scaring him, that i know where his weak spots are, that this isn't me, asking me if he's really that bad to deserve those words..he tried to force me to take it back..that we would stay together forever..(god that fucking stings..)

But not anymore..

BIG thank you goes to my dear roommates at dorms and friends Lea, Silvia, Emma, Adrian and another Lea. These are people that have stayed by my side the WHOLE time even if i cried a bit too much. Even when i talked a lot. I owe them so so much. These people have helped me to finally open my eyes and to finally see my own worth...i'm very hurting right now because i really loved him and i know he loved me aswell but he was NOT self aware and was not going to admit and acknowledge his mistakes..and saying sorry for only the sake of peace? And then doing it again?.. it is not my responsibility to explain that to him..i think i was doing that for long enough..

Thank you if you made it all the way down here❤️ and lissening to my story. I apologize for the inactivity but i'm feeling very stressed, scared and lost right now..he wants to meet eith me today but i just don't want to..i need time..this wound is very fresh and bloody and i think it's going to be healing for a long time..

Thank you again❤️

- Michaela-o

(P.S. sorry for the tags)

[ltghosty]

If only you would have trusted me (Simon "Ghost" Riley ﾒ Female "Cobra" Sergeant)

A/N: MW 3 broke me, don't talk to me

Summary: Makarov blackmailed you into joining his army and Task Force 141 thinks you betrayed them without hesitation. Once Ghost and Soap find Milena and you, Ghost finally confronts you about letting him down.

Warnings: curse, angst, guilt, fight, betrayal,

Wordcount: 4.7k

”I thought I was someone whom you could trust because you can be sure as hell that I still trust you with my life. Whether you like it or not."

You knew this moment was coming once Laswell had let you know that Makarov escaped the gulag and was on the move.

You didn’t want it to happen but your job wasn’t famous for making guarantees. Especially with crazy terrorists who wouldn’t stop until the world fell to its knees in front of them.

And Makarov was just like that.

Ruthless, smart, cruel and unpredictable.

While running from location to location, you started to feel getting lost. There were too many dead ends while Makarov was playing with Task Force 141 as he’d wished.

Ghost noticed how much you’d changed since Makarov broke out and wasted no time in getting his hands dirty.

You’d heard stories of him before Price and Soap managed to capture him once 4 years ago which ended in agony and cost a lot of innocent lives. You’d dealt with all kinds of criminals who wanted to build their throne out of corpses but Makarov was by far the worst and most dangerous one.

 With each mission you’d went to with the others, the less your voice could be heard. You were silent and kept checking every corner while wondering how could you finally make a step forward.

There were times when you were seated with Ghost and his favorite sniper to watch the others’ back, and while laying on the ground for hours, the lieutenant tried to get you to talk but you weren’t too bulged.

You hadn’t noticed because you were too focused on your task but Ghost always kept an eye on you when you were in his sight. He’d seen this kind of dedication before, so he understood where your change of heart had come from but he didn’t want you to completely forget who you truly were before.

He’d hated to admit but he would have done anything to bring you back to the surface. It’s been too long since he had heard your laugh or seen your beautiful smile. Hell, he even started to miss those moments when you’d happily join Soap and push his buttons while making fun of Brits.

Ghost couldn’t stand your silence, he liked listening to your voice even while you were only making small chats with him through the coms.

What Ghost had never expected – or anyone else for that matter – was you suddenly disappearing without a word and hearing from a source that you’ve been seen on Makarov’s side.

At first, he was confused and kept denying it but when Price told him that it wasn’t some sort of plan for you to get involved with the Russians, Ghost felt like someone punched him in the chest.

You’d left willingly without a word, and the next thing he knew, you were working under the hands of the enemy.

He was overwhelmed with your betrayal, he was sad, furious, and desperate to find an explanation for your treachery.

What Ghost and the others didn’t know was that Makarov had his eye on you since he escaped from the gulag. Firmly, because you knew Milena from before, and she knew that you were an unstoppable sergeant.

Makarov wanted to break Task Force 141 from the inside before he would grab a gun to put a bullet into everyone’s head, so he ordered his men to do their research on you.

It didn’t take them too long to find your family, even though you tried your best over the years to make it seem like you didn’t have them. You’d never once talked to anyone about your sister and mother who always waited for you to go home, who were always worried about you whenever you departed and had been gone for months while fighting terrorists.

For the first time in your life you didn’t know what to do, you wanted to tell Price and the others that Makarov had captured your family and gave you no choice but the Russian’s intentions were crystal clear. If you’d told anyone about this, he’d kill your family and would blame it all on Task Force 141.

You even thought about telling Ghost that Makarov had found you and backed you in the corner but you knew if the lieutenant would have found out about any of this, he’d never let you go.

Ever since you joined Makarov, the guilt has been eating you from inside, especially whenever your friends’ name was thrown around as Makarov was planning his next move.

Makarov has been calling you ’Rynda’ ever since you gave yourself up to him which you absolutely despised. Since you were his only living connection to Task Force 141, he’d given you the task of always letting him know what the special forces’s next move might be.

”Like the bell ringing when danger is around the corner,” Makarov had said back then with a wicked smile on his lips. ”I don’t want you to disappoint me, Rynda.”

”I won’t.”

Your words might have caused satisfaction in the man but your tongue was burning with the forced promise you’d had to make to him. Your skin was crawling each time he touched you and his voice crept through your ears like venom.

You hated being Milena’s present. Makarov didn’t want any women on the battlefield but he admired your strength and skills, so he ordered you to always stick to Milena and watch her back. Without his financial support, he would have had some problems getting into this whole capture-or-kill scenario.

Milena always made a sound of her whines about how she hated that you were practically babysitting her. Don’t worry, I hate it too, you’d thought.

Whenever you were alone you missed the guys, missed Price being a father figure to you, missed Gaz making fun of your looks after a horribly executed plan, missed Soap teaching you Scottish, and missed Ghost for… for being himself and keeping you under his wing.

”I admire your dedication, really,” Milena called from the other side of the room.

”Do you?”

Milena glanced up from her papers and searched your face.

”Yes, I’m surprised you betrayed your people right away and did everything Vladimir ordered you to.”

”He didn’t give me much of a choice, did he?” you asked and crossed your arms. You hated that she was able to think that you betrayed your second family easily while in reality, it was wearing you down in every way possible.

You were sure you’d never be able to look into their eyes if you saw them again.

”He knows how to win people over.”

You cleared your throat and narrowed your eyes.

”Or to force them to do something that would benefit him.”

Milena was one delusional woman, you were sure of that. You hated how spineless she was and how easily she could get under your skin within seconds.

If Makarov wasn’t so intimidating then you would have already punched her whenever she said a bad word to you. You would have enjoyed it for sure.

Gunshots and shouting emerged from the other side of the building which made you tense right away.

”What the hell?” Milena asked as she stood up and walked to the wall where the security cameras were shown.

You took a few steps, examining the figures that appeared, and felt the color drain from your face.

You wished you would have mistook them for someone else but after serving with them for years, there was no way you wouldn’t recognize them.

It was Soap and Ghost.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and your stomach turned when you saw Soap getting closer and closer to the door that stood behind you.

With trembling hands, you grabbed your gun and spun on your heel just when the Scots opened the door.

”Special forces, show your hands!”

Raising your guns at the same time, you faced your best friend whose eyes softened the second they found you.

”Cobra…”

It’s been so long since anyone called you that, you almost dropped your gun.

Then you forced yourself to remember your family whose life was on you and how you act now, so you tightened your grip on the cold metal.

”I’d advise you to turn around and leave, Soap.”

Soap lowered his gun while his face dropped in sadness. Your voice was cold and distant, something you’d never used toward him before. You’d only given this treatment to your enemies.

