#my writing is there i can open the word files but i can't find where they are stored

[writer-logbook]

5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons

Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.

Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.

Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.

Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)

Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.

Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.

I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.

Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.

Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.

Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)

Pros: it's simple to implement.

Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).

Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.

Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.

Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.

I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.

Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.

[billythesimp]

Hello, writer! Sorry to bother you. I really like your "x reader" works, they are amazing.. I really can't even find the words to describe my admiration.

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) Anyway, I have an idea. Can I request Anton and Lycaon (separately) with short reader? (preferably male, but gender neutral is also ok!) Reader has no physical strength , he is the "Brain of the team", and therefore in dangerous moments he need to be protected.

If you don't like the request, then feel free to skip it! Take care of yourself, don't forget to rest :"3

[Grasping my chest while gritting my teeth, a faint pink on my skin]

I got a compliment- I fucken love you- 💞💞💖💖

[Is proceeded to get bonked with a shoe, an annoyed Bangboo staring at their sibling human in disbelief]

Ahem- thank you very much! hell works hard but ZZZ writers work faster.

Short Stuff

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

Man, I love Anton. If I could I would marry him. So this can seem a little goof, goofy writing since I try to distinct the boys and the reader from time to time, hopefully it's to your liking!

Anton / Lycaon x Short-Male!Reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none?

✦ Being short has its pros, especially in the Hollows as you're usually a smaller target and can sneak around easier. Which is convenient since they’re not the strongest of the bunch, only really having enough to get them by the heavy lifting that is rarely called upon them to deal with. Really, he works in finances and research on the construction site, being another pair of eyes for Koleda to call upon should she need more supervision on their projects, how Anton caught their attention was beyond their understanding. Yet, Anton is always seeking them out personally before dragging them along into his little crew.

✦ Because of this, he loves to use them as an armrest for his arm or sometimes; his bro. Of course if you're a friend of Anton, you're a friend of his bro, and so far his bro really likes him, always roaring at the sight of him whenever they go out to find them. From the looks of it, he is ok with Anton’s bro, though there have been times where Anton’s bro has at least jumpscared him from behind when sneaking up on them. They both got a good scolding from him. 

✦ As mentioned before, he does go into the hollows with the crew from time to time, mainly as an observer and informant. They aren’t the strongest and so they can’t really help out a lot unless it’s along the lines of carrying files or pushing storage carts around. If Anton is ever with them, best believe that any heavy lifting is his work, never letting his ‘bro’ carry anything as he doesn’t want them to strain their muscles. Really it’s an excuse to be of help to them and have a casual conversation; As if they don’t do that enough. But combat- no, they aren’t fit for those kind of situations. 

✦ Hence when a sudden ethereal attack happens on the crew on site, everyone is at alarm before running for safety. At that moment, he’s not able to escape in time before getting trapped between cargo and boxes of shipment, tucked behind it as they hear the eerie distorted growls of the creatures lurking around the corners. But the roar of a powerful hand drill cuts through the air as Anton leaps into the fight, yelling for him to run to safety with a clear opening. Moving along in a hurry, the two regroup with the workers as another group is dispatched to clear the site once again so they could return to work. That is after everyone is taken back for a health inspection.

✦ Anton is by his side the entire time as they recount what resources were destroyed, workers on the roster and whatnot to Koleda, sticking to his side incase they suddenly feel faint after being exposed to ethereals at that close range. While he’s convinced it’s cuz he wants to make sure his bro is alright, in reality he was worried when he spotted them in the attack and leaped into action to protect them. Losing him would be like losing his bro, someone he cared dearly for. He would make sure he was safe no matter what, because that’s how much he meant to him.

✦ Working with Lycaon is like working with someone of equal stature. If you had to pick who the leading figures of Victorian Housekeeping are, they’d say you and Lycaon. The both of you work diligently with every commission and assignment, like clockwork with how they’re able to move in sync. Should Lycaon need someone to relay information regarding any subject, he’d turn to him. In a similar fashion, should you need someone to deal with our reconsense or transferring larger packages and items, Lycaon is more than willing to lead his strength.

✦ Admittedly, Lycaon has offered to help him grow some more muscle here and there, as well as develop a suitable fighting style. The times the two had gone to a gym to practice, Lycaon can’t help but put his hands on them. Of course, he’s only lending a hand in guiding them through their practices, but seeing how small and slim they are in some areas, he could only wonder if he’s taking good care of himself. This only leads him to wonder if he should monitor their diet as well to ensure they are getting the right amount of nutrients. 

✦ When Von needs help with anything, he’ll always go to them as he is confidence in their ability to complete any task with perfection. And anytime he thanks them or even praises Lycaon for a job well-done, he can’t help but twitch his ears and fluff up his tail a little out of pride. Lycaon makes an effort to help all his workers, as a boss it’s only right to look after them, however Rina has teased him for picking favorites. It’s not his fault you ask him for his height when they needed something on the top shelf. He swore those plates were never that high up. 

✦ Within the hollows should they dare venture in, he works more in the back as support. Comming any details within the area and alerting the group of any potential dangers. Also a technical genius, they are in charge of any computers and machinery, though Lycaon stands close by should anything go awry. He looms over them, sometimes asking them about how they are processing it or updating them on their surroundings. Should anything come up, he’d always request they take cover ‘just case’ before swiftly dealing with the issue. 

✦ The way he pulls them behind him, Lycaon will work like a monster to keep him safe. The thought of their smaller figure curled up beneath the enemy only motivating him to stay close and keep them in his line of sight. Von will not be having any close calls with his staff, let alone him. Every instance they enter a new layer of the hollow or step into a new room, he’ll always reach behind him to feel for their smaller hands, only satisfied once he can feel them trailing right behind him.

[http-shield]

daisies, i think- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: angst, budding friendship and romance, set in CA:CW timeline where Bucky is in Romania trying to piece back together his life, mixed POV ~ wc: 1.2k ~ not proofread

premise: ex-avengers employee, you have moved to Europe in order to get away from all things Shield. It is in Romania that you bump into a familiar man, a face you have only seen in the secret files you managed to get a glance at. You befriend the ghost of a man, determined to help him undo all the bad the world has done to him.

"You like Jasmine, right?" Bucky asks from across the small coffee table. 

"Uh, yeah. How did you-?" You grin at him, eyes squinting in apprehension at the sudden declaration. 

"I can remember some things," he answers and returns to the bowl of steaming noodles. "Not everything, but some things." the clarification comes a moment later. 

It's been two months since you moved into the small apartment on the outskirts of Bucharest. Two months of living in close quarters with Bucky, two months of getting to know him on a level you never thought you would. Two months. 

You clear your throat and ask. "What kind do you like?"

"Daisies. I think." He doesn't look up from his bowl, but you can see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I saw them a lot while…"

Still unsure of how to refer to the period when he wasn't himself. "They grow everywhere, so I can always find them, and they're nice to look at." 

The noodles sit abandoned in front of you now. Your attention has shifted wholly onto James, who continues to eat despite disclosing something that shattered your heart. He never stopped being that young boy who was lost, never stopped looking for life in the depths of hell, never stopped being Bucky. 

"You gonna write that in your book?" 

The question catches you off guard. 

"You have that little book you write in. I thought it was a diary but you only write in after I tell you something. Plus I saw my name a bunch’a times”

Your cheeks flush. 

"Is it bad stuff?" Bucky looks up now, blue eyes broken and defeated. 

"No! Nothing bad!" You rush to answer, scrambling for the book you tucked under the table and flip it open to your latest entry. "It's all good things, actually. Stuff that you like or remember or stories you tell me." 

Bucky's posture relaxes, shoulders sagging a little at the assurance you weren't keeping tabs on his slip-ups. 

You continue, opening to a page filled with drawings of stars and planets.  "This is when you told me that you went to the Stark expo before you shipped off and how you wished you could see space one day." you point to the stars that adorn the margin. "That's why there are little stars. I've been writing it all down so that if one day you need to remember something and we aren't together, I can give you the book, and you'll have all your memories." 

The heat in your cheeks deepens as you confess your reasoning behind the notetaking. 

"Steve, your umm…"

"I know Steve," Bucky confirms with a slight smile. 

"Steve has a book just like this with all the things he missed or wants to remember, so I copied him." it feels infantile using the word copied, but you can't think of anything better. "You can have it now if you want?'

"You leavin' me?" The sadness returns for a split second.

"No." your answer is firm. 

Light floods his blue eyes, shimmering like the sun on the ocean. "Then keep it. I'll take it when you finish it."

There's hope in his words. Determination that he will remember who he was and who he hopes to be. You find yourself smiling at that, admiring how much he is trying and how you can see yourself finishing this book and starting another.

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

"Do you think we should get some curtains?" your proposal has Bucky pausing in the kitchen, boiling water sloshing in the small pot he had just pulled from the stove.

He looks to the windows, plastered with newspapers to keep out prying eyes, and while he never thought about customising his apartment, your suggestion stirs something within him.

"If you want." the answer feels so domestic and ordinary that he forgets who and where he is. For a moment, he is no longer in a dingy apartment on the run and unstable in his own identity, but he is at home with you. He is in an apartment in Brooklyn, not far from where he grew up, in a small and cozy one-bedroom flat that he shares with you and your cat. You aren't the kind and strange girl who picked him up off the street like a stray, but you're so much more, someone he wishes he met in another life. He watches you frame the window with your fingers, face crinkled as you close one eye and determine the best shape and style of drapery for the space. His heart squeezes, a feeling wholly unfamiliar in his aching body.

"I can get some tomorrow after work?" another offer of complete and utter everyday ease. "Yellow? With daisies?"

Bucky grins at that.

"Or pink with jasmine?"

A small laugh escapes you, and you drop your hands. "One pink and one yellow?"

Bucky nods and returns to emptying that water from the pot, watching as the potatoes drop into the colander in the skin. He had offered to cook tonight, an easy recipe he had overheard while out today from two older ladies sitting in the square, their voices loud and bousitruous despite the sensitive nature of their conversation. The recipe was easy enough. Boil potatoes until soft, season them and cook them in the oven. Simple, easy. Perfect for his muddled mind to follow.

"Want help?" Your voice is closer, and Bucky jumps slightly. You reach out and grab his arm, hoping not to scare him further, but Bucky's heart starts in a race for an entirely different reason.

He gulps. "No need. thank you, ma'am." the words fall from his lips before his brain can form them.

"Ma'am?" you furrow your brows at him. "Where did that come from?"

Bucky turns to you, his face crinkled in confusion as he shakes his head. "I have no idea."

There is a beat of silence as you reach into your back pocket for the small book you had stuffed in there after your walk home. You open it to a blank page and date it to the top before writing your entry.

Calls people ma'am.

"Not people, women. " Bucky sighs as he reads over the edge of the paper. "Ladies, dames, girls."

"Dames?" laughter is building within you as he cites different words for women, most of which you hadn't heard outside of a movie from the forties.

You can't stop the laugh that spills from you, and soon, Bucky follows suit, enjoying how his stomach and shoulders feel as he laughs. It feels good, beyond good; its amazing, divine, marvelous, s'wonderful.

"You are a funny man, Bucky Barnes." You sigh as the laughter subsides, a hand sweeping over his shoulders. He notices how your fingers linger on the joint of his prosthetic arm, and for some reason, he doesn't feel as much guilt filling his stomach like lead. When they brush down his arms to entwine with his fingers, another sensation takes over his gut entirely. It's tingly and hot, twisting and sitting low in his body. He worries it's a bad feeling, familiar in a way that has his mind screaming, but there is no fear, no guilt, nothing but warmth like the sun on a winter's day, so he sits with it and lets you hold his hand until the timer on dinner dings.

a/n: apart of a bigger fic but this is sort of the first taste of it to see how I feel about writing/posting it.

[pinkkittysaw]

BUT I CAN’T STOP STARING IN THOSE EVIL EYES

title is based off a lyric in lady gaga’s MONSTER

my halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: plaga leon s. kennedy x plaga f!reader

summary: while wandering through an ill kept factory, you and leon grow closer in unimaginable ways due to unforeseen circumstances

word count: 5,648

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked!) minor dub-con (in the beginning), slightly rough leon, mind control, notes of voyuerism, fingering, male masturbation, boot humping, minor breast/nipple play, unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding, degradation, praise, petnames (baby, princess, sweetie) leon steps on you, reader is wearing a skirt

*some things to note: though saddler is willing leon and reader into having sex, they both want to sleep with each other of their own volition regardless of the plaga’s influence, it’s the circumstances surrounding it that makes them apprehensive

there are lines of dialogue from RE4R used in paragraphs 12, 14-15, 18, 23 & 39. i do not claim to own these lines or any media from Capcom

a/n: first time writing for leon so please be kind!!! i am just a simple mouse girl :( i thought it’d be interesting to write the plaga “overtaking” him and reader in a sense, watching his mood change drastically much like how it does in the OG RE 4 in this scene with ada (choking cw)

divider by @/benkeibear

You stare at the huge chunk of amber in front of you; it's pretty. The reflecting light gives it a soft orange hue, brightening the dull room it inhabits. After closer inspection, you notice what appears to be hundreds, if not thousands, of Las Plagas encased in the resin. You were almost too scared to be looking at them for so long, fearful that the parasites would jump out at you from their confinement once you crossed a certain threshold.

Cocking your head to the side, you think aloud, "I wonder if this is where they extract the plaga."

Leon, who's rummaging around the room looking for any spare supplies, pipes up, "Who knows? I certainly don't feel like waiting around to find out. Come on." He waves you over, walking toward the exit after determining that none of the scrap in the room was worth taking.

"Alright," you agree, beginning to move towards him.

Then, all of a sudden, your movements are halted, unable to continue forward. "Fuck, no no no,” you think to yourself. Leon looks behind his shoulder, noticing that you haven't moved from your position.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You can barely speak, clenching your teeth together as you force the words out.

"I can't fucking move." You demonstrate your lack of mobility as you attempt to force your body forward, but the most that happens is the slight twitching of your arm and legs.

"What?" Leon's about to stride over to you when the door opens behind him. He's quick on his feet, his gun in the air, aiming his pistol at the tall figure and a group of robed cultists that soon follow him into the room.

"Welcome, my children," he states as the two followers remove the hood of his purple robe, the rest filing around the two of you.

"I am Osmund Saddler. The speaker for our Lord."

Leon, obviously fed up with all the loony bullshit, shoots Saddler straight in the eye. "Tell someone who gives a shit."

Saddler reels back from the shot but doesn't die, staying hunched over due to the impact. "Foolish lambs," he scoffs. "Why do you deny grace?" The volume of his voice rises, and all at once, Leon keels over, taking a knee as he almost completely falls to the floor in front of you, now frozen in place while his gun falls from his hands.

You try to reach out to him, but your movements are stunted.

"Now, abandon your body." Your body is not your own.

"Obey, obey the voice of our lord," Saddler commands as your forced motions bring you closer to Leon. There's a ringing in your ears as he gives you orders; the noise is so piercing that you're ready to stuff your ears full of cotton just to make it stop.

Leon's now back on his feet, his veins turning black against his skin as his arm reaches out to you. His body trembles as he extends forward. You're compelled to move onward slowly, reaching down for Leon's pistol.

"Stop, please," you plead, your wrist swaying back and forth as the gun locks onto Leon. "No," you grit, resisting with everything you have while your arm continues to wobble. Tears stream down your face as you're forced to pull the trigger, shooting one of the cultists to Leon's side, watching them drop dead to the floor.

"Sweet child, do not resist." His commands turn into scolding. The ringing in your ears gets louder as your arm moves again. "Please," you wail into the open air, willing to give anything as long as it meant that he stayed alive. The trigger is pulled again, and the other masked figure drops to the ground.

Leon's face coils up, and his body jerks, trying to reach you, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as you pull the trigger for the final time, scrunching up your eyes, not wanting to witness his lifeless body drop to the floor. The gun clicks and falls in front of you while you collapse onto your knees, sobbing onto the floor beneath, your tears staining the dark concrete floors.

Leon is released from his own entrapment and rushes over to comfort you, placing both his hands on your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

It's funny, you think, in a twisted sort of way. You almost killed him, and here he was, asking if you were alright.

"Pray forgive these wicked sinners," Saddler exhales while shaking his head. Leon's about to lunge for his gun when you're both halted once more.

