i still want to make a graphic of this because sob

anonymous asked:

If you have the time and if you don't mind, what are some books you really recommend? Doesn't have to be all time faves, but anything that pops into mind that you want more ppl to read and love, Extra points if lgbt+ , i got the whole summer with little to do and i wanna spend it reading some good quality writing and honestly so far your recs have introduced me to so many faves its unbelievable

[blushes profusely] oh wow, thank you!!!  i’m so glad you’ve trusted me enough to check out some of the stuff i reblog; that is like the ultimate compliment, i can’t even???  i don’t mind at all(!), fair warning though: i only started recording what i read partway through last year and my mind is like a sieve so i’ll do my absolute best to remember what’s sang to me in the recent past.  warning number two: i’m in an open relationship with absolutely every genre out there so i’ll try to note which belongs where so you can avoid those that hold no interest for you.


  • i’ll give you the sun.  i loved this book, the writing is fucking transformative and all the characters are so damn likable, while still being realistically flawed human beings.
  • the raven cycle (tetralogy).  definitely my favorite series since harry potter.  the writing, the world-building, the characters, it’s all on top-form.  i wrote a little, mini non-spoilery review of it: here, back when i was better (worse?) wordly-wise and my feels were brand new.
  • more happy than not.  i’m still not sure how i feel about this book.  it was hard, but it felt very true to the characters and the lingo and style matched the ages of the players and i have a lot of respect for that.
  • the watchmaker of filigree street.  woooow i loved this book.  i admit ‘historical fiction’ kind of makes me cringe.  it never precludes me from reading a book but it does knock it down the list by a book or five because they’re often very dense and very clunky and end up taking me ages to get through.  but this one was gorgeous.  i loved the plot, the attention lovingly placed on every character and the historical elements.  the surprise gay in an already brilliant book felt like winning the lottery honestly.
  • captive prince (trilogy).  okay, truthfully, i’m only putting this on here because the second book is such a high point for me.  it was never bad at any point but it had unfortunately been hyped far too much for it to live up to my, admittedly, very high expectations.  hopefully it’ll fare better with you?
  • everything i never told you.  i go back and forth on this one.  i like the writing a lot, i like the LGBT aspect a lot, and i like the mystery aspect a lot but there are definitely characters i would cut out entirely for sheer predictability if i could and that killed a lot of my enjoyment at the time (but i think much more highly of it in retrospect?).  so, take that as you like.
  • aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe.  if there’s a book that handles its characters with more care or respect or consideration then i haven’t run into it.  i love the way this is written and the people it’s populated with.
  • flying lessons & other stories.  a bunch of uber talented authors writing a bunch of uber diverse and LGBT-focused stories and, yes, that is exactly as awesome as it sounds.
  • the song of achilles.  it is utterly heart-breaking but so rich, honestly.


  • the diviners.  (also has a minor LGBT character, who may play a bigger role in the sequel?)  fair warning, i have not read the sequel, lair of dreams, because it is somehow still not out in paperback (yes, i read physical books, yes, i pretty exclusively read paperbacks so i can lug them everywhere with me, YES, I PRE-ORDERED THIS ALMOST TWO YEARS AGO AND IT’S STILL NOT OUT, NOT THAT I’M BITTER ABOUT THAT OR ANYTHING) so i can’t speak to that one finishing on a high note as i don’t know.  but this was the first historical novel i managed to like in a long while.  it does such a good job of fusing in 1920s lingo and dress and aspects that i couldn’t help but love it.  add in the fantasy elements and i can admit i’m the perfect sucker for it.
  • the scorpio races.  i’m not sure why but it took me a long-ass time to get into this book, i wasn’t flipping pages with gusto until well towards the end but - especially as i was reading so much YA at the time - i really appreciated coming across a romance that lets both people come into it as themselves and stay themselves, neither puck nor sean were ever smashed or crumpled or shaved away to fit into their relationship, which was so refreshing.  plus the water horses were fucking cool.
  • the night circus.  the writing, the atmosphere, the circus.  just… it is all very whoa.
  • all the birds in the sky.  i loved this writing style and these characters and the magical elements.


  • i’ll meet you there.  there was something about this and i just… ended up liking it way more than i expected to.  i might’ve just read it at exactly the right time, i’m not sure, but i really enjoyed it.
  • the invoice.  this is honestly just hella cute and so freaking surreal.  swedes, man.


  • why not me?  i like mindy kaling a lot.  i make no apologies for that.  plus you can read both her books in about five seconds, haha.


  • station eleven.  i loved this book.  the way the narrative is woven is so refreshing and i wish the comic book miranda was writing in this book was a real thing more than anything else in the woooorld.
  • illuminae.  hot DAMN this book was cool.  the plot was rock solid, the characters were hilarious and badass and the graphics made out of text and spiraling words and just the way this thing is put together?  shit, it’s worth your money and then some.
  • a robot in the garden.  okay this is just cute as hell.  i can’t even with tang, he’s the most adorable robot to ever adorable.
  • annihilation (southern reach trilogy).  (LGBT minor characters.)  okay, honestly?  i don’t know.  this was freaking zany but i was invested as fuck in all the kookiness for reasons i can’t articulately elaborate on.
  • the martian.  hilarious, engaging, SPACE.  what more do you want?


  • things we lost in the fire.  this is more atmospheric than anything but, damn, could this get me wishing i wasn’t reading this in the dark or looking over my shoulder to make absolutely sure no one was standing behind me.  it’s a book of short stories (by the way, i love books of short stories and i definitely realize that is not true for everyone) and each one is so well-delivered and stylized.  i really enjoyed reading this.
  • let the right one in.  okay, this is legit horror so definitely stay away if you’re easily squicked out but it is harrrrrd to find good horror (at least in my opinion) and this definitely, definitely qualifies.
  • horrorstör.  i honestly had such low expectations for this, a horror story set in a wannabe-ikea, but it ended up being so ridiculous and strange and funny that i was won over by the finish.
  • the girl with all the gifts.  holy unique and well-executed zombie idea, batman!


  • the bigness of the world.  there were definitely ones here that hit better than others but the ones i liked, i really liked!

