all forty of you

Transference (M) – Chapter 01

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. 

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,061

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, discussion of BDSM, sex work, profanity.

A/N: This work is a byproduct of about 6 months of insomnia and 60-hour work weeks, which resulted in a series of recurring dreams about Jung Hoseok which were…*fans self*

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

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Say It (Jungkook/Reader)

Originally posted by sugutie

Genre: Smut - Inspired by a fic written by Admin JP + Say It by Tory Lanez.

Words: 7.2K+

Author: Admin Kaycie

Summary: Honesty was a trait you had always prided yourself in being strong in possession of, something your friends and fans all admired you for; so the day you announced you did not like Jeon Jungkook, they knew your words were true.

Tags: Dance room rendezvous, slow and sensual sex against the dance studio mirror wall, etc. 

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Ok, here we fucking go:

  • has existed since the 31st (I believe, as just a solid black website). Yesterday, a header image appeared of Sherlock sitting across from Moriarty in TRF, with several messages hidden inside. Over the course of several hours, pages were added and removed, discoverable only by manually editing the url.
  • The message above was hidden in the source code of the page.
  • 2 messages hidden in the header were “MISS ME?” in black on the TV and “40″ hidden in the wallpaper. The third alteration was a partial reflection of a creepy elephant. More on that in a second.
  • Some /messages only led to clues to figure out final pages. For example, /elephant led to a message that read “WHICH ONE?” /mary led to “Be more specific,” /marymoran to “Who?”, and /marymorstan to the cap of Mary with devil horns.
  • /tjlc and /johnlock loaded pages, unlike incorrect guesses, which would just be black with the header. At these 2 pages, an image w traffic cones read “404 Error” (4x04?)
  • At /cluedo, we got this image:
  • Many images were associated with character names and the episode finales, Moriarty-heavy, these were early on so it may have just been helping us figure out how to use the site.
  • At /black, there was a comment box where we could briefly communicate, which they seemed to interact with–someone mentioning norbury led to a /norbury page, for example, and I believe this is how they figured out we were “Stumped on 40” and, at the new /ineedaclue, told us “Go to the source. The real source.” 
  • Other oddities included /januscars (cap of the logo), /old (the victorian baker street mantelpiece), /new (a hotel room bath in niagara falls), /coffee (Sherlock in ASIP drinking coffee with “WRONG WAY” superimposed over it), /dymm (moriarty on the picadilly circus screens), there are too many to cover here tbh. 
  • At /solveme/, this message reads:

Which translates to the Henry V quote, I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. [The game’s afoot.]

  • So what’s with 13.9.16? Oddly enough, this is the day that the elephant, /murderousmary, was executed. The image that appeared at /murderousmary is here, it’s a smidge disturbing. Hmm… which elephant?
  • More of a stretch,13.9.16 is also the date that Mark trashed a Grimm’s Fairy tales Reichenbach theory in the papers, and Moriarty says “every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain” at minute 40 of TRF.
  • CANON references to 40, which seems closer to accurate, appear in TFP and The Lost Special. There’s contingency over what the 40th story is, we’re between The Valley of Fear and The Second Stain (and the Red Headed League??) at the moment, which are all relevant.
  • TFP: In three days, on Monday next, matters will be ripe, and the Professor, with all the principal members of the gang, will be in the hands of the police. Then will come the greatest criminal trial of the century, the clearing up of over forty mysteries, and the rope for all of them–but if you move at all prematurely, you understand, they may slip out of our hands, even at the last moment.
  • THE LOST SPECIAL: A telegram sent at 6:40 reads ““To James Bland, Superintendent, Central L. & W. C., Liverpool. - Special passed here at 4:52, well up to time. - Dowster, St. Helens.“it’s the telegram that says the train was on schedule and on the appropriate line, right before it disappeared” (from @edwardhardwicke)
  • So far, the message in the source code reads:
  • You see, but you do not observe.
    I see you like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start.
    Murderous Mary. (Every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain.)
  • Hmm. What appeared at /xxx, at the very end of the game?

Most pages have now disappeared, along with the header, leaving a mostly black site once again.

Take it as you will.

Fuck Away the Pain

Originally posted by luhan-vevo

A/N:…I don’t know why I keep writing smut. I- I can’t control myself.

Warnings: Cheating, Rough(ish) sex, Thigh riding, (Light)Choking, Dirty talk, Orgasm Denial, Cumplay, ya know, the typical stuff

~Admin Allie

Two forty-nine,” was all you said under your breath when you realized that Sehun hadn’t come home. You just knew he was with her, the person he called his business partner. But it was so obvious that she was more than that. The way they exchanged smirks over business dinners or greeted one another “unexpectedly” while you two were on a date always seemed so off. You would have given Sehun props if he had managed to keep it on the low, but he managed to think that you were actually that fucking dumb.  

You picked up your phone and dialed her number. He had the nerve to tell you that you should become friends with her. The closer you got to her, the more she smelled like a homewrecker that was out for the man you no longer claimed for yourself.

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Request from anon: Can you do a story where you (a muggle-born Hufflepuff) go to dinner with the Malfoys, but they’re a little rude and snarky and Draco defends you?

