#to every single one of these people <333 not only them. from the bottom of my heart i wish bad things on people who are so disgustingly

[widevibratobitch]

Polish Witcher fans are just evil fucking people and i hate them so much <3

[shubblelive]

— PAGES TURNED

summary : wilbur is a quiet guy, but there’s so much more to him than he shows. over swapped shifts, post it notes and paperback novels, you unravel him bit by bit.

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of alcohol/drinking

pairing : musicianbur x fem!librarian! reader

pronouns : none (i think) reader is described as a “girl” and using other feminine descriptors

featuring : cc!wilbur soot, musicianbur, college!librarian! wilbur

word count : 2.6k

note : sorry this took. one million years. i had my exams and i turned 17, and then i went out of state to visit family, but i’ve had this in my drafts and i’ve been working on and off for a while. i hope you enjoy this, i’m thinking about maybe making it multi part? if people are into that? @starsyoubreaklikesugardust <333

You sincerely regret covering for your coworker. The campus library has a consistent, albeit small, staff. You work the same days every week; Monday morning, Tuesday afternoon and Thursday morning. The head librarian, Theresa, was more than willing to give you extra shifts whenever you needed. The library was where most of the richer students’ parents donated, and you were insanely lucky to get your job there. As a result of the consistent schedule, you work with two people regularly; Henry, who shares your major, and Janine, who’s one of the sweetest people you know. The rest of your coworkers, you knew exclusively through Theresa and her insistence of having staff get togethers at any opportunity.

There’s Chastity, who lives on your floor, and her girlfriend Kate. You got a front row seat to their first kiss after three months of egging them on with Janine at Henry’s 20th birthday. There are three more workers that work during the week on alternating shifts to you; Sam, the newest member of the term; Hae-Won, the only person who had worked there longer than you and Theresa; and Wilbur.

Wilbur, who was currently your new coworker as you started working five days a week. Hae-Won’s mother was sick, and Theresa had begged you to cover for them while they flew interstate to go take care of her. You’d been working at the campus library since you were a freshman, and they’d always been good to you. You had agreed, and now you were needing to rush from class to the library after every single one of your lectures. Sam, Henry and Theresa had all assured you that if you were late because of class you wouldn’t lose your job, but you felt bad leaving them with all the work.

Wilbur has barely spoken a word to you since you’d started working the same shifts. He’s not rude or angry, just quiet as far as you can tell. You like him. You both keep to yourselves, and Wilbur doesn’t snitch on you for smuggling your sandwiches out of the office when you browse the stacks during your breaks.

He doesn’t get mad at you for being late when you are, and he always puts stuff on the top shelf whenever you ask. He’s soft, and incredibly smart. You learn about him through hushed evenings in the office, both of you dead on your feet after you’ve locked the doors, neither of you wanting to leave quite yet. The low light gives his eyes an amber glow the same colour as sun as it peeks through the slats in the blinds of the office, surrounded on all four sides by large windows. The fishbowl, the kids call it when they come in on Friday afternoons. Not quite, you think. You’re both too boring to be fish, you make a joke when you hear a young boy say it. Wilbur gets a look in his eyes that he keeps for the next hour until you confront him. “Sometimes people don’t look a fish ‘cause they’re interesting,” he all-but whispers when you ask, eyes aglow and top row of teeth pulling on his bottom lip. “Sometimes they’re just pretty.”

You get to know Wilbur over campus coffees, and handmade bookmarks inspired by the paperbacks he checks out every week. Through his handwritten post-it note on the corner of the main monitor at the front desk, a stack of books with a cat perched on top, his writing slanted but mainly kept between the spines of each book. A request for a novel you’ve never heard of, but vow to search for. Theresa is the one who handles incoming books, but that’s not going to stop you from finding it yourself.

You begin to find those sticky-notes around more and more. There’s one resting on top of your backpack for you to find as you return from the bathroom. That’s a pretty skirt, the first one says. You should wear your hair like that more often, one three days later on the stack of returns he’s asked you to reshelve. There’s one a week after that forces a smile on your face. This made me think of you. It’s resting on a tiny journalist style notebook, one where you flip on the top. It’s got a quote from your favourite novel on it, and you slip the sticky note inside it gingerly, tucking it into the front pocket of your backpack. That afternoon during your lunch break, you go to the craft store instead of staying in and get yourself some post it notes. Yours are in the shape of a lemon, and when Wilbur goes into the fishbowl to grab his stuff once your shift is over, he finds one stuck to the side of his bag. Two words, ten numbers, all in your handwriting. Call me.

So he does, he calls you that very night. Despite the late time, you guys stay on the phone for nearly three hours. The next shift you two share, you tease him. “I thought you were meant to be the quiet type,” you giggle as his ears turn pink, him intentionally facing away from you to shield the smitten grin on his face as he pretends to write something on the staff calendar. “You had a lot to say the other night.”

It continues that way for a while, nightly phone calls in which you finally get to hear him talk unabashedly about the things he’s interested in. He’s in a band, he confesses shyly one night when you’re both on the verge of sleep. You don’t reply for a second, and he thinks you might have dozed off. You pipe up after a moment, voice heavy with sleep and Wilbur thinks he can’t possibly like you more. “Your first gig’s Saturday, right?” He nods, even if you can’t see him. You keep going anyway. “I’ll be there.”

He wishes you hadn’t told him, because he spends the next three days stressing. Performing always makes him a little anxious, a healthy amount of butterflies, as his friends say. But this is too much. He changes his shirt three times on Saturday night, twice because he wants you to like it, and another time because he sweated through the third one. He blames it on the intensity of the lights, when the drummer asks him if he’s okay, but they can all see the way his eyes are locked onto your frame, tucked into a little corner of the underground bar they’re playing. They play for about forty minutes, and you’re a little embarrassed to admit that you’ve never heard a single song they did.

Wilbur goes into the little backstage area after their last song, and his bandmates will swear he’s never moved so fast in his life. He’s chugging a bottle of water while trying to wrestle his guitar off his back, his glasses fogged up from the sweat covering his face. there are a few bothersome strands sticking to his cheeks, but he doesn’t care about that. He just wants to see you.

He gets to your corner and the table is empty. No, the table has things on it. Your chair is empty. There is something on the table. He reaches it and flops down into the chair you were just sitting in. A waitress brings him a glass of lemonade that you ordered for him and he gulps it down gratefully. He allows himself a few moments to bask in the post-show high. You might not be there, but that only brought his mood down slightly. He did it.

He is a little hurt that you didn’t stick around, but it’s nearing 10 and he knows you have a test on Monday. He takes another long swig of his drink, and reaches blindly for the one other object on the table; a paperback novel. It’s his favourite. He didn’t even remember telling you it was his favourite, but somehow you knew. His heart hammers inside his chest and he has to remember how to breathe for a second. He’d looked everywhere for that, even going as far as to see if he could order it online.

He flips open the cover, just to check, and he finds a scrawled message beneath the title page. Heard you were hoping to get your hands on one. I hope you enjoy. You’ll have to tell me all about it.

And he does. It takes him less than a week to read the entire book, and he comes to you on a random Thursday, eyes sparkling with a glint you’ve only ever seen that one night he was performing, and he leans over the front desk where you’re standing and before you can even process it he’s taking your head in his hands and pulling you into a firm hug. You’re not as tall, so you’re on your toes as you lean over the desk, struggling to wrap your arms around his torso as he hugs you.

And then he’s talking, loud and clear, and if the library was open people would be giving him dirty looks for how unashamedly he’s speaking to you. You revel in it. He keeps his hands enclosing yours and you lean over the desk to get as close to him as you can, wanting to absorb every single word out of his mouth. Wanting to breathe it in and keep it between your ribs.

Eventually he lets you go to go do some work, but you decide at that moment that you never want him to shut up again.

So, he doesn’t. With constant encouragement from you, Wilbur becomes more outspoken. Of course, there were the phone calls, but he was still reserved in person. He seems to take up more space over the next few weeks, unfurling slowly like an old painting, perfectly preserved with so much beauty to show once he was out in the open. It starts as small things, the way he calls out to you across the library after closing instead of approaching you to tell you softly. You’re almost in mourning, feeling like you’d lost that closeness with Wilbur that only you seem to have. The notion that once you put something out into the world it no longer belongs to you. Not that he ever did, not like that at least.

You’d feel like that and then Wilbur would do something so small, so sacred, that your heart would ache. Whispering jokes in your ear, fingers brushing yours when he passes you a book he thinks you’ll enjoy, grabbing onto both of your hands when he got so excited about something that he needed a physical tether to you to stop himself from floating away, into the air that he was now filling so wonderfully.

The others started noticing it too; Theresa mentioning to you how much more confident he seemed after he’d left the room, Sam, who brightened now that Wilbur seemed to return his enthusiasm, even the bassist of Wilbur’s band, who you ran into at a coffee shop, said he was different.

His band got another gig at a bigger bar, and of course you were invited again. This time you planned on sticking around for the whole thing, letting him wrap you in a sweaty hug once he ran off stage. “You were so good,” you gush, your breath on his ear sending shivers down his spine. His hands ghost up and down your arm, and you can’t bring yourself to let go of him. “But, Wil. Seriously, enough is enough.”

He pulls away just enough to get a clear picture of your face, shadows covering one side, the dim lighting in the venue not doing enough to take away from just how pretty you look.

“You guys need to start playing songs I know the words to.”

Your fake annoyance makes him laugh, one of the most genuine laughs you’ve ever heard from him. Warm, and thick, like caramel. Like his eyes when the two of you are huddled together in the fishbowl and he’s laughing, like there will never be enough time to spend with you. Because there isn’t.

His hands stop in their motions, and he notices your bare arms. “You’re freezing, lovely. Here.” He steps away from you and shrugs off his button up, leaving him in just a white-sleeved tee as he guides your arms in. The sleeves cover your hands and he goes as far as to roll them up delicately. His face is an inch from yours as he unwraps his hands from your wrist, and your fingers toy gently with a stray curl that bounces when you release it from your grip.

This time it’s you who takes Wilbur’s jaw in your hands, fingers running over his stubble. He’s drunk, hasn’t had a drop of alcohol the entire time, but well and truly intoxicated as he pulls you into him again, nose pressed to your hairline. “I’m so proud of you.” You mumble into his shoulder, and for a second, time is frozen.

You’re both brought out of it by rousing cheers from Wilbur’s bandmates, the guitarist and drummer both bullying Wilbur for not introducing you to them earlier. The bassist greets you warmly, and the three of them try to convince you both to go out for a drink. Wilbur’s the one who ends up ushering you out, arm around your shoulders as he placates his bandmates. Throwing a “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow at work,” over his shoulder as he steered you towards his car.

He’s only half lying. You do both have work the next day, however the library’s closed and Theresa’s hosting a party to thank everyone for their hard work. It starts at two, so you’re revelling in the fact that you get to sleep in. That doesn’t stop you from inviting Wilbur up to your apartment, though. Nor does it stop the two of you deciding to watch a movie together on the couch in your living room. It doesn’t even stop Wilbur from whispering to you while the credits roll. “You look so lovely tonight.” You flush, tearing your eyes from his face, looking down at where his hands are on your waist instead. “Can I kiss you?”

It definitely doesn’t stop you from nodding your head emphatically, your hands delving into his hair as he presses his lips to yours for the first time.

He tastes like spearmint gum and the mango of your lip gloss, his hands steadying you both and gripping onto the couch cushion. He pulls away just enough to murmur, “You’re wonderful,” and suddenly you’re so happy you’re laughing. He laughs too, taking your head in his hands until you’re kissing him again, and when he leaves nearly two hours later he’s gripping your hands so tight your breath hitches, promising he’ll see you at the party later.

And hours later, when you’re sipping on lemonade and leaning against one of the windows of the fishbowl, he sidles up to you and leans his head on top of yours. “My pretty girl.” Your hand wraps around his, and the two of you stand there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, watching your coworkers mingle. He’d never been so outward in his affections, not when surrounded by people you both worked with. He was a reserved man, preferring to let loose around his family, his bandmasters, and you. But of course, that doesn’t stop him from pressing a kiss to your hairline, the two of you inside the library office, gazing outside into the rest of the library. “So so pretty.”

[happy-hermit]

HI GUYS I'M BACK ON MY BULLSHIT <333

Have some Scar angst featuring Clockers comfort :) Enjoy!!!

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Scar kills Cleo.

He doesn’t mean to do it, doesn’t mean to break the rules, doesn’t mean to hurt his own ally. It’s still a shock that he even has allies — it is still something that hits him all over again, every time he opens his eyes and they're still there. 

But Scar kills Cleo. They won’t be there for much longer. 

“You dropped it right on her head,” Bdubs says, solemn, and Scar feels sick. His heart is skipping in his chest, his breath is frozen in his lungs. His hands feel like they’re being assaulted by pins and needles. 

He’s made a mistake. He’d known, of course, that it was only a matter of time, but. Well. Sometimes he likes to pretend. 

He can’t anymore. Not now. Not after that. 

And Cleo didn’t even seem all that mad, is the thing. She hadn’t yelled, hadn’t even frowned, really. She’d been quiet though, at first. And she’d laughed after, but— But people could laugh and still be mad, couldn’t they? And Bdubs had seemed pretty disappointed. 

Scar can’t do anything right. If they hadn’t known that before, they certainly did now. 

Scar kills Cleo.

 That night, he packs his bags. 

It’s not at all hard to sneak out, which is a fun change of pace. Cleo slept like, well, like the dead, and Bdubs had fully mastered the art of sleeping at this point. Nothing short of breaking the bed was going to get him out of it. So Scar just… walks by. He’s got what little possessions he’s collected stored safely in his bag, and the rest he’s left for them. They’ll make better use of things than he will, he’s sure. 

The night is clear and quiet, the same stars as always hanging silently in the sky and watching him while he walks. Those little twinkling lights have been witnesses to every misstep and mistake he’s ever made. He was a bit surprised that one of them hasn’t yet taken it upon themselves to fall out of the sky and end his misery. Though he supposed that might’ve been the moon's true motive. Maybe it had been rude to avoid the inevitable crash. 

Tonight, though, the stars stay where they are, and Scar does not. 

He walks by the Bad Boys burned mansion, the earth around it scorched and bare. He looks up towards the roof for a while, thinking. He almost wants to go up there and find Grian, because at least Grian makes sense. At least Grian hurts him in a way that he is used to. 

Selfish, he thinks, shaking his head and turning away. Grian never meant it; he isn’t cruel. Scar just tends to awaken in people the need to get away, is all. Like how all anyone ever thinks about when carrying a heavy object is a place to put it down. 

Scar wanders for a bit, dodging mobs as he stumbles through the darkness, until finally the sun starts to rise. Scar drops his bag down at the bottom of a hill and sits down heavily beside it, as dim light transitions to golden rays. He’s not going to build on a mountain, he resolves. Not this time. Not when he’s trying not to be noticed.

He eats a quick breakfast of steak and bread,  heavy silence sitting like a cloak on his shoulders, and then he starts carving a hole into the hill. He spends the rest of the day like that, hollowing out a home as hollow as he feels, ignoring the buzz of his communicator in his pocket. Either someone was trying to get a hold of him, or no one had noticed at all. He’s not sure which he would prefer, and so he doesn’t look. He doesn’t look, and he tries his best not to think about it, either. He builds a new base of stone and brick into the hillside, and then he shuts the door behind him and lies in bed and doesn’t sleep. 

There is the steady and faint noise of water leaking through the roof across the room, single drops of water falling in intervals into the bucket he’d placed haphazardly before crawling under the covers. There is the crackling of the oven a few feet away, still warm from the steak he’d cooked earlier. There is the quiet howling of wind from outside, as it tugged on grass and trees and at his door. He can hear himself breathing, can hear it hitch as soon as he becomes aware of it. 

He’s cold, and he shivers, tugging the blanket up further as he stares at the ceiling. There’s moisture stinging at the corners of his eyes, and there is a lump in his throat, and even though there is no one around to hear he still can’t quite break the habit of crying silently.

He wakes up to birds singing, and dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Scar sits in bed for a moment, lost, and then he grabs his hoe and wheat seeds, and he goes outside. 

There are a few pigs on his hill that he spends an hour herding into a pen, and then he finds a good stretch of land and gets to work tilling it. By the time the seeds are planted and watered, it’s mid afternoon, and Scar jumps straight into cutting down a few trees for wood. His muscles are sore and straining, but still he swings the axe. As evidenced by the unintended brutal murder of his pretend mother, he really doesn’t know when to quit. 

At least now with no one else around, there is no one else to hurt. It’s just him. Which is fine, really, because he’s done it before. He knows how it goes. This is how they play the game. 

So Scar is not expecting anyone to come after him. Which is probably why he almost takes Bdubs’ head off with his axe when he’s suddenly just there.

