#all the A-I trash going around is so depressing to see

[ionomycin]

Welcome home

[gatun-gatunesco]

...

[etherealskeletons]

;

[prismatic-bell]

HEY EVERYONE

Do you enjoy the idea of Sticking It To The Man, but also you’re fucking tired? Maybe you appreciate the idea of direct action of some kind but ADHD, depression, or physical disability has made it nigh-on impossible for you to actually, you know, do shit?

Well, friends, allow me to introduce you to a small but significant thing you can do to Stick It To The Man while also benefiting your own mental health:

I haven’t bought green onions in a year.

If you’re sitting here thinking “holy shit, Nina, those look like hell,” you’re not wrong—they’re recovering from some unintended abuse. They survived two weeks in triple digits (that’s upward of 35 degrees for y’all with the weird sciencey math units) while I, uh. Forgot to water them. The outer layers dried out to protect the inner layers and as soon as I watered these thirsty bitches they went

They literally looked dead three weeks ago. So yeah, they’re not too pretty right now, but you wouldn’t be either, and they’re bouncing back nicely.

So, how to do this simple thing?

1) obtain dirt and a pot. You’ll want to do this first because the next steps go surprisingly fast. My green onions live in a 6” terracotta pot and some gardening topsoil, but you can use potting mix (not Miracle Gro tho, that stuff is trash), dirt from outside if you live in a place where it’s safe to do so, any kind of soil will do provided it’s clean and doesn’t contain pests (although most pests will leave alliums alone because they hate the smell). To be clear, because we love and respect our biosphere in this house, “pests” in this context means “bugs that specifically will attack green onions while providing no benefit to either the onions or any other plants you may have.” The pot is mandatory, however—if you want to do this year-round, you need to be able to move the onions inside/outside as weather allows/demands.

2) buy some green onions. You can skip straight to step 4 from here if you want, but if you’re planning to use them first…

3) cut them only to the tops of the white bits. In other words you ONLY want to use the green part.

4) put the white bits in a ramekin, measuring cup, etc. with some water. I’ve used things as big as juice glasses for this, but that’s really on the big end. Put your container in a window with some sun.

5) 3-5 days later, you should see about half an inch of root growth on the bottoms of your onions, and possibly the beginnings of a tiny green spear at the top. (Maybe a bit more, if they’re overachievers.) Plant them in your pot with just a bit of the white sticking up overtop of the soil.

6) water just a little bit, every other day. You want the soil to always be moist to the touch, but never out and out wet.

7) watch them sprout. This is excellent for your mood, by the way. Science says having and tending green things provides visible benefits to both your physical and mental health. We also know that making tangible things is good for your mental health, and green onions grow quickly, so you get benefits fast.

8) As they grow, you can reduce watering to three times per week because they’ll be able to store more water. The leaves will feel firm and “thick” (you’ll understand what I mean when you get to feel a properly-watered green onion) when they have enough water, much like a succulent’s leaves will get thicker and firmer when it’s well-hydrated, so it’s relatively easy to tell if they need a drink.

9) trim your onions as you need them! I try to never take more than 3-4 leaves in a week—about half a bunch—so it has time to grow more, but if you live with a bunch of people you can get around this by just starting more green onions. Buy three or four bunches and plant them all. They don’t go bad because they literally just grow until you need them. I’ve actually planned meals around “I have not used enough green onions lately and the leaves are bending under their own weight, I need to trim some tops.” Although the ones you see in the grocery store have open tops, you’ll notice closed spears on your new leaves, and these are completely edible. Yes, I regret to tell you they cut off and probably waste the tapered bits just for The Aesthetic. They’re just like any other green part of the onion.

AND YOU WILL NEVER NEED TO BUY GREEN ONIONS AGAIN. Just add a little soil now and again to replenish the nutrients.

Yes, they’re cheap. Yes, this is a small thing. But many small things added together are a big thing. And when you’re confident in your green onions, if you have the desire and ability to do more, there are many other plants you can grow from grocery-store starters.

GO FORTH. ENJOY THIS KNOWLEDGE.

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

𖤓 Being married to Lucifer would include 𖤓

Pairing: Lucifer X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression and slightly suggestive content. Reader doesn't have a defined gender.

Waking up with morning kisses ❣

• He likes to hug you before you two sleep, is almost funny seeing him trying to be the big spoon when he's so tiny.

• It's no surprise he's a very clingy man, and that would just double when you two got married.

• Kisses aren't limited to morning tho, he'll get any excuse to give you even a peck. Lunch kiss, Goodnight kiss, Afternoon kiss, anything you can think of will be a good time to plant a smooch on your lips.

Eating the best of what Hell has to ofer ❣

• I believe with my whole being that Lucifer is a fenomenal cooker.

• He can bake anything you ask for, doesn't matter what, he will do whatever he can to make it the best meal you ever had.

• You can expect to have breakfast on bed at least once in a week, he'll sit besides you in bed and wait until you finish eating, wings around you and smiling like a idiot because he just adores seeing how happy his cooking makes you feel.

• He will ask you to cook with him too, he especially enjoys baking apple pies and pancakes and will often make cookies shaped like ducks. He sits and waits in front of the oven until it's ready and really enjoys when you also make him company.

Deal with his rubber ducks everywhere ❣

• Lucifer isn't the most organized person, yes, he enjoys doing the cleaning most of the time, but he finds it a hard time making sure all his ducks are in place.

• Sometimes you'll be going normally with your day, walking by the house and suddenly you will step on one of his rubber ducks, making it squeak.

• You tried putting them on a shelf once, making sure they were out of the floor, but in less than a week that shelf would be full because he would just keep making even more ducks and having nowhere to place them.

• His solution to it is to just shove them into his office, making piles and more piles of yellow rubber creatures, they will stay there until you two can think of a better solution.

• He gifted a bunch of those to you as well, you have your own place to put your collection, it's full of duckies themed of things you like, one of them looks like Lucifer, the other looks like you and a smaller one that looks like Charlie, the three of them have a special place and are always together in your collection.

Help him to clean himself ❣

• Sometimes his depression can get the best of him, when it happens he doesn't have the energy to even get out of bed, you'll have to help with all his chores and simple things.

• Help him get up, help him shower, brush his theet, fix his hair, help him get dressed and make sure he eats, sometimes even hygine is hard for him to do alone and the help you give him means the world.

• Also, make sure to tell him that you don't mind helping him, even with menial tasks like those, he's very insecure when these episodes happen and is scared that you might leave him because of them, he doesn't want to be a burden, so tell him how much you appreciate being his partner.

“I'm sorry for making you do this...” he silently says, head resting on your lap as you bursh your hand through his blond hair, it was one of those days and you two were sitting togheter on his office couch, he didn't have the will to do anything today and you had to help him even clean himself up, he felt like shit. “I'm such a piece of trash.”

You shake your head, grabbing his chin and making him look at you, he looks so tired and defeated, and at the same time looks at you like you're the only thing making him less miserable.

“Don't say that Luci, you know I love you a lot don't you? I don't mind helping you when you're feeling down” you move him around, enough to be able to give him a hug, pulling him closer to you so he could be comforted, you hated seeing him like that, you wish he could see how amazing he truly is, see himself the way you see him. “And hey, you were able to brush your theet by yourself today, I'm so proud of you for that.”

He's at verge of tears when he hears you say that, he pulls you closer using his wings, putting his head on your chest. “Thank you so much dear.” He's glad he has someone like you in his life.

Having to deal with bite marks ❣

• Lucifer is... How to put it. Rather possessive.

• But not in a creepy or unhealthy way! No no no, he simply adores you so much he can't help but mark you as his sometimes.

• His sharp theet can make a real number on you, he tries his best to be as gentle as possible, asking your permission before ever biting you anywhere, but he always aims for visible spots.

• Sometimes it makes you so embarrassed that you ask yourself why did you let him bite you in the first place, like when Charlie asked about it once and you had to make the worst excuse ever just to not tell her that her father was the one who did it.

• When you told him about it he just laughed, that made you a little annoyed but he promissed he would be more careful later. (This time he gave you a mark on your thigh before putting his tongue into work)

Hearing about his wishes to form a family ❣

• Man daydreams about forming a family with you, he can't help but just think about how precious it would be for you two, Charlie and a new child to take a new family picture.

• He doesn't force that idea onto you, he drops here and there how much he would love a new child, but if somehow you showed that you were uncomfortable with it he would stop, you and Charlie are enough for him and he won't try to change it for a fantasy.

• But if you want to adopt, probably a Hellhound or even a Imp since there's no human children in Hell, he will absolutely be supportive and be there with you through the adoption progress. He'll make sure to treat the child as his own and give them as much love as they deserve.

• If the adopted child is a girl then? He'll just be the happiest man alive, he's going to spoil her, never want to let her go and will dress her up in every opportunity. He'll for sure cry before you all take a family photo and say how much he loves you and his daughters.

[feelbokkie]

괜찮아, 자기야 (it’s okay, darling)

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: hurt/comfort, heavy angst (read warnings)

pov: 2nd person

description: Seungmin is the type of person who will let you come to him when you're hurting. But even then, he can't just not do anything while you suffer.

pairing: boyfriend!Seungmin x reader

warnings: mention of food, depiction of depression, slight depiction of an eating disorder

word count: 2,194

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Y/n...Y/n, wake up," Seungmin's soft and gentle voice pulls you back into the world of the conscious.

"Hm?" You hum, your eyes still closed.

"I'm hungry," He whispers, tapping on your shoulder.

You crack one eye open, staring at your boyfriend. You can barely see in him the dark of your room. You're not even sure what time it is. Seungmin had a busy schedule today so you weren't anticipating seeing him. And with your day off, you just stayed home and ended up taking a nap.

"You came all the way to my place to wake me up and tell me that you're hungry?" You croak.