"Injecting one's blood with the plaga isn't the only way to diffuse it among the populous."

Both you and Leon are manipulated until you're standing in front of each other, his hand reaching out to grab at your hip.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not me, I-"

He gets cut off by Saddler. "The plaga can reproduce sexually as well as through implantation." And it's all of a sudden that you feel a certain heat growing inside you—desire, a sort of carnality—and if the crimson on Leon's cheeks is anything to go by, he's feeling it too. There's a certain glint in his eyes now, a hunger that wasn't there before. Both his and your irises turn a bright vermillion as the plaga fully takes control. It's overwhelming. All of your senses are heightened, now very much cognizant of Leon's hand on your hip, the warmth of his skin permeating through your skirt. All you want now is for him to bend you over and take you.

You shake your head in the hopes of clearing your mind. God, when did you start harboring such intense feelings for him like this? This can't be okay, can it? He saved your life. He's a government agent simply doing his job to rescue you from this hell hole. That's what these feelings are—just misplaced appreciation. You try to reason with yourself as the growing need between your legs calls more and more for your attention.

"What the hell's going on?" Your voice is harsh as it cuts through the air. Leon's grip tightens on your hip, almost as if he's holding himself back.

"Is it not obvious, sweet child? You two have perfect compatibility as sexual mates, and since you're both able to resist killing each other, I'll just have to change my line of thinking and make things easier for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Leon grunts.

"Why deny it? It's quite clear that you're attracted to each other."

"I barely even needed to coax the plaga into doing anything."

As fucked up as this entire situation was, Saddler wasn't wrong, at least in regard to your side of things. You were intrigued by Leon from the moment he found you, rescuing you after being hog-tied and thrown into one of the wardrobes of an abandoned cabin. He was still incredibly handsome, even if you didn't trust him at first. From the subtle bounce of his soft ashen hair when he jogged to the bulge of his biceps whenever he slicked his fingers through the silky strands and how he was so protective over you, so kind. You could go on and on listing the things you found attractive about him. How he looked suplexing zealots, the slope of his nose bridge, his little smirk after roundhousing ganados, the thickness of his thighs, the swell of his **very** defined chest, and god, his ass. His cute, full-pert ass that you could just-

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

This isn't right. You shouldn't be thinking of him this way, but no matter how much you try to resist, you're always coaxed back into these feelings of sensuality. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think of him fucking you against one of the crumbling walls in the village, holding you so tightly against him while he tugs on your tits. Arousal pools in your panties as heat rushes to your face at the thought.

"Fuck," you murmur, and Leon looks over at you, his breath more labored than before. 

"Submit your bodies and release yourself from fear!" Saddler booms, waving his staff around in the air. It's then that you feel Leon's hand underneath your skirt, cupping your mound through your tights, his other hand still gripping at your waist. 

"Leon-" you say exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he leans into you, inhaling your scent. "I'm sorry." His lips press into the side of your neck, slowly moving against the sensitive skin. It's so gentle and kind, and if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you're somewhere else, not in a dusty room of an old factory, being coerced to have sex through the means of a parasite.

"You're so soft...smell so good," he mumbles into your ear. Even if you're forced to fuck in front of Saddler and his devotees, Leon at least wants his words of care and fondness to be private—to be yours.

You can't help but moan out loud at his ministrations on your neck, feeling your skin crawl with a newfound heat. Your nipples pebble in your bra, and how desperately you want his hands to be on your breasts, kneading them. You wrap your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into the smooth, pale tresses at his nape.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he confesses over and over. He knows this is wrong. He should have a stronger will than this. He shouldn't be sleeping with the hostage he was tasked with saving. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, if at all. He probably wouldn't have confronted his feelings in any other circumstances, seeing how wildly inappropriate they were. He would've rather taken you somewhere nice—maybe a fancy hotel—and do all the sappy, romantic shit you deserve—the candles, the music, the mood lighting. It'd be sweet and kind, but no. Instead, you get this, being made to breed like cattle. The only comfort he can offer is through his words, his mind trying to fight against the plaga, but you smell too good, your skin so supple and warm against his mouth; it's almost as if he can feel the blood pulsing through your jugular vein. He gently grazes his teeth over the area, biting and pulling the skin taught.

"Don't apologize. You feel good too," you exhale, pushing your chest against his.

"I shouldn't let this sick bastard have so much control over me, but god, you feel so good against me," he groans, worming his hand under the band of your tights and underwear. You loll your head back as his assault on your neck continues. He sucks the skin gently as the worn leather of his gloves makes its presence known against your mound. His finger swipes between your slit, gathering the wetness leaking from your entrance to rub soft circles on your clit.

"Christ, you're already so wet for me, baby," he groans against your neck, your breath hitching at his words.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" An amused tilt now present in his voice, the soft circles on your clit continuing as he speaks against your throat. "You like me calling you baby?"

"Yeah," you mewl, your hand reaching down to grip his forearm.

"That's it. Just focus on me making you feel good." Your cute noises cause blood to rush to his cock, making it stiffen in his pants. Your head rests against his chest as he continues to play with you.

"You want my fingers, baby?"

"Yes," you pant, pressing your face into the middle of his chest. He lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his digit circling your entrance before sinking into your warm cunt. "Oooh, you're so tight, sweetie. Squeezing my finger real nice."

"I can't wait til you're on my cock." he mumbles against your throat once again, smirking. His finger curls deep into your soaked pussy, thrusting in and out as you grind against his palm.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasp, his lips resuming the suckling of your skin as he adds another finger, stuffing your cunt with their thickness, the leather of his gloves wet with your slick as it glides against your clit. You look down from his chest to see his hardened cock starting to poke through his utility pants. Your hand wriggling down to slowly palm him through the fabric, a soft moan rearing from his throat at your touch.

Through feeling him against your palm, he seems to be an impressive size, definitely girthy from what you can make out.

You slide your hand back and forth against the crotch of his pants, his hips lightly bucking into you as a grumbled "fuck" falls from his lips. He sounds so hot when he moans, and you want to hear more.

"I need you to come for me, sweetheart. I need your pussy on my cock so bad." He curls his fingers some more, hitting that soft, spongey spot that makes you see stars. A few more thrusts from his digits and nudges from his palm have you arching into him, his mouth swooping down to swallow your moans through a kiss. He's the only one that gets to hear you cum, despite the audience you both have.

He keeps his fingers stuffed in your cunt as you ride out your orgasm, the sensation of your pussy squeezing down on him making his head whirl in anticipation.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he murmurs, guiding you through the waves.

Despite having just came, you're still just as eager, if not more so, to palm him through his black cargos. 

"Easy, easy. You'll have me soon enough," he coos in an attempt to pacify you, removing your hand from his erection while you whine and grumble in response to the loss of touch, wanting him to mount you already.

He guides you onto the floor, laying you flat on the chilled concrete. The cold seeps into your clothes and skin, causing you to shiver almost uncomfortably so as you arch your back, spreading your legs as far as they'll go in your tight skirt. You take to palming your tits through your top, desperate for any kind of prolonged pleasure. 

"Someone's needy," he chuckles to himself while he looms over you, his broad shoulders casting a large shadow over your form.

"Come on, you'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" He moves to remove both of his belts, unbuckling them and letting them drop to the floor. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision to leave himself so exposed, but neither of you could be bothered enough to care.

The next thing to come off was his shoulder holster, the leather straps meeting the other discarded materials on the floor. It's only after his confines are removed that he begins pleasuring himself, reveling in your position on the floor, legs spread deliciously while the rest of you becomes utterly debauched, your expression filled with nothing other than need and want.

You whine out a little, desperate for his touch even after the fact. He smirks while walking toward you, his heavy boots echoing throughout the room with loud thuds til he stops just short of your cunt and sneers. Something about him is different. 

He plants his foot atop your mound, grinding the sole into your folds. There's no real force behind it, but it's oppressive and demeaning. He's not the same Leon. The Leon who told dumb jokes at every opportune moment, who ate multicolored herbs, both raw eggs and fish WHOLE, yet looked at you as if you were the crazy one for refusing, choosing not to believe him when he said they'd "mend your wounds." This was not the same Leon who pulled you aside after you ran off scared, giving you words of reassurance and encouragement just as he had throughout this whole endeavor. No, this Leon was more sinister.

Your whines and mewls get a little more pathetic, rolling your hips and grinding yourself on his boot in a desperate attempt for any friction that he'd give you—which wasn't much, but still, anything was better than nothing!

In the midst of your pouting, you catch Saddler's eye. His expression is blank, almost as if he were watching paint dry. His attendants were dismissed by this point, as they had no need to witness the impregnation take place. You can't help but stare at him, his eyes oddly captivating, unable to help but wonder what he thinks of this. Surely he’s the one controlling you both, but is this a last effort of sorts? Making two "subjects" fuck like rabbits just for the sake of spreading his message, his word, and his so-called "vision" Was sex something that he looked down on? Something shameful?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Leon whistles at you. "Would you rather fuck him instead, princess?" He jeers in a mocking tone. You frown and furrow your brows, glaring at him as you deliver a bratty "no" in response.

"Then keep your eyes on me, yeah?" He sneers as he grinds his heel into you some more, swiping his foot from side to side, knocking the grooves into your clit. He laughs as you continuously mewl into the air, squeezing your tits through your clothes, begging for more attention. Instead of aiding you in your frustrated disposition, he decides to be a little crueler, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. His head lolls back as he lets out a soft groan, the sound causing more arousal to flood in between your legs.

You moan, your eyes scanning his features—the bob of his Adam's apple, the softness of his jaw, the way his teeth dig into the plush of his bottom lip.

Deciding to prod further, he pulls out his leaking cock from his pants, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you at the sight. He has an adorable ash-blonde happy trail running down his navel that fans into darker, coarse curls at the base of his cock. It has a slight left curve to it and a pretty pink tip. The look of it is tantalizing and mouth-watering. Your mind is flooded with every memory you’ve had of wanting Leon to fuck you silly during this godforsaken nightmare. Now you have a visual to go along with your many fantasies—a pretty cock for an equally pretty man.

You expected him to be in a hurry to fuck you, but he does something unexpected. He keeps his foot on your cunt. You attempt to sit up, your abdomen contracting as you begin to move upward, when he plants his boot on your chest instead, right on your sternum, effectively pushing you flat on your back again.

"Did I give you permission to move?" He stares, cocking his head and quirking a brow, looking down at you as if he were scolding a misbehaving puppy. His carmine irises meet yours as you attempt to shove off his foot by his ankle, though soon finding it pointless as the boot remains firm and steady against you.

You shake your head with a petulant "no," grumbling as his foot takes hold of your chest, pressing lightly on your rib cage, making it somewhat difficult to breathe.

"Then don't get greedy," he chastises, moving his boot back to its previous position on your cunt, leaving a muddy footprint in its wake. Instead of providing you with the friction you wanted, his limb now lays idle against you.

You frown at the brown stain left on your top, glaring at him once more. "You ruined my shirt!"

"I'll tell you what: when this is all said and done, I'll get you a new top. How bout that princess?"

You roll your eyes, grumbling as his hand moves toward his mouth, yanking off his fingerless gloves with his teeth and tossing them among the pile of his other forgotten items.

Warm palms slither down his torso, making their way to his cock, where he squeezes the base, shaking it in the air a tad, teasing you with it.

It's well-known at this point how much you desire him. The plaga floods both of you with nothing but thoughts of you two fucking each other. He watches you eye his cock thoroughly, gnawing at your bottom lip with how badly you wanted him to fill you up.

He languidly begins to pump his hand up and down, precum leaking from his pretty tip all the way down his shaft, creating all the slip he needs. You start to buck your hips against his boot, desperate for your own pleasure, which he still refuses to give you. His hand continues to move along his cock; the rough callouses on his palm are a stark contrast to the glisten of his slick-covered dick.

You huff and puff as he continues to jerk off, growing tired of being teased and tormented. His thumb glides along the slit of his cock head, causing his hips to buck and shudder. You were like a rabbit on a treadmill, his cock being the carrot on the string you were being teased with, so close yet so far...

"Leon, you're being mean," you scowl, feeling grumpy and grouchy, tired of his damn games, your panties soaked through with your arousal, craving any sort of attention.

"Mean?" he asks, pressing his foot further into you, pumping himself a smidgen faster while his pectoral muscle begins to bounce with his quickened pace.

"If I were mean, I'd make you cum just like this while you watch me jack off."

"And since you want to act like such a little brat, maybe that's exactly what I'll do." He speeds up again, twirling his wrist as he fucks his fist, his grunts and groans filling the air among your whines.

"No, no, no, no," you cry, watching him buck into his hand as the slick makes his cock even more slippery.

A pink hue floods his cheeks as heat builds in his body, sweat gathering on the threads of his clothes.

"No?" he mocks with a feigned pout. "You want my cock that badly, huh? Want it to fill you up? Stuff you full?"

"Mhm," you nod incessantly, heat flooding your own face as well, the arousal so overwhelming that you feel as if you’ll burst.

"Why don't you beg for it? Beg for my cock."

You look at him apprehensively. Was he really gonna make you beg for him like a cock-hungry fool?

"I'm not joking about finishing you off with my boot. You'll get no dick and no cum." His efforts hastened, his hips twitching every so often. He’s serious, and so are you, so despite your "strong-willed bratty nature," you beg and you plead for his cock like a good girl.

"Please gimme your cock, Leon. Need it so bad. Need you to fuck me dumb; turn my brain into mush."

"I think you can do better than that princess," he smirks down at you, huffing slightly from the continued pleasure.

Your words turn into a slew of pleas and jumbled moans varying from saying you'll "die without his dick," "how badly you need it," and "how desperate you are for it," all of which boil down to you whining please over and over and over. When he's finally decided that you've made your case, he staves off his release, gripping the base of his cock so as not to finish right in his hand.

He drops to his knees, grabbing and pulling you towards him by your hips, your thighs settling on either side of his while he hovers over you. All his movements are quick and hasty in nature as he hikes up the bottom of your skirt over your pelvis, allowing you to spread your legs further and welcome him into the warmth between your thighs.

He stares down at your black tights below him, now transparent enough to see through to your pale-colored underwear from the fabric being stretched so far. He wastes no time in grabbing the crotch of your tights at the seam and effectively tearing a huge hole in them, his biceps bulging as he rips the fabric from your body. He stares down at the cute design of your panties as your tights lay in shreds against your leg, his eyes settling on the front of the fabric, the wet splotch soaking through from your previous orgasm.

He moves his hand over to your cunt, running his middle and ring fingers through your slit. He settles on your clit, rubbing the sticky fabric against you as he swirls the bundle of nerves in slow circles.

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm surprised that I held out as long as I did without fucking you."

"Leon," you groan. "No more… I wanna feel you, please," you mumble, reaching out to him as a final stand to get what you desperately crave.

He finally gives in, tugging down the waistband of his pants, landing on the swell of his thighs and below the curve of his ass, exposing the stretch marks that litter his hips and upper thighs.

"See something you like, princess?" he teases, pumping his cock a few times in preparation.

"Mhm, mhm," you nod eagerly as he begins to move toward you. Luckily, your panties are spared from his strength as he chooses to simply pull them aside instead of tearing them apart. He mumbles a grumbly "fuck" as he gets a look at your sweet cunt for the first time. The hair covering your mound shines as your arousal spreads throughout your folds. He doesn’t stop himself from running a finger in between the seam of your pussy, gathering the slick on the pad of his digit and sticking it in his mouth, groaning at the taste of your sweetness.

"Delicious," he mutters as he lays his cock against the warm heat of your sex, giving you a closer look at just how big he is.

He lines himself up at your entrance, and without so much as a warning, he thrusts into you down to the base. You arch into him, your breasts pressing into his chest as your back curves in his direction, a hearty moan coming from both of you. He stretches you out better than in your fantasies, your warm, wet walls clenching down on him as he twitches inside.

"Let's take care of this, yeah?" He asks, lifting your upper half into the air and placing you on your elbows. He lifts your top over the peak of your breasts, ogling the sight of your tits filling out your bra, trapped within their confinement, before he's reaching behind you to fumble with the clasp of the garment. A part of you is amused while watching him struggle, but it's not long after that the cups are falling from your body, your breasts free to Leon’s eyes and the open air as he pulls the straps down your shoulders, flinging the undergarment toward the pile of other forgotten items. He decides to keep your shirt on, enjoying the disheveled, fucked-out look you have with your clothes half on and half off, letting the top stay wrinkled above your tits.