“You’ll clear out the forest at this rate,” Bdubs says casually, very close behind him, and Scar yelps in alarm and spins around mid swing. “Maybe you— Hey, watch it!”

It’s only thanks to Bdubs short stature and quick duck that his head remains on his shoulders, and in the aftermath they stare at each other with wide eyes and heaving lungs.

“Bdubs,” Scar manages, strangled and high-pitched, and then he rapidly clears his throat, pasting on a smile. “You— I didn’t see you there! Not that—”

“If you’re going to make a short joke I will stab you on the spot,” Bdubs grumbles, and he tears the axe out of Scar’s slack hands, throwing it to the ground a few feet away. “I’ve been out all night looking for you, I hope you appreciate the lack of sleep I’ve had to endure.”

Scar stares, awkward smile slipping a little as his mind sluggishly attempts to comprehend the conversation. 

“Why?” Scar asks eventually, interrupting the other’s unintelligible grumbling as he smooths his clothes. “Did I forget something? Or— I didn’t take something of yours by accident, did I?”

Bdubs goes still and looks up, brow furrowed slightly and eyes unreadable. “Did you— You forgot to say goodbye, for one thing!” Bdubs crosses his arms and glares at him. “And didn’t tell us where you were going! And didn’t answer our messages! You— You disappeared!”

He seems angry, or at least frustrated, and Scar’s heart beats a little faster. He doesn’t— He’s confused, is all. He’s not sure what this is about.

“Oh! Well, I thought— I thought it would just be easier, you know?” Scar says, and shrugs like it's no big deal, like his chest isn’t constricting. “So you didn’t have to say it.”

“Oh what are you blabbering about?” Bdubs scowls, but can’t quite hide his confusion. “So we didn’t have to say what?”

“Just— You know.” Scar looks away in defeat, because now Bdubs is gonna make him say it. “So you didn’t have to ask me to leave.”

“...What?”

Bdubs says it like he has no idea what Scar is talking about, like he’s talking nonsense, and something desperate wells up in his stomach and crawls into his throat. He has to make him understand.

“Look, I’m— I may be clueless, but I can still read a room,” Scar says, quick and shaky and filled with false bravado. He tries for a smile, and it sits on his face like a wound would. “Trust me, I know when people have had enough. Just— Let me leave with my dignity this time?” Scar chuckles, like it’s a joke, but it’s a sad little sound, and he can’t look Bdubs in the eyes. “You don’t have to… ask. It’s fine, really. It’s better for everyone like this.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Scar almost thinks Bdubs already left. But—

“You’re right,” Bdubs says, and something about his voice is strange. Strained and soft. The words land like a blow, but Bdubs isn’t finished. He comes up next to him and touches his arm. Scar closes his eyes. 

“You are clueless,” Bdubs says, still in that gentle, choked tone, and Scar gasps as he’s pulled into a hug.

His hands hover aimlessly over Bdubs’ back for a few long seconds, tears stinging at the back of his wide eyes. His heart is beating fast, and his chest aches, and for some reason, Bdubs is hugging him. Tightly, like he’s not planning on letting go. Like it’s not a goodbye. 

“I killed Cleo,” Scar chokes out, because his throat hurts and he doesn’t really want to say it, but he has to make sure Bdubs knows, even though there’s no way he doesn’t. 

“Yeah, you did,” Bdubs replies easily, and squeezes Scar’s middle pointedly. “She thought it was funny. She’s not mad.” He pauses, and continues a little softer. “We didn’t want you to leave. We don’t.”

Scar lets his hands rest carefully against the other’s back, like he’s not sure he’s allowed. “Please don’t be lying,” he says.

“You called me out for being the Boogey, Scar,” Bdubs says, a bit of amusement returning to his voice. “You know what I sound like when I’m lying.”

“You’re bad at it,” Scar says weakly.

“Exactly. So are you.”

“We make a good team?”

“We do,” Bdubs says, and finally pulls away. His eyes are a little puffy, and Scar blinks in shock. Bdubs grins. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

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

Their clock tower raises high in the distance, and as they approach, Scar spots Cleo standing outside of it, tapping their foot and checking her communicator. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Bdubs calls his name in question. 

“She’s really not mad,” Bdubs insists, tugging at his wrist lightly. “Well, maybe that you left, but not about the killing thing.”

“I don’t know, Bdubs,” Scar says, nerves making his voice waver. 

“That’s because I’m in charge of knowing right now,” Bdubs scolds, and Scar finally relents and starts walking again. “Just don’t run away again.”

About halfway up the mountain, Cleo spots them, and her shoulders sag. In relief? 

“It’s past your curfew!” Cleo calls out, and has their hands on their hips when they finally make it to where’s she’s standing. She raises an eyebrow at Scar, who shrinks a little beneath their gaze. “Where have you been?”

It’s like they’re upset that he left, that he wasn’t there, that he was gone, and Scar— Doesn’t know how to deal with that. It is so far outside the realm of his recent experiences that he’s struck speechless, for a moment. Bdubs seems to take pity on him. 

“He thought you were mad,” Bdubs says, nudging Scar forwards a little. 

“So you left?” Cleo asks, as if that’s not the rational conclusion that Scar thinks it is, and he swallows hard, avoiding their eyes. 

“Well, I thought—“ He wrings his hands into his shirt, heart pounding. “I thought you… wanted me to leave?”

Cleo’s face falls, almost imperceptibly, and Scar winces. 

“Why would I want that, Scar?”

His mouth is dry, and right now he really does feel like a little kid in trouble with his parents. 

“I killed you,” Scar says, quiet and ashamed. He’s studying the ground beneath his feet with rapt attention. There is dog fur stuck in the cracks. 

“Yeah.” Cleo shrugs, and Scar glances up in bewilderment. “And Grian, and Jimmy. It was amazing, actually.”

Scar stares, and something in his face must give him away, because Cleo’s softens. 

“I told you I was proud,” Cleo says. “I did mean it, you know.”

“But—“

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Cleo interrupts, voice suddenly commanding, and yet still gentle. It’s something only she can pull off. “Why is— Your first thought is that we want you gone. Why?”

“Because no one wants me around,” Scar snaps, finally fed up, some overwhelming and burning emotion building in his chest as his voice raises. “You know I— All I ever try to do is make allies, but no one ever— Only one person has ever stuck by me, but it was never because he wanted to. He had to.” Scar makes a grand sweeping gesture, manic smile breaking under his trailing tears. He lets out a shaky laugh that’s more of a sob, and he lets his hands fall back to his sides. 

“Everyone leaves,” Scar says eventually, after a few seconds of oppressive silence. “And maybe it’s— maybe I’m made for it, but I don’t—“ His voice breaks, and he closes his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”

It’s not something he’s ever admitted out loud. It’s not something he ever really felt like he deserved to feel. 

“Then stay,” Cleo says, and her hand appears on his wrist, cold and careful. “We have a choice, and we want you here.”

“What’s a little death between family, anyway?” Bdubs pipes up, and takes Scar’s other hand. “Just brings us closer.”

Scar doesn’t realize he’s crying again until Cleo lets out a soft sound. 

“Oh, Scar…”

Scar lets out a watery laugh, wiping fruitlessly at his eyes. “I don’t want to leave,” he says, small and tired. “I want to stay.”

Cleo pulls him against their chest, and he buries his face in their shoulder and his hands into their clothes, and his shoulders shake. 

“Good,” Cleo says, sounding a little shaky herself, as Bdubs tucks up against his side and sighs a little in relief. “So do I.”

The sun has long since set, and Scar can feel his eyelids drooping as his emotions finally catch up with him. He feels hollow, but in a good way. Like there’s finally room for something better to take its place. 

They’re still hugging, still standing in the dark in front of their cobbled-together clock tower, and somehow, Bdbubs starts snoring. He’s fallen asleep, leaning against Scar’s side, still standing up. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” Cleo says, laughing quietly, and Scar cracks a genuine smile for the first time in a while. He carefully feta goes himself from Cleo and scoops Bdubs up in one smooth motion, heading for the door. It’s missing something; maybe a doormat. 

When he turns to check on Cleo, she’s still standing where he left them, but she’s staring at the Bad Boys mansion with a stony face and clenched fists. It’s almost like she’s angry at one of them, for something. Scar can't think of anything recent that would’ve justified her anger now. 

“Cleo?” Scar calls, uncertain, and they jolt a bit, turning to look at him. “Are you coming?”

With one last glance at the mansion, she sighs and follows him inside, ruffling his hair on her way by.

“Welcome home,” she says, and Scar feels something in his chest piece back together. 

And, well. That would be a pretty good thing to put on a doormat.

[callsignmist]

A Dreamy Moment.

FIRST JACOB FANFIC IM PISSING MYSELF😭- (that was an attempt at a pun, i hate myself rn lmaooo)

ALSO G/N READER CUZ EVERYONE LOVES HIM

(Based on that one dream I had ;D )

( Btw if this is bad I'm so sorry I'll try better next time lmao)

It was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be with two people in a room. You were laying on Jacob's chest. You could hear his heartbeat. It was fast, but calming. You also felt the way his chest rose when he breathed in, and fell when he exhaled.

All of the sudden, Jacob hums lightly.

"You asleep?" He lightly chuckles, and kisses your forehead.

"No, I'm just listening to your heart." You reply, smiling to him.

A few minutes of silence pass by, as finally Jacob speaks up.

"Top or Bottom?" He asked. Maybe as a joke, or maybe he was just curious, I wouldn't know that's going on in his head.

"Me? Oh, I'm a switch. But I've more often been Top. But I kind of wanna try to be taken care of once." You giggled, mostly to yourself.

Jacob whispers something, however it wasn't audible. And in the blink of an eye you were flipped on your back, Jacob hovering on top of you.

he looks down at you, and smirks.

"How about we switch it up a little? I could make you feel so good~"

You were surprised and flustered. He pinned you to the bed and you couldn't escape his hold. Not that you wanted too.

You nodded, feeling hot, but still shocked from the sudden placement.

"Hmm, you look so pretty darlin', but somethings missing.."

He starts to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites. You start to hum lightly. He made you feel good. You were really enjoying this.

His kisses trailed down from your neck, on your collar bone and reached your chest. He stops here, looking up at you again. "C-can I?" He starts stuttering. You nod again, biting your lip and blushing.

He continues to kiss down your chest, all the way down to your lower stomach. He lightly touches you and slowly pulls down your undergarments, making you whimper. He had been teasing you all this time, praising you for your whining and moaning. But you needed more. You felt wet and you wanted him to take care of it.

All of the sudden, he stops.

"Maybe I shouldn't get you all aroused now." He teases you. " we still need to make dinner and you have work to do and-"

You cut him off.

"Fuck Jacob! Don'tstart something you cant finish! Please- fuck I BEG you. i-i, i need you right here, please Jacob."

He just smirks. "You need me that badly, huh? You want me inside you sooo much hun?"

"Don't worry darlin'. We've only just started~" The last sentence was deeper and harsher, but you loved it.

He pulled your underwear and kissed your pelvic. Then he started to rub in between your legs. It felt so good, yet you wanted more. You moaned while his hands did the magic. A little more, and you felt your climax point. Fuck- you were gonna-

Jacob kissed you passionately, and went faster. You were almost there, and-

Jacob Wakes up with a jolt.

No. No, no, no, no, NO!

IT WAS A DREAM! FUCK.

Fuck…

He wipes the sleepy from his eyes. His sheets were wet and sticky, And his newly taken photos of you were too.

Damn, he had forgotten that he fell asleep looking at them.

It's okay, i'ts okay. He has a lot more of them. He looks around his room. Every single wall in his room was filled with Polaroids (the dates written in red ink). He also had a big corkboard, with probably all information about you. You would've never known about this. Heh, it's okay, though. It's only a matter of time before you two get together. He smirks.

*bu-Ding*

Oh, a message? Jacob stood up and checked his computer.

*YourName has accepted your friend request!*

They accepted! Perfect.

Oh my darlin'.

you and me, are really meant to be….

A/N: OMG I'm dying. Bro I'm OBSESSED over this man ;-;

I'm gonna try to post more and all that, and I might do some fanart :D

Hope you enjoyed!

(Jacob belongs to @carnivorekitty)

<333

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p9

i finally figured out what the plot is (probably) going to be scroll to the bottom for updates <333

part eight

tw; eddie talks about his fathers abuse and mentions police and hospitalisation

Eddie’s new favourite pastime might be kissing Steve Harrington.

He loves how Steve buries his fingers in his hair and tugs at his necklaces and wraps his arms around his neck, and how steady he feels on Eddie’s lap. He loves how he can feel Steve’s smile against his mouth, and how he can feel Steve’s breath on his face, and how he can hear the slick slide of their lips. He loves how Steve holds his face in his hands, how he kisses him so intentionally, like he means every single one.

Steve turned the movie off a while ago, reaching and leaning across the sofa without getting up from Eddie’s lap, reaching and reaching for the remote until Eddie finally tilted to the side, shifting him just enough to grab it finally. They were both giggling, struggling to sit up straight again, and Steve turned the television off over his shoulder before he crashed their mouths together.

Neither of them have said a lot, but they don’t really need to.

Steve keeps making these soft, tiny sounds in the back of his throat, almost whimpers but not quite, and every sound lights Eddie’s nerves up. He knows Steve is more experienced than him, that Eddie’s only kissed two girls (both of them when he was in elementary school, one of them an accident) and one boy (the one on his lap), and that Steve actually knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t really care.

He doesn’t care that Steve’s kissed so many people, because he’s not kissing them right now, he’s kissing Eddie.

He’s grinning and catching Eddie’s lip between his teeth and playing with his curls and pulling on his necklaces, and Eddie thinks he might be dying.

Steve starts giggling after a while, so hard that he needs to stop kissing Eddie, and Eddie beams, raising his eyebrows as he watches. Steve’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s smiling so brightly Eddie wants to cry.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asks, his voice rough, and Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing, sorry,” he says, still laughing.

“Nothing, but you’re cracking up while we’re making out.” He slides his hands over Steve’s waist. Eddie loves how soft he is just above the waistband of his pants. “Should I take offence?”

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head, holding Eddie’s face. “God, no, I’m just…” His giggling subsides, but he’s still smiling, wide-eyed. “I’m… I’m having fun.”

Eddie blinks, his smile faltering, and he reaches up to touch Steve’s cheek.

“I’ve— I’ve kissed people, and I liked kissing them but I’ve never…” Steve stammers out, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s skin softly. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes.

Steve just stares down at him, a smile still teasing his lips, and Eddie blinks again.

“I’ve only kissed two girls,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s waist. “One was when I was eight and the other when I was ten, and the first one was an accident, and the other one was a dare, so I don’t think either of them really count, so…” He stops himself from rambling.

“I’m your first kiss?” Steve asks, hushed.

“Uh. Yeah.”

Steve blinks, settling on his lap and slouching a little bit, still holding his face.

“And?” he asks hesitantly. “How’m I doing?”

“Fucking A plus, Stevie,” Eddie says, wide-eyed, and Steve grins, his nose scrunching adorably. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah?” Steve giggles, and Eddie nods, gazing up at him.

“I’m— I’m having fun too.”

Steve is grinning, and Eddie’s face hurts because he’s smiling so much.

“Can I kiss you again?” Steve asks softly, his fingertips brushing over Eddie’s cheek.

“Yes,” Eddie says firmly, looking up, pleading. “I’d like that.”

So Steve kisses him. And Eddie’s hands slide to the small of his back, pulling him closer, his fingertips slipping under the fabric of his shirt.

Steve smiles against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie might be ascending, because Steve’s tongue slips across Eddie’s lower lip. Eddie gasps, his head tilting back as his mouth falls open, and his hand clutches at Steve’s back, sliding up under his shirt. Steve gasps.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks, pulling away.

“Yeah,” Steve says breathlessly. “I, uhm. I like how your rings feel.”

“Yeah?” Eddie slides his hands over Steve’s back, watching with a smile as Steve’s eyes close and he sighs. “Feels good?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve kisses him again, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck as he slowly, almost lazily, licks into his mouth. Eddie moves his hands over his whole back, up until he’s almost touching the back of his neck, down just over the waistband of his pants, over his spine and over his waist. He’s so warm. Eddie knows his rings must be cold, but Steve likes it.

When they part, their lips are shining, and they’re both breathing hard. Steve’s hands are steady on Eddie’s neck. Eddie wonders if he can feel his pulse.

“I, uhm…” He pauses, hesitates, his thumbs running back and forth over Steve’s skin. Steve’s eyes open, also shining brightly, and he looks at Eddie in that way he always does when he looks at him: softly, patiently. Kindly. “I don’t think I’m… ready. For, like… sex.”

Steve shakes his head, sliding his hands to hold Eddie’s jaw.

“That’s okay,” he says softly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. Steve touches his cheek, almost petting it.

“I like doing this,” he says quietly. “Just touching you.”

