#LISTEN HERE YALL THIS FIC MAKES ME FUCKIN CRY I LOVE IT SO MUCH

[chansooficrecs]

Life Will Write The Words

title: Life Will Write The Words

author: jumpthisship

pairing: Chanyeol/Kyungsoo

word count: 17.4k

rating: pg-13

genre: angst, romance

warnings: mentions of violence, gangs

summary: High School AU. Kyungsoo would do just about anything to get Chanyeol, his neighbour and childhood best friend, to stop acting out and doing dumb, illegal shit. But it would be a lot easier if he knew any of the right words to say, and if he didn’t feel like everything is partially his fault.

- Admin Daichi

[pitaparka]

don’t you wish

request: ur writing is so good i love ur fics :’) can u do a confessing feelings kiss with jj summary: jj is really upset you’re going to college. you hold him before you go. pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.4k warnings: sadness, fluff, reader getting ready for college a/n: this was really sweet to write. thank you for the request! keep em coming yall! Slowly but surely i will get to them all :) big love.

You didn’t want to chase him. He was being dramatic.

It would have been so much easier to let him go. To let him storm off.

But having that be the last time you see him before going off to college for the rest of the year? Not happening.

“Jay,” you call out, chasing him out the back door to John B.’s place. He wouldn’t care if you two were there when he was at work.

“Just fuck off. Go get ready.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” you say, and he stops.

“If you didn’t want to leave, you wouldn’t. You obviously want to go.”

“I have to go to college. What am I gonna do if I stay here? Mow lawns for kooks for the rest of my life, JJ—”

“The fuck is wrong with that? That’s probably what’s gonna happen to me! So what’s so bad about that—”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“What’s so bad about staying together, huh? What’s so bad about being with your friends?”

“We’re teenagers, JJ! Do you really think…” You shouldn’t say what you’re thinking, not out loud.

“Think what?

You avoid his gaze. He’s fuming, hard lips and flared nostrils and really, really red ears.

“You think we’re gonna stay together for the rest of our lives, JJ?” You whisper.

You look up at him with sad eyes.

He shakes his head, a sad grin on his face.

“Wow. Alright. Tell me how you really feel—”

“No, you know what I’m saying,” you say, stepping closer to him.

“If you’re saying that you don’t think we could make it, you don’t think we could be friends for the rest of our lives just because you’re moving away to your fancy college, yeah. I do know what you’re saying. And I—I don’t fucking agree.”

“Don’t do this, JJ…”

Your shoulders feel heavy. There’s a knot in your stomach.

“Fuck, don’t you get it?”

“Obviously not, JJ! So why don’t you just tell me about it, instead of—”

“—You’re all I fucking have! I love you! Okay?” He turns from you with fervor and runs his hands through his hair before bringing them to rest on his hips, letting out a sigh and bringing eyes to the sky like he was asking for a reason this all was happening.

“JJ,” you say softly, “you know I love you too.”

He lets out a humorless laugh.

“And you know we can’t, because of—”

“—No pogue on pogue, right, and I don’t want to be the one who messes this up, because I fuckin’ mess everything up! God, dammit!”

You don’t know what to say. He’s so frustrated he collides his foot with a tree, bark flaking off the old oak, with it’s long curly limbs, having been around since you became friends. You used to climb that tree all the time, sit under that tree, sheltering yourselves from the hundred degree weather, talking about how you would build a tree-house with your own bare hands, just the five of you—The Pogues.

How your heart aches for a simpler time, where summer meant tubes of flavored ice and endless cartoons and learning to swim under the hot North Carolinian sun. Where summer didn’t mean you packing up your things and applying to colleges and trying to spend time with your friends who were always busy with jobs or scholarships, supporting themselves full time at sixteen years old. It hurt. Your face stings with unshed tears and you don’t want this to be the last time you see JJ. The last memory you make with him before you go off to some fancy college up North and never come back to the Outer Banks.

You come up from behind him and wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his back. He doesn’t know whether to pull away or lean into it, so he tenses up under your touch.

“You’re the one I go to, man…” he whimpers.

You hold him a little bit tighter.

“You… you help me out. You’re the one who… what am I gonna do without you?”

You two listen to the birds in the trees and feel the warmth of each other.

You pull away after a minute, and your eyes dart around the place before you meet him. His eyes are glossy and dangerously full.

“I don’t want you to leave us,” he mumbles, and his face scrunches up like he’s trying not to cry, but a single perfect tear runs down his cheek. He goes to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but you beat him to it.

He sniffs loudly, hands by his side as you caress his cheeks with your thumbs, wiping away tears and as soon as his eyes become too intense, the sadness there palpable in the atmosphere, you rest your forehead on his cheek, and he cries.

You can’t help but plant soft, inaudible kisses to his face, where the tears are. You bury your nose into his neck and feel your own tears, hot on your cheeks, soak into his shirt.

You pull back to rest your forehead against his, and he leans into you, making it easier.

But he keeps leaning in. And keeps leaning in. Until there’s nowhere else to go, but you don’t really want to be anywhere else and his lips are so close and he smells like honey and boy cologne and mint so you close your eyes and kiss him.

His lips are salty from the tears, but there are nerves in your lips you’ve never felt before. JJ cups your face and you cup his and he’s crying and you’re crying and you never want the kiss to end.

There’s pressure and warmth and butterflies that are landing and taking off in your stomach because this is JJ, your JJ, the same JJ you grew up with and teased and cried to and laughed with. The boy you love more than anything. The boy you would do anything for.

You wish you could preserve the memory of kissing JJ, his skin wet and lips raw from all the biting he does to them.

It’s hard to pull away from him, knowing it would be the last time. You rest your head on his shoulder and he holds you tighter than he’s ever held you before in his life. Harder than the time you broke your arm riding his bike. Harder than the first time his dad hit him. Harder than when you came back from your first vacation away from him. Harder than the time you had your first breakup. Harder than the time you found out you had gotten into the college of your dreams.

You count down from 10 in your head, and when you reach zero, it’s over. He lets out a shaky breath and wipes the remaining tears from his face before he shoves his hands into his pockets.