Thanks for requesting anon, may I please note to you all that requests are in fact closed and I am writing requests from the queue. I hope you all enjoy:)

Originally posted by potters-broomstick

It was one of those summer nights, the ones where it doesn’t get dark until 9pm and everything feels light and happy and infinite. You were smiling as you were walking with Draco hand in hand; you didn’t think anything could ruin the light feeling of the soft wind rustling your hair as the gentle sun glittered down. That was, until you stepped inside the manor. 

To say you weren’t what Draco’s parents were expecting would be an understatement. You’d finally convinced Draco to let you meet his parents after nearly a year and a half of dating; he said he didn’t want you to get hurt and over the course of the dinner you understood. 

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↳    “ I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”
“Home!” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.
Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home, surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know…” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.”

Devil Side-Chapter 17

Summary: Bucky asks you for a favor. you reluctantly agree. 

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None. emotional affair. 

Word Count: 1176

Are you rationed: are you going steady/are you seeing anyone?
Dropped: To kill
Behind the eight ball: In a difficult position, in a tight spot


The air in the room was stifling, thick and heavy like a duvet pulled too tight over your chest. Kicking it off with haste, legs swinging with a jerk in your irritation, you let out a heavy sigh. Sitting up, you grimace at the sweat stains which have appeared on the blue tank top you had worn, dark marks accumulating in a ‘V’ shape on your chest. “F.R.I.D.A.Y I need the A.C on, please.”

Her reply is instant. “Yes, Miss.”

The cool blast of air which follows eases your ire some. You were beyond tired, your mind had refused to shut off during the night. You had thrashed and groaned until four am when you had finally fallen into a restless sleep.

Bucky had plagued your thoughts during the night. Tumultuous emotions had run through your head at an alarming rate. Fear and anger, love and hate. All had formed a giant lump in your chest. You did not know what to make of Bucky’s confession, nor did you know how to deal with the intense attraction. The sheer rightness which had accompanied the embrace you shared and the heat in his gaze had sent a jolt of electricity up your spine which had left you shaking for hours afterward.

You’re conflicted. Bucky was your first love, the man you had opened your heart to. You’d share your secrets with him. There was nothing he didn’t know about you. Every dark secret, every name on your victim list, every fear you held had been shared with him. It had never occurred to you he would betray the trust you had placed in him. Yet he had, he’d destroyed your faith in love, in him.

But, somehow, he seemed changed. You couldn’t put your finger on the how, and it was driving you nuts.

Rising from the bed and striding toward your wardrobe, you fling open the doors. When a knock sounds at the door, you blink twice before calling, “Come in,” to the person on the other side.

Bucky bursts through, Reyna perched on his hip. His eyes are wild with panic, but Reyna was sucking with a focused contentment on the edge of the blue sweater you’d left in her crib some nights ago.

This squeezes your heart, a warmth spreading in your chest for some unknown reason.

“I need your help,” Bucky says, his words rapid fire, his face breaking out in a slight flush.

Your eyes widen as you drink in his appearance.

The red collared shirt he had worn is done up in a zigzagged pattern, every second button missed. It was wrinkled, and had what looked like a milk stain on his right sleeve. His black jeans had a similar rumple to them, the edges of the hem frayed with walking. His hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in a while, and you could have sworn there was a coco puff dangling from a chocolate strand.

“I can see that,” you reply with a hint of amusement. “Did you look in the mirror this morning?”

He groans aloud, as Reyna smacks him in the face with her Unicorn, giggling at her father’s distress. “I know. There was an outbreak of flu at the school, so I decided to keep Reyna here until it passed. I forgot I had a meeting with my therapist so I called her babysitter, but she’s not available.” Bucky babbles, his words running together with the speed of his speech.

You level him with a blank stare.

Reyna tugs at the ends of his hair, he grunts and moves her hand away with a stern, “No.”

Her lower lip trembles, her bright blue eyes welling with unshed tears.

Bucky sighs and places a kiss on her forehead, shushing her with clear tenderness. “It’s okay, baby girl. Not so hard okay?” He chucks her chin and nuzzles her face, diverting his attention back to you.

“Therapist?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

A rosy blush rises in his cheeks, the awkwardness which hangs in the air is acidic. He grins with fake cheerfulness. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, baby doll, but I ain’t all there upstairs.”

The forties slang that passes unbidden from his lips has you swallowing hard. It rarely happened, the one and only time it had was when he asked if you were seeing anyone. “Babydoll are you rationed?”

You had laughed until you cried when he explained. To this day it remained one of your fondest memories. “I’m happy for you Bucky, and proud. How long have you been seeing a therapist?”

He shuffles from one foot to another, his discomfort plain. “I went a week after you left… I could’ve dropped ya, and I didn’t deal with the guilt. Sam dragged me to V.A and set me up with a smart broad. She’s helped a lot.”

You nod, the memory of Bucky’s fist flying toward your face rises unbidden in your head. Your entire body erupts in a shudder, casting your eyes away from him.

“I’m behind the eight ball here, doll.” He’s hesitant, nervousness wafting off of him. “I need a favor”.

You cross your arms over your chest, nodding for him to go on.