“God, I like you so much,” Eddie says softly. “You’re so…”

“So what?” Steve asks, touching Eddie’s lip.

Eddie shrugs weakly, his hands tightening on Steve.

“Amazing.”

Steve just furrows his brows, smiling like he doesn’t believe him, and he kisses him again.

They kiss slowly, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. They kind of do. Neither of them have anywhere to be, no one’s looking or waiting for them, and they know it. So they stay here, pressed together, touching and holding and kissing in this big empty house.

They end up laying down on the sofa, Steve between Eddie’s legs as he kisses down his neck slowly. Eddie always wondered what this would feel like. Turns out, it feels really fucking good. Steve is so gentle with him, every kiss soft and slow and careful, and even when he moves down, and meticulously tugs the collar of Eddie’s t-shirt down, he feels so gentle that Eddie feels like he could fall asleep.

Steve asks if he can leave a mark. He’s touching Eddie’s collarbone, his finger running back and forth. Eddie closes his eyes and nods. Says yes out loud just in case. There’s a silent moment before he feels Steve’s breath on his skin, and then he feels his tongue, and Eddie swears quietly. Steve’s lips curve into a smile against his skin, and then he bites down gently. Eddie bites his lip while Steve sucks on his skin, baring his throat to him and gripping the back of his t-shirt.

Steve stops when he’s satisfied, licks the mark one last time before he lays on Eddie’s chest with a soft sigh.

Eddie’s lips are sore. It feels good. He pushes his fingers into Steve’s hair, combs through it and tugs lightly when Steve hums.

They’re quiet, laying together in the dim living room. Eddie can feel Steve’s head rising and falling with every one of Eddie’s. breaths.

“Hey, Stevie?” Eddie says quietly after a while.

“Mhmm?”

“Is it okay if I tell some people about us?”

Steve is quiet for a moment.

“Who?”

“My uncle. And my best friend. And his mom, because she knows everything,” Eddie says, smiling when Steve laughs softly. “They won’t tell anyone.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

There’s a quiet moment again.

“Did you…” Steve hesitates, shifting on Eddie’s chest. Eddie plays with his hair. “Did you tell them you like boys?”

“Yeah.”

“…How?”

“Uhm.” Eddie sighs, settles into the sofa, combs Steve’s hair as Steve tucks his fingertips under Eddie’s t-shirt. “I told you about my dad.”

“Yeah. The shithead.”

“Yeah. When I was little, I didn’t… realise there was anything wrong with liking boys. Which— I mean, there isn’t, but… I mentioned it to my dad once, and he…” Eddie hesitates, biting his lip, staring at the ceiling. Remembering. “Lost his shit.”

Steve’s fingers slide further under his shirt.

“Neighbours called the cops,” Eddie continues, remembering the way the red and blue lights lit up the living room. “Dad told them I’m a queer because he thought that was a good excuse to beat up a kid. Cops visited me in the hospital and called Wayne. Told him everything.”

“Shit,” Steve says succinctly.

“Yeah.” Eddie sighs again. “We never really talked about it. We never really had to.”

“He’s cool with it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again. Steve’s hand is warm. “Told him I was coming over to yours and he definitely knew. Said I got myself an artist.”

Steve hums.

“Told Gareth because I was having a shit day,” Eddie continues. “Realised I had a debilitating crush on you and was pissed.”

“You were mad you liked me?” Steve asks, laughing, and Eddie grins.

“Obviously,” he says. “Never woulda thought I’d have a chance with you.”

Steve lifts his head, leaning up to kiss him, smiling, and then he sets his chin on Eddie’s chest.

“How’d you tell him?”

“He let me bitch for a while. Slam some drawers shut and whatever. Then I just… said I like boys. And he said okay. Then he let me bitch some more about how I like polo shirt wearing normies.”

Steve grins so brightly his eyes squeeze shut.

“You don’t like my polos?”

“I like your polos on you,” Eddie says. “But you’d also look cute in a battle vest I think.”

“Battle vest?” Steve asks quietly.

“Like a denim jacket with ripped off sleeves.” Steve’s eyebrows raise. “With some patches and pins and shit. You’d look hot.”

“You think?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Steve beams.

“How’d you tell his mom?” he asks.

“Gareth told her. She’s kind of… everyone’s mom. She knows everything. So he asked if he could tell her, and I asked him how she’d react, and he said he’d find out.”

“How’d he find out?” Steve whispers. Eddie smiles, pushing Steve’s hair back.

“He went to her,” he says, watching Steve’s eyes shine. “And asked what she’d think if he was gay. And she hugged him and said it was okay and she loves him and nothing can change that, yadda yadda.” Steve snickers, pressing his fingertips into Eddie’s waist. “And he said ‘Okay cool, I’m not gay, but Eddie is,’ and she said ‘Oh, that’s fine too.’”

Steve giggles, tilting his head before he lays back down.

“She sounds cool.”

“She is,” Eddie agrees. “Think you’d like her.”

Steve sighs, stretching his legs out and settling heavily against Eddie.

“You wanna tell someone?” Eddie asks.

“Don’t really have anyone to tell.”

Eddie hums softly.

“You wanna tell me?”

Steve looks up again, grinning.

“I like boys,” he whispers.

“Do you?” Eddie whispers back, raising his eyebrows and acting surprised, beaming. Steve nods.

“I especially like this one boy,” he says excitedly, quietly.

“Tell me about him.”

Steve sighs, staring at him for a moment.

“He’s so pretty,” he says finally. “Like— He’s the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. He has the softest hair. And he makes me laugh, even when I feel like shit.”

Eddie blinks, combing through Steve’s hair again as he listens intently.

“I swear it’s like he knows me better than myself,” Steve continues. “Always knows just how to make me laugh.”

Eddie smiles softly, touching his cheek.

“I really, really like him,” Steve says softly.

“Kiss me.”

Steve kisses him. He presses him into the sofa, almost holding him down, and Eddie wraps his legs around him, holding him against himself.

“‘S nice,” he murmurs when Steve pulls away. His lip tingles from Steve nibbling on it, and Steve bruise his face in Eddie’s neck, sighing and leaving soft kisses on him. Eddie can feel the moment Steve falls asleep. Steve is heavy on top of him, his breath warm on Eddie’s skin, his lips still pressed against him.

Eddie stares up at the ceiling for a while, gently tugging Steve’s shirt up his back and smiling when Steve shifts to let him, so he can drag his fingers over his skin. Steve hums softly in his sleep, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie fucking loves him.

He goes home around noon the next day because Steve’s friends are going to come over. He kisses Steve goodbye by the door, his hand tucked up under his shirt, Steve’s fingers holding his chin. The goodbye kiss lasts too long to actually be a goodbye kiss, really, and the thought makes Eddie giggle softly as Steve presses him into the wall to kiss him harder.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Steve whines into his mouth, holding his face. Eddie holds his waist, pulling him closer so their bodies press and he’s trapped between Steve and the wall.

“Monday, baby,” Eddie says softly before he licks into Steve mouth the way Steve did to him last night.

“Monday.”

He goes to Gareth’s after he finally leaves, grinning giddily to himself. Gareth opens the door and raises an eyebrow at him.

“What’s going on?”

“I have news,” Eddie says quickly. “Where’s your mother?”

“Kitchen.”

Eddie kicks his shoes off at the door and heads down the hall, singing Mother! loudly until he walks into the kitchen. She’s wearing her favourite apron again (hand sewn and gifted from her ex-mother in law), mixing a bowl of batter.

“Hi, Eddie,” she says brightly, smiling so her eyes squeeze shut and deepen her wrinkles. “What’s going on?”

“Eddie has news,” Gareth says, shoving past him to get into the kitchen and opening the fridge. Linda looks at Eddie, wide-eyed and smiling as he grins, and Gareth reaches into the fridge to get out a juice box, leaning against the fridge as he looks at Eddie expectantly.

“…Steve kissed me.”

Gareth drops the juice box. Linda screams. Eddie cackles.

Linda sets the bowl down and bounces over to hug Eddie tightly, rocking him back and forth as he laughs, and Gareth is grinned, his jaw still hanging open in shock, and the kitchen feels a little brighter.

“When?” Gareth says when Linda finally releases Eddie. “How? Why?”

“Why?” Eddie makes a face at him. “Asshole.”

Linda laughs again, patting Eddie’s cheek before she goes back to the batter bowl.

“When’d he kiss you, Eddie?” she asks lightly.

“Last night,” Eddie says, giddy. He goes to sit on the table as Gareth picks his juice box back up. “He invited me over, and I went after Wayne left for work, and we… hung out. And he kissed me. And then we made out for approximately four hours.”

Linda coos brightly, teasingly, and his cheeks flush as he grins again.

“Gross,” Gareth says dryly, and Eddie flips him off, his smile unfaltering, as Linda shoots him a look and flicks the spoon at him, spatter some batter on him. “Mom!”

Eddie laughs again, wiggling where he’s sitting because he’s so happy.

“Wait,” Gareth says as he’s wiping batter off his cheek and eating it. “He’s not just doing this because you’re into guys, right? Like he not, like, using you or something? ‘Cause if he is, I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

Eddie grins, his heart swelling at the earnestness in Gareth’s eyes, and he shakes his head.

“He’s not. He likes me.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Gareth finally punches the straw into the juice box and takes a sip, staring Eddie until he nods approvingly.

“That’s pretty cool, man.”

Linda lets Eddie lick the bowl when she’s done.

part ten

read on ao3

okay here are the updates: 1) this is an au so nothing from canon actually happens 2) steve is a junior (17) and eddie is a senior (18) 3) plot is going going to be focussed on steve’s abuse and his self discovery (it’s still gonna be eddie’s pov) (punk steve hello) which means that some chapters may be heavier than others (i’ll include tws at the beginnings; let me know if anything needs an extra warning!) 4) kind of a spoiler but tommy is going to get a redemption bc i want steve to have friends and i feel like so many ppl forget that they were Best Friends

taglist: tag list: @loverkasp @confusionocturne @vecnuthy @michael-the-angelo @three-possums-playing-human @theysherobinbuckley @silentiumdelirium

[cheolhub]

Talk about your moots; what do you like most about them (could be a paragraph or a single sentence, spread the love!!)

p sure i did this just a few days ago but everyone knows i adore my moots so i dont mind doing it again :)

it’s kinda long! (took me a literal hour and a half to write) and i tried to get everyone i talk to on a tri-weekly basis at least 😅

@ncteez i know you said to pick what i like most abt my moots, but i love everything about hon from the way she looks (she’s literally the most gorgeous person ever— she still owes me a selfie now that im thinking abt it) right down to her core. 🥹 the only mark stan who has ever walked the planet actually,,, i love hearing about her sex dreams and i love the way that she gives the best advice bc she only wants the best for me and how genuine she is. I LOVE HER & she makes me a better person every day, seriously ⭐️ i <3 my wife

@jeonghantis 🩵 there are about a million and three things that i can write for keir but i think the thing i love most about them is that… i can just be sar with them, i never have to worry about being judged for the things i like bc 9 times out of 10, keir feels the same way. like who else am i gonna talk about [redacted] with chan with ??? or [ censored beeping for 10 minutes straight ] with sangyeon ?? my jeonghannie, my bff, my ride or die <3 (they also hate everyone that i hate and watch my instagram lives even tho im super annoying which means i am going to die for them)

@onlyseokmins literally just love elv’s personality. she has this infectious positivity and it makes me so happy to be alive like dhahdh,,, every time i see her on the dash reblogging the silliest things or cute pics or even talking to other people, it makes me smile so hard like idk she’s so bright PLUS she’s resident dk lover on tumblr like there is no one else. tumblr user onlyseokmins is quite literally the only dk stan alive

@lovelyhan ok two things i love the most — one: kai’s writing will always get me out of a reading slump. i re-read their fics an ungodly amount of times, like i actually need to be blocked by them ( i definitely didn’t re-read inflection point again TODAY on my lunch break, nope! i didn’t! 😂……) TWO: kai is literally so sweet and funny and we don’t really talk much, but from what i know, they’re a really great person and anyone would be lucky to have them as a moot! ^^

@agustdiv1ne ash and i are actually moving to alaska and we’re gonna be neighbors /srs,,, srsly tho, i told her this already, but she’s an amazing listener and she puts up with my shitty texting and i seriously cant appreciate that more 😢 she’s so wonderful and lovely and my favorite yoongi stan to ever exist and i will shield her from the heat. don’t worry, ash, 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚.

@soonigiri MELODY <333 the soonyoung to my cheol!! she’s also someone i enjoy seeing on my dash sm!! she’s literally an angel and it’s so endearing to see her in her engene era. like i look forward to seeing jungwon on my dash every day /srs — OKAY ACTUALLY, ik im an awkward freak but i would love to talk to you more bc i think we have a lot in common T-T

@etherealyoungk SKYE i know we interact like every 3 weeks but each of them do really mean a lot to me <33 i think she’s really kind-hearted and i get really happy when i see her jn my inbox from time to time!! it’s like a nice little surprise which i love 🥹💝 it’s like finding a rice krispie at the bottom of my lunch box (if you don’t know the feeling, think immense joy)

@rubyreduji JJ THE COOLEST GUY EVER. he’s such a joy to talk to and i love that he’s lowkey my hypeman. every time i run a concept or idea by him, he makes me feel really good about it and i adore that. he’s so supportive i love him and i need to hug him so bad actually 🥹 (i give good bear hugs jj, pls let me hug u) also jj doesnt care that im a weirdo awkward freak and i have to commend him for that too ☺️

@toruro mikalicious always know what to say which is what i love the absolute most abt them now. when im in a shit mood, she knows exactly how to make me feel better and always helps me take my mind off of it. she’s so cute and wonderful inside and out and i really am so eternally grateful to have her as a mutual and a friend <33 also, mika, this is my formal apology for being the world’s worst texter 😅

@gyuswhore EM THE COOLEST PERSON EVER. i love her so much actually. she and i just started talking and i have to say, she is just so,,,, amazing? idk, i dont have the words for it. she was so kind to me when reading my wonu fic and she just read over my new cheol wip and she has given me such great feedback and im so appreciative of her!! + sending pics is lowkey my love language and she lets me send her the most random shit (my pc collection, my room, etc.) i love her 💝

@hwanghyunjinenthusiast MY FAV JOKSTER dbehdh talking to rj is seriously a breath of fresh air lol I LOVE her humor and she understands my humor. ALSO….. something about rj’s writing also does something to me… like i remember i was super depressed while i had strep and on a brief tumblr hiatus and i came onto the app for just a second and saw that she’d posted … mean dom!chan… i remember reading it and crying bc she GETS IT. no one gets me like rj (i forgot to rb now that im thinking abt it but im gonna get on that) my fave dinonara <3

@heesbaby TUMBLR USER HEESBABY SINGLE HANDEDLY GOT ME BACK INTO ENHYPEN. i never thought id see the day, but bc of her smau’s and writing, i’m back in my engene era… i love how much of an angel cinna is like,,, we talk every once in awhile but she makes me the happiest girl ever when she replies to my asks or i find her in my inbox. i’ll actually fight jay for cinna

@hyuk4ngel RESIDENT MINGYU STAN,, fay has been here with me since what feels like the fucking beginning and i seriously can’t thank her enough. she’s really encouraging and amazing and she has the best ideas ever. i swear half of my writing discography is thanks to her (just my mingyu fics which is lowekey half my writing discography begsgs) she also is always checking in and i just love her for that and many other things 🥹

@baeksbyunny / @baekhyunnybyun (you’ll have to remind me which acct im supposed to tag) BEX MY BELOVED!!! THE LOVE I HAVE FOR HER IS SERIOUSLY INDESCRIBABLE!!! she’s the nicest person to me. like i’ll never forget when i was anxious before my txt concert and she was so reassuring like i felt a weight lift off my shoulders. INSTANT (sar)otonin boost every time we talk, idk what it is. probably the fact that she has the most comforting presence. i love her, you honor. i rest my case.

@majestyjun mills was like the first moot i’d ever talked to,,, but i remember i was so intimidated the first time we did bc millie is literally so fucking cool like,,, i have always thought this and when she said //I// was cool and i was genuinely so honored like…. idk >< ALSO HER WRITING IS SOHSHSBS OUT OF THIS WORLD … the concepts the description,,, she’s a genius!!!

@sunnylovespickles even tho we just became moots, i thought it was really sweet that she dropped off pics of pink!cheol for me 🥹 my day was really bad and that brightened it so much <33 i hope to have more interactions with her in the future bc she seems so nice!!

[clone-force-333]

Farewell, From The Boys Of CF333!

After much deliberation, Clone Force 333 has decided to end our missions.

There's a lot that could be said about why, but we've always tried to stand by a message of positivity so I'd like to keep that even now, and the bottom line falls in the same place regardless of our individual reasons: it isn't humble to our original purpose anymore.

And I’m gonna be so dramatic about it.