You both smile sadly, you down at his shoes, but he’s smiling at you, his eyes glossy. He wants to never forget this moment between you two. He can only hope you’ll come back for him, come back for your childhood friends. Your home. Your boys (and girl).

“I guess this is it,” he says, finally.

You try to look him in the eye, but you notice something.

There’s a single eyelash on his cheek.

“Wait,” you say, and pick it up for him.

“Make a wish,” you encourage, holding it in front of his face.

He looks between you and the eyelash.

Usually he doesn’t believe in that type of thing.

Though instead of his usual protest, he surprises you.

He closes his eyes, and makes his wish, blowing the eyelash off your thumb.

He opens his eyes, smiling.

“D’you know... do you want to know what I wished for?” He asks. He pulls you into his chest and tears start to well up in your eyes again.

“No,” you laugh, sniffling, “Then it won’t come true, dummy.”

“I don’t care if it comes true or not… I know it’s going to come true.”

“I don’t want to know your wish!” You cry into his shoulder. You feel him shudder with laughter.

He traces patterns on your back, his head resting on your shoulder, his ear pressed up against yours, his clean shaven face pressing into your jaw.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, JJ.”

[wildernessuntothemselves]

i feel so BETRAYED obv you didnt promise me anything…

BUT CMON PREGNANCY??? YALL DIDNT SEE THAT GIRL ON TIK TOK WITH HER 200+ REASONS TO NOT BE PREGNANT. SERIOUSLY.

(/j) BUT IM STILL VERY MUCH ANTI PREGNANCY

i also forgot i was alive for a hot min but I’m back and have things to say🤌🏻

sooo everyone wished for soft non-con and i get your point but 👀 nobody know the chemistry rough non-con can have … not in a romantic way but in the we get to know how FAR a character will go and how fucked up they truly are to hurt their love

maybe im trippin 🤥 but i was team rough non-con for this ch. although if the others want soft i cannot blame them

ill freak out reading it either way 💅🏻 #choppingoffgyusdick

and lord soobin??? okayyyyyy

us dressing like a whore??? GIRL- FUCKIN -BOSSING

and everyone talking abt loser lover ending???

i read that fic a bit ago and it fucking BROKE me, i think i read the whole thing abt 3 times (not within a week or anything) i just came back to it and it broke me EVERY time

i was sobbing the first time and staring blankly at my wall the second time… tryna process everything. like the things they did to each other and especially that last ch. where reader fucks gyu and streams it literally killed me

i was so disappointed in their behavior and so emotionally invested srsly it broke my heart when you described beomgyu curling into himself… or the way he didnt want any of it but did it still for reader all the comments of the viewers… like it was written so well it truly hurt me😭🤌🏻 AND I READ IT AGAIN???? LIKE DO I HATE MYSELF WHY???

or the fact reader has to leave soobin, or the time soobin noticed reader being more invested in gyu than in him :(((( it made me want to give soobin ALL THE ATTENTION he deserved

or that one time where reader was like saying how gyu is only her toy and should act like it and instead of being a brat gyu just allowed it like he was actually broken and did everything for her to keep him… or the way she described him like a dog or her pet on stream

GOD THE EMOTIONS, I READ IT A WHILE AGO BUT ITS STILL AAAAA IT STILL KILLS ME TO THINK ABT IT

ill probably be just as sad abt yamqn but your writing is hella good and idk being invested in the story and feeling the characters feelings is kinda the goal isnt it

im excited where we are going to go with yamqn but im also a bit scared ill cry my eyes out again😭😭😭🤌🏻

- ❄️

listen i'm the biggest pregnancy anti out there and i live in an arab country where marrying and having a child is considered an absolute must in life but i've already managed to beat down my parents into giving up on me ever having a child so i get it lmao but again if the pregnancy is important to the plot of a story i'm writing then that's what i'm gonna do lmao

offf i keep going back and forth on the noncon thing even after most everyone said they want it soft because i feel like there is a lot of emotion involved in that scene and gyu is hella stressed and upset and he might not have the capacity to be soft in that instance but at the same time he doesn't want to hurt her and he is in a sick way happy to have her ahhh it's so complicated

the way you're describing lover loser makes ME wanna read it again lmao i'm just addicted to broken gyu

and the ending for this fic will probably be just as heartwrenching as the lover lover ending 😭 but we love pain here

[221bshrlocked]

He Who Desires (3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2533

Warnings: mention of violence. some graphic description of blood? slight flirting. an annoyed Bucky

A/N: The next part will definitely be the last part. I hope yall enjoyed this little extra mini series as much as I did writing it. I’m trying to get back to the other mini series I have so I’m, again, just getting out all the shitty writing so I could reserve the good writing for the other fics/ideas.

Previous Part | Next Part

Slowly, your eyes managed to flutter open enough to look at your surroundings, your mind already attempting to process the last thing you remembered before you blacked out.

Club. Bucky. Ryan. 

Fucking Ryan.

“Oh good you’re awake.” You heard someone speak from behind you, heavy steps making their way around until the man himself stood in front of you. Before you could ask anything, a heavy palm sounded across your cheek and you felt pain shoot through your neck from how hard your head fell.

“Tsk tsk tsk, not a word out of you. Wait till the boss herself hears who we have. It’ll be Christmas soon babe, you just gotta wait here.” Ryan massaged the palm of his hand before walking out of the room, leaving you cold and confused with two guards stationed at the door.

Meanwhile, Bucky was already on his way to the warehouse, refusing to wait until Steve and Natasha came to him. Sending them the GPS signal, he raced through the dark freeway up the mountain. If only he hadn’t looked away for that one second. He looked down for the hundredth time and tried to think of anything but them torturing you, most likely because of a stupid mistake he committed. 

Your mind ran a million miles a minute, trying to figure out where you and Bucky went wrong. Surely you didn’t make a mistake and there was no way in hell Bucky did either. Suddenly, the metal doors opened and in walked Ryan along with another woman behind him. 

“I didn’t believe it when they told me. You were always the best of us, never one to make a mistake, never one to miss a detail, not one to be easily distracted. Then again, I guess you can get distracted after all, considering you’re in this mess because of him. If only he kept his hands to himself, this little baby wouldn’t have been visible.” You shivered when the cool edge of the knife touched your shoulder and your blood began to boil. 