GRAPHIC NOVELS (i read a lot of these so, um, prepare yourself)

  • saga.  (LGBT minor characters as well.)  this is world-building to a degree that i’m convinced did not exist before.  just, i can’t say enough amazing things about this series and the staggering amount of imagination that regularly goes into it.
  • ms. marvel.  heart-warming as fuck.  it’s definitely really easy to lose faith in the world these days, luckily kamala is there to remind you that people are primarily and genuinely good.
  • black science.  this is another one that took just an insane amount of imagination to cook up.  i got off to kind of a rocky start with this one but the gray-ness of all the characters really speaks to me, and that doesn’t really blossom until later in the series.
  • spider-man/deadpool.  this was very satisfying for my super duper spideypool-shipping mind.  joe and ed did us so good, and joe basically said in his sign-off: i made it absolutely as gay as they would let me, haha.
  • the wicked + the divine.  (LGBT minor characters that you’re going to get way too attached to, and retroactively.  it’s awful [sobs].)  the concept for this, gods reincarnating into teenagers before they burn up their hosts after a predetermined set of time, is so fucking cool.  the humor and the characters and the plot is all just aces.
  • iceman (LGBT MAIN CHARACTER).  okay, so this just started.  like issue #2 was only released days ago but 1) i am liking it so far and 2) marvel did it so dirty and barely advertised bobby - an openly homosexual superhero - was getting his own series, like, i found out about it the day before it went on sale and i keep my ear fairly close to the ground (not as close as some BY A LOT, but closer than the lay person i’d say) so if you can support it, please do!  pre-orders mean a lot in terms of numbers. :))))
  • descender.  admittedly, this starts out rooough.  because the main character, TIM-21 (and his little dog too), are annoying as hell.  he’s an android so there’s no dimension to him so he’s booooring as all get out but i am so glad i stuck with it through to the next trade because, probably picking up on the unsustainability of him as a main character, he gets shuffled off and the side characters get the stage and they rock so hard.
  • paper girls. (LGBT main characters.)  i’m kind of just convinced that brian k. vaughan can do no wrong at this point.  his plots are so tight and mind-blowing and badass.
  • monstress.  here’s a little tid-bit about me: female comic book writers are 100% more likely to get my money and my time because they are so damn rare and this series is unique, badass, and eye-opening.
  • black monday murders.  i’m a little premature with this since there’s only one volume and i usually try to wait until there are at least two but i check up on a volume two a lot so that definitely means something intrigued me!
  • nailbiter.  okay, i haven’t read the final volume yet ‘cause i’m reluctant to let it go but, so far, a series about multiple serial killers all being from the same town has me VERY HOOKED.

i wish i could remember more but this is honestly way better than i expected to do, haha.  they’re definitely not all my all-time faves but they’re ones that have stuck with me for one reason or another and that i didn’t feel i wasted my time on, so that’s something, right?  i hope this helps get you started and that you don’t think too awfully of me when you inevitably run across ones that aren’t your cup of tea!

13 | You’ll Never Walk Alone



series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence, gruesome torture, death, blood, wound details and grief

Originally posted by manwalage

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From The Dining Table - Harry Styles AU

Warnings: smut 

Summary: Where Harry really fucked up.

A/N: I’m sorry if there’s any grammar errors ! This is my first AU writing and I work really hard on this one, I hope you enjoy it ! (P.S GIF’s not mine)

Words: 1,844

PART 1 // PART 2

“Argh… Fuck.” Harry moaned, his hands were under his pants pumping his dick faster and faster until he reaches his climax, the hotel room are very quiet and cold. He made his way to the bathroom to shower and clean himself, the warm water are dripping all over his tense body, he’s been very lonely. He have been very busy with the debut album, everything is very exhausting that he forgot about [Y/N]. 

Tall skinny body, brown glowy skin, wavy hair she is so beautiful that Harry is confused why the hell she’s not a freaking super model. They have broken up months ago, but he’s still not over it yet, Harry found himself still thinking about her but Harry is positive that [Y/N] is 100% over him. He walked out of the shower after he finished drying his hair, because it became a routine ever since [Y/N] told him that it’s not good to sleep with your hair dripping wet. Harry misses her so much that it hurts his whole body, especially his chest. He misses her Tom Ford perfume Harry had gifted to her because the scent of that perfume just reminds him of [Y/N], the screaming that came from the dining table while she works on her job that is graphic design because she forgot to add another layer, coming home to her playing the grand piano, and the way she took care of him 

until he can’t take it, so he called her. 

“Hello?” Her voice are raspy, she sounds like she just got out of bed then Harry checked the digital clock that is beside his bed 

02:32 AM Crap. 

He thought, he forgot that it’s two in the freaking morning 

“Who the fuck is this?” She continued “It’s- It’s Ha- Harry.” Harry stutters “Why the hell are you calling me in this hour?! Can’t it wait tomorrow?”

 "Can- Can I come to your apartment?“ 

“In this hour? Hell no Styles.” She answered “Please [Y/N]?” She didn’t answer him for a couple seconds but then she agreed “Fine.”

 "Thanks Love.“ The nickname definitely slips out of his mouth, he didn’t mean to call her that, after he hung up he put on some clothes, took his keys and immediately drive to [Y/N]’s apartment. 

When he arrived at the white building he immediately made his way inside and went to the receptionist desk but he found the staff sleeping with his head rested on the wooden table so he went upstairs without leaving his ID at the receptionist desk. 

The elevator dinged when it arrived at the third floor, he walked outside and began to find [Y/N]’s apartment door. 

0703.The sign on the black door said, he knocked it a couple times but there is no sign that [Y/N] is making her way to the door, so he open up the door; it’s unlocked

 "God Damn it [Y/N].” He went inside quickly and walk straight to [Y/N]’s room and he’s never been so relieved in his life to see her sleeping safely in her bedroom, he sat at the small red couch beside her bed, watching someone while sleeping is overused and mainstream but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the beautiful girl that is sleeping. After a couple minute watching her sleeping quietly Harry decided to go out of the room to get some water but Harry being the clumsy guy he is, he accidentally run in to her nightstand and knocked up a little night lamp “Fuck.” He hisses quietly 

“What the…” [Y/N] is awake by the time Harry clutching on his toes “I’m ver-very sorry, please go back to sleep.” He didn’t know what to say, It’s been months since the last time they saw each other “No, I just- you really came here.” She said

 "I did.“ He nodded, [Y/N] sighed and sit up "Why do you came here? It’s like in the middle of the night! This is so weird you are my ex boyfriend and-" 

"You didn’t lock your door, that’s dangerous.” He cut off her sentence 

“It’s not like I have something worth thousands of dollars inside this crappy apartment.” She answered “But they can hurt you.”

