#but now is just tired angry and burnt out (for good reasons)

[ct-hardcase]

I think the interrogation scene with eighth, ahsoka, and kanan should've gone longer. to make things worse for all three of them.

[cheemscakecat]

Refrigeration

A little fanfic about BLU Spy.

TW: BLU gets confronted about the pictures he took. And why he shouldn’t have been so causal about showing them to Scout

When becoming a mercenary, one had to prepare for the worst case scenarios. Failure, torture, death… death of a loved one. All things that Spy had spent years preparing and accounting for. But RED team still found ways to push the envelope.

It all started with the 1st battle against the nearly identical looking RED team after his nemesis stole their intelligence. And the pictures. Spy kicked himself for falling for the Scout disguise and showing the enemy Spy the pictures. Pictures of said Spy and the BLU Scout’s mother having sexual congress.

BLU Scout was far too outgoing, too trusting. And very annoying, once he got tired of Spy trying to give him a taste of reality. So, those photographs of his two-faced mother were indispensable. The perfect way to wise him up, and now they were gone, wasted. Soldier stupidly shot him, his own teammate in an attempt to out the RED.

The team’s intelligence? Taken by RED Spy. The evidence of Scout’s mother acting treacherously? Most likely destroyed, and now Spy had no recourse for proving the truth to the boy. And of course, the whole team was angry about a singular Spy crippling them and getting away.

But he could use that anger to his advantage. It didn’t take much convincing to get Pyro and Demoman on his side. For one thing, they had been the last two killed in battle, distracted when RED bolted out of base, Scout struggling to catch up. For another, Scout was Pyro’s best and only friend. If anyone would want payback for that Spy outrunning him, it would be the dragon.

—————————

They caught the RED Spy off guard. Together, Demoman’s bombs and Pyro’s fire incapacitated him. Spy watched his RED doppelgänger writhe with a satisfied smirk. Then he noticed the earpiece, which was now visible because fire had burnt a small hole in the Spy’s mask. He grunted an angry, desperate “NO!” as Jacques snatched the device. Demoman pressed his foot down on the RED’s belly to keep him from making any surprise attacks.

Spy heard a voice on the other end and slid the tiny microphone into his own ear, being careful not to reveal his face as he pulled up the mask. “Ay! I’m talking to you ******* , pick up!” It was RED Scout. Spy smugly turned towards his doppelgänger. “Alright! I’m not deaf! Just had to deal with those ****ed BLUs for a moment.” RED Spy gaped and wordlessly mouthed the word “No”.

Good. Now he knew how it felt. Even Pyro seemed to be holding back a hearty laugh. “We’ll hurry up and get to the control room. I ain’t waiting all day.” The RED -thoroughly beaten and helpless- struggled to free himself like he wasn’t going to respawn anyway. How stupid. “Don’t! You can’t-“ He pleaded. Spy merely aimed the revolver at his forehead and pulled the trigger.

He found the RED Scout slouching about near the control room. “Took ya long enough! Thought’ ya planned ahead!” Spy frowned. “It’s not my fault! Those BLUs were paranoid as Hell.” RED pursed his lips and glared like a spoiled child. “Whateva. I bet they’re halfway to the intel by now. We gotta get movin!” Spy tilted his head and jerked it towards the hallway.

Scout blinked at him incredulously. “Don’t change your plan now! Ya said you wanted to lead!” Curse that lousy RED Spy, he planned ahead. “I was just making sure you remembered. Keep your voice down boy, they could be here any minute.” Spy hissed urgently, pretending to be concerned. The Scout stared at him with an unreadable expression. “Well come on! You’re the impatient one.” He urged. The Scout put his hands in his pockets and meandered forward,

Spy didn’t like having the enemy behind him. It was supposed to be the other way around. He’d have to come up with a good reason to pull out his revolver. Maybe pretending a member of his team was-

Something heavy hit him square in the back of the head. His RED Spy disguise disappeared. **** it! He caught himself haphazardly before his head could hit the floor. Scout was just snapping out of his shock when he turned to face him. “I KNEW IT!” He roared. Jacques glared up at him and lunged with his knife, but the Scout easily dodged. He got smacked upside the head again with a red baseball bat. Scout must have pulled it out of his bag with an absurd lack of sound.

Before long the relentless RED Scout had pummeled Spy with the bat until he was unable to move. He was still awake though, which meant he could be taunted. Scout squatted down with a satisfied goonish grin. “Hard to stab a guy in the back when he’s beatin your fricken head in, huh?” Spy refused to respond to the man-child.

RED cocked his head to the side and sneered with disgust. “Our Spy’s a lotta things, but an idiot ain’t one of ‘um. Like Hell he’d call me boy.” Spy cursed himself in his head. Of course they didn’t call him boy, he had a bad attitude the size of Texas! How could he forget…

“Ah! Scout! Can you refrain from killing that Spy, please?” No. Not him! Spy looked on in horror as the RED Medic strode towards them, holding some strange device. The Scout shuffled in confusion, his shoulders tensing. Even the REDs fear him. “Thank you! I have a vunderful new machine I’d like to try.” “Oh! Uh, you wanna use this Spy?” The Scout relaxed, realizing he wasn’t the target.

“Yes! It’s so lucky I caught you like this, we usually kill the BLU team so fast..” Spy tried not to panic, especially since the mad Medic was staring. “Uh… Yeah man. Do what’cha want.” From his tone, Spy could tell that Scout was just as surprised as him. No, no NO! “I’ll leave ya to it then, doc. I gotta go fight n… all that.” The excuse fell on deaf ears, for the Medic was too busy with his device and bone saw to listen. Spy watched hopelessly as the enemy Scout left him alone with the freak.

——————

Decapitation. That’s what the Medic went with. Under normal circumstances it would have been fine. Spy would merely die and respawn back at BLU Base. But RED Medic was anything but normal. And that’s why he was still alive, hooked up to the device and being carried around like a trophy. Spy forced himself to keep a poker face, to try to conceal his fear. He didn’t want to give the Medic any sick kicks or new ideas. Whistling, the Medic trotted into RED’s respawn room with him. The other teammates froze in surprise.

There were rumors about this Medic. Rumors that were not unreasonable. They knew for sure that he experimented on his own team, replacing vital organs with the animal equivalent. There was much speculation about what such a mad-man was capable of, what his end goal could possibly be, and how insane he was. But one of the worst rumors was that he was cannibal. It made sense, what else could he be doing with the discarded organs? On second thought, Spy didn’t want to know.

So he wasn't really surprised when the RED team spoke cautiously with the mad-man. “What’cha got there, Doc?” The Engineer asked. He spoke with the cadence of a mother or school teacher. With underlying unease, of course. The Medic shifted in excitement and held him out further, so they could see.

“I’ve designed a machine to keep heads alive! There’s a vindow of opportunity after the spine is severed, and I wanted to put it to use! Say something!” He shook Jacques’ head like a toddler with a Christmas present, then paused to let him speak. It was risky, but he knew exactly what to say. In French, he viciously insulted Germany; their food, their leadership, and their women. A short but appropriate phrase he learned back in occupied France.

The RED Medic laughed loudly until he was nearly out of breath. “Oho! Ho-ho, that is true!” He UNDERSTOOD?!

———————-

Nicotine was the only tool getting Jacques through the stress of what was happening. Thankfully, the RED Medic provided him with a steady supply of bitter, cheap American cigarettes. It was cold in the fridge. He felt light in a very uncomfortable way; like a balloon that a child failed to hold onto, rising into the sky with the knowledge that he’d pop from the air pressure. He missed his hands, and he missed his heartbeat, and he missed the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He missed eating and he missed warmth.

He didn’t hate all Germans, but he sure hated this one. He liked the BLU Medic well enough, and looked up to the escaped artists and filmmakers who made it to Hollywood during the war. But he hated RED Medic and his stupid feral grin.

Over the next few days, Spy heard incomprehensible voices through the fridge walls. He could discern the number of people in the room, but never what they were saying. RED Medic was always chortling and talking to his birds. This time, he could tell that the Medic had left the room, leaving him with one other enemy teammate. It turned out to be the RED Spy.

It was an embarrassing situation, being a disembodied head in a fridge and all. But the RED surprisingly didn’t taunt him or gloat about the situation. It actually looked like he didn’t know what to say.

But Jacques knew that RED had a score to settle with him. He had gotten pictures of him and the youngest BLU Teammate’s mama having intercourse. No Spy or man in general would take that invasion of privacy lightly. RED was probably there to interrogate or torture him, since he hadn’t come to gloat.

BLU prepared himself for whatever might come next, strengthening his poker face and praying that the RED would accidentally detach the battery on the device under his neck. He may just be put out of his misery.

RED Spy sighed in frustration and looked away. He paused, still bent down with the fridge door open. Evidently being a decapitated head wasn’t enough punishment for what had happened. Wait. My mask. What if he’s here to take my mask? Jacque himself had only bothered to take the dirtier pictures to see if he could get a picture of RED maskless. But he’d been planning to give it to the Administrator, and had no idea who RED might reveal his identity to. Or who in his family would be in danger.

He tried not to balk at the idea. “Look” RED started. He sounded tired. “We both know what you did.” Spy forced a poker face, hoping he wouldn’t give RED the satisfaction of seeing him fearful. Hoping he wouldn’t slip up. “But it would be childish of me to pitch a fit. You snuck past me fair and square.”

Jacques blinked in surprise, the first reaction he had shown since getting trapped here. He’s not planning revenge? Why? The RED teammate kneeled down closer, frowning grumpily as he did. He stared at his foe with a heavy exhaustion dimming his eyes. This was unexpected.

”You still have more of those pictures, I presume?” “Yes.” He replied without hesitation, feigning confidence. The truth was he might have one or two more of the photographs left, buried under files or tucked away somewhere. But the RED Spy had taken the majority, if not all of the pictures when he stole their intelligence that day. Disguised as poor, naive little Scout.

It was a shame that he’d probably never find another one of those photos, the boy needed to know. He needed to stop trusting his mother with whatever information she knew, so she couldn’t consort with this enemy teammate. But Spy could play the part of someone who still had a collection of evidence, at least long enough to fool RED Spy.

“When we let you go, there won’t be any way to stop you showing him.” The RED Spy sounded almost defeated in addition to exhausted. He looked away, putting his hand over his mouth and letting it fall. When he looked back, his eyes were pleading.

“Can I just make one request?” “What sort of request?” “Don’t show him the pictures of her naked. I saw that you had photographs where she’s clothed, and those will get your point across.” Jacques blinked up at him dully.

“And why should I be so discerning?” You two are the ones going behind the boy’s back for cheap pleasure. RED inhaled and exhaled with a slight shudder. “It doesn’t matter if he hates me. I’m an enemy teammate that he’ll fight regardless. But it matters if he’s estranged from his mother. They’re family.”

Spy felt a burning, deep anger swell in his veins, even without a chest. Family? “Oh, so she can keep mining his naive *** for information? So she can keep lying to him and playing with you? Please, don’t make her sound so innocent.” RED Spy glared at him suddenly, before his expression softened and he looked away. He sighed softly.

“She’s not a double agent. For all you know, I could be lying to her.” Jacques hadn’t considered that. “Look, it’s going to be hard enough when he confronts her over the clean pictures. She’s not the type who’d document her bedroom activities.” Red swallowed. “It’ll distract her, make her stumble over her words thinking about her son seeing things he was never meant to. I’m sure the pictures are an issue she’d like to discuss calmly with him.”

Spy though for a moment. He really didn’t know how guilty Scout’s mother was, or how the real boy would react. But now he knew that RED Spy cared about it. He could take advantage of that, but something held him back. The way the enemy Spy talked and his body language reminded him of something. He couldn’t place it, even with the gnawing familiarity.

But more than that his thoughts drifted to his own mother, and what would happen if there were dirty pictures of her. If he were young, and hormonal and stupid. If some creep showed him pictures of her private business, blaming her for a crime she didn’t commit.

Mrs, Murneau was a cheerful, upbeat civilian who kept her private matters private. And it would be hellish to put her through something like this. To have her son barge in with 500 questions and a file folder of disturbing content, questioning her integrity. And he could picture her horror and difficulty in defending her name, even if she was innocent. He felt a sinking pang of guilt.

If RED Spy wasn’t lying, Scout’s mother was the same way. In fact, Scout might have gotten his overly friendly and trustful personality from her.

“That is something to consider..” RED Spy stared. “Alright. I’ll sort through and find the clean ones. You have my word.” The RED sighed with relief, relaxing his tense shoulders. He’d been expecting his rival to remain unyielding.