”That’s not going to happen, you know it.”

”I’ll shoot you,” you said, trying to hide your nervousness as he kept your stare.

”You won’t.”

Gritting your teeth, you took a step forward, keeping the gun at him as Milena looked at you in fury.

”What are you waiting for? Shoot him for fuck’s sake!”

No matter how hard you tried, your finger couldn’t touch the trigger. Your heart didn’t let that happen.

Memories flooded and invaded your mind as you looked at John MacTavish who was your favorite partner in crime. Moments of him making you laugh and calming you down after losing a battle made your hands shake in defeat.

You didn’t want to do any of this but you had no choice.

When Soap realized you were not going to shoot him, he let out a small sigh, grabbed one of the chairs, and pushed it forward, his eyes finding Milena.

”Sit.”

You didn’t want to admit but you missed the way Soap could talk coldly to those who were on the other side.

”Fuck you.” Milena spat in hatred.

Soap kept his gaze and gun firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

”Sit down, Milena.”

Milena gave you a deadly glare before dropping her hands and taking a seat. You couldn’t say a word, it seemed like your voice ceased to exist.

”Where is your boss?” Soap asked sharply.

”I don’t have a boss. No one tells me what to do.” Milena said and you almost scoffed. Only if her words were true.

Soap glared at her for a while before turning around when heavy footsteps broke the silence. You lowered your hands, sweat appearing on your skin as you noticed a familiar tall figure moving in the shadows.

Soap turned around when Ghost walked through the door with a laptop in his hand.

”She’s not talking.”

As Ghost’s familiar dark eyes met yours, he stopped walking and you felt your heart skip a beat. Just like every other time he’d looked at you, you felt exposed and small.

Ghost’s eyes never left you as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes held many emotions, such as surprise, melancholy, and distance.

You hated the way he was looking at you like you were someone else. Like you weren’t someone who was close to him like you weren’t the sergeant who was never afraid to be honest and open with him.

Before you could realize that there was nowhere to run from him, he blinked and walked over to the table.

”She’s about to,” he grunted and put the laptop down on the table, and walked to the other side of the room.

Not wanting to look into his eyes again, you focused on Soap who opened the white laptop and extended his hand to Milena who was sitting still like a rock.

”Give me your hand.”

”Why? Or else you’ll cut it off?” Milena asked.

”Your friend over there knows that it’s true when I say to you that it’s not my style,” Soap said glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. Then tilted his head in Ghost’s direction. ”He might.”

Milena seemed to lose her patience with each second that passed by.

”Why the mask?” she snapped.

You almost rolled your eyes at the question you seemed to hear a million times.

”To hide my face.” Ghost answered with cold eyes.

You were surprised he answered even though it was an obvious and useless response.

You felt Ghost’s eyes finding you again, making your skin burn as you dropped your gaze. You were intimidated by his presence and not because you were afraid of him but because you knew for sure that you hurt his feelings when you left.

You wished you weren’t here to live through this unwanted confrontation. A part of you was happy to see them but your heart was aching by the disappointed and hurtful looks you received from them.

”Cobra.” Ghost called after you as you turned your head away. His voice reached your bones immediately and you hated how much you missed your callsign falling off his lips.

”Don’t call me that,” you said dryly, turning back to him.

Ghost gave you a challenging look as he pushed himself away from the wall and closed the distance between you two. With each step he took, you felt your chest tighten with anticipation and guilt. You wanted to look somewhere else but he firmly held your gaze.

He always did and that hasn’t changed.

”How about we give these two birds a few minutes to find a way to cooperate with each other?” Ghost asked and you felt your eyes widen.

”I’m not leaving Milena.”

Ghost gave you a meaningful look and took the gun from your hand with such ease that wasn’t surprising to either of you.

”Yes, you are.”

Remembering that you weren’t supposed to leave Milena’s sight for even a second, you felt panic and annoyance wash over you.

”You can’t just order me around. Not anymore.” You said in a cold tone that made Ghost shift in his place.

Without saying a word, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you with him as he made his way to the other door that led to another empty room.

”Hey! Get your fucking hand off of me!” You shouted in frustration and tried to free yourself from his grasp but Ghost easily dragged you with him through the door and kicked it shut with his foot.

You let out a desperate groan as you grabbed his wrist, trying to pry it off of your arm which seemed tiny compared to his.

You bit into your lower lip as you tried your best to move his fingers but he wasn’t moving an inch.

”Cobra…” his voice was calmer and more thoughtful now that you were alone with him.

You didn’t look at him, only let out a defeated sigh and stopped fighting, your skin slightly aching.

”This hurts.”

Ghost glanced down at his hand still holding onto you and let go of you the second you’d admitted your physical pain. Hurting you was something he never intended to do.

Hissing, you brought your arm to your chest and touched it with your other hand, and turned away from him. You didn’t trust yourself when he was alone with you.

”What are you doing, Cobra?” Ghost asked from behind you and you closed your eyes. Hearing confusion and disappointment hiding in his voice made you feel guiltier than before.

”That’s none of your concern anymore, Ghost.” You replied still facing the wall.

Taking deep breaths you tried your best to collect your thoughts as you heard him walk closer to you, dropping your gun to the table standing next to you.

”It is.”

His voice circled around you like clouds darkening the sky before the storm.

”Why did you leave?”

You pressed your lips against each other and turned around. You got used to his menacing presence coming firstly from his height. You felt small and weak because you knew he could see right through you.

”People change, Lieutenant. You better get used to it.”

”People change that’s for sure. But don’t betray and stab others in the back just like that. A decision like this never comes from a single thought.”

You hated how much he tried to get into your mind, still trying to find answers to his questions that have probably been burning in him since the day you left.

”I refuse to believe that after everything that happened, you’d willingly just switch sides, I know you. And I know how much you despise traitors,” his eyes never left you as he was speaking.

You didn’t say a word, not when you were on the edge of breaking down.

”Talk to me, Cobra.” Ghost said, his voice quiet.

”I can’t,” you shook your head. ”Why don’t you just do your job and get out of here?”

”I’m not leaving until you say something to me.”

”There is nothing for me to say, especially to you.”

Ghost felt his chest tighten at your coldness. He would have never expected you to speak to him this way. Not after how long it took for you two to finally let your guard down around each other.

”Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

”I do, Ghost. Believe it or not, I’m not part of the special forces anymore, so either shoot me or get out of my face.”

”You really think I’d hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and sad.

”You eliminate targets and now I’m one too,” you crossed your arms, trying to look confident.

”I know why you’re pushing me,” he narrowed his eyes. ”And I know for sure that you didn’t betray us because you felt like you could. I know there is something behind all of this that you refuse to tell me.”

You didn’t answer and that was more than enough for him to confirm his theory about you.

”What happened, Cobra?”

”I left and now I’m one of Makarov’s people, that’s what happened!”

You were desperate to try to get him out of here because your heart was breaking with each word that was exchanged between you two.

”No, don’t even say that. I know who you are.”

”You don’t, Simon. Just get over it and let me go,” you snapped and his gaze dropped for a brief second. You didn’t even realize at first that you called him by his real name until you saw the change in his eyes.

It seemed like your words had made a final straw in Simon’s heart. You hated yourself for talking to him like that and you wished you could go back to them, to him, and forget about this nightmare you’d fallen into.

”I thought I was someone whom you could trust because you can be sure as hell that I still trust you with my life. Whether you like it or not."

His words made more impact on you than they should have. They meant the world to you and knowing that even after turning your back on him, he still trusted you and wanted you to go back.

”I trusted you.”

Trusted you. Past tense which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

”You didn’t if you could leave me like I was nothing to you.” Ghost confronted you with raw honesty, not even hiding the fact of how much your decision had pained him.