 "Why do you care Harry? Just go home okay, get some sleep I’m sure you have a lot of things to do tomorrow.“ She’s always been the type of girl that is not into complicated drama, if there’s a problem or a conflict she’ll try to fix it right away leaving the drama out of it 

"But I miss you.” That. There’s the words that Harry has been dying to say to her 

“Just go home okay H?” The nickname, she didn’t mean for it to slip out of her lips “There’s no alcohol in this world that can sink in the chest pain I am having every time I think about you.”

 "Go home Drama Queen, you don’t get to say that after leaving me with no phone call or text after the break up.“ She lay down and turn to the other side "I’m sorry [Y/N]." 

"You are forgiven, now go home get some sleep.” Harry sighed and sit at the edge of her bed, she’s never been the one that have a lot of money, she rarely treated herself, she hardly want to buy anything because her job didn’t pay her that well and Harry miss the time he can spoil her with anything even though she didn’t like it when people buy her things 

“Can I sleep here? On the couch?” He asked her “What ever I don’t care.” She coldly answered, Harry nodded despite the fact that she can’t see him so he took of his shoes and shirt leaving him with the dark grey sweatpants he is wearing and try to lay down on the couch and slowly he fell asleep. 

After about fifteen minuted being half asleep Harry are woken up by a sound of someone sobbing quietly, Harry immediately sit up and went over to the bed to check on [Y/N] 

“[Y/N]?” He whispered, she looked a little shocked “God damn it H, I thought you were asleep.” She rasp “I was.” Harry’s fingers are wiping the tears that is staining her beautiful face “Why are you crying? Tell me [Y/N].”

 "It’s just- It’s just that you don’t get to come here, calling in the middle of the night out of nowhere after you decided that you missed me! I have been missing you this whole time but I can’t just call you and tell you that I missed you! You can’t do that Harry that’s not fucking fair!“ She shouted, clutching on to the pillow she’s hugging, the familiar pain sensation spreading across his chest "I’m so sorry darling, that it took me a lot of time to realize that I missed you,” she shooked her head while the tears keep streaming out of her eyes, Harry tugged the wavy hair on to the back of her ears “Come one Love, show me your beautiful face,” She always falls for his charms, the way he talk to her made her knees weak, and somehow she always agree to do what he says as if she’s compelled she should be hating him after all of the things he did to her but as you can see now she’s letting him in again 

“There you go.” he began to dry the tears from her face and lay down beside her “I thought, maybe one day you’d call me and tell me that you’re sorry too. I waited Harry and God, I hate myself so much for getting my hopes up. It hurts H.”

 "I’m sorry, I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m here now, I’m not leaving you not again, not anymore,“ Harry lay down beside her and play with her hair from the back, he know that [Y/N] will be fast asleep if Harry played with her hair "I love you [Y/N], now sleep my love. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

 Harry woke up with [Y/N] sleeping quietly beside him facing the big and dirty window, Harry didn’t have her wrapped around his arms because cuddles won’t instantly fix them, Harry don’t think that it’s what [Y/N] wanted, so he gave her space; just like what she wanted. It’s been a very long time since Harry came to this apartment, the last time he came here was before [Y/N] move to his apartment and help her packs up her things. Harry slowly sit up and walk outside her room to get something to eat, he went to the kitchen and open up the fridge; it doesn’t have anything unless two bottles of wine and Chinese food leftovers that is probably not edible by now Harry wants to go out and buy something to eat for both of them but he promised her when she wakes up he’s going to be right here.

 [Y/N] woke up facing the window, she roll over and found the space beside her empty. She sighs knowing that this would happen, and how she shouldn’t get her hopes up that Harry would stay the night. She checked her nightstand and no, he didn’t left any notes she told herself to get over it and get ready to start the day. 

Harry heard a shuffling in [Y/N]’s room and decided to check her, as he walk inside her room he saw her in a plain black bra set “JESUS!” She screamed and cover herself with a blanket “It’s nothing I haven’t see [Y/N].” He smirked “I thought you left.” She walk over to her the other side of her bed-still in her underwear and put on some clothes, Harry can’t stop staring at her, her body-god her body is amazing “I’m a man of my words [Y/N],” Harry answered [Y/N] respond him by rolling her eyes

 "Where are you going?“ He asked seeing her putting on a jeans and a grey sweater that looks like it’s Harry’s "Work, where else?” She answered 

“Skip work.” He said, [Y/N] shook her head and laugh coldly “You think I can just skip work? I’m not like you okay?” She went to the desk and put her laptop and the charger inside her black Saint Laurent bag Harry bought for her when he was in New York “Please? It’s just one day!”

 "No, I got paid only seven dollar per hour because I’m on training. I can’t lose this job Harry,“ she walk outside her bedroom putting on a black converse and walk to the door "Go home, you don’t have to lock the door on your way out.” She slammed shut the door leaving confused Harry and her heart at the green eyed man she loved so much. 

silly-fuzzy-babies  asked:

1/2 Hello! I'm writing a sort of fantasy story/series, and the (white) main character is Fae, which is a species of kinda ethereal non-humans. There's a subplot and a lot of little anecdotes about the prejudice she and her father face in mostly human London for being visibly fae. But of course, what my main character experiences may seem a lot like racism, but it isn't - especially because the Fae are literally not people, and feel compassion and emotions in entirely different ways, and are

simply not human, and a lot of the prejudice they encounter is based around that. How do I avoid drawing analogies which suggest that PoC are less human?Secondly, there are dwarves in this fantasy series. A family of dwarves who are quite prominent in the story are Black (originally Djerban, I think) and Jewish. I know that a lot of dwarf tropes in fantasy stem from stereotypes of Jewish people, and I’d like to know how to make sure I don’t stray into those tropes. Thank you for your help!