"...Yes?" He hesitates, biting the tip of his tongue.

"You know where my kitchen is, go make something. Or have something delivered." You yawn as you pull your blanket over your face.

Cool air hits your face as your blanket is gently pulled down. Getting irritated, you whine as you sit up and turn on your lights. Both you and Seungmin flinch as your eyes adjust to the light. In the light, Seungmin can see how pale you've gotten and the dark circles under your eyes. He feels worse than he already does about waking you up. You can see it in the way his smile drops as your eyes meet.

"I already bought something," He whispers.

"Then why did you wake me up?" You snap.

Seungmin presses his lips together, thinking for a second. You didn't mean to snap at him. You know that and he knows that. So he doesn't take it to heart. He knows he's at fault for waking you up.

"Can you come sit with me while I eat?" He asks, biting his lower lip. He knows that there's a possibility you'll shut him down and go back to sleep.

"What?"

You heard him perfectly fine the first time. Part of you wonders if you're still asleep and this is all a dream. It's not abnormal for Seungmin to come into your apartment and eat or do other things like he lives there. You've always told him to make himself comfortable. You also know that Seungmin doesn't like eating alone. You've lost count of how many times you've received video calls from him only for him to sit there and eat and then hang up when he's done. Normally, however, if you're asleep or too busy to sit with him or answer the call, he'll leave you alone.

"Please?" He quietly pleads.

"Okay, fine." You mumble, climbing out of bed.

Here's what you don't know, Seungmin has noticed that your eating habits have changed. Not a first, but he slowly began to figure it out. He beats himself up for not noticing sooner. He's not sure why or how he didn't. Your hands feel smaller in his. The rings on your hands that he usually fidgets with were easier to spin around your fingers. Your face felt different in his hands when he cupped your face, slightly smaller. Your clothes, which were already too big in the first place, seemed to swallow you up. How he didn't pick up on those differences, he'll never know.

It wasn't the physical difference that tipped him off, it was your trash. Seungmin knows that you hate taking out your trash in your apartment complex. The trash is located on the other side of the complex and you have to pass by an apartment that makes you uncomfortable. So, whenever he's in town, he'll come over once a week to take out your trash for you. He started doing it on his own, sneaking into your apartment when you were at work and leaving a note on your fridge so you'd know. He knows how heavy your trash should be, as strange as it sounds. But after taking out your trash for you for years, he's grown accustomed to the feel of the bag in his hands. The bags have either been heavier or lighter than normal. It wasn't last week when he went to take out the trash and found the container for takeout he ordered for you sitting at the top, poorly hidden my napkins. That's when everything clicked for him. How you've gotten slower while eating. You were always faster than him but lately, it's almost like the roles reversed. And he also noticed how little food you ate before claiming that you were full. In his eyes, as your boyfriend, he should have realized sooner.

The two of you sit across from each other at your small dining table. Seungmin quietly fidgets in his seat. His food was already set in front of him. You know he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to say it.

“What?” You let out a deep sigh, beginning to get annoyed.

“I can’t eat if you’re not eating something too,” He speaks slowly, carefully choosing his words. Like it might set you off if he said the wrong thing.

“Since when?”

“Since always,”

“Seungmin—”

“Please? Just eat something with me and then we can both go take a nap together. I promise I’ll shut up.” He begs, his voice getting desperate.

“Okay, but only a little bit,” You mumble, caving in.

Seungmin quickly walks into the kitchen and almost immediately walks back out. Almost like he was ready for this. You shake your head, getting the accusation off of your mind as Seungmin sets the plate down in front of you.

You stare at the food as Seungmin makes his way back to his seat. Something about it makes you feel uncomfortable. A lump forms in your throat as you continue to stare. It's your favorite meal, but you want no part of it.

What the fuck is wrong with me? 

Seungmin watches you carefully, silently refusing to take a bite of his food until you take a bite of yours first. You take one, deep breath before picking up the fork and taking a bite of your food. Still keeping an eye on you, Seungmin finally takes a bite of his food.

"Is it good?" Seungmin asks. All you do is nod in response.

Seungmin has never been one for talking while eating. You're normally the one who starts conversations over meals. You don't like the quiet so small talk is what helps make meals less awkward. On days when Seungmin video chats when he's eating, you often make small talk if you aren't in a position it eat. You being silent right now feels strange to Seungmin.

"I got it by that little shop down the street. The one with the cat that hangs out in the front." Seungmin says quietly.

"Hm," You hum in response.

You know exactly which shop he's talking about. It's your favorite hole-in-the-wall in their neighborhood. And it's everyone else's favorite spot too. It's always so busy and the wait times for takeout are long. There are so many times when you and Seungmin would plan on going there for dinner or to order to-go but would end up changing your minds in favor of something quicker. Both of you are patient, but when you need to eat, you can be cranky. The fact that Seungmin probably waited in line for about an hour makes you feel a little bad.

"Do you want some more?" Seungmin asks when he sees that you cleared your plate.

"No thank you," You respond softly.

Seungmin quickly finishes his food and clears the table, despite your protest. Seungmin told you to go lie down since he woke you up. You quietly apologized and excused yourself before slowly making your way back to your room. You feel bad not helping him but you have no energy left to do so. Those few minutes with Seungmin seemed to have drained your energy.

Creak

Your eyes slowly open just as you feel the bed dip down. Seungmin freezes for a second, watching you. His bangs fall back in front of his face. If you had just a bit more energy in you, you would have fixed them for him.

"Sorry," He mumbles as he continues to make his over to you.

In a few seconds, he's climbed up next to you and under the blanket. His arms snake around you as he carefully pulls you into a hug. He slightly re-adjusts himself, the angle too awkward for both of you at first. You move off him, letting him get into a comfortable position. He's now slightly propped up against the headboard. He pulls you back onto him so that your head rests on his chest. Your legs lazily tangled up together. One of his hands rests on the small of your back while the other is on your head, softly massaging your scalp.

You're not sure if it's the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne coming from his hoodies, the sound of his heart beating his chest, the feeling of his fingers rubbing soft circles in your head, or your general mental health finally being at its tipping point, but something in you snaps. Before you can even ascertain why, tears trickle down your face.

You don't realize it at first. You didn't even feel the pinpricks at the back of your eyes like you normally would before you started crying. Your eyes are quite literally leaking, and you can't stop them. You turn to bury your head into Seungmin's chest, hoping that, that would stop the floodgates from bursting open. Your fingers grip the fabric of Seungmin's hoodie, your whole body shaking as you let out a choked sob. Seungmin's hold around you tightens.

"It's okay, jagiya. You can let it all out. I'm here now. I should have been here earlier, but I'm here now. Okay? And I'm not leaving." Seungmin says softly as he presses a long kiss to the top of your head.

Seungmin's hand that was resting on your back now drawing soothing circles. Not trying to calm you down, per say, but to let you know that it's okay. He doesn't try to shush you or try to get you to talk about whatever is making you feel like this. Instead, he just holds you and lets you cry it out.

You're not sure how long the two of you lay there. The whole time, Seungmin just quietly holds you, still rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your body is hot from a combination of the banklet, Seungmin's hold, and your body working overtime from crying. You finally pull away, your body empty of tears. Your swollen eyes land on Seungmin's hoodie, covered in your tears and snot.

"S-sorry about your hoodie," You stutter. If you had any tears left to cry, you would start crying again.

"I don't mind," He answers quickly.

Seungmin quietly gets up, leaving you alone in your room. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Your eyes are swollen and slightly hurt when you blink. You can only imagine how red they are.

"Here," Seungmin hands you a glass of water before disappearing again.

By the time Seungmin gets back, you've finished the water. He takes the empty glass from you, setting it down on the bedside table, before sitting down in front of you. He gently places a finger under your chin, lifting your head until your eyes are level with his. He gently wipes your face with a warm, damp towel.

"I'm sorry," You whisper as Seungmin cleans your once tear-stained face.

"Don't be sorry," He hums. He finishes cleaning your face and places the towel next to the cup.

"But--I don't know what's wrong with me. I just...I'm sorry," Your head falls in your hands, embarrassed about your crying feast.

"Don't ever apologize for feeling your feelings. And--hey," Seungmin lowers his head so he can be in your field of vision. "Don't ever feel sorry for being vulnerable in front of me. Especially in front of me."

"I don't even know why I cried. Or why I'm...not me right now."

"That's okay. You don't have to know that right now. You can figure that out later. For now, if you need to lean on me or to cry some more or scream and shout or hit something, I'll be here."

"But--" Seungmin cups your face with both of his hands.

"I love you, okay? If you need me, I'm going to be there. Even if you don't, I'll be there. I just need you to know that you're not alone. You'll never be alone as long as I'm here."

That's one of the things you love about Seungmin. He never pushes you. He rather have you feel what you're feeling and then come to him when you're ready to talk. He never wants you to be alone so he situates himself as close to you as you'll allow just so you know he's there.

"I love you," You feel a tear roll down your cheek. Seungmin's thumb moves across your cheek, catching the tear.

"I love you too. Remember that, okay? Try not to forget that."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[riot-ghost]

So I've started a DP writing prompt and I don't know whether or not to finish it so I'll set my base ideas here and see if it hits.

Danny slammed his locker shut, kicking the metal door so hard that it crumpled like a can of soda, barely hanging on by the top hinge. The school was mostly empty, given that school was out regardless. But the remaining students were in a similar state as him.

The students remaining in the school were all in different stages of grief, really. The whole scene looked like something straight from one of Jazz's textbooks. Paulina was picking up her locker, talking with Star about Phantom. Denial.

Danny was the perfect picture of anger. Pure rage leaked from every pore. Star had only just passed bargaining, the mascara tear-stains from begging with her parents are enough evidence of that.