”It wasn’t easy,” you admitted, hugging your stomach and your eyes filling with unwanted tears. You hated if someone saw the vulnerable side of you, you hated being vulnerable but around Ghost, you knew he wouldn’t use your pain against you. Never.

Ghost stepped closer to you, making it impossible to look at anything else but him. When he heard your voice tremble and saw your eyes become glossy, he knew he meant something to you after all.

Lifting his hand, he put his index finger under your jaw and made you look at him. His eyes mirrored his emotions as he watched you slowly letting go of the invisible mask you’d hidden behind.

”You don’t need to keep anything from me, Cobra. Have I ever broken your trust and let you down?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as a lonely tear escaped and rolled down on your hot skin.

When you slowly shook your head, he dipped his to your level.

”Then tell me. Please.”

Swallowing your doubts, you took a shaky breath, his hand still on you.

”He’ll kill me.”

”I won’t let that happen,” Ghost promised it without a second thought.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, almost jumping down. You hated to keep secrets from anyone, especially from Simon who had proven himself worthy of your trust more than once.

”Cobra, I can’t help if you don’t let me,” he continued with sad eyes and wiped your face.

It surprised you how a tall giant like him who had a name for his ruthless methods and interrogation scenes, could act so soft and careful with you.

It was hard to believe that the hand that was confronting you and wiping away your tears had killed so many people before.

With your lower lip quivering, you felt your fear taking over you, making your knees shake. Ghost watched you with worried eyes as you let out a sob you couldn’t hold back anymore and jumped into his arms, hiding your face into his neck.

As you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, you felt the heat coming off of his body, his tenseness slowly fading away once he’d realized what you were doing.

Ghost embraced your hug, his big arms wrapping around you like a shield, silently promising to keep you safe. He felt your scent filling his nose and his heart slowing down as your bodies pressed against each other’s.

”He has my family, Simon. He’ll kill them if I don’t obey his orders,” you sobbed in pure panic, your small hands holding onto him.

Ghost exhaled and tightened his grip around you, his head dropping onto yours with ease.

”Shh… I’m here,” he scooted you as you let your tears fall onto his gear.

”I couldn’t tell anyone and he made me swear to leave you or else…”

Ghost didn’t say it was okay or that it would be all right. Because he wasn’t sure if he could keep his promise if he’d told you something you wanted to hear at the moment.

So, he just kept you in his arms and rubbed your back while his heart came to peace now that he knew the real reason why you left them.

”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

”Hey, hey…” Ghost pulled you away slightly so that he could look into your eyes.

When you glanced up at him, his eyes didn’t make you feel anxious like a few minutes ago, they made you realize you weren’t alone and that he wasn’t blaming you for anything.

”Don’t be sorry, family comes first.” Ghost answered. ”You did what you have to, I understand.”

”But you’re also my family,” you whispered in a defeated tone and his eyes softened.

”It’s okay, Cobra. I’m not mad, I could never be mad at you,” he admitted and pulled you into his chest, his hand caressing your hair.

You sniffed and hid your face in his chest, wishing you could wake up from this nightmare.

But unfortunately, you were awake. You have been this whole time and there was no turning back from now.

”I wish you would have told me without running away,” he said quietly. ”I understand why you did it, I just wish you would have told me.”

”I wanted to,” you admitted, your voice small and vulnerable.

”Why didn’t you then?” he asked, still holding you against his chest.

You sighed and wiped your flushed face, your other hand still around his waist.

”I was afraid you wouldn’t have let me leave.”

”You’re fucking right I wouldn’t have let you do that,” he agreed immediately, causing you to giggle.

Ghost felt warmness fill his chest at your almost laugh, making it easier for him to breathe now that you were in his arms and let yourself smile.

He missed you, a lot.

”I trust you, Simon. You know, I do.”

He hummed as he let his fingertips dance on your skin a little.

”It was hard to believe otherwise when I woke up to you missing one day.”

The familiar feeling of guilt made your expression drop and your brows furrow. You really wished things would have been different.

You hated yourself for making Ghost feel like he didn’t mean anything to you. You hated yourself for making him almost lose his faith in you.

”I’d tell you that you’re coming back with us but something tells me you won’t.”

You stepped away from him, letting go of his torso with defeated eyes.

”He’ll kill them, I can’t go with you,” you said sadly. You’d never felt so lost and desperate before and Simon could see that in your eyes.

”So, what…” his voice trailed off. ”You’re just going to stay by his side and do whatever the fuck he wants you to?”

”It’s not like I want to work for him, Simon. But I have no choice.”

”We’ll figure something out,” he replied.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair in frustration.

”You can’t, you know it.”

Ghost shook his head. ”No, there has to be a way… We have to do something before he kills you.”

”I appreciate your concern but there’s nothing you can do for me,” you whispered in a hoarse voice.

Ghost stared at you while hundreds of thoughts had run through his mind, wondering if there was a way he could help you. Hoping he could say or do something that would make you feel better.

”I have to do something… I can’t lose you again, I won’t.”

His words made your heart almost jump out of your chest while he massaged the back of his neck. You felt physically weak at the plea of his voice while he was trying to find a solution.

But there was none.

Not when Makarov had his chains on you like on a dog.

”I’ll be fine, just go.”

Ghost looked at you with hesitation.

”I can’t, Cobra. What if I won’t see you again?”

Wiping your eyes, you took a shaky breath. Him trying to get you out of this just made the whole situation more unbearable.

”We knew what we were signing up for when we joined the special forces, Lt.”

Ghost felt his heart starting to ache in sadness as he took your defeated and exhausted sight in. You weren’t the woman who once made a race with him about getting more kills on a mission or not.

You were only a shadow of yourself and he hated to see you this way.

He would have done anything to be able to take you back with him to the base and never let you go.

It terrified him how lost he’d felt when you left the team, he could still remember how he’d stare at the ceiling of his room, wondering if he’d ever see you again.

”Don’t talk like that, Cobra.” Ghost scolded you. ”Now is not the time.”

”You know I might end up getting killed after all.”

”Don’t.” Ghost said in a stern voice, his body tensing at your words. ”Nobody is dying. Not on my watch and I’m going to keep my word.”

It made you feel better to know that Ghost didn’t hold anything against you. Your soul found peace now that he knew the why behind your decisions and betrayal. It killed you that you couldn’t go home with him and Soap.

Ghost stepped closer to you and waited for you to look into his dark eyes that led you directly to his soul.

”I’m going to get you out of this, Cobra. I promise. I’m not leaving anyone behind, especially you.”

His promise made you forget the danger that was around the corner and just for a brief second you were happy to let yourself believe what Ghost was saying.

”You better not to, lieutenant.”

Ghost huffed and touched the side of your face, his thumb softly caressing your skin. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch and forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Simon Riley was famous for a lot of things and keeping his promise was one of them. That was the only thing that helped you come to peace with the things you were forced to do in order to protect your family.

[strangerscallmegray]

Are we the same?

Hello guys, I hope you like this. I was out looking for Joel Miller x son!reader fics and I could find very little male reader or GN reader fics and so I impulsively decided to create this series. I hope you will like it. The first chapter is going to be exploring Joel's PoV. I'm new here so I don't understand much, hopefully I'll learn along with you.

So, the thing is I have not seen the last of us, it is just recently that I discovered the fanfics and I really liked them, I'm going to watch it soon. So, I apologize for any timeline discrepancy as well as factual errors that might be there in the story lolol.

------- x --------

Joel had a difficult relationship with his son. It was not that Joel did not love him, no, he did, he immensely loved the kid, how could he not? He was his son. You were the last remaining person from his family. The life and family he had had before everything went to shit. But there was a distance between you and Joel, one that Joel deeply lamented. It started after Sarah died. Joel felt like you blamed him for what had happened. You had always been a loving older brother to Sarah and losing her broke you too, you were never quite the same and he couldn’t say he was either.