White-coded Fae + North African Jewish-coded Dwarves

I’d love for you to trace the thought process that led your imagination to come up with a plot where the “pretty” supernatural characters are coded white (and gentile) and the, well, less-pretty supernatural characters are coded as North African Jews.

This is the heroine of The Rabbi’s Cat, a graphic novel starring Jewish Algerians and their weird cat.

The Rabbi’s Cat is by a Jewish author. I just wanted to put that image in your mind for a second.

“How do I avoid drawing analogies which suggest that PoC are less human?”

Human characters of color are the best way to establish that your Fae really are something else and not a metaphor for PoC. in my opinion.

>> A family of dwarves who are quite prominent in the story are Black (originally Djerban, I think) and Jewish. I know that a lot of dwarf tropes in fantasy stem from stereotypes of Jewish people, and I’d like to know how to make sure I don’t stray into those tropes.

Why are they Jewish in the first place, then? A piece without Jewish human characters doesn’t really need Jewish dwarves, especially if there aren’t gentile dwarves alongside them. Caveat that if you’re writing from inside the community I have less of a problem with it because this is our nonsense to reclaim if we want.

So, your options if you don’t want to have people go “….why….” are:

  • Add Jewish humans alongside the Jewish dwarves (or, alternatively, Jewish fae, we never get to be fae… we never get to be anything beautiful like mermaids or fairies or whatever. Dwarves. Lovely. *sobs into knitting project*)
  • Make the dwarves not Jewish – is there a plot reason they need to be Jewish?

The “dwarf=Jew” trope comes from these stereotypes:

  • short
  • hairy
  • clannish/unfriendly to outsiders without ever bothering to justify, oh, why a marginalized group might do that
  • avaricious/super into treasure and riches

And possibly a little harder to pick apart, but a weird smoothie of antisemitism/misogyny/transphobia in which our women are supposedly too hairy and too loud to be feminine (which is double bull because women can be as hairy as they want and still be feminine, and nothing’s wrong with being a masculine woman, either.)

So those are the specific tropes you’d want to avoid. But I’d say if you’re gentile, writing Jewish dwarves into a story that doesn’t have any non-dwarf Jews just seems like giving yourself a lot of extra work trying to stay out of the Sarlacc’s mouth. Ya know?


Three Times

Parings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: I don’t want to ruin the end of the story so I’m not gonna warn. There’s nothing really triggering or graphic in here though

Word Count: 1054

Summary: There was only three times in your life that you’d ever felt truly terrified.

Request: Could you do prompt number 8 with Steve Rogers :)

A/N: I had fun writing this one so I really hope you all enjoy it x 

There was only three times in your life that you’d ever felt truly terrified.

A bone chilling fear that crept into the very center of your chest and made you feel like you couldn’t breathe properly. A mind numbing feeling that made your body shake of its own accord, your heart thumping so hard against your rib cage that you were sure it might break a bone or two.

The first time was a year after you joined the Avengers, six months into your relationship with Steve. The two of you had been on a recon mission, limited weapons, no back up and no clear route back to the quinjet after you’d been surprised with an ambush. Steve was losing an alarmingly large amount of blood from the wound on his abdomen and you weren’t sure what to do.

Honestly, you’d never seen him look so pale, his bottom lip quivering with each shaky breath he took, his face scrunched up in pain. For a while you’d attempted holding him up as you struggled further into the dense forest, but it wasn’t long before you had to stop. You were out of breath and that man was heavy!

After that you stayed by his side, feebly holding your hands against the open wound in hopes that it’d stop bleeding, that somehow the super soldier serum running through his veins would all of a sudden heal the wound right up. When that didn’t happen though and you saw Steve faltering before your eyes you felt it. The first true touch of fear as it choked you, blurring your eyes with tears. You had sobbed against Steve and begged him not to die on you, that you didn’t want to keep doing this without him. He ended up being the one comforting you, go figure.

 By the time you heard the roar of the quinjet above you Steve had lost consciousness, your hands still pressing painfully hard against his wound despite the blood still seeping through your finger tips. You’d never been more thankful for anything in your life the minute you saw your teammates rushing towards you.

 The second time it had paralyzed you was when your teammates, your family was tearing itself in half. Your heart tugging you in two completely different directions as Steve and Tony went head to head. You didn’t want to choose and Steve didn’t want you hurt but the minute he left with Bucky you were convinced you’d never see him again.

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11 | You’ll Never Walk Alone



series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence

Originally posted by bcshiro

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366 Days - Part One

Story Summary: Dean Winchester was the love of your life; and you were the love of his life. That’s why he sold his soul to save you, two years ago. By the time you and Sam had learned he’d done this, it was too late. And now with Dean gone, you and Sam were left to make it through without him. As time passes, you and Sam grow closer. But is Dean really gone forever?

Request: If your still taking requests I have one. I don’t care which brother you use for which role but maybe you could do one where the reader is with one of the brothers and he dies and she goes and takes up with the other after a while for comfort and because she trusts him but then the first brother comes back from the dead? All the angst and smut you can jam into it. Thanks! I love your writing!
-Requested by Anon

A/N: Once again, a request has triggered the writing of a series!!! I hope you all enjoy this one!!!! <3

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (eventual)

Warnings: language, graphic character death

Word Count: 1.4k


July 7, 2008


Dean practically broke down the motel room door upon his rushed entrance, causing you and Sam to stand up. He didn’t need to say anything for either of you to know that something was wrong. There was a look of panic on his face, along with a look that told you he’d done something. He was just supposed to be out getting something for you all to eat.

“What the hell, man?” Sam asked him, closing his laptop.

Dean shook his head shamefully and kept his eyes trained on the wall behind you and Sam- “Look, I’m sorry I kept this from you guys..”

“Dean-” you started in a warning tone, but he held his hand up as if to shush you, which only pissed you off.

“Y/N, remember whenever you almost died during that hunt a couple years back..when you were in the hospital?”

“What the hell did you do?” you spat. You didn’t like what he was hinting onto. He wouldn’t.

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anonymous asked:

Hc or fic where Tyler is a good friend of yours and he finds out you're in an abusive relationship?