He swallows before he looks at you, Reyna fussing in his arm. “Could you look after Reyna for me? Two hours max,” he asks the hopefulness in his voice tugs at your heartstrings. “There’s a great park, not five minutes from here. She loves it. I could meet you there with lunch?”

Your heart stutters, your eyes bouncing between Reyna and Bucky. The hesitation must be written on your face because he interjects before you can answer.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I can’t miss it. I would take her with me, but they don’t have daycare facilities. Please.”

You nod in cautious agreement.

Bucky’s face breaks into a beautiful smile before he hands Reyna to you.

She stares up at you, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. Her pudgy hands reach for your face and you fight the urge to flinch. They rest on your cheeks, and she, too, breaks into a smile, announcing “Ini’orn!”

Bucky sniggers out a laugh, throwing a roguish wink your way. Placing a chaste kiss to Reyna’s forehead, murmuring, “My girl has good taste.”

You blush crimson, holding the baby in your arms as Bucky exits the room. Looking down at her smiling face, you haven’t a single clue what to do with her.

“Uh… hi?” you venture.

She places a fat kiss on your lips and descends into laughter, making a grab for your hair as she does.

You can’t help but laugh with her.

The knowledge you would likely lose your heart to this little girl who sat so perfectly in your arms lies heavy in your stomach.


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“I’ve  heard  of  your  methods  before  now,  Mr.Holmes,”  said  he,  tartly.   “You  are  ready  enough to use all the information that the police can lay at your disposal, and then you try to finish the case yourself and bring discredit on them
“On  the  contrary,”  said  Holmes,  “out  of  my last  fifty-three  cases  my name has  only  appeared in  four,  and  the  police  have  had  all  the  credit  in forty-nine. I don’t blame you for not knowing this,for  you  are  young  and inexperienced,  but  if  you wish to get on in your new duties you will work with me and not against me.” 

Sherbet | Alfie Solomons

This is a follow on from ‘Biscuit | Alfie Solomons’






“What about ‘im, pet?”

“Look at him.”

“I am, yeah.”

“No, you’ve got your eyes closed. Look at him, Alf.”

You’d been sat up in bed for a good thirty minutes whilst Alfie snored beside you. His arm flopped over your lap and Biscuit lay across both of your legs. His head rested between them as he looked up to you. He was sad and every time he sighed you swore to God he broke your heart.


He eventually started to move with a grumble as he turned to sit up beside you. His hand wiped at his face trying to brush away sleep before he folded his arms across his chest.

“Right, I’m looking at ‘im, yeah?”

When Alfie spoke Biscuit turned his head ever so slightly, the folds of skin around his eyes lifted and creased at his forehead.

“Something’s the matter, Alf.”

You turned to look up to Alfie and even he looked a little concerned as you both sat in silence for a long moment.

“I know what it is, pet. Obvious, ain’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it is, right. Lovesick, ain’t he?”

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Call Me Four-O Four-O Four-O

My tribute to our lord and savior, Mr Gerard Arthur Way, who finally made it to his forties! From one seventies child to another, welcome, sir!

You like fatherhood, comfy clothes, meditation, going for walks, and cats. You still can’t swim, you still can’t dance (much) and you still don’t know karate. Face it, you’re not getting any younger.

I don’t wanna be younger, I just wanna…

Well if you wanted youthfulness, that’s all you had to say.
Cause I got genes to make you cry or make you go, how does he look this way?
For all the Britpop looks, the photographs that Kerrang! took,
Remember when I broke my foot from Frankie jumping onto me?

I’m not thirty
I’m not thirty
I’m not thirty
You wear me out

What will it take to show you that MyChem is really dead?
(I’m not thirty)
I’ve told you time and time again but you can’t seem to get it in your head
(I’m not thirty)
You think Frerard was real, you loved it when my roots were teal
But that was then and anyhow for the last time, I write comics now!

Forget about the Revenge looks
The photographs my boyfriend that Frankie took
You said you read me like a book, but the pages all are Doom Patrol

I’m forty
I’m forty!
I’m forty, now
(I’m forty, now)

But you really need to listen to me
Because I’m telling you the truth
I mean this, I’m forty!
(Trust Me)

I’m not thirty
I’m not thirty
Well, I’m not thirty
I’m not thir-fucking-ty
I’m not thirty
I’m not thirty

Little One

Summary: daddy!Chris Evans x Reader where the reader is pregnant with Chris’s daughter, but she’s born prematurely and has to stay in the NICU for a while (as requested by @chanelzs)
Word count: 1264
Warnings: birth, feels, fluff

Originally posted by dailyevanstan

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Crystal Snow

Originally posted by slapmon

Chapter One: Introduction

Chapter Two

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 1320

Summary: In a world full of soulmates that can feel the others emotions, one would expect to know when their soulmate is hiding a secret.

“Move! Move! Move! We haven’t got all day people!” You shouted. You had approximately forty-five minutes to pack all your delicacies into the van and get them to the home of Kim Namjoon. Only the problem was that you were behind schedule, and his mansion was an hour’s drive away; that was assuming there would be no traffic. As quickly as you could, you helped your assistants bring the cupcakes to the company vans waiting to leave.