Joel watched as you went outside the house after the latest argument you had had. Arguments were not uncommon between the two of you. It was simple, Joel still felt you were too young to be going on patrols with him. Whereas you felt you had never been more ready and to see Tess take your side had been heartbreaking for Joel. Tess would not forget the look of betrayal that had etched onto his face when she had done that. Tess had later given him a lecture saying if he wanted his son then he’d have to let him do what he wants to do even if that included danger. Joel had cried out in anger then saying that he’d rather have his son alive and hate him than dead. He and Tess had needed a lot of time to recover from that. He had already lost one child and he was not planning to lose another any time soon. Now, since Joel did not have a say in what you wanted to do, he put his everything into training you. He wanted to teach you everything he knew so that you could survive even if he is not there. He was very proud of you and how far you had come. You never complained when it came to training, even if you had arguments with your dad, sparring sessions were a must, even if it just helped in releasing pent-up frustration.

Joel was sometimes very harsh with you and he knows that. It was because maybe he got so lost when he lost Sarah that he forgot he had another person depending on him. Some days the guilt consumes him and the others he feels like you need the rigidity to make yourself better, that it is what you seek from him. Tess had told him many times that his harshness might reflect negatively on you since you were only 16. Sometimes he thought that surely Sasha must be rolling in the grave over what kind of a father he had become. A memory flashed through this head.

“This is a waste of time, they’ll have finished turning you by the time you get back up from the ground.” He said.

You were panting having fallen on the ground. “I am…..trying.” you said in between of breaths.

“Not like that you are not, the only thing you are trying to do right now is getting yourself killed, if that was your mission, congratulations, you succeeded.”

You had glared at him, still not getting up, “What the hell is your damn problem with me!?” you had shouted and stood up walking up to your dad. “You can see I’m trying, we only started practicing a week back and Tess says I’m doing good, why do you always have to be so critical of me as if I can never be any good?”

“I don’t know what Tess has been seeing, all I am seeing is that it was a mistake allowing a 14-year-old out on patrols.” Joel had said. He couldn’t understand why he was being so unnecessarily harsh.

Tears stung your eyes as you said, “I will prove you wrong Dad, I will be the best hunter you’ve ever seen.” You had said and walked away.

And you were most definitely the best that Joel had seen, he just failed to communicate it to you. He wished he had been more understanding back then.

Then, then came Ellie, the kid who reminded him too much of Sarah, the kid full of life and so opposite from both him and you. In the beginning he didn’t know how to act around her but slowly he warmed up to her. She was not replacing Sarah, nobody could replace his Sarah ever but Ellie was not Sarah, Ellie was Ellie and that was why he had grown to care for her and he knew he had grown paternal towards her. He had seen the way you interacted with Ellie too, you had never held something she didn’t even know against her. You had even taught her a couple of things and his heart swelled with happiness whenever he saw that. An emotion he was sure he would never feel again.

“Is he your son?” She had asked pointing towards you who was standing with the group explaining something to them.

“Yes.” He had said, short and crisp, he didn’t want to discuss it and he hoped she’d get the hint. She did not.

“Then why is he on patrols? He doesn’t seem that much older.” She looked curiously.

He had looked at her and glared “Why don’t you ask him the same then maybe even I will know.”

And after that, it felt the most normal than ever in Jackson, but he just wished he could mend his relationship with his son. He wished you would stop looking at everything he did for you in negative light and stop seeing him as the enemy.

Soo, I hope you liked that, let me know what you think. The next chapter will be your PoV.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Jasey Rae

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warnings: pure angst, nothing about this is fluffy

Lights out

I still hear the rain

These images have filled my head

Now keep my fingers from making mistakes

Tell my voice what it takes to speak up, speak up

And keep my conscious clean when I wake

Your relationship with Mattheo had almost always been kinda rocky. You had amazing days, and you had some pretty bad days. There were a lot of nasty fights, lots of yelling and name calling and insults. It wasn’t pretty. And each time Mattheo felt insanely guilty about it. He hated hurting you, he hated fighting with you. Especially when he knew he was the main cause of all the fights. 

And he’d eventually go back to you and apologize, and you could see the guilt on his face.

Don't make this easy

I want you to mean it, Jasey

(Say you mean it)

You're dressed to kill

I'm calling you out

(Don't waste your time on me)

He doesn’t want you to just accept his apology, though. He didn’t want you just to lie there and take all of his words like a kid getting scolded. He didn’t want you to just say “it’s okay.” after his apologies and hug him. Well, he did. But, his heart hurt every time you would just accept what happened and accept the apology and go back to normal.

Now there's an aching in my back

A sudden pain that says I lack

The common sense and confidence

To bring her hands to promises

That I'm making time for desperate conversation

Holding my knife could be better than this in the end

(Just say when)

He knew he was no good for you. He knew he caused too many arguments, he hurt you too much, he made you cry too much, he made you way too mad too much. Too much of it all. He felt like he hurt you more than he made you laugh or smile. He knew he should end it. He knew you wouldn’t. You didn’t want to give up on you and him. You held onto the good times too much. You held onto the small moments where everything felt perfect.

Don't make this easy

I want you to mean it, Jasey

(Say you mean it)

You're dressed to kill

I'm calling you out

(Don't waste your time on me)

He wanted you to yell and cry and curse him out, anything but accept his apology and forget the fight. He wanted you to be pissed and call him out for every little thing, tell him he’s being an asshole, tell him you deserve better. He hated hurting you and you just accepting it. He hated it, he hated the guilt and shame that came with it. He hated how his heart broke every time he had to comfort you because of his own stupid mistakes that hurt you. Why couldn’t you just call him out and end it with him?

I've never told a lie, and that makes me a liar

I've never made a bet, but we gamble with desire

I've never lit a match with intent to start a fire

But recently the flames are getting out of control

There’s times he forgets the guilt of hurting you. Like he forgets everything he did and just focuses on the moment with you when you are having a good time together. Like the beginning of your relationship where he would innocently flirt with you, not really expecting anything out of it. But you two just clicked. You had so much in common and he made you laugh and smile super easily and you would do the same for him. It all felt perfect for a little bit. Before the fights.

Call me a name, kill me with words

Forget about me, it's what I deserve

I was your chance to get out of this town

But I ditched the car and left you to

Wait outside

I hope the air will serve to remind you

That my heart is as cold as the clouds of your breath

And my words are as timed as the beating in my chest

He needed you to actually acknowledge how bad he was for you. He needed you to get pissed at him and leave him for good. He did it when you were laying in your bed, talking about the future and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he could never be in your future.

So he blew up like normal. He started an argument, telling you he didn’t want to be in your future, he didn’t love you, he didn’t want to get married and settle down. Not with you. Of course, you were angry and yelled back. In his rage, he ripped up a picture you had of the two of you and tossed the pieces onto the bed and stormed out. The guilt kept eating at him, but he was hoping you got the picture of how horrible he was for you. He hoped you wouldn’t come back for him. He hoped you would get mad and yell and curse at him the next time you saw him, if you ever did see him again.

He could take the rage from you. But he couldn’t take the guilt of hurting you anymore.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

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@hereticdance @lxserriddle @cindyss @saint-marvel @atadoddinnit

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@strxwberri-s @nickirae @esmerai-artemis

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[ladyluscinia]

Izzy, Bottles, and Apologies

Izzy's arc in S2 has been a wild ride.

The S1 Izzy enjoyers are feeling vindicated as hell, many people are fully revising their opinion of him, and the people still hating him have a new criticism or off the wall theory daily. David Jenkins LOVES Izzy and is having the time of his life trying to make sure everyone else does too. They had Con O'Neill sing in drag!