A/N: Ty x Reader with some good ole Teamiplier platonic love.
Warnings: Emotionally and Physically abusive relationship. Nothing graphic happens but it’s still a sensitive topic.
Title: You’re Safe With Me

“What do you mean we can’t be friends anymore?” Tyler’s voice was fuzzy over the phone but you could still hear the hurt and concern. “Did I do something wrong?”

You sighed and curled up into a ball on your bed. “My boyfriend says I’m too close to you to be ‘just friends’.” You said quietly. Your boyfriend wasn’t in the apartment but you still had this sinking feeling in your gut that he was always listening, that he’d know you’d talked to Tyler. “He says I have to choose between him and you and that if I love him I’ll know what the right choice is.”

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anonymous asked:

oh my god i just read two rotten apples and holy fuck their relationship is so terrible i feel so bad for her goddamn idk why i feel so hurt but pls make jungkook suffer

anonymous asked:

yo… ik everyone will disagree wit me but the relationship in tra is just way too toxic like why do i feel like shit when even if im just the reader. im so fucking mad why is jungkook such an asshole n why is the oc so easy UDHDHJD

anonymous asked:

it fucks with my mind how horrible jk is to the oc in tra i didnt do anything productive today bc i felt like shit LMAO

drabble #3

COUNT → 3.519

GENRE → smut | crack

PAIRING → jungkook | reader

WARNINGS → dom and sub tones | penis in mouth | explicit language | penetration | graphic dirty talk | dick riding | the occasional sarcastic quip

LINKS → 1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5COMING SOON

note → i didn’t have this in mind with the current story line of two rotten apples, which you can read the first part here. so kinda consider this drabble just like. i dont even know. i have no idea. i think as the story goes on. ill link the drabbles for where i think they are in the story. the other two happen later on so they wont be linked yet until more parts are released!!!!!!! anyway i wrote this in a state of anger and perspiration!!!!!!!!!!! if u dont like my characters. or dont like the story. u could just. consider this: close out of my blog and never come back. no one was forcing u to read this. so i didnt appreciate these msgs. i understand u were venting but u didnt even say anything positive about the story so how could u expect me to respond positively??? anyways g’nite

The skin of Elise’s knuckles lightened as her fists clenched on the kitchen counter. She’d been dicing onions for a breakfast omelette but Kale’s noises from upstairs were distracting her as they drifted to her ears from the vent above her head. The kitchen was directly below their shared bedroom, so she could hear every single sound he made, even the bed creaking under his weight.

Washing her hands quickly, she grabbed a nearby towel to dry them off before heading towards the long, twisting marble staircase leading to the upstairs hallway, following the grunts and groans of her beloved husband.

As she peered into the bedroom, she gasped at the sight before her. Kale was lounging on the mattress, a rose placed between his succulent lips and a single cut from one of the thorns garnishing his lower lip. He probably should’ve cut all the thorns off before placing it in his mouth but he was never the smart one. His chest glistened under the light of the full moon, even though just a few seconds ago, Elise was making a breakfast omelette and typically those are made in the morning. She just didn’t have a good concept of time and made breakfast omelettes at night and steaks at eight o’clock in the morning.

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FBI Friday

Title: Contagious

Description: You (the reader) and Spencer Reid are in an established relationship. Reid’s nightmares are getting worse, and one night while you are comforting him, you finally get him to open up about what happens in the nightmares.

A/N: Warning because this is pretty graphic, although not anymore than the show itself. Probably much less graphic actually, because there’s no actual visual.

You woke up in the middle of the night, wondering what had disturbed your rest. You quickly realized that Spencer was sitting up in bed and breathing hard.

“Another nightmare?” you asked, rolling over to face him. He winced.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His voice was strained and shaky.

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anonymous asked:

"Okay... Okay, hospital. Hospital, now." Hunk and sick or injured Lance?


this gets…..a tiny bit gruesome. it isn’t graphic, but there is a very brief description of a compound fracture and vomit. 

When his phone starts ringing and Lance’s picture fills the screen, Hunk thinks it’s probably because he’s picking up takeout and wants to know if Hunk would prefer egg rolls or fried rice, or something along those lines. It’s getting late and Lance hasn’t gotten in touch with him since this morning before classes, and even though he figured his roommate had probably been at Keith’s, he’d been getting a little worried that Lance hadn’t so much as texted to let him know when he’d be home. 

Hunk perks up a little and sets aside his textbook and pencil. “Hang on a second, Pidge. Lance is calling.”

In the Skype window on his laptop monitor, Pidge throws their head back and groans. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna ditch me for Lance. We still have four problems left.”

“I think he just wants my takeout order. It won’t take long, just wait for a minute.”

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like the sun came out

theatre au collab with @jiilys. here’s her part.

a/n: birthday present for @buffysummere​. my dearest lucie. happy, happy birthday dear. i love you more than anything else in the world. including james potter and popcorn.

Ginger Newt Press                                                                     8th February 2009

                                               A Catcher in the Eye
By Lily J. Evans

Film: The Wind in the Whomping Willows.
Director: Bathilda Bagshot.
Genre: Classics, fantasy.

The Wind in the Whomping Willows is an epic fantasy tale from renowned director Bathilda Bagshot, of which I was very lucky to attend a screening of last Friday. The story entails the lives of several close, esteemed friends who attend a picnic together in a copse of magically enchanted willow trees. Chaos and revelation ensues.

I was pleasantly surprised by this viewing. The cinematography and filming techniques used were simple yet effective, an homage to Bathilda’s earlier work and the style that has brought her so much praise, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the plot play out on screen.

However, I found myself riddled with the misfortune of being in an extremely busy cinema, and my viewing was continually disrupted by a rather noisy patron who made a habit of throwing popcorn at the screen despite my polite requests to remain silent during the film.

This did not occur and I found myself frequently distracted—from the naturalistic and impressive acting of Elphias Doge, the unostentatious and utterly convincing efforts of the costume crew, and the enchanting and well-designed sets­­—by the ever-present throwing of popcorn, lewd chewing and ungainly remarks.

It was part-way through this unassuming, whimsical and gripping plotline, dear readers, that I sustained an injury at the hand of the extremely disruptive patron, one that resulted in hours of eye-appointments and optometry scans, but you will be glad to know that whilst my vision has not been effected, my pride has, however, been wounded.