“Thank you.” This time when he looked away, it was more casual. “Before I go, would you care for a cigarette?” “You keep a cyanide handy?” “Thankfully, there’s no need. The others are ironing out the details with Medic, but you should respawn sometime this evening.” He stared in shock. They were going to set him free? He’d get his body back! He’d finally be back at BLU base and away from that freak doctor!

Jacques tried hard to conceal his excitement and remain somewhat professional. “If you wouldn’t mind, then.” RED pulled the nasty, cheap cigarette out from between BLU’s teeth and replaced it with one of his better quality ones, lighting it before he closed the fridge door. He savored that good cigarette, which wasn’t the same brand he preferred but tasted delicious and smooth. It was sweeter and lighter in flavor than the ones he bought, which meant the hidden cyanide would stand out less.

——————-

When he spawned back at base, the rest of the team was caught off guard. Apparently he’d been gone for four days, but everyone assumed that he’d taken vacation time. It was his habit as a Spy not to announce his days off ahead of time, so he couldn’t be mad at them for the assumption. When he told them that that RED Medic had decapitated him and kept his head alive, they were horrified.

BLU Medic, who unfortunately looked almost identical to RED, was gibbering and tutting like a hen whose babies jumped in a puddle, and examining him already. Jacques repressed the urge to fight the poor Medic as he got up in his face looking for injuries. He’s only doing his job. It’s not his fault the freak has the same face as him.

The last thing he wanted was to be examined by another German, and that feeling boiled over when the doctor unexpectedly pulled up part of his mask. Before he could think, Spy found himself violently pushing Dr Ludwig and tugging his mask back into place. There was a very awkward hush as Scout and Pyro helped the doctor to his feet.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was doing.” Still shaken by having more gloved hands on his neck, Spy could only nod curtly. Fritz couldn’t blame him for being jumpy and lashing out. “What were you checking for?” He asked apprehensively. “Um… Respawn complications on your neck. Or anything that the crazy Medic might have.. left?” He was not terribly surprised when Spy decided to head to bed for the night without a checkup. He wasn't ready.

———————-

after excusing himself to go to bed and rest, Jacques throughly checked for anything wrong with his neck. He’d insisted that Medic leave him be, but had no intention of dying or getting an infection from an unseen wound. Thankfully there was nothing suspicious, which soothed his nerves and the paranoid itch he’d been feeling. Then he was free to appreciate having his body.

He flexed each of his fingers in turn and balled his hands into fists. He put a hand against his chest to feel his own steady heartbeat and breathing. Jacques felt like sprinting through a field of tall grass - no, wheat- actually tulips, tulips and hyacinths. And then he wanted to roll around the warm grass, not that he’d let his team know that dirt didn't bother him. He had an image to uphold.

But here in his room, with its kitchen and amenities, he was free to celebrate.

Spy set a large pot of water to boil and grabbed a hefty serving of frozen cheese stuffed pasta from his fridge. He chopped and fried up some salty ham, and made a really good béchamel sauce with white wine, cheese, and heavy cream.

When his meal was ready, he devoured it like a starved animal and emptied half a bottle of brandy. After about 3 cigarettes and a glass of wine, he finally got into his pajamas and tumbled into bed. And even as someone who preferred to avoid sleep, he was content to curl up in the bed in the safety and comfort of his own room and body.

[positivelyadhd]

Honestly, I have a lot of issues with the term "gifted kid burnout" and how it's used.

Not because I don't think it's something that previously gifted kids suffer with, I do. But because I think it's more representative of a neurodivergent experience generally. Or possibly more specifically, the neurodivergent people that were either undiagnosed, late diagnosed or diagnosed but not supported.

I really, really think that "gifted kid burnout" is just "neurodivergent kid burnout" or possibly "undiagnosed/unsupported neurodivergent kid burnout" which I understand doesn't have the same ring to it.

I know to the "gifted kids" the distinction doesn't matter, and I know that really it shouldn't matter to anyone. But I also know that as a person that wasn't a "gifted kid" but still has all the same difficulties of that burn out now, that it hurts.

The burnout is a symptom of not being understood, of trying and struggling in a system that isn't built for you but somehow being able to work with it anyway. Of getting out of that system and suddenly realising that the rest of the world is an entirely different system that also wasn't built for you, and not being able to keep up with it anymore. Of other people finally seeing that you'd actually found things difficult this whole time and not being able to fully understand.

That is an unsupported neurodivergent experience, not a "gifted" one. And again, I know it shouldn't matter, and I shouldn't really be this bothered (and the reason I am is clearly personal), but I'm thinking about the people that weren't gifted. The people that weren't celebrated for good grades or given awards and held up as an example. That still muddled through the same system and trauma of not being supported. The people that tried seemingly harder than everyone else around them to keep up and were told it wasn't enough. Or they were lazy, or there was something wrong with them, or felt ignored. The people that didn't achieve grades that were significant enough for teachers to care about either way, and so slipped through the cracks. That stopped trying so hard and just did whatever was needed to survive in that system. And are now faced with the same difficulties of adjusting to a world that doesn't understand or see them.

I see you. And I hope you know that you are allowed to be burnt out, and tired and angry. You're allowed to claim those experiences and speak in those spaces.

[zodiactalks]

What's Your HIDDEN DESIRE? Your Zodiac Sign Will Tell You the Truth

What we want the most in the world isn't always apparent. We might hide it from others, consciously or subconsciously. It might be because we don't want to jinx it, or simply because we are afraid people will judge us if we are authentic.

The stars can give you and your deepest desires away, though. If you're wondering what your partner or friend wants the most, or even if you just want to understand yourself a little bit better, here is what each of the Zodiac signs secretly want.

Aries

Being recognized by their more tender side

It can get tiring for Aries to have a reputation for being angry, impatient and proactive. They secretly want people to see them for who they actually are – one of the most romantic people on the planet, so sweet they could give you a toothache.

They are the kind of person who is very generous with their words and who loves to shower those they love with compliments. They get the best presents for their partner, family, and friends, too.

They are the first people to show up when you need help. Their sweeter side, however, often goes unappreciated. Reassure them that you love their more tender side and they'll be over the moon.

Taurus

Being able to forgive

If Taurus could change one thing about themselves, they would actually stop holding grudges altogether. They themselves suffer from their inability to let go more than anyone else.

They would pay a million dollars for the capacity to easily forgive and forget, and we all know how much Taurus loves money. Encourage them to explore their more spiritual side, they might find the key to forgiveness in a crystal or a sacred text.

Gemini

Being perceived as stable

Geminis are honestly tired of being perceived as inconsistent. As they have a more rational side, they are actually able to not to be swept up by emotion and they are able to be stable in a way.

If Geminis had one wish, they would change the collective narrative surrounding their sign so people would pay more attention to this. Make your Gemini feel special by telling them how stable they are. Appreciate the fact that they have a good head on their shoulders and that their thoughts are rarely clouded by emotions. They'll love you for it.

Cancer

Quitting everything to save the animals

This might sound too specific, but you'd be surprised at the number of Cancers who fantasize about this when they are stressed or burnt out. Cancers are huge animal lovers, and if they could quit everything and dedicate their lives to running an animal shelter and saving as many animals as they can, they would.

For now, they are happy with four or five pets, though. Encourage them to donate their time and/or money to the local shelter. They might not know how much they need that.

Leo

Empowering and inspiring others

It's wrong to say that Leo only cares about themselves. They dream of making a difference in the lives of others. They'd love for their confidence to be contagious and help disempowered people find their voice.

They'd also love to inspire others to make positive changes in their lives. They are often found volunteering, especially to empower others through the arts. They also make great teachers for this very reason.

Virgo

People taking care of them for a change

Virgo is always checking everyone is okay, but who checks that Virgo is okay? It's nothing short of Virgo's wet dream that someone looks after them and checks up on them without Virgo having to ask.

They might not even consciously know how much they really want and need this, but it might make a huge difference for them. If you love a Virgo, send them random texts asking how they are, and bring them soup when they're sick, just like they would if you were sick. It would mean the world to them.

Libra

Being loved for who they truly are

Like Virgo, Libra might not be consciously aware of how much they want and need this. They are used to making accommodations to their identity according to who they're with.

It would be a huge weight off their shoulders if they could just be who they truly are and felt no pressure whatsoever to put on a mask to please others. Offer them a safe space so they can be themselves, and be patient while they get used to that idea.

Scorpio

People anticipating their needs

If Scorpio has to ask for something, they don't want it anymore. It would be nothing short of a dream for someone to know them so well they can anticipate their wants and needs and they can receive them without having to ask for anything.

Of course, this is only possible in a long-term relationship, and even then, no one is a mind reader. But Scorpio will keep on dreaming. Do your best to remember everything they tell you and anticipate their needs. You won't do it perfectly if you haven't known them for long, but they will appreciate the effort.

Sagittarius

A stable partner who can keep up their pace

Even though Sagittarius will say that they don't want to be tied down by a partner, they secretly want someone who can be their partner in crime and have their back in their numerous adventures.

They will continue saying that they don't want a committed relationship because they know it's a tall order to find a nomad who's hungry for adventure that they can date. Even Sagittarius, the incurable optimist, is daunted by how difficult it is to find such a person. But, when that person finally comes into their life, they'll absolutely adore them.

Capricorn

Being recognized for their sense of humor

Capricorns get a reputation for being too rigid and serious. They are actually hilarious, especially if your brand of humor is as dark as Capricorn's coffee. If you can learn to appreciate their sense of humor, laugh at their jokes and tell them how funny they are. They will seriously appreciate the difference.

Even more so if you follow their lead and start to banter in just the way they like. At the end of a long day, Capricorn just loves a good laugh, and being recognized by their comic genius.

Aquarius

Being the center of attention

Aquarius will deny this. They will say they'd rather have the voiceless be in the spotlight, or use whatever attention they get to raise awareness for their favorite social cause.

But they secretly love all the attention they get. It's one of their motivations for being so weird and outrageous. They secretly love to be the center of attention. They might even daydream about being famous, but they'd never admit it.

Pisces

Sticking to a routine

Even though Pisces has a delicious chaotic energy, they'd love to stick to a healthy routine in which they do their chores in an orderly manner, look after themselves and fulfill their obligations without procrastinating or getting overwhelmed.

But it's a pipe dream and they know it. They'll oversleep, get distracted, lose their focus, and eventually do the best they can when they can.

Were these accurate?

Did we miss something?

If so, tell us in the comments!

Were you surprised by any of them or do they all make sense?

Did you get any ideas of how to make your loved ones feel special?

[bistaxx]

JINX !! tell me why you ship Quackity x Luzu and why you dont ship Quackity x Wilbur I need to know the Lore

Hiiiiiiiii Vin! oh gosh- I'll try to condense this as much as I can OKAY SO...

yeah I don't vibe with tntduo 😭- I already talked about q!tnt so I'll just explain about c!tnt instead:

Why don’t you ship it: The Fandom. Listen I hate saying it but it really is 90% of the reason why- I always try not to let annoying fandom stuff sour my opinions but like... MAN- Because like I actually did really use to enjoy /r tntduo fuck man I was shipping it back in October 17th 2020 after the moment in the button room and especially after the famous Niki's birthday stream like- idk I just liked the dynamic and the chemistry it was fun! I was even still shipping it when I first started getting really into the c!fiances and was hyped when Wilbur and Quackity met up again... but then. IDK- something about the fandom take on their dynamic just didn't click with me it didn't feel like the same characters I enjoyed ESPECIALLY IN REGARDS TO THE WAY C!QUACKITY WOULD GET TREATED- like GIRL- Quackity would not cave and be visibly annoyed or flustered by the first jab Wilbur makes hello-??? or the fanart that would portray Wil as like completely disregarding Q's personal space as this 'teehee funny flirty' thing like I HATED that shit- I also just hated how when I tried to look up c!fiances content I had to filter like 5 million tags to actually find what I was looking for because there'd be so many c!tnt fics that had the fiances tagged in them and 50% of the time it was just so Quackity could break-up with them for Wilbur 😭 I also just like got sick of seeing it everywhere when I wanted to find c!Q content it felt like it was inescapable and that people only cared for my favorite character solely to mischaracterize him in a ship I was quickly growing tired of... yeha I think that sums it up-

What would have made you like it? Um.. All of the above not happening LMAO-

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? Like I said earlier I DID really like it and I have tnt shipping mutuals who do the dynamic justice even if I got super burnt out on it (shoutout to Thes)

... So anyway uh- SO LUCKITY-

(this will be a lot shorter despite how much I have to say about Luckity I'm just really tired rn SORRY 😭)

This will be about k!Luckity specifically cuz I rly don;t have much of anything to say about q!Luckity outside of finding Arinckity cute

What made you ship it? Started for the fluff and stayed for the toxic ship 😈- GOD Quackity and Luzu fucking outdid themselves with Luckity in Karmaland V like dude it's just so good- like looking back on it the writing was already on the walls that they were so doomed from the very start- like they somehow manage to be both "it's tragic because it didn't have to end this way" and "it's tragic because it was always gonna end this way." if that makes sense. But god at the start it was just so easy to overlook the blaring the red flags because they'd give us just enough hope that it'd end well only for the rug to get pulled during the elections and the whole dynamic get's flopped on it's head but now instead of cute fluff or funny flirting it's this Angry passion and resentment- from start to end they were devoted to each other whether in hatred or in love. The build-up and payoff were both just amazing even if I felt miffed about the ending of the arc at first I've since come to love it because really it's just the cherry on top of their tragedy leaving the possibility they could just end up doing it all over again yeah <3 They were The Moment yeah!