Dash sat against his locker across the hall, staring into blank space. Mikey sat in the cafeteria, head buried into the phone he'd gotten off of his parents.

All of Casper High was like this. Tucker sat next to Mikey, the vibrant screen glaring at his thick-framed glasses. Sam was trashing the art room, her angry screams heard from where Danny stood in the hallway. He'd gotten into his locker and was currently busy tears apart every picture he had with his parents.

What Danny really wanted to know, what all of the students did, was why. Why was this happening? What led to this?

It had started the Friday before, really. School was going as normal. Danny was on edge. There hadn't been a ghost attack all week. He sat in his seat, ready for English class. Mr. Lancer came in. He set down his book, took off his reading glasses, and stared at his class.

"Our funding has been cut." No one says anything. Mr. Lancer sighs, rubbing his face. "I... Shouldn't be the one to break this to you." He turns to the corner of the room. "I... Have to be." He sighs. "Eighteen years ago, I got hired for an acting job." Still, silence follows his words.

"A government-funded project. Full time, the pay was astronomical. I was suspicious, but I was broke. I was so indebted that I would have joined the military. Or, hell, I would've done anything." Mr. Lancer took a seat. "I was briefed on this... This project. The Amity Project. A fake town, something about the ambient air. Genetically mutated kids. I didn't understand it all."

There's a click from somewhere. Just a background sound, hardly anything. "I didn't understand the sheer size of the project. A whole fake town? I-I was in awe. But then, when you guys got here, to this school, and the project took a turn. No longer was the project raising you guys. It wasn't... It was something twisted and wrong. It was torture." He hangs his head. "No one told me. No one told me until it was too late, and I was too far in, and-"

Mr. Lancer swallows. "I'm sorry." He places his head in his hands. "The Amity Project has come to a head. The portal's been shut down, and you all will be... Dispersed. Rehomed."

"Why?" Danny finds the word falling from his mouth before he can even think.

"They say it's because our benefactors were almost caught. Downsizing. I... I recommend you all stay here. At school. Your parents. They... They are your parents, but they are scientists. This has been a job to them. You'll all be given your housing and guardian's information by Monday. I'm sorry."

Danny had only gotten minimal information from his 'parents'. Just that they'd be busy sorting through years of backlogged data. Just that they were upset that it was all over. No one could stand being around the edge of the town- the sheer number of people just on the other side of the fence was overwhelming.

The juniors of Casper had stayed in Mr. Lancer's English class for hours after the bombshell had been dropped. They'd all had some sort of deep-rooted mutual understanding with each other. And they were all feeling. All feeling anger, depression, they were all feeling grief.

The cards that sat in their back pockets, the creased folders, everything. They all stood in a line, now, all twenty-four students. All of the younger students had been cleared. The older ones had already been gone. But they knew, those 24 students, they knew that it wasn't them that the Amity Project ruled around. It was them.

The students looked less their age as they watched car after car pull up in front of the school. They look like warriors, watching the 'civilians' step out of their cars.

Danny is in the middle of the line, hunched forward a bit as he twists and rips at the flag pole in his hands. He crunches it like it's made of playdough, the metal creaking and grinding in his hands.

Sam is to Danny's left, dripping in blood red paint. Her gothic attire is soaked, her hand color is lost to the red. She looks hellious, like she'd crawled from her own personal pit in hell.

Tucker stands to Danny's right. His posture is firm. His eyes are calculating. His jaw is set. His face is stone. He's tall, looming.

... So. Anyways. I'm thinking from here Sam goes with Diana Prince, Danny goes with Clark Kent, and Tucker goes with Bruce Wayne. The rest of the class goes with assorted civilians (or minor vigilantes). The class remains in contact with each other via letters. The story will follow them coping with not being normal, with the rage and anger, and their evolution into being a new phase of heroes. Heroes without masks or names or anything.

Jazz is living with Barry Allen. She was specifically separated from Danny, and kept that way. Vlad is a halfa, but he's part of the project. Dani is his daughter, and Dan was an unscripted blip in time.

Any feedback would be nice! I just don't know if it'll turn out the way I'm thinking it will.

[nolita-fairytale]

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder. 

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news. 

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’ 

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear. 

A visitor? 

“Wh-?” 

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go. 

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef. 

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval. 

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it. 

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable. 

Must be a prank or some shit…. 

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it? 

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you. 

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.  

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael’s face as soon as he sees that: 

“You’re not Carmen.” 

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.” 

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette. 

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time. 

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest. 

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time. 

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out. 

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael. 

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly. 

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all. 

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him. 

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.” 

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside. 

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night. 

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart. 

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.” 

Carmy tries again. 

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.” 

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next. 

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away. 

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?” 

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over. 

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?” 

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down. 

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you. 

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further. 

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view. 

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that: 

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?” 

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy. 

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.” 

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay. 

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh. 

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look. 

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology. 

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him. 

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.” 

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy. 

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued. 

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction. 

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it. 

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval. 

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him. 

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees. 

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies. 

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth. 

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.” 

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots. 

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots. 

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass. 

Carmy hesitates. 

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with. 

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit. 

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition. 

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself. 

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued. 

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!” 

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look. 

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement. 

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!” 

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with: 

“... just like the one John Lennon had!” 

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again. 

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll. 

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.” 

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction. 

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open. 

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation. 

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head. 

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation. 

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot. 

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that." 

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time. 

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?" 

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.” 

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother. 

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that. 

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear." 

There it is again.

That feeling. 

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him. 

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out." 

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims: 

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!" 

"Carm-." 

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair. 

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him. 

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?” 

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you. 

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother. 

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together. 

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on. 

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm. 

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar. 

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is. 

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet. 

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle. 

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you. 

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice. 

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too. 

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands. 

Carmy nods. 

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.” 

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself. 

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard. 

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.  

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

[beskarandblasters]

You Hired a Cleaning Lady, Mr. Morales?

Sub!Frankie Morales x Dom/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @catchallfangirl for beta reading!!

Summary: After the events of Colombia Frankie finds himself in a spiral of depression, letting himself and his house go. Santiago hires a cleaning service (you) to help him out and as you work for Frankie the sexual tension grows. One day when you can’t take the tension anymore you show up to clean in something else rather than your usual cleaning attire to him to make a move.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, uneven power dynamic (Frankie is Reader's client), dom/sub, lingerie, whimpering Frankie!!, sensory play (feathers), edging, orgasm delay/denial, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, no use of y/n

Santiago pulls up to Frankie’s house on a Thursday afternoon, same as he’s been doing every week. The lawn is overgrown and there’s about three days worth of mail piled up on his doorstep. He sighs and puts his truck in park. Frankie fell into a bout of depression after the events of Colombia, and rightfully so. Considering not only what happened in Colombia but also what happened when he got home. He came home to find all of his shit on the lawn and the locks changed on the house he and his wife used to share. The two events combined sent Frankie in a downward spiral. So Santiago took it upon himself to come check on Frankie every week. Sometimes they go out, sometimes they stay in. It’s been nice for Frankie to have some sense of normalcy. 

He gets out of his truck and walks to Frankie’s doorstep, grabbing the mail before knocking on the door. 

“Just a second!” Frankie’s gruff voice call out.

Frankie answers the door looking like a wreck; pajama pants that have been worn for well over a week, hair unkempt, and dark bags under his eyes. It’s a sight Santiago’s used to but Frankie’s been getting progressively worse. 

“Good to see you,” Santiago says, stepping past Frankie and heading inside.

Somehow Frankie’s house is in an even worse state than him; dirty clothes strewn about, dirty dishes piled high in the sink, the trash overflowing. 

He turns to Frankie and feels a pang in his chest. He wants to help him somehow. He’s already tried suggesting therapy, but Frankie rejected it pretty quickly. And then an idea pops in his head… What about a cleaning service?

“Fish… I wanna help you out.”

“I already told you I don’t need therapy.”

“I know. I know. It’s something else.”

“...What is it?”

“What if I got someone to come in and clean like once a week?”

“I don’t need that.”

Santiago glances around the room before circling back to Frankie.

“This place is a biohazard.”

“Which is why you shouldn't subject someone else to this.”

“Come on, Fish. They’re professionals.”

Frankie sighs, but he doesn’t say yes or no outright. 

“So where to? Let’s go out instead today,” Santiago chuckles.

Frankie can't help but laugh, too. 

-

Santiago gets your phone number from Will’s neighbor. You get a text the next day reading:

Hello, this is Santiago Garcia. I’m looking for someone to clean my friend’s house every week. His name is Frankie Morales and his address is 607 Palm Street. 

You respond:

Hello, Mr. Garcia. I have an opening for Wednesday afternoons. Would that work?

The "typing" icon appears on the screen followed by:

Great. Thank you so much. 

Score! Another job for you. You  wonder why the client’s friend booked you instead of the client himself. Guess you’ll find out on Wednesday.

-

You pull up to the client’s house on Wednesday afternoon, right around two. Judging by the state of the lawn, you have your work cutout for yourself. 

You walk to the front door, dressed in your normal cleaning attire; a t-shirt, leggings and rubber Birkenstocks. It’s your first time meeting here so you brought  supplies of your own. Typically you meet the client first, take a look at the house, and decide who will provide the cleaning supplies,but this client came to you in a strange way. You know nothing about him, nothing about what you’re getting into. You knock on the door and await a response, feeling a little bit nervous about who will answer the door. 

After a moment, the door opens and to your delight, he’s easy on the eyes. You hold out your hand and introduce yourself followed by, “You hired a cleaning lady, Mr. Morales?”

He looks down at your outstretched hand and back at you, a confused look on his face. 

“Damn it, Santiago.” He sighs. “Frankie’s fine.” 

“Ah yes, he’s the one who contacted me.”