Overall I give this delightful film a total of four and a half stars (★★★★½), even though I did not see the second half of the film and therefore missed out the rest of the companions’ sublime antics. I thoroughly enjoyed this exhibit from Ms. Bagshot, but let it be known that I will be filing my eye bill to the rude and inconsiderate customer who dealt the fatal blow to my left eyeball.

Ginger Newt Press                                                                         3rd March 2009

                                                The Tipping Point
                                              Who Sank the Boat?
By Lily J. Evans

Film: 101 Fantastic Beasts.
Director: Newt Scamander.
Genre: Animals, adventure.

101 Fantastic Beasts is a truly enthralling tale to have hit our screens, directed by none other than the beloved and dedicated Mr. Newton Scamander, whose work, despite sceptical reviews, we have all grown up with and come to cherish. This feature focuses on the mischievous antics of several different and enchanting creatures that are almost too whimsical and fantastical to be true, yet Mr. Scamander brings them to life with poise and effortless direction.

I was extremely excited to be seated for this viewing; Mr. Scamander’s work holds a special place in my heart and I couldn’t wait to bear witness to his next edition. However, it was somewhat interrupted by the same noisy patron who I encountered during the last screening I went to. After voicing my displeasure to this same customer (who, for privacy reasons, we shall only refer to as Jim the Wanker), and copping an earful of his profane and explicit nagging (don’t fret, dear readers; Jim responded to my complaints about my eye injury with equal and yet unnecessary fervour, and I put him in his place by tipping his container of popcorn), the screen was flooded with the technicolour and awe-inspiring animations from Mr. Scamander.

The cinematography was visually stunning and flowed beautifully, and welcomed the voices of actors such as Miranda Goshawk, Inigo Imago and Wilhelm Wigworthy. The story and its design were rife with subtle humour and lively characters, which, coupled with the stunning graphics, made for a very pleasant viewing experience. However, at the end of the film (where, giving nothing away, there was a tear-jerking moment), I could’ve sworn I bore witness to Jim the Wanker sobbing like a child in the row in front of me, which I’m sure had nothing to do with the on-screen death of a fluffy animal and everything to do with him being bitter over having his popcorn spilt and his (extremely large) ego wounded.

Overall I would give this wondrous tale a total of five stars (★★★★★), which, to be sure, dear readers, we don’t encounter often, and, if anything, the viewing experience was only made better the blubbing hysterics boasted by Jim the Wanker who was sitting in the front row. And for the questions as to who started the argument in the first place, I could not tell you who the sank the boat, ladies and gentlemen, but I can tell you that I was the one who tipped it.

Letter to the Editor
5th March 2009
Annie Barrow
23 Writchley St.

Subject: Thoughts on Miss Evans and the March Issue

Dear Ginger Newt Press,
I am writing to you because I have recently been loving Miss Evans’s film review column. I think has very witty and endearing insight on the film industry and I’d love to see more of her work. Also, I think her relationship with James Potter is so cute—how long have they been dating?

11th April 2009
Minerva McGonagall, Editor.

Dear Annie,
Thank you for writing to Ginger Newt Press regarding our March Issue. I sincerely agree with your comments on Miss Evans’ skill with a pen—she has a considerable amount of talent as a writer and as a reviewer, hence why I hired her. I have taken your feedback into account and was already planning to have her pick up more duties at Ginger Newt Press in the New Year. As for your observations on her relationship with Mr. Potter, I showed your contribution to Miss Evans, as I thought it best (and she insisted) that I put in her own response to your remarks.

10th March 2009
Lily Evans, Film Review Columnist.

Dear Annie,
Thank you so much for your compliments! I truly enjoy writing and it is a pleasure being able to do what I love in my position at Ginger Newt Press. I would love to pick up more work in the future.
But I must correct you on one point, as it seems to have been gaining a lot of attention recently—James Potter and I are not dating. In fact, I don’t seem to recall ever even meeting a Mr. Potter in my life. The name only begs familiarity to some incredibly horrific botanic disease, which one would be truly unfortunate to contract.

Ginger Newt Press                                                                          11th April 2009

                                            Panic! At The Theatre
By Lily J. Evans

Film: The Cupboard Under the Stairs.
Director: Gilderoy Lockhart.
Genre: Horror, thriller.

The Cupboard Under the Stairs is a classic retelling of the classic horror flick by Beedle the Bard, reimagined in all its glorious terror by Gilderoy Lockhart. Mr. Lockhart—who still maintains his amateurish approach to directing, despite his many years in the industry—also took it upon himself to star in his own retelling, which is a difficult line to toe, especially when it is done so in such a way that lacks talent.

I did not have high hopes for this viewing, and was therefore not disappointed; though the cinematography was strong, the dialogue was poor, and the characters were unrealistic. In fact, the drab quality had taken its impression upon me so much within the first few minutes that I did not even notice (I will not go so far as to say that I did not mind, because I did) when Jim the Wanker sat down beside me, thankfully not munching on any popcorn, because if he was I would not have hesitated to throw it back in his face for the second time.

It seems the one thing Jim the Wanker and I were able to agree upon was how boring the film was; so boring, in fact, that he took to the childish antics of using me as his personal pinching bag fifteen minutes into the movie. In my retaliation, I am glad to say that I won the pinching war, and consider it a personal victory, however Jim the Wanker and I were thrown out by the unaccommodating (and apparently having no sense of cinematic calibre) ushers, and found ourselves on the scratchy floor of the lobby, making up the rest of the plot by ourselves (which I’m sure would’ve been a great improvement upon the original story, considering that it has very little to contest with).

And for all the highly anxious and somewhat relentless readers who want to know more about the not-at-all delightful Mr. Potter, I spent the rest of the evening finding out that we actually have more in common than I originally anticipated. He, for instance, is a pretentious asshole who likes the Great Gatsby (I have not read it, which he gave me considerable—and, in my opinion, unwarranted—shit for); Quentin Taratino is his favourite director (avid readers will know that my favourite is Wes Anderson, which he wrongly scoffed at, undoubtedly because he has terrible taste in cinema, I don’t understand how he ever became a film reviewer); He is also an avid fan of Star Wars (as everyone should be).

Aside from the considerable amount of time I spent in Mr. Potter’s company, I still give this film a grand total of zero stars, which, I can tell you without a doubt, would have been my rating even if I had seen it.