"Perfect," he mumbles, moving his head toward your chest to mouth at it, planting open-mouth kisses along the swell of your breast as his hips begin to roll languidly. He gives you a few slow strokes, just to get acquainted with each other's bodies, before it quickly turns into a hurried fucking.

His hips knock into yours in quick succession, his girth smoothing over every ridge and groove in your tight cunt, leaving you panting into the air as he grunts and groans against your breast. His body pressed so tightly against yours.

His lips find your nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola before pulling the nub into his mouth. The roll of his hips and the suckling of your nipple add to your growing pleasure. You buck your hips in tandem with his, desperate to feel every bit of pleasure you can.

"So greedy, huh, princess? Just need your cute cunt, fucked huh? Anything goes as long as you feel good, right?"

You whine, clenching down on him, squeezing his cock tight as he fucks you thoroughly. He pulls away from your chest, grabbing your hips tight in his grasp, his fingers digging deep into your skin.

"God, you’re perfect for me," he mumbles, leaning back so he's standing straight on his knees, his hands pulling you down on his cock as he brutally thrusts back into you. "So perfect for me to breed." You swear you can see a glint in his eyes as he says that, and your pussy pulsates around him even more.

"You like that, huh?" he teases, punctuating every word in the sentence with a brutal thrust. "You like the thought of being all mine? being claimed by me? Me fucking my kids into you? Knocking you up?"

You mewl and wail, nodding and gasping and heaving; the only thing you care about at this moment is him fucking you full of his seed.

The snap of his hips continues to get quicker, your soft breasts bouncing so pretty as you lay beneath him, your worn and fucked-out expression giving him nothing but joy. His rhythm gets so quick that he manages to slip out of your vice-like grip, causing a low and extended whine to draw out from your lips. He chuckles, enjoying how desperate you are for his body, and leans himself into you once more while he guides his cock back into you, his thrusts regaining their previous speed.

His hand pushes one of your thighs toward your chest, rolling his hips deeper so he can more easily hit the spot that makes your eyes cross, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter as he fucks into you with more vigor. You can’t stop your hands from wandering as you grab the plush of his ass, squeezing the fat while you writhe underneath him. You pant into his mouth, trying to signal him for a kiss, to which he happily obliges, meeting your lips with his as he continues to drive you further and further to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, princess?"

"Gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?"

"Want it so bad, please?" You moan, sneaking your hand down to the front of your body and rubbing quick circles to your clit.

"Go ahead, princess, cum for me," he mumbles, nestling his head in the crux of your neck, sucking on your pulse point. As his hips continue to thrust into you, you arch intensely into him, moaning loudly as you reach your climax, your eyes rolling into the recesses of your mind as your nails claw into the meat of his ass, leaving pretty, red crescent-shaped divots in his porcelain skin.

You run your hand through his silky blonde strands as you position yourself next to his ear. "Cum with me, Leon," you mutter, still reeling from the aftereffects of your high, the additional thrusting adding to the lingering pleasure still felt. "Cum in me, please. Wanna be stuffed full of you." You lick a stripe up his neck, the salt from his sweat lingering on your tastebuds.

It's a few short and sloppy thrusts later that he's grunting loudly into your skin while he cums, ropes of his seed traveling to your womb.

The door can be heard shutting behind you as Saddler makes his exit, Leon's hips slowing to a full stop once he’s left. With the impregnation going through, he no longer needs to bother himself with whatever the two of you do from here on out.

It’s a few minutes later that the both of you begin to feel normal again, or as normal as you can be given the dire situation. It doesn’t take long for Leon to recover, his baby blues greeting you once more as he snaps to attention, getting himself situated as he puts on his gear and adjusts his clothes, keeping a watchful eye on you as you start to do the same, picking up your bra from his things on the floor.

After getting dressed, he’s immediately at your side. "I'm so sorry. I-"

You cut him off with a finger placed on his lips and a shake of your head. Your face is tired and weary, and your voice a little strained as you tell him, "It's alright."

He’s not willing to argue with you on the ethics of what went down, at least not here, so he decides to put off the conversation til you’re both safe back home, hopefully having figured out some sort of plan by then.

"Are you good enough to move? We shouldn't linger around."

You nod, moving to fully take off your tights before making your departure, seeing as you have no more use for the tattered fabric. The torn material catches his eye, causing embarrassment to rise throughout his face, his cheeks taking on the same rosy hue as before.

"I'll make good on my word, I promise. I’ll get you a new shirt and some tights when we get back. For now…"  He walks towards the exit. "We need to get rid of these damn things," he says, pointing to his chest. He checks his jammed gun, ejecting the magazine and resetting the casing before gesturing you over toward him, readying the weapon in front of him before the two of you begin to make your way out of the factory.

Needless to say, this would NOT be going in his incident report.

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!- Hello, I would like to request a love letter for Alhaitham. NSFW and Yandere response please, and any pet names work but if you could use Habib that would be great 💖 (I hope I did this right)

_______________________

"To my favorite feeble scholar,

I hope this letter is finding you well! I have arrived safely in Fontaine and haven't known a moment of peace since I have arrived. The chaotic cocktail of getting settled into a new city, preparing for this research project, and missing home makes me yearn for the simpler times spent in Sumeru.

Especially my time spent with you.

Thats enough of my lamenting, how fare things with you back home? Have you finally shaken the title of acting Grand Sage yet? Is Kaveh being too much of a "menace"? (Also, please let him know his mother says hello and sends her best wishes to you both). Regardless, I hope you are taking care yourself. Archons know I can't ensure you are eating well while I'm nations away. I will just have to trust that you are treating yourself with the same kindness I would extend to you.

On the topic of kindness, I have a gift for you attached to this letter. I know while I am here doing my research for the next six months we won't be able to have our usual meetings at Lambad's to discuss books over good food, but I hope these books will entertain you well during my absence.

I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can see you again. I find myself thinking of you often and it is a truly vexing experience to see you on whim like I would do so before. It makes the days seem to drag on even longer, but I pray time will fly by regardless of this.

-Sincerely, your wayward scholar

[In a simply decorated box, there are three books: one is on the topic on Fontaine's hydro transportation system and infrastructure, the second is about the complexities surrounding Fontaine's judicial system, and lastly is an infamous and popular erotica anthology from Fontaine (think the Karma sutra but French)]

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Alhaitham, Alhaitham calls you "habib", lightly implied abuse of power, unhealthy possessive and obsessive relationship from Alhaitham, mentions of sex toys, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: He tipped me extra and requested me to be extra careful with the delivery so I'll hand it over to you directly instead of leaving it at your door as per usual procedure! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

There’s a knock at your door when you’re relaxing in your room, opening it shows a hotel staff member who passes you a delivery. And it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s from your beloved feeble scholar.

Alhaitham sends you a simple package, nothing too gaudy or showy, just a few accents of turquoise to denote who the sender is. It’s secure and durable, perfect for weathering long and bumpy trips. 

When you open up the package, you find a few gifts he carefully arranged so that nothing would be broken if the contents were jostled around a little too hard. Gingerly, you lift out a lacquered box which reveals a set of headphones and a music player that’s almost identical to the one he owns. It rests in its cushioned groove in the box with the colours of the device matching your favourites instead of the shades of green on his set.

There’s a small note attached to the music player, “In case you ever miss me too much, you’ll have my voice as background noise for your moping, habib.” On the back of it, he’s written something akin to a track list. Flicking through the different audio files for a quick sample, you realise there’s one for every mood. Tracks with words of encouragement (...or as encouraging as someone like Alhaitham can get), ones scolding you for overworking. There’s even a really cute one where he softly hums a love song that both of you adore, his voice low and soothing. However, the best track of all might be the one where you get to hear his grunts and moans, as if he were right next to your ear in person. The sounds are so sinful and wet, you could just picture him grinding on his dildo, trying to reach his peak. And the way he pitifully breaths out a “I c-can’t cum witho- AH! -without you!” has you yearning for him yet again.

Taking the headphones off before you get too carried away, you retrieve his letter in the package. The envelope is the one from his Grand Sage office, not that he ever really uses them for work purposes. Inside it, his reply is written on parchment, the kind that’s provided for him due to his high position once again. His handwriting is as tidy as ever, the font and formatting standardised throughout the letter. His reply reads:

“Reply for: My springtime sublimity,

I was wondering when you were going to write back to me. After all, there’s no way you would’ve forgotten me in the midst of your research or from meeting someone new, right? Regardless, you have not left my mind since your departure and I’m sure it’s the same for you too habib. 

Do let me know if the gifts are to your liking. I’ve managed to recreate my headphones and they will definitely be useful in blocking out anyone else who might be getting on your nerves or when you’re trying to focus on your research. I included my latest read in the package as well. I'd like for us to discuss our thoughts on the book, even if it’ll have to be done over pen and paper. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on it.

There’s also no reason for me to answer whether I’ve managed to resign from my title as Grand Sage, as evident from the envelope and parchment used. I simply have an unfortunate one last thing to wrap up before I can do so.

Moving on, habib, you know Kaveh is always a menace. I relayed his mother’s well wishes to him earlier and he just smiled. Now he’s locked himself in his room. I never have any idea what’s in that mind of his. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t have to drag him out before he starves. Although I must ask, since when were you privy to Kaveh’s background? I don’t recall him bringing it up around us. Habib, just how close are you to him? How close has he gotten to you? Do write back to me and explain.

Now, this is where I must thank you for your gifts. They all have proven to be succinct and informative. However, I must comment on the choice of one of the books. My, I knew you were lewd before, but to send me an erotica anthology habib? Though, I never said I minded it. I am simply inspired, that's all. Perhaps, you should come back sooner and we can try some of the positions referenced in it. In the meantime, habib, I can only pleasure myself with toys, although, they’re nothing in comparison to you. I’m addicted to you, the caress of your hands on my skin, how only you can make me shudder and cry out your name. You have me wrapped around your finger.

I crave you desperately, habib. There are so many words I could use to describe you with my extensive vocabulary, but the most fitting one would be blossoming. You’ve managed to sow all these emotions in me and now that they’re blooming, you’ll take responsibility right? I’ve always been logical but the degree of affection I feel for you is irregular, all-encompassing and ever-growing. Almost as if you’re twisting the very essence of my mind, rotting and changing me from the inside out. It matches in a way, spring being the season of rebirth.

This letter has gotten too long, I will end it off here habib. I trust you will stay safe and return in one piece unharmed. I await your reply.

May your days be peaceful,

- Alhaitham -”

Setting his letter back in the package, you pick up the book he entrusted to you. Flipping through the pages, it’s littered with markings and annotations from the scribe, he even wrote some questions for you to ponder over. “What do you think about this point?” “Why would the author write this in?” But there are a few unrelated… unsettling annotations that you probably shouldn’t dwell on for too long such as, “Do you know just how much I miss you?” or “How were you able to corrupt my reason and rationality to this extent?” These annotations were left in here for a reason, Alhaitham is a smart man, a renowned member of the Haravatat. There’s a message behind his carefully selected words, waiting for you to unearth it before it festers and decays into something even worse.

Lastly, written neatly on the inside of the back cover, is a puzzling riddle, each word written in a different ancient script. After deciphering the question, an unpleasant awareness worms its way into your mind.

It reads, “Would you still extend your same kindness to me after realising what I would do for you?”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[kasagia]

The last time

Pairing: William "Billy" Russo x fem! reader Summary: You're done being the less important one. The one who always had to conform to the big asshole and playboy Mr. Billy Goddamn Russo. And this time you really promised yourself that it's over... but is it? Wairning(s): Billy is toxic, but he loves the reader; the reader loves Billy, but everyone is fucked up; fight; swearing; blood; the reader is a doctor; the reader and Billy argue, but both cannot live without each other; violence; weapon; Inspired by: Taylor Swift - The Last Time (Feat. Gary Lightbody) Nonsense from me: I'm so happy I was able to write this in this week. I hope you like it. 💙🖤 P.S. The next oneshot will be with Darkling (Would've, Could've, Should've), but I don't know when I'll be able to write it. 😅 Word count: 6,5k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

Find myself at your door Just like all those times before I'm not sure how I got there All roads, they lead me here

When you opened the door, you didn't expect that instead of finding the pizza delivery guy, you would find Billy Russo... or rather, what was left of him.

The hood over his head and his slightly lowered head were unable to hide the scars on his face. You notice that over time they have become... less visible... at least not as angry red as they were in the media after they published the fugitive's photo.

Yeah. You saw the news. (And talked to Maria.) You know what happened.

Maybe you didn't want to deal with a man who had broken your heart many times over the years, but you couldn't just pretend he didn't exist.

His face, his name, even that stupid nickname, Jigsaw, were everywhere. In the newspapers, on TV, on the internet, in your old photo albums and even in your fucking dreams. And now he was standing in front of you. The shell that remains of a one and only Billy Russo.

"May I... may I come in?" he whispered, staring at you uncertainly. You promised yourself that you would slam the door on that scarred face when he came to you... but in your toughts he was more... arrogant... just like he used to be.

"I... I'm not sure." the words come out of you as you look at him, trying to recover from the shock. You thought seeing him in person wouldn't do anything to you. How stupid you were...

"Please... I just want to talk to you. Give me five minutes and then you can sand me back to hell."

You bite your lip. You saw on the news that the Punisher and Jigsaw had teamed up... if Frank could forgive him enough to work with him and let him near Maria and the kids, you could give him that five damn minutes, before you try to kick his ass.

"Only five minutes, Russo." you say as you let him in.

Closing the door behind him, you wonder how far you've fallen by letting him back into your home… but from the way he looks around your place hesitantly, avoiding looking at you, you wonder who's really lost their dignity here.

I imagine you are home In your room, all alone And you open your eyes into mine And everything feels better

"You... you look beautiful." he says as he finally looks at you for the first time since your… rather tumultuous breakup.

"You wanted to talk." you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the dresser and stare intently at the man sitting on your couch.

"I… wanted to come to you after… all this shit. I… I could have lost my fucking memories somehow, but I think you've embedded yourself in my brain more than anything else. I went to your apartment, but you moved away." he admits, avoiding your heavy gaze to stare at the coffee table. You see a sad smile on his face as he stares at the pile of books and papers that were almost always present in any available space in your apartment. Some things don't change.

"I did." you say, closing some of your patient files from him so he can't analyse where exactly you work after you quit your job at Anvil as their private doctor. You collect papers and put them on your desk, turning your back to him. "Some people would get the hint. Did Frank throw out what was left of your brain by smashing your head against a mirror?"

You know it's a low move on your part, but you can't resist making him suffer. And by the way you suddenly feel his warm body behind you, you know that turning your back on your former marine and murderous ex wasn't such a smart idea. You swallow and turn around, crossing your arms to stare defiantly at him.

He is angry. You see it in his eyes. For some strange reason, instead of throwing you against the wall, he decides to close his eyes and take a few calming breaths.

And the part of you that still cares about him reminds you that he never laid a finger on you. Screaming, shouting, verbal threats were options. However, he never lost his temper enough to actually try to hurt you... but maybe you should stop testing your luck after all?

"Well... I... I think he finally put something into my empty head." you shift your puzzled gaze to him. You thought Frankie and Billy would go back to fighting like vicious dogs, trying to kill each other. Apparently, things have changed more than you originally expected.

"And here I thought that no one would be able to get through your thick skull."

"I'm going to therapy." he blurts out. You frown. Well, this wasn't at all what you expected when you saw Billy again. "To… sort it all out." he says, not breaking eye contact with you.

"Well… good for you. But I assume you didn't come here just to brag about it."

Billy shakes his head and takes a step towards you, watching your reaction. You tense up, but then relax as your body subconsciously takes in the scent of his perfume, which after all reminds you of (ironically) safety.

"No. I don't. I... I'm here to ask you if..."

"Stop it. Whatever you are about to ask me, my answer is no. I don't want to have anything to do with you." you interrupt him before he makes any suggestions for you to consider. "Not after what you did to me, to Frankie, to Castles. I'm glad you're on the mend, but I don't want to know you, Russo."

"Y/N, please..." he sighs pleadingly and reaches up to cup your cheek. You grab his hand before you can feel his fingers on you in a tender gesture that so often melted your heart for him.