As the owner of the world renowned bakery, Winter Serendipity, you were constantly busy. If it were not for the large sum of money they Kim Namjoon was offering you, you would currently not be in a state of utter madness. Originally, you had rejected his request of your services because not only did you have a shop to run, but you also had months of pre-orders for upcoming events. It was only when he offered you ten thousand dollars that you accepted his request for 5,000 cupcakes. You weren’t told much except that over a thousand people would be attending the event and that you were to stay to introduce your food.

People seemed to love your food because, despite your ability to mass produce, your work always reflected the home feeling of warmth and love. You loved what you did even if it got stressful. The name of your bakery was inspired by your soulmate. Whoever it was was always with you. They could feel your emotions and you could feel theirs; all because of a simple mark on your inner forearm. Your mark, along with your mate’s, was in the shape of a small snowflake. It was a light blue, almost white color. The intricate patterns reflected the complex love and relationship you would have. Everyone was born with a soul mark. Each one was unique in its own way. Only you and your soulmate shared the mark. Through the mark, soulmates could feel the other’s emotions. This came in handy quite often for you and your soulmate. When you were stressed they often help your nerves by sending you waves of comfort. When they were angry you’d help to calm them down. You couldn’t wait to meet the person who had been with you your entire life. You didn’t know when it would happen, but something in your gut was telling you that it’d be soon.

As the last of the cupcakes were loaded into the vans, you got inside one and turned the engine on. You had to be there as soon as possible to set up. As soon as you pulled away from the bakery, your foot was on the gas. You had thirty seven minutes to get to the mansion. You wanted to curse yourself for running late.

Much to your displeasure, you were twenty nine minutes late and the staff was yelling at your staff, blaming them for the delay. You were about to yell at Mr. Kim’s personnel when a sudden wave of calmness washed over you. You knew it was your soulmate telling you to calm down, that everything would be alright. Taking a deep breath, you kindly spoke to the head organizer, explaining the situation “I’m sorry but it is my fault we are late” you said, speaking up for your workers “I’m afraid I had mixed up schedules and didn’t realize the event started at 5:00pm and not 6:00, please forgive me.” The woman just stared you down before turning around and giving orders left and right. You began helping the staff set up for the outdoor event.

Everything seemed perfect. Every blade of grass was cut to equal size and the hedges trimmed so that no leaf stood out. The fragrance of flowers wafted through the ornate acre of land. In the distance you could see where the scent was coming from. You were tempted to explore your surroundings but you knew it was best to stay and help set up. You felt the hint of amusement from your soulmate. They seemed to only make the temptation worse so you tried busying yourself with your cupcakes.


Kim Namjoon was a very busy man. In the eyes of the public, he was simply the CEO of Bangtan Industries. However, those within the company knew he was much more than that; he was the leader of the largest mafia organization in the country. Most thought him heartless but the six men and his soulmate knew that he actually cared about everyone’s well being.

At a young age, Namjoon had learned how to mask his emotions so that his soulmate wouldn’t know the pain he was in. At least, when it came down to his business. He was a calm and collected man, rarely getting angry. Instead, he was busy fussing about hiding his soul mark and keeping his mate happy. As the leader, of any rivals knew what his mark looked like, they would go out and find his mate, torture whoever it was just to get to him. He was glad that he had yet to meet his soulmate. The longer fate waited the less he’d have to worry about your safety. Long before he took over the business he had decided that his mate would never find out what he really did. Though at the same time, he was quite upset that he hasn’t crossed paths with his mate yet. He wanted to be there for them physically not just emotionally. He wanted to know what they looked like, what their personality was like, what their hobbies were. He wanted to know everything.

For now, he merely had a girlfriend for the public eye. He didn’t have to worry about rivals taking her because he knew that they knew he’d never risk a life for her. Most of the time she was too busy sleeping around with other men to be seen by the public. She was supposed to be at the event he was hosting tonight, but it appeared that she had other plans. He had seen her sneaking off with of the workers who was supposed to help set up.

That annoyed him but the feelings he was getting from his soulmate seemed to reduce that annoyance. He knew that his mate was frustrated and curious which he found was quite the amusing combination. He wished he could know what they were curious about. Sighing, he dressed in an expensive black silk suit. He paired the suit with a dark blue dress shirt and a black tie. His brown hair was styled to the side, a slight curl to his bangs. His watch, a silver Rolex, fit snugly on his wrist as he adjusted his jacket sleeves. Deeming himself ready, he glanced at the time. It was 4:30pm, time for him to head down and check on everything. Guests were sure to be arriving soon.


Sweat rolled down your forehead as you completed the last of the preparations. You wiped your sweat with the sleeve of your white jacket. You had rolled your sleeves up and discarded your apron in attempt to stay cool. Having your sleeves rolled up meant having your mark exposed but you didn’t mind. Nothing about your mark was something to be ashamed about and it was a good conversation starter.

Your cupcake display was all set up, beautifully showcasing each of the cupcakes unique decor. You were quite proud of your work.

One of Mr. Kim’s staff came up to you and wordlessly handed you a glass of lemonade. Before you could thank them, they turned and walked away. Sipping on the lemonade you noticed cars beginning to pull up as guests arrived. You quickly finished your drink and discarded the paper cup in a nearby trash can. Brushing your hands off you stood by your display, preparing for the onslaught of people coming to socialize and talk business.