4th May 2009

Hello, Lily, dear,
I did get your last letter—thankfully it came on time!

The weather here has been dismal; raining non-stop for the past few days! Your father enjoys it well enough, but it’s been a struggle to get all the wood undercover—he’s not as able as he once was, but the medicine the doctor’s been giving him for his back seems to be working well—no more endless complaints of back pain!

I know that things have been difficult with Tuney after the last fight, but do try to patch things up with her—I know she can be hard to deal with, but she means well. I really do hope you’ll come to the wedding—she has invited you, after all.

Anyway, I’m so, so glad to hear you’re doing well. I’ve been absolutely loving reading your columns—they keep getting better and better! It’s such a great position for you to have and your father and I are so proud of you. Hopefully they make you editor some day!

But as for this business with the Potter chap, you really ought to make a move. I saw the pictures from the premiere and the way he was looking at you—my goodness! That kind of admiration is not something you see every day.

I know you’re going to be as stubborn as ever on this subject, but just give it a shot! You have no idea of the amount of happiness you could get out of something like this.

And for goodness sake, you talk about him often enough, it’s a wonder you aren’t already dating!

Endless amounts of love,

Mum (and Dad) xxxxx

15th May 2009

Hi Mum, good to hear from you,

Hopefully it’s stopped raining by now! Did Dad ever think of asking the boy down the road to help him out? He could use the extra hands. Also, I’m glad he’s feeling better. Nothing like endless days at your desk to give you an appreciation for back pain. I’ve been trying to get out more to stretch it out, but with all the attention my column is getting I’ve been strapped to my pad and pencil.

Mum, you know how I feel about Petunia—I don’t expect you to cut off all ties with her, but I can’t keep making excuses. And I haven’t decided if I’m coming to the wedding yet.

Thank you, Mum. I’ve been really enjoying myself! The reviews are great and McGonagall seems really happy with my work. Editor doesn’t seem too far off, but I don’t see McGonagall retiring any time soon. Assistant editor, maybe. I’d love to pick up more responsibilities.

I don’t want to talk about the Potter boy. He probably had something in his eye that day. Or maybe he was hyped up on cold medicine. He did sound a bit like he had a cold. Don’t push me on this, Mum.

And yes, I’m stubborn, but that’s because I’m right! He’s an ass.

And the only reason I talk about him is because he annoys me. Endlessly. Like a fly that just won’t go away. Or chronic back pain.

I love you (and give my love to Dad),

Write soon!

Lily xxx

                                                           (Part 1)

You have never ached as badly as you do now, sitting in front of your desk while the light is dying, trapped inside the opaque glass panels of the windows. Everything is plumish and purple, like a red wine stain across the sky. You have not been able to think of anything else since that night. When you close your eyes all you can see is him, looking at you, looking into you. The numbness is a like a crypt lodged in your sternum. Even when you are running down the stairs, your coat on your arm and your conscience on your other, and hailing a taxi, nothing shocks you quite like the first glimpse of rain in the sky. A rivulet hits your cheek and runs down, as though you have been crying. You lean against the window the whole way home, tracing patterns in the droplets, watching them chase each other down the windscreen. You pay your fare, slip on your coat, walk inside. You don’t want to watch a film. You don’t want to watch a film because no matter how much you love it, it will never be as good as if he was sitting here next to you, flicking popcorn at you and talking about Quentin Taratino and looking at you, looking at you with those eyes of his, like you are something out of a dream but better, because he is awake and breathing and witnessing you in all your glory, like you are a piece of artwork hanging in the London Art Gallery, like you are a monument in Trafalgar Square, bronzed and standing on a plinth, like you are you. So you pour yourself a glass of wine and hope that it’ll stain your dress because you want to see the colour seeping into the fabric, something concrete, proof that you exist, curl up on the couch and try to reconcile the fact that you’ve been waiting to see him every day for the past week. You barely even notice when the rain starts chucking down outside your window, crying like you can’t. He knocks at the door. You are at the threshold, looking at him as the rain buckets down beside him. He is soaked. He is standing in front of you and asking you out and you do not know how to say no. You want to be beside him in that theatre, throwing popcorn at him, but you can’t stop thinking about how the salt and butter would taste if you licked it off his fingers. He is standing in front of you in the rain and telling you, ‘7 o’clock, Saturday. I’ll pick you up,’ and it isn’t a question. You don’t want it to be a question.

                                                          (Part 2)

He picks you up at 7:15. You are wearing a dress made of red velvet and the leather jacket you stole from Sirius. ‘Where are we going?’ you ask him, and just smiles at you, and your stomach falls out of your ass, and he says, ‘It’s a surprise.’ You knock him with your hip and tell him, ‘Sure thing, Jim,’ and when he winks at you it’s like something grating against your skin, so abrasive and cutting you can barely breathe, because you want to feel those feather-light lashes tickling your cheek, like a gust of air circling your skin. You need him more than you need to breathe. He takes your hand and leads you out to the car, the sensation of his skin against yours all at once too much and not enough. You watch the streetlights roll past the car, dimmed and unfocused lamps, each of them softened by the rain. You think you know where you are a moment before you get there, a glimmer of recognition etched onto the back of your brain like a memory, and you don’t even realise he’s watching your face as you walk into the lobby, like you are better than all these lights and richly upholstered carpets and antique ticket booths. You are holding your breath, like the tremor of your exhalation will rupture the vision and cause it to disappear. He is still holding your hand. You are in the lobby of one the original and restored cinemas in London and it’s like walking into dream. He buys your tickets and you are just stranded in the lobby in a tide of red and white, wondering if you are quiet enough if the dream you are living in will engulf you, because you want it to, and his hand gently closing around yours brings you back to reality, a better reality, a better dream, where he is smiling at you and waving the tickets in your face and dragging you up the stairs and into the theatre. You are walking beside him in the dark and feeling the calluses on his hands and quietly thinking that you could fade away into the darkness, into the night, with him next to you.