I don't regret a single moment of it even now. Nothing will take away the fun of planning an attack, of giggling as we make a silly plot, of forgetting the drop and having to reschedule 5 times over, of still messing it up anyway. Truly, it's a miracle the one thing we didn't mess up is we all hit anon every time!

Clone Force 333 was my love letter to the fandom, where I could find a way to give some love behind a mask when I didn't know how to do it as myself, because I believe this to be the most selfless form of kindness; to give without taking. There is no obligation to return it, just to have it. I find this a rare quality nowadays when people confuse kindness as a tool to farm kindness for themselves, and not just for kindness sake.

Remind yourself in giving, you cannot expect to take It will only make you bitter, and what's left will go to waste

We were inspired by none other than a certain someone who regularly sends drones of anon hate, it was pretty annoying to see so many people targeted by one person with a gang of friends who had no problem being bullies. A third of CF333 ourselves have been targeted by this person. But I figured, y'know what? If they can send hate en masse, why can't I send love? Coupled with the inspiration from our beloved Clone Anon- and Clone Force 333 just kinda happened.

What started as us just assigning numbers to send a love bomb ended in so much more. These numbers were given names, ranks, and personalities that brought them to life. They aren't just "Clone Force 333" to us, they're OCs that we make headcanons for, roleplay as, and draw/write. Most of all, they are one of the most unifying things shared among the little online circle I call an internet family.

It's unfortunate to have to say goodbye, I definitely had a lot of plans that will never see the light of day, however it's simply better to end things sometimes instead of forcing them to work.

Not only are we ending our attacks, but we have also decided to come public with some of our identities. We want to treat these clones like our other OCs and have them on our blogs, and it seems the best way to do this is to just out ourselves to avoid anything else happening.

One thing to be made clear about this is that it is not an invitation to reach out to us about CF333. This is so that we can just rip the bandaid off and go back to being us with the OCs we made and have become so deathly attached to. In fact, the only reason I will say as to "why" we called it off is that some of the public responses made us uncomfortable. So really, we'd prefer it if people didn't treat us as anything other than us. We were never anything but just one of you too, you know? That stands for the RP blogs as well, more than the character, there's a human behind that url, so maybe act like it.

So, thank you for it all, goodbye to you Please let me congratulate you, too Lastly let me say farewell to we I won't forget you, hope you think of me

So, a final farewell from me. Not just as CT-1363, Captain Angel: but also as Jack, your local fandom menace~

As always, Stay Golden 💛

Our members are listed below:

(Note: we have some members not listed, only the ones who joined for attacks and are current)

Angel: If you know, you know (that I'll bite)

Chovi: @techs-ass

Ghost: @staycalmandhugaclone

Everest: MIA

Curly: @errondaperson

Luca: @echos-girlfriend

Hutch: @techs-girlfriend

Sumi: MIA

[srk8t]

Not a question but I just want you to know that every single time I open this app I always check your blog to see if you've posted any new mapledragon cause you are so CREATIVE!! And your ideas are sososososoos COOL?! Silly?! Mischievous!? Nefarious!? /pos,,,

I want to tell you something too about your art block; I suggest you try do it unconsciously, like doodling while your teacher is explaining a boring speech, and whenever your bored, just put yourself on autopilot and draw on paper, draw eyes, random poses, characters in fits or redesigns & etc. Don’t work for the image in your mind and just let the lines do it for you.

Lastly : I hope that you get better soon with your problems, don’t go to harsh on yourself as your the only person who’s you, everyone makes mistakes; I probably made one right now in this text,,, and Everytime I see your art I print it and eat it.

That’s all!! Sorry if I’m using the ask feature wrong I didn’t know where else to put this!!

DUDE... oh my gosh i haven't been on Tumblr for weeks but you don't know how much your words mean to me!! like, really! i was feeling so depressed and down a few weeks ago but ive been doing better since school has reopened once more! Thank you so much for your encouragement and support, and I really hope I can continue to make wonderful creations for everyone and I hope, it will bring joy, happiness, and inspiration to everyone. and hearing it from you... ahh... it makes me feel so happy! i admit there were a few times i felt unsatisfied with my work, but... you are one of the people that proved otherwise. Again, i have no idea who you are, but i wish you a successful and fulfilling life, and have a wonderful year throughout all of it! Thank you so much, really! and i didn't even know other people actually enjoy mapledragon because the nature of the ship too aidhsihdjdhf!!!! I'll try to do more of them after ramadan! I'm going to get busy with exams too, so please do expect an absence of the two for this whole year... But nevertheless, I will try as much as I'm able to!

Once again anon, THANK YOU so much, from the bottom of my heart. I will kiss you on the lips (if you are comfortable with it) and offer you a virtual hug :D And, take care of yourself as well! I wish you the best of luck in whatever you're trying to achieve and just know that im rooting for you!!!!!!!

+ and op, regarding your last sentence, i am ABSOLUTELY writing this down in my journal and read it whenever i feel down <333

[oh-theseus]

heyyy can i request scenario about armin's gf nervously telling him she's pregnant when they're cuddling and his reaction please🥺

surprise

pairing: armin arlert x female!reader

summary: basically what the ask says !!

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, female reader, anxiety mentions, modern au (let me know if i need to add more <;3)

a/n: so sorry for taking forever to get to this, and that it isn't very long. i've been so busy with work and school, i'm sorry :(( i hope you enjoy this <333

cuddling had never been this stressful.

not once in your entire life had you been cuddling with someone and been so stressed over every movement, word, or even thought that came from you. one wrong move and maybe armin's hand would brush against your stomach and would know exactly what you were thinking over in your mind. you knew armin, you knew he wouldn't be upset with you - but you were both so young and there was so much life meant to be lived, you couldn't help the anxiety that settled into your bones.

but this was armin, he didn't miss the way you tensed your shoulders everytime he moved, didn't miss the way your eyes kept flickering away from the movie you'd picked out, didn't miss the way you seemed so unbearably nervous despite your obvious attempts to hide it.

so while you sat there trying to figure out how you were going to tell him you were literally pregnant, he sat there trying to figure out how he was going to ask you what was wrong.

two horribly concerned people trapped within their own minds.

armin finds his voice first.

"what's wrong?" he asks, simply and gently. he turns away from the movie, shifting away from holding onto you so that he can see your face. your eyebrows are drawn together, and you've pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to find your words.

"i, uh," you trail off, sitting up and moving off of armin fully. you reach for the remote next to him and pause the movie, turning your whole body to face him and sitting criss cross on the couch. armin looks at you for a moment before he straightens his back and does he same, one hand resting on your knee and the other rolling his thin, gold chain necklace in between his fingers. you’d given it to him to celebrate three years together, and he’s worn it every single day since. he fidgets with it when he’s nervous.

“go on. you can tell me anything, i promise. i won’t be upset no matter what,” armin says sincerely, eyes locked on yours despite his desire to let them flicker around the room. you can’t tell, but his heart is pounding in his chest. he can hear it in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. he’s scared. so scared.

you’re scared too. your heart does a similar thing, though ten times louder. you can just barely hear armin’s reassuring promise over the sound of it.

“right – i know. uhm, i don’t think it’s all that bad really, it’s just big and i know we haven’t talked about it, and i understand if you’re upset because of it, but you know i love you and really respect you and you have to know because i already saw a doctor and she confirmed it and i know we’re young, but i really think we could make it work unless y –“

“oh.”

armin’s simple phrase cuts off your nervous rambling, draws your eyes back to his from where they’d been staring at his hand on your knee. he’s still, not moving at all. in his ocean blue eyes you can see him thinking, putting together pieces of a puzzle. a puzzle he’d been trying to solve for a while now.

“oh!” he repeats, louder this time. he stands up, hands flying to his hair, eyes going wide. you’re fairly certain armin knows what you’re trying to tell him, but you open your mouth to say those two simple words that have been eating you alive nonetheless.

“i’m-“

“pregnant! you’re pregnant!” he cuts you off, spinning away from you and walking over to the tv and then walking back, hands dropping from his hair for only a second before returning to their previous spot. “holy shit, oh my god. i was right,” he mumbles to himself, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. he’s got a bewildered sort of look on his face, but there’s a wide smile playing at his lips.

he’s not mad.

you let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding onto since those two lines had stared back at you. your shoulders are lighter, and you feel like you’re able to relax for the first time in weeks.

“i had a feeling because you were getting sick, and you also haven’t sent me out for period snacks in a bit, but i didn’t wanna ask in case you weren’t,” armin explains, looking back down at you and grabbing onto your hands, pulling you up to your feet.

“oh, well i wish i’d known that. i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for nearly two weeks now,” you tell him, smile on your face. it won’t go away. he isn’t mad. you can’t stop thinking that. he isn’t yelling at you, he isn’t calling you names or making you leave. he’s smiling – he’s happy.

“i’m sorry you had to worry alone,” armin mutters, pulling you into a hug and holding you against his chest. “you’re right, we’re still young, but if this is what you want to do, then i want to do this with you. we can turn the guest room into a nursery, and i can pick up extra shifts at the library. statistically, it won’t be easy, but we’ll have each other and eren and mikasa and jean and everyone else to help us. we’ll be okay, i promise,” armin adds, head in the crook of your neck. he presses a gentle kiss to the skin there, pulling his face away to look at you.

you can’t help the large smile that spreads on your face. without thinking, your hands cup armin’s cheeks and you pull him down to place a dozen kisses all over his face, laughing when he starts to gently swat you away. laughter fills the room as armin grabs your face and does the same thing to you, stopping only when you start to cry from laughing too hard.

you both just stand in the middle of the living room then, foreheads touching. his hands rest gently on your hips, one moving reluctantly towards your stomach. when he places it down gently, your barely there bump is enough to pull tears from him.

him, a father. you, a mother.

a family of your own.

“sorry, i’m just very happy,” he explains, wiping his tears away quickly. no matter how many times you assured him it was alright to cry in front of you, he still refused to do it.

“i’m happy too, armin.”

he presses a kiss to your lips then, and pulls you back down onto the couch with him. after a few moments of quiet conversation and a handful more kisses, you settle back into each other and allow the movie to run. this time, there is no tension or worry. only love and happiness surrounds the two of you now.

taglist; @levis-hazelnut @tvnyaiidas @justanotherkpopstanlol @shelby-ren @v-lleitie

[noctumbra]

𝒍𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄

summary ─ “let’s go back to fucking,” he whispered, licking a fat line on your neck, nipping on the flesh. “miss your body, baby, lemme make it sing under me again.”

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader 

warnings ─ smut, +18, angst, asshole bucky, dirty talk, rough sex, wall sex, biting/marking, pet names, bucky tasting from his own medicine (a little), language, bucky is a manipulative pos btw, reader calls herself “stupid” 

a/n ─ i didn’t wanna promise anything just in case if i didn’t write, but here i am with the second part. thank you so much for all the comments you left on the part one, i hope you like this one, too! please leave comments again if you do! thank youuu <333 it’s a long one y’all just a heads up! 

p.s.: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 4K FOLLOWERS. I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU SO MUCH. YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME. 💘💘💘💘

the (after) party [part one]

It’s been a month since that night at the party, and you didn’t have a time to focus on yourself because of all the college work you suddenly had. All the exams and deadlines had hit you almost at the same time, so you were swept with papers and notes.

Today was the first night you absolutely had nothing do. Your roommate was out because she was celebrating… something. You had no plans, so you decided to just have an off day where you lay on your couch and watch some stupid movies.

Three hours later had found you on your couch, sprawling comfortably with snacks in your hands. You were watching Tangled, the movie reminding you why you loved animations. The colors were vibrant, it was easy to follow and it didn’t have any of those very deep meaning messages. You knew you couldn’t take one right now if there was any.

You sighed deeply as you paused the movie. Standing up, you gathered the empty snack packs and takeout boxes. Just as you threw them into the trashcan, you heard a strong knock on your door. You frowned, it was almost 1AM in the morning. You slowly made your way towards the door and looked outside from the peep hole.

Bucky was right outside your door.

“I know you’re home,” he said, “Open the door.” You didn’t budge instead you continued to watch him. “Please.”

“What do you want?” You asked him without opening the door. His face was the last face you’ve wanted to see, and to think he was standing right outside your door was making all the hair on your body to rise.

“To talk,” he replied, voice muffled.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you said and walked away. You weren’t ready to face with him, yet. These past weeks you’ve kept yourself busy with school, didn’t have enough time to digest the facts that he cheated on you and used your body for his own pleasure, so if you were to open the door, you were going to do something stupid.

“C’mon,” he grunted. You heard him knock again. “Please, just a talk and I’m gonna leave, I swear.” You didn’t say anything. You decided to wash the dishes that have been piling up in the sink in order to ignore him better. “I’ll start singing if you don’t let me in, I mean it, Y/N.” You exhaled angrily.

How dare he to come to your door at 1AM and demand you to open your door? Seething, you grabbed the sponge and started scrubbing at the plate in your hand with your all might.

“Y/N…” You heard him calling out to you but didn’t care. “Open the fucking door, Y/N.”

You couldn’t believe that he still had the balls to show up on your doorstep after what he did to you. Catching him with one of the girls from your class, all naked and moaning mess in the bed you frequently shared, had hurt you badly. Your friends had always told you not to fall in love with him, but it was easier said than done. You knew that he was getting around even before you started dating, you knew it. After hanging out longer than you assumed you would, you thought he might have changed and maybe you had a little bit of a part in the change he went through. So, you started dating and fell in love with him.

A big fucking mistake was what you did.

Assuming that he saw you as his girlfriend was one of the many little mistakes you’ve done. Apparently, you were just hanging out to him, there weren’t any dating in the middle, so he had been fucking girls all around.

Come to think of it, you shouldn’t have felt this hurt; you weren’t dating, you weren’t anything explicit. Yeah, you were fucking frequently, were always together at some place, let it be a bar or the cafeteria. Wherever he was, you were there, and wherever you were, he was there.

Bucky said that you weren’t dating, just fucking, but everyone except him thought that you were.

Then, there was this falling in love with him part. You were blinded, you ignored when he said you were just fucking and not dating. You knew it meant that he had been seeing other girls, but you ignored it because you loved him. You continued to ignore it until you caught him with one of them.

“Y/N, come on,” he said. You dropped the plates and sponge in your hand and went to your door. “I wanna talk, come on, plea─” You yanked the door open.

“What the fuck you possibly might wanna talk about?” You sneered. “You said we weren’t dating, that we were just fucking, so what is it that you wanna talk so fucking badly?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. His steel blue eyes were assessing your anger contorted face with large pupils. He faintly smelled like cigarettes and beer. “I’m waiting.” You heard him growl lightly and then, you were grabbed by throat and dragged inside with him. He slammed the door close.

“That is exactly what I wanna talk about,” he hissed. He bodily plastered you against the wall and caged you under his big body. You tried not to react, but it was hard when your body had been missing the hell out of him. Your heart was beating fast and your lungs had stopped working.

You always forgot how sexy and dangerous he looked when he was angry and turned on.

“Let’s go back to fucking,” he whispered, licking a fat line on your neck, nipping on the flesh. “Miss your body, baby, lemme make it sing under me again.” You tried to swallow, his hand around your throat making a bit harder, but you were loving it.

“You fucked every girl in the campus already?” You spit out. His hand increased its pressure, and you made a gurgling sound. Chuckling as black spots slowly appearing in your sight, you looked at him, ignoring the pounding in your head. “You c-came… back… w-with y’r… tail betw’n y’r legs.” Bucky snarled, leaning in dangerously close. His nose was touching cheek, you could see his eyelashes and feel his lips moving against your neck.

“You seem to love it whenever I came back, love,” he whispered. There was no blue to be seen in his eyes, it was all black. His voice had dropped low and became a little hoarse. You shivered. The black spots in your vision were getting a bit much, you could hear the warning alarms in your brain going off. Bucky kept the eye contact for five more seconds and then, he let go off your throat.

You gasped. Knees buckling, you fell on the ground. The oxygen quickly filling your burning lungs, you coughed and wheezed through them. You blinked the tears away as you tried to stand up. Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you upright, holding you tight against his solid body.

Your eyes found each other, and you cursed at your heart for starting to beat faster than before. You were also cursing at yourself for liking the way he grabbed your throat. You could now see why people were saying ‘love is a dangerous thing’.

Bucky pushed you against the wall gently, surprising you a little. You could see that he was battling with himself about something, but you couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was. You took a deep, shaky breath when you calmed down a bit. Bucky stepped forward. His body was touching yours, but it didn’t feel as dangerous and angry as it did few minutes ago. He lifted his hand to brush your hair back. Your heart did a flip.

“I came back to you because you’re the only one who accepts me without judgment,” he whispered. His eyes were roaming on your face with a weirdly soft look in them. “I came back because you don’t have high expectations from me. You know me, know what I’m capable of.” He leaned in slightly to have his lips brush against yours as he spoke. “You get me, love.” You whimpered so softly, tears making your eyes sting. Bucky’s hand in your hair moved to your cheek to brush one of the tears away. Why he was being so gentle, you have no idea, but this was the guy who made you fell in love with him, this you knew.