040. vampire!yoongi

040. “our ac is out and it’s the middle of summer.”

If there had to be a time where you’d want to be a vampire more than ever, it would be during summertime. The scorching sun had no mercy for anyone and not even a little spare of dimming down when your AC is knocked the fuck out (thanks a lot LG, life isn’t too good now). Here there’s a drastic difference between how you and Yoongi deals with it. 

Him: leisurely reading a book by the sofa while you: underneath the fan with close to no clothing, on the floor with your arms spread out to beg for the heat to just go away.

Yoongi didn’t plan on saying anything but when you’re letting out a long groan as you roll about, he finally gives in and notices your attire… which doesn’t consist of much. The crop top of you have on rides up until your mid abdomen with shorts lining your hips down to your mid thighs. In other words, a lot of skin. He gulps and sits up, eyes pondering around to find yours as a distraction.

“Why do you sound like you’re being barbecued?” 

He doesn’t know if he should laugh when you let out a sad and much annoyed because I am! Soon after your emotions get the back from being roasted, simmering down to apologize meekly and add on with: “It’s just so hot… and this has got to be the worst time the AC to break down,”

Yoongi wasn’t too sure on how to deal with this and his facial expression says it all. The creasing of his forehead with the tips of his brows coming together to the middle like a half-done cross of disapproval only confirms that he must have no idea how it feels like. He almost sympathizes you.

“Is it that bad?”

“Well it’s-”His eyes widen when yours lock with his and they stay like that enough to put your words to a halt. With a hand raised up, your fingers beckon him over. If it wasn’t for the way you look like a dead fish begging for water on the surface of this summer oven living room, he wouldn’t oblige but now, he easily does so. He kneels down closely for you to cup his cheek and he’s certain the way your eyes turn to slits isn’t a good sign.

“Do you not sweat? At all? It’s forty degrees outside!”

Yoongi snorts and sits on the floor, crossing his legs as your hand slips from his face and onto his lap.

“It’s nothing,”

“Nothing?” You scoff, and even that feels hot, “I feel like dying already,”

“Maybe it’s time for you to turn immortal-”

The foot that nudges his knee is what sets him off cackling as you roll away from him, “Don’t even start.”

((”we’re never ever leaving here until summer is over,” you sigh in bliss, relishing on the fact that yoongi’s library has four air conditioning that all works from any possible angle. he only manages so much as to smile, watching as you lay on his sofa with a contended smile on your face.

it all gets ruined however when the door opens with a half hyu- coming out and it finishes with a sound of disbelief.

“are you for real? y/n gets to lay down on your sofa and i accidentally, god forbid let my ass touch it just a little and you broke my windshield?”

“what’s all the-wow hyung. favoritism is bloody high in here,”

“was that a pun?”

“…i think you should shut up,”

“and if the two of you still want to head home in one piece, get the fuck out.”))

47 Minutes

All right. Here is my fic for Hannah’s Writing Challenge! @hanny-bananny

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Quote: “If this is you, and you’re out there, come home. Please.”

*Edit made by @dontshootmespence*


They say there is no greater pain in life, no greater loss one can feel, than that of a child. To lose a parent is eventual and inevitable. To lose a loved one is tragic, but tolerable. To lose a friend is heartbreaking, but the ability to move on is still there.

But not with a child.

Parents always presume their children will be the ones burying them, not the other way around. Children are brought into this world as a blank slate, a new face, a continuation of their parents’ legacy. And when that new fire of life is snuffed out far before its time, there’s no coming back from that. Marriages seldom stay together. Husbands and wives find themselves unable to be around each other. If they couldn’t even protect their child, what business did they have pretending they could still be happy together?

Forty-seven minutes. That’s how long it had been. For forty-seven minutes, you held her in your arms, feeling her skin growing colder, hearing her tiny heartbeat growing fainter, listening as her short breaths slowly faded away. For forty-seven minutes, you were the perfect family: you, your husband, your child. For forty-seven minutes, you’d been everything you’d ever wanted to be in life: a mother.

And when that forty-seven minutes was up, they took her away from you. They wrenched her from your arms, apologizing over and over again, saying that continuing to see her like that would only make things worse. What did they know? How dare they speak to you like they even knew? How dare they take your child away from you before you even had a chance to truly appreciate her beauty? You didn’t care that she had been gone almost from the moment she came out of you. You didn’t care about the psychological damage that could occur from continuing to hold her lifeless body in your arms. She was your daughter. And all you wanted was time with her. Because now she was gone forever. And you would never get that time back.

In the days following your return from the hospital, you had been like a ghost in your own house. Not eating. Not sleeping. Not engaging in conversation with your husband. Not even really existing. You were just…there. On the days when you actually found the strength to get out of bed, you wandered aimlessly from room to room, each one bringing more pain than the last.

First there was the living room, where you had sat nearly nine months ago, anxious but excited, as you waited for Spencer to come home from work, the positive pregnancy test in your hands. Or the kitchen, where your crazy food cravings refused to let you sleep, and you and Spencer had stayed up all night eating ice cream and coming up with the most ridiculous-sounding names for your little nugget (Makierity Sixty-Four was your personal favorite). Or your bedroom, where you had felt the baby kick for the first time, and Spencer had actually started crying as he proclaimed that he’d never been so happy in his entire life. Or the nursery, where the two of you had spent hours trying to put together the impossible-to-build crib only to have Morgan come by and assemble the damn thing in less than twenty minutes.