And naturally I have thoughts.

This is gonna be a two part post, I think. First, as much as people are celebrating Izzy having realized his arc and come into his own - from the singing to the apparent BlackBonnet shipping - there are some threads they could pull on that might reveal more arc to come. And I am really hoping they pull them, so I'm gonna tell you why you should too!

And second, I have some minor points I dislike and concerns that this might be the end of the arc. Which would be disappointing but I think I get why, so I'm gonna discuss that too.

To start...

---

"How are you handling all this so well?"

Here's the thing about S2 Izzy - while I need to be clear his behavior is not OOC or inconsistent with S1, it is happening rather fast. I'm pretty sure that has a lot to do with out of universe reasons I'll get into later, but in-universe it stands out. Now, he's hardly the only one operating on an accelerated schedule - the timeline for this season is an insanely fast not-even-two-weeks - but Izzy's defining struggle in S1 was fear of change. That was the cause of his friction with Edward, and what made him an antagonist in the first place.

In S2 he's gone through a lot of trauma, yes, but that fear is noticeably less present than I would expect.

Izzy in 2x06 has been cleaned up from his sobbing mess phase for just over 48 hours and he faces Edward with a joke, and then that night sings a moving French serenade to the crew. The next morning he's teasing them about finally hooking up and spends the day offering both Stede and Edward relationship advice.

He's a newly realized man... shedding repression and embracing who he could be. Accepting his breakup with Edward and trying to openly support the relationship that's better for him.

It's fun!

It's also, potentially, a bit of a flag. Maybe not a red one, not yet, but... pink-ish? A bit orange?

Let's look a little closer at those frayed edges.

---

"Well, you see, I have a system..."

There's an exchange from right at the start of the Pilot episode that has echoed through the entire series so far:

"Bottle it up?" -> "No, Frenchie! No, that's the worst thing you could do!"

Not talking to other people, not addressing your traumas... that's the kind of shit that just builds and builds inside you. When the cork eventually pops, the resulting damage can be a lot. Look at the finale of S1, where all of Stede's bottled up guilt and insecurities laid waste to his relationship with Edward, and then inadvertently became the first domino in the Kraken.

S2 is quick to bring this scene back into the forefront. The first time we see the Breakup Boat crew talking in 2x01, Frenchie reveals that "Bottle it up?" wasn't just a random comment he made, but a philosophy of his:

"Ah - well, you see, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box, in my mind, and I put the things in the box, I lock the box, and then I don't open it again. Works like a charm."

Apparently, Frenchie is the only one it actually seems to be working for.

Now, the show has been drawing some interesting lines between Frenchie and Izzy. From both serving as Blackbeard's First Mate to being frequently shown as a duo - tormenting Navy guys together on Sunday's raid, Frenchie holding Izzy's hand, Frenchie leaning on Izzy's leg in the cell, Frenchie behind him raising the flag in 2x05 - it's fitting that Izzy echoes Frenchie's preferred coping method. First he frames the non-acknowledgement of harm from Edward as just... part of piracy. He's a pirate, so he's fine with it.

And then we get Izzy's little whittled shark reveal and the conversation with Lucius about his leg:

"I don't know what you're talking about. Shark did this... dangling my legs over the side of the ship. Served me right, too."

Lucius calls him out on the unhealthy behavior, and Izzy concedes his point:

"O-kay, that seems healthy. Using a bit of fiction to help cover up your trauma." -> "Yeah, well... not moving on is worse. Twatty."

And to give him credit, he's right in his advice to Lucius. Filling his sketchbook with pages and pages of Blackbeard trauma is Lucius's form of bottling it up - thinking in endless recursive circles about his tumble off the ship and everything that followed. We already know chasing revenge instead of living is bad - Jim and Spanish Jackie established it last season, and Pete just echoed them. When Izzy advises Lucius to move on, that's what Lucius does.

But what Izzy is doing with the shark? That's not the same thing at all. He's lost a leg, grazed a bullet off his own head, and was snarling drunken accusations at himself in the mirror... he's not moving on from that. He's bottling it up with a nice dose of self-blame.

Cutting the legs off the unicorn for not doing it's job right and saying "served me right" about his fictional shark? There's a real dark knot of emotions there.

(Recall, too, that Edward deflected his hurt from Stede's abandonment into a "fictional character" during his chats with Lucius, and that delayed the explosion but couldn't stop it.)

So... Izzy's definitely coping with trauma in a way the show does not advise and often circles back to. Can we see any signs in 2x06 and 2x07?

---

The Weight of Things Unsaid

At the very start of 2x06, Izzy gets the thing he spent all of 2x05 mentally bracing himself to never hear - an apology from Edward for his leg. He walks up to initiate conversation and begins talking like nothing has changed. Edward is back in his leathers. Appropriate, given that his penance onesie was nothing genuine, just "how long do I have to wear this fucking thing for?" And Izzy is ready for them not to address the obvious hurt, to just smooth over a few jabs and go back to normal... but even Edward's mumbled little "Sorry about your leg" is so significant and difficult he flees as soon as he gets it out, leaving Izzy to sit, incredulous, with the acknowledgement.

It's still almost definitely not enough.

There was so much between them in 2x01 - 2x03. The writers literally did BlackHands love confessions on both sides. An apology from Edward Teach - a man who historically does not apologize - is a huge first step but still only the first step. The real things unsaid are so much bigger than a leg.

We get something else, too... Edward commenting on Izzy's drinking.

"Jesus. Really putting that away, aren't ya?"

Izzy has had booze a lot this season. He lost a leg and pain meds aren't really an option, so not surprising, but notable. Edward, advocating for substance abuse to deal with bad feelings, calls him a lightweight in 2x01. When they are found with the dead seabird in 2x03, Izzy takes a pointed drink from his bottle, and then 2x04 he spends the entire episode completely plastered. He seemingly sobered up for 2x05 - probably to focus on sword training and his whittling project - but now the bottle is back again before Izzy disappears for several hours.

And a little liquid courage might explain his going all in for the Calypso's Birthday performance.

I do appreciate that the performance on it's face is something completely unexpected for Izzy, but when thinking about it... it does make sense.

We already know music and performance were available on Blackbeard's ship even before Stede. Edward learned to play shanties on the piano somewhere, and singing is a common and encouraged part of sailing culture. Izzy's choice of song to perform is something a lot more emotional, but this is probably not his first performance for a crew.

Makeup, too, is in fashion for men and women at this time, and OFMD has shown it as such before. Izzy has never worn fashion makeup, or tried to be beautiful, but the concept wouldn't be alien to him. Wee John's description of a dramatic party look might even have intrigued him specifically because Izzy has actually done "looks" before - of the terrifying "theatre of fear" kind. The Kraken did have his whole crew in makeup for their raids. Taking the opportunity to embody something a bit more vulnerable and try to bring joy to this crew that took care of him is meaningful as fuck.

And it's still a drag performance!

It's a good pair of moments - before and after Ned. Proof that all this isn't just coping method - that's not what I'm arguing here - and even if Izzy's still bottling up a lot of feelings he's not doing the same full pressure bomb thing as he did in S1. There's been growth!

(This is why the flags are only pink-ish / orange-ish right now.)

Episode 2x07 though... I'm not so sure he's doing good as much as pretending it's all good.

Showing up to make his joke in the morning is a fun moment. I especially enjoy Edward's little "fuck off" with no bite to it 🤣🤣🤣 Reminder they do live together on a ship, so this is likely not even close to the first morning-after that Izzy has gotten front row seats to. But, at least to me, there's also a very performative feeling about it. Izzy being very Look how normal I can be about you fucking your boyfriend, Ed - and Edward picks up on it too. That's why he turns to Stede and whispers "He's jealous" as Izzy walks away.