He leaned in to capture your lips this time. Those soft lips onto yours felt like heaven. It was like all your troubles, all those stressful and painful times had been washed away by his lips and you had nothing to worry and stress about. You felt like you were standing on the clouds when his lips were pressed onto yours like this. You let out a soft moan into the kiss. He swallowed it just like he did with the whimper following your moan. He pressed you against the wall fully, once again caging you between his body and wall. This time, you went willingly.

Bucky bent his knees to grab your thighs so that he could lift you up. As soon as your thighs are in his hands, you jumped and wrapped your legs around him while holding onto his neck with your arms. Bucky hummed approvingly and deepened the kiss. His tongue was licking and teeth nipping on your bottom lip, you moaned.

Without a need to ask, he made his way to your room. He knew which door was yours since he had been here many times. He stepped inside and with two large steps, you were dumped on the bed.

Bucky crawled on top of you. His body was radiating a warmth that you had missed so dearly, so you immediately grasped at him, pulling him in. He chuckled, going along, he positioned himself between your legs. His jeans were brushing against your bare legs; the rough fabric causing goosebumps all over your body. You felt his Bucky’s nose poking your jaw playfully, and then trailing down, he stopped when he came across to the collar of your oversize t-shirt. Mumbling non-sense to himself, Bucky ripped the t-shirt off. He ignored all the cries you let out because he just ripped your t-shirt.

“You owe me one,” you panted when he took a nipple in his mouth. Bucky kissed his way to your stomach, biting and sucking every available skin he could reach. You were a moaning, trembling mess under him. You clawed his sweatshirt. You wanted to feel his skin against yours; all smooth and scorching hot skin under your hands. He pulled back for a second to ditch the sweatshirt and his undershirt. He was wearing his dog tags today, you noticed and looped your fingers to it.

Pulling him into a filth kiss with the help of his necklace was easy, Bucky was ready to kiss you yesterday. His tongue slipped in your mouth, licking your lips before that. You moaned. Your hands were framing his face, feeling his knife-sharp jawline and scruff in your palms was a delicious thing.

You heard him fumbling with his sweatpants and then, they were lowered to his mid-thighs. He grabbed your knees, hooked them on his elbows and walked towards you on his knees. His thighs were pushing against yours, and your knees on the crook of his elbows meant that you were almost bent in half.

“Fuck, c’mon,” you groaned. Bucky grunted as he grabbed his cock and lined it up.

“Shit, pull your panties aside,” he growled. You scrambled to comply. Finding the soft fabric that was covering your pussy, you pulled it aside to give him way. He took it immediately. As soon as you uncovered your core, Bucky thrusted forward and slid into you with one move.

You cried out. The sudden intrusion was a bit unexpected, but you loved the burn and sting. Bucky knew that. Humming to himself, Bucky leaned over your body, effectively bending you in half, and started to thrust.

God, you thought. You fucking hated this son of a bitch for what he did you, but you also fucking loved him because his cock felt so good in your pussy whenever you had sex. It felt like his cock was made for only you, and pleasuring you properly was only reserved to him. It was a sad fact, but no one other than him made your body rang with pleasure like this before.

“Yeah,” you breathed when he hit your sweet spot. The stars went off behind your eyelids. “Fuck, James, yeah, right there!” His hips were constantly moving in and out, slamming his pelvis against yours, making his balls kiss your other hole with each pistoning movement; you were in fucking pleasure heaven.

“Oh, fuck, shit,” he hissed through his teeth when you clenched around him unintentionally. You cried out as he bit down your shoulder hard.

“Shit, harder,” you moaned. You were digging and dragging your nails in and down his back, giving him angry red lines, marking him up in your own way while he made you feel so damn good. “Harder, James, holy fuck!” You screamed when his hips started to slam against yours even harder. The sound of slick skin slapping each other got louder, the sound echoing in your room along with your moans and whimpers and gasps. “’m close!” You whined. Bucky stayed quiet although you could hear his soft, guttural moans and occasional grunts.

“Can feel it,” he said, voice rough and deep with lust dripping from it. “You’re clenchin’ around me like mad. Fuck, honey─” He moaned loudly this time and sneaked a hand to your pussy, immediately starting to play with your clit. You gasped, choked on a moan and almost bit your tongue off. His thumb was putting pressure on your abused clit while playing with it. Not even three seconds later, your legs started to tremble from their places on Bucky’s elbows violently and three more seconds later, you were coming on Bucky’s cock with a scream trapped in your throat.

You vaguely heard Bucky cursing, swearing, moaning and hissing through his teeth and felt his hips stop. When you managed to peek through your heavy lidded eyes, you saw him squeezing the base of his cock to stop himself from coming.

“Not done with you,” he grunted when he caught you peeking. You chuckled breathlessly. You felt your legs tingling pleasantly. You wiggled on the bed, feeling satisfied and happy. “C’mere,” you heard Bucky grunt again and before you could understand what was happening, you were hauled off the bed.

“What─” You got cut off with a gasp when your back made contact with the wall. Your legs were still quivering, pussy still clenching around nothing and was sensitive, you felt Bucky pushing back in. “MmmMM, fuck!” You cried out, head banging against the wall. Bucky growled.

“Yeah, baby,” he said. The look in his eyes was hungry, lust filled and predatory. You shivered. “You got what you need, ‘s my turn.” He rearranged you against the wall and in his arms before taking a better position and then, he was fucking off.

His hips started slamming, cock hitting all the sweet spots you had in your pussy but didn’t know about before. His balls were caressing and hitting against your other hole; you could feel the hair at the base of his cock against your pussy. Bucky was thrusting in and out of you at a mad pace. His biceps were bulging, abs clenching and pecs moving up and down, you couldn’t decide whether he looked like a fuck machine or a sex god.

“Ohh, shit, oh!” You whined as his pelvis rubbed against your clit. It was still sensitive, still throbbing lightly and you already felt like close to coming. Bucky, probably felt the rhythmic clenching around his hard cock, snarled and hoisted your legs up on his shoulders and crowded you against the wall even more.

“God, you have no idea how your pussy milkin’ my cock,” he whispered. He slightly changed his position and slowed his thrusts a bit so that he could hit deeper with long strokes, and your eyes rolled back with the intensity of this new position. “Lookit at you, fuck, you look so good on my cock.” His teeth latched onto your neck, right under your jaw, and he sucked and bit the skin there, leaving a mark which was going to be a bitch to cover. You didn’t care.

“James,” you breathed. “James…”

“Yeah, love?” Bucky panted. The sweat was beading on his forehead, his thigh muscles were twitching and his abs were clenching even more than before.

He was close.

“Hard,” you whispered and whimpered loud and long when his cock touched something in you. “Fuck me harder, give it to me harder, come on.” He smirked, briefly leaning into give you a filthy kiss.

“Your wish is command,” he whispered against your lips and picked up the pace.

It didn’t take long for you to become a whimpering mess in his arms yet again nor it didn’t take you long to come on his cock for a second time. Bucky swore as he buried his face in your neck, groaning and grunting as he chased his own orgasm. You slid your hand in his hair, your orgasm still ringing through your body, and pulled on them hard.

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed and his body collapsed on you, plastering you fully on the wall. You could feel every twitch, every weak spurt of come in your pussy. You hummed. Bucky was cursing with a weak voice. His legs were trembling as he lowered you on the ground with himself. You played with his hair for a couple seconds before getting off of him carefully. You could feel his come leaking, your legs tingling and satisfaction making your body hum happily. You grabbed another t-shirt from your closet and pulled it on you, padding back to the kitchen and leaving Bucky on the floor of your bedroom.

As you were sipping your water, he walked in. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips, chest bare and hair a mess, he looked thoroughly debauched. You smiled lightly.

“Damn, I could use a long nap,” he said, chuckling. You hummed. You poured him a glass of water, too, before you marched back into your room and grabbed his sweatshirt and shoes. When you returned, he was putting the empty glass back. You threw his sweatshirt to him, dropping his shoes by the door. Bucky caught the clothing on the air and looked at you all confused. You opened the door.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said with a cold voice. He blinked.

“What?”

“It’s late. Goodnight,” you repeated, showing the door with your head. His confused expression went and an unreadable one took its place before he straightened. He put his sweatshirt on and laughed coldly.

“Revenge,” he said, laughing again. He looked at you for a couple seconds before he grabbed his shoes and pulling them on quickly. He turned to you, looked like he was going to say something, but then he decided against it and walked out of your apartment.

You closed the door after him. Suddenly, the apartment felt cold without his warm body around you, and you shivered. Sighing sadly, you went to your room and stripped your t-shirt off to take a shower.

If it wasn’t for the ripped t-shirt on the floor of your bedroom and his come leaking, you wouldn’t believe what just happened.

You gave into him. Again. You knew that as long as you kept loving him, you were going to give in to him whenever he came around.

“Stupid,” you murmured to yourself as you stepped under the warm water. “You’re fucking stupid.”

It didn’t stop you from crying under the warm spray of your shower head while washing his come away.

[gallavichy]

I know we all gush over the tiny moments, but to me, this is a perfect example of your superior writing. 99.9999% of writers would have written, ‘Ian puts out his cigarette.’

You add tiny little real life thoughts to every single part of your stories. My partner, an avid reader, told me he can only think of one author who is kind of as detailed as you. He was shocked the first time I told him I know every single outfit, what they eat, where they go and the route they take, layout/design of rooms, etc.

You are the queen. 👑

this makes me want to cry 😭😭 thank you from the bottom of my heart. especially because i'm extra af with the detail to the point that a lot of it is unecessary and i know it, but...

detail is one of my favorite parts of writing specifically for an online platform. for me, it just makes the characters feel like real people that i know and love and can picture in my head.

i want my writing/reading experience to feel like hanging out with characters who are living in the world i'm currently living in. i want to picture mickey wearing a shirt i saw at urban outfitters last weekend. i want ian and mickey to sit on a bench in a park that actually exists. for me, it feels like taking tv characters that are in their own fictional version of reality and (obviously because it's an au, recontextualizing them and then) placing them in our actual reality rather than a fictional one. and doing that makes me love the canon characters even more. idk lol <333

[writingsfromhome]

Bad Timing II

A/N: I’m just about finished the whole series and I’m excited for you to read this! <3 Sorry for the late upload, I started a new semester and had zero time to write but I worked on this all weekend. I’m curious to know if your opinions on Harry change after this part, the next part’s going to be packed but this is an in-between. Thanks as always for reading <333

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

I lay awake in bed, staring at the blank ceiling before my phone’s constant buzzing forces me up. A couple voicemails, and a single text from Harry: GM, call me if you need anything.

I stare at it longer than I should, the audacity to think we were fine enough to text me so casually. But there was some small solace in knowing he took the extra step to let me know. Ugh; my head injury was more serious than the medic diagnosed. I throw my phone on the bed and head downstairs where I’m surprised to see him gone. It was only 8am and I needed a coffee, otherwise I would not make it through the day. When I see the pot of coffee half full, I stop in my tracks. Harry made coffee before he left. I touch the pot and it’s still warm, he couldn’t have left that long ago.

I open the dishwasher that I’d loaded last night only to find it empty. I stand straight, hand on my hips--had he unloaded the dishes too? How did I not wake up to the noise? How did he even know where everything went?!

Maybe he wasn’t such a dense detective after all, the thought makes me smile. I look around the room and notice he’d tidied up from last night, and folded everything away on the couch he slept on. I take my coffee to the couch and without thinking, hug the pillow to my face and inhale. The strong scent of his aftershave sends a sharp and painful jolt to my memories. What the hell was I doing?

I drop the pillow and settle on my kitchen table, responding to some emails while I make a game plan for the day, shaking off the claustrophobic feeling I got thinking about going back to work. I finish the last of the coffee and start moving, shower, dress appropriately, pack my laptop...I just had to keep busy so I wouldn’t have time to think about it.

***

“We’re here for you, whatever you need,” the regional manager lets me know during the meeting. I’d learned post-trauma policies the bank had. I was sorry to know them, I really just wanted to put the whole thing behind me. I tell her that. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. We do require you to go to at least one counseling session, your employees have got to go to a group meet with a licensed therapist so you can all discuss this and get over the awful event.”

“I see,” I chew my lower lip. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about the way I jumped at every little thing and stared down each and every stranger on the tube on my way in today. I felt crazy. Maybe I did need a shrink. “I’ll include that in the memo I guess. Thanks again for all the support and the resources-”

“That’s my job, our job.” She motions to the man sitting beside her who hadn’t actually said much the whole time. We talk for a little while longer, and by the time they leave I’m exhausted. But I make the trek to the hospital to visit Cole like I told him I would.

***

The weekend flies by: I take the train to visit my dad up north and let him take care of me like I was a kid again. It was nice to unwind, I thought, I should visit my dad more often.

But come Monday, I’m back in my pantsuit ready to get on with my life. I try not to think about Thursday too hard but it’s difficult when first thing that morning, a therapist shows up for a group session. Most of my employees look anxious to be here, but I watch their shoulders relax as they discuss what happened. Watching everyone bond brings a lightness to the heaviness that sat in my chest: it was good.

“Ms. Y/L/N? When can we schedule a one-on-one?” The therapist stops me at the end of the session.

“I think this session helped a lot,” I put on a big smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

She smiles politely, as if she expected this, “It’s a requirement for back-to-work. I have time right now if you’d like, I’m not seeing another employee until lunch.”

“Um,” I look to where everyone mingles, comforting each other and breaking off into groups. If I had to talk about it in order to work, and work is the only thing to help me get my mind off of it...I guess I had no choice. “Let’s do it now.”

But an hour later and I’ve mostly just talked her ear off about Harry showing up, how awful my luck was that he would be the lead detective on the case, how much damage he’d done to me. How he appeared on one of the worst days of my life again.

“It’s almost a sign,” I ramble. “Like...what are the odds?!”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” She asks, looking like she knew the answer.

“No,” I scoff. “I hate him. He broke my trust!” And my heart.

“Those are feelings,” she says wisely. 

“Well sure, yeah, I have negative feelings towards him. Why wouldn’t I?”

She pauses, a very pregnant pause. “It’s been almost 4 years right? Usually, those feelings start to...dissolve into a more neutral ground when you...receive closure. You take time to grieve, to sit in the wound in your heart, but then you pick yourself up and try to heal. It seems like you’ve just told yourself you were healed and got on.”

“I am healed,” I insist.

“Just like you started this sessions by letting me know you were over the trauma that happened to you a few days ago?” She asks. I avoid her gaze. “When I asked about Thursday, you said you were ‘over it’ and you just wanted to focus on work but you’re not giving yourself closure. Likewise, with Harry. You haven’t found closure even after all these years.”

I stare at her, she’d sliced right into a vulnerable part of me--I’d led her there, I realise. It was something I knew all along, I just didn’t want to point at it alone.

“You’re right...I feel like I never got closure.” I confess. “How? I just want to know h-how he could’ve left me for another woman after all those years together--as lovers and as friends? He was there when mum...he was there through hell. And then he put me through hell.”

“I’d like to believe Harry showing up on a...hellish day is a sign like you say. But maybe a sign you need closure. Talk to him, ask him what you need to know in order to close that chapter of your life.”

I exhale, the idea of it making me feel claustrophobic. She wanted me to open myself up to him again and invite him to hurt my feelings? I try to ask her more but she looks at her watch. We’d gone over.

I thank her and walk out with a weight on my back that feels bigger than the one I went in with. I thought therapy was supposed to make me feel lighter.

***

I’m hiding behind my desk as the footsteps get closer and closer to the door. I clutch the knife in my hand and-

“Y/N!”

I jump up out of sleep, and open my eyes to my office. I stare at the table in front of me where the papers I used as a pillow are rumpled.

“Y/N? You have a call on-”

“Adam,” I look at my assistant. He’d been really quiet today and I was worried about him but there was so much to catch up on I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him. “Sorry I...haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...the detective’s on the line he insisted he talk-”

I roll my eyes and answer the phone, motioning for Adam I’d be okay. He hesitates at the door before closing it tightly behind him.

“Y/N?” Harry’s breathless voice answers irritably on the other line.

“Harry? Why are you calling me at work?” I ask, still sleepy from the nap. Is this about the case?”

“No it’s about your things at the station, it was processed--we couldn’t find anything useful so we’re returning this batch. And I think some of it belongs to your staff? Did you want to pick it up or should I drop it off to yo-”

“I’ll pick it up,” I wanted to make it clear that Harry in my space wasn’t going to be a normal thing. “I’ll head out in a bit, can I just collect it at reception?”

“They’ll buzz you through to me, I’ve gotta go-”

“Just leave it with reception...” I say to dead air. He’d already hung up. Damn.