Your hand is still reached out, ready for him to shake it. And he does, but you can tell that something’s off here. 

“I can leave if you want me to. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” he sighs, “Come on in.”

You go inside his house and take a look around at the living room and kitchen. …It’s a full on depression cave. Your heart pangs for him. 

“If I had known you were coming, I would’ve straightened up a bit.”

“Not necessary,” you smile, “That’s what I’m here for.”

“I brought some of my own stuff today since I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do. I’ll do a deep clean today and then every week after that it’ll just be a regular cleaning. Does that sound good?”

“Sure,” he nods, a bit nervous still, “I’ll get you cleaning stuff for next time.”

“Sounds good!” you say, wasting no time as you set to work. 

The house is in rough shape,but you don’t say anything. He must be going through something and you get it. You’ve been there a few times yourself. 

You spend roughly five hours at his house; cleaning the dishes in the sink, throwing a load of laundry in, making his bed, vacuuming, dusting, mopping; the works. Frankie can barely recognize the place when you’re done. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with himself while you cleaned. Is he supposed to leave the house? No, what if you need something and what if you’re done before he gets back. He has to pay you. But he also doesn’t want to hover over you either and make you uncomfortable. These are all things he thinks about in the span of your three hours at his house. But ultimately he decides to just sit on the couch, feeling awkward. 

You gather your stuff and head to the door but Frankie stops you. 

“How much for today?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it this time.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you smile, “See you next week!”

And with that, you’re gone. Frankie’s left feeling conflicted. You were technically just forced upon him by Santiago. But… it feels nice to have a clean home again. You did a good job and Santiago was just being a concerned friend. However, there is one thing he’s just gonna bust Santiago’s balls for when he sees him tomorrow. 

-

Thursday afternoon Santiago pulls up to Frankie’s house, same time every week. He gets out of his truck and the lawn is still in the same state. But he knows Frankie’s house will be different. He knocks on the door and Frankie answers almost instantly. 

Santiago steps inside and says, “Wow! Doesn’t even look like the same house. Did you like her?”

Frankie closes the door and turns to face Santiago, arms folded. 

“What?” Santiago asks. 

“You didn’t tell me she was hot!”

“She is? I’ve never met her.”

Frankie sighs. 

“Ah come on, Fish. Maybe I found you a cleaning lady and a girlfriend all in one.” He grins. 

Frankie groans and Santiago laughs. 

“Come on. Let’s hit the Legion. I’m dying for a beer,” Santiago says, clapping Frankie on shoulder. 

-

Over the next few weeks, you come to Frankie’s house every week. The workload becomes significantly less  with each visit. Frankie breaks out of his shell a little too, and you begin tohave wonderful conversations. 

That’s not all you have either. To say there’s underlying sexual tension would be an understatement. It’s practically hanging heavy in the air between you two. Between longing touches and lingering stares, you can’t take it anymore. In fact, one day when you were cleaning his bathroom sink, he scooched behind you to grab something out of his medicine cabinet, his groin fully pressed up against your ass. Fuck, you want him. Not only that, but you’re really falling for him too. He’s such a sweetheart. But you know deep down he’ll never make the first move. 

You’re faced with a moral dilemma. Frankie’s not just anyone.He’s a client. If you make a move and he rejects you, you’re losing a client and he’s losing his cleaning service. Except, you know the tension between you is undeniable. He can’t reject you… right?

-

It’s been six weeks since you started cleaning for Frankie, and today you’re going to do something bold… and a little crazy. 

You’re showing up to his house in sexy maid lingerie. You’ve got the full get up; black stockings with a garter belt attached, a black and white matching bra and panty set, and a short skirt with a lacy apron to match everything. The plan is to clean like normal until he literally can’t resist you anymore. 

Your hands grip the steering wheel nervously, palms slick with sweat. You have a trench coat on to hide your lingerie until you enter his house and now you’re painfully aware of just how cliché this is. 

You pull up to his house and walk to the door, knees feeling weak. You’re wearing heels since you didn’t think your normal rubber Birkenstocks would fit with the lingerie. 

Frankie answers the door before you can knock, something he’s been doing more often now. He takes one look at your attire and says, “A trench coat? Are you feeling sick? You sure you should clean today?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Morales,” you respond, stepping inside. 

“…You know you can call me Frankie, right?” he says, looking down at your choice of shoes… your stocking clad legs.

“I know,” you chuckle, standing by the recliner in his living room. 

Slowly you start to take off the trench coat, revealing more and more of your scantily clad figure. His eyes trail up and down your body, eyebrows raising and mouth agape. 

“Wh-what’s all this for?”

“Just thought I’d clean in something more comfortable,” you say, walking over to his kitchen and bending down to grab something from under the sink. You swear you can hear Frankie audibly gulp. 

You grab microfiber cloths, some furniture polish, and glass cleaner and begin cleaning his kitchen, feeling his gaze from behind you. It practically burns your skin. If this doesn’t do the trick, you don’t know what will. You dust the kitchen, turning to grab a glance at him as you move to his kitchen table. With every movement, you make his eyes follow you and he’s left speechless. 

You move back to his kitchen sink, spraying his window and wiping the glass with the cloth. When you pull the cloth away, you see his reflection in the window. He’s standing behind you and his hands ghost your waist, touching the lacy fabric ever so lightly. 

“If you’re gonna feel me up, just do it,” you tease. 

Your brattiness works because he grabs your waist forcefully, pulling your ass into his groin. 

“You think you can just show up in this skimpy little outfit and expect me to not do something about it?”

“Mr. Morales, I’ve been wanting you to do something for weeks,” you tease, turning around to face him. 

He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he can tell where this is going. 

“On the couch, Mr. Morales,” you command, batting your eyelashes at him. 

He does as he’s told, moving from the kitchen to the living room. He sits on the couch and waits for further instructions all while you grab something else from underneath his sink; a (clean) feather duster. 

You walk from the kitchen to the living room.our heels click against the floor. You stand in front of the couch. With your hands on your hips, you look down at Frankie who’s sitting and waiting oh so obediently for you. 

“I’m gonna need you to strip for me, Mr. Morales.”

He groansbut follows your orders. As he gets up, you notice his cock straining against his sweatpants. And when he pulls his pants down it springs free. 

He sits back down and you kick off your heels, sitting beside him on the couch. You turn to face him puttingyour legs in his lap. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Not yet,” you say, feigning sweetness in your voice. 

You take the feather duster and trace it down his bodystarting at his neck. His breath hitches at the contact of the feathers against his skin. As you move the duster down from his neck to his chest, a trail of goosebumps is left in its wake. He shudders as you swirl the duster around his pecs. 

“How long are you gonna tease me for?” he whimpers. 

“As long as I want to,” you smirk. 

He groans again and you giggle, shifting to straddle his lap. You drag the duster down his chest and abs, stopping at his groin. He whimpers again at the sudden absence of stimulation. 

“Please, I can’t take it anymore,” he begs. 

“Are you begging for me, Mr. Morales?”

“Fuck- yes I am. Please,” he whimpers. 

“Well since you’re being such a good boy,” you giggle, fluttering the duster in circles around his groin. 

You stand up and shed your panties, moving to straddle him again. 

“Can I please touch you?” he asks, with true desperation in his voice. 

“Go ahead,” you say sweetly. 

He brings his fingers by your cunt, trailing his fingers up and down and feeling your wetness. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. 

“Can I finger you? Please?”

“Mhm,” you say with a smirk. 

He brings his fingers to his mouth, moistening them but also tasting you. He hums at the taste, closing his eyes, before bringing them back to your cunt. He slides one finger in slowly, taking the time to feel your warmth; your wetness, before curling it against your walls. It feels good, but you need more. 

“Add another, Mr. Morales.”

“Yeah?” he says, looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“Mhm,” you nod. 

He adds another finger, working your walls and curling them against your g-spot. Then he does something unexpected; something he didn’t ask permission to do. He brings his thumb against your clit, rubbing small circles around it. You want to scold him for doing something without asking, but it feels too good. You’re too deep in bliss to scold him. You throw your head  back in pleasure. Your eyes are closed, lashes fanned against your face. You look like a goddess to Frankie, with your lingerie hugging your figure just right and your breast rising up and down as your breathing quickens. You cum around his fingers, your release soaking down to his wrist. Your walls grip and release his fingers in rhythmic waves before slowing to a halt. 

“I didn’t say you could do that,” you say with shaky breath.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

“Just for that, I tell you when you get to cum. Got it?”

“What?!”

“Mhm. “

He whimpers again and you can't help but laugh. His whimpering turns into a moan when you spit in your hand and start stroking his cock. He’s already rock hard but you want to tease him just a little bit longer. 

“Can I please fuck you already?” he whines.

“You think you’re going to fuck me?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath again.

“Can you please fuck me already?”

“That’s more like it,” you say smugly.

After one last stroke you move your hand away, inching yourself forward  to hover over his cock. You sink  onto him, taking his full length inside you in one swift motion. His large cock stretches your walls, grazing your cervix and making you feel truly full. You bounce and grind on his cock. Although Frankie doesn’t want to admit it, he already feels like he’s going to bust. 

“I’m getting close,” Frankie whines.

You stop moving and say, “Fine. I’ll wait.”

He’s forced to sit there, just feeling your warmth wrapped around him while you’re completely still, waiting until the feeling dissipates.

“Okay, okay. I’m not close anymore,” he says, pouting just a little.

You start grinding against his cock harder, hitting all the right angles inside you. You yourself are going to cum soon. Except now, you want Frankie to cum, feeling him painting your insides while you ride out your high. 

His cock twitches inside you and he’s already close again. 

“Touch me, Frankie.” You moan.

“What?!”

“I said touch me.” You moan again. 