Izzy continues to make jokes and give advice through the day to our main couple, but he's... subdued. I think his fake chill also disguises that he and Edward aren't on the same page about what they discuss at the docks, hence his poor advice to "listen to it" when the "it" in question is Edward's immediate desire to run away from Stede and become a fisherman. They are talking again, but haven't resumed communicating.

I also think it's relevant that Izzy goes to try and support Stede after Edward dumps him, because we're still waiting for Stede to stop bottling things up. He doesn't talk about Badminton or feelings of inadequacy or even the babiest little olive branch to Edward about "hey my dad kinda sucked too." Edward's two exes are sitting in the bar corner together, thinking about all the shit they won't talk to him about until it kills all three of them. Exciting!

The pressure is building. It has to circle back to Stede in S3. I'm hoping at the same time, it circles back to Izzy, too.

Hoping we get to explore some of his anxiety, and his internalizing negative self-image and blame. At the moment, I think Izzy might have less gotten over his anxieties and more just let go of the wheel of his life entirely, and fortunately had people around to steer him in okay directions. It would be really interesting to explore that more.

(Even if I have some concerns they may not.)

---

Subtle as a Cannonball to the Face

Izzy's character arc was always going to be a long journey - not because he was somehow morally worse than everyone else, or required particularly painstaking growth, or even because there was going to be some great need to "hold him accountable" for S1. No, it was going to be a long journey from an antagonist start for the same reason I mentioned earlier: Izzy's core struggle is fear of change.

OFMD opens with two protagonists recklessly pursuing change in ways that harm themselves, their relationships, and others, and a primary onscreen antagonist resisting change in a way that harms himself, his relationships, and others. There's no easy morality here - they all fuck up. And they all require the entire show to actually figure out the correct balance of change and growth and facing the past.

"I think the three of them are on an arc together that's pretty inseparable." - David Jenkins (Source, 9 Oct 2023)

So... why is there a chance that everything I've mentioned above is going absolutely nowhere and Izzy's arc has been wrapped up with a bow in S2?

Well.

It's late March 2022, the fandom's age is still only countable in weeks, I personally haven't even watched the pilot yet, had only even heard of the show 3 days before... and one of David Jenkins first post-finale statements is telling people to pay attention to Izzy's POV and his and Edward's love story on rewatches (Source, 25 Mar 2022), and then soon after comparing Stede to a homewrecker in Edward and Izzy's toxic marriage (Source, 15 Apr 2022). Lots of links because this stuff was available to the fandom from the start.

By the first half of May 2022 (while poor Mr. Jenkins is still anxiously trying to get his series renewed for S2, since the confirmation won't come until June 1) the takes on Izzy have soured a lot. It's not a "homophobic gay" joke anymore. Now it's "Izzy is the embodiment of colonialism who enforces a racist and homophobic ideal of Blackbeard on Edward" and "pretending Izzy could be canonically gay is homophobic" and "Izzy bought Edward as a slave from the British". Harassing anons have already started on tumblr. No first hand experience with Twitter but I've heard horror stories. These takes are spreading like wildfire through the fandom, with a heavy backing of white fans accepting and spreading anything that sounds vaguely racially-conscious as something they just missed in their privilege and need to listen to POC about. Or listen to other white fans that say they've been listening to POC.

The anchor hoist in 1x09 (that was a complete directing coincidence, as the crew confirmed in late May) is being taken as incontrovertible proof that Izzy is a violent racist, and the relatively small Izzy fandom pushing back against any of these reads is being likened to toxic fangirls declaring Kylo Ren a poor widdle victim because they think violent white guys are so hot their brains fall out. This is happening loudly and in the public forums of social media.

Can you imagine being David Jenkins right then?

This is one of your favorite little guys, who you wrote a silly little homoerotic pirate jealousy arc for. He's kinda cringefail and tends to be a dick, but you cast a guy who you think embodies him with so much sympathy and genuine emotion. You're so excited to explore his direct relationship to the main couple of your series even more. Unfortunately, you and a lot of the cast and crew are also engaging maybe a bit too much in fandom spaces, which very few of you have much familiarity with navigating as creators. AND there's still renewal stress!

If I were him, I too would consider that perhaps my intended Izzy arc was a bit too nuanced and drawn out, and maybe I needed to clear up some misconceptions as soon as I got the opportunity.

Enter S2.

MAX reduced the budget for the season significantly and it shows - particularly in the whole thing having to squeeze into 8 episodes - and I wouldn't be surprised at all if worries over a S3 renewal / S3 budget impacted S2 writing as well. Character arcs got pinched, goals had to be prioritized... and from the looks of the season, "make sure everyone knows Izzy is not a homophobic villain tormenting Edward as fast as possible" came out as a big goal.

I mean they open with a dream sequence that literally mocks the idea of a heroic Stede rescuing Edward from the dastardly Izzy. It's not subtle.

And the lack of subtlety is kind of what's concerning me.

Izzy's arc is (I think) leaving enough threads that they can extend it into S3 with the reveal he's not actually fine and done developing, but they also seem to want his S2 arc to end in a place where maybe he is. Lots of giant signs pointing to him and saying "Look! Everyone likes him!" or "Look! He's also gay!" at the expense of some of his cringefail or dickish charm. My guy had anxiety he dealt with poorly in S1, and I do think they are trying to frontload or adjust the arc so he's basically (or at least seemingly) over that before the next hiatus.

The best way I've seen it described is that the show no longer trusts the audience to pick up what they are putting down, and so they feel the need to really hammer it in. Not necessarily OOC, but definitely de-emphasizing any of his rough edges that were originally just written to not be any worse than the other characters.

This is why Izzy gets shot by Edward in the very first episode for a bunch of complicated reasons that are really good character work and not super hard to discern, but then later they have Izzy point out to Stede why he got shot twice. It's all very "look into the camera and say the themes", because to some degree they are afraid everyone is going to get easily convinced Edward shot him for calling him a namby-pamby that one time.

It makes me worried they are too afraid of misinterpretation to commit to the arc they originally conceived of, even with the finish line in sight in S3.

And, again, I get it, Mr. Jenkins. In October 2022 he made a funny quip and a boner joke on a tweet about Edward's blanket fort and the hordes descended to scream victoriously about how he was cutting down the Izzy stans for their racist infantilization crimes of thinking Izzy would *checks notes* help hold up a blanket. It's a very reasonable conclusion that this fandom cannot read and needs to be spoonfed Izzy's arc.

It just sucks that a toxic section of fandom's misinterpretations appear to have undercut a strong - and, honestly, not that complicated - character arc so much that S2's BlackBonnet arc can be about fuck ups and backsliding, but Izzy needs at least the illusion of having no flaws left come hiatus time.

[dxxtruction]

The fact there's so many holes, and even contradictions, that are never followed up on in the Paris arc of the story just goes to show how much Daniel was actually thrown back off his game, like they'd planned to. And I keep having to wonder why they did it? Both of them wanted to have there be holes, and covers in the story for what? And I think what it comes down to is it would reveal things about both of them that neither want the world to hear. I don't think it matters so much as the result, and it didn't stop Daniel from finding truths and contradictions anyway. Those showed to Louis that whatever shared blame for anything involved there he ever felt, was a complete waste of his energy he had no time for anymore, when Armand was ten million times more to blame. And had hurt him, repeatedly. Regardless of any actual fact with regards to Paris, or what really happened there.