***

“I’m here for some things, it was taken for evidence?” I say to the woman at reception.

“You’ll have to be more specific love,” she raises an eyebrow. “A lot happens here.”

“The bank rob-”

“Ah, Harry’s case. I’ll buzz you through-”

“No I thought maybe I could collect it here uh-” I look for a nameplate. “Serena, listen, I’m in a rush so is there any way for you to get it-”

The phone ringing cuts me off. She holds up her finger and I stand tapping my foot. She rolls her eyes at whoever was on the other line, motions that they were chatty and points to the glass doors. I sigh, I guess I was seeing Harry. I think about my therapist and cringe, I couldn’t.

When I walk in, I scan the room for Harry but I don’t spot him anywhere. I walk awkwardly until someone asks if they could help but they point to his desk and tell me I could wait there.

“I’m actually here to pick up some evidence, couldn’t you just give it to me?”

“He’s the lead officer, he’s got to sign off--”

“Fine,” I hated the bloody bureaucracy around here. I go to where he points and sit in Harry’s chair, ignoring the looks from people around me. I toy with the pen and doodle on an empty paper. Y/N was here I write and smile, it was juvenile.

“Y/N! Sorry! Nobody told me you were here.” Harry shows up a few minutes later. He opens the bottom drawer and takes out a nondescript cardboard box. If I knew if was down there I would’ve left a long time ago. “Just need you to sign this.”

“Okay,” I sign where he points and reach for the box. “I’ll grab that, thank you.”

“Can I walk you out?” He fiddles with his phone.

“Will you take no for an answer?”

“Nope,” he’s all teeth when he smiles. I sigh and walk in front of him. It’s weirdly silent but I notice he was typing on his phone when I look over.

“Well...g’night then.” I say at the door but he pushes it open and walks out with me.

He finally puts his phone away and asks. “Are you alright? Have you gone back to work?”

“Yeah,” I chew at my bottom lip, nervous. “We’re really sticking together, trying to get through it.”

“That’s good. That’s how it should be.” He waits a beat. “We’ve been trying to catch the robbers, they hit up another bank so it’s hell inside. That’s why I was so busy.”

“Another?” My heart plummets, and my palms feel slick.

“Yeah but we’re working as fast as we can. So...uh, did you need anything from me before you go?”

“I...” I think about the therapist’s words and chew my lower lip. I try to work up the courage. Fuck it, I realise. I had nothing to lose. “I do...actually.”

“Oh,” he looks surprised. “Good, what’s that?”

“I want to talk, about us. I...I need like, closure Harry. I think I deserve an explanation about...” I trail off as I notice him staring at me blankly. “What?”

His blank expression settles into confusion. “What’s more to explain Y/N. I’ve told you everything, I-I dunno. I thought one day we could get together like old friends, but it’s obvious you’re still upset with everything and I don’t know what more I can say? I said everything in that letter but if-”

“The letter?” I ask sharply, cutting off his chatter.

“Yeah, the one I wrote you after we...after you moved out?” When I don’t react he continues: “I dropped it off at your sister’s the week after you cleaned out your things? You didn’t...read it?” He looks hurt, if that was possible all these years later.

“I...did. Obviously I just...had some questions.” My heart races; what letter? He wrote me a letter?

“So what do you want to ask?” He looks at me curiously, concern etched in his brows. “I would like to talk actually-”

“Now’s not a good time,” I cut him off again. I had to know about this letter first. I can’t believe I walked into this blind. “I’ve actually had a long day, this is--we can do this another time, okay? Thanks for...walking me out.”

***

The first thing I do when I get home is call my sister. I can sniff her guilt a whole country away.

“Y/N, you were heartbroken! Y-you didn’t need to have it broken all over again reading his stupid letter! I was looking out for you!”

“That wasn’t your call!” I raise my voice. “I’ve been...I haven’t had closure all this time! I thought he didn’t even care enough to try to explain it to me and you knew he sent a letter this whole time?”

“Well when he showed up to the flat I wasn’t about to-”

“When did he come to the flat?” I wanted to strangle my sisters and her protective instincts.

“After you moved your things out. He wanted to see you and I knew you were a mess, I told him you never wanted to speak to him. I was looking out for you babe I-I didn’t even realise I was keeping you from closure I just...I didn’t want you hurting. Don’t be mad.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, she was right. It was Harry who hurt me, and I shouldn’t take it out on her. “I know. I know. I’m sorry for yelling I just-I wish I could read that letter.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I should’ve given it to you once you moved out...I still have it though. I think I tucked it into my old yearbook. D’you want me to...”

“Mail it? Yes, as soon as possible please. I need to know what he wrote.”

“What if you just get hurt all over again?” she asks.

“I’ve been hurting, I don’t think his outdated explanation will hurt any more. Just please mail it the first chance you get okay?”

I was so close to it, I think. I had to get that letter. I needed closure. I deserved it. And just knowing I could get it, it’s almost like I was waking up in a dark tunnel I hadn’t realised I was in this whole time. I knew where I was, and I could see light on the horizon.

H POV:

The last time I had a full night’s sleep was on Y/N’s couch, this case was a lot bigger than we thought. It wasn’t just a robbery at one branch, these same people have hit up two other places in the last few days and they were good. The worst part was they weren’t afraid to use a gun.

“Chief,” one of the constables comes up to my desk, where I’d been staring at footage for the last hour. “There’s been um, there’s a problem-”

“Spit it out,” I say, eyes still on the screen.

“The evidence you released on Monday...blokes down in evidence can’t find the SIM from the scene...we think they accidentally left it with that batch.”

I look up from my screen and I can practically see the sweat breaking out on his brow as I stare. If that was important evidence, we’d misplaced it at the height of an investigation. My arse would be on the line too--it was my name on the authorization letter.

“Don’t panic until we’re sure it’s not with the evidence we gave out,” I get up and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking into it right now, don’t let anybody know it’s happened.”

I grab my jacket from my chair and root in the pocket for my phone but Y/N’s number goes to voicemail. I curse. I look at the time, it was 6 already. I had a feeling she might kill me but I would have to drive to her place, I hoped she didn’t leave the evidence at work...after all I did tell her to return it to her employees...I have the brief thought of asking her in the morning but I remember my arse on the line and walk quicker.

“Woah, someone’s in a hurry,” Detective Cole comments as I rush past her. “Not even a hello.”

“Sorry,” I flash her a smile. “Urgent!”

“Need any help?”

I pause long enough to turn around and answer. “Normally I would say yes but I’ve got to do this.”

“Don’t let me keep ya,” she smiles, I notice Serena eyeing the both of us suspiciously as she packs up for the day. She was always trying to convince me to ask her on a date, but I was done with dating coworkers after I made the mistake of marrying one and breaking up quickly thereafter in the past. I’d changed careers quickly after that.

Y/N’s POV:

“Oh my god,” I stop in the middle of my bedroom as my sister reveals her big news over Facetime, an ultrasound held up to the camera. “Oh my god!”

“I know!” She squeals.

“I-I-you’re pregnant!” I was shocked, I didn’t even know my sister was trying for a third kid. “You better give me a bloody niece this time!”

My sister laughs, one hand on her belly. I should’ve known, I realise, she’d been cryptic the last few times we talked, dropping clue, but I’d been so wrapped up in other things I didn’t pick up on them. “It wasn’t even planned but Y/N, it feels right. The boys are stoked--they want a sister too.”

“I am so happy for you and Stu,” I let out a whoop. “I wish I could hug you! I’m going to book some time next month and come see you--this is big! Did you tell dad?”

“Not yet, don’t say anything--oh,” a cry bursts out from somewhere on her end. She rolls her eyes and tells me she would call me back. But I get a text to say there was an accident with a toy truck and a jug of OJ, she would call me back later in the evening when everything was settled.

I throw my phone down on my bed and sit on the edge in my robe, I’d just come out of the shower to my sister’s call. I was over the moon for her, but it was times like these I felt like an awful person. Because as I think about her happy news, I put my hand to my own belly and imagine what it would’ve been like to be the one calling family with good news. The familiar ache in my chest comes back, once upon a time I did have good news for a short period of time.

It was a few months before Harry and I split, I’d skipped a period and went immediately to the pharmacy. I’d decided to wait for a week before I would tell Harry because he was stressed from work. He was always stressed at that job, but I wanted it to be perfect. I’d spent the whole week stopping by nursery stores, browsing baby books, even buying a few onesies and the cutest booties I couldn’t put down. I picture the baby--mine and Harry’s, wearing them.

But the day I’d planned to tell him, I’d woken up and knew instantly something was wrong. I never told him, I fought with him that day instead...I couldn’t even remember over what. I held the awful burden on my own, packed the future I couldn’t have into a little box and shoved it under the bed. A few months later, Harry and I were over. That future was as fragile as the paper-thin wings of a butterfly, one that would never take flight.

I do what I did on my darkest days, I root underneath my bed and pull out the box.

I still had it; it was morbid, holding on to a future that was deader than dead. But I hold it in my lap, and run my hands over each piece of clothing. I imagine just for a moment what I could have had, they would’ve been 3 and I would’ve been a mum. My chest tightens, and I squeeze the items closer.

H’s POV:

By the time I get to Y/N’s, I’d stress-sang so many 90s hits that most of my nervous energy had streamed out the car window. I gather myself, clear my hoarse throat, and knock; ready to be beheaded. When there’s no answer, my nerves return. I knock louder, and try to peer through the frosty window.

“Harry?” Y/N opens the door in a flourish, looking fresh from a shower. I try to block the visuals that spring to mind, my mind blanking as I try to remember what I had to say. “Hello? Harry? Why are you here?”

“Uhm,” I shake my head. “Urgent business--the evidence I gave you on Monday, please tell me you still have it?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “You’re knocking on my door at nearly 7 for evidence you returned to me?”

“It’s urgent,” I look around out of habit. “Y/N, we may have accidentally given you something with the evidence we were meant to keep--please I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I’m not messing with you, this is my head on the chopping block--I need to know if you have it.”

“For fuck’s sake Harry,” she opens the door wider. “Just...come in.”

“You have it?” I step in eagerly and close the door behind me, basking in the warmth inside. It was a chilly spring evening.

“I haven’t touched it since I brought it home, I threw it somewhere in my room.”

“Didn’t it...have your employees’ personal items in it?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s not like they’re eager to have reminders of that day!” she snaps and I back down. She turns in a flourish of her robes and walks upstairs. She doesn’t say anything so I follow her up, drinking in every detail I can about her new life as we pass through.

She’s headed into her bedroom when her phone buzzes. I recognize her sister from the contact photo that takes up the screen. She glances at me, and back at the phone, making a decision.

“It’s beside the dresser, don’t make a sound or my sister will come here in record time to rip your head off.”

“I take it she doesn’t like me,” I try to joke.

“She’s not the only Y/L/N sister that doesn’t like you,” she puts a finger to her mouth and takes the call into the other room.

Maybe I should stop cracking jokes with Y/N, I think. It was clear she still hadn’t forgiven me. I was surprised she still held on as vehemently all these years later.

I head into her bedroom, a tidy and plain room. Compared to what I’d seen of her main floor, her bedroom looked like it belonged in a hotel. I spot the box almost immediately resting between a laundry hamper and her dresser. I pick it up but on the way back, the box on her bed catches my attention. The lid is half on, and I know I shouldn’t but something almost possesses my hand to nudge the lid aside. I stare and what’s inside the box sends me reeling; like I was seasick, but with both feet firmly on the ground. The feeling punches me directly into a past I’d abandoned. A future I abandoned too.

When Y/N finds me a few minutes later, I’m holding the shoes from the box in my hands. She stops beside me. I look to her and her face is frozen in fear, before it shuts down into anger--no, fury.

“What the fuck are you doing going through that?” she snatches the shoes out of my hand and picks the box up.

“Y/N,” I say gently. “What...what is all this?”

“Did you find your stupid box? Just--” her eyes search the room frantically and settles on the evidence box on the bed. She picks it up and shoves it into my chest. “Take it and go Harry, I don’t want t-to talk. To you. Please just--” her voice breaks.

“Okay I’ll go I just...” my heart feels heavier than lead and I want to say the perfect thing to her but nothing comes out. When she shoves me I scuttle out. I hear the sob that escapes her as soon as I exit into the hallway, I almost turn to go back in and offer comfort. But I couldn’t comfort her, not since the day I gave up on her. I walk to my car, not even relieved to have the evidence. I don’t know how long I sit in the car and think about the contents of that box: folded in neat piles were baby onesies, bibs, and a pair of tiny shoes. Remnants from a broken past, a broken promise.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t heartless despite what Y/N thought. I know what my selfish actions did to her, I know how I’d fucked her up without meaning to. But it’s only now that the weight of it settles entirely on my shoulders. How many years has it been, and that small box of new onesies stayed under her bed. Her room might’ve looked sterile and fresh but its corners held heavier burdens than I thought were possible. A new feeling of shame blooms from within me, and it stays like a bad aftertaste.

***Y/N POV:

I was going to read that letter, find my closure, and burn everything from my past ceremonially in a bonfire, I think as I watch the trees in my backyard rustle with the morning wind. It had been a few days but I couldn’t even focus on him finding that box, the humiliation of watching him look up at me with confusion and pity...it was enough he’d broken my heart, but now he felt sorry for me too. I focus back on the greenery while my fingers toy with the letter that’d come in the mail, a few years late.

The envelope looked worse for wear but it was still as sealed as the day Harry had written it. I hesitate, trace my fingers over my name on the front. A memory comes rushing to me, Harry in my dorm writing silly things on my post-its and sticking it in places I wouldn’t find until he’d left. Like under my covers, or inside my closet door. They would be silly like

Y/N smells like farts

or cheesy like

have a terrific day

. I usually tossed them, other I’d tucked between classroom textbooks. I wonder what happened to them.

Finally, I work up the courage to slide my finger under the seal and break it open. Two pages fall out, his distinct writing halfway between cursive and chicken scratch covers both pages. I read:

Y/N

You’re probably wondering why you’re reading this--I don’t think I deserve your consideration for even a moment let alone for enough time it will take for you to read this. Yet I want so badly for you to read this, to just know I didn’t mean for this to happen to us. And I know you think I’m the one who did it to us, but I need to explain.

You always told me I was good with my words, that maybe I was an artist in another life--a poet you liked to say. But every time I try to find the right words to say to you, English may as well not be my first language. I should have tried harder, should have found the right words for months but I kept putting it off until it was too late.

You are and will always be my best friend first, Y/N, I know I’ve broken your trust but I care about you deeply. I just wasn’t happy. And that had to do with the road we were going down together, not you. I’m deeply sorry for the words I said that day, for how I’ve made you feel these last few months. I guess, ultimately, I was being selfish. And I don’t have an excuse for that. I fucked this up but I wasn’t happy and I was taking it out on you, and on us. I used the things we couldn’t have as an excuse, but I’m not happy where I am in my life. And that’s something I need to find; I need to figure out what I really want.

I can only hope we’ll circle back to each other one day, in the future, when we’re in better places. But I don’t think we were right like this, maybe it’s bad timing, or maybe there’s a blanket over us much too heavy for us to find comfort under. I’m sorry for leaving us like this and for breaking your trust but I need to do this.

Know you’re perfect as you are, right now, there’s absolutely nothing about you I would ever change. I, on the other hand, have a lot of changing to do.

I wish you nothing but the best, you deserve the whole bloody world Y/N, but I don’t think I can give that to you. I hope one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. For now, know I love you and I’m truly sorry.

Harry, xx

My finger brushes over the last line, I take myself back to the Y/N and Harry four years ago--and it’s not so hard to do. I lived there more often than I’d like to admit. But I picture us, I picture Harry sitting down to write this. How might I have taken this if I read it all those years ago? I picture myself dissolving into tears--maybe my sister was right in not showing me.

I also imagine I would have known why, and maybe I wouldn’t be where I was right now if I’d had that closure.

But even all these years later, the tears stream down my face as if it were just yesterday Harry handed the letter over to my protective sister. There was so much hurt and heaviness, looking at it from the perspective I had now...I see a glimmer of truth in Harry’s letter. We’d worked wonderfully as best friends, and our intimacy was comforting. But we were also two people being pulled in two directions while clinging onto what we thought would keep us happy. It didn’t mean I forgave him for what he did, how he did it. But I finally understood why.

All this time, I asked why--I wondered if there was something I could’ve done to have fixed it before he left. I see now, he’d wanted an out the whole time. Nothing would have fixed us except time apart. I still felt like shit, but this epiphany made me feel closer to the closure I needed. The light on the horizon grows a little brighter. We’d just had bad timing.

***

I feel bright and chipper Monday morning; a sunny morning and a weekend of closure could do that to a woman. I bring along with me a box of treats; it had been a week since the horrible robbery. We’d put some precautions in since, had the therapist stay a few more days, a few of the employees decided to transfer and as sad as I was to see them go I knew it was the right thing for them to do to feel better. As for myself, I forgot about it most of the time. But it would creep in every so often and freeze me up.