"DON'T... just leave. Do one damn thing for someone else's sake and just leave. Let me be as I was." you say, glaring at him and internally cursing yourself for the tremble in your voice.

Somehow you win this battle of hurt glances because the next thing you hear in the room after his heavy breathing is the door slamming as he leaves. You are left alone. You're shaking with the emotions that are flowing through you now. You put your hand to your mouth and cried quietly.

Billy fucking Russo always had to come and mess up your life like a damn master.

And right before your eyes I'm breaking, no past No reasons why Just you and me

You come back from your shift at the hospital to find Frankie sitting outside your apartment door.

"One more such trip to the past, and I swear I will take a dog from the shelter and threaten you with it. What do you want, Frank?" you ask, crossing your arms and glaring at the Punisher.

"Nice to see you too, Doc. Have you finally learned how to sew people up, or are you still torturing them?" he asks with a mischievous smile, standing up and walking over to you.

"It was only once in Afghanistan, and in my defence, you were squirming like a dog in a nettle. Besides, it's not my fault you fell on knives because you stumbled like an idiot after the action was over."

The man laughs and pulls you into a hug. "It's been too long. Too bad you fucking ran away from Russo all the way here, I hate coming back to this town. By the way, Maria and kids missed you too."

"I spoke to them just yesterday on Skype. Besides, somehow this distance doesn't stop you from harassing me. And not only you. Billy was here two weeks ago." you say, leading him into your apartment. You give him a stern look as he walk inside. He rolls his eyes at me but bends down and takes off his shoes before walking further in.

"I thought so. He's been looking like shit for two weeks. I'm sure he now consists of 70 percent alcohol. Lisa wondered if his corpse on the couch was starting to decompose enough for Maria to let her perform an autopsy on him." you smile at the mention of your goddaughter. That's your little girl.

"If you tell me you're here to stand up for him, I'll kick you out of my apartment. The idea of letting him be part of your family again after all this shit he has done is sick. You're a fucked-up man, Frankie."

"Y/N, it's not what it looks like."

"Frank damn it, he almost helped kill your family! If I hadn't let Maria talk me into going with you that damn morning to the Central Park and forgave him after seeing those fucking eyes of a broken puppy, he probably wouldn't have lifted a finger to save Maria, kids and you!"

"I thought so too, so I shattered up his face, and we did a lot of shitty, sick things to each other, but believe me, it's not that simple. This fucking mess around us... is partly his fault, but not in the way we first assumed. He's still my brother… he's still our Bill."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You were fed up with it all. All this drama that's going on around Russo. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if they'd never called you in to stitch up that damn Marine and you'd never met him...

"I don't care, Frank. He hurt you. For money. He can go and keep selling himself like a whore." you say bitterly and walk past the man standing in the middle of your living room. You go to the bar and pour yourself a glass of something stronger.

"You can't be serious."

"I fucking am, Castle." you reply dispassionately, drinking the alcohol in a gulp. You pour yourself another glass and sit on the couch, watching the conflicted man in front of you.

"Come on. It's you and Billy. You always came back to each other. After every shit, big fight and breakup. Like a damn Ross and Rachel."

"For the last time I'm telling you, stop fucking watching Friends with Lisa and Maria, it's our show. Besides, this isn't damn Friends or any soap opera, Frankie. Billy fucked up. Ultimately. Nothing will change that, so just fuck off or accept it. God! You're taking our breakup worse than that cold bastard." you laugh bitterly and finish your glass. You set it down on the coffee table with a bang and run a hand through your hair. No. You won't get drunk again because of that damn asshole.

"Bullshit. He's a mess… I've never seen him like this."

"Do I look like I care?" you ask him, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"You fucking liar, you couldn't stop loving him overnights."

You don't answer right away. He was right. You couldn't stop loving someone who was so deeply embedded in your soul, who saw all of you and became a part of your heart so easily... but loving Billy hurt you more than staying away from him. And for once in your life, you just want to feel at peace and be somewhat happy. Even without Bill by your side.

"If you want something, you better fucking say it or get the hell out." you say, not looking at him as your attention is drawn to your hands instead of the man standing in front of you.

He sighs, tightening his grip on the chair. You see his white knuckles, and for a moment, you think he's going to break the back of the chair. He sighs suddenly and relaxes his muscles, staring at you with a less angry look.

"I need your help."

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye (Eye, eye)

You imagined your reunion with everyone a little worse. Maria and the kids were in a safe house outside the city, but it was nice to meet the rest of your old friends (in the case of the murder of the last of Rawllins' men, but hey, people talk about different things, right?) And it was really nice... until Billy returned to the apartment.

As soon as his dark-brown irises met yours, an unpleasant, awkward silence fell in the living room. You felt not only his gaze but also the curious gazes of the others as they glanced between the two of you.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he asks, shooting an angry, betrayed look at Frankie.

"Don't worry. I'll be gone as soon as I make sure the Castles are out of any danger. I don't really feel like seeing your face too." you say, giving him a defiant look. You turn your head away from him and towards Micro as quickly as you can.

Billy had dark circles under his eyes, a paler face than usual, and obvious signs of sleep deprivation. You'd care if he was more than just a piece of trash who betrayed people close to him. Yet you still cared.

However, the man does not give up easily. He walks over to you, stands in front of you, and takes your chin in his hand to make you look at him. If you didn't know better, you'd think you saw pain in that son of a bitch's eyes.

"You don't have to look at me from the hiding place where we put Maria and the kids, so get your pretty ass out of here and don't cause us any more troubles than we already have."

"How dare you talk about them after what you did?!" you growl at him in anger, pushing his hand away and standing up to face him. "All the trouble we're having is because you're a selling-out motherfucker who betrayed the only people in this world who fucking cared about you!"

Billy clenches his fists and takes a step towards you, leaning towards you. You both breathe quickly, shooting each other hostile glances, waiting to see who will break away and attack first. The tension in the room is so great that you can almost feel sparks flying between you. Frank quickly steps between the two of you, gives Billy a stern look and turns to face you.

"Save the lovers' quarrel and make-up sex for later, okay? Billy, Y/N is coming with us. Y/N, you're not trying to kill Billy until we do what we have to do, and it's best not to argue with him at all. Same with you, Bill. Can you do it, or are you resentful young brats who will be at each other's throats after a breakup?" he says, looking between you two. You huff, crossing your arms and staring at Castle.

"And since when did you become such a responsible asshole, Frankie?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Since we've been planning a glorious murder at those, who tried to kill my family." you sigh and nod. He is right. Killing these bastards is your priority. You can't let your feelings for that asshole who still manages to get under your skin somehow complicate your already difficult mission.

"Fine. Just keep him away from me." you growl in anger and walk past Billy, elbowing him as you go to get ready for your 'mission' with the boys.

And if you looked over your shoulder, you would see a dark brown irises staring longingly at your retreat towards the armoury silhouette.

You find yourself at my door And just like all those times before You wear your best apology But I was there to watch you leave And all the times I let you in Just for you to go again Disappear when you come back Everything is better

A ring at your door at 2 a.m. should make you suspicious.

You should pretend to sleep and finish studying for the last exam that separates you from your desired diploma. You promised yourself that after completing your specialisation, you would leave the army and move to a state hospital. You were fed up with gunshots all around you. For now, you were well on your way to shedding your soldier's uniform and permanently donning a doctor's coat.

You were one exam away from your dreams... and one Billy goddamn Russo who was standing outside your door.

Before you could close it in his face, the man stuck his shoe between the door and the frame. You curse under your breath and open them again to meet this hot damn asshole on your doorstep.

"You shouldn't open the door at this hour without checking who's behind it." he starts, resting his hand on the door as if to make sure you won't shut it in his face again. Only now do you notice his bag slung over his shoulder. He must have come here straight from the airport as soon as he landed.

"A lesson for the future. What do you want?" you ask dryly, crossing your arms. He looks at you tiredly and sighs. The hand that isn't holding the door is combing through his hair. Dog tags hang from his neck as he bows his head slightly before looking back into your eyes.

"Please... I just want to talk." he pleads, wearing his best apologetic, kicked puppy look.

"We have nothing to talk about. Can you let go of my door now? I have an important exam tomorrow; I need to get some sleep." he smiles slightly. Reluctantly, you feel your chest warm up at that damn cute smile.

"Knowing you, honey, you probably weren't even going to go to sleep, just keep revising the material."

"What are you doing here? There were no more sheets of paper in Afghanistan? The poor postman used to come here with a bag full of letters from you. I felt bad sending them back just because of him."

"So… you haven't read any?" he asks, swallowing and staring at you with those damn eyes you would kill for someday.

"Why? I broke up with you before I left the unit. I was just your sexy doctor, right? Or maybe I'm distorting your words? I'm almost sure that's what you called me while bragging to your colleagues in the unit that you fucked the coldest and most unapproachable bitch from the base."

"These same colleagues saw me rage and fall apart as I was getting my letters back from you. I was the one of us, who was there to watch you leave." he responds to your accusations, and the pain in his eyes almost convinces you to throw yourself into his arms. But luckily, you remember the nights you spent crying because of the asshole in front of you.

"And I was the one who overheard that everything between us was some kind of fucking adventure for the time being until you get to another woman." you growl angrily, trying to slam the door on him, but his hand on it prevents you from doing so. He pushes himself inside your apartment and pins you to the wall, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. Loud enough to have your neighbours hear that.

"It's not true… what was between us… it was the only real thing I ever had in my damn life." he says with a shaky voice and you see tears forming in his eyes. "Neither of us expected what was between us to turn into something more than a few-month fling, but here I am, flitting around without you like a moth searching for the fucking light after spending years in the darkness, which was my life without you. I care about you. More than anything. More than I want to admit, more than I would like. That damn much that I would travel halfway around the world for you, I will grovel at your feet just to be fucking close to you."

You let your tears flow freely as you listened to his confession. You know what the man in front of you has been through—what demons of his past pursued him at every turn. And maybe it's his words; maybe it's those damn, tearful eyes that allowed you to see his vulnerability, hidden for so many years; or maybe you just can't live without him either...

Anyway, you grab his dog tags and pull him towards you for a passionate, tearful kiss as both of you realise one terryfing truth... You need each other.

"This is the last time, Russo." you whisper against his lips as he guides you towards your bedroom, stripping you of your clothes.

And right before your eyes I'm aching, run fast Nowhere to hide Just you and me

"What the fuck are you thinking you are doing?" you ask him angrily as he drags you by your elbow away from the shooting.

Things have gone a bit south. Frank didn't anticipate how much support the group we were supposed to kill would get, and now they cut off your group, and now you were forced to work with Billy to get out of here and kill the people you had to. A very mad Billy Russo in his stupid mask.

"I'm saving your ass. Stay here. I'll take care of the rest." he says, letting go of your elbow as he looks around the room.

"There's no fucking option. You won't play my hero, Russo." you say, and reload your gun.

"You won't distract me. You're staying here. End of discussion." he walks up to you and tries to grab the gun out of your hand. You struggle with him and use the grip he taught you to push him away. After a while, you aim your gun at him. You see a hint of fear in his eyes. You shoot, killing the guy standing in the doorway behind him.

"I'm not you. I don't kill my people." you growl at him in anger and move past him to drag the dead man inside and close the door. Billy is grateful for his mask... at least you can't see his shocked, pained expression.

He pulls up a chair and starts rummaging through the flap of the ventilation duct. During this time, you take the gun and bullets from the corpse.

"I would never kill the Castles." he says, not looking at you as he continues to open the vent. "They are my family... just like you."

"You haven't been my family for a long time." you snort at his seemingly tender words. You shiver when he suddenly jumps from the chair and pins you to the wall. Even from behind his mask, you can see how hurt and furious he is.

He holds your arms tightly, almost in a bruising embrace, as he whispers from under his mask so quietly that you can barely hear his words and his voice shaking with emotion.

"Everything... I've ever done... I've done for you. For us."

"There are no us, Russo." You growl in anger and push his arms off of you. You go to the air vent, but he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards him. You fight him, even going so far as to rip off his mask, but he still holds you in a tight hug, staring into your eyes.

"I fucking love you; do you understand?! With my entire pathetic existence. I know that now you only see me as a monster and that my face is disgusting, but I can't... I can't lose you. Not you. I can endure everything—insults, your hatred... just... please... please don't leave me." he whispers desperately, cupping your cheek in one hand and resting his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, feeling tears welling up in them. You can't count how many times you cried because of that bastard in front of you.

"You think I care about your scars? I don't give a damn about them. What's keeping me away from you is your ugly inside, Russo. You don't care about anyone suffering as long as you profit from it. I'm disgusted by your personality and by the fact that you were willing to sell out your best friend's family and all the people who cared about you for goddamn money and fame. And I hate you, because somehow, even after all you've done, I still care about your damn ass."

His thumb strokes your cheek tenderly as you let him kiss the tears off your face as you almost fell apart in his hands, which you've missed for so long.

“Y/N, my heart, I swear I would never, ever hurt them. You have to believe me. I wouldn't risk what we have… I wouldn't risk losing you after having no one to care about for my whole messed-up life.”

And you're inclined to believe him. You are willing to forget everything and just accept him back. But then you hear a faint beeping sound. You both freeze, staring at each other.

Billy works fast. Too fast for you. He pushes you into the vent and closes the hatch behind you before you can do anything. After a moment, a quiet explosion echoes from the room below you, masking your frantic scream of his name.

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye (Eye, eye)

Billy was not a good man. He knew it. He had no reason. Life never spoiled him, and everything he worked for he had to tear out with his nails. He had no reason to be good. But what he was about to allow now would seal who he was forever. There would be no turning back. And he knew it the moment he joined Castles in the Central Park.

He actually had nothing to lose. Y/N left him, and it would only be a matter of time before Frank would turn on him. He would be alone again. At least he would have guaranteed his future... however empty it might be. But he always believed that it was better to be depressed in an expensive sports car than anywhere else.

At least that's what he thought until he saw Y/N again, for the first time since their next big (this time final, which he deeply believed) breakup. And God, she was beautiful. More beautiful than ever.

She was wearing that little black floral dress that he loved, and she was joking about something with little Lisa as she dragged her through Central Park and the stands. Little Castle led her towards him.

Quiet: "Don't fuck it up, Uncle Bill." came from Frank Jr.'s mouth, before the kid disappeared, likely going to his father, who was probably already watching him. A young boy had to stop using such words. Maria would have his and Frank's heads for it.

Billy's eyes met yours. He gulped, watching as you walked up to him, and Lisa disappeared, probably going to the hideout where her parents were, watching him and Y/N. He clears his throat as you stand in front of him and gives you one of his practiced smirks... though he doubts he's acting as confident as he should be.

"Hi." he says quietly, staring at your face. His stupid heart beats like crazy as he completely forgot everything that wasn't you.

"Hi." you reply, playing with one of the rings on your finger—a nervous habit that he has despised since he felt the need to put HIS ring on you that you can play with and twirl on your finger when you feel insecure. "It was a long time."

"Indeed." he agrees and puts his hands in his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant. "You look beautiful, how are you?" he asks, as if he didn't have people positioned around you, to keep you safe and out of his troubles... the daily update about your life was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind after... losing you.

"All right. I got this job at the hospital." he knows. He himself made a transfer to the account of the hospital's head so that he would employ you there. Still, a smile appears on his face at the excitement in your eyes.

"I told you it was only a matter of time. You are the best surgeon in the USA."

"Well, I doubt Frank would agree with that." you laugh, and he can't help but join you. Frank was your test subject. A very grumpy test subject. Billy could never complain about being a little too strict or stitching it up too quickly at your beginnings. You were just perfect in his eyes.

"Don't listen to him, he is just a brat." he says, nudging your shoulder gently with his. And suddenly, you both stare at each other. You both linger on the other's lips for a moment longer.

"I missed you, Bill." you admit and his heart starts beating wildly.

He swallowed. No. He can't drag you into his shit. You would be better off without him... but as you stood in front of him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours that he would do anything for, he knew he had lost. And much sooner than he realised it.

He pulls you into his embrace. And when you wrap your arms around him, when you snuggle into his chest, and he inhales your scent, burying his nose in your hair, he knows he's home. He knows that he wants to feel this way forever and that life without you simply makes no sense to him anymore. And if he were anyone else, if he hadn't gone through all this shit in his life, he would have cried right there.