His hands grip your waist before sliding up to your breasts. His hands pull the laces of your bra back and he takes your nipples between his fingertips. God, it feels amazing.

“Cum for me, Frankie.”

“Really?!” he asks excitedly.

“Mhm,” you respond before crashing your lips against his.

You cum at the same time, moaning against each other’s mouths, all while you move your hips back and forth and he pinches your nipples. His cum coats your walls as your hips slowly come to a stop, keeping it inside you as you rest against his cheek. Both of you are exhausted.

“What was that all about?” Frankie sighs, hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“Got tired of waiting around for you to make the first move,” you reply, leaning back to look him in the eye and shrugging.

“I didn’t even know you felt this way,” he chuckles. 

“I know that’s why I had to make it really obvious, Frankie,” you say sarcastically.

You two share a laugh and you lean forward, keeping him inside you as you rest against him. 

“Maybe you could come clean in this more often?”

“Deal.”

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[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is another part of our possessive Harry rec list. If you missed them, you can find part one here and part two here. There are a ton of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll check out. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Back Where I Belong | Explicit | 7,217 words

Harry’s trying to have a conversation with Nick, who he hasn’t seen in nearly three months, but the way Nick’s eyes keep darting over his shoulder every few seconds is quite distracting. It’s ironic, because at least a quarter of the reason that he’s even talking to Nick in the first place is because he needs a distraction. He’s all too aware of exactly what’s going on behind his back. Nick is the one who finally brings it up. “Do you think he’s doing it to spite you?” “He’s definitely doing it to spite me,” Harry answers tightly, resisting the urge to crane his neck around so he can see. He clutches his drink a little tighter, trying to keep his tenuous control over his own movements.

2) Come A Little Closer | Explicit | 9,867 words

Louis puts on lingerie. It's not, like, a thing.

3) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11,438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

4) Please, I'm Begging | Explicit | 13,746 words

Louis is an omega who just wants to be with Harry

5) Rendezvous | Explicit | 15,357 words

"Harry's got a date tonight." Zayn greets him. Louis misses the good old times, when people used to say hello. "Why's he got a date, Louis?" Louis has no time for Zayn's nonsense, he's late to crash Harry's date. He only came here for one thing. "I need the fur coat." he announces. "No questions asked."

6) I’m Kind Of Into It | Explicit | 19,483 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

A pair of eyes follow him, narrowed and if Louis has judged right; assessing. Trying to see if Louis has a favourite. Waiting to see if he gives it up to one of the baying crowd. He doesn't. He straightens up and moves smoothly back towards the intriguing man in the front-row seat. He hasn't moved, bar to clutch his fingers slightly around the edges of the circle-shaped seat; his thighs pushing open a little further as he tucks his ass in; showcasing his dick somewhat. The dress pants do barely anything to cover the jut of that length and Louis makes it his personal mission to make him hard. It's insulting really that he's not already there. He's been dancing for three minutes and if that isn't long enough to incite some interest then what is?

7) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21,835 words

Fed up with the excess energy that’s wreaking havoc on his personal and professional life, Louis asks his boyfriend to dom him in the hopes that it’ll help him relax. Unfortunately, Harry is a bit of a disaster when it comes to being a dom. So, Louis decides to get creative to try and encourage the dominant side out of him.

8) Worth The Wait | Explicit | 29,262 words

In all the words Louis would use to describe a baby shower, the last one he’d ever thought to use was depressing.

9) Can’t Fool Me | Explicit | 30,162 words

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

10) Blue Songs Are Like Tattoos | Explicit | 30,739 words

“Good morning, University of California, you’re listening to KALX 90.7 FM Berkeley, this is DJ Harry Styles. If the owner of the tapes I’ve been finding around the studio doesn’t come forward and introduce himself, I’m going to continue tossing them straight in the trash!”

11) Like It’s A Game | Explicit | 32,223 words

There is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

12) All This Devotion | Explicit | 38,047 words

Louis is Harry’s work wife. The already blurry lines of their friendship are smudged further when they get caught up in a web of lies.

13) Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free (But Please Don’t Bite) | Mature | 42,036 words

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

14) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42,207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

15) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57,077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

16) Not Afraid Of Living On A Fault Line | Explicit | 55,218 words

His eyes widened when he realized he had just somehow managed to ask Harry to hang out. Judging by Harry’s own expression, he wasn't the only one who was shocked. Louis expected him to laugh off the ridiculous request but the beta looked up at him, almost hopefully. “Are you being serious?” “Um,” was all Louis could say, feeling every bit as speechless as Harry had been earlier. “Are you?” Harry shrugged. “I’ve been told I need to get out more.”

17) These Still Waters Run Deep | Explicit | 64,602 words

Having accepted his engagement to Viscount Andrew, Louis is aware that it isn’t a love match and has no wish to be swept off his feet… until he meets the viscount’s brother, Harry, who makes him second-guess everything.

18) King Of My Heart | Explicit | 83,712 words

Harry shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Louis’. “I think since I was young, I craved that feeling, though. I didn’t always hate being a prince, but over time, certain aspects of it just bothered me so much. I remember being four years old and realizing that every person in the world knew my name, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I told my mum as much and she tried telling me that being a prince is not a punishment. That it was a privilege that I should be happy about it, but no one asked me if I was. But looking up at the sky, I remember that all of this will one day mean nothing, and neither will I. All the pressure will then disappear and I could just be.” Louis stayed quiet, allowing Harry the space to open up because he knew Harry wasn’t looking for advice, but just someone to confide in. What he wished he could tell him was that in the short amount of time that he’d known the prince, in Louis’ eyes, he couldn’t be insignificant if he tried. He was brighter than every star up there in the sky. He was all Louis could look at and think about.

19) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100,707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them. Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one. Until two terrible truths are revealed. One, he's adopted. Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers. Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.

20) You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime | Explicit | 113,444 words

Giving up and letting them think they're right were never valid options in Louis Tomlinson's mind. In a society full of prejudices, finding a family and being accepted, also seemed like an unrealistic utopia. Louis sets out to do what no other of his kind ever has before and in doing so, he finds love, friendship and more about himself than he thought he would.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[shardsofmarxx]

Lost | Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Criminal Minds Songfic based on/inspired by the song Lost by Dennis Van Aarssen. (This is a cover of the song "Lost" by Michael Bublé)

Summary: After a long case, Spencer decides to surprise you with a visit to your apartment. Once he arrives, he realizes that you've been struggling, and he does his best to comfort you.

Warnings: Talk of medication, and bipolar II. Reader is clearly going through a depressive episode.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: So sorry for the delay in getting a new fic out!! Between my busy college schedule, my mental health, and writers block, it took me wayyy too long to come up with a solid idea for a fic. I was randomly listening to this song one day and was suddenly hit with the inspiration for this, so I ran with it! I really hope you guys enjoy this one :)

Spencer rushed to his car, excited to see you after dealing with a long case in Florida for the past two weeks. He didn't tell you that the team finished the case because you two just hadn't talked much today. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized you two hadn't talked much at all these past two weeks, aside from casual good morning and goodnight messages. Regardless, he was sure you'd be happy to see him.

Spencer drove out of the parking garage, whistling some tunes and tapping his fingers as he winded down the road to your apartment. He got there relatively quickly, seeing as you only lived a 5 minute drive away from the BAU. He parked his car, got out, and eagerly headed up the stairs to your apartment.

Once he got to the door, he fished out the spare key you had given him when you two first started dating and unlocked the door, opening it very slowly so as not to startle you awake. He walked in, quietly taking his shoes off and placing his messenger bag by the door. He carefully walked through the hall and saw light coming from the living room, accompanied by the low sound of the TV. He stood in the doorway and found you asleep on the couch, watching Friends reruns. As he walked towards the couch, he noticed miscellaneous wrappers and bottles strewn around the floor. He furrowed his brows and diverted his path over to the kitchen, only to find the sink full of dishes and the trash slightly overflowing, along with takeout containers spread across the counter. He walked back into the living room and over to the couch, kneeling on the floor beside you. He looked over at you and moved some stray hair strands out of your face, being careful not to wake you. He saw your eyes were puffy and your cheeks were still a bit wet, which he deduced was from crying.

Spencer’s profiler brain quickly began putting everything together. He knew you had been struggling with bipolar II for a while, but things had been getting better. He made sure that you were seeing the best people in the field for your treatment. Your therapy sessions, along with the current medication you were on, seemed to be working fine, so he didn’t understand why this was happening. There was no way you would have hidden your symptoms that well from him; after all, he was a profiler. He sat there, racking his brain, trying to figure out what could’ve gone wrong.

Suddenly, it hit him.

Spencer quickly, but quietly, got up and walked to the bedroom. As he walked in, he turned on the lights and went straight to the nightstand on the right side of your bed. He quietly looked through the cabinets until he finally found your medication. He picked up the bottle and saw it was much fuller than it should be, confirming his suspicion.

You hadn’t been taking your medication since he left.

Spencer knew this feeling all too well from all the times his mother would refuse her medication. He felt a wave of guilt rush through him as he sighed and returned the bottle to the nightstand. He slowly trudged back to the couch and sat on the floor so that he was right by your face, completely enthralled by your beauty as you slept soundly.

As Spencer stared at you, his mind began to wander. He felt guilty for not realizing the implications of your distance from him over the past two weeks. Although he loved his job, he hated how busy it could get and how it could cause him to neglect the things he cared most about, like you. Most importantly, he felt guilty that he couldn't be there for you. He did his best to push all these thoughts out just as quickly as they came, telling himself that he should just focus on the present. He was here now, and he was going to do anything and everything he could for you. He sat by your side, gently caressing you until you finally awoke, stirring for a few moments until your eyes fluttered open.

“Spencer?” You croaked, your voice slightly raspy from sleep, “What are you doing here?”