I spoke to the company’s therapist once more after Monday, she’d asked about Harry and I had told her about the letter. She was intrigued but quickly changed the topic to how I was feeling after the events of last Thursday.

“Y/N?” Adam walks into the staff room as I finish the note to accompany the treats. “What’s all this?”

“Treats to cheer everyone up! Not that sweet fried dough is going to erase everyone’s PTSD...” I try to make a joke but Adam’s face is tense like it’d been since that day. “Adam I’m teasing...have you um, have you talked to someone one-on-one?”

“Me? Why?” He jumps. “I’m fine, I’m alright it’s mostly out of my head anyway.”

“Hm,” I look him up and down. “I don’t believe you but I’ll let it drop...for now.”

He fidgets with his hands, “Anyway I came in here to let you know the detective on the case called first thing about returning some evidence-”

“I can’t pick that up.” I say finitely. “Do you have room today? Maybe take an extended lunch and pick that up?”

“From the station?” he stutters.

“Is that where he said it was?”

“Uh yeah, yes. He wanted you to pick it up.”

“Well DCI Styles won’t get what he wants for once, you’ll pick it up at lunch okay? Just keep me posted.”

I go back to my office with a coffee and get a crack on with my work. I check for any updates on the client from last Thursday but I continue to receive the automated email that their office was closed for the week. It was weird, but I just make a note to follow up later on.

After lunch, Adam appears shaken, with the evidence. I instruct him to leave it in the staff room and send out an email, making sure to remind them that they didn’t have to go through it if they didn’t want to. I would keep it there until it was cleared out, even if that took the month. I think about my scarf in there, the one used to tie my hands. I wanted to burn it, never see it again. I send Adam a quick email to remove it from the box and dispose of it.

H’s POV:

“This just doesn’t make any sense,” I comb my fingers through my hair, as if it might trick my brain into seeing the pattern here. “This same group’s hit four places total, and yet Y/N...the HSBC was the first. There’s got to be a connection there, it’s here but I just can’t see it.”

“Harry,” Detective Cole puts her hand on my shoulder briefly before moving it away. “Maybe you need a break, I don’t think I’ve seen you go home the last few days and your shirt’s a bit...ripe. Maybe take the rest of the day off?”

I sniff myself, she was right. She shrugs with a I had to say it look.

She was right too that I hadn’t gone home. I did almost nothing but focus on this case, not only because it was growing bigger by the day and I had pressure from upstairs. But it was a welcome distraction to the new guilt that seemed to jam every other area of my life.

It was almost like I was reliving a timeline, going back three or so years ago. It felt like Y/N and I were freshly broken up, and I was trying to pick myself back up from it. Except that’s not the way it went all those years ago--I’d moved on, quickly then. But now, time was catching up. Or maybe it was karma.

“Earth to Harry?” Cole waves her hand in front of my face. “You really should go home.”

“Yep,” I scratch my stubble. I should shave too. “I’ll just drop by evidence before I go.”

She looks like she was going to say something but she gets up from the chair beside my desk, and walks back to her own. I sigh, sifting through the files on my desk to take home with me. My notepad underneath shifts and I spot Y/N’s familiar writing: Y/N was here. I run my finger over it and smile, remembering how she had written that on the baseboard of every flat or dorm room we’d left. And just like that, the guilt and shame take the memory’s place. How the fuck was I supposed get past this and focus, I think.

I shove my files into a bag and head out. Evidence tells me there wasn’t a lot on the sim card but they were still trying. I ask for an email if anything comes to light, and go home where I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

i meant to take a short nap, but I wake at 4am and my mind’s buzzing with so many thoughts that I have nothing else to do but get up, eat a mashup of breakfast and last night’s dinner. With nothing more to do, and 6am creeping up, I decide to get in my car and drive while the roads were somewhat clear.

Driving helped me think sometimes, on my worst case after my promotion, I’d gotten on the road one night and driven all the way to Leicaster. After a night’s rest in a hotel and the drive back home, I’d cracked the case. But this time, with my thoughts racing, I end up driving to Y/N neighbourhood on autopilot. Maybe because she was on my mind, the guilt a constant companion since that day.

I park on the other side of her street, and watch her front door from the rearview. I don’t know why I was there, it felt ridiculous and creepy. Yet, I couldn’t leave. Maybe I could offer her a ride to work, I think. But I know she would decline because she didn’t even come in herself to collect her evidence. She’d sent her awkward assistant instead.

Her door suddenly opens, and a strange man walks out. She leans on the doorframe and laughs at something he says. He leaves a kiss on her cheek and walks away. She shouts something after him and he turns, saying something back that gets her laughing. My heart races, seeing her face in the distance wrinkle with laughter. I remember all the times I could get her to do that, effortlessly. The guilt returns tenfold.

He adjusts his coat, turning back around and she watches him fondly for a few seconds longer before closing her door. I’m suddenly irritated, immediately suspicious of this bloke. I watch, unblinking, until he turns the corner out of sight. Who was he? Her boyfriend?

I look at the time on the dashboard, 7:08am. I sit, indecisive for another half an hour. My thoughts churn: the robberies, the motives, Y/N, the worn out box with baby clothes, her male guest who’d spent the night, the look on her face when she’d woken up after her concussion and saw me: disbelief, anger, and sadness.

I get out of the stuffy car and walk across the street where I hesitate outside her door. I knew I was crossing a line, pushing a boundary she put up by not picking up the evidence herself. She’d made it clear what she wanted, but I never denied that I was a selfish bastard. I raise my hand, and knock.

[fandomsnfluff]

obey me headcanons!

ok so i’ve been playing for a couple weeks now and i am absolutely HOOKED oh my GOD. it was only a matter of time before i strung up a few headcanons for the lovely demon brothers of this game!! i currently don’t have any hcs for the side charas bc i don’t know them very well yet but i might think up some at some point!!

this was also somewhat inspired by my request to @nox-exists​, i thought they were lovely so i was inspired to write some of my own!! (once again thank you for answering!! <333)

lucifer

this big ol lump isn’t really all that ticklish. he does have a few sensitive spots, but they’re pretty hard to reach though due to the specific location of the spot or it being concealed by his rather thick clothing

he used to get into a lot of tickle fights with his brothers when they were younger, but due to the responsibility as the oldest and the lead of the household he’s put on a more mature facade and he now kinda thinks it’s dumb

...except when he’s with his s/o, he’s more than open to allow them to explore his body, but even if they don’t find his ticklish spot, he’s more than happy to completely turn the tables and reduce them to a puddle of laughter and tears

that said, he is a completely merciless ler. again, as the oldest, he has LOTS of experience (even if he doesn’t do it as much now) and he knows exactly where and how to tickle. after all these years he still knows where his brothers are the most ticklish, and he is more than happy to dole it out as a punishment for bad behavior (mostly in unique circumstances though)

so yeah, like i said, he does have a few weak spots, and listen closely now: going for his neck or a specific area on the hips will probably get the most out of him, but it’ll probably be a reaction that’s still kind of disappointing :/

mammon

omg he’s totally ticklish but he HATES it. like his entire body is COMPLETELY covered in weak points and he often finds himself subconsciously squirming away from his brothers’ touches bc they’re lightly touching a weak spot when they hug him or playfully prod him

as the spiritual oldest when it comes to tickling, he’s often the one to turn into the tickle monster when his brothers are being stubborn or annoying or cute or if he just wants to do it

he’s a lot like lucifer in the sense that he is a COMPLETELY merciless ler, he will go for his lee’s weakest points until they have tears streaming down their cheeks and his hands move WAY too fast for theirs to catch up and he knows exactly how to combine this method with targeting the person’s weakest spots

yet, he’s also the kind of person that can be best described as “being unable to take what he dishes out”; he will INSTANTLY start begging if the tables are turned on him, he’ll just scream and caterwaul until he gets his way (like he does with most other things anyways so sdkhjdfshdf)

he’s the weakest under his arms and on his sides and stomach, but his feet and knees are also pretty ticklish too!

leviathan

ok this one is EASILY the most ticklish brother by FAR. he’s not ticklish in the same sense as mammon tho, bc he can pretty much hold out when someone touches a sensitive spot when he gets hugged or playfully touched, but the general threat of tickling or mention of it will have him SPRINTING

he and belphie are the ones who are constantly ganged up on because their reactions are so funny, and mammon of course is the one to start it. he will literally start screaming the INSTANT it starts and someone will definitely get slapped or kicked in the face

he doesn’t tickle people a lot (bc he’s shy), but when he does it’s actually rather messy and cute. he’ll just be laughing alongside his lee as he messily tries to find their weakest spots and make them laugh

the SOUNDS that come out of him are so funny istg. he makes EVERY single one under the sun omg, like he squeals, squeaks, snorts, chortles, screams, ALL of it. it’s the cutest thing

he’s stupidly ticklish everywhere, but his neck, armpits, and sides are SUPER weak. also the backs of his knees are pretty weak too

satan

he’s definitely ticklish, but let me tell you, he HATES being tickled more than ANYTHING else (probably even more so than lucifer). it’s not because he’s overly sensitive, but because he just finds it incredibly annoying and distracting

he finds tickling kinda dumb so he tries to stay out of anything related to such (usually started by mammon). in rare instances when he’s not focused on something else like reading or when he’s feeling just a bit playful, he might join in or even initiate it. sometimes he likes to try and research it as well, but only in secret of course

he’s a pretty evil ler tbh. he somehow still knows where his brothers are ticklish but he’ll save their worst spots for last and just tickles all around their bodies until they’re about to cry before going to their weakest spots. he does it because he thinks it’s the most torturous method, but he secretly thinks it’s cute

he was actually tickled a lot by mammon when they were younger, but then he grew to hate it and stopped enjoying their tickle fights. now whenever mammon tries to pull some shit he just yells at him to back the fuck up and get away from him

he’s EXTREMELY ticklish on the backs of his knees, but his armpits and sides are also pretty sensitive. but he absolutely HATES having his feet tickled, he’ll just kick out and yell

asmodeus

ah yes, this beautiful flirtatious boyo. he is an extreme tease and he absolutely LOVES playful tickling with his brothers!! he has quite a fair range of weak spots himself tho ;w;

he usually attempts to turn one-on-one experiences with someone other than his brothers into something a bit more spicy, but sometimes he just gets too weak to make it so and can’t help but just laugh

he’s an extremely touchy and physically affectionate person, so he usually finds himself in a position where the person he’s with ends up being ticklish and he can’t help but tease them by brushing up against their sensitive spots or just tickling them outright

despite being very physically affectionate himself, he’s often rendered susceptible to his brothers’ attacks, especially by mammon. he usually contributes to tickle fights in one way or another between the brothers, but this puts him in a very susceptible position because mammon will NOT let a SINGLE one of his brothers out of the tickle pile without experiencing his wrath at least once (even satan)

for some reason he’s RIDICULOUSLY sensitive on the bottoms of his feet and also on his neck, he HATES it because for him those spots are super hard for him to defend. he often finds himself laying on his stomach for his brothers (mammon) to go to town on him and make him squeal with glee

beelzebub

oh my fucking god he is THE definition of tickle monster. he tickles belphie literally ALL the time because he thinks his baby brother is the cutest thing in such a vulnerable position ;w;

he thinks tickling is cute and can be a good way to distract himself from his hunger, and he enjoys playful squabbles with his brothers from time to time

he’s not a really evil ler like mammon or lucifer, he’s a lot more gentle but he still knows exactly how to target someone’s weak spots until they’re begging or literally crying. but he does have pretty good self-control, he always stops when he feels like he’s getting carried away or when he gets the sense that the person has had enough. he also ALWAYS stops when the person tells him to stop, he takes that as a sign that he’s getting too carried away

he’s actually not too ticklish himself, but he does have his sensitive spots!! he’s about 90% ler, but he is the SWEETEST and cutest lee ;w;

his weak spot is his stomach, but his sides and some parts of his legs get him pretty well!! he has the sweetest laugh and he’ll snort and hiccup on occasion too ;o;

belphegor

oh man. oh mAN. GOD IF SOMETHING WERE TO HAPPEN TO LEVI THEN THIS ONE WILL EASILY TAKE THE PLACE AS THE MOST TICKLISH BROTHER I MEAN COME ON

gets into a lot of tickle fights with beel (as we’ve established), but he usually ends up on the bottom crying for his brother to stop, he’s just too ticklish for his own good and there’s no way he would EVER win a tickle fight against his twin

even though levi is technically the most ticklish, belphie comes off as much more cute and laid-back, likely due to his “sleepy” nature, so he’s often rendered susceptible to attacks from all of his brothers who end up tickling him until he’s crying or turned into a complete puddle

despite his own sensitivity, he is a completely MEAN ler. he won’t necessarily pin his lee down, but he’ll get them in a position that will make it easiest for him to attack all of their sensitive spots, moving his hands from place to place to make his lee scream and cry out for mercy. he doesn’t tease a lot verbally but he’ll be beaming on the inside, which will give him the energy to continue his sadistic attack

he’s ticklish everywhere, like ANYTHING will work on him, but his weak spots are armpits, sides, knees, and feet. he’ll get pretty grumpy if you target his lower body and he’s a kicker so be careful ;o;

[vityuuwrites]

Know we didnt talk in a while and I hope u okk now... also wondering if u wanna do a vicuuri x never let me down?

Chose a random nr from my playlist and it was kinda lucky :)

ahhh i’m good now yeah, ty for worrying!! hope you are too <333 i’m sorry this is so late ASKSKS i hope you like it!! i might or might not have written most of it during a lecture whoops,,, also ty for the request! 

-

Victor is used to hiding everything behind a smile.

He never talks about his feelings – there's no space for them in skating. Maybe there was years ago, when he was still bright-eyed and hopeful, when love coloured his every move, his every jump and he was filled with indescribable joy after every performance. When skating was something he did because he loved it and not only because it was the only thing he was good at.

But now, Victor is Victor Nikiforov. He's Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, an untouchable god in skating no one could come close to, who was naturally good at it. Someone who never made mistakes, never faltered – he was the one person everyone wanted to catch up to, to push out of the top.

If they knew how lonely it was there, maybe they wouldn't want it because Victor is alone and he has to be alone. He has to be alone because he can't show any weakness to anyone.

Yuuri Katsuki is not like that.

It is almost like every single one of his emotions is etched onto his face, in the furrow between his eyebrows whenever he's anxious, or the shy turn of his lips whenever he's happy. His eyes sparkle when he's excited, his arms moving with the speed of his words. Victor feels warm whenever he looks at him.

He never thought that the man who swept him off his feet – quite literally – at that banquet so long ago would one day be moving in with him. He never thought that this level of happiness was possible. Not for him.

It made him want to be more open with himself. He wanted to share the parts of himself he kept hidden for so long – the lonely, broken parts of him that he never let anyone see – with the world.

Or just with Yuuri. There wasn't much difference to him, after all.

It was hard, though. His mind was, is and forever will be a dark, dark place that he sometimes sunk into. It was never as bad as Yuuri had it, he didn't think, but his thoughts were still hard to escape.

Victor Nikiforov is 28 years old. He is 28 years old which means his body is a ticking bomb just ready to go off at any seconds.

He knows he only has maybe one or two good seasons left. He can feel it in the hollow ache of his muscles all the way down to his bones, in the way his knees buckle when he lands a jump and his stamina is starting to get worse.

He only has one or two good seasons left in him and he doesn't want them to go to waste.

Maybe deciding to get back to skating was a bad idea. Maybe Victor should have let himself be blown out like a candle while he was still at his peak, suddenly and without a warning before people around him started noticing his weakness.

But he wanted to skate with Yuuri.

Him returning to the ice made Yuuri happy.

Victor lives for making Yuuri happy.

“Victor?” Yuuri says, breaking Victor out of his thoughts. Yuuri turns from the pan he is hunched over. His eyebrows crease with worry. “Are you ok?”

Victor forces a smile as he taps his fingers against the marble island stretching out over the middle of the kitchen. “Of course I am, Yuuri. Why’d you ask?”

Yuuri fully turns to him. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we’ve returned from practice.”

Victor hesitates for a second too long and he knows that Yuuri sees right through him. Still, he glances away as to not face his gaze. “I’m fine.”

Yuuri frowns but he does not pry, just turns back to the omelette he’s making.

Victor is grateful for that.

-

Victor is laying in the dark with the soft buzz of snowflakes hitting his window a backdrop to his thoughts. His hand is curled around Yuuri’s waist, rubbing the warm skin while Yuuri’s hair tickles at his chest and his breath strokes across his collarbones. He watches the cracks across his ceiling, like cracks under skates that split the smooth surface of the ice.

His eyes glance at his hand that spreads out across the sheet. The golden ring glints in the sliver of moonlight. His lips curl into a smile.