“Should’ve known you were behind this.” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you should’ve. I thought you’d figured it out by now but this little piggy got dumber with time.” You screamed and threw your head back when you felt the knife dig into your shoulder where your brand used to be. You felt her hands pull on your hair until your neck was bent at an ungodly angle. 

“This could’ve been yours as well. But you just had to go and grow a conscience.” 

“At least one of us grew a brain and saw how fucked up they treated us. Come on Delilah, you couldn’t possibly think it was always going to be sunshine and daisies with them did you?” You growled when she dug the knife deeper into your skin, already feeling numbness take over your entire left side.

“Baby, I could have given you sunshine and daisies. But you chose them over me.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. I chose myself over you.” You spat at her face and didn’t give her the benefit of knowing how much pain you were in. You were about to say something when you heard the distant sound of gunshots ring through the warehouse, smiling because you already knew who it was. 

But the relief was taken away instantly when you felt your shoulder dislocated by two hands, screaming and crying when the pain just kept getting worse. Delilah took hold of your chair and dragged you to the wall, telling her men to stand in front of her before holding a knife to your throat. Tears stained your shirt and you slowly started to lose consciousness, snapping towards the metal doors when you heard a loud thud coming after another.

Within seconds, the doors were slammed across the wall, and you smiled when you saw Bucky furiously step through the pile of dead bodies. 

“You better watch your next moves Sergeant or this little piggy is dead meat.” 

“You’re going to wish you thought this through  sweetheart.” Before Bucky finished that sentence, seven shots broke through the surrounding windows, leaving Bucky, Delilah and yourself the only ones alive.

You could feel her hands shaking and you wished you were awake enough to see what transpired next. As soon as she opened her mouth, Bucky didn’t think twice, throwing his knife your way and watching as it hit Delilah’s throat. He was in front of you within seconds, already trying to get your attention so you didn’t faint.

“Y/N, doll, you with me?” Bucky wiped the hair away from you face to take a better look at you, his heart shattering when he saw how faint you looked

“Y-yeah Buck.”

“This is gonna hurt love but I gotta do it to control the bleeding. On three okay?”

“Ahuhaa.” You whispered and watched as he frantically held your shoulder.

“One-” You bite your shirt when he pushed your shoulder back in its place, crying in pain when he wrapped his belt around your entire upper body to stop the bleeding.

“You said on three you asshole,” you said through sobs and Bucky was torn between laughing at your attempt at humor and watching as you cried while he did nothing to help you. Shifting his weight, he picked you up and apologized again when you asked him to slow down. He kept on talking to you and shook you a bit when you took a longer time to respond. But it was so much harder to stay awake and at some point, before you knew it, your head was falling back, and the last thing you heard were Bucky’s desperate attempts to keep you conscious as he ran to the quinjet.

                                                          ~~~~~

Shifting around, you brought your hand to your head and groaned when you felt pain shoot through your back to your upper arm, slowly opening your eyes and looking down to see what was happening.

“Hey, hey doll,” you looked up and saw Bucky standing from his chair, leaning down and cupping your cheek. You smiled up at him and leaned into his metal hand, finding comfort in the cool sensation against your skin. 

“Hi Buck, w-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse and you noticed the way Bucky frowned at your weak state.

“You passed out on me Y/N, nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack when you did. They uhhh, they took you into surgery. Nothing too dangerous, they just needed to make sure the bones were aligned and back in place before stitching your muscles.” Bucky sat near you, making sure you were comfortable before grabbing your hand and kissing it. 

“Doll, I’m sorry but I gotta ask, what happened? D-did they do anything?”

“Besides nearly tearing my shoulder out, no. You came just in time as a matter of fact.” You tried to laugh but Bucky was in no way okay with this.

“Who was she?”

“Oh man, I- before my time at Shield, I was part of this...underground clan for lack of a better word. It wasn’t too different from The Red Room except they had a different approach to training and making sure you were recognized everywhere.” You pointed to your shoulder and saw Bucky’s expression change when he saw the scar. 

“Delilah and I were friends, or I thought we were, until I realized she was the reason I was constantly chosen for the rather intense training sessions, like a guinea pig, to illustrate what was asked of us. She loved those sessions, especially when I was the one being tested. She’s capable of so much more Buck and that’s why I cannot be thankful enough for you coming at that time.” Bucky was attentive to everything you said and hated that you went through something like this but he knew he needed to continue asking, unable to bring Steve in to question you.

“Doll, what was this clan called?” “Buck, I can’t. I just can’t. If you knew what I did, what I was a part of...I- I can’t have you looking away from me.” Tears ran down your cheeks and you looked up when you saw Bucky wiping them away aggressively before making you look at him.

“Baby listen to me. There is nothing on this earth that will make me feel any differently about you. You know what I’ve done and yet you’re here. With me. Just trust me darlin’, please. That’s all I’m asking you to do, trust me.”

“Besa Avlonya, they were originally Romanian but by the time I joined, they were mostly Albanian.” You looked down and saw Bucky sending a quick text to Steve before standing up. Thinking he was leaving, your heart rate elevated and Bucky turned to the EKG machine, immediately sitting down and taking your hand in his.

“I ain’t goin nowhere Y/N alright. I know how much you hate hospitals and I’m gettin’ you outta here. You said you trust me right?” He waited until you nodded before getting up to call the nurse.

Thirty minutes later, you were slowly standing up to get dressed. You were about to raise your arm when Bucky asked you to wait. 

“Doll, let me call a nurse to help you out.”

“No. Just no.” You made sure he knew this wasn’t to be discussed but he continued to ask anyway. 

“Please babe it’s okay, she’ll just-”

“You do it then.” 

Whatever Bucky thought you were going to say, that was definitely not it.

“Y/N I can’t, it’s not-”

“You’ve already seen me in lingerie Barnes you might as well. What’s the difference?” You raised an eyebrow at his obvious distress.

“I ain’t takin’ advantage of you darlin’.”

“You aren’t taking advantage if I don’t mind you seeing me like this.” Your voice didn’t waver when you said it, wanting to make Bucky understand that you meant it. Without exchanging any more words, Bucky slowly walked towards you, asking silently if he could undo your gown and you rolled your eyes at him before turning around. 