Which I think would align up with how the book quotes it from Louis. "You could've told me anything about Paris, Armand. Long before now, it wouldn't have mattered." It honestly shows that Armand had a lot more to hide and feel sorry for than Louis ever did. And Armand had really no right to feel sorry for it either. Again in the book. "Don't tell me you have been feeling pain for all this, not you." And after Armand looks wounded by the accusation. "You can't convince me you care about this." Which Armand very clearly doesn't, in the show. He runs out there to recover himself, not Louis. It still doesn't matter what the facts are, and he's running out there to heal all his guilt that Louis simply can not carry along with him anymore.

So yes, is this what you found when you went looking for yourself? Louis Du Lac, getting results. I'd say... Yeah. Cause it really doesn't matter what the real truth of what happened is, Louis can not hold for Armand's blame in things, when Armand, whenever it suits him, can easily pretend to be more blameless. I don't think Armand ever fed it to him that he should be more at blame for things than he was showing already he was, though it is something he does as well, even unintentionally, even if Louis agreed to it. Where the blame is doesn't even matter either, so much as the constant trying to mess with it. The result of that.

He can not lie to himself anymore either that he wants to keep up the mirage of what this all kept up for, which was to 'kill' Lestat. He doesn't hate him, and would like to see him. The end result is he leaves Armand and does. He's just free to do so without feeling ashamed for it. Like he needs to be blamed for it either.

But other characters, definitely, do care more about the details of what's correct. Daniel does. Lestat and Armand do. Louis so deeply not caring about it anymore he won't even read the book. He's taking life now as it comes, in full acceptance of that result. He's a vampire, he lives in Dubai, he can kill you, and he owns the night. Nothing else so much matters especially, just to know and feel who he really is, unburdened by things he should never have had to burden. He can forgive himself, finally.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hey there can you please do a Tommy Shelby daughter x Isaiah . Y/n is the daughter of him and Greta and he’s super protective of her she’s is like his rock especially when he got back from the war. maybe a few times they almost get caught and when they do he find them in a compromising position but ya know y/n is Tommys daughter so she acts all nonchalant about it while Tommy is fuming and she tries to talk him down. Hope it makes sense ❤️

Hey love,

This ended up with a lot of Reader & Lizzie development and I feel that I may have made this too fluffy. Hope you enjoy it and I apologize for how long this took me.

Warnings: Parenting, mentions of death, teen anxiety, family themes

“Thomas it’s obvious! Please don't be stupid about this. Talk to her.” Polly’s voice wore down what little patience he had left. Yes, it was obvious his daughter was seeing someone in his team, and that someone happened to be Isaiah. 

Something that seemed to be lost on everyone was how this type of thing should be handled. Isaiah, like everyone, had a job to do. As his boss it was Tommy’s job to keep him in line. Going out to do God knows what to his daughter was a huge betrayal. He liked Isaiah, but it was up to them to make the right decision to come forward about it and ask for his blessing. 

In which he would consider things carefully with his daughter. If he got involved before that, he would have to punish Isaiah for sneaking around. Which, would probably hurt his daughter and cause a great big fiasco.

Another massive headache to distract everyone from what was important. 

“Do you ever listen?” Polly shouted slamming the door to his office behind her. He sat there for a long while staring at the wall thinking about his daughter. She was so much like her mother it caused him chest pain from time to time. She hadn't known her mother, or that side of the family, meaning she herself would never understand or see the similarities. 

She had just had her 17th birthday. Tommy could see how his role in her life had rapidly changed the older she got. She was incharge, headstrong, and temperamental. He would be forever grateful that Greta’s qualities were there to balance what she had received from him. 

He sighed pouring a glass of whiskey. As much as he wanted to punish Isaiah, he knew this was more her idea than his. 

______________________________________________________________________

You laid in bed haunted by your first relationship. So much pressure was on you. Your heart wanted him, but if you made a foolish choice your father’s disappointment would be enough to wipe you off the planet. You thought back to the morning when you had been kissing in the cellar. Arthur almost caught the two of you. Guilt twisted up in your stomach, and you wondered if it was worth all this pain. Thinking about ending it was somehow even more painful. 

You thought about your dad, what he was like once he came home to you after the war. He was so bitterly cold with everyone, except you. Then you remembered Grace with as much fondness as a block of moldy cheese. A complete waste of a person, well, you got your baby brother from it so you supposed she was alright in the end.

Then there was Lizzie. You wanted to talk to her so badly, but she would tell your dad. Or worse, look down on you. She was too tall, and slim, and pretty to understand the situation you were in. 

Laying there in bed as the night grew later you left it up to fate. If she was awake when you went down stairs you would tell her. If she was asleep then you would keep it a secret. 

You pulled a thick sweater over your pajama top before padding down the stairs. You knocked on your father’s study and opened the door. Lizzie was laying on the couch reading a book. 

She looked like everything you wish you were. Lizzie wouldn't ask for permission, she lived her life however she wanted. Her eyes looked up from over the top of her book and she looked surprised to see you there. 

“Hello.” She sat up and motioned to the other side of the couch. Normally you avoided her, partially out of respect, but also because her aura of perfection annoyed you. 

“Erm - Is this a bad time?” You said in a shy voice. 

“No, not at all.” She said calmly. You sat down on the couch, she wore a silk house coat that hung on her slender frame elegantly. You looked down at the men’s Pajama bottoms and wool sweater you were wearing and gave a defeated sigh. This was very stupid. 

“What’s going on? Everything okay?” Her voice held a tone of genuine concern. You remembered that you had left it up to fate. You took a deep breath then began. 

“Well, I really like Isaiah, he’s kind and funny, and I feel really calm when I’m with him, sometimes he will read to me and I'll just fall asleep, which is embarrassing and everyone says you should feel nervous and like there are flies in your stomach, which is very gross, but I don't know what i’m doing and my mum is dead.” 

The words came out of your mouth like a hurricane. You took a couple deep breaths then more came to the surface. 

“He wants to tell my dad, because he doesn't want to die, which is reasonable, but I don't know how sure I am about this and it’s my life I want to enjoy it, go at my own pace, I don't want to make a bad choice and have dad be disappointed, but also fuck him, I can’t just not live my life. I know you’ve never had to deal with this type of stuff being a woman of “higher education” BUT like I said my mum is dead and Esme is still in the woods, Pol will tell my dad.” 

Her eyes were wide as she looked down at you.

“What’s a woman of higher education?” She asked with a lifted brow. You let out a sigh, frustrated that she was focused on the wrong thing. 

“You know, you went off to school, got a good job, worked for my dad then fell in love with him. Not a lot of conflict. You guys got married and had Ruby.” 

Lizzie let out a laugh that made you want to slap her and cry at the same time. People were so frustrating. 

“Darling, oh, is that what you think of me?” There was a fondness in her voice and a softness in her wet eyes that confused you. “That’s - I’ll tell you my story another time, I promise you it was not glamorous in the slightest.” 

She lit a cigarette and you wanted to know what she meant.  

“This is about you.” She nodded, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “So he makes you feel safe. He knows what your family does for a living. Sounds like a good move.” She responded easily. 

“What about dad?” 

“Just tell him.” 

Your stomach dropped and you still felt like she didn't understand the situation. If your dad and the family knew it would be this huge thing that would swallow you up. It wouldnt be yours anymore. 

“Look your father isn't going to make you marry the guy.” She laughed at the idea. “Even if he was that way I wouldn't let him. You need to do your own thing. I would, however, feel better if you had us behind you. I know what it's like to be out there alone.” Her eyes fell onto the fire and her posture went slightly rigid. 

“Thanks, Lizzie.” You whispered after a long moment. She gave a small smile then walked with you up to your room. You got into bed wondering what her life was like before drifting off. 

___________________________________________________________

The morning came and you found yourself in a losing battle with guilt as Isaiah pulled you into a broom cupboard. 

“Have you had some time to think about things?” 

“Oh um -” You thought about what Lizzie said and took a breath. 