Instead, he pulls you closer to his chest, almost digging his fingers into your back, and whispers softly, his eyes closed tightly:

"This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore." he kisses your head, sealing his promise. He will burn the world for you. And nothing will stop him.

And as you sit next to him on the bench, across from the Castles, who are teasing you about how you two can't live without each other, he just smiles and texts his people to call off the action. Unbeknownst to you all, he declares war on Rollins, writing to him: "No one hurts my family. That's the end of the deal."

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong This is the last time I say it's been you all along This is the last time I let you in my door This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore Oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho Oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho

You've been holding his hand since you returned to the Castles' house after his doctors examined him and patched him up. They didn't let you get to him. Something about an emotional attachment would cloud your judgement as a doctor. Stupid bullshit, but there was nothing you could do against Frank's strong grip as he held you in the hallway until you were allowed to carry him home. You're sure Castle had scratches from your nails when you tried to get away to go to Billy.

You shiver when Frank suddenly enters the room and hands you cup of tea. You take it from him without a word with one hand, and with the other, you still hold Billy, waiting for him to wake up. Frank snorts and sits down in the chair next to you, watching you closely.

"He'll get through this. Fortunately, he didn't set himself on fire, he just crashed into the opposite wall." you shiver, ignoring his words as you sip your tea. "Although I doubt he'll have any luck next time if you dump him again. Who knows what he'll do next time just for you to hold his hand."

"What the hell are you talking about?" you ask angrily, shifting your outraged gaze to him. He just shrugs.

"Do you think he let me give him those scars just like that? This is some form of his twisted compensation or punishment. The fact that he was hoping you would magically come get him and patch him up only encouraged him more to stay still as I smashed his face."

"You're fucked up. Both of you. No normal people would come back to being friends after something like that."

"We're all fucked up. Me, because I still see him as a brother. He, because he still wants to be part of my family. And you, who love him despite everything, but leave him at every possible opportunity." you turn your gaze away from him to Billy. He is right. And that hurts the most.

"Every time I promise myself it will be the last time. That I will never go back to him. That this is the last time he breaks my heart without even blinking. One last time I let him back into my life, but I… I just can't, Frankie… I can't leave him, no matter how much he destroys me."

"He thinks he's not worthy of you. That you deserve better." you huff bitterly, shaking your head, trying to fight away the tears.

"There is nothing for me apart from him." you whisper, staring blankly at your linked hands with Billy's. "Not after everything I've been through with him."

"Then stick with it. It's better to be fucked up together." you are laughing. It's not that simple, it never was… or maybe it was you who didn't want to make it such a simple thing.

"You should go to Maria and the kids." you say, wanting to get rid of him. You don't know what you feel. All you know is that you won't leave this room until those dark brown irises look back at you again.

"Will you stay with him?" he asks, and from the heavy atmosphere in the room, you feel like this question means more. He asks if you will stay forever. You lift your hand and gently run through Billy's short hair, observing what happened to him after the two of you were apart... and in fact, you weren't holding up any better than he was.

"Yes... yes I will." you whisper, never taking your eyes off his face. And you feel like something heavy has fallen off your chest. Months of crying, anxiety and apathy passed with the snap of a finger.

"I want to be godfather to your first. And for him to have Frankie as his second name if it's a boy."

"Fuck you, Castle." you say and throw a spare pillow at him. The man laughs as he leaves. He closes the door behind him and you look at the unconscious Billy.

"This is the last time, Russo. I mean that. Don't fuck it up." you whisper and kiss your joined hands.

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye This is the last time I'm asking you this (This is the last time I'm asking you this) Put my name at the top of your list (Put my name at the top of your list) This is the last time I'm asking you why (This is the last time I'm asking you why) You break my heart in the blink of an eye (You break my heart) This is the last time I'm asking you, last time I'm asking you Last time I'm asking you this This is the last time I'm asking you, last time I'm asking you Last time I'm asking you this

The gentle brushing of your hair is the first thing you feel when you wake up. Another is his tight grip on your hands, as if he's afraid you're just a product of his head high on painkillers. You raise your head slowly. His hand slips from your hair and rests hesitantly on your cheek.

"Hello." he whispers, staring at you. And for a moment, you just stay like that, each drinking in the sight of the other.

And your heart breaks when you see him waiting for the moment when you start screaming at him, when you take away the closeness he missed so much.

So against your better judgement and what you should do, you lean in and kiss him sweetly, cupping his cheek in your hand. You caress one of his worst scars with the pad of your thumb as he responds to your kiss. His hands stay stiffly in place as he's afraid to move, lest he disturb this moment between you, to feel your lips as long as possible.

You pull away from him and rest your forehead against his. You close your eyes, catching your breath. You feel his burning, confused gaze on you, but you don't move. You don't say anything. You just sit there, enjoying his touch and his closeness, not thinking about the conversation you need to have.

"I missed… I missed this." he whispers shakily. You feel him burning with the desire to taste your lips one more time, but he maintains some semblance of control and settles for just moving the hand that isn't cupping your cheek to your waist.

"Me too."

"I know I screwed up. But… I will never… never again…" you kiss him again, interrupting him. You brush away the tears that fall down his cheek with your thumbs and gently brush your nose against his as you end your kiss.

"Shhh... I know." you whisper, straddling him, needing to feel him as close to you as possible after everything that happened. You were both shattered, but maybe you could put each other back together?

"Are you sure?" he asks, swallowing. You nod and bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He strokes your back slowly, drawing patterns with his fingertips under your blouse. You shiver at the feeling of his touch on your skin.

"This is the last time, Russo. Either we succeed or... it's over. And I mean it. There will be no great quarrels and returns, no appearances on the doorstep of the other at midnight. We'll either be honest with each other... and make it work... or we won't be together at all. You understand? We're at the top of each other's lists, or not at all. I don't want anything less, any toxic love, any blaming each other, and all that bullshit. We take each other and try to do something with us, or we end it."

He nods and pulls you closer to him, digging his fingers into your back, anchoring you to his chest.

"Deal. I hope you know, you just stuck with me forever, because I'm not leaving you." you lift yourself gently from his chest to look at him. Your eyes water as your eyes meet and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to fully express your feelings to him.

"Just... don't make me ask you this again... don't hurt me. Please."

Billy pulls you into a tender kiss, showing you all the love and devotion he has for you. Trying with your actions to ensure that this time will be different, that you will never suffer because of him again, that you will never run away from each other again, that you will never watch the other one leave again.

"I'm nothing without you. Trust me. I tried to live without you and look how it ended." he jokes, and in any other situation you wouldn't find it funny, but now, fueled by the high of being with him again, you giggle stupidly into his neck. Billy smiles fondly and strokes your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Break my heart again, and it will end worse for you. I have connections in the mortuary, Russo." he huffs, undeterred, and pulls you closer.

"Please. As if you didn't fly across two states just to stitch my face together because you didn't believe in the competence of the doctors at the hospital." you blush as you realizes that he knew about your moment of weakness after you found out what happened to him after his fight with Frank.

"How did you know?"

"I'd know your stitches anywhere." he says with a shrug and pulls you in for a kiss.

Maybe this really was the last time after all… and this time you will stitch the scattered pieces of both of you together for good.

[intriq]

hotch being jealous heheehehehe

HEHEHEHEHE YOU GOT IT POOKS

i also request that you all go check them out because their writing is just MMM CHEFS KISS

they also joined my beta reading team recently so >:)

Character: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner

Theme: ??? Fluff???

Word Count: 658

Title: French Marigold

french marigold; jealousy

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The case that the team had just finished took days. Took them days just to find and apprehend the suspect. A series of headaches and hours of lost sleep, pouring over file after file over what had been discovered to be a reawakening serial killer that had done a disgustingly good job at staying under the radar for years.

And what better way to celebrate apprehending the culprit other than going out for a few drinks the moment they landed back in Quantico? What better way to relieve the stress that had accumulated other than going out for a night on the town, drinking shitty liquor at a shitty bar?

Hotch had certainly thought it wouldn't be that bad of an idea. He wasn't the type to drink, not often at least. But he figured you could use the break, so he stuck around just for you. He figured he'd just stay sober and be the one to drive you both home.

What Hotch hadn't taken into account for, however, was that just an hour into this precious bit of time of freedom away from stress and catching killers, was one thing. Other people hitting on you, doting on you. Buying you drink after drink.

Hotch stares from where he sits with the others, drinking a water he was now wishing was something stronger as you wait for the next round of drinks. Reid is spouting some fact in his ear he can't be bothered to listen to, or it's something about his regular games of chess with Gideon. Morgan and Garcia are also talking, but it's nothing but mindless buzzing in Hotch's ear.

His focus is on you, entirely and utterly you. On the man that had the nerve to scoot a few seats down from where he originally was, body language displaying disgusting over-confidence. A narcissist, he thinks. Hotch can read him like an open-book from here, and he only has a view of him from behind.

Hotch watches as you push away what is probably the fifth drink that guy has ordered and offered you in the past thirty minutes. He doesn't understand what is taking so fucking long for the drinks you're waiting on to be done.

Narcissist. Over-confident. Die-hard momma's boy whose never been told no in his damn life.

Those are all things Hotch reads within seconds.

"Hotch, you okay?" Morgan asks, nudging him. But Hotch only responds with a curt "yeah, I'm fine" while his eyes remain locked on you. Not even glancing away to answer Morgan when he speaks. He says something to Hotch after that, but it's just white-noise. Hotch doesn't care enough to pay attention; not right at least.

Hotch is on his feet in seconds when he notices the slightest change in the guy's body language. That subtle shift that screams confidence that is soaring far too high for Hotch's liking.

By the time the guy's opening his mouth to ask for your number, Hotch is there. He's not one for PDA, but in this situation he'd give a whole fucking show if it meant he backed off. Which is why Hotch brings just one arm around your waist.

"I think it's time we go home," Hotch speaks, keeping his eyes focused on you. He's not gonna give the pathetic guy behind you even an ounce of his time, especially not when he seems so crest-fallen at how easily your attention is immediately on him. How enraptured you are by him.

You open your mouth to protest, but quickly have your words die in your throat when you see the look on Hotch's face. It's one you've never seen before, if you could correctly recall.

So you just agree with a quick nod, letting Hotch lead you out of the bar with a hand resting on your lower back. You let him drive you both home.

"What about everyone's drinks?"

"Someone else can handle that, I'm sure."

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[paranormal-peri]

Hey! Just wondering how’s the chapter progress going! Also how’s school atleast for me the first quarter is almost finished and so many tests and projects 😭 very fun and stressful 😀

Anyways just checking up on u :)

Paranormal Peri: Chapter 12 SNEAK PEEK!

Knock Knock

"Wanda? Cosmo? Are you there?"

Hazel waited at her neighbor's door for an answer.

She's been trying her best to not interrupt their search. They've been so worried about finding Peri.

"H-Hazel?! Oh! Uh, yeah we are here! Did you need something?"

Wanda spoke through the door.

"I was just wondering how you guys were doing, did you find Peri?"

"Uh, hold on, just give us a second… Where did I put my wand…? OH!"

Sounds of tripping. Something crashed down.

“Oh! Wanda, my wife! Are you ok?! Don’t worry, I’m coming over there!”

“Cosmo, wait! No!”

More sounds of tripping. There was a louder crash.

"What's going on?! Hello?"

Hazel opens the door.

A few miscellaneous papers escape out to Hazel's feet as the door opens.

Hazel is astonished to see the huge mess before her. The room was highly cluttered with stacks of custom papers printed with the word "Missing" that varied in heights. Most were taller than Hazel, which made it hard to see the edges of the room. It was like walking through the tall grass of a safari. Hazel tried to walk through the mess at the door, to search for her fairies in the jungle of disorganization, only to reveal how much deeper the clutter went.

A trashcan in the corner was overflowing with crumbled scrap papers of failed drawings and ideas. The center of the floor was entirely decorated with a chaotic spiderweb pattern of red string and pins that connected photos, files, and sticky notes that laid on top of eachother. It was a web of possible leads that must have started on the wall, but had extended to the floor for more need of space. Speaking of space, even the ceiling was messy; There were hoops of red string that swooped down like party decorations that connected one pinned paper to the next on the ceiling above.

Being careful to not step on anything important, Hazel worked her way through the limited small spots of empty space; she was lucky to have small feet for this. Behind the barely-recognizable couch, she found her fairies.

Wanda and Cosmo on the floor dizzy from the trip. Two previously tall stacks of papers now lay scattered below and on top of the pair

"Whoa, what happened here?"

"Ah! Watch your step!"

"Oop-!"

Hazel quickly redirects her footing.

Hazel reaches down and picks up the paper she had almost stepped on.

It was a hand-written poster with an old photo taped over a failed drawing of their son.

Hazel read the paper in her head. The poster had large bolded red words that read "MISSING: PERIWINKLE FAIRYWINKLE COSMA"

Below the title was a long description that turned into a writing expressing their sorrow and love and pleading for their beloved son's return. The hand-written poster's writing fades into smaller and smaller text at the end to fit in many more words; they had so much to say. It was bittersweet how much they deeply cared about their missing son.

They were equally heartbroken.

"Wow, you guys have been busy."

"Haha, what do you mean? We're cool, we're fine, yeah yeah, totally calm and chill"

"Yeah yeah, we're uhh… what’s it called…? Straight vibing! Very chill!"

Wanda and Cosmo tried to mask their dread, but their eyebags and state of their house did nothing to reflect that.

Another pile of paper falls over in the silence for comedic effect.

It's not just the house that's a mess.

"You still haven't found Peri?"

"Nou..."

The couple breaks in a squeak with big wet eyes

"We haven't gotten a wink of sleep, how can we?!"

"We don't know what we are missing. We've been calling everyone we can in Fairy World all night and we still can't find any leads!"

"Hmm… maybe you guys should get some fresh air, that always helps me clear my mind!"

"You're right Hazel, we should get some good wind blowing in here, that will get our minds spinning right!"

Wanda remarked. She grabbed onto her wand previously lost under the couch, and poofed to the nearest lightswitch and flicked on the fan without thinking.

The fan began to spin. They all noticed the deep mistake made.

Not only did papers begin to fly and scatter around the room, but the fan suddenly caught onto some of the red string that hooped down on the ceiling. The red string quickly became tangled in the fan as it kept spinning faster. Pins that previously held down string and paper at points went flying to different parts of the room, Hazel ducked down to avoid the crossfire.

Wanda flicked off the fan to prevent further damage, but it was too late; the entire line of connected clues soon all became undone and scattered with the spin of the fan.

"Oh dear."

Hazel poked her head out from the sea of scattered paper that filled the room.

Cosmo did the same, but his face was covered in pins.

"Oh Cosmo, are you hurt?"

Wanda swam over.

"No… except for my heart."

The couple wept in each other's arms.

"Are we never going to find our little Poofie?"

—————

I love writing these adorable idiots sm.

We aren’t gonna get much Peri in this chapter, but we are going to get very important scenes with the other characters as we see them beginning to solve the case of their dear missing Peri.

Also… we will see how Irep is tied into this complex storyline. Things will continue to get deeper.

[diazheartsbuckley]

🚨🚨🚨❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 📸 📸 📸⬇️⬇️⬇️

Hiya!