Gently, you felt his fingers undoing the back of the gown before it dropped to the floor and you felt him move away to grab your shirt. When he turned around, Bucky’s breath caught in his throat because he didn’t expect you to turn around as well. His jaw clenched and you could tell he was annoyed by your obvious comfort with him, finding it very hard to keep his eyes on your face and not on your bare torso. 

Speaking of hard, he suddenly felt his jeans getting tighter by the second and he had you to thank for that.

“God fucking damn it Y/N.” Bucky whispered before approaching you and shoving your shirt down your neck before taking his time with your arm. Before you could say anything, Bucky was kneeling down and grabbing your leg to put through your jeans, taking his time so you wouldn’t trip or feel anything in your shoulder. When you were fully dressed, Bucky stood in your space, breathing down on you before grabbing your neck and pulling you to his lips. You wound your arm around him, moaning in annoyance when he pushed away almost immediately.

“As much as I want this, I know how quickly things will escalate with you.” Bucky grabbed your things before opening the door for you.

“Maybe I want things to escalate.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me Y/N.”

“Is that a suggestion or an order Sergeant?” As soon as you called him by his rank, you heard the metal plates shift, smiling to yourself because you could tell he was both angry and turned on.

“Fucking hell.” Bucky whispered before walking ahead, leaving you amused and happy at how things turned out.

By the time you got back to the compound, you had managed to get on Bucky’s last nerve. Between briefing and dinner, Bucky was, in every sense of the word, done with your teasing and he left without bothering to say good night. You had spoken to Steve and Natasha and told them what happened at the warehouse, trying to give them any information that could potentially help them in finding out more about the secret clan. When you finished and saw Bucky had already left, you decided to go to Bucky’s room, hoping he wouldn’t turn you away because you teased him a little too much.

Reluctantly standing at his door, you were about to knock when it suddenly opened, revealing a still-angry Bucky.

“What do you want?” Bucky practically growled at you and you realized you may have taken it a bit far. When he saw you standing there, slightly afraid of opening your mouth, he held the door open to let you in. You walked in and looked around, noticing that this was probably the first time you’ve ever seen his place.

“I- ummm, didn’t mean to. No that’s not what I want to say. I’m...god this is stupid, I shouldn’t have come.” You tried to walk towards the door but found Bucky blocking it, watching as he slowly shut it before approaching you.

“What do you want Y/N?” Bucky asked again, this time more patiently than earlier.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” You avoided looking at him, shaking your head when you watched him walk away to his bedroom. He stopped at the end of the hallway before motioning for you.

“Well, aren’t you comin’ doll?” Bucky smiled when he saw your expression shift to a rather giddy one, watching as you skidded towards him before walking in to his room. Taking your shoes and socks off, you looked around and realized you didn’t change into your pajamas.

“Here, take this. “ Bucky handed you one of his shirts and saw you just look at it.

“J-James, I still can’t wear it but I don’t want to ask you because then you’ll think that I’m bothering you again and that’s the last thing I want to do considering what you’ve done for me in the last twenty-four hours but I honest to god can’t put this on by myself and I just-”

“Jesus Christ you talk too much.” Bucky shook his head before throwing his shirt on the bed, kneeling down to take each leg out of your pants before shutting his eyes and helping you out of your shirt. He quickly put his own shirt through your arms before walking to the other end of the room to shut off the lights. 

You sat down and watched his every move, your heart almost skipping a beat when he took his shirt off and laid down on the other side of the mattress.

“I run hot Y/N and I’d rather neither of us wake up sweating.” He heard your little snort and narrowed his eyes at you before whispering something in Russian, motioning for you to lay do so he could cover the two of you.

“Let me know if I hurt you!” Bucky whispered before scooting closer to you and laying his arm across your body.

“Sweet dreams doll.”

“Night James.” 

[quitetommy]

i didn’t mean it

yeet freakin yeet!!! my angsty peter fic i told yall about!!!! almost 2K words!! quite possibly one of the longest ones ive ever done. so listen this whole thing is literally a trigger warning. there is an incident of “physical abuse” (using quotes bc its like not rly but like it is but like idk just read it and youll know what i mean) but stay warned and stay safe babes!!!

It felt like they were talking in circles. The young couple had this conversation over and over and over again. They talked and argued until they were blue in the face. And unfortunately this night was no different. Upon making her way into the small one bedroom loft, she let out a breath and moved to slam the door shut behind her. Unfortunately, her lovely boyfriend caught it before it was able to slam against the frame. The superhero sighed too, he slowly pushed the door shut, locking it. When he turned back around, his girlfriend was sitting on the small, dirty couch they owned. Her head was in her hands and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He had made her feel this way. He was the cause for this. It was always his fault.

He moved to sit in front of her, on the floor. The brunet placed his hands on her thighs. He was hoping it was an endearing gesture, but as soon as he did she jumped up from her seat. She put as much distance between her and the boy. She was acting like he had burned her with a simple touch to her legs.

Another skip to his heart.

Y/N had her hands in her hair, she was pacing around, heavy breaths leaving her small mouth. She was angry, furious, even. That’s when Peter decided to say something.

“Y/N, I-” His voice stopped short when she turned around on her heal. Her eyes held so much rage; an emotion that had never been in her eyes when looking at Peter Parker. Until now that is.

She threw her hands out, tired and exasperated, “Peter, I. . . “ She paused, shaking her head, “I can’t even look at you right now.”

The tired girl rubbed her eyes, sighing again. “Peter, you’re being ridiculous and controlling and jealous. I’m getting tired of it!”

Peter stood up, fists clenching. He was getting upset too. No longer was he the sweet boy that was going to apologize. No, now he was just as angry.

“What?” His voice was scary calm and she felt her blood run cold; He had never spoken to her like that before- the boy continued on, ignoring the skip in her heartbeat, “What did you just say?”

Y/N took in the sight of the upset boy in front of her. His eyes were wide and irate, his face had begun to turn red with fury, and his fists were clenched so tightly that she was worried he might break a finger or two. Ignoring this, and her better judgement, she countered his raging words.