What are your favorite things about the ship? A lot of things but like- I love that they're sun and moon coded <33333 I remember associating them with sun/moon imagery before they took those iconic photos with the sun and moon and like I was so hyped when that happened <3 my toxic sun/moon boys yeah <3

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? Not really no- but HEY check out this web weave I made about Luckity that I'm still super proud of and debate remaking one day: X :3

[mimisempai]

What happened to us ?

Summary

It was bound to happen one day, their first real fight, but when it did neither was ready.

But once the heated spirits have cooled down, it's time for reconciliation and with the help of a bar of kit kat, hearts soften again.

Notes

Mystrade Monday 3.0  #21 "What happened to us"

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On Ao3

Rating G - 864 words

The sound of the front door opening woke Greg from his sleep. He was lying in their bed, alone. 

Everything came back to him.

For the first time since they had moved in together, he and Mycroft had argued. A real fight, not one of their usual little squabbles. 

He muttered to himself, "What the hell happened to us?"

He refused to think about his failed marriage, the daily arguments that had led to the ugly divorce.

In the living room, Mycroft made no attempt to hide his presence. Greg could almost picture his every move from the various sounds he made.

He closed his eyes and reviewed the day's events. Neither of them had had a good night's sleep, and Mycroft had been working overtime while Greg had been on case after case. As a result, their schedules hadn't allowed them to see each other much, and frustration had done the rest. So the small, insignificant details they usually compromised on were blown out of proportion. Like Greg leaving his socks lying around, or Mycroft stealing Greg's coffee because he was too lazy to make it for him when his cup was empty.

It was all completely meaningless stuff, and Greg had no idea which one had been the trigger for the fight. He wasn't even sure who had shouted first, or why exactly, and it didn't really matter because within minutes everything had gone to hell. Mycroft had suddenly grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him before Greg had time to figure out what had just happened.

It was really stupid, now that Greg was getting some perspective. There had been no reason for them to get so angry with each other. It could have been avoided if they had taken a second to breathe. To pay attention and realize how tired and overworked they were. If they had taken the time to take care of themselves and each other.

Greg was already composing his apology in his head when the bedroom door opened. Mycroft stood in the doorway, looking as sheepish as Greg, and they said "I'm sorry" at the same time.

They looked at each other shyly, both wearing the same embarrassed smile. Greg simply lifted the blanket and it took Mycroft only seconds to join him. Mycroft took the next step, opening his arms and Greg snuggled against him. They stayed like that for a few moments in silence, both enjoying each other's presence.

"I'm so sorry," Mycroft said against Greg's hair.

Greg replied, "I'm really sorry too, we both got carried away over little things, just because we didn't take care of ourselves enough, I should have seen you were exhausted, I didn't pay enough attention."

Mycroft shook his head, "and I should have seen that you were lonely, and that you were burnt out on work too." He sighed, "Actually, we both need a break, together."

Greg hummed and lifted his head to kiss Mycroft's chin. His gaze was drawn to a small red package lying next to Mycroft that he hadn't noticed at first.

Greg reached out and took the small package, then exclaimed, "A Kit Kat?!"

Mycroft murmured against his chest, "I saw them in the sweet shop window on my way home earlier, and I know they are your favorite treat, so as they say, chocolate softens the heart..."

Greg's smile widened, he pulled Mycroft back and handed the Kit Kat to Mycroft, opening his mouth.

Mycroft sighed, "Greg, honestly?"

Greg replied, "Sweeten my heart, Mycroft." Then he opened his mouth again.

Mycroft chuckled softly as he opened the wrapper and broke off a piece of Kit Kat. He fought back a laugh when he saw Greg's face, eyes shining like a puppy waiting for a treat and mouth wide open, he couldn't help but tease him and leaned in to press a light kiss to his lips.

Greg pouted and said, "Nice attempt at sweetening, but I can't say I really had time to savor it.

Mycroft slid the piece of chocolate into Greg's mouth, unable to hold back a shiver of excitement as Greg's lips closed on his finger. Moaning with exaggerated pleasure, Greg closed his eyes and took the time to savor his piece of Kit Kat as Mycroft gently pulled his finger away.

When Greg finally opened his eyes, he was surprised by the heat that burned in Mycroft's eyes and he barely had time to feel himself blush before Mycroft's lips were on his in a kiss that was much longer than the first, sweet and hot at the same time, full of anticipation.

Greg moaned into the kiss again and wrapped his arms around Mycroft. He opened his mouth and Mycroft could savor the taste of chocolate mixed with his lover's. They lost themselves in the kiss, forgetting everything, forgetting the conflict that had brought them here.

They would have time to discuss and dissect what had happened, to learn from their mistakes. For now, they were content to celebrate their reconciliation and love with Kit Kat and kisses. The time for bitterness was over and it was time for sweetness.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

[skylarmoon71]

Timeless Wells (Flash) - Speedster Chapter 8

The time leading up was spent searching for you.

The team was on edge for good reason.

“I got her! She’s just outside of Central City.”

When Cisco pulled up the map the room was a bit tense.

“Boss, that’s a power plant.” Chuck stated.

It seems this was worse than he thought. Who knows what destruction you could cause tapping into the speedforce.

“I have to stop her.”

Barry didn’t even give them a chance to form a proper plan. He was gone in seconds. When he pulled up to the plant, your back was facing him. He wasn’t sure how you knew. You just started laughing.

“If it isn’t Barry Allen, the most self righteous man around.”

You finally turned. Although the glow was no longer present in your eyes, he could physically feel the level of your resentment for him. Standing there was like looking at a reflection of himself again. Just like with Savitar.

“You’re not some evil mastermind, okay. I should have believed you when you first said it. But I was angry. At Eobard, at you. I just wanted something to take my anger out. But you’re not like him or me. You’re different. You’re good. Hurting the city isn’t going to make you feel any less alone.”

“I don’t care much for your speech.”

Just like that the glow returns.

“I’m here to prove you right, just like you intended.”

Barry sees the lightning generated in your hands and you direct it straight at the power plant. The mass of electricity hits the building. Barry expects an explosion, but your electricity seems to bounce right back. You drop to your knees with a scream, but you aren’t stopping.

The alarms are blaring, but he still stands his ground.

“I’ll do what..you were afraid to..” 

You force out the words.

It becomes apparent to him that you weren’t here to send some surge into the city, but to yourself.

Barry grits his teeth, rushing forward. He runs directly in front of the red streak of lightning. His body takes the large bolt and your eyes widen when the attack is no longer rushing through your chest. He grabs you, forcing his body out of the way. You both crash to the ground, rolling at a distance when the residual currents hit the ground. It dissipates in the air and the flashing of the alarms that had gone off previously have all shut down.