“We landed a while ago, and I figured I’d come surprise you,” he replied softly, accompanied by a warm smile.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes for a few moments in an effort to wake yourself up. As you looked around, you realized the mess that was your apartment, and memories of how you'd been spending the past two weeks began to flood your brain. As this was happening, you came to the realization that Spencer has seen all this too, which means he’s definitely figured out that you’re off your meds. You immediately stand up, and Spencer does the same, a look of concern forming on his face as you lead him to the door.

"Well, Spence, this was a lovely surprise, but I have a busy day ahead of me. You really should get going,” I said, handing him his messenger bag. As you reached to open the door, he grabbed your wrist, his warm touch causing you to turn back around.

“Unfortunately for you, I can't be fooled that easily.” His voice trailed. “I'm not leaving you, darling.”

He grabbed the messenger bag from my hand and kneeled down to place it back by the door. He stood back up and placed his hands in yours, giving you a soft look with his warm, hazel eyes.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. All you could do was stare at the floor and mumble. “Nothing's going on, Spencer, really.”

“I doubt you would go off of your medication for nothing,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Listen, I understand that dealing with this kind of stuff is hard, really hard, but you can't keep me in the dark forever. I'm your boyfriend, and I'm always going to be by your side, no matter how hard things get. We're a team, remember?” He paused for a moment and cupped my face, making sure you were looking him in the eyes for his next sentence. "You're not alone, honey. I promise.”

As his words echoed in the room, you felt tears form in your eyes. It had been so long since you had heard those words— so long since you had someone express such genuine care and concern. You were so used to the shame, disgust, and scolding from others in moments like these, yet he displayed none of that. It wasn't long before sobs began to creep out of your mouth, and you stuffed your face into Spencer’s chest. He just held you tightly in response, rubbing his open palm on my backside and whispering words of love and care in your ear as you wept.

Eventually, you lifted my face and met his eyes once more. He gave you a small smile as he gently wiped the tears off your cheek.

“I say we go over to the bedroom and talk; does that sound good?” He asked softly.

“I think that's a good idea,” you answered.

He held your hand tightly as he led you to the bedroom. When he entered, he lay down on the bed first, motioning with his hand to the empty space beside him. You laid down, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in and completely enveloping you in his warmth. You both laid there silently for a few minutes, basking in each other's company. You lost yourself in the sound of his gentle heartbeat for a bit before you remembered what you two were here to do. You took a small breath, lifted your head from his chest, and began to speak.

“I didn't like the way I felt when I was on my medication; nothing felt right once I started taking it. I felt like I was a robot or something.” you began. “One morning I woke up and had enough, so I stopped taking them, and I felt great; I felt alive... Well, at least I did for a bit. After a day or two, it felt like reality just came crashing down and-” You paused, feeling a sob creep up your throat once more. "Suddenly, any trace of happiness was gone, and I crashed. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed, leave the house, or talk to anyone, especially you. I just felt empty.” You stopped for a couple more moments, glancing over at Spencer, before speaking again. “I was lost and didn’t know what to do, Spence, I’m so sorry…” You finished, your voice trailing.

Spencer never stopped comforting you as you spoke, raking his fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to speak up once you had finished.

“Unfortunately, that happens a lot to people when they're on medication. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there for you, honey,” he said, holding you tightly. “We can make an appointment with your psychiatrist to discuss changing your medication as well as looking for other treatments that might benefit you.” Spencer began rambling about various treatments for bipolar II that he had recently read about. Once he got word of your diagnosis, he poured countless hours of research into learning everything there was to know about it. He wanted to make sure that you received the best treatment possible, and, most importantly, he wanted to make you feel as understood as he could. After all, he knew all too well what it was like to not be understood by anyone around you.

He began rambling about things he had found in his most recent research on bipolar II, and you felt your heart swell with joy. Even though all you could really do was nod your head every once in a while and let out a few “mhms'' and “hmms” to assure him that you were listening, mainly because you didn't understand what he was talking about half of the time, you appreciated this more than he would ever know. After all, it was his way of making you feel loved and understood. Eventually, Spencer ran out of things to say and stopped talking. He turned his head down to look at yours, moving some stray strands of hair out of your face before he spoke once more.

“Y’know, because this case took so long, we got a 3-day weekend from Hotch,” he said softly. “I could help you clean up the apartment and keep you company these next few days, if you’d like.”

You met his gaze and smiled warmly at him. “I would love that, darling.”

Spencer smiled back at you and jumped up from the bed. You were barely able to get a word out before he bent over and picked you up, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding you securely against his chest.

“Spence, what’s gotten into you?!” you said, trying to stifle a giggle.

“C’mon, let’s go get breakfast,” he said, wearing a wide grin on his face as he carried you out of the bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any ideas for fics you want me to write in the future, feel free to send them in my ask box!

[heiressofnerdiness]

It seems everyone is split on whether Gabe was “bad enough.” I’ve seen plenty of people talking about how it didn’t hit right, how he was much worse in the books - and then there are people saying that he IS abusive, listing things he’s done (financial control, sally needing permission to leave, answering Sally’s phone, etc), saying it will be more fleshed out later, and, most importantly, that just because it doesn't look like textbook abuse doesn't mean it's not abuse.

What if both are correct?

Here's my take: everything Gabe did is textbook abuse. But here's the problem: the show framed it as a joke.

Remember Thor in Avengers Endgame? How everything he did was textbook depression, yet Disney played it all off for a laugh? This feels almost exactly the same. Turning something that should be serious and giving it a humorous undertone. Gabe feels like a nuisance at best even though what he is doing is definitely not.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the show so far. Maybe it just felt that way because we are seeing it from Percy’s perspective, and the other shoe will drop later. But I couldn’t put my finger on why I agreed with both takes and I finally realized why.

And maybe that’s the point! Because in the beginning of the book even, it seems more lighthearted than when Percy finally realizes what’s been going on when he’s not around. And if that’s also happening in the show, I will have no issues with Sally turning that piece of trash to stone.

[spdrwdw]

How much for a crying absolutely depressed and stressed reader overwhelmed and just..

With a Miguel who comforts them even tho they’re failing because they know they should have done better but they were mentally in a hell hole

Like

I just need a hug

Help

(Don’t go to uni kids…)

I'm sorry you're stressed out, dear 💔 I know uni can be overwhelming and stressful. But you got this! You made it this far, I know you can keep going. Have some Miguel to give you comfort and also know that I am rooting for you! You got this! Same for anyone else who is burnt out and overwhelmed. We can get through it!

Art by onicli on twitter

Pairing: Miguel x f!reader

Warnings: none, just Miggy comforting you during a stressful time, no use of y/n

Summary: Miguel finds you stressed and depressed and tries his best to comfort you.

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

Miguel made his way to your shared apartment after a long day of keeping the multiverse intact and anomalies at bay. It was exhausting at times. It really was. Sometimes he would regret even coming across the multiverse, however, he knew it was fate. He had to be the one to find it and keep everything in line. Plus, he had to keep you safe. You were the most important and precious thing in his life. 

Slipping in through the bedroom window, he noticed how quiet it was. Eerily quiet. But after a second of concentration, he could hear something coming from the living room. It sounded like muffled sniffles and choked sobs. His eyes widened and he immediately busted the bedroom door open, removing it from its hinges. 

You jumped up and let out a yelp in surprise before seeing your boyfriend awkwardly holding the door in his hands. 

“Muñeca?” He blinked when he took a better look at your current state. You were wrapped up in one of your warm, fuzzy blankets. Used tissues were scattered all over the couch and floor. At first, Miguel thought you were sick. But, then he saw the tears that stained your cheeks and the back and forth rocking you were doing. 

Gingerly, he placed the door against the wall.

“Baby, what’s the matter? Hmm? What’s wrong?” He asked as he made your way over to your side in an instant, scooping you up into his arms as he sat on the couch. 

“Ven. Ven aquí, muñeca,” he cooed softly just before you began to burst into tears again, hiding your face against his shoulder. 

“Shh. Shh. Hey, what is it? Why are you crying?” He asked as he rubbed your back, trying to soothe you from whatever it was that was bothering you. 

You simply shook your head as you let out broken sobs. 

“I-I can’t- I-I-I can’t do this anymore,” you choked out. 

“Can’t do what?” He asked, puzzled. At first, he wondered if it was about you two. Was there something going on between the two of you that Miguel wasn’t aware of? Was he neglecting his girlfriend? He had been rather busy these past few days. With working at Alchemax and being Spider-Man and all that jazz. Or..was there an important date that he missed? 

Shit. Was it yall’s anniversary? No. That’s next month..

 “Come on, baby. You can tell me. I’m here for you. Let me know what it is that’s bothering you.”

“I’m just so stressed out. W-with everything. I am trying, Miguel. I really am,” you sniffled. “But, I feel things have just been crumbling all around me. Failure after failure. It feels like I’m burning on fumes. 

First, it was that work assignment I had that didn’t seem to be up to my boss’s standards. I worked so hard with research for that damn thing. I stressed over that assignment! I put up with many sleepless nights due to it. And he just tossed it in the trash! Didn’t even spare a glance at it! 

And then with school. I sometimes wonder if doing grad school is worth it. Like, is it really going to benefit me? All these assignments. All that research and pages and pages of reading and writing just for the professors to glance at it for five seconds and put a big fat F on it because the topic isn’t Nobel Prize worthy or something. It’s just too much and I feel like my brain is going to explode!” You sobbed as you let out a heavy sigh, feeling the tightening in your chest constrict your breathing. 

“I just wish I could figure things out, you know? I feel like I don’t know what I am doing with my life. I don’t know who I am or want to become…and..I just want to know my place in this world.”

Miguel lightly tightened his grip around her, upset that his girl was feeling this way.