Previous snippet of 🚨 here

TW: Mentions of abuse

"What is this?" Eddie questions as Buck places a brown file in front of him, not even saying a word. Buck had barely spoken to him for the past week and Eddie knew that he was treading waters, that he had really messed this one up even if it had been with the best intentions. "Well, since you're so interested in putting your nose where it doesn't belong, open it and find out" "Buck, look, I'm sorry. I know that I shouldn't have-..." "Just read it. Or at least just look it through" Eddie flips through a few pages and soon concludes that it's Buck's medical record. There are x-rays, doctors' notes, and treatment plans that looks like they weren't followed. "I think this one is the most interesting" Buck stops Eddie from flipping and Eddie notes the date - a week before Buck was arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. "What is this?" Buck shifts from angry to nervous to visibly upset before he explains. "My biological father threw me out the window for being home five minutes past curfew, broke my wrist and forearm. So-..." Buck exhales sharply. "I decided that I had had enough and I tried to kill him"

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

"I uhm-... I'm sorry, lieutenant" "No, you're not, Buck. And we both know that you're only sorry because your friends aren't here to bail you out of trouble" Eddie grins, baring his canines and watches Buck faltering as he holds onto his wrist. "You're right. I'm not sorry" "That's better. So tell me, what are you gonna do to make it up to me?" Buck's cheeks become more and more red by the second as he places his hand on top of Eddie's half-hard cock and gives it a firm squeeze, biting his lip in anticipation. "Are you looking to get caught, probie?" Eddie questions lowly and Buck lets his hand ride down Eddie's inner thigh. "Fuck me in the bathroom" "Oh, you think that you can make demands?" Buck gulps and shakes his head a little. "Will you please fuck me, lieutenant? I deserve to be punished" "That's more like it. Be a good boy and go to the bathroom and wait for me"

📸📸📸📸

Find everything for this fic here

"You try telling that to whoever'll be reading our mission report. Everyone saw what happened out there. I failed my team and I failed you, Buck" Buck can't help but to notice that this is the first time that the sergeant doesn't use his full last name but rather the name that everyone knows him by. But it doesn't feel like the right time to point it out. "I'm okay, Eddie" Buck puts his hand gently on Eddie's shoulder, feeling it slowly ease up as he touches him and Eddie just nods slightly, smiling briefly. "I know. I just-..." "I'm okay. So is your team. Jackson will be okay too, you know?" "Okay. Thank you" "No need for 'thank you's', sergeant. We're all here for the same reason"

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Once Buck slots the key to his motel room into the lock, it beeps and clicks open and it quickly earns him a firm set of hands on his hips, almost pushing him inside. "You're that eager, huh?" Buck murmurs as he reaches backwards, his hand landing on the side of Eddie's stubbled jaw. "Hmm" Eddie spins him around in a shift move, his fingers effortlessly unbuttoning his shirt in front of Buck, exposing his chiseled and slightly sweaty chest. "Eager doesn't begin to cut it, darlin'" The Southern drawl in Eddie's voice making a clear appearance and Buck is pretty sure that he was to simply close his eyes and listen to Eddie talk to him, he'd be coming in his pants within minutes.

Make me write ✍🏻

[hotchlove]

New Addition(s) | Reader X Aaron Hotchner

• i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, any type of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • new addition(s) - 885 words • desc.: - dharma & greg but it's you and aaron <3 - fluff!!!

• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •

you and aaron have been married for a year now. you met on a run in the park. well, he was running and you were teaching an outdoor yoga class cause' the building you usually teach in was under construction. it was like love at first sight, he saw you and immediately asked you out. you like a man with a little confidence, so you agreed. and it was the best first and last date ever. you took him to a baseball game where you listened to organ music, after he defended you against a tall, angry man you accidentally bumped into, you took him to get pie - in las vegas. he argued that there was pie in quantico too, which there was, but you counter-argued that no pie can beat the pie in vegas. after a 5h flight and first bite of the pie, he shut up. you were right - best pie ever. you talked about your future and how much you like him and how much he likes you - he told you all about his life and work. his late ex-wife, his little boy - jack, who you were estatic to meet. he also mentioned how he's a slight bum when it comes to romance, and how he wishes there was a way you could just skip the dating stage and just get married and live happily ever after.

and so you did. you went to a wedding chapel in vegas, which wasn't hard to find, and got eloped. when you mentioned the idea, he thought it crazy. how could he run off and get married after one single date? but he didn't take much convincing. one look at your puppy eyes and he melted. now, if it hasn't been clear already, you and aaron are complete opposites. he's a fbi agent, a profiler, who could kill with his stern expression - and you, you're a yoga teacher with a smile that radiates sunshine and a crave for spontaneous new things and change. your relationship wasn't easy at first, you had to adjust to aaron and his high priority job, and he had to adjust to you. your crazy lifestyle, your beliefs, your spontaneity. he's not really sure he's adjusted to that last one just yet.

--

he's sitting at home on the couch, cracking open a cold beer as he works through some files he brought home with him. it's already 10:45 pm, meaning jack was put to sleep about 10 minutes ago. i open the apartment door and get greeted by aaron and his lovely smile that just melts my heart every single time. "hey honey, where you been?" he chugs a sip of his beer as i hang my jacket and drop my bag infront of the door. "'kay, listen, you can't get mad at me." i sit down next to him on the couch as he gives me a kind of concerned look, "mad? what happened? are you okay?" i nod, "oh yeah, i'm fine, don't worry about me." "but worry about someone?" he chuckles, "no, i promise i didn't murder anyone just yet." he sighs out of relief, although he's quick to correct me about that last part of my sentence. "do you promise you won't get mad? you have to hear me out aaron, 'kay?" i say and sit with my legs criss cross, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "i promise. now spit it out, you're making me worried. should i be worried?" "i might have gotten us a dog." i can't tell what his expression means. is he happy? furious? confused? "aaron?" "sorry i think i heard wrong - a dog?" he stares at me and i nod. "why- why did you get a dog, y/n." he drops his head into his palm and laughs, in a good and hopefully not manic way.

"i went to the shelter - just to look!" i smile and bite my lower lip, "and he was sitting there so sad and alone and i couldn't just leave him there, aaron. you know me, i'm better than that." he nods, "of course." his thumb brushes my cheek, "i know honey." he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. "so you're not mad?" "well i'm not exactly enthusiastic, i would definitely not have minded getting asked about this first before you got one," i gulp and whisper sorries. "but i trust you and your judgement." he hugs me and his hand rubs my back, "plus, jack won't mind having a furry friend around to chase." i giggle at the thought of that, "oh honey, i promise you'll love them."

it's quiet for a second, "honey?" his voice mutters. "yeah?" "them?" i move away from his embrace and bite my lower lip again, trying to surpress my laughter, "okay, i got two dogs." "y/n. please tell me your joking." "they looked so happy together, aaron! they reminded me of us!" i giggle and he sighs, his head dropping once again. "you will be the death of me, woman." "maybe one day, but not today, we've got dogs to take care of now!" we both get up from the couch as our fingers intertwine and i lead him to our bedroom, "oh also, i named them sherlock bones and butterball." "'course you did."

[billybabearr]

Some BillyBabe fanfic-writing advice needed ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

So I fell madly in love with the Thai BL 'The Sign'. So much so that it had a horde of plot bunnies run wild in my head.

It gave me so much inspiration that I decided to just start writing again, which makes me unbelievably happy because I definitely forgot how much I enjoyed it.

My story is a RPF about the cast of the show, specifically Babe and Billy, because I just love their relationship (other cast members are featured as well, primarily Heng and Akk).

I don't have a good summary yet, but it's roughly this:

Babe Tanatat never anticipated how much his life would change the moment he stepped onto the set of 'The Sign'. He finds incredible new friends among his co-stars, experiences things he never imagined he would and gets to be part of something truly special.

But every success has it's downsides. From mishaps to accidents to sheer bad luck, everything that can go wrong does.

And if that doesn't make his life complicated enough, Babe finds himself grappling with some unexpected yet very confusing feelings for one particular coworker.

Babe has no idea how he got himself into this mess, nor how he can get out of it.

(Seriously, trying to come up with a half-decent summary is way harder than any writing I've done so far. But I guess coming up with a title will be worse 🫠)

In my story I'm following the episodes, going through them one at a time, picking out scenes that have the potential to go wrong / be funny / etc.. I'm also using the bts-material, as well stuff they said in interviews or offhand comments in their reaction videos (I'm a sucker for details, if you can't tell 😆)

Also, it might have gotten a little out of hand. I've already written around 130k words (not edited or in the correct order, but still), before I decided it might be nice to publish it. And I'm not even halfway through the list of stuff I want for each episode.

And yes, I actually made a list. A (not so) little file for each episode, detailing what scenes and prompts I want there with bullet points for the actual plot. So basically I already have a rough concept/script, but with enough space in between for new ideas.

Since this will be the first time I ever upload a story (on AO3), I'd like to get some opinions on it first.

What do you think about the overall idea? Is it something you might be interested in?

What tense do you prefer while reading - present or past?

What is your preferred chapter length (especially in longer stories)?

What do you think about pictures at the beginning of a chapter? Since I'm following the episodes/bts, there will almost always be a specific scene tied to each chapter. I'm playing with the idea of adding a picture/gif at the start of these. For easy reference where in the storyline we are (or just because they're all cute (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)). Is that something you'd enjoy? Or do you find it more disruptive/annoying?

And I'm always open to new prompts or plot ideas (tied to specific scenes or not).

I hope some of you can share your thoughts, since I'm a complete newbie to publishing stuff. Any other tips and tricks are always greatly appreciated as well 🤗

Have a good one!

(+ I promise my actual writing is better than whatever weird rant this is. Never done a blog post either, and I'm guessing it shows 😂)

[lewkwoodnco]

omg hi you said you were opening requests for lockwood in general and not just songfics so i was wondering if you could write one where lockwood gets hurt in a mission trying to protect reader (they’re dating) and when they get back to portland row she gets mad at him and they have a really bad argument that ends up with the reader saying she doesn’t love him anymore (shes lying) and wants to leave lockwood and co !! (if it’s possible for you to end it on a happy note it would be amazing but if it’s hard to write there’s no pressure)

only love can hurt like this - Lockwood x Reader

Psst I now have a taglist! yippee!

A/N: okay SO I know the title is from a song but it’s nottt a song fic and gosh this made me realise what a crutch music has been in my writing 😭 if any of y’all have more non-songfic requests I would rlly appreciate it 🙏the beginning's a lil fluffy hehe, inspired by this post! P.S. condolences for shadow and bone </3, wc 4.7k She was in the kitchen when George and Lockwood returned from their case, dusty and exhausted, and fixed up some tea for them. George took his tea up to his room with a mumbled thanks and Lockwood pressed a distracted kiss to her temple as he pulled out the biscuit tin. She made a calculatedly casual remark about going down to the basement to help Lucy sort out their storage, at which he rolled his eyes and pulled her into the chair next to his.

But that was about an hour ago, and now she could hear the tired flipping of pages and stacking of files from the library, where he was buckling down to fight the growing pile of paperwork on his desk. He's facing away from her when she steps in, and from the looks of it, the paperwork seems to be winning.

"I know you wouldn't want to make a fuss..."

He stiffens, and when he turns there's an incredulous tilt to his eyebrows and the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. She keeps a hand over the candle's flame as she walks in balancing a card and cupcake on her palm.

"How did you find out?"

"I badgered Barnes for your birth certificate. Took me months."

"That can't be legal."

"Don't think he minded much in the end. Anyway, the card was like a pound and the cupcake is a gift from Arif so you can't refuse either of them."

He smiles despite himself, glancing through the card with a bemused interest, red glitter coating his fingertips.

"Well, I didn't know I was your 'precious sweetheart.'"

"Oh, shut up. It was that or a condolences card."

"Hmm, this card really is the gift that keeps giving. 'To my dearest darling...'"

"Maybe I should have had a look through."

"...blah blah blah 'perfect day for my adorable sweetheart -'"

"What on earth kind of a shop is Arif keeping?"

"'Happy birthday handsome'?"

"I think we're done with the card!" She snatches it from him and stuffs it under the large stack of papers on his desk, face burning, but it still takes him a while to laugh it out of the system. It's an endearing sight to see him so carefree, if exhausted, and even after months of dating she watches him shyly through her eyelashes. His haggard face makes it easy to see him as far more than only a year older, but for now it's enough that he's laughing and alive.

"First and last time I trust Arif's judgement on birthday cards."

That sets him off again, though he has the decency to try and choke it down, but even his suppressed amusement is infectious enough to make her lips twitch. She hadn't realised what a stirring experience it would be to watch him celebrate another year alive. He looks like he wants to say something, but she's not sure she can bear it.

"Y/-"

"Shh, just blow the candle out. Wait! You have to make a wish."

He sighs dramatically, but acquiesces, briefly muttering invisible words under his breath with closed eyes before blowing out the candle. She tries to match the fluttering of his lips to words but nothing quite fits, and she half wonders if he's spouting incomprehensible gibberish just to appease her. It isn't until he pulls out the candle and jabs her with it that she realises she was staring.

"You want to know what I wished for?"

"It's killing me."

"I -"

"No! You can't tell me or it won't come true."

"Y/N, it's a candle in a cupcake."

"I'm not putting up with any of your cynicism on your birthday." She thinks about the overly zealous card, and the crumbling cupcake that would be gone in a few minutes. "Should have gotten you a gift. At least a small one."

"This is perfect. Really."

"Still. Could have scrounged up a keychain, or a mug."

"What, from the kitchen? My kitchen?"

"You know me so well."

"Well," he leans back in his chair, almost superficially nonchalant. "I suppose there is one gift you could give me."

"Anything."

"What's it going to take for you to read the card out loud?"

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

That day had a sluggish quality which made it feel like years had passed by the time they set out for their job at sprawling, if ancient, mansion on the outskirts of London. Looking up at the giant house that nearly completely blocked out the setting sun, relief over knowing where the haunting was centralised washed over her; she wasn't quite in the mood to be running up and down impractically ornate flights of stairs.

The neighbours had reported seeing a ghostly figure drifting aimlessly in one of the open-air courtyards, and occasionally it would appear on the balcony directly above the courtyard, climbing over the railing before vanishing into thin air. Lockwood and George were stationed at the courtyard, Lucy at the stairs, and she on the balcony.

She stepped onto the balcony hesitantly, eyeing a thin, jagged crack running through the stone. The house was too cavernous to be considered flimsy but some of the crumbling walls made her feel as though one good thump would bring the whole place crashing down. She started to unzip her duffel bag when an ear-splitting scream ran through the courtyard.

She jumped, her ear prickling unpleasantly. It was as though the visitor had been standing right next to her, but as her heart rate came down, she realised she wasn't even feeling chilly. She peered down, where George was squinting up at her, Lockwood already with one foot out of their chains. She shook her head, trying to muster a thumbs-up with her fumbling hands, but he was already walking towards the stairs briskly.

She wasn't sure how long it took him to reach her, but it definitely felt longer than it should have. The adrenaline from the scream had made her especially nervy, with a sickly fog of paranoia settling over her mind. Those trees seemed too lush, too dense, dark green leaves quivering under the whims of some invisible wind. She tried to think about the cupcake, and Lockwood's face when he first saw it, and it was enough to stop the balcony from dissolving under her fingertips.

But when he reached her, hair tousled, his grip on her shoulder just a little too strong to be entirely comfortable, she saw a very different version of Lockwood. His lips were moving but there was something rampant in his eyes, something that gave her pause. She glanced at the monstrous night sky, which seemed to threaten to swallow them whole, and then at the inky black heat in Lockwood’s eyes, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed by them both.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Wha - hm?"

"Are you hurt?"

“No, I’m fine. You didn't need to come up here."

His hand slipped from her shoulder, sliding down to her hand, which he stared at as if he couldn't quite understand it.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up, the furrow in his brows dissolving, though he didn't seem ready to let go of her hand yet. “Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. It's just...I...I could have sworn..."

“Breathe, Lockwood. You look like you’re stretched thin.”

"I'm fine," he repeated, but it's somehow more hollow than the last. Part of him turned to leave, but something made him stop. He opened his mouth, then closed it again as if he thought better of whatever he was about to say. The burning in her chest grew.

"You feel it too, don't you?"

He exhaled wearily. "He's playing tricks on us. Maybe Luce should join you here -"

"No, it's best she stay halfway. It'll be fine; we can see each other."

He nodded stiffly, before finally walking away with considerable effort. The balcony somehow felt more alive as Lockwood left, the trees rustling louder than they should as the air around her seemed to contract. It unsettled her.

Eventually the visitor made his appearance, and though her Sight wasn't the best it helped calm her nerves to have something solid to watch out for. He was in the courtyard, dodging Lockwood's salt bombs while trying to fly at George, who was desperately looking for the source. There was only so much help she could give as any flares she threw from her height were only going to hit George or Lockwood rather than the visitor, so she focused on hunting for loose panels or hidden latches in the balcony and the walls of the house from which it protruded.

When she walked back to the railing, she felt a stab of panic at the blanket of grey mist that obscured her vision of the courtyard. She gripped the railing, trying to calm down. She could still hear them, but given what Lockwood had said about the visitor playing tricks, she wasn't sure how much faith she could place in any of her senses. A crash sounded, as if one of the weaker walls had caved in, making her wince. She put her hand on her rapier, steeling herself to make the trip downstairs.