Barry looks down at your unconscious body under him, dropping his head on the ground with a heavy groan.

~~~

His return to Star Labs brings relief. His suit is a mess, so are your clothes, but you’re both still alive.

He places you unto the bed in the med bay.

He can’t shake the feeling in his stomach. He’d never driven someone to take their own life. Not once had he ever truly questioned his character until this point. He had no right calling himself a hero. Because the one person he should have felt the greatest need to help was you.

“Barry.”

He turns at that voice.

Harrison Wells.

He walks right through the entrance and Cisco moves closer.

“Timeless Wells?”

None of them had called him.

“Sorry to show up on such short notice, but I was called here. I’m not sure how, but something tells me it has something to do with the woman unconscious in your lab.” His gaze moved to your form.

Barry removed his burnt cowl, head lowered.

“This is all my fault.”

He leaned against the table and Iris was at his side. They were all gathered there, ready to help in any way they could.

Harrison shook his head. 

“It’s nobody's fault.”

“You shouldn’t lie to him.” 

Barry stiffened at your voice. You were lifting off the bed, standing as you fixed your gaze on Barry. You walked forward, stretching your limbs.

“Brought me back to clear your conscience Barry.”

You were now standing at the entrance of med bay.

“I’m a monster, and I’m tired of trying to prove otherwise. “

Your glare was fixed on all the members of team flash. Even the now present Harrison Wells. Possibly the only person who didn’t wear an expression of fear, regret or guilt.

“I don’t believe that.” Harrison responds.

He sounded so sure.

You moved forward quicker than anyone could. When you stood with a vibrating hand aimed right at Harrison’s chest, everyone froze.

“I’m a cold blooded killer. Isn’t that right Barry?”

The glow of your eyes was one he’d seen countless times in his nightmares from Eobard.

Despite everyone’s clear panic, Harrison didn’t look phased or frightened. His empathetic gaze was aimed right at you. When he moved to take a step, you gritted your teeth.

“STOP.”

He heeds no warning, reaching out and placing his hand on your wrist. The vibrating stops the moment he makes contact.

“You’re just scared and hurt. You’re not a killer. Even with all you said, you purposely went to a location far away from civilians. The only person you wanted to hurt was yourself. “

There's a spec of emotion present, despite their inability to see your pupils. You don’t look as sure. When the red begins to filter out of your irises, you can just stare.

“You just wanted someone to believe in you, trust you.”

Your eyes begin to well up, and when the tears start flowing, Barry knows that he’s to blame. You left your entire life behind to another universe after your own had let you down. All you wanted was a small sign of compassion from them. That’s all you asked for and he’d failed you.

Both as law enforcement and a hero.

Innocent until proven guilty.

When had he lost sight of that?

They all stood there and watched you break down.

Barry could say nothing.

[dancedance-resolution]

low punctuation posting

i don’t know what’s wrong with me, maybe burn out??? bc i’m filling my life with seratonin boosting activities but i feel fucking done and angry all the time and it’s not the pmdd i literally felt like through through my period and the week after now so like What Is It. i think it’s been going on since the beginning of the month, maybe longer but i only let myself acknowledge and notice it recently. HMM. ugh it’s frustrating im not supposed to be depressed i was doing so well for so long what the fuck is going on!!! do i need to up my meds dose bc i don’t know if i want to risk the side effects getting worse again also idk i kind of don’t want to im too tired for this shit that’s why this is all so frustrating i mean im posting like it’s past my bedtime but im well rested and it’s a reasonable hour and on paper i had a great day so like bitch WHAT. WHY. UGH.

i don’t know what i’d be burnt out from though i barely spend much time on school work im only at work work 20ish hours a week and it’s been going well and easy and ive been doing fun things but also leaving myself enough time to rest and waste time on youtube and tumblr so like AGAIN. WHAT. i just want to stop feeling like shit for no good reason and my brain is like well find the reason and fix it but i can’t find it that’s the issue which is so frustrating bc it’s pride month and i want to take advantage of the time i have and savor it etc etc and it’s not even like im putting a ton of pressure on myself for that either yk so ugh idk

i’m also afraid of being straight which is hilarious but also depressing and indicative of larger issues i suppose but im pretty sure unrelated to the shitty mood or at the very least not its cause

i need to do something very stimulating like bust my ear drum or get a super painful tattoo or scrape my knee and run my fingers over the scabs i think or a go in a cold pool ugh FUCK FUCK FUCK

[unknwnxquantity]

I’m being called to write about this! This is about resentment

Idk if I’ll make this short or I’ll add onto it. Theres so much to talk about.

Resentment. People pleasing. I’ve done so much for other ppl. Especially in my love life. I’ve betrayed myself so much. I’m burnt out now. I’ve kept a lot of peace and held back. I’d apologize to make the other person feel better and ofc I’d validate their experience. But I feel I wouldn’t stick up for mine. Not as much as I should’ve. I feel me not sticking up for myself is partly due to feeling a lack of outrage and anger. I have a whole other entry about anger that I talk about. Maybe I’ll publish it one day. Maybe I’ll keep it in my drafts for myself. Finally being able to TAP INTO the anger after over two decades and a half of not being able to express my anger outwardly to those who deserved it, or at least transmuted in a way that expressed my boundaries and a “don’t fuck with me I’m not a fucking pushover” energy. That’s a whole other topic. I’ve been suchhhh a pushover. I’m at a place where I respectfully or disrespectfully put ppl in their place. Depends on how triggered I am. Depends on the consequences. It’s trickier in the work place. Even more tricky in a household where you paid no bills in.

Anywayssss🤪 I’m at a point where I feel so much resentment. I’ve been somewhat angry at the world even tho I know better. I’m tired of giving. I’m tired of feeling anxious and if someone’s upset my mind spirals, my *previous* anxious attachment style… I feel I’m becoming avoidant now 😔💔 would be super triggered and I’d go in circles, miles a min about, playing all these different scenarios in my head about how I could make the situation better for the other person. To alleviate (I just learned how to spell that word correctly) their sadness or anger or confusion. I’d rush to the rescue. Id drop everything I’m doing and run to them to try and help the situation. Literally run. Commute. Uber. Going in circles tryna get the perfect gift(s). be the perfect person. Birthdays anniversaries Christmas. You’re in debt now. Everyone even told you save your money! Don’t go all out! They understand money is tight. And yet now you’re resentful for what you gave THAT YOU CHOSE TO GIVE! Theres so much pressure now to get the best gift, the best diy… I’d give and give, and people please. I was used to being selfish when I was younger in terms of taking gifts/food/etc and not giving back, that now being an adult I try to overly compensate. But when you think about it, people pleasing is selfish. It’s self serving to you, to make YOU feel better about the situation. Sometimes it’s okay for ppl to be upset with you. For them to not have the answer. You don’t have to work your brain into overdrive! It’s a nice gesture but at the end of the day, it roots back to selfish reasons to alleviate YOUR OWN discomfort. Crazyyyyyy. Then you set an expectation from those around you to keep picking up their pieces. Until you have nothing left to give. It can take you years, decades to reach a breaking point. It could be a dramatic breaking point, or a calming point of like “wait… I actually don’t have it in me to do it. I’m tapped out. I can’t do it anymore”. And then you start getting upset at other ppl… for your own behavior!!! They’re still a good person and yet why do you feel these mixed emotions toward them. Youre not as nice anymore. You start lacking empathy. You start lashing out more easily. Becoming slightly more vengeful. Yet you set yourself up for this! It’s not their fault you people pleased and betrayed your own self. It’s your fault. Now you need to pick up your own pieces and figure out… what do my boundaries even look like? It sucks…. Bc the ppl you betrayed yourself for, you start to associate them with that resentment. They didn’t really do anything technically. Sucks even more when they’re a beautiful person and they mean good. Like they’re the whole package. They have their own traumas and angers. They’re still figuring it out too. And they’re like what happened? What did I do? And then they’re like well I’m resentful too! What about me???.. They don’t deserve that. Another gray area of life. Another side journey, another phase. It passes you now, but what do you do with the people around you that you have this pent up anger toward? Do you wanna work through it bc they’re worth it, or are things just fading out gradually? What is it you need to do? Is it too late, did you reach a point of no return? Are the feelings still enough to salvage and work through? Every dynamic has a phase, endless phases.. no one really talks about that. Is this a part of the phases no one talks about in long term situations? Do you push through and hopefully you heal your resentment and can be a better person for yourself and them?How do you heal and release all these feelings? I guess that’s what I’m doing with these entries. Remember you’re doing the best you can with what you know, so be easy on yourself.. or are you really?

My break is about to be over. My minds blanking now. I’ll leave as is

Funny enough hours later, “that’s on me” by Mac miller comes up on shuffle on my playlist. And from what I talked about.. it applies. I love when a song brings a new meaning to you. So now I guess whenever I hear the song, I’ll think of this entry. And vice versa

[everything-i-couldnt-tell-u]

you know that time when i said i wanted to feel safe with you

it wasnt because i wanted to have someone i can run to or go home to

it wasnt because i wanted you to be my safe place for me

i just wished that i could feel safe with you so i'd be able to love you to the fullest, without holding back

the things you did that i got angry at wasnt really because i got hurt

i was just really frustrated since you kept giving me reasons that push me to stop loving you

if you make me feel like you dont want me then that tells me i shouldn't be bothering you with my love, cause you might not want anyway?

i got tired. i wasn't burnt out from loving you too much. i had so much love i wanted to give you but i couldn't. in fear that you won't want it, in fear that you won't take it seriously, in fear that you use it against me unintentionally. i was tired from the amount of confusion i felt, not knowing if i can still love you or not.

i was mad at you for breaking my trust, not because i felt betrayed. it broke me into pieces cause how was i supposed to love you now that i'm scared? what was i to do with all the love i still want to give you but can't? it hurts so much because it felt like you gave me a reason to stop loving you. the way you broke it easily so many times made me feel like you were showing i wasn't worth much for you.

whenever i wanted to feel like i was worth something to you, it wasn’t because i was fishing for something to feed my self esteem. i was desperate to know if i was worth enough to you, if the love i'd give would even be worth anything to you. i needed a sign that it'd be okay to love you.

i hated it whenever i got hurt cause every time that happened, i get more and more scared until im not able to love you freely like before anymore. i wasnt mad at how i got hurt, i hated how it hinders me from being able to express my love. giving you my love requires me to be vulnerable and how could i be vulnerable when i dont feel safe with you? i want to give you my heart but i know it will kill me again if you don't handle it properly

every time i get this urge to say something to you, to initiate something, to do something, i get stopped. i feel this lump on my throat, my chest cramps once i remember how you kept saying and doing things that looked like you don't want me. it feels like shit whenever i stop myself from loving you cause i get this thing in my head reminding me of the words you said. it tells me that i'd be stupid if i still force you to accept my love after all you've shown.

you know, i don't even know if you at least like me. you say you do but i never really got clear answers. i dont know what about me you even like, if there is even anything about me that you like? but maybe i'll never know answers to my question. last time i asked, what did i get? i'd be stupid if i ever try asking those questions again. you already cursed me and made it clear that my questions are too much for you and you always can't answer, what more do i need to know?

i always dont know. i dont know what you even plan to do with me, maybe you don't really have any. all i know right now is that you're having fun with idv whatever. i try but im scared that im not good enough with listening when you rant about that. ive been trying but i think i cant do well enough. i think my replies might be too dry for you. eventually ive been getting drier and drier cause i'm scared that it won’t really mean anything even if i tried. i really wanted to play mc or ponytown with you cause its the only game i could really play, but you seem to find idv more fun. i wouldn't want to disturb you from it

i dont know what else to say now

[tommyxgrace-always]

Symbolism in peaky is exclusively around Tommy. The horses, swan, the sapphire, photos are all portrayed via Tommy. So the same goes with the cage too. In the shot we see him go in and out of the cage but that cage also has two birds. And the set up is in ruby’s room with lizzie waiting in the cage, ready to flee. The above description you posted from another person is summarising the same idea I was trying to explain. Tommy is caged in that marraige with Lizzie because he wants different things. They have different needs. Tommy is burdened with his trauma, his regret for hurting his family and his mission to change the world for better. He wants to redeem himself of his sins but to do it, he will have no limitations and he is afraid he will hurt people. Same thing was quoted in s5 with Ada “when he tries to do good, innocents get hurt”. Which again points to why that marriage had to break. Lizzie wants him to leave everything and live up a mountain, that is not going to help him grow. He will continue to riddle in his chaos of he has nothing to work towards.

This is my last response to you too. We fundamentally disagree on the idea about tommy and lizzie. My view is they are over for good. There is no potential of getting back together because it is pointless and serves no purpose anymore. They were caged in a marriage where neither of them was fulfilled. And I agree symbolism is at multiple points. Throughout s6, there is a recurring theme of their hands break away at various points, that also foreshadowed the break up. Also as you said, they did not part in anger or resentment. It was just acceptance. Lizzie must be disgusted at one point but she looked like she finally accepted the fate and is not angry. She looks tired when she speaks.

I also understand your point about growth but they grew diagonally. Tommy went from treating her like a property and insulting her to respecting and caring for her as a wife and mother of his children (although not let her in like a true partner). Whereas Lizzie went from blindly loving him and being submissive to calling him out as a bullshit husband who needs to get his act together. But now they are stagnant and growing together is not possible because they have differing priorities for the future.

The burning of the vardo- I don’t agree with this one. Its a standalone reference. Tommy’s old life is burnt and he will rise like a phoenix through the ashes. No reference to cage, in-fact he is free from it all.

Basis of their marraige- I think Ruby was the primary reason for marraige but I do see the other things you mentioned. Cillian said he married her for loyalty. I think her reliability, familiarity with his business and family and trustworthiness made her the ideal candidate for a convenience marraige. Tommy was not looking for love again. But he did want a mother for Charlie (parallels with John and his reason to marry lizzie). I think Tommy saw her as one of his henchmen like Johny dogs. He would trust them with his life. Tommy also ordered whores in front of lizzie and chases May, so i think he likes her and values her but also was never commited or showed any real feelings for her. After marriage we do not hear of Lizzie’s activeness in the business. She is part of the board because of shelby name just like linda but i think she is full time mother. Thats why I said Ruby was her only connection to Tommy and she was her strength to carry on when Tommy is aloof and secretive.

Linda made a choice to leave. The attempt to kill arthur was in frustration and anger over her friend being attacked. But we see from the start how serious linda was getting to leave him. And after arthur is saved, she does CHOOSE to leave.

The three birds- I completely disagree on leaving out lizzie. They all have bad marriages, call it abusive, manipulative or troubled but they are all facing issues. Arthur and Linda do not have a history of abuse, Arthur does get angry but we have seen him treat linda tenderly for many many years. While he physically intimidates her, Tommy is no less. The “my property” scene was utterly toxic. Many lizzie fans view it romantically but its a highly unequal dynamic. The reason we didn’t see tommy getting too physical is because lizzie is submissive, she wasn’t standing up to her decision like linda was. They both write the letters and contemplated divorce but lizzie backtracked. We did not even get a true reaction from tommy before she submitted herself. His expressions and throwing her in bed showed his intimidation. Lizzie and Linda both made choices. Possessives something tommy also showed through Mosley so i think that was a regular husband reaction for them. Lastly, the reason i said the three birds are a foreshadow is because s6 and s7 changed drastically after helen. Maybe in original script, its another person who was supposed to die.