“You don’t need to figure anything out. There is nothing to figure out. You know who you are. You know your place. You’ve been working so hard to get to where you are and I am so proud of you for it, muñeca. I know things haven’t been going well, and that’s okay. It’s just a little bump in the road. That’s all. 

We all have our highs and lows. I know I do. I swear I have gray hairs now due to all the stress. But, I push through it, you know. I always see the light at the end of the tunnel.” 

Miguel continued to rub your back before tilting your head up and placed a kiss on your forehead and began to wipe your tears away.

“And I have you to anchor me. You keep me grounded and keep me sane. I push through because I know that you will always have my back and help me get back up should I fall. 

And I am here to do the same with you. I will support you. I will let you cry on my shoulder. I will pick you up when you fall. But, I won’t let you suffer with anything on your own. No matter how big or small the issue. I will be by your side.” 

You sniffled before nodding your head, closing your eyes when Miguel kissed your moist cheeks before placing soft kisses all over your face and lips. 

“I think we both could use a break. From work. From School. And from protecting the multiverse. What do you say? Let’s play hooky and do whatever we want for a day or two,” Miguel suggested, a soft smile on his face. 

“Really?” You asked him, letting out a shaky breath as you tried to calm your nerves. 

Miguel nodded his head as he scooped you back up and carried you to your shared room, settling you onto the bed. 

“Just take slow, steady breaths, baby. Everything is going to be fine and you’ll get out of this slump. Okay? Don’t stress about work. That assignment is over and done with. Move past it. And school. You got so little left to go! And in the end no one is going to care if you got an F or two. Just keep doing your best. Okay?” 

“Okay,” you nodded your head as he helped tuck you into bed before he dissolved his suit and began to get his pjs on. 

He removed his gizmo, placing it on the nightstand and turned it off. Miguel almost never turned his gizmo off, so, seeing that he did made you feel a wave of relief wash through you for a moment. At least you knew he was serious about spending the coming days with you.

As you waited for him to get ready for bed, you stared up at the ceiling, eyes glossing over with tears threatening to fall. You knew you shouldn’t be crying. There was no reason to cry. But, you just couldn’t bear another failed school assignment, or another stressful work project. You felt like a failure. Like an imposter as you try to navigate through your field of work and study. 

“Hey, hey. What did I just say, hmm? No more tears. No more worrying,” Miguel frowned when he saw your glossy eyes as he climbed into bed. 

Wrapping his strong arms around you, he pulled you close to him and peppered the crown of your head with kisses. 

“I know. I know. I just can’t keep my mind from going back to it all,” you apologized. 

“I understand.”

And Miguel did. He understood completely. He had been in those slumps many times before and he was sure he would fall into another one again eventually. But, like he had told you before, he had you to help him keep it all together. 

“Just know that I am here for you, baby. You can rant to me about anything. No worry is too big or too small. But, just know that you’re not alone. I am here. I am always going to be here.”

You nodded your head as you tried to wipe away a stray tear that had managed to fall.

“Thank you, Miguel. Really. It means a lot to me,” you told him, giving him a small smile. And it did mean a lot to you, knowing that you had him by your side to support you. Knowing that he was cheering you on. It meant a lot.

“And you can always tell me about anything, too, Miggy. While I may not understand all that multiverse jumbo, you can talk to me,” you assured him.

Miguel smiled, a slight gleam in his eyes. “I know, muñeca. I know you’re here for me. And that’s what keeps me going. Your love and your support.

Now. Let’s get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow is a new day and a fresh start. Leave all that worry behind.”

“Okay,” you nodded, nuzzling yourself closer to his warmth.

"Oh..don't forget to fix the door, please," you suddenly reminded him.

Miguel let out a chuckle, tightening his grip around you a bit. "I won't baby. Promise."

His strong heartbeat began to lull you to sleep, for morning would bring you a new day with no stress. And you couldn’t wait.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Merry Christmas, Goofball

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe gets an extra gift at his family Christmas!

(Tiny part two to - Part 1)

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

————————————————————————-

December 27, 2023

(Joe’s pov)

The past two days had been boring, empty, quiet, and all the negative adjectives.

I made the drive down to Athens today for Christmas with my family.

We were having it two days after Christmas to accommodate my brother’s having to go to their in-laws.

It was just going to be the same as last year, watching the kids play, and adult couples sit at the table while drinking wine together.

I fit in with neither group. So I either sat on the couch to watch a football game, or I'd sneak off to my old bedroom and play video games.

Whatever the plan ended up being, I was going to try to get away from this scene.

After all the grandkids opened presents from my mom and dad, it was my time to drift away from the group.

I grabbed a trash bag and gathered all of the wrapping paper and empty gift bags.

When the trash bag was full, I snuck into the kitchen and laid It by the backdoor to be taken out.

Once I did a quick look around and knew no one was watching, I opened the basement door, but before I could reach a foot out for the first step, I felt a huge hand on my shoulder.

Immediately, my shoulders dropped. I'd been caught.

“Not this year.” - Jimmy

I turned around to see my dad and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…” - Joe

“Don't apologize, son. I know it’s awkward since y/n can’t be with you.” - Jimmy

“Yeah, it really is. I don't fit in with the kids obviously, but I don't want to be the only adult in there without a partner with them.” - Joe

“Your mom and I are sorry for making you feel left out, so we got you an extra gift.” - Jimmy

“Huh?” - Joe

“It's on the front porch.” - Jimmy

I gently pushed past my dad and walked through the sea of people, making a beeline for the front door.

Out of nowhere, everyone fell silent, like they were anticipating my reaction.

After giving everybody a confused glare, I opened the door.

My heart stopped when my eyes fell on my extra gift.

“Baby?!” - Joe lept forward and grabbed you

I held her as tight as possible and spun her around, still trying to understand how and why this was happening.

“Hi, Joey.” - you giggled

Her legs were wrapped around my waist as I held her up in my arms.

“What are you doing here?” - Joe

I sat her back down on the ground, my arms never leaving her waist.

“You think I'm not gonna visit my boyfriend when he's in Athens? You were like thirty minutes away instead of two hours, couldn't pass on seeing your smiling face.” - you

“Shit, I didn't even think of that. I was so busy moping around that I forgot I was actually in Athens, where you are.” - Joe

She playfully rolled her eyes before pressing a long kiss to my lips.

Suddenly, there was a voice coming from behind us.

“I see you found your gift. Hi y/n!” - Robin

I smiled at my mom before y/n hugged her, they pulled away, and y/n said something to her.

“Thank you for inviting me, Robin.” - you

“Oh of course sweetie! He’s been walking around depressed like Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh all day. I knew you were the only thing capable of making him smile.” - Robin

y/n laughed and I felt myself blushing, not just from embarrassment but also from that gorgeous laugh.

“He loves you so much.” - Robin whispered

I know my mom attempted to whisper, so only y/n could hear… but she failed miserably, and I heard anyway.

“I love him too… so much.” - you told Robin

“Good.” - Robin smile

A few seconds of silence went by before my mom spoke up again.

“Well, I won't bother you guys… feel free to sneak off to the basement like you do every year, Joe. Enjoy your time together!” - Robin smiled before walking away

When she walked away, y/n and I embraced once again before I took her hand and led her toward the basement.

“Am I gonna see the iconic Star Wars room, Joey?” - you

“How do you know about that?” - Joe grinned

“I watch your interviews.” - you shrug

“Stalker.” - Joe scoffed jokingly

“At least I didn't ask a nineteen-year-old out when I was twenty-six.” - you mumbled

I stopped so abruptly that she crashed into my back.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Think I shouldn't have?” - Joe

“What? No! I was just joking.” - your eyes went wide

“Don’t joke about that shit! It's not funny.” - Joe

Grimacing when I realized I raised my voice, I watched y/n’s body language change completely.

“Sorry…” - you looked down

“Wait… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I didn't mean to, baby…” - Joe

“It’s okay. I won't joke about it again. I was playing around and didn't think you'd take it seriously, but I should've known.” - you

“Can we just drop it? I don't want to argue right now.” - Joe looked at you with sincere eyes

“I’d love that. Can we just chill downstairs and cuddle?” - you

“I thought you'd never ask.” - Joe grinned

——

After an hour of cuddling and watching a movie, y/n and I went back upstairs to find my family getting the gingerbread house kits out.

“Oh, hell no.” - you mumbled

“We can go back downstairs.” - Joe laughed

“Can we please? I have beef with gingerbread houses.” - you

I laughed realizing she copied my line about dry ingredients from a few days ago, and took her hand to go back down to my room.

“Uncle Joe!” - Joe’s nephew

Turning around to see my little nephew, I wondered what he wanted.

“Yup?” - Joe

“Look.” - Joe’s nephew

The five-year-old pointed to the doorframe above me and y/n, where a mistletoe hung.

I looked at y/n with a big smile, and we both shrugged at the same time before leaning in to kiss each other.

Because I wasn't a fan of PDA, we haven't ever kissed in front of someone. Other than y/n’s family watching through the windows when I dropped her off.

But right now, as everyone whistled and watched us kiss under the mistletoe, I'd never felt so happy.

We pulled away from each other after a solid minute, with huge grins on our faces from ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - Joe

“Merry Christmas, goofball.” - you laughed

————————————————————————-

Authors note: I felt like the fic needed a second part…. CHRISTMAS FICS ARE OFFICIALLY DONE.

This came from my own head! 🫶

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[blooming-violets]

Nicest Thing Peter x Reader for 11. In joy? I really like that fic. I reblogged it on my old account. I feel like thats an underrated fic of yours (maybe bc it came out in 2022? Idk). Would love to see what happened to them!

It's still one my favs because it is just so...me?? Like if I had to chose anything that represented my personality perfectly, it would be Nicest Thing. Just a depressed, sad bitch who loves angst and Peter Parker and enjoys Kate Nash. I feel like I need another Kate Nash song for this "sequel" fic. I'll base it off her song Trash because these two are trash for each other.