Another crash sounded, but this one seemed to resonate through the mansion's skeleton. There was an awful grinding sound and she felt the floor beneath her feet tilt. She clutched what she could reach of the balcony's doorframe, hanging on by her fingertips, not daring to even breathe as she desperately tried to plant her slippery soles onto the marble floor. Her palms were sweating, and her grip was slipping. She closed her eyes, fed up with the hallucinations, and braced herself for the fall.

Instead of the swooping sensation of falling, she feels strong fingers closing around her wrist. She opened her eyes to the sight of Lockwood pulling her to the safety with a badly scratched cheek, but otherwise unhurt. It makes her want to sob with relief, but she settles for scrabbling for his palm with numb fingers. She leans against the doorframe, reveling in the solid wall pressing against her back, though her relief was short-lived.

The visitor shrieked much closer now, startling her as she turned to watch it hurtling towards them, obsessively staring at the chalice in Lockwood's hand. The growing pit in her stomach swells as she rifles through her belt with increasing agitation, panic stabbing her in the eye with every empty pocket. Lockwood twisted his hand out of her relaxed grip, and in that split second she realised what he was about to do. He took a final step onto what was left of the balcony, and the whole structure came crashing down.

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

Among the roar of the rubble, she picked out what she thought was the sickening crunch of bones, and it took everything in her to fly down the stairs instead of jumping after him. Lucy was already there with George talking on a phone nearby, and their faces paled when they only saw her coming down the stairs. The three of them frantically started shifting through the rubble, yanking at the larger pieces together. She couldn't see the visitor as the dust settled, which saved her the trouble of ripping it to shreds, limb by limb.

She heard a familiar cough coming from under one of the pieces, and with strength she hadn't known that she possessed, she pulls the piece away to reveal a dusty, battered Lockwood. George and Lucy aren't far behind, quickly freeing him from the mountain of debris. This time she does cry out in relief, pressing her fingers into the skull behind his ears insistently, shaking from the blessing that it was to see him alive and breathing. He winces, and her grip on his head tightens reflexively.

"What? What hurts?"

"Your screaming, right now."

As the DEPRAC vans pulled up, George filled out the necessary paperwork on behalf of Lockwood, who was impatiently letting the paramedics check only for broken bones. As the relief of finding him alive faded, all that was left was a smarting irritation. Lockwood would forever and always remain addicted to playing the hero, she knew that, but it didn't piss her off any less, especially when he put his life on the line for it.

Once Lockwood finally managed to shrug off the last exceptionally persistent paramedic, the four of them trudged over to one of the cabs DEPRAC had flagged down for them.

"Hang on - what about the source?"

George turned and she followed his gaze to the team of DEPRAC officers delicately draping an iron net over the rubble.

"Given that it was the balcony itself, I think it's been taken care of."

As they settle into the cab, Lockwood carefully scans her face which is still as inscrutable as it was ten minutes ago. She relents, but only a little, giving his hand a light squeeze. She closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder, whispering quietly.

"I wish you'd let them look over you properly."

"M'alright. I can deal with a few scrapes myself. Fractures, not so much."

George's tired voice floats from the front seat.

"You better not have a concussion, idiot."

She feels him still next to her, and suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Why couldn't he let the paramedics do their job properly? Why did he have to be so stubborn?

She thinks about a night from long ago, before they were dating and before she learnt how to bully him into taking care of himself. They had just come home from a case, and he was sitting in his room in a curious manner: staring at the wall without even realising his door was ajar, or that he was still fully clothed. The patches of skin peeking out from under his clothes were littered with scratches and cuts, but nothing major enough to warrant first aid, save for the bruise on the side of his face. She paused at his door, watching him, and wondered if he knew she was even there.

“No library?”

“Not tonight.”

She didn’t like the way he was speaking. The response wasn’t immediate, as if it had taken him a while to detangle himself from his absorbing thoughts. The tone of his voice was as cordial as always, but there was some kind of agency missing, as if he were in a trance, and it unnerved her. And yet, something tethered her to him, some desire to protect him from some violence brewing close at hand.

“You should really get some ointment on that.”

“I know.”

But he made no movement to do so, and she felt awkward leaving him alone. That was how she ended up sitting next to Lockwood on his bed as the sun started to peek in. There was a misty tinge to the first strains of light, and Lockwood looked so pale she wondered if he was fully solid. She had watched his fragile and ambivalent spirit restlessly pace in the room for the past few hours, while his corporeal form withered lifelessly, but she didn’t understand him any better.

She slipped her fingers in his own, mildly frowning, as if trying to hold on to an increasingly amorphous Lockwood. His fingers reflexively tightened around hers before relaxing just as quickly, his first movement in hours, though his face remained impasssive. His hand remained relaxed, but when she didn't pull her hand away, he allowed his thumb to rest on hers. She had felt some kind of tension then, between the part of him that wanted to drift away and the part of her holding onto him for dear life. But now, the Lockwood sitting opposite her at the kitchen table was slipping through her fingers like sand.

"Y/N, about those conflicting jobs in Hackney - do you want to split up or should I cancel?"

"I don't know, Luce. Why don't you ask Lockwood? Since he seems to always know best."

Lockwood frowns, briefly looking away from the torch George was shining into his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She ignores him, muttering under her breath.

"God forbid someone ask him to try to stay alive."

"Will you cut it out?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, which one of us has a head injury again?"

"I'm fine."

"How dare you lie to my face?"

George clicks the torch off, hastily moving to another corner of the kitchen, while Lucy's weary drifting slows down. Lockwood still looks peeved, but there's a hint of bewilderment on his face. She sighs irritably, pressing her eyelids.

"What I mean is...you don't look fine."

"It's only a bump. Not even a concussion - George checked."

"At least let me ice it for a bit."

"Don't fuss. I'm fine. Just sit and have your tea."

I’m begging you to let me help you, she wants to say. But she doesn't, because she's tired and angry and still very much scared, so she's in no mood for tea. He glances at her face when she continued to stand, and his jaw set when he sees she's in the mood to pick a fight.

"It's like you don't even think you did anything wrong." Do you know how much that terrifies me?

"I was only doing my job as your...employer, landlord, boyfriend...one of them."

"Why must everything be so complicated with you?”

"Fine. I'm sorry I didn't want to watch you break your neck."

And I didn't want to watch the life leave your eyes. "Oh, but yours is fair game?"

He doesn't respond, and it's almost as though she can see the invisible barriers he's putting up between them. She feels a brief stab of panic that she mistakes for anger.

Don't shut me out. "And now the silent treatment! God, you're such a child."

He stops drinking his tea entirely, and it doesn't give her the satisfaction she thought it would. Between the exhaustion from the case and the frustration over the brick wall that was Lockwood, her tongue gets the better of her and she sees red.

"Sometimes I wonder how I ever loved you."

The activity in the kitchen grinds to a halt for a few, terribly long seconds, before George walks out, Lucy not-so-subtlely following him with their tea. The anger on Lockwood's face evaporates, leaving an irritatingly smooth expression of mild surprise. She Silence suspends on the precariously thin string connecting them. He waits, but she doesn't backtrack. She turns away, unable to bear the look on his face.

"I'm...I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I've been thinking about leaving for a while."

"...leave...Portland Row? And go where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere's better than here." Anywhere I don't have to see you make stupid, reckless decisions because of me. Anywhere I don't have to look at you nursing fractures in barely-healed bones. Anywhere I don't have to watch you dither for peace you can never quite seem to reach.

He doesn't say anything, and she's not sure if there's anything he could say. She leaves the kitchen, dragging her feet up to their shared room. She empties the contents of her drawers and closet into a bag as if on autopilot, as she hid in some dark corner of her mind, waiting, begging for some force of God to tell her to stop. Her bags get packed, she gets undressed, and it is only after she turns out the light that she lets herself grieve the life she's leaving behind.

She's looking out of the window when the door swings open, warm light from the hallway spilling into the dark, illuminating her barren nightstand. He pauses at the threshold but she remains completely still, and after a moment or two he steps in, closing the door behind him. He shuffles about, getting ready for bed in the dark, and doesn't look at her face even when climbing into bed. She wants to tell him to try to get some sleep, but she isn't sure if it's her place, so the words remain unsaid.

He was so close she could just...extend her arm...brush her fingers on his back...clumsily soothe the unfettered demons which came out at night. There's a heady oppressiveness to the dark which weighs her down, not as cool and fluid as it normally is, waxing and waning around their shifting bodies and burning skin. The moonlight reflected on the pale patch of skin above the collar of his t-shirt, skin which looked like liquid glass. Close. She was so close to this delicate, temporal force which wrought a religious kind of faith from her hopelessly melancholic soul.

What a misery it was to love.

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

She wakes up to the sun streaming over the rumpled sheets of the empty bed. She sits up, the house significantly quieter than it usually is at this time of morning. In the kitchen, George is standing by the toaster and Lucy's pulling out the sugar bowl, making tea. Lockwood's sitting stiffly in his chair, and he looks much more whole in the daylight, though oddly fragile with the protection of his suit stripped away. Their eyes instinctively meet when she walks in, after which they avoid each other's gaze until much later.

She gently takes her mug from Lucy, brushing off her protests with a distracted pat on her hand. The emptiness from last night hasn't faded, and she puts together a cup of tea and collects 2 pieces of toast mechanically.

Without thinking, she swaps the mug Lucy's placed in front of Lockwood with her own, only realising what she's done when she feels three pairs of eyes on her, her own eyes fixed on the mug in front of him. She clears her throat awkwardly.

"Lockwood doesn't take sugar with his tea."

Lucy probably mumbles an apology, but she isn't entirely sure given how all she can think about is how close his fingers are to hers. She wills her hand to let go of the mug, and it takes a moment to reluctantly cooperate.

"Thank you."

Lucy takes advantage of her pause to place her mug next to his, so she hesitantly takes her seat next to him. She picks up a piece of toast and starts buttering it while Lockwood talks in an unfamiliar voice.

"So...any plans on where you're going?"

"I've got an aunt in Brixton. Might stay there for a while, until I sort out something more permanent."

He gives a half-nod, as if he hasn't bothered to listen to her words too closely. "Well, you're more than welcome to...stay, at least for a while. If you'd like."

"I...don't think that's a good idea."

"I see."

She can't bear the way his face falls before he attempts an unconvincing smile. It makes her heart ache. Even though they're sitting close enough to have their knees occasionally brush, here in this grimly-lit, transparent kitchen, she's never felt more disconnected from Lockwood. She wants to reach out, slip her fingers in his, btu all of a sudden she's paralysed by doubt and she doesn't know how. She slips the buttered toast into his plate. His lips quirk into a faint cursory smile, but it's gone as soon as he turns back to his plate, a vaguely miserable twist to his pallid lips. They eat in silence, and it's the hardest breakfast she's had to endure at Portland Row.

In another life I’m easier to love. I’m less complicated, less convoluted, less given to bursts of self-destructive/violent tendencies.

Afterwards, she gets dressed, but she cant bring herself to leave just yet, so she sits on the bed vacantly, looking up when he . He pauses at the door, looking at where his fingers delicately rest on the doorframe, the same way they always rested on her shoulder when he wanted to dip his head to whisper something into her ear, as if compelled by some unrecognised desire to hold her close. She steels her face but her eyes desperately drink him in, all of his rough edges and limp shadows, the hazy outline of his body. He holds out an envelope.

"What's this?"

"Your paycheck. The last one." He adds in the later bit almost as an afterthought, and it's almost enough to make her stay. She slips it into her bag, choosing not to point out how he had just given out their most recent paychecks just last week.

"I know I can't change your mind, so...thank you for...everything."

He glances at the birthday card on his nightstand, and any regret she had over buying the card instantly evaporates. At least she managed to somehow get out how she felt once upon a time.

"You'll get another next year."

"Don't think George shares my love for cheesy birthday cards quite like you do."

"Do you think I'm making a horrible mistake?"

"Y/N..."

She wants to feel the comforting weight of his hand in hers, wants to lean against him weakly and have him tell her everything would be alright. But her bags were packed, her dresser as bare as her heart, and she can't help but feel as though she would never be happy again.

"Humour me. Please."

He sighs, but relents.

"Up till yesterday I thought George didn't love me quite like you did, so, frankly...I don't know what to think."

"So...you want me to leave?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you want me to stay?"

"I didn't say that either."

"You make me…so scared, Lockwood. And...sometimes...I don’t think you realise it.”

He moves from where he's leaning against the doorway to sit next to her. She leans her head against his shoulder. He lets her.

"You and I both know I won't be around for long. I just want to keep you safe while I'm still here."

"You don't honestly believe that. Right?"

"It's...hard to say. Some days I feel normal. Mostly. Some days I feel like no amount of candles, eyelashes or wishbones can keep me from an early grave. I don't want you around to see it. I put you through so much, Y/N. I can't say you won't be better off without me."

"What about you?"

He smiles bittersweetly. "You're too...kind to see it now, but one day you'll realise that...it's what I deserve."

A silence fills the room, until she breaks it by violently chucking the envelope at his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He gasps and splutters incoherently, still in shock from her attemoted assault.

"It's 'what you deserve'? What you deserve is a good knock on the head!"

"Fine, I'm sorry!"

"Don't ever let me catch you thinking like that again!"

"I won't!"

"What's it going to take to get it into your thick skull? I love you!"

"Okay!"

"I mean it!"

"I get it."

"And don't you forget it!"

"I won't." He wraps his arms around her, and she squeezes his torso aggressively, muttering increasingly extreme threats darkly under her breath. It's a sobering moment to hold each other as a new day blooms outside their window. "I won't."

They pull apart, but she still leans against him, and in that moment it's a dream to be sitting there, pressed impossibly close together, listening to each other breathe.

"I want to take evening walks with you. I want to watch you iron your ties on sleepy Sunday afternoons. I want to lose to you in chess. I want to manhandle you into celebrating your birthdays. I want to rub away the crease between your eyebrows whenever you’re thinking too hard."

Her hand drops from his waist to his wrist.

"Damn it, Lockwood. I want to hold your hand. I want to love you."

He interlocks his fings into hers, distractedly running his thumb over hers.

“Let me help you. Please.”

”I don’t think I know how.”

She tightens her arms around him again, overwhelmed by the burdens stretching out in front of them. Nothing was easy, not even this. Not even him.

"Just...hold on."

"I'm holding on. I'm holding on...to you. I'm holding on...for you."

TAGLIST: @mitskiswift99 @dangelnleif

[drchenquill]

Writerblr Interview~

Thank you @thecomfywriter , @nczaversnick , @the-golden-comet for the tag!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Well, if we're talking about writing, then short stories and novels. I love both. I mostly focus on my novels, but sometimes a random scene or idea pops into my head that I need to write down, but it's not developed enough for a full fledged story, but I just need to write it down, so a short story is born.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Romance and fantasy. I'm just a hopeless romantic and I love magic.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Again, romance and fantasy. I'm not that good at coming up with lore and stuff, but I'm happy with my smol magic system.

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

I wish I was a planner. I have the idea, sometimes I already know how it will end, but the rest is just a gaping hole of nothingness that I have to fill out. So, yeah, I'm a write-as-I-go person.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Every kind of music. There's no real type of music that I seek out. I just need something to accompany me on my writing journey.

Fave books/movies?

Currently: Favorite book is probably Born A Crime by Trevor Noah. It's a biography and not actually what I usually read as stated before, but it's such a good book. It's educational, interesting and filled with humor. It's a good read.

While movie on the other hand it has to be Pride and Prejudice (2005). I don't need to explain why.

Any current WIPs?

I'm currently focusing on "Daisy" and "Him and Me - Bound by Fate" because, you won't believe this, but I actually have them somewhat planned out.

I want to try to finish "Foliè" as well and write on "The Memories of The Future" more, but that is more difficult because the gaping hole of nothingness is staring at me everytime i open the file. I have some scenes, and the general idea, but the rest is just "okay, great, and now what?"

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Ooof, okay. Hair in a braid with a fringe a little too long. An oversized hoodie with long sleeves to fiddle with. Dark bell bottoms and some sneakers. My favorite black feather earrings and my four old as hell rings. (Very important, they are on the thumb and index finger of each hand. No other fingers).