I also disagree that Diana coerced Tommy to sleep with him. Tommy had a choice. He could have chosen to not do it to go back to his wife. But he chose to go ahead because his primary focus was poor people. Also Tommy continued to sleep with prostitutes and the show made it clear by showing it in the first episode of the season. To me it was done deliberately to show that Tommy may be doing his husband duties but he still not committed to lizzie as a husband.

Swan symbolism - Swan symbolism is about Grace and it is exclusively stated by the production team and steven knight himself. Throughout s5, swan represents Grace. The ballet about love also showed tommy and grace’s story. Even though Linda was parallelly shown, we could see it in Tommy’s expression that he was thinking of Grace. Grace’s breadth is also heard in the background when the swan is about to be shot. Grace’s ghost is a representation of his dark thoughts and declining mental health. Ut it also represents how he longs for her and the void she left was never filled.

Singing like songbirds- interpret however you want. Diana relieving herself on tommy or the other way around. My point was it does lead to the break up. For lizzie, it is Tommy who betrayed her. Many fans like to blames diana or mosleys to break them up. Just like they blame grace or grace’s ghost to say tommy cannot love lizzie. But i think its bullshit. Tommy is his own man who makes his choices. He whores himself if needed to get what he wants. When the mosleys test him physically, he decides to do whatever they say. Not because he is coerced but because he has a bigger end goal. He eventually got what he wanted. But lizzie felt betrayed because she expects him to be a different man than who he is.

Billy grade scene - my point was lizzie finally accepted who he is. I understand its not a new revelation but lizzie still had an idea of him. That someday he will leave all the lies and rest with her in the mountains. She even says “we dont need more money, we have enough” again pointing to some disillusionment that tommy will leave everything to flee with her because they have enough money. He calls himself cursed but lizzie was trying to talk him out or distract him. But she gave up now and accepted that he is cursed, never to be around other people.

It does related to finn more. Finn is family. The Shelby’s have a strong protective instinct when it cane to family. So even though he was neglected by his brothers. Finn was still expected to be loyal to family. As a Shelby he has enjoyed privileges in life and he should have been responsible to make the right choice.

the motif around the caged songbird is not about lizzie and tommy's ultimately doomed/unhappy/futile marriage, you actually have to take into account that it's a reoccuring one and when and how it shows up in the show to make proper sense of it and why it's used in that scene between them in the finale

[ignis-writes]

BLOOD SPRITE

Pairing: August Walker × Female Reader

Summary: When the period comes by without warning to ruin your plans for the night, August takes charge.

Pov: Second person pov

Warnings: Period Sex!!! Actually fingering, but descriptions of blood, period, fingering, and orgasm. Just stay away if it bothers you. <did I miss something?>

Author's note: I’m not an experienced writer and this work is not BETA’d. Plus, English is not my first language so watch out for obvious mistakes.  Period horny made me do this. please comment, I wanna know what you think about it.

Plus: Do not plagiarize/translate my work. I do not own August Walker or Mission Impossible franchise

You were angry, frustrated and in the right mood to slam somebody's head to the nearest flat surface. The chances of the said somebody being yourself was good too. Period was a bitch in its own right, but with pcos it was the demon who swore to cut you open with a chainsaw. Nothing felt right when the pain screened into your cells with a venomous war cry.  Your hips and back felt like it was just dry sand falling apart in slow motion. Stumbling your toe by the fridge right now was just enough reason to break down crying on the floor. 

And to cry, you had more reasons. The unannounced entry of your period after 5 months of abandoning you ruined the plans for a good night with August. You made plans to cook for the little domestic date planned for the day, and after dinner you  had other plans too. 

But sprawling over the cold floor all hopeless and tired with burnt steak and a messy kitchen you mused at what could have been a night of some rough hot love making. It's been a few long weeks since you both had some time with each other, his schedule took him around the globe for days on end and his job, (whatever that was…) had the habit of getting dangerous. So he never took you with him while he was working, but until quite recently he found time to snatch you away from the world and spend days and nights in some private spot where it was just you and him. Things weren't quite the same this time.  Now with periods showing up with the fury hellfire and cramps hormones and cramps unleashing the chaos of a high ranking demon your weekend was ruined already. 

You didn't notice August entering the kitchen with quiet steps, he scooped you up in his strong arms, switched off the stove and took you to your bedroom. 

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

"Honey, how about you tell daddy what happened....i'm sure we can fix, whatever it is" he explained in a soft soothing voice while wiping a stray tear out of your face.  

"Daddy..." Sitting over the bathroom slabs that's all you could wail before the rushed sobs took over, you grabbed onto his shirt with all the might you had and started sobbing harder. He said nothing much but gently started rocking you in his arms. When your breath felt slower and closer to normal again, you explained how the blood sprite came over for a visit and how things just felt so painful and wrong as your plans for a good time went down the drain with some blood and tears . 

"I wanted you tonight...I missed you so much, Gus. I hate how everything got ruined, it's been so long since we got some time to be with each other and it's all wrecked because of my uterus being a bitch"

He said nothing but smiled. He liked how his shy lil girl got worked up easily and wanted her daddy to comfort her always. 

"you know we can still do it right? " he asked with a smirk that said more than the words did.  

"what.. uhh... It's gonna be all messy daddy. You won't like it. " you muttered in the lowest pitch, but the tiniest glint of hope it showed didn't go invisible by his prying eyes.

What was going on with you? On a normal day you would be so embarrassed and mortified to say anything but right now...you didn't know nothing but a primal need blooming right beneath your chest and a sweet ache craving attention between your legs.  

He placed you on the cold marble and stood between your legs running his hands up the flimsy fabric of your pale pink dress. His face inched closer to yours while the other hand held your jaw in a tight grip. 

"Shh...trust me my lil dove, you will love it. Just sit back and enjoy all daddy gives you... Relax and let it go, baby, don't think about the mess or blood or anything… Let daddy take care of this lil cranky girl. " 

He didn't bother with your dress but just slipped his hand inside to remove the soft cotton underwear you had on along with the cup. He was slow and careful about it, not to scare you or hurt you since you were extra sensitive around there during these days. But all you could do was move your hips closer while his hands gently pulled the cup out and drained it into the sink. God, you were so desperate... And as soon as it was out August had his hands sneaking up your thighs again. 

"Omg it's gonna be blood everywhere" you gripped in concern

"no there won't be."

 He assured you not  breaking eye contact. Something about the way he talked said he was enjoying this as much as you were. He possessed the confidence of experience that you lacked,  but that was okay. You trusted him to make it good for both of you. 

His hand worked its way massaging your thighs to rubbing smooth circles in your clit. While his thumb massaged your Pearl his fingers drifted to part your petals. They were already drenched from blood and arousal, all you could do was close your eyes and whisper his name. Your fingers nailed into his shoulder as his two fingers slithered in your wet hot cave with the steady familiarity and gentleness of a devoted lover. His thick digits pulled in and out with passion for a few more times while you rolled your head back in pleasure. The pain was nowhere to be seen now that warmth and a familiar knot grew deeper inside you. You were nothing but a red hot mess in his arms. But he was holding back...right when you were so desperate to take all he had to give, he kept driving you closer and farther through different levels of ecstasy . 

"daddy...." you whined, losing the syllables to the thick air of sweat and wanton need. 

You were too deep in the filthy euphoria to care much now. Oh, but August was enjoying it. Savoring the sight of his hands drenched in your blood and arousal and your lips parted in steamy gasps chanting his name like your life depended on it. 

" Say it again, dove...say what you want. 

You already locked up shame and any false sense of chastity when you agreed to let him take off your panties, you might as well beg like a whore if that's what it takes to get the relief your body begged so dearly. 

" daddy please....let. Me...cum" most of it wavered in moans and gasps as he continued pumping his thick digits into your sacred spot but now he drew out his hands which made you feel empty again. Before you could comprehend or complain, he dived in again with his thumb circling your hidden pearl and his fingers pursuing the deep spot which made you see fireworks in the back of your head. It shattered all chains of shame and pain as you came hard on his hand. 

You didn't see much blood or mess as he scooped you up for a hot bath before you could descend from the peak of ecstasy and left to clean up the kitchen and order some takeout. He came back when you were all done and dressed in his old shirt and boxers. August loved it when you wore his clothes. It assured him you were all his and his only. It smelled like him, like his sweat and perfume. The kind of fragrance that you linked to the feeling of home.

“So…you seemed to enjoy it just fine, lil dove. How about we try something more huh?”  He said  as you cuddled upon his chest by the couch. Maybe the night wasn't so ruined after all. 

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

tags 🖤

@cynic-spirit @angelmather1 @calwitch

[shangchiswife]

kylo ren- the last time

summary: you've had enough of being treated poorly by kylo

kylo ren x gn!reader

warnings: cursing

Dealing with Kylo was like dealing with a toddler at times. He had serious anger issues and whenever he'd come back home to you he'd take all his fury out on you.

It was a particularly cold evening so you decided to make a warm meal that night for yourself and Kylo.

You hummed as you stirred a pot filled with chicken, vegetables, and soup. It simmered on the stove in front of you.

The door to your quarters slammed open as Kylo came in, clearly furious.

You turned around to face him as you saw him throw down his mask resulting in a loud bang. 

You turned back to your soup as you stirred it.

Whenever he was in a mood you never wanted to bother him and make him even more upset.

"Well aren't you going to say hello to your boyfriend?" you heard Kylo growl from behind you.

You turned around to give him a weak smile.

"Hi, Kylo. The only reason I didn't say hi to you was because you're clearly upset," you explained as he scoffed.

You absolutely hated it when he was like this. Making you feel horrible for no reason.

"Sometimes you're just so dense, Y/N," Kylo ran a hand through his dark hair as he stared at you. His usually warm brown eyes were cold as they glared at you.

You said nothing as you tried to hold your tongue desperately wanting to fight back but then you exploded.

"You know what, Kylo I'm done with your bullshit. I just made you soup right now because I know it's been a long day for you and I wanted to be a good partner but you're just always fucking angry. I try so hard to put up with you but it's just so hard. One moment you're smiling at me and then the next you're screaming at me and I don't know why. I just can't take this anymore," you yelled as you placed your head in your hands.

You stared at Kylo who looked as if you just slapped him.

"Don't look at me like the victim. We all know who the victim is in this relationship so quit the pouting. I'm so sick and tired of you," you sneered as you stared into his brown eyes.

You remembered when you first entered the relationship thinking that you were already hurt so you couldn't be hurt more. 

How wrong you were.

Kylo's lip trembled as he stared at your frustrated form.

He looked extremely crushed.

This reaction just fueled your anger.

"You know what I don't deserve this," you said suddenly as you went to your shared bedroom and tossed a suitcase, and started grabbing all of your clothes.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as he walked over to your room with long strides.

"I'm leaving because I deserve better than someone as selfish as you," you said as you tossed your toiletries into the suitcase.

"But...but," he stuttered as you zipped up the bag and started pulling it out of the room.

"But nothing Kylo, goodbye enjoy my burnt soup. I'm coming back tomorrow to get my stuff but that's it," you cut him off as you stormed out of his quarters without a second glance.

Kylo could feel his heart break into two.

Not only was he romantically attached to you but he was also emotionally attached to you.

And now you were gone.

[astroboots]

Coming Home Part 1 of 2

Summary: Santi misses home. During a visit to Frankie and his wife's new home, he overhears them in an intimate moment.

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x female reader x Frankie Morales

Warnings: explicit sex, angst, swearing. MMF Threesome ahoy, M/M & M/F dynamics, talk dirty to me, accidental voyeurism.

Word count: 5.6k words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

Santiago doesn’t like coming back home.

It wasn’t always this way. In the final days leading up to the end of his first deployment he was counting down the days. He daydreamed of sleeping in his own bed; eating his mom’s home cooked meals; and being surrounded by family in the house he grew up in.

But back home, things were different from what he imagined it would be. His bed no longer felt like his own, the mattress too soft, the quilt too heavy. He had become too accustomed to prepackaged meals in the army. When his mom cooked him his favorite meal, his tongue burnt from the spices and his cousin teased him for getting gringo’d. He’d laughed along but after the jokes went on for far too long it started to sting.

In a landslide of little moments, home stopped feeling like home. The only way he knew how to make that feeling stop was to go away again where he could do some good. It became a recurring pattern in his life; to go away and miss home when he wasn’t there. Only to come home and regret being there. His only consolation was that “back home” is where his mother was. She was always there no matter how far away he went.

She was there when he was so overwhelmed that brushing his own teeth seemed like a Herculean task. There, when he was so exhausted his bones felt hollowed out. Always there when he was angry and done. Her presence reminded him that he was home, even if his brain tried to tell him otherwise.

Then she died.

He was in Myanmar when he found out. Ears ringing and knees creaking, after he'd spent seven hours crouched in a helicopter. 10,000 feet up in the air with god knows how many millions dollars at his feet to be delivered to some corrupt government official. At the end of that mission he felt disillusioned, tired, done. Ready to go home. He’d texted his friends and family, to let them know his flight and ETA. But when he passed the arrival gate there were no banners with his name on it.

He remembers standing at the arrival hall, wondering if he should just hail a cab or stick around on the off-chance his friends and family were just running late. It’s how he ended up waiting for 2 hours and 13 minutes before he gave up and paid for an overpriced cab to the nearest airport hotel.

Nowadays he doesn't bother to text anyone.

His brothers and sisters are all scattered across different states. He’s no longer part of a regiment. Now, when he comes home, there are no crowds. No big U.S. flags that are being waved next to banners. There are no signs held by exuberant families, not even his own. When he comes “home”, he’s put on a commercial plane like the rest of the civilians. He goes through security clearance and then takes a taxi to his hotel by himself.

Santi tells himself he likes it that way. It’s quiet. Peaceful. For once he gets a moment to himself. He’s allowed to breathe for a few days before people somehow find out he’s home and he has to put on a big smile and the old charm for everyone else.

But he’d be lying if he didn't admit it feels a little bit lonely, looking up over the little divider of the arrival gate. There’s always a part of him that’s expecting to see his family and instead all he sees are the family of others greeting their loved ones.

Santi doesn’t like coming back home. Because there is no home left for him to return to.

Hell, the only reason he even bothers returning to Florida, is because the guys live here. Them and a handful of old civilian friends that are still around, like you, which as sad as it sounds is the closest he has that passes for a family now.

But it’s not the same. His old team from the military has retired and forged a new life so different from his own. Redfly has become a real estate agent since retirement. Ironhead does motivational speeches at the VA. Benny does semi-illegal MMA fighting round the circuit. Fish is busy playing house with his new wife.

And then there’s you, his oldest friend, who still hangs around this sorry ass neighbourhood, busy playing house with your husband, and being the newly minted mrs. Morales.

In retrospect, Santi probably should have come home sooner for a visit and not let two years go by the way it did. But he didn’t want to burst your happy honeymoon bubble. You had both looked so happy in the photos you had sent him. Happy and busy, too busy for him to bother you.