All of it, all of those beautiful memories, all of the good and the pure associated with those rooms, all of it was gone now.

But that wasn’t as heart-wrenching as the guilt that piled up in the pit of your stomach any time you looked into Spencer’s eyes. You had always hoped that your child would get his eyes. So bright and beautiful. They always had made you feel like you were the only person in a crowded room when he looked at you with them. They were gentle eyes full of love and compassion, both traits that Spencer had in abundance. You had always loved how they would soften when he would talk to the baby at night, filling its head with all kinds of wonderful stories and mind-blowing statistics. If he wasn’t careful, you would have another little genius on your hands.

But now, those eyes appeared lost and dazed. The hope in them had burned out. Now when you looked into them (something you found yourself doing less and less of as of late), you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else lurking behind the dark irises. Something past the pain and the heartache. And it was with this observation that you began to question: Does he blame me for what happened?

Now you knew Spencer would never say anything of the sort to you. After all, he’d been doing everything in his power to try to bring you out of your slump, even though you could tell it was taking everything in him not to fall apart completely. He’d had members of his team come by to try and cheer you up. JJ informed you that she, too, had suffered a miscarriage, and Hotch you knew had lost his wife to a serial killer. And while both of those were tragic in and of themselves, neither of them could truly understand the pain you experienced carrying someone inside of you for nine months only to lose them moments after bringing them into this world.

Forty-seven minutes. That’s all the protection you could provide her. Forty-seven fucking minutes.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be stuck in a house with someone who had taken away the one thing he wanted most. You knew early on that Spencer wanted to be a dad. You saw how much he loved and adored his godson Henry, and you wanted nothing more than the chance to give that to him. He deserved some bit of happiness to counteract with all the trauma he had endured in his life (you didn’t know all of it, but you knew enough to know that boy had suffered enough sadness to last him a lifetime).

But you couldn’t even do that. And that’s why you had to leave.

You waited until Spencer had left for work. He only recently started going back, and you were glad that he would have something to help distract him from everything that had been going on. Maybe with luck, he’d have a case which would permit him to be gone for a few days, giving you both time to clear your heads. Maybe when he came home and found you weren’t there, maybe you would both realize this was for the better. After all, why keep around someone who’s only going to cause you grief?

Leaving behind nothing but a hastily scribbled note stating that you were fine and that it would be in his best interest not to come looking for you, you set out. Where were you going? What was your plan? If you ever did plan to return, when would that be? All these were questions you hoped to answer while you were gone.

However, that was three days ago. And now you were currently sitting in a motel about twenty miles out of DC with no plans of where to go and what your endgame was. Your phone had been ringing so much that you finally turned the damn thing off, unable to listen to it anymore. Maybe thirty missed calls would give Spencer the hint that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. You just wanted to be alone. Alone to stew in your thoughts.

But after three days of drinking yourself nearly into a coma in this stuffy, ratty motel room, you couldn’t stand the isolation anymore. You needed to get out and go somewhere. Anywhere. Anyplace that had people. People who didn’t know you. People who would look at you with something other than sadness and pity. A place where you could start over and forget about the pain you had caused back home in Virginia.

As you loaded your bags into the back of the car and debated for a moment whether or not you should bother turning your phone back on, you heard a sudden beep coming from the glove box. There was only one thing in there that would be beeping like that, but there’s no way it was activated. You never gave that number out. There’s no way anyone would have called it…

You slowly reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out the old flip phone nestled underneath old receipts, insurance papers, and other random brochures you and Spencer had accumulated over the years. For the past few years, you had kept a separate phone in your car in case of emergencies only. You’d heard enough horror stories from Spencer about bad things happening to people stuck on the side of the road with a dead car battery and, even worse, a dead phone battery. Not wanting to ever find yourself in that situation, you always made sure to have your back up phone charged just in case the time called for it.

But you never gave the number out. You doubted Spencer even knew you had it. Not that you didn’t trust him, but you felt that the less people knew about it, the less chance there was of it ever going missing or being stolen. And yet, here it was, beeping up at you, flashing the message “1 New Voicemail.”

Probably just a wrong number, you thought to yourself. Someone calling looking for someone else. Or a telemarketer trying to sell me something. It’s nothing. I should just delete it.

But as your finger hovered over the ‘Delete’ button, curiosity got the best of you. Might as well see what this mystery caller wanted right? You’d had barely any human contact for the past three days. Might be nice to hear another voice.

However, as you hit the play button and brought the phone to your ear, your jaw instantly dropped and tears formed in your eyes as you heard your husband’s voice come through the speaker, sounding pained and choked with emotion.

“Y/N? I…I hope this is you. I had Garcia do some digging and she found this number registered in your name. Your maiden name. I take it you’ve had it for a while then. I figured it must be for emergencies or something, but that doesn’t matter right now. I just need you to hear me. I just need to tell you that…I miss you. I miss you so much. And also to tell you that…I understand why you left.