Create a character description for yourself

Oh boy...

Painfully introverted girl with a lot of insecurities (thanks to school and people she never asked for their opinion👍) that made her socially anxious with the social skills of a rock. (I bet the rock can hold a conversation better than she can though). If you get to know her, you'll find out what a sarcastic yet sweet (not her words) person she actually is. She tends to overthink every interaction she has and has cried several times because she misinterpreted something.

A very gentle and hopeless romantic at heart (which doesn't play well with her social anxiety). Tries to be helpful when she can, but will shut down if put on the spot. You'll find her in a corner praying to whatever entity is playing Sims with the world that no one comes to talk to her. Will wear a smile most of the time and laugh at all your jokes because she doesn't want to be disrespectful. She can be a total bitch when you get to know her, but her snarky and sarcastic remarks mean that she feels comfortable around you.

Names every stray animal she sees. (Recent addition: a male cat now named Maestro)

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

Nope. If I do, I don't do it on purpose.

Are you kill-happy with characters?

I do kill off the "bad ones", although not always. I will and have traumatized my characters (I'm so sorry Leon) but I would never kill a character. I just can't.

Coffee or tea while writing?

Water baby~

Slow or fast writer?

Used to be fast, but now I jump from WIP to WIP so technically slow because I'm not far ahead with any of them, but I work on multiple.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Anywhere!

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

Good question. Probably one of those characters that lives secluded, in the middle of the entchanted forest, that talks to mythical creatures and everyone thinks is a witch or something.

Most fave book cliche?

Soulmates. I- Listen! I love romance, and soulmates with a bit of good angst. *chefs kiss*, you know? Anything "fated" and i'm sold.

Least fave book cliche?

I'm sorry, but enemies to lovers. (I can enjoy it only if it's written good). I just get too invested and then pick side, which leads to me not even wanting them to get together.

Fave scenes to write?

The angsty/fluff/romantic scenes. I love a good cuddle scene, a good kiss scene, or a good crying scene.

Most productive time of day for writing?

All the time! But as i'm writing this, I would pick the evening, because the mornings are so fucking hot right now, even writing makes me sweat.

Reason for writing?

To be able to share with lovely people at least a bit of my heart, because I pour it in every word. I also write because I genuinely enjoy it~

~~~

Tagging with no pressure @theink-stainedfolk , @paeliae-occasionally , @finickyfelix , @leahnardo-da-veggie ,

@oliolioxenfreewrites , @inseasofgreen and open tag

[romanestuffsposts]

can we please get Stucky spoiling their little. getting them new stuffies, blankies, sippys, pacis, toys, & snackies. I just want them to spoil me

Hi there love! 💜

Get ready because you’ll feel as if it’s Christmas!! ❤️

I hope you like how I write your request!

Enjoy <3

****

Warnings : just lots of love, kindness and fluff, pet names

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : a treasure hunt to find the best treasure in the world

****

You groan and stretch your sleepy body as the sun shine through your windows. You open your eyes and take your time to blink the sleepiness away.

When you're ready, you stand up and stretch again before making your way toward your door. You grab the door handle but stop in your track when you see a paper scotched against your door. You rub your eyes a narrow them to have a better look at the paper.

It looks like a map. Like a map you see in your cartoons when they have to find a treasure. You grab the map and walk out of your bedroom. You look around the empty hallway "Papa ?" you cal.

After a silent answer, you make your way towatd the stairs and starts to go downstairs. Once your feet left the stairs, you look around the living room and the kitchen "Daddy ?"

It's weird, why they aren't there ? Where are they ? They always greet you in the morning, cover you with kisses, hugs and questions about your sleep.

You go back to the living room, maybe you missed them ? When walk to the mini table near the couch, you look down and see another paper on the empty table. You frown when you recognize your Daddy's hand writing

Hello my love,

If you hold this letter in your hands it means you found the map. Papa and I are somewhere in the house but we can't go out, you have to help us.

There is three hints hidding in the house and you have to find it with the map. Those hints will bring you to us and the treasure.

Thank you for helping us, babygirl. We're counting on you

Love, Daddy and Papa

Your eyes widen after reading the words. Your Daddies need you, just like in your cartoons you have to find the hints to rescue your Daddies!

You take back the map and take a look closer. You look at the first point of the map and try to understand where it is. There's water so you immediately think about the bathroom. You make your way upstairs and once you're standing in the bathroom you look back at the map for more hints.

Your shoulders drop when you see dishes beside the water. You go back downstairs and walk in the kitchen. You think for a moment. Dishes... Water.... dishwasher ?

You open the dishwasher with trouble but still succeed to open it. You look inside and see your Papa's pen in it. You frown and reach it, you take it out and turn it around, maybe there's something on it ?

But no, there's nothing more than the pen your Papa uses to complete files in his office.

You grab the map and look back at it. The other hint is marked with a doll drawing near the second point. You walk upstaires and go in your playroom. That's the only room is the house where there's dolls so it can't be anywhere else.

You walk through the room and stop once you reach your dolls. You look through them and look everywhere for a few minutes. You sigh and stop looking through your dolls when you don't find anything.

If there were something hidding in there then you would've found it before. You look around the room while thinking, it means there are dolls somewhere else in the house then... But where ?

Without really believing in it, you walk out of your playroom and into your room. You gaze your bedroom until your eyes fall on your Bucksie. It couldn't... Right ? You slept with it in your arms ..

You walk to your bed and take Bucksie in your hands and as you lift your stuffie up from the mattress, something slide out of his wrist and fall in the bed.

You reach it and frown again. It's the elastic you gave to your Daddy one day. He was complaining about his hair getting long and him who didn't had the time to go cut them so you offered him one of your favorite elastic.

He wore it every days while he worked, wether it's in the office or outside. He never takes it off of his wrist so why is it here ?

You slide the elastic on your wrist so you're sure you don't lose it and take back the map.

The third point is showing a teethbrush so you make your way to the first bathroom before going in your Daddies's if you don't find it there. You look in the cup with the teethbrushes but don't find it there so you open the mirror and look through the teeth care your Daddies have.

You look back at the cup really quick as you were about to go out but take a double look in the cup. You take it and see your Papa's glasses he used for when he works on his computer.

You look back at the map and realised it was the last hint you just found. So you decide to go in your Daddies's bedroom to put all the things you found in their bed.

Okay so let's recap ;

the pen your Daddies used while working,

Your Daddy's elastic he used when he works,

And your Papa's glasses he has on his nose while he works on the computer.

It takes you some times, multiples minutes to find out that all those things were used while they worked in their office. You take your things in your arms and run downstairs to their office.

You stop out of breath in front of the door and your eyes sparkle, a little smile showing on your lips when you see a big cross in their door. You open the door and squeal when you see your Daddies sitting in the middle of the room.

They both turn their head toward you when they heard the door and stand up when they spot you "you made it!" your Daddy laughs as he runs toward you

He lifts you in his arms and you proudly show him the hints you found with a cute smile on your face "you were so fast! that's soo good, princess" Your Papa praises as he kisses your cheeks.

"our smart little girl" your Daddy strokes your nose with his.

You giggle and hide your face from them, you rest your cheek against his shoulder but you quickly pull back when you spot a large stack of blankets in the corner of the room

You wiggle out of your Daddy's arms and run toward the corner. You jump in the mountain of blankets and squeal. Your Daddies laugh as they look at you "look around the room, baby" your Papa says with a smile

You lift your head and gaze the room, your eyes widening at each inch of room you spot.

There's another stack of snacks in another corner of the room. Near this one, there's stuffies waiting patiently for you and in the last corner there's a many sippys who just want you to wear them soon.

You gasp and run all around the room not knowing where to go first. There's so many things!

Your Papa walks toward you and take you in his arms knowing that it'll exhauted you to run like this "look baby" he whispers in your ear. He points at their desk and you bite your lips whne you spot all the new pacis resting all over their desks.

You feel tears filling your little eyes as everything just hit you. You look back at your Papa who was still holding you and see from the corner of your eyes your Daddy coming to you

‘’What’s wrong, sweetness ?’´ your Papa’s voice asks as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb

You sniff and look at the both of them ‘’is all for me ?’’ A little tears fall on your cheek when your Daddies nod at you ‘’everything who is in this room is for you, beautiful’’ your Daddy smiles as he kisses your temple

‘’Why don’t we go out all of that upstairs and we stay in the couch for the whole day eating a lot of snacks ?’’ Your Papa asks pushing his nose with yours.

‘’Snacks ?’´ you ask with excitement and he chuckles while nodding ‘’lots and lots of snacks’’

You smile and jump in his arms. You can’t contain your happiness any more times. This is so wonderful!!

As your Papa walks out of the office, you rest your chin on his shoulder and gaze at your Daddy. When he lifts his eyes to met yours, you lift your wrist to give him the elastic back

‘’Thank you baby girl’’ he kisses your forehead

[luckystarchild]

I *do* keep my fanfic back-ups on discord. Actually it's where I write them too, so here's my process, it should be a good starting point at least.

Step 1: I write directly into discord. This is because discord is always in my pocket. However, there is a character limit, and it usually saves in progess posts for long periods of time. But if you don't hit enter there's always a chance the latest post will glitch. Honostly, character limit means you can't lose too much.

Step 2: I copy and paste it into notepad. This is because I want complete control over the formatting and want it compatible with *everything.* I make my chapters around 600 "lines" long which is shorter than yours so you may need to do some extra testing for step 3. If you have a lot of italics you'll want to pretend to edit the post and copy from that mode. It puts asterisks around your italics so they don't just disappear into the aether. (I put them back in in AO3).

Step 3: I upload the notepad to a condensed channel with only the chapters. Discord has a data limit for sharing files. I don't know what word processor you usually use, so you'll probably need to experiment with that. However, most of them can only be opened if the receiver has a copy of the same processor. Notepads open in discord (though with shitty formatting) and are downloadable by everyone. If you don't mind not having italics.

My step 4 is making it pretty for AO3.

I appreciate hearing about your process!

But there has been a miscommunication. When I said I was thinking of creating a Discord server for Lucky Child, my intention was NOT to host the story on Discord itself, nor use the platform as some kind of word processing alternative/a backup server for the text of the fanfic. The Discord server would function as a distribution center (providing download links to chapters as e-reader or txt files) and a chat/community center in the event Tumblr became unsafe and/or the AO3 servers went down and the comments section went with it.

Respectfully, I want to caution you against using Discord as your main writing program or as a backup server for your works. You should ideally be saving offline copies of your work that aren't hosted in the cloud on servers outside your control. If AO3 and Discord went down simultaneously, it sounds as though you'd lose all of your work. Unless you're saving those notepad files somewhere, you're putting the longevity of your body of work at risk. Any works in-progress that you haven't yet manually copied over to a notepad file are also at risk.

(Additionally, and at the risk of sounding pedantic, if you are using Discord as your primary word processor, you're not really "backing up" your work via Discord. That's your primary copy. It sounds like your backup is actually AO3, and potentially those notepad files if you're saving them offline.)

In the end, I'm trying to find a way to get Lucky Child to readers without relying on a single distribution platform (which at this time is AO3). Trusting your data to someone else's servers puts you at the exact risk I'm trying to avoid: censorship. Goggle Docs has been caught altering user's content or locking them out of their own content, and I can see a world where Discord follows suit and starts monitoring the content shared between users. I would avoid hosting the text of Lucky Child itself on the server to lessen chances of the story getting flagged.

If the system works for you, that's great, and thanks again for showing me your process! But it's not really relevant to my goals for LC and its distribution at this time.

[xf-cases-solved]

S2E7: 3

Case: Bro... I don't even know where to start with this one. Before this stats project, I had seen 3 maybe one (1) time before, because I had never had any cause to repeat the experience. I was, however, pleasantly surprised to find that, while it is still just as terrible as I remember (and perhaps even worse), it is terrible in an entertaining way, so at least I enjoyed myself, even though I have no FUCKING idea what the plot was about. 

But I'll try to summarize it the best I can. The X-Files are reopened, which would be cool, except Scully is still missing, and Mulder is handling it... poorly. He is basically running his own self-imposed Russian sleep experiment, so much so that at one point during the investigation, a detective asks him if he's going to his hotel to get some rest, and this fucking edgelord sort of huffs a laugh and says, "I don't sleep anymore." Okay, Mulder.

But right, I haven't even said what he's investigating, have I? Well, I would say that he is investigating [REDACTED], but apparently this episode is following zombie apocalypse rules, because literally no one will say the word [REDACTED] out loud except for mb one scene where Mulder briefly references "[REDACTED] myths." Please keep in mind Mulder once showed Scully a shitty drawing of Bigfoot with tiddies and called it the Jersey Devil, so the word [REDACTED] must be pretty fucking cursed for him not to accuse anyone of being one outright. 

Anyway, something something, there's a trio of [REDACTED] in Los Angeles who are called the Holy Trinity, and they're committing murders that have a religious undertone, I guess? And then there's this other [REDACTED], Kristen, who isn't a part of the trinity, but is the ex of one of the people in the trinity? I think? Or he's the one who turned her into a [REDACTED] when they were doing kinky bloodsport stuff? Bro idfk. I was so distracted by the Everything™️ about this fucking episode to really pay attention to the story. It's about [REDACTED] but no one says the word [REDACTED], and that's all you really need to know.

An LAPD detective offers Mulder some assistance on the case, and Edgelord Mulder says, "I work alone," causing the detective to question why an FBI agent doesn't have a partner and we see all five stages of grief flash across Mulder's eyes, and by all five, I mean only one, and that's depression; in the ONLY scene I can recall the word [REDACTED] even coming up, Mulder rambles at a crime scene pathologist(?) about how he had thought such creatures didn't exist, and the pathologist says, and I quote, "You are really upsetting me, on several levels," which was really fucking funny and I wish more people reacted to him that way; Mulder meets a hot [REDACTED] who tries to feed him blood, and his only reaction is to grab her wrist and shout "AIDS!"; the hot [REDACTED] has a tragic backstory, but unfortunately the hot actress who plays her is not very good at acting so no one cares; and Mulder has a very sad hookup, which goes up in flames the morning after. I mean that literally, by the way.

Does someone die in the cold open: Yes. Some [REDACTED] kill him with hypodermic needles??

Does Mulder present a slideshow: He is all alone again since Krycek went and did that whole "trying to murder him" thing, so nah. But you can't keep Mulder away from his projector forever. I want to believe they will be together again soon.

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Looooool

Whodunit: [REDACTED]

Convictions: Yeah, nah fam.

Did they solve it: I guess I'll give Mulder a "yes, but." Yes, but there's no way he's going to be able to write a meaningful report on whatever the fuck that was, and also they all exploded so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: Hot Topic or My Chemical Romance or fucking fishnet gloves and eyeliner or something, man, idfk. What the fuck even is this emo-ass episode???

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 15 (did you really think mulder could solve a case without scully? i doubt that prior to her arrival in that basement office, mulder ever solved an x-file in his entire goddamn life)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me": 9 (she doesn't have cell service on the spaceship, or wherever the fuck she is)

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 6 (she didn't seen anything, but it certainly wasn't convenient for her; she probably would have preferred to be dealing with [REDACTED] than going through all of those... well, we'll get to that later)

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 11 ½ (if he would have died in this episode i would have lost all respect for him immediately) 

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 11 (i think as long as we don't know her whereabouts it's valid to consider her as being in mortal danger)

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 16 (fuck it, if i counted him gazing longingly at the sky last episode, i can count him wearing scully's necklace the entire episode and holding it in his hand and staring at it sadly in this one. someone, somewhere mentioned recently in a text post that he would have had to lengthen the chain for it to fit him the way it does, and that's just ☹️)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 5 

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 19 (oh my GOD how X would have roasted him if he had been in this episode tho. it would have been glorious)

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 3 

Total Number of (Plot Relevant) Nosebleeds: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 3 (no, but that mfer came VERY close to eating blood, but thankfully his fear of aids prevented it (and not the fact that it was fucking weird for a stranger to offer you her blood to taste??? ok. i think it is way past your bedtime, mulder))

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 3 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 4 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 2 

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 13 

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 2

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 2

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 3 (no more krycek for right now 😔. but like mulder's projector, i want to believe he will return)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 11½ (i wrote it down, even tho i don't recall doing so)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 6 (this episode is fucking stupid lmfao)