“Look, I’m not trying to pressure you. I just really hate lying to your da.” He gave you a long look and warmth spread across your cheeks. “Whatever you want - Is fine with me.” He said finally. 

“I think it’s best we talk to him.” You said letting out a happy giggle as he picked you up. He kissed you hard and your heart rate sped up. You kissed him back and before you knew it you were pressed up against the back wall with your legs around his waist. 

It was wrong. But for some reason that made it harder to stop. He made noises that were going to keep you up for days.

______________________________________________________________

Tommy’s POV 

Lizzie had spoken to you, about what, she wouldn't say, but it confirmed to him that things were getting out of hand. A small part of him was pleased that you were starting to see Lizzie as a part of the family, the other part of him didn't like the idea of you keeping secrets with anyone but him. 

In the corner of his eye he caught the door to the broom cupboard swing shut and he fought with himself for a moment. Might as well put her out of her misery and just get it over with. No one was here to witness it meaning that no one would know this is how it went down. He wouldn't punish Isaiah, just have a chat with him after about what punishment will look like if he messed up again. It would be enough to set him straight. 

He opened the door with the intention of sorting this out. Seeing his daughter in a position like that was something he was not prepared for. He set you down immediately, removing his hands. 

He was too angry to speak. He had half a mind to kill the stupid kid. He watched your face turn from shock to rage. This was not going to be a easy morning. 

“Isaiah, get out.” You snapped, he looked at you for a moment but left when he realised it was in his best interest to listen. 

“We were going to tell you today at lunch. We are dating. Nothing bad happened here, so I don't need to be scolded.” You crossed your arms.

“Go home and wait for me there.” Was all he could manage to say. Having a screaming match when they opened in ten minutes was not wise. His tone of voice made your skin pale slightly meaning you would listen. You stomped out of the shop. He waited for Polly to show up and explained before heading home. 

He made a stop along the way and tried his best to orginize his thoughts. 

________________________________________________________

You walked around the kitchen island in circles.

Lizzie sat there drinking her coffee. 

“I really fucked everything up. He’s so mad Lizzie.” 

“He’s your father, it's his job to be angry.” She said easily. “He loves you, a lot. He’s got this whole complex about your mum too.” She took a drag of her cigarette. You stopped and turned to look at her from across the kitchen. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means, he will never forgive himself for your mum, in his head the whole thing was his fault. Him not being there when you were born - the whole thing. Last thing he ever wrote to your mum was about how he would keep the two of you safe. He takes it very seriously. He wants to protect you, but this is new ground for him and he’s not sure how to do it. He can be a real idiot about things, but that’s why he’s got me to help him sort it out. He’s not going to hurt you or Isaiah.” 

“What she said.” You dad’s voice made you jump. He came over and placed a kiss on the top of Lizzie’s head. That stupid part of you that wanted to prove him wrong kicked up.

“I’m not going to let you control everything.” You said, something about arguing felt good. You like Isaiah, you wanted to fight for him. 

“I don’t want you to live that way.” He said after a long moment. “But you're my kid, in my house, there are rules.” You thought about arguing but waited to see what he would say. 

“First off, curfew is 8pm.” 

“11.” Lizzie said interrupting him. 

“10pm. No boys in your room - ever. Kissing is fine - nothing without clothes. Ever.” 

“Once you're married.” Lizzie said with a smile in her voice. 

“Never get married.” He said getting annoyed at being interrupted. 

“Ouch.” She said in a mock hurt voice. 

“There’s - Parenting. It’s hard. If you can wait till your ready - it’s -” 

“Dad ew-” You held your hands out as if it could stop the conversation. 

“No, no one had this talk with Ada and - “ He seemed lost for words. 

“Her husband died.” You said confused.

“Exactly. Teen pregnancy is a real killer okay? So just dont make a baby - ever.” 

“Once you're married.” Lizzie said with a smile. 

“Which is never.” He said firmly. 

“Now the real thing you need to hear from us. If you come and tell us something awful has happened to you, we will believe you and unleash a world of hurt on that boy.” She said with a serious tone pointing at you. “If you get pregnant, you’ll get a wedding and a place to live. But I think we both know you want time to get there, eh?” You nodded at her. “Exactly, so don't do anything we would have done, and take your time. Find the right boy when your ready."  

You finally broke her stare to look to your dad standing next to her. He was gripping the chair tight enough to turn his knuckles white. His gaze was focused out the window on the wet grass in the backyard. 

“I want you to be happy- In your life.” The words were not difficult, but the meaning behind them was enormous. You thought about everything your dad, and family did for you. You felt your face get hot at the words you knew you should say. 

“I am informed, and I will not make a baby, because, I do not -  at this time-  want to be married or to live in a house on my own, with an infant. Ruby is annoying enough as it is.” You added the last bit in to lighten the mood. 

“Don’t talk about your sister like that.” Tommy said in a worn voice. 

“I know - I love her for it.” You said and went over to hug your dad. He put his arm around you tightly and kissed the top of your head. 

“Lizzie.” You let go of him and watched the look of confusion on her face as you reached down to her. She hugged you back awkwardly due to her seated position. When you pulled away your dad handed you a small box of pastries from your favorite shop, but it didn't distract you from Lizzie brushing the tears from her cheeks. 

“Well, those look good,” She said in a high voice and you pushed the box to her. 

___________

You and Isaiah, did not make a baby or get married. However, when you look back on that time in your life you remember your parents looking at you in a different way for the first time. Like an adult, in charge of her life. You remember getting close with Lizzie fussing over outfits and various arguments, and feeling secretly touched by how much she and Tommy cared about the situation. 

[alpydk]

When my dad died, the first thing I did was go shopping for chocolate. I made jokes. The world around me didn't exist. I went into an autopilot to show that it didn't bother me. It couldn't bother me because he was an asshole. Chase's quote repeatedly went over in my mind, one that I wished those around me would understand. One that I had heard when I was a depressed teenager. Never had I been so seen, someone who just got it. It wasn't about the abuse; it was about my dad never being there.

"I don't hate him. I loved him until I figured out it hurts a lot less to just not care. You don't expect him to turn up to your football match? No disappointments. You don't expect a call on your birthday, don't expect to see him for months? No disappointments. You want us to go make up? Sink a few beers together, nice family hug? I've given him enough hugs. He's given me enough disappointments." - Chase (Cursed [1.13])

Before he died, we hadn't spoken in 5 years. Like Chase, I had stopped loving my father. I didn't hate my dad either. There we simply too many disappointments. There was no huge fight, no storming out. There was just silence. And like Chase's father, mine tried the half-arsed attempt to make things right without ever actually apologising. After he died suddenly, I did not go to the funeral. I had no right to be there, I and others felt. My partner was keen to point out that I shouldn't waste the energy on someone who wasn't there for me. And on the surface, I agreed. Anger was much more productive than the guilt that was simmering beneath the surface. Guilt that wished I could apologise for being the bad child. For being so stubborn and immature, rather than just talking to him. Maybe he would have forgiven me, maybe he would have said he was proud. Maybe there would have been another disappointment. I write this because a few days ago I read a fic about Chase's reaction to his father's death and it's not sat well with me since. A character that I related to so much, reduced to a cliche breakdown of sobbing instantly and grieving so easily, rather than the nuanced levels of emotions that simmer and burst constantly, emotions that are fought against because neither father nor son deserve them. Emotions that aren't just sadness and loss, but guilt, so much fucking guilt. There's anger at everyone involved, denial because how dare he feel about someone who treated him in such a way, and then confusion, because those feelings are still there and they hurt. I guess I needed to rant about this. I know everyone grieves differently, I know that this is my experience and I can't dictate how another would mourn, but yeah... I miss my dad, and I hate that I do.