“I know everyone can say that they understand your pain and that they know what you’re going through, but they don’t. No one truly understands your pain like you do. Even I don’t, and I hate that I don’t. I saw the hurt in your eyes every time you looked at me. And I hated that I couldn’t take it away. I hated that you were in so much pain, and that I couldn’t fix it. Believe me, I wish that our lives had turned out the way we wanted. You, me, our daughter. One happy family.

“But maybe that wasn’t what our life was meant to be. I know it’s hard to hear it, sweetheart, but sometimes that’s how things go. What’s most important to know is that this wasn’t your fault. No part of this was your fault. And if that’s what you’re afraid of, I want to assure you that I don’t blame you, Y/N. I never blamed you, and I never will blame you. What you gave me was the most beautiful thing anyone could ever ask for. It may have been brief, but it was perfect. That moment…those few minutes with our daughter…they were perfect.

“And maybe one day we’ll get that moment back. Maybe one day we’ll get to try again. But even if we don’t, that’s okay too. Because if this whole situation has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you. All I really need to be truly happy is you. And though it may seem like this ache will never go away, I promise you it will. I promise that I will never stop loving you, and I promise that we can get through this. Together.

“Please, Y/N. If this is you and you’re out there, come home. Please. Come back home to me. I have nothing in my life if I don’t have you. I love you so much, and I want to help make this right. If you get this, if you’re listening…remember that I love you. Always have, always will.”

The message ended, but you hardly noticed as you sunk forward in your seat, your face buried in your hands, as sobs wracked your body. You always knew that Spencer had loved you unconditionally, but to hear it all laid out there like that…you couldn’t understand why you even left in the first place. How could you have left someone like that? How could you have believed a man like that would ever blame you for something you both knew deep down wasn’t truly your fault? How could you even be considering leaving behind the best thing to ever happen to you?

When you had lost your daughter, you thought your life was over. You thought there was no way either of you could ever come back from this. But you had evidently severely underestimated your husband and all the good he truly had to offer you. He didn’t blame you. He wasn’t angry about what happened. All he wanted was you, back in his arms, safely. Who were you to deny him that? Who were you to walk away from a love like that?

You glanced down at the glittering band on your left hand. You’d always said that you would never give your heart away to just anyone. It had to be someone truly special. Someone who would never hurt you like you’d been hurt in the past. And you knew, five years ago, when Spencer had slipped that band over your finger, when he had made that promise to love you for better or for worse, you always assumed he would mean it. And now this was it. This was the proof you needed. For better or for worse. That’s what you had told each other.

It took some time to calm yourself down, but once your crying had stopped, you found your mind to be clear. You knew what you had to do now. This self-destruction was getting nowhere. You knew the healing process was going to be long and it was going to be hard. But you also knew that with your sweet, loving husband by your side, there was nothing you two couldn’t overcome, so long as you overcame it together.

It was late when you finally pulled into the driveway. You half-expected Spencer to be asleep, or maybe even still at work. You knew how he had a tendency to stay late when his head was too full and he wasn’t ready to face home. However, to your surprise, as you got out of the car, the porch light suddenly flicked on. Seconds later, the front door creaked open, and there he stood, looking about as disheveled as you (clearly neither of you had been doing a lot of sleeping lately). But as you stepped closer, you saw it: for the first time since this all happened, his eyes lit up at the sight of you. As if nothing brought him more joy than the sight of you right here, right now.

“Y/N…” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe you were really here. You opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself unable, and instead fell gratefully into his welcoming arms. And as he held you tightly, nuzzling his head into your neck, as you sobbed on his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life, you realized that this was truly where you belonged. Things would get better in the end, so long as you had Spencer.

It may have taken forty-seven minutes for you to lose your child, but it only took about forty-seven seconds for you to realize that not all had been truly lost in the world.

60 Day Weight Loss Challenge

Going to be doing this because why not?

Day one: How tall are you, what do you currently weigh, and what do you hope to weigh after the 60 days? (Be realistic).
Day two: What is your MAIN reason for wanting to lose weight? (Be honest.)
Day three: Do you count calories? What is your daily calorie goal/allowance?
Day four: Do you work out? How many times a week?
Day five: Is there any specific event you want to lose the weight for?
Day six: Have you ever been overweight or underweight?
Day seven: Do your friends and family know you are trying to lose weight?

Week Two!
Weekly challenge: Get organised! Try to plan tomorrow’s meal the night before.

Day eight: Name 5 things you like about your body (you can do it) and the one body part you’d like to change the most.
Day nine: What is your favourite food, healthy or unhealthy.
Day ten: Do you eat breakfast? What do you usually have?
Day eleven: What are your family’s eating habits like?
Day twelve: What are your friend’s eating habits like?
Day thirteen: Is your diet ever negatively influenced by your friends? Do they pressure/tempt you to eat unhealthy food?
Day fourteen: Do you ever allow yourself a “rest day” from exercise or a “cheat day” from your diet?

Week three!
Weekly challenge: Add an extra 30 minutes to each work out this week, or if you weren’t going to work out at all one day, work out for 30 minutes!