But lately, the itch was gnawing at him again. That clawing of homesickness in his gut had become unbearable, and the usual distractions did nothing to make it go away. So he decided he was due for a visit home.

He’d hesitated on texting the gang to let them know. Because here’s the stupid thing about pride. Everyone could be too busy to reply. He could be left waiting. It’s the Schrödinger's friendship paradox. If he doesn’t tell anyone, he can still live in the plausible deniability that it isn’t that his friends can’t be bothered— they just didn’t know he was back to begin with.

In the end Santi opts for the cowardly compromise. He doesn’t text the group. Instead he sends a sole cryptic text to Frankie asking if he’s going to be in town the upcoming weekend.

Even though it’s past midnight in Florida, Santi gets a reply almost instantly: Yes. Why?

The two word response makes Santi smile. The man is not much of a texter.

Santi doesn’t even have time to respond to the first text because seconds later he gets another. Not from Fish, but from you. What’s your flight number?

He finds himself smiling even wider at that.

It’s a three and half hour flight from Bogotá to Florida. When Santi steps out of the sliding door to exit the secure area of the arrival hall there’s an obnoxious looking pink sign with his name spelled in glitter.

You’re standing at the front, grinning from ear to ear, looking very proud of yourself. Frankie is next to you, holding balloons with a sheepish expression that says, it was her idea. At the sight of you two, Santi finds himself exhaling a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding.

The two of you look ridiculous, like you’re here to pick up your kid from Summer camp. As soon as he’s within reach, you throw your arms around him in a hug so tight it nearly pops his lungs like a balloon. He barely has the breath to force out his next next words.

“I’m not getting into the car unless you throw away that sign,” Santi huffs into your hairline.

You act as if you didn’t hear him say it at all, just hugging him even closer to you. He means to bitch about the sign some more, but your voice in his ear, warm and soft, makes him smile all over again.

“Welcome home Santi.”

The new house you and Frankie bought is nice.

The exterior isn’t much to look at. It’s just another run down farm house that is so common out of the city. Supposedly you’re in the middle of renovating, but when Santi walks in for the first time to drop off his things in the guest room, it looks perfectly fine to him.

The hallway is painted in a deep moss green, Frankie’s favourite color. The living room furniture is oversized enough to accommodate Frankie, but in the style Santi knows you’ve always favored. There's even a classic swing on the back porch, just like the one his mother used to have. So it's no wonder that Santi's first reaction is that this house feels like a home.

When Santi makes his way out into the yard, he sees Frankie working on the shabby looking reclaimed window frames that were going to be installed in the house. You’d talked about it on the car ride over, and Santi had promised he’d help. But let's face it Frankie is the handy one. Santi doesn’t do handiwork, and he has no interest in picking wood splinters out of his palms all week.

Instead, Santi and you end up spending most of that afternoon on the sidelines. The two of you are sitting on the porch swing like two old retired ladies with a cold bottle of beer each. He regales you with tales of what Colombia was like. How there's this strange little bar on the other side of the border that “yes, yes — technically it's a brothel but that’s not what I was there for. They have the best and cheapest beer miles around.”

You don’t buy it, and you make no secret of that as you call him on his bullshit with a laugh. You always do. “Uhuh, and in 1997 Eddie Murphy was just giving his nice prostitute friend a ride home.”

“I don’t know why you have to make this sound so seedy. It’s a nice little local bar. Not like the rest of the tourist traps. You would have loved the place.”

“Yes, titties and glitter are my two favorite things in the world. You know me so well Santi,” you deadpan.

Santi chuckles then gives a small push with his feet, setting the swing into gentle motion. He can’t help the smile stretching his cheeks at how familiar this all feels. “Y’know, we used to have a swing just like this in mamá’s old house.”

He looks up to see you staring at him flatly, as if he has just said the dumbest thing in the world.

“What?” Santi asks.

“I know you did, dumbass. Why do you think we got one like it? Do you know how hard this was to find? They don’t make them anymore. We had to buy this one off of some weird pothead on Craigslist. Frankie spent weeks refurbishing it.”

"Oh. huh." Warmth spreads out in Santi's chest, and he peers at you, trying to decide if there's supposed to be some sort of meaning behind that gesture.

The sun starts to set behind your shoulders. It bathes your features in a shimmering gold. You’re smiling at him with such warmth it makes him have to look away for a moment under the guise of taking another sip of beer. All of a sudden, it tastes sweeter on his tongue than before.

Santi looks to Frankie, but he doesn’t appear to be paying attention to the conversation. Unlike the two of you, Frankie is diligent and doesn't get sidetracked as easily. He’s still hard at work, stripping the old sealant and paint from the old window frames. His large hands working over the wood and he displays a remarkable gentle care. Franke takes his time with the details, and Santi can't help but stare a bit at the way his sleeves are pushed to his forearms. The way the muscles, softer than they used to be in their military days, flex underneath the fabric.

When Santi finally drags his eyes away, he sees you observing him quietly with an unreadable expression. His hands burn in his lap, like he was caught shoplifting at a convenience store. The only way that he knows how to deal with that is to throw a disparaging joke at Frankie’s expense.

“It’s painful watching how slow you are. Why don’t you just rip it out and throw it away?”

Frankie doesn’t look up, eyes still focused on the task before him, as he replies. “These frames are solid wood and they rarely build them like this anymore.”

“Isn't that just another name for old? Just admit you’re being a cheapskate, hermano, and get some new fucking windows.”

You hiccup a bright laugh that rings pleasantly in Santi’s ears. Bold and boundless, it’s the same sound he thinks of when he’s away and it gets him by whenever he’s homesick.

Turning away from the window, Frankie flashes Santi the middle finger. Then it’s followed by a boyish smile that crinkles in the corner of his eyes and— yeah... Santi's definitely missed that too.

Sitting in the afternoon warmth of your garden, he’s reminded of how pleasant the Florida sun can be. Not unforgiving and scorching, like so many other places Santi’s been to. The air here is light. If everyday could be just like this, he would never tire. Moments like this makes him wonder why he ever left at all.

“Frankie, why don’t you take a break,” you ask.

Tilting his head, Frankie surveys his work and as if satisfied with his progress so far, he turns around and comes over to you two.

You're holding out your beer to him and Frankie takes it in his hands, grimy as they are with dissolved white paint, saw dust and sweat.

The man looks like he’s going to melt, and you stand up to remove Frankie’s beaten old cap. His brown locks spill out around it, damp and curled from the combination of heat and sweat. Your fingers thread into his hair, ruffling it like he’s a beloved family dog to provide him some relief from the heat.

Santi shifts uncomfortably, feeling like an intruder as he watches you tilt up just so and kiss the beardless patch on Frankie's jaw. His chest aches with something that feels almost like envy. He just doesn’t know which one of you he’s envious of. All of a sudden he remembers why he doesn't come back all that often.

Gulping down the rest of the beer, he really wishes he was drinking something much stronger that could burn away this ugly part of him that sits heavy on his chest. The part that can’t just be happy for the two most important people in his life.

The sun starts to set and the air gets chillier outside. From across him, you’re rubbing your arms. For a second Santi doesn’t know if you got stung by a mosquito or if you’re cold. Before he can ask, Frankie’s already got his jacket draped over your shoulders.

That’s Frankie for you.

Frankie sits down on the swings and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You burrow into his neck for warmth like a tiny forest critter.

Maybe it’s because Santi’s being uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe he’s making a funny face as he sits there looking at you two. But whatever it is, Frankie notices. It makes the man tilt his head again, this time, a worried frown burrowing between his brows. “You okay there Pope?”

He hums, slightly dazed. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

“I wouldn’t look so sad and worried if I were you,” Frankie says, with a grin that is so rare for others and so common for Pope to see. “Your greys are coming in nicely.”

It makes Santi crack up in a smile before he retorts, “fuck you, at least I’m still in shape.”

Reassured by Santi snapping back, Frankie starts talking about the house instead. He talks about all the plans the two of you have for it. How he’s erecting a wall in the second living room so it’ll have two extra bedrooms instead. “That way, Pope, you can come and visit whenever you want. This’ll be your retirement home. It should be done in about two months, right in time for your arthritis to kick in. We’ll get you one of those electric stair lifts so you don’t have to tear out your knees getting upstairs.”

Santi laughs into his beer. Fish can be such a little shit sometimes. “Chico feo, cállate. You’re just jealous I’m aging like fine wine. Why do you need so many bedrooms for anyway? Turn that into a rec room or something.”

Frankie shrugs his shoulders. “It’s better this way, we can easily convert it into a nursery later.”

The sentence drops like a grenade’s safety pin between them. It tears Santi from inside out, limb to limb until it lies somewhere discarded on the ground. But Frankie doesn’t seem to notice. He says it with such a casual tone as if the two of you have discussed this a hundred times before. Then Santi realizes, you probably have.

He was gone for two years and you went from newly married, to buying a house and now you’re thinking about kids. Next time he’ll be back, there’ll be a mini Francisco. With your eyes and Frankie’s hair. Not long after that there will probably be two of them. There’ll be no space for him here. The realisation sits in his guts and refuses to go away.

Santi swallows the remainder of his beer, and he doesn’t remember it tasting this sour and bitter before. He makes some off-handed joke, about how Frankie can finally justify that dad-bod and just prays that Frankie doesn’t notice that he’s sitting here feeling like he’s about to vomit. There must be some god in heaven, because Frankie chuckles at the joke and for all his attentiveness, does not notice.

You notice though. You’re looking straight at Santi. Eyes cutting into him like a scalpel, trying to figure out what’s wrong, looking for the abscess. He doesn’t want to stick around long enough for you to discover it’s rotten through to the core like spoiled fruit.

Santi gets on his feet, dusting off the legs of his jeans. “Alright guys. It’s getting late, I’m out. Gonna hit the sack.”

Frankie looks confused, and ducks his head to his watch. “Late? It’s 8pm Pope.”

“Yeah sorry, I’m jetlagged as shit.”

You fold your arms across your chest, eyes never leaving his. “It’s a one hour’s time difference in Colombia.”

“Plane ride over wiped me out. Had to sit next to a crying infant. Kids are the fucking worst. Kept me up the entire flight.”

Your eyes narrow at the kids comment, it was a shitty thing to say. On top of that, he knows you don’t buy that he’s tired. But he also knows there’s not much else you can say or do about it. You can’t exactly refuse to let him go to bed.

“I’ll show you the room,” you offer, rising to your feet.

“No.”

You stop midway at that, and Frankie gives him a strange look.

“Sit, stay,” Santi corrects, but Jesus now it just sounds like he is talking to you like you’re a dog. “I know where the room is. I got all my stuff there already.”

You don’t look happy, a tightlipped frown on your face, but you don’t make any further move to leave Frankie's lap. “Enjoy your cozy evening,” Santi murmurs as he turns to walk into the house. “I’ll see you both at breakfast in the morning.”

The bed in the guest room is too soft. It’s too wide, too unfamiliar. Santi can’t sleep.

The problem with heading to bed some four hours earlier than he’s used to is the guaranteed side effect of making Santi aware of just how not asleep he is. It’s an invitation for his brain to go on overdrive as he lies there for hours staring into the ceiling like a madman.

This is ridiculous. It’s not normal to behave like this. Normal people are happy for their friends and their happiness. He should be happy. His best friend married his other best friend and that’s great. It’s something that should be pitched as a sitcom. Should name it the Third Wheel, and the running gag would be that their old childhood friend constantly comes into town and never gets the hint that he’s overstaying his welcome.

He needs to stop. He’s not going to get any sleep like this.

01:13, his watch glows back at him in the dark.

With a heavy sigh, Santi kicks off the blanket. A glass of water. He’ll just get something to drink before he tries to sleep again.

Padding bare feet down the hallway, he tries to tread softly down the wooden stairs so as not to wake either of you. His hands grope the walls in the dark, until his eyes adjust. Then he makes out the end of the hallway and turns on a light in the kitchen.

Filling himself a glass of water, he surveys the space in front of him. A cozy farmhouse kitchen, with large wooden surfaces and a classic styled gas stove. It suits you both. He could see both of you in this kitchen. Frankie, rummaging through the cupboards in the middle of the night when his sweet tooth kicked in. You, trying to recreate some questionable recipe you found in an old magazine somewhere. There’s a warmth to the space that only comes with being lived in. It feels like a home.

He walks into the living room and even though it’s still a work in progress, there are already so many details that make it lived in. There’s soft looking cushions, knick-knacks, and framed photos of family members, and friends.

It’s childish of him, but Santi counts the photos on display to see how many he’s featured in. When he realizes that he’s in the majority of them (a total of dozen) more than any other friends (seven more than Ironhead, three more than Benny, though Molly is only one away from him) he feels like he’s won a prize.

There’s a framed photo sitting on the big sideboard. A wedding photo of Frankie and you having your first dance. You’re looking at each other as if the only person who exists in your world is the other. That snaps him right out of the reverie.

This house is definitely a home. But it’s your home, not Santi’s.

He should never have come. There’s no place for him here, you don’t need him and he’s just intruding.

He heads back upstairs when he hears the noises. Groans and almost whimpers - male ones - and he's pretty sure that’s Fish having a nightmare.

Santi wants to come and help. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle Frankie’s nightmares, but he's here and he figures a helping hand could be good if it's a bad one. From bitter experience Santi knows better than anyone that it’s not always an idyllic affair to be ripped awake from nightmares.

Stepping closer to the door, the groans sound muffled, and he hears you softly shushing Frankie. Maybe that means Frankie’s awake now, and you’re trying to soothe him back to sleep. Santi almost makes it to the door, when he stops dead in his tracks as he hears Frankie's grunts turn into a strained moan, ”fuck, fuck...Querida, wait, I can’t—”.

That’s not the sound a man makes when having a nightmare.

It’s too dark for Santi to see anything, the door is almost closed all the way save for a small slant. Unless he leaned forward, shoving his head through the spring, there was nothing to see and he's not about to go fucking creepy Peeping Tom on either of you.

It’s just… fuck. He doesn't know why but even though he's trying to walk away, his feet feel like lead. He can't move. Paralysed to the spot, like he's forgotten how to walk.

"You sure you want me to stop, baby?" you ask. It's a soft coo, teasing.

Whatever you're doing has Frankie whining for real.

Fuck, that needy little sound shoots straight through Santi's cock and he realizes that he's standing there with a semi now. What the fuck is he even doing.

Now that his mind is focused on it, it's all that Santi can hear. His attention has narrowed to a pinpoint focus on the sound of Frankie’s harsh breathing. Even though he can't see, his imagination is running wild when he can hear the way your muffled hums are mixed with Frankie's gorgeous soft moans.

Frankie is begging with breathless, punched out little huffs. "No. Fuck. Please don't stop. Just—"

"Just what baby?"

There's another soft gasp, "Shit— Jesus christ, I—I can't... Pope's down the hall."

At that Santi's finally able to come to his senses. His friends don't want him to hear this. It's a private moment. He finally manages to tear himself away, finally able to lift his feet from the spot where they've been bolted down to, and turns to walk away when he hears your voice.

"You say that, but you're so fucking hard, Francisco. Look at you, baby. You sure you don't want Santi to hear you?"

The strangled groan that tears out of Frankie's throat is possibly the most devastating sound that Santi has ever heard in his life. It has the blood rushing from his head to his groin so fast it’s a goddamned miracle Santi doesn’t black out on the spot.

There’s soft rustling from inside the room as Frankie’s breath hitches, followed by a wet sloppy sound. Santi can recognize that sound anywhere. Even without seeing, it's all he can see in his mind. Your hands and mouth wrapped tight around Frankie's cock, wet and slippery as your tongue laps at the length of him.

Santi holds his breath, scared to make even that tiny little noise in case you two hear him outside. The air is packed so tight in his lungs he is on the brink of passing out.

"You like it when Santi watches you don't you baby? It always gets you so hard. Should I ask him to come in here and watch you come down my throat? Would you like that?" you ask.