You can read this as a separate, on its own Peter x Reader thing if you'd like or you can read it as a future piece to Nicest Thing.

Warnings: Smoking a joint and getting stoned

If porn bots can over take all the tags then I better not get flagged for these gifs.

Peter looked at her through blazed out, squinting eyes. A haze of smoke filled their bathroom as they passed the joint back and forth between them. They were seated in the unfilled tub, fully clothed, and facing each other. She had made him take the spot next to the faucet under the claims that sitting over the drain made her feel “icky” like she might get sucked in. He didn’t mind. Even if their leaky faucet kept dripping cold water over his shoulder. 

“Do you remember the Rugrats episode when Tommy and Chuckie are afraid of getting sucked down the bathtub drain because Angelica tells them a story of some other baby who died that way?” He asked, handing her off the joint. 

She placed it between her lips and he watched with a slow blinking, admiration for her. He loved her. She had been with him through everything. He owed his entire life to her. Without her in his life, he would no longer be here. She was everything important in the world. 

She smiled, remembering, and let out the most beautiful laugh. She always got extra giggly when they smoked. It was one of his favorite sounds. 

“Don’t they fill the drain with play-doh and shit? It’s a weird reddish, pink color. Why do I remember that specific color so much?” She replied, mystified. 

Peter chuckled, “Because old school Rugrats was filled with some crazy ass imagery. It sticks in your mind.” 

“Yeah but I remember thinking that I specifically wanted to eat that color...like maybe it would taste nice…like the imaginary food from Hook.” She passed it back to him, letting the smoke exhale in a little, circular puffs from between her lips. 

“Do you want to get into a pretend food fight with me and see if anything appears?” He grinned. 

Her red rimmed eyes squinted back at him as she laughed, “With the way these munchies have been hitting me the past few minutes, I think it might actually happen. I could imagine food hard enough to make it show up.” 

His mind started to wander as a hungry smile spread across his face, imagining all the food he could eat, and he spoke with a dreamy whisper, “Pizza bagels.”

“What?”

“Let’s make pizza bagels. ‘M hungry. Starvin’. Gonna die if I don’t get some food in me.” 

Her eyes glowed with excitement at the idea, “Pizza bagels. Yes, you’re a genius!” 

“I know,” he giggled, it bubbled out of him without any self control. It wasn’t the weed that did it. It was her. He felt free when he was with her. He flicked out the joint against the ashtray balancing on the edge of the tub. “I really am. Smartest man alive, probably.” 

She snorted, “Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. Get your ego in check, Parker, before I have to slap some sense back into you.” 

He beamed at her, his love consumed him, feeling it outshine every other emotion rattling around inside of him. She was beautiful. Stunning. Picture perfect. He wanted to hang her up on his wall like an expensive piece of art so he could admire every day of his life. 

Her shoulders shrunk up to her ears under the intensity of his gaze.

“Stop that,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me with those eyes or I’ll kick you. I’ve got a perfect aim for your crotch in this position.”

Peter shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I refuse. I can’t help it. You look…perfect. The nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“You’re stoned.” 

“Yes. Doesn’t change the fact that your lips look very enticing.” He winked at her and tried to scoot forward to get a taste. 

Her socked foot landed against his chest, pushing him back in place, “I thought we were making pizza bagels, not kissing. Weren’t you just starving a minute ago?” 

“Starving for you, maybe.” 

“Peter!” She let out a loud laugh, keeping him at bay with her outstretched leg. 

He was so in love. Completely enamored. Whipped. Head over heels. Trash for her. Whatever he wanted to call it. He belonged to her so wholly. His bleeding heart was in her hand for the rest of his life. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again. 

“If you don’t let me kiss you right this very second, I am going to turn this shower on.” His hand reached over his shoulder to grip onto the shower knob with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

She gave a sharp inhale, “You wouldn’t dare.” 

His eyebrows raised, taking on that challenge, “Oh really?”

She knew she fucked up the second before the shower burst to life. From his position in the tub, it shot over his head to spray directly into her face. She shrieked and fell back, sliding down the sloped edge of the tub until she was nearly on her back.

It was all the opportunity he needed to pounce. He leapt on top of her to the sound of her laughter and blocked the shower stream from her face with his back. His arms wrapped protectively around her head as he laid over her. Water pooled around them, warming their bodies, and soaking through their clothes. 

They didn’t feel it. 

All he could feel was the devoted love burning a hole in his chest where his heart used to be. 

She giggled up at him, blinking water droplets from her eyes, and whispered, “You’re an ass.”

He laughed in response and crashed his lips over hers, mumbling against them, “You love me.” 

She sighed in content. Her arms snaked around his neck to draw him closer, melting happily into his kiss. 

“I do.”

[loveswrites]

Is love enough? Poly Joe x Love x reader

Poly! Joe Goldberg x reader x Love Quinn

Time it took me: 5 hours spread out a few days

Word count: 1058

I asked you guys on a poll if you guys would like a poly xreader with Joe and love and you guys definitely did! So Let me know how you guys like it! The closer I got to the end I was thinking about making this one into a mini series! As I could do a lot more with this one! Tell me if you'd like a part two!

When you finish reading tell me. Do you think love is enough?

Love <3

"Depression makes you do crazy shit Joe!"

"That doesn't make sense, Love! just accept the fact that you killed her for no reason but the fact that you can't control yourself!" Joe yelled at love with wide eyes. 

"I can't control myself? I can't control myself?! You were the one obsessing over yet another woman! What did you expect me to do?! We have a family!" Love yelled back at Joe with tears in her eyes. But they weren't tears of sadness.

"Babes? What's with all the yelling what's going-... on.." You questioned coming down the stairs but paused seeing exactly what the yelling was all about.

"What happened?.." You whispered. On the ground all you saw was blood and the body of some blonde. 

"What are you doing here!?" Love and Joe yelled in unison.

"You told me to come pick up Henry so you could finish on some things- What happened!" You yelled, snapping out of your explanation of your presence.

"I- I she fell-" Love attempted to say but you quickly cut her off.

"Into an Ax!?" You yelled.

"It was an accident!" Love tried defending herself.

"What the fuck! What the actual fuck? I- Where is Henry?!" You yelled out looking around the dark basement for the child you came to pick up.

"He's over there he is fine!" Love gestured to Henry who was literally a baby in a corner.

You watched as Joe paced the floors as you could only assume he was thinking about what to do about this.. situation that lies in front of you three.. and a half. 

You Joe and Love were in a relationship together. It was a loving happy relationship you felt secure in some aspects of it. Besides that fact that you never knew if the police would show up at your front door and arrest you was all. It was one of the things that made the loving happy relationship feel a little less secure. Also with love's impulsive behavior and Joe's constant need to have a new fixation every other month put a damper on the relationship at times. But none of that stopped you from loving them both. And them loving you. 

"You said no more. No more killing. No more death. A fresh start and a New beginning. And Joe you no more.. obsession plus the killing also." You whispered shifting your eyes between you two lovers. 

"How can neither of you keep your promise?" 

"I haven't killed anybody!" Joe yelled.

"But you stalk! And you creep! And you lie and cheat on both me and Love! Why?! Why are we not enough for you? I keep your secrets, I'm there when you're scared! When you're scared that you might do another bad thing! And you Love I'm there for you every sleepless night when Joe is gone! We were all supposed to be happy here! But since we're all killing and lying, I'm going to tell the truth I hate it here! I hate the suburbs I'm a fucking city girl I don't belong here yet I am trying to adapt for you for you both because I love you! You both ripped me apart from a city that I loved so much to lie in a house with two people that I thought loved me more than I loved that city just to feel like some neglected piece of trash! I hope to God Henry never feels like this- Oh wait he probably already does since he's facing a corner chilling in a room with a dead body!" You screamed with so much pent up aggression you snatched up the baby carrier that held Henry.

"Pleas-" Joe started but you cut him off without turning to face them.

"Don't call me, don't text me. Fix your mess then maybe me and Henry will come back." You said causing panic to rush through both of their veins.

"Maybe?!" Love yelled her eyes widening. 

"What do you mean maybe?! I love you, there is nothing that I wouldn't do to make you stay!" Joe yelled.

"Shut up." You said, shaking your head as you walked up the stairs leaving the bakery. 

When you've been in a relationship with basically two insane people you learn when their threats mean you harm or not. In that case Joe threatened you out of fear. Not anger. He was never angry at you much. He got mad at Love more than he would you. Him and Love fought more than you, him and love ever did combined. Which you couldn’t lie was understandable because seeing that their habits could land us all in jail. You’ve never killed anybody but that still doesn’t make you a good person. 

You’ve lied for them. Threaten people for them. Even though Joe and Love do their best to keep their dirty habits away from home, it’s inevitable that one of those habits will come knocking on your front door. You’ve helped with the..bodies. So no matter how sick it makes you or how bad you feel about it you are and will forever be an accomplice to their crimes for no other reason than the fact love makes you do crazy things. 

When you got to your car you went to buckle Henry into his car seat. He was crying. You almost missed that.. How could you miss a screaming baby? As you tried to zone yourself out of your deep thoughts about your two loves you tried calming the only love that mattered right now. You found it hard to do this as tears rolled down your own face. Who was going to calm you down with their love? As you shhh henry to calm down rocking him in your arms on the side corner of the bakery you started to think what if this was all?

What if this was it? 

What if all your life now consisted of was lying, hiding, running, crying, screaming, fighting, shovels, dirt and muddy midnights. But at least you had your two lovers by your side, That’s all that matters right? Could the love between three people be enough to grow into a happy family?

Getting into the driver's seat you started the car. And as you drove away from the bakery you couldn’t help but think, is love enough?