Day fifteen: What is your favourite kind of exercise?
Day sixteen: Have you ever missed a work out just because you couldn’t be bothered?
Day seventeen: Have you ever been called fat? Or skinny?
Day eighteen: Do you have to eat any meals with your family? Are they for or against your diet?
Day nineteen: Have you ever lied to avoid eating something?
Day twenty: Do you binge? How often and what triggers it?
Day twenty-one: Do you listen to music when you work out?

Week four!
Weekly challenge: Switch up your diet. Try one fruit and one vegetable you’ve never tried before, and learn how to cook a new healthy meal.

Day twenty-two: Are you generally smaller or larger than your friends?
Day twenty-three: Do you feel that your weight holds you back socially?
Day twenty-four: Is losing weight one of your top priorities in life?
Day twenty-five: Do you ever eat fast food?
Day twenty-six: Do you drink alcohol? What do you generally drink?
Day twenty-seven: Does shark week make you hungrier than usual, and do you allow yourself to eat more at this time of the month?
Day twenty-eight: Are there any foods or drinks that you have completely banned yourself from consuming, or do you believe in everything in moderation?

Week five!
Weekly challenge: Go and buy yourself a nice item of clothing one size too small, hang it somewhere visible. Think about how good it will feel when you can fit it!

Day twenty-nine: What is your current weight? Have you lost, gained, or maintained your weight since day one?
Day thirty: Do you have rewards for reaching goal weight? What are they?
Day thirty-one: What are your favourite healthy snacks?
Day thirty-two: What is your weakness/one food you just can’t say no to?
Day thirty-three: Will you continue to count calories once you reach your ultimate goal weight?
Day thirty-four: Will you continue with the same exercise routine once you reach your ultimate goal weight?
Day thirty-five: Do you mainly do cardio, strength training, or both?

Week six!
Weekly challenge: Focus on one area of your body (eg. Arms/abs) and work hard on it every day of the week, I bet you’ll see a difference after 7 days!

Day thirty-six: What’s one item of clothing you’d like to wear after losing weight?
Day thirty-seven: What do you wear when you go swimming/to the beach?
Day thirty-eight: What do you generally order if you have to eat out at a restaurant?
Day thirty-nine: What has been the hardest thing you’ve had to give up?
Day forty: Have you gained weight at any point of your journey? How did this effect you?
Day forty-one: Do you drink tea or coffee?
Day forty-two: What is the meaning of life? Just kidding. If you feel happy with the way your body looks before you reach your ultimate goal weight, will you continue to try and lose weight, or will you aim to maintain?

Week 7!
Weekly challenge: Aim to have a completely “clean food” week, avoid all processed food!

Day forty-three: Apart from weight loss, have you noticed any other benefits from your healthy diet?
Day forty-four: Do you drink green tea? (If you don’t you should. Seriously.)
Day forty-five: Who is your main inspiration to lose weight? Not a celebrity, someone from real life.
Day forty-six: Do you have a favourite motivational quote?
Day forty-seven: Have you ever come close to giving up? What made you change your mind?
Day forty-eight: Did you start losing weight before making your blog?
Day forty-nine: What’s the stupidest thing you’ve done in an attempt to lose weight?

Week 8!
Weekly challenge: Treat yourself. You’ve come so far already! Even if you haven’t lost any weight, you deserve to treat yourself for not giving up. Paint your nails, go shopping, go to a movie, get your hair done, anything that makes you feel good about yourself!

Day fifty: What’s the most calories you’ve consumed in one day? Why?
Day fifty-one: What’s the least calories you’ve consumed in one day? Why?
Day fifty-three: What’s something you’ve done to make yourself proud?
Day fifty-four: Can you see any noticeable changes in your body?
Day fifty-five: Do you believe this is a lifestyle change, and you will be able to continue with a healthy, active lifestyle for the rest of your life?
Day fifty-six: What have you enjoyed most about your weight loss journey?
Day fifty-seven: What is your current weight? Have you lost any weight since day one?

Costume Ideas (Spideypool)

So a few weeks ago I received a Spideypool prompt about them trying on different costumes and I lost it and I dont remember who submitted it, but if it was you– I finally wrote it! Its a little different than the prompt, and I tried to be funny but apparently I cant write these too goofballs without getting all feels and fluff with it so here you guys go lol Mind the Cut.

(A.G. is Spidey)

Happy Halloween!


“What do you think?” Wade waited in the doorway impatiently for Peter to look up. “Babe, pay attention! I’m trying to decide what to wear for that party tonight!”

“I’m not going to look up.” Peter replied calmly without putting his book down. “Because that is literally the sluttiest Wonder Woman costume I’ve ever seen. I don’t even think strippers would wear that, Wade. Go take it off and put something else on, we are not going out in public like that.”

Wade looked down at himself critically. “I see nothing wrong with this. Also, Her Majesty Diana would object to being called a slut.”

“I’m not calling her a slut.” Peter turned a page and took a sip of his water. “I’m saying you look like a slutty version of a knock off of my favorite super hero and future wife. Go take it off.”

“I think you’re a prude!” Wade announced and turned on his heel, thigh high red and blue boots making the movement quite a bit less graceful. “I would win costume contests like this!”

“You will be arrested like that!” Peter retorted. “Put something else on!”

“She’s not your future wife!” Wade yelled from the bedroom. “She won’t want you after I get done with you!”

Peter rolled his eyes and turned another page in his book.


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