“You heard me!” she yelled, in the back of her mind she was thinking about their neighbors and how they might get a noise complaint if they kept this up. “I never once said anything about you and Liz! Or you and Gwen! Or even you and MJ! Why is this any different?!”

Peter laughed. He actually laughed, and Y/N was actually questioning if he had lost his mind. And then she decided that he had when he spoke, “Because your my girlfriend! You should know better!”

Y/N laughed too, she placed her hands in her hair, pulling hard. Her body was so full of rage and hurt and every other emotion but happiness and love that she was shaking. She had never been so angry with the pretty boy before her. “What?! Know better than what?! What did i do that was so fucking bad, Peter?”

“Flirting!” It was one word. One word and the angry woman wanted to punch something, yell something, break something, through something. Anything. She was so fucking angry and she had never felt like this with Peter. Their fights were never this bad.

Peter yet again ignored the way her heart hitched when he yelled, instead he watched as she dropped her hands, laughing bitterly. “Fuckin’ hell, Peter. Flirting. What a fucking joke.”

She continued to shake her head at him, “I can’t with you anymore. Fuck.” The pretty girl threw her hands out, shrugging, tears were now at her eyes, ready to spill over. She wasn’t sad, no, she was angry. So, so, so fucking angry.

The small apartment was silent, no words were passed between the fighting lovebirds. That was until a sob was released from her mouth, an ugly gut wrenching breath following. Peter took a step forward, only for Y/N to take a few steps back. She was almost against the wall, trying to place some distance between the two. Peter was hurt, angry, sad. Maybe that’s why it happened. Maybe that’s why his emotions got the best of him. The following events happened so fast neither knew what was happening until it was too late for anything to happen.

Y/N nodded at the boy in front of her, “Never once have I ever questioned you about all the girls you’ve been with.” Her voice was soft at first, like she was testing out what she wanted to say and how it was to come off her tongue. Then she started to get louder with each word until she was yelling again. “Never have I ever doubted you! Ever!! And here you fucking come- with your insecurities and your fucking ‘i own you’ shit! Actin’ like you fuckin’ own the place! News flash, Peter Parker, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Tears were streaming down her face as she yelled. “And for your information, I never flirted with anyone other than you! Unlike you, you’re always off bein’ all lovey with MJ and I never fuckin’ said anything!” She paused to take a breath, but then jumped right back into it, all of her anger from the past months coming out now. “Never said a fucking word. Not when you stood me up for her, not when you constantly talk about ‘er, not even when you have your fuckin’ heart eyes for her! Not even when people ask me how long you two have been together. You love her, Peter and I never-”

And before they knew it, Y/N was pushed up against the wall, a grunt leaving her parted lips, and Peter pressing one hand against her throat and the other on the wall next to her head. He was seeing red, red hot anger filling his usually cool veins. He punched the wall next to her, yelling out. The drywall easily cracked underneath his powerful hand. The pretty girl who was once yelling at her boyfriend in anger was now crying, fear in her eyes. That was when Peter finally spoke, “‘M not in fucking love with her. Don’t fuckin’ say that!” For a moment, just a moment, he had forgotten where he was. He had forgotten that he was talking to his adorably fragile girlfriend and not some insane criminal.

The spell was broken a few seconds later for Peter when his gorgeous girl grunted out, winded, “P-Peter, I can’t breathe.”

It was like he was seeing for the first time. His head was finally clear and there was no more hate in his heart. Now he was feeling regret and sadness and fear. When he realised what he had done, he immediately let go. He skidded back a few feet, trying to put as much room between them as he could. His heart shattered when he saw how Y/N reached up to place a soft hand on her burning throat.

Tears fell from Peter’s eyes as he watched the heartbreaking scene in front of him. His breath was choppy and fast, “Y/N, I-I-I didn’t- I’m so sorry!” He was shaking his head rapidly, breath now not coming to him. It was like they had switched- it was like he was the one with the vice on his throat, tightening until all his precious air was gone, never to return.

He watched through watery eyes how his girlfriend stepped closer to him, hands stretched out and mouth moving, forming words he couldn’t hear. “N-No! Don’t come near me!”

When she didn’t listen and stepped closer he stepped backwards. This only caused her to try again, this time she was able to reach out and touch him. This, however, sent him across the room and out the front door, leaving his wondering girlfriend in the quiet apartment.

Hours and many tears later, Y/N was in their shared bed, unfortunately alone. She had tried calling Peter ever since he left, but every time it went to voicemail and quite honestly, Y/N was starting to grow worried. Of course she didn’t blame the loving boy. She knew he didn’t mean it, she was just as angry and she could’ve easily done the same to him. She just really hoped he was alright.

It was another hour before the familiar sound of the lock twisting and then the door opening was heard through the loft. She didn’t move though, instead she stayed in their bed, her back facing the door. She wanted to see what he was going to do; she didn’t want to scare him off again.

Peter’s heavy footsteps made their way to the shared room, slowly. They stopped at the doorway, before a small sound of shuffle was made and then she felt him kneel down next to the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breath even, hoping that Peter thought she was asleep. Fortunately for her, he believed that she was. The sleepy girl felt Peter hesitantly put his hand on her arm. At first his fingertips just barely touched her, but then his whole hand came down, softly. She heard him sniff and then she felt his head on the bed.

This was when she decided to ‘wake up’. Opening her eyes and turning, she asked in her best sleepy voice, “Peter?” Her voice was like a waking call for him and he quickly ripped away his hand, hugging it close to his chest, and fell back onto his butt. His eyes were bloodshot from crying and he felt like absolute shit. “Peter, hey. I was so worried. Where-”

“Stop.” His voice was soft, scratchy. He was so sorry. He wanted to take the whole day back. He wanted to go back to this morning when it was just Y/N and him in their bed alone and happy. None of this bullshit. He was afraid that she was going to leave him.

She said his name again, “Peter.” This time sadly, tears in her voice, “Pete, please.” She reached out for him, her hand just barely coming in contact with his skin. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I-I hurt you.” He cried. She shook her head pushing herself up on her arms. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t. I’m so sorry, darling, I didn’t mean it.” He cried out again, tears spilling. Y/N pulled herself up and out of the bed and then over to him. She wrapped her arms around the sobbing boy. He just kept saying how he didn’t mean it over and over. It was like that was the only thing he knew how to say. Her hands came up to his curls and she pushed them away from his face, kissing his hairline. She nodded, “I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.” and that was when he pulled her close, saying it again, just for the both of them to hear it, “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.”