All Santi can see, even as he shuts his eyes tight to block out your voice, is your pretty pink tongue covered in Frankie’s cum. Sees your eyes as you look up at your husband adoringly with that easy smile of yours, swallowing every single drop.

FUCK.

He can’t do this. Why the fuck is he still standing here? Why are his feet not moving? Why does he feel paralysed. Get out, get the fuck out of there Santiago. Now, goddamnit.

Finally, finally, his useless legs seems to pair up with his dumb brain. His feet move forward, despite the numbness and the surface beneath his soles seems to have disappeared altogether. He almost has to steady himself by the wall or else he swears he’s going to wobble and fall over. With a palpitating heart, a lone cold drop of sweat sears into his spine. Somehow, (he doesn’t even remember how) Santi makes it into his own bedroom and crawls in underneath the covers.

He’s slept at the bottom of the bunk one too many times, overhearing another soldier taking care of themselves. Enough times to know that the only way he’s going to get sleep is to plug in his headphones and blast Metallica on full volume. It is exactly what Santi ends up doing but it doesn’t drown out the memory of your voice. It haunts him. Syrupy sweet and practically dripping, as you cooed at Frankie about how he likes Santi watching him.

The memory of it makes Santi’s cock throb with heat. Makes him aware of how heavy the supposedly soft fabric of his sweatpants feels against his cock. It twitches and snags against the waistband. Santi summons every ounce of discipline he’s been trained for to not thrust up his hips to gain some friction to relieve his frustration. Because if he starts he won’t stop until he’s thrusting into his hand, hard and fast for his release.

Instead he tries to just focus on his breathing, even as the oxygen in the room feels like liquid fire in his lungs. He inhales and closes his eyes, trying to find some kind of calm. Tries not to think of your voice and what you said. Definitely does not think of Frankie’s desperate whines and half suppressed moans that’s making him leak into his sweatpants, sticky with the thick ooze of precum.

Just, what the fuck was that supposed to mean? What the fuck do you mean Frankie wants him to watch? Does Frankie just have an exhibition kink? It is Frankie, it's not hard to imagine. Maybe he just likes to be watched, period. Maybe Santi just happened to be a name that was pulled out of a hat. But… the way you had said his name, all soft, and sweet ladened with meaning between you—STOP. Stop, Garcia, stop.

But he can’t stop, his mind is a derailed train gone haywire without any breaks as it keeps pummeling forward, passengers’ lives be damned. How often have you two fantasized about him before? Have you ever said his name with Frankie’s cock deep inside you? Has Frankie? —And Christ, what’s wrong with him that the thought of that makes him so fucking hard? Everything inside him is just throbbing, restless and pent up.

If he doesn’t get some relief he swear he’s going to lose his mind. He presses the heel of his hand against his erection that refuses to go away. But the pleasure takes him by surprise, more intense than he’d expected. It skitters and races to the tip of his toes, ripping out a moan from his throat. Santi has to bite down on his tongue, hard enough to sting, to force the noise back inside.

His mind goes stupidly blank when he shoves a rough hand underneath the waistband and around his cock. If he wasn’t so far gone, he'd be a bit embarrassed about the state of him. How wet he is, precum leaking until it drips down the twitching length. He’s too far gone already. All he can think about is how that first stroke is fucking bliss.

He ignores the flush of shame that’s trying to remind him of what he’s doing. Reminding him who he’s thinking of, as his fist squeezes around his aching cock. Eyes shut tight as he thinks of you kneeling between Frankie’s thick thighs while you struggle to swallow down his cock. Your plush lips, swollen and shiny with saliva as you’d pull up for air.

He thinks of the greedy way that Frankie would gaze up at Santi as he watches, just like you had asked him to. And Santi can’t decide which would be better when their eyes would finally meet. Whether he wants Frankie to barely be able to hold Santi’s gaze with half-timid glances while you tease him. Or if he wants Frankie confident and in control, eyes darkened with a sharp focus, the way he is on a mission.

Both, Santi wants to see both, the perplexing duality that is Francisco Morales.

Santi strokes himself fast and hard. It’s too good not to. He’s too impatient to go nice and slow and make it last. His thighs tense, and all he thinks about is how badly he wants to come. How badly he wants to hear you say his name, just like that again. How he wants to hear Frankie say it too, rasped and warm, as Santi drops to his knees in front of the man. How he wants it to be your hand on his cock, instead of his own. All he wants to hear is your voice, telling him how good he’s doing as he wraps his lips around Frankie’s hardened cock.

Santi grits his teeth. It’s just a fantasy. No one has to know.

His cock swells in his hand and he knows he’s close. Doesn’t try to hold it off as he can feel his stomach clench and twitch. His hand tightens, hips thrusting and riding the aching pleasure he finds there as he thinks of Frankie filling his mouth. How Frankie’s fingers would tighten around his curls until Santi would feel the sharp sting as the man thrust into his throat as far as it goes. The sweet burn of it as he can feel Frankie’s cum, warm and salty against his tongue.

Fuck, Santi’s going to come. He can’t hear it but he can feel the strangled moan that burns in his throat as his orgasm rips through him. It tingles and burns along his spine, drawing tight and holding him down, until he feels like he can no longer breathe, doesn’t need to breathe.

The first rope of cum splashing over his stomach scalds, thick and warm. It coats his hand and he can feel it paint the underside of his arm, getting everywhere and Santi doesn’t care. All he cares about is how impossibly good he feels as his entire spine warmly tingles with it. How it doesn’t stop. How he’s still coming, as he continues to stroke himself, wringing out every last ounce of pleasure until it’s too much. Until it almost hurts from how oversensitive his cock is to his own touch and he finally stops.

Santi stares up at the ceiling. Blinking as the guilt that he had evaded until now starts to bleed into his skin. Shame stinging behind his eyelids with nowhere left to run. He’s glad for the loud thrash of music filling his ears so he doesn’t have to hear his own harsh breathing.

Then he wipes the sloppy mess off of his chest and stomach like it’s the crude evidence of a crime scene. Tries to erase and compartmentalise it like this never happened. Because Santiago Garcia should know better than to get himself off to the thought of his two oldest friends. The two of you are the closest thing he has that counts as his home nowadays.

Even he isn’t dumb enough to fuck up something that important.

~* Read Part Two *~

Dedication: Always and forever to my 🤡💖🤡 @thirstworldproblemss. I love you. Sorry for plaguing you with these three horny idiots for the last month. Thank you for all the time you've taken out of your day to beta-read and listen to my madness and just making this better in every way.

Also to @loversandantiheroes and @littleferal for helping me with this one. For the invaluable advice, suggestions and steering me in the right direction when I got it sideways. @leonieb​​ for cheerleading and support. 

Author's Note: Also big thank you to @absurdthirst​​ who was incredibly kind when I approached her about the use of the title: Homecoming, given that she has an amazing work titled Home featuring Frankie x reader x Santi that is well worth a read.

[lily-drake]

Can i get an au where theres HEAVY paris salt (class, bustier, adrien, paris in general) where Adrien gets his miraculous revoked for reasons up to u and mari saves paris on her own and after hawka$$ is defeated her parents kick her out and tikki and plagg (who are super protective of her(especially plagg and hes unashamed of this fact)) turn human and adopt her and are super loving and doting parents and mari loves them and they move to gotham for her to heal and maridami with happy end? TYSM❣

Found Family

Marinette’s life has never been easy, at least not since Marinette got her miraculous. In a way she resented her miraculous because while she had all the luck in the world as Ladybug, everything came crashing down as Marinette. Crashing down like everything in her civilian life turned into a burning trash fire tornado that destroyed and burned every. Single. Thing. In its path until there was absolutely nothing left.

In fact it all started when Lila Rossi walked into class. Actually, no. It started WAY before Rossi even stepped her fake stiletto boot in Paris. It started before middle school. In fact, it all started when she was born. Tom and Sabine had a child, but they never truly cared for said child. They often left the little girl all by herself in the apartment because they were always too busy with the bakery to ever care about her. But as she got older they groomed her to be the perfect child that would bring them more revenue and more attention. Marinette needed to get the highest grades and try to have a few friends. Not because she exactly wanted to, but because mama and papa would be so angry with her if she didn’t do so. They told her that if she didn’t then she would be in big trouble. And big trouble usually meant no dinner and she would have to stay locked in her room again. There were so many expectations placed on her since she took her first breath, and it was crushing her down to the dust's dust.

She hated Chat Noir, hated how he treated everything like a game. Hated how everything he did ended up hurting or compromising Paris’s safety. He would always flirt with and touch her no matter how many times she told him to stop. Master Fu refused to do anything about it, refused to relieve her of this burden that was crushing her.

At school Lila and Chloe had teamed up to ruin her life, and it worked. It wasn’t like she had many friends in the first place, but that didn’t make this any better. The worst part was even though Adrien had promised to have her back he just stood by and let everything happen. He refused to help her as she was on the floor with kicks, punches, and horrible, horrible, words raining down on her. He just stood by and watched with a disappointed frown and head shake. She almost broke that day, she almost let the akuma that was flying towards her take her away from the pain. Let herself be taken away from the cruelness that was Paris. But she didn’t, she would never let herself succumb to such atrocities that would come of that stupid selfish decision.

Then Master Fu lost his memories, she was the guardian, and everything came falling down around her. She broke, but not in the emotional breakdown kind of break. No, she was numb, she was burnt out, she was sick and tired of this stupid ungrateful city that keeps encouraging the sexual assault that Chat puts her through. The stupid interviews of her love life that did not matter in the slightest to the people. To her school that constantly gaslighted and ruined her life by ruining her record based on factless evidence because the school was corrupt and rolled over to whatever bullcrap that would make sure that she would never get to go to a good college. Now, now that everything was her responsibility, now that there was no one controlling her and her actions, now that she was in charge she would finish this. During the next battle against one of Hawkmoth’s pawns when Chat reached over to take her hand to pull her into a kiss, she grabbed his wrist that held his miraculous and twisted it behind his back at a very painful angle. She kicked out his legs from under him making him fall to his knees and took the ring from off of his finger. She watched as he de-transformed into the one and only Adrien Agreste. Before he could open his mouth she threw her yo-yo against his head and knocked him out cold.

“Rot in Hell you coward.”

She growled at the unconscious body, kicking his side for good measure before she threw her yo-yo towards her number one suspect’s house. The Agreste manor. As the guardian she could feel where miraculous magic was strong, she didn’t know why Master Fu couldn’t, but it did not matter anymore. Kicking down the door to the large empty mansion she walked towards where the dark aura was thickest. Right under the house in front of a portrait of Mrs. Agreste. Feeling around the portrait she could feel slight bumps on the picture, and once she found all ten of them she pushed down on them and felt the floor move below her. Once she was underground she saw a figure standing in front of her and by the disgusting fashion sense the horrible shade of purple knew who it was. Seriously, what was covering one of his eyes?! She watched the man turn towards her and smirk evilly as he began his long monologue.

Marinette was so done with this, so without any warning she threw her yo-yo and wrapped it around his body so tight that it cut off his air and tugged it down so he was forced to his knees. Keeping it taught as she walked towards him she watched as he looked up and glared at her and gripped his staff tightly in his grip. It’s a shame he can’t even budge his arm to use it. He shouldn’t have monologued, he should have just fought. Once she grabbed both the butterfly and peacock miraculous she released her yo-yo from around him, knowing that if she had it as tight around him without the miraculous suit, he would be dead. As soon as she had his miraculous she rushed back to the elevator and left.

Calling for her lucky charm as she saw the akumatized civilian still wreaking havoc she quickly jumped into the battle and defeated the akuma. Once she was down she threw her lucky charm into the air and healed the entire city for the very last time. The lights of the night shone brightly through the city that would no longer be tormented, the city would be at peace at last.

Marinette walked to her house and watched as Lila and her schoolmates walked out of the bakery comforting the liar. Marinette gulped as she now stared at the ominous building. She had no idea why they were there, and she hated when her parents were angry with her. Last time Alya came to complain about her, she wasn’t allowed to eat for an entire day. With so many people there, most likely to complain about her, who knows what they would do. She pulled out the ring from her bag and put it on her finger and watched Plagg pop into her line of sight. Plagg looked at her sorrowfully and she could feel silent tears fall down her face as he wrapped his small arms around her cheek with his small paws along with Tikki, Dussu, and Nooroo. She stayed on the corner of the street for she didn’t know how long until she gathered herself up and walked towards the building. All of the kwamii with her pressed against her leg hidden away in her purse. As she walked into the building she felt a shiver run down her spine as the dark suffocating aura surrounded her, almost making her choke from the amount of anger and hatred she could feel.

Slowly walking up the stairs to the apartment she opened the door and from the silence alone she knew that nothing good was going to come of this. She walked forward and stopped when she saw her parents sitting at the table in the kitchen glaring at her.

“We had so much hope for you Marinette. We did so much for you. We raised you, fed you, clothed you, supported your interests and this is how you repay us?”

Her mother’s soft voice said flatly with a slight disappointed and angry undertone. Marinette gulped and could feel guilt claw at her insides. She looked at the floor shamefully.

“Look at us when we are talking to you!”

Her father yelled at her in the most angry and rough voice that she had ever heard. Her head immediately snapped up and she saw Sabine put her arm in front of her father who was standing up and glaring down at her.

“Now Marinette, what’s going to happen is that you’re going to go pack your things, leave, and never come back here again.”

Her voice held a finality that made her eyes tear up. There was a dark look in her eyes that dared her to talk back, to do anything other than agree. So with a silent nod she quietly walked up to her room and began to pack as silent tears continued to run down her face.

Plagg and Tikki were outraged. This girl was the most amazing, creative, talented, and loving person in the entire world. All of the kwamii loved her and would do anything for her, so they knew exactly what they needed to do. They would take this girl, and they would treat her like she deserved to be treated, love her like she deserved to be loved her entire life. So once Marinette was packed and completely out of the house, Plagg and Tikki transformed into their human forms ready to take care of the girl they saw as their child.

Marinette startled back at the kwamii now people in front of her. Tikki stood there looking almost ethereal. Her skin had a very light tan to it, her hair was a deep red with black bangs and roots in a short pixie cut. She was wearing a black off the shoulder long sleeved shirt with a red and black polka dotted knee length skirt with black flats. Plagg had dark inky black hair, deeply tanned skin, and wore a grey wool knit sweater and dark black sweats with black sneakers. Both gave her warm smiles and wrapped their now human arms into a hug. The tears falling down her face were no longer silent as she cried into both of the kwamiis as they held her as close to them as possible. Slowly they lowered her until they were kneeling on the ground.

“Everything is going to be okay, my child. I swear to you that we will make sure you will never go through this again.”

Tikki whispered as she lovingly ran her fingers through Marinette’s hair.

“I promise kid, we will protect you and we will treat you like you are our own child. I know this sounds cheesy, but you are our light, and we refuse to lose you.”

Plagg whispered into her ear as he let Marinette lean against his shoulder. After sitting there for an uncertain amount of time Plagg gently picked her up in a princess carry letting her rest against his chest as Tikki grabbed the luggage. Kaalki flew out of the luggage and looked at the scene before her and nodded at the two kwamii. She quietly opened a portal to one Gotham City, the perfect place to disappear and restart and flew back into the luggage. As They stepped through the portal into an empty alleyway of the dark city, they knew that this was the perfect place for their new child.