It is the only gold he ever won that does not feel like a shackle around his neck.

“Yuuri?” he whispers into the peaceful room. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri murmurs and shifts in his hold. Bleary eyes turn to face him. Victor’s hand tightens on his waist. “I am now.”

Victor huffs out a laugh as his eyes turn back towards the ceiling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers. “I was just checking.”

Yuuri’s hair tickles him through his silk pajama top as he shakes his hand. “It’s ok, I don’t mind. We don’t have practice tomorrow morning, anyway.”

“True.” He keeps his gaze on the ceiling. “I’m still sorry.”

Yuuri’s hand moves from the sheet to hold Victor’s. He gives it a squeeze.

“Yuuri?” he says again after a minute of silence that presses heavy against his chest. “Can I…” He bites his bottom lip as he struggles to say something. Anything. He knows Yuuri will not judge him if he does.

The words still get stuck in the back of his throat.

Yuuri lifts his head from Victor’s chest and shifts higher to tilt his head so their gazes meet. “Victor?” he says softly.

Victor loosens a shaky breath and searches his eyes. He squeezes his hand tighter. “I’m scared,” he finally manages to choke out and sighs as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He roughly wipes them away with the back of his hand.

Yuuri blinks. His hand grips Victor’s and gently pushes it away in favour of wiping the wetness away himself. “Of what?” he whispers, hand lingering against his cheek.

Victor nuzzles into it like a kitten and gives another shaky sigh. “I don’t know,” he says, gritting his teeth together. He looks back up towards the ceiling so he does not have to face him. “Nothing. Everything.”

“Is this why you’ve been awfully quiet today?” Yuuri asks. His voice is soft and caring and Victor wants to weep. He does not know why; it is just pressing heavily against very being.

“Maybe? I’ve just been too stuck in my mind.” He presses an arm over his eyes to hide the tear that slides down his cheek. It feels freezing cold. “I hate it. I hate it so much.”

Yuuri’s hand squeezes the hand he’s holding. “Victor…” he leans in to wrap his arms around him, pulling his head against his chest. Victor’s shoulders shake and he burrows his face into his chest as he gives a silent sob.

“Is there anything I can do?” Yuuri’s warm hand strokes circles into his scalp. Victor releases another shaky breath.

“I’m scared,” he says again, voice tight as he attempts to gather his thoughts. “I’m scared, Yuuri.”

Yuuri presses a soft kiss against the crown of his hair. “It’s ok, let it all out, it’s ok,” he whispers and Victor feels something inside of him break. His tears flow out freely, and he hiccups as he clutches at him like a lifeline.

“ It’s just,” he starts and scowls, his tears staining Yuuri’s sleeping shirt. “It’s just… I’m scared this is my last good season. I’m scared because I’m 28 and skating is the only thing I’ve done for more than 20 years. I don’t know how to do anything else, I don’t want to retire but I also know I need to because I – I can feel it. I wobble on jumps, I get tired too easily, I’m one knee injury away from retiring anyway. But I also don’t want to retire yet because – because you taught me to love skating again and I’ve just started to enjoy it again and – and ---”

Victor grits his teeth together. Yuuri just silently holds him.

“And I don’t want to let you down,” Victor adds in a near whisper as he grasps at him tighter and curls up into himself. “I know you want to skate with me and I want to skate with you and even saying that I want to skate is amazing because I was going to retire this season but I really, really want to but I’m scared that if I return I’ll just let everyone down. Everyone expects me to be so amazing all the time but I can’t be and I know I need to retire before I’m forced to by an injury.”

Victor takes a deep breath and slumps against himself. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Yuuri’s hand moves to rub his back. “How long have you been sitting on that?” he asks, voice feather-light and gentle. Victor gives a little laugh.

“A while,” he admits. “I’m… not used to talking about my feelings. I didn’t think anyone would care as long as I skated alright.”

Yuuri’s lips find the crown of his head again. “Thank you for telling me,” he says and when Victor looks up at his face, bathed in pearly moonlight, he sees he is smiling. Victor closes his eyes when Yuuri brushes his bangs out of them.

“I hope I didn’t pressure you into returning to the ice,” Yuuri continues and cups his cheek. His hand is warm against his freezing cheek. Victor sobs and nuzzles into it again, trying to control his breathing.

“You didn’t, I did it because I wanted to skate alongside you.”

“Good, because I never want to pressure you into anything.” His lips find his forehead. “You’d never let me down, Vitya. Never. You can flub as many jumps you want, you can retire, hell, you can move to Antarctica and stay there to, I don’t know, study the penguins alone, I would always be in awe of you. I would always love you.” He hesitates. “You know that, don’t you?”

Victor sobs louder and presses his hand against his mouth. “I-I’m trying,” he admits. “I’m…Not used to that.”

Love always felt conditional to him. If he skated well, the audience loved him. If he behaved (though he rarely did), Yakov loved him. If he scored well, Russia loved him.

If he stays untouchable, if he overworks himself into exhaustion, if he stays the living legend, the world loves him.

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri breathes and squeezes him closer. His hands fist at the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to do anything special for me to love you. I won’t love you less if you fuck up, if you’re not always the best. You can never let me down. You saw me at my worst and you never ran away. Why would I?”

“I—I don’t know,” he says, voice shaking. He bites back another sob and takes a deep breath. “It felt like you would.”

“Never.” Yuuri starts stroking his hair again, hand shaking the tiniest bit. “You’re stuck with me, Vitya. I can’t promise you that you won’t fall and injure yourself tomorrow. I can’t promise you that your body won’t catch up with you.”

Victor glances up at Yuuri’s face when Yuuri’s hand urges him to look him in the eyes. He sniffles, another tear leaking down his warm cheek.

“But what I can promise you,” Yuuri continues and gives him a watery smile as he wipes it away. “Is that if those do happen, I’ll be here. If you decide you want to retire, I’ll be here. I won’t leave you. I could never leave you. I love you too much.”

Victor throws his arms around him and sobs softly into his shoulder, shaking as Yuuri’s hand warms him down to his core when it draws nonsense shapes Victor’s too lost to recognise.

“I love you too,” he answers shakily when a few minutes pass and his breathing starts to slow, his shaking a mere tremor compared to how he began. He pulls away only slightly, so slight their chests still touch, to give Yuuri a watery smile just as the moon peeks out from behind a thick cloud and sheds a sliver of light over Yuuri’s porcelain-smooth face. “I love you so much.”

He buries his head into the crook of his neck again, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin he finds there. “What have I ever done to deserve someone as amazing as you?” he breathes in deeply to ground himself.

“Existed,” Yuuri says and brushes his hair away from his face before their hands twine again.

Victor starts softly weeping anew.

[wandsandwheezes]

My 1k Followers Celebration!

I recently hit 1k followers on here - something that absolutely blows me away - I only started my blog on here around two months ago so to grow so much in that time literally warms my heart! 

To Celeberate my ask box will be open for a little bit of celebratory chit chat including;

🌸 - CYM 

✨ - WIP sneak peek (I'll drop a line or two or maybe just a title if nothing’s writtwn yet)

💌 -  title game: give me a title and I’d tell you what fic I’d write for that title.

🌈 this or that - send me two things, characters, songs, etc and I’ll tell you my preference!

🍓 ask me anything - nothing is off limits! ask my anything, anon or not

I have so many people to thank for supporting me on this journey namely all of my Chaotic Eggs (inclusive also of the Rotten Eggs) and all of my amazing mutuals who have sung my praises from the start - also to every single follower, commenter and reader, without you i wouldn’t have the motivation to continue writing so thank you from the very bottom of my heart<3333

under the cut is my announcement for what you can expect from me in the coming weeks!!

Introducing Fake It - Till You Make it

Think of TYMI as a Season Two of the Original Series Fake It. This Series is Co-Written by my angel Zahra @starlightweasley​ - this girl is possibly Fake It’s biggest fan and 90% of the reason we even have a season two is because of her MIND and the fact that we wanted to give Freddie the joy he deserves <333 

You can read the summary to Till You Make It 

Fake It ended with George and his partner reconciling in a love stronger than before and Fred Weasley was left with the shattering consequences of his actions - Uttering the unspeakable curse to save those he cared about, Fred deals with his own personal journey of defeating his inner demons. 

Feeling as a shell of his confident persona, the older twin deals with a rabbit hole of despair and thoughts filled with darkness and agony. That is until he meets someone special. Someone who helps him begin to learn that life is truly worth living, alas... not all stories are smooth-sailing and everyone has skeletons in their closets and invisible scars. 

An adventure tainted by tragedy but filled with hope and love, Fred learns that you can often fake it until you make it but every so often something real comes along and changes your life for the better.

The series is linked to the original one but will be written In a way that you can still enjoy them independently! 

tagging some friends that have been my angels <3 // @weasleysflowr​​ @gcdric​​ @theweasleysredhair​​ @hufflepuffgirly​ @whiz-bangs78​​ @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​ @cappsikle​​ @minty-malfoy​​ @vivianweasley​​ @feetoffthetablee​​ @thisismynerdyself​​ @vogueweasley​ @witch-and-a-half​ 

[slliest-clownmari]

Hello again! For the month of June we decided to don our best Icarus costumes because we flew directly into the sun on this one! Extra long disclaimer this time. If you're interested in the technical side what we did and how it went wrong, or want to see the raw numbers, that'll be at the bottom of this post!

Disclaimer: There were two major errors during collection. The first one resulted in five people's views not being collected for the first half hour of the event.  These people were SMajor/Noxcrew, ItsFunneh, Squaishey, ASFJerome, and Mefs, amounting to about 56k views when added back. The second error left a 45 minute gap in the data where nothing is collected. While these are major errors general trends are still visible and neat to look at!

TL;DR: MCCP21 peaked with 627.4k viewers a little more than thirty minutes into the event. 65.4% of those viewers were watching the Pink Parrots, and 87.9% of those were watching Technoblade. The second most watched team was the Lime Llamas at 16.9% of viewership, 77.6% of that coming from Wisp.

For easier viewing of the graphs, check out the Google Slides version! Total Viewership Over Time

The event peaked with 627,421 viewers at 8:33PM which was during Sky Battle. Looking at the trend of the data, this statistic is unlikely to have changed if the missing 45 minutes had been counted, especially seeing how the peak of MCC14 was also easily in the first hour.  Data collection began about an hour before the event's official start at 8:00PM and ended an hour after the event's end at 11:08PM.

Viewership by Individual Over Time

A fun game you can play with this graph, sans the labels, is guess which one's Technoblade! So far everyone I've shown the unlabelled graph to has guessed correct.

Three people went live after the official start time of the event at 8:00PM, those being Technoblade, Grian, and AyChristeneGames. Four streamers had gone offline prior to the end of 20vs20 Dodgebolt at 11:08PM. Twenty of the 24 participants had gone offline within 5 minutes of the event end. This is in sharp contrast to MCC14 where it took 15 minutes to have half of the 36 participants to go offline. MCC14 participants were also more likely to start streaming well in advance of the event. (For context, only Twitch data was collected for MCC14.) This is probably a cultural difference between Youtube and Twitch.

Viewership by Team Over Time

The viewership drop off after a team fails to reach Dodgebolt is a lot more severe this time, and you don't really see the two teams who did get to Dodgebolt get a boost either. Best guess is this is because MCCP21 was non-canon so nobody really cared who won the whole thing if their favorites didn't make it. Another observation: Pink Parrots has a much more severe dropoff during the Bird App Poll than everyone else. Unseen here is the viewership increase when Wilbur's fire alarm went off :(

Viewership Breakdown at Peak by Individual

So, not the most diverse viewership. The most watched person at peak in MCC14, Tommyinnit, only had 21.1% of total viewership. Even if you combine that percentage with the runner-up Dream's numbers, you only get 38.4% of viewership going to them. There is not a single team from MCC14 who captured nearly 57.5% of the viewership. The most they could do was 39.9% (Green Guardians). Absolutely insane degree of domination.

Top Five (Unrouned) 1. Technoblade (360.8k) 2. Wisp (82.2k) 3. Grian (45.5k) 4. ItsFunneh (44.9k) 5. Joey Graceffa (23.5k)

Bottom Five 26. Burren (78) 25. SeaPeeKay (333) 24. Spifey (403) 25. AyChristeneGames (498) 26. InTheLittleWood (521)

Wisp's numbers were so hugely different from last time (0.1% to 13.1%) that I actually sought out people who watched him to confirm he really had over 70k viewers. He did. This probably has to do with having fewer big names to compete with and being on a team with Tommy and Tubbo. Plus, he’s more familiar to the Minecraft community than Joey Graceffa, so fans of Tommy and Tubbo would be more likely to watch Wisp to see their faves. This isn't meant to belittle Wisp or to attribute his viewership entirely to Tommy or Tubbo; MCC is an unfair measurement of the usual popularity of a creator.

Viewership Breakdown at Peak by Team vs Survey Data

The predicted viewership graph was generated using data from a poll I ran on Tumblr and a poll run by u/Epic_Ninja_Dude123 on r/MinecraftChampionship.

Difference from predicted counts (Pred. % vs Actu. %) Lime Llamas: +9.1% (7.8% vs 16.9%) Green Guardians: +6.3% (0.9% vs 7.2%) Purple Pandas: -6.3% (6.7% vs 0.4%) Orange Ocelots: -5.1% (5.5% vs 0.4%) Red Rabbits: -4.1% (6.2% vs 2.1%) Blue Bats: -1.9% (2.5% vs 0.6%) Aqua Axolotls: +1.3% (2.5% vs 3.8%) Pink Parrots: +0.9% (64.5% vs 65.4%) Yellow Yaks: +0.5% (0.0% vs 0.5%) Cyan Creepers: -0.3% (3.2% vs 2.9%)

Standard Dev. for MCC14: 10.22 Standard Dev. for MCCP21: 2.89

Thrilled by these statistics!! The MCC14 survey had nearly triple the sample size (862) as this combined survey, but still ended up closer to actual counts. Real life proof of what they tell you in stats classes! A representative sample is the best kind of sample to have. Something I did not consider when using the survey for MCC14 is its source, a blog on Tumblr that talks heavily about Technoblade and Philza, which obviously biased the audience who took it towards the Pink Parrots (Philza, Fundy, Wilbur, JackManifold). Not a surprise we did better this time but really neat to see logic in action! lol

Another interesting thing about the survey: Reddit and Tumblr do vary a little in taste. It's easier to just show you:

What's missing? I chose not to calculate average/median viewership for the creators involved due to the large gap in data. It wouldn't be correct most likely.

So, how did you do this and how did you mess it up?

(I, the writer of this post, mostly do the analysis part of this project, not the programming. Apologies if any programmers are reading this and it doesn't make sense. :[ )

Our initial plan was do do just what we did to collect the MCC14 data but for YouTube instead of Twtich. (For MCC14 we used a Python program to request the viewership data directly from Twitch using their API.) This was much easier said than done. Unlike the Twitch API, which allows you to get stream information very easily just using a streamer's name, YouTube API doesn't have a "front door" way of getting this stuff. So, we went in the "back door."

First thing we had to do was manually collect the user ID for each participant. The next step is where the first error occurred: we needed to get our program to recognize the user ID as a user ID, which was done by writing a rule. This was stuff like how long the IDs were and what symbols were included in the IDs. We failed to include a symbol that was present in five of the participant's user IDs, so the program didn't recognize them as IDs and didn't run them through the part of the program which found the stream ID and collected viewer numbers. This is why that data was missing for SMajor/Noxcrew, ItsFunneh, Squaishey, ASFJerome, and Mefs in the first 30 minutes.

Another big way in which the YouTube API differs from the Twitch API is that YouTube has a quota system. Every action you can take with the API has a certain number of points connected to it, and you're only given so many points to spend a day per application. We thought we were only making one call to get viewer data for every streamer, but instead we were making a separate call for each streamer. That destroyed our quota pretty quick, resulting in the 45 minute gap in data collection. This problem was solved by moving our code into another application which granted us more quota.

This is an important lesson in testing your programs thoroughly before use!

On the bright side, the YouTube API is much more active than the Twitch API, which would update streamer numbers seemingly at random and not all at once. The YouTube API updated numbers roughly every 15 seconds and updated for all streamers, not just a few. That's why our graphs are higher resolution this time!

Here is the raw numbers: Click me!

Let's talk about next time

SO. Obviously this time around was not super ideal, which is partially on us for not testing more. (At least this was not the only scuffed thing about MCCP21. We were just being on brand, if you think about it.) However! Good news! The quota won't be a problem next time as MCC15 won't be Youtube exclusive.   We have already fixed the YouTube program we used this time around and have begun to merge the two. We might even be able to collect YouTube subscribers and Twitch followers by next time but we're focusing on making sure we get all the data next time.

Thank you all so much for reading! Again, any and all critique and questions are welcome! :]