Taglist; @spider-bitten @bi-writer-in-the-dark @marvelouspottering @quacksin @friendscallme-emily @smexylemony @tom-hollands-eyelash @tomblrholland @spidey-pal @lovelyh0lland @spideymood @positiveparker @laureharrier @procrastinatingparker @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @Bodakcello @sleepybesson @spideyshcllands @its-the-unknownspidey @tomshufflepuff @aestheticgaybish

crossed out means i couldnt tag ya

[bleepblopbloop56]

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 4: Puzzle Peices

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, ao3

Warnings; blood, death, language, bit of crying, nothing too bad yet

As ALWAYS with this fic the wonderdul lovley beautiful person @pathos-logical did all the editing and 90% of the work. Go love her

((HI I FORGOT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY SO ITS ONE DAY LATE AND IM S O R R Y ))

One more thing before we get started, butnif yall ever wanna come into my askbox and just yell at me about this im so fuckin down for that! Or DM me and yell? Oh it gives me life.

((Reblogs with comments are very very VERY appreciated by the way))

-----

Officers swarmed the apartment just as they had swarmed the theater only days before. Roman was now being shoved into the spotlight by the press, and worse, being deemed suspect number one by every detective on the case. Well… almost every detective. 

"Victim showed obvious signs of a struggle," Remy started, and Logan thought back to the bruise on Roman's stomach, the one his fingertips had grazed over not long ago. He should say something. He didn't. "'Valuable' belongings, if you could call them that, are all in place, and his wallet still has cash, plus one expired credit card. It doesn't look like a robbery," Remy drawled on, circling the body like he belonged with the vultures lining up outside. "And based on… this-" he leaned down and lifted the mask off Remus, exposing his features- "it looks like you were right about our murderer." 

Not only was Remus's corpse adorned with a gold theater mask like the one that Thomas had been left with, it seemed a Joker-esque frown had been carved into Remus' mouth

"It doesn't make sense. I mean, an upper class actor from the nice part of town, and an unemployed man from the bad… What's the relation?" Logan voiced his thoughts, trying to push down the sick feeling that arose upon seeing a photo of Remus and Roman as children covered in the splattered blood. 

"Logan, you know the the relation…" Remus said quietly, eyes softening even as his voice hardened. "You really think it's a random coincidence that Roman moved to town and then both of his roommates were found dead by Roman?” His tone was harsh, but Logan could hear the underlying message. You’re not stupid, Logan, don't do this. Logan shook his head and stepped out into the hallway.

"Roman was with me all night," he admitted. "He has an alibi."

"Unless he fucking killed this guy and then went out and got you tipsy," Remy argued, but his eyes looked more pleading than accusatory. Logan's stomach twisted, and it took effort not to visibly wince. 

"You didn't see him when he found Remus," Logan said flatly. He had heard the scream all the way from the car. When he ran in, Roman had backed himself into a wall, screaming and crying harder than Logan had ever seen anyone cry. Breathing exercises could only go so far when you were five feet away from a dead body…

Logan had been forced to cover Roman's eyes and drag him out of the place to get him to calm down, and even then he'd shaken like a leaf until the ambulance showed up and he'd been treated for shock. 

"Logan I think you're too close to the case." Remy gently placed a hand on Logan's shoulder, but Logan jerked it away.

"How do you know Roman is a suspect and not a victim?" he snapped. "What evidence do you have that says he murdered these people? People he loved and was close to? Why would he wear Remus' clothing because it was too emotionally taxing to move his clothes out of Thomas' house? Why would he leave the bodies and evidence out lying around instead of disposing of them? This is a direct attack towards him, not by him, Remy." Logan was distantly aware his ranting was earning him more than a few confused stares by some of the other officers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Someone is out there killing people, and you're accusing an innocent victim based on one piece of evidence." Logan walked out of the building, leaving Remy alone at the scene before he could point out that that one piece was all they had.

_____

"Alright, first of all!" Remy slammed open the door of Logan's office, where Logan had been poring over case files for the past hour. "You don't just do that, okay? You don't just fuckin leave a scene like that and make me hitch a fuckin UBER back, okay? Do you know how sketchy that sounded?" Remy slammed his coffee down and threw off his satchel. "Hey bitch, come pick me up at this crime scene swarming with investigators, sorry my partner dumped my ass and took the car!" He demonstrated talking to the driver over his phone before dropping his hands and staring at Logan with his patented "are you fucking kidding me" face. 

"I apologize, Remington," Logan said tiredly. He set down his pen to give the appearance of giving Remy his full attention, but his mind was a hundred miles away.

"Don't fucking 'Remington' me!" was what Logan got for his efforts. He might have been Logan's inferior, but he sure as hell didn't act like it. "Listen, I get it. You're in love with your ex, who could be a murderer for all we know, and you're super pissed at me for telling you you're being unprofessional for the first time in your life. But that doesn't excuse any of this shit, alright?" Dropping all pretense, Logan dropped his head onto the desk, ready for Remy to shut the fuck up and get out of his office. 

"People. Are. Fucking. Dying. Logan," he growled, voice getting louder with each word. "So how bout you get off your ass and get your shit together!"

There was a beat of silence.

"Okay that's it, I'm done, end of rant." Remy dropped into the chair, going from furious to calm so suddenly it felt like he'd flipped a switch 

"Are you finished?" Logan deadpanned, rubbing his temple. Remy sucked on his straw, nodding silently and kicking his legs up in Logan's desk. Logan took a deep breath, straightening up and picking up his pen again.  "Good. Now can we get to work?" 

______

When Logan picked up Patton from daycare, it took everything in his power not to start sobbing. His baby was here, safe in his arms and alive. His profession wasn't one that exactly supported having kids, and it definitely wasn't one that made it easy to drop off his kid to a stranger and say "here, watch this while I'm gone."