~~~~~~~~~ Damian glared at the new girl. He didn’t understand, why would anyone voluntarily move to Gotham? The girl in question was quiet and kept to herself. Now he could respect that as he hated being around other people for too long as well, but there was just something that didn’t make sense. Marin Qíjī sat in the back at the table across from him. There was an aura around her, one that he felt oddly familiar, and one that felt to be pulling him towards her.

He glared at the girl. She was obviously someone of suspect, there was no other way to explain why he felt drawn to her. As soon as the final bell rang she was gone. She practically ran out of the class and towards the entrance. He was unable to see where she left or if she left with anyone. She was obviously hiding something, and he would find out what because he refused to let his city be hurt.

The next day Damian sat next to the girl and saw her stiffen up. He didn’t look at her though, only pulling out his work and getting ready for the class period. She seemed to relax at that and pulled out a small book where she began to sketch. Neither talked to the other, and Damian was slightly shocked by that. The fact that she not even once tried to get close or flirt with him like every other harlot in this school. When he saw her leave again just as quickly as the last time he had been able to place a tracker on her before she had completely disappeared.

That night as he went on patrol he followed the tracker to a small apartment in a nicer side of town in the business district. He looked through one of the windows and saw a man and woman with the girl in the kitchen throwing what appeared to be flour at each other with large smiles on their faces. The first thought that came to mind was that Pennyworth would have his head if they did this in his kitchen. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong at the moment, and it appeared that the girl was not hostile or part of some scheme, so he left.

As Damian began to walk through the gates of Gotham Academy something crashed into him from behind causing him to fall forward.

“Owww.”

A small high pitched voice mumbled. The person that was on them froze before immediately getting up.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’m really clumsy. I’m sorry.”

He turned around with a scowl etched onto his face and turned to see the new student. The courtyard was silent waiting to see what would happen. The girl was several feet away with her gaze on the ground. To anyone else she would just look remorseful, and just that. But he could see the slight shake of her shoulders, the slight gloss in her eyes, the way her fingers twitched anxiously, and her body was rigid and braced as if there would be some type of physical strike for what she had done. His glare lightened, in slight understanding for fear of a strike for a mistake.

“It is fine, just be careful.”

The girl looked up at him in shock and gave a small nod. Her shoulders dropped the tension that was in them moments before and she slowly relaxed. She shuffled her feet slightly before looking down again.

“Of course. I apologize again.”

This time he could hear a slight French accent in her voice and noticed smaller details on her skin. Before he could drop down that line of thinking he turned and continued towards his first period, which she happened to be in. He sighed before he stopped and turned back towards her.

“Come, class will start soon and I do not wish to be late, and neither should you.”

Her eyes seemed to shine slightly before she nodded and followed right after him.

“I’m Marin.”

She said almost shyly. He nodded and replied briskly,

“Damian.”

Little did either of them know that this would be the beginning of something beautiful and amazing.

Permanent Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog

[strawberrylucv]

heeello!! ^^

can you do something angst of the childe where he argues with the reader and is extremely mean, just because he was angry for some reason, discounting his anger on her? (with words) if you don’t feel comfortable its okay, I just really like angst <3 tysm!!

hello!! here you go anon! i really like angst too >:) i hope you like this cuz this was really fun to write!

"Get out of my house."

warnings : fem!reader x Childe, angst no comfort, implied sexual relationship, swearing, name-calling, childe being stressed and an asshole.

words : 933

**HELLO!! PART 2 IS OUT :) "Welcome Back."

●❍°•°•°○°•°•°❍●●❍°•°•°○°•°•°❍●●❍°•°•°○°•°

Today was not a good day for the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. When he woke up, he felt very irritated maybe it was from the position he woke up in or it might be because he couldn't eat his favorite breakfast since he was quite later than usual for his missions.

It may be because his subordinates didn't understand his command making them lose some valuable assets for the Fatui. When he was about to go eat lunch he accidentally burnt his tongue when scooping soup in a nearby food cart. His shoulder and back still ache from when he woke up this morning, he wished he stayed in bed. His day only got worse when he received a letter from the Tsaritsa saying he's been 'sloppy' this month. 'I'm never sloppy.' the thought clouds his mind, it made his blood boil giving him a headache and as if the Archons granted him a horrible day, that headache made sure to stay and bother him. When the sun was finally setting he was getting ready to go home and just drop dead on his comfy bed however he remembered that today was a Friday.

He promised to you that every Friday is a night for just the two of you to spent together. If you wanted to pick glaze lilies in the wild then he would gladly go with you, or if you wanted to do something else that involved you two alone in a private or maybe even public place then he would smirk and guide you along. This night, you wanted to have a casual dinner date.

He was a bit late to the said time of the date but it didn't matter since you were still cooking the menu for tonight either way. He knocked on the door and you see a man with heavy bags under his eyes, face visibly irritated and his fingers glued to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Are you alright?" you hurriedly grab his arm to help him enter your house but he just brushes your arm off and falls on to the nearby couch. You tell him that dinner will be ready soon and he replies with his hand up. He normally would give you a hug but his headache was killing him. As you plate the food on the table you go up to your boyfriend who was laying down. "Childe, I think that you should go home for today." you say as you stand beside the couch. "Why?" he replies with a hostile tone looking at you with his half lidded eyes. If only he could see how horrible he looked,

"You don't look that well. I just want you to-"

"Not be sloppy? Is that what you were going to say?" He stands up from his laying position making the pain from his headache worsen.

"No, I wasn't going to say that. I want you to relax." you try to caress his cheek but he grabs your wrist, when you tried to pull back from his grip he didn't let you go.

"Childe, let go." you look at him furrowed brows, you still try to pull your wrist back to you but it was futile.

"You know, I don't fucking get why I stick around with you."

You look up to him and stare at his tired eyes. What was he trying to say to you?

"You're probably laughing, right? Happy seeing how vulnerable I am?"

"Of course not! I never want you to-"

"There's so many other fucking people that I could get with, other people that are so much better than you."

"Childe, stop." Still trying to pull back from his grip. He was walking towards you making you walk backwards,

"Every day, I can meet people who can be so much other than just a fuck hole to me." Your heart breaks as he says this line, was this all he thought of you? Only a fuck hole?

"Is it mora you're after? Is it the fact that I'm part of the Harbingers? Tell me, Y/N?" He cornered you to the wall. Your face was getting hot from the tears you were trying to hold back.

"Come on, Y/N. You like seeing all my sides, right? It's fun for you to watch as I break down, right?" his voice got louder making you shake as he still hasn't let go of your hand and actually gripping it tighter. You try to push him with your free hand but he doesn't budge.

"Oh, I know Y/N! You're just here because you're a selfish whore who is in need of protection because all the guys she fucked are probably out to get her again, aren't I right Y/N-" his voice reverberates through your house but you stop him from speaking by slapping his face with the hand you were trying to push him with. He looks at you, with your eyebrows furrowed and tears that were heavily falling from your eyes. "Well, Y/N?" he lets go of your wrist and takes 2 steps backward.

"Get out of my house." That was your final sentence to him. He storms out with heavy footsteps, slamming the door on his way out. You fall down from your shaky knees and sob, pouring all your emotions out that you were trying to keep in, with no one to comfort you. Tonight felt extremely cold, you were crying all alone with the dinner on your table that was supposed to be for two, now for one. Now for only you.