Patton, for his part, didn't notice anything was wrong at first and just enjoyed the extra snuggle time with his dad. Instead of laying Patton down in the baby bed like he usually did for nap time at home, Logan had set him down in his own bed next to him, just wanting to hold Patton as close as possible. 

"Dada?" Patton didn't know many words, but he knew that one well, and it was Logan's favorite. Despite everything, he smiled on reflex, but his expression turned to one of alarm when Patton's bottom lip started to quiver. Patton pressed his little hands into Logan's cheeks, and with a start, Logan realized he'd been crying.

"No- I'm alright, Patton, Dada's alright, please don't cry," he shushed. He sat up slightly and bouncing Patton on his lap in an attempt to calm him down. When Patton's face began to screw up, he said again, slightly more desperately, "Shhh, look, Dada's fine-" But Patton wasn't stupid. He began to wail loudly, upset not only that he missing nap time but that his dad was crying. 

"Is everything okay in here?" Virgil asked, poking his head into the bedroom at the commotion. He was met with the sight of a bawling Patton and a completely overwhelmed Logan looking like he was heading the same way. Virgil wasted no time in walking in and taking Patton from Logan.

"You need a break, man," Virgil said over the crying. His eyes lit up as he was struck by an idea. "Hey, why don't you call your brother? Patton loves that doctor dude."

Logan shoved his head in his hands, trying to keep his breathing even. For a second he wanted to insist he was fine, he could handle this- but then he flinched when Patton's cries got even louder, and he could only sigh and nod. 

Doctor Emile Picani had always loved children. He’d always wanted kids of his own, but the one man he loved more than anything had passed away right after their second anniversary. Emile still wore his ring. So when his phone rang and he was met with his brother practically begging him to take Patton for a few days, he was more than happy to oblige. He was at the house the very next day to take Patton away for him.

"Thank you so much for doing this," Logan sighed, handing over the baby to Emile. Patton bounced and smiled at him, happily wrapping his arms around him the best he could. The night before, Logan had sat down Patton and explained he'd be going to have a playdate with Uncle Emile for a few days. He wasn't entirely certain Patton had understood any of it, but he looked happy enough in his uncle's arms.

Logan gave Patton a small kiss on the forehead before Emile left, straightening out his bright yellow sunflower dress in Emile's hands. (Patton had picked it out himself in the store, and who was Logan to say no to him?)

"Bye bye!" Patton waved enthusiastically, smiling at Logan as he got strapped into his carseat. 

"I love you, Patton," he smiled back, trying to pull up genuine cheer for him. He knew that sending Patton away for a day or two would be good for Logan, would let him grieve and mourn in private, but god was it hard sending his baby away. 

Virgil was waiting for him when he dragged himself away from the car and back into the apartment. 

"How ya holdin' up?" he asked gently, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Logan collapsed forward into his shoulder, despite the considerable height difference. It was sloppy and unprofessional, but it was also long overdue.

"Hey, hey, hey- dude, it's okay," Virgil tried, running a hand through Logan's hair. Logan's glasses were stabbing at Virgil's shoulder through his pajama shirt, and Logan had to be uncomfortable too. But Virgil wasn't going to mention that now. He just stayed standing as his friend heaved and sobbed, clutching at his shirt and desperately looking for comfort.

It was in moments like these that Virgil remembered Logan really was still just a kid. He might be a detective and act all mature and have a kid, but he was still just twenty-seven. He didn't really have his life together yet- because who the hell did in their twenties? And he had just lost his best friend, and now was the first time he'd let himself honestly cry. 

"Logan, it's okay," Virgil tried again when Logan's sobs had quieted to sniffles. But he only got a soft "Is it?" in return. 

----

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality @nonbeenary-enbee @imbasicallyshakespear @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @incoherentfangirl @oofmood

[edelwary]

when you were first getting into art, what and how did you draw? (like did you just doodle ur masterpieces on pieces of paper and posted-notes or did you have a proper sketchbook) how did you find motivation? bc ive been trying to draw but I always get unmotivated and stop while still wanting to get better just by doing nothing.

REALLY LONG, LOTS OF ADVICES FOR ARTISTS : 

TL;DR ; skip to the HOW TO ACTUALLY FUCKING DRAW part bc i have a megaton of shit to say lol + The MOTIVATION part 

mmh… I’ll get into details with this one tbh bc it’s a long ass process ahah : 

I live by the sea ; when i was youung i used to draw TONS of boat, but like, dollhouse boats, you could see the insides and stuff ; i loved to add tiny details and stuff, and imbricate everything together !

around 8 or 9 yo, i went to the public library with school and discovered the wonderful world of mangas ! I basically… Copy pasted an entire Mermaid Melody tome x) 

For about 2 years i alternated between reading mangas and trying to copy them ! Then i just kept drawing in the margins of my schoolwork for about… 5 years ! I have a Fuck Ton of sketchbooks of that time, it was… The start. Lol. Never say it’s bad because it’s never bad, just not there yet !!

Around my 13 yo, i went every saturday, for two years, under a bookstore ; there was a cave, and drawing classes ; that teacher was mean and harsh and stuff, but like… Not really. He would take away my eraser for the class, force me to use pencil, to draw something else (bulky boys instead of magical girls). 

I’ve learned a lot, more in terms of How To LEARN to draw than to draw itself, but i still progressed a LOT !! 

Then i kept drawing by myself for a year and i really worked hard on it ; about hours a day, trying watercolors and stuff ; i have a real problem with colors in traditionnal art, but i’m much better with lines (i should scan some RAD stuff i made in the weekend, yall ive never done anything this good i stg i dont know why i always forget im so much better on paper) 

This gets us to my sweet 16 ; i have to year of advance, bc i got ‘’’promoted’’’ idk how to say it ; anyways, i entered my (current) animation school for the first year at 16; vERY IMPRESSIVE AND TERRIFYING. 

And i learned. A fuckmegaton. Of shit there. 

Now i’m going for my third year there and i can make photorealistic marmora blades and cyberkpunk decors if i want to and that’s rad, but here is

 HOW TO ACTUALLY FUCKING DRAW : 

I have one HYPER important advice, and i’m keeping it to heart since i’m like, 11 : Have. Sketchbooks. Please !!! It’s very important. Here’s why : 

You keep everything with you in one place. You have 1 sketchbook, it’s basically easy to take every where (a A5, or A4 are pretty easy to carry, i have like, 12 of those, and around 8 of A3) 

You keep track of what you’ve done. It’s super important, bc first you can cry of laughter at your old stuff bc its cute but not so good, and second, you can just be like ‘holy mama’ and see how much you’ve improved

It’s very important to be organized. I WORK in art, and trust me, if there’s something that i’ve learned this year through tears and missing files and bugs : Be. Impeccable. Now if it’s for fun, go a little loose, and just have a folder for art on your computer, and a sketchbook, no need to stress, but the better you try to keep a record of where is what, the better you’ll see whats wrong

Notebooks are friends !! You can draw, write, glue stuff, make notes, lists, everything !!! I have my life in those. It’s more important to me than any of my phones. 

Be proud of it. Like, not everything, duh ! But try to tell yourself than it’s like a RPG ; even if it’s only 2 xp here and there, one day you’ll beat level 40, and that’s super important : art is. Fuckin. Long.

I cant stress it enough. It’s soooo long !!! SO LONG !! it’s years. It’s like karate and fishing and ANYTHING. To be good at it, it takes time, but it WILL COME if you keep trying. There’s no secret passage. 

You’re gonna me it, believe in me who believes in you. 

Use. References. 

Coming from a little shit who’s got a really good visual memory, that can sound like bs, but i stg everything is always AT LEAST twice as good if you’ve used a visual support. 

I’m not saying COPY EVRYTHING (even though thats a good training) I’m saying, if you really want to do that asian tiger, please have at least two or three pictures of it nearby. Take photos of your hands, and stuff ! 

Make it harder. 

No eraser. 

Paint. 

I draw all my backgrounds on my sketchbook with INDIAN INK; no returns, no refunds. 

Ink, Ink, INK !! Don’t allow mistakes.

And if you make mistakes :

New page, restart

It’s okay

It’s for you

I once started back again a whole EXAM bc it was bad, i got one of my best grades 

You’ll improve and be more assured if you know you just have to DO IT. Trust me. It’s VISIBLE; if you can erase, you fidget and hesitate and ‘’kbeujebez hahhaaa idkkidsd’’ ; stop ; do it, and if you don’t like it ? Try again, there’s no time limit

Draw as large as you can 

There’s no interesting story here, it just helps. Bigger movement of the hand, more place for details, breathing lines

Thin lineart helps

Thinner. Make it even thinner

Break the rules, but not the ones that structure your art 

Big lineart ? Why not

Unfinished lines, vaporeous colors ? Pretty

Cubism is actually based on extensive and intense practice of classical art, it’s not wibbly wooblly ; the anatomy is more correct than you think 

Structure and composition are important, but so is movement and life ; choose your fighter ; mine is fluidity and fun, i’m like, a rogue/archer in drawing. Some people are dwarf fighter. That’s amazing and great. 

Don’t be afraid to do nothing

Pages and pages of my sketchbooks are actually just lance facing right and smiling, you know… 

Sometimes it just doesnt work : two ways :

Take a break, Kiki’s delivery service style

Keep trying, break your art until it obeys and comes back

Take breaks. Breath. 

Don’t compare. I do it, it doesn’t help at all. You’ll make it ; and if you compare, keep in mind that everyone’s different

I’m not gonna lie, it’s NOT easy, it’s even hard 

But I really, really think it’s worth it 

MOTIVATION :

My main bitch 

I’m always pumped for art because i can LITTERALLY NOT do anything else ; i love reading and writing and stuff but at the end of the day i just want !!! to draw !!!! aaaaaa-

Fall in love with it, and with the possibilities ; i have stories to tell, tell me yours ! Do your best, one day it WILL work

Actual advices : 

I have an inspiration blog where i just reblogs stuff i like to draw them later

Find a picture, copy it. Do it again. Change the characters (i have 2 ocs and Lance and Keith as default characters) in the pic. 

Like an artstyle ? Break it to its very core, analyse it, copy it, redo it, trace it and ABSORB it. Don’t copy/past, LEARN from your heroes.

Do what you like. I have 86578 pieces of voltron, this is not a coincidence. I have ENDLESS ideas for this show, wtf. 

Try new things. Buy indian ink im begging you. It’s so cool. 

Have a game with yourself, or a challenge. STICK TO IT. 

Study. When you’re bored, usually it’s because you’re stagnating. Make it harder or do hands until you cry. 

Love your backgrounds; make backgrounds, study trees, and tokyo streets, and venice’s bridges. Decor is just as cool as characters, if not more

Mess a little with everything. My roomate more than one found me stained from head to toes trying to DO STUFF 

Draw outfits. Draw what you want but can’t afford 

MAKE YOUR LIFE A COMIC. Remember those sketchbooks ? Make a comic a week/month/every full moon, whatever, and draw your life (mine’s the roomates au lol) 

Prompts blogs are cool too 

Make fanart of a fic you liked ; you have the characters and the pose already, you just have to illustrate ; double bonus, you probably will make a writer’s day, if not year !

That little movie that plays when you listen to your favorite song ? DRAW IT

Your favorite scene in your favorite movie ? Redraw each shot. On post it. Plus it looks awesome afterwards to have the infamous TREX scene of Jurassic Parks in post it

Get bored. That’s inevitable. Dance, scream, get back to it. Walk, draw everything you see. 

Make a paper google map street view : Take a walk : every 50 meters, draw what is in front of you. 

Snapchats your friends. Draw their snapchats when they answer 

Draw maps. Invent places. Invent bikes, and hovercrafts, and monsters. Make your everyday inventory. Make your life a video game, and do the concept arts of it. 

FETCH your inspiration. I have approx. 20 artbooks, full of drawings and concept arts of my fave movies/games ; take what you like and add it to the story you have since you’re 8. We all have one. 

Ask for it ; your sis, your mom, me even ! If you dont have ideas, someone will have them. 

WELL i’m gonna stop there, even though i got like, 9864567 more to say, but with this you should be fine ! Anon, i’m rooting for you ! we all start somewhere, just hold on!!!!