                                                          (Part 3) 

The theatre is immense, a mausoleum, and there is only one of them. You feel like you are being presented, like you are in a palace, with intricately carved and immaculate ceilings and endless lengths of red curtain and rows upon rows red leather seats. ‘I thought you might like it,’ he whispers in your ear, the fabric of his suitcoat brushing against your side. ‘I do,’ you tell him, because that is all you can say right now. I do, I do, I do. You endlessly do. ‘Thank you,’ you whisper as you take your seats. His thumb is drawing circles on your palm. ‘You’re welcome,’ he tells you. There could very well be stars on the ceiling, in his eyes, on your skin. And when what little light there is goes down and the screen goes up and it is flooded with light, and it hits you, like a moonbeam, they are playing your favourite movie, Casablanca is roaring out across the screen, you can barely breathe, you are looking at him. You didn’t even tell him your favourite film and he is grinning madly back at you. You want to kiss him. You could kiss him, he is sitting next to you in the dark and smiling and wearing suit pants and white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows and aftershave that makes your toes curl. ‘James,’ you whispers to him, and he leans forward, and you say, ‘where’s the popcorn?’, and he tells you that he didn’t get any because his eyes are damaged enough already and he didn’t want to take the risk with you considering how you first met, and you are laughing so hard you can barely breathe and thank God there is no-one else in the cinema because you lean forward and kiss him, kiss him like you’ve wanted to do for the past six months or more or possibly even before you met him, because he is lovely and wonderful and moonshine incarnate, here beneath this palace of stars, his skin tracing yours, gravitational. You give him five stars. You’d give him all the stars in the world, had he not given them to you.

Negan imagines - The Blame Part 12

Originally posted by mydearjdm

AN: Sorry it’s been so long!! I’m just so incredibly busy at the moment and haven’t really got time to think let alone right however I do have some spare time to give you this! There is only a few more chapters left and they’re all planned out, I just need time to write them. I will try my hardest to update weekly for the last few parts. 

Catch up here (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)(Part 11)

Overall Summary: You’re the one who accidentally led the Saviours to the group cause Negan has an interest in you. Rick’s daughter.

In this chapter: Just because a guy makes you feel better doesn’t mean he’s a good man. Your conscience plagues you with nightmares. 

Pairing: Negan x reader, Father!Rick x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1,077 (It’s short, I’m sorry!)

Warnings: Some strong language, some light smut, some graphic violence scenes. 

“Feeling better?” Negan asked with a smirk on his face as you as you sucked the ice cream from your spoon. 

“Yeah.” You pulled the spoon from you mouth and nodded your head, your hair falling from behind your ear as you stared down at your bowl. 

Negan stepped towards you and took your bowl from your hands, placing it down on the side behind you. You licked your lips to rid of any unwanted marks around your mouth and stared up at the man. 

Negan tucked his hands under your ass cheeks and lifted you up onto the counter top, you chuckled and smiled at the older man. 

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Still Here (Reid x Reader)

Title: Still Here

Rating: T

Word Count: 1202

Summary: An unsub pushes on your buttons during an interrogation, but Spencer seems to be taking it harder than you.

Warnings: mentions of abuse, self harm, suicidal actions- no graphic descriptions though

A/N: if you or someone you know is dealing with abuse please call the police x stay safe everyone, im here if you need to chat xo


“Tell me where she is.”

Your voice was low as you leaned across the interrogation table, getting closer to your suspect. Byron Stevenson was obviously guilty for murdering and kidnapping four men. While the other members of the BAU investigated his home and other properties, you, Rossi, and Spencer stayed to interrogate him. You had volunteered to take charge of the interrogation.

However, as he smirked devilishly at you, you felt regret from the decision. “Where’s my deal?” You forced an airy laugh, crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back. “Deal? You must of misheard me. You tell me where she is, or I throw your ass in prison right now for the other two charges. You give me the information I need, and I’ll see what I can do about a ‘deal’.”

He laughed and copied your position, tilting his chair back slightly. “Ok, agent. But first, let me ask you something.” Your brows quirked up in response. You had wasted too much breath on the scumbag.

“How did it feel when your daddy hit you?”

Spencer scowled as he watched the exchange behind glass, glancing at Rossi whose brow was furrowed in confusion. He made a move to get to the door, ready to intervene, when Rossi put his hand up. “She’ll be okay,” he assured, stopped fm saying more by the unsub’s voice. “When he pulled your hair, slapped your cheeks, either ones, if you know what I mean,” Byron said with a tight lipped smirk.

“Is that why you wear those long sleeves, even though it’s 90 degrees outside? Because little fifteen year-old Y/N went on a spree with a blade? Or maybe because she still does.” Your straight face never faltered even though your chest burned with anger.

“All because daddy hurt you?” “Did your father hurt you?” you retorted. “Is that why you killed him first?” His face went flush as his denied your accusations. “Mr. Stevenson was an alcoholic, and since you know so much about abuse, what am I supposed to think?”

“Shut up,” he murmured. “Isn’t that what he told you, so you’d keep quiet? Is that why you shot him? I sure as hell hated my father after that!” you raised your voice, hoping to get a rise out of him. “He deserved what he got, right?” you yelled, causing Byron to stand up. His palms landed against the against the steel table top with a loud “bam!”. “Damn right he deserved it!” he screamed back at you.

“Woo!” you clapped sarcastically, standing up and circling the table. “We’re really talking now,” you whispered into his ear, patting his back with force. “So what did you do to make him pay? Because I would’ve been pissed at him!” you continued. “I killed him! I killed him,” he whimpered the last part, sinking to his knees. Sobs wracked his body as you joined him on his level.

“Do you regret it? All those other people?” He nodded. “You can still save one if you tell me where she is,” you whispered. “No I can’t.” His voice was hoarse. “What do you mean..?” “She’s nailed to one of the trunks in the forest,” he confessed, crying even harder than before. You wasted no time standing up and storming out the room. “Call Hotch, the body’s nailed to a tree in the forest,” you sighed to Rossi, who nodded before leaving the area.

It was silent as you sat down on a nearby bench, burying your face in your hands. “You did well,” Spencer spoke up, sitting down beside you. “Made a fool of myself trying to get that confession,” you laughed while rubbing your temples. “I didn’t think so,” he hummed. “So, um, your father…” he trailed off, avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s all in the past,” you dismissed, self consciously pulling your sleeves over your hands. “That’s why you always wear long sleeves?” You nodded, looking away from his now direct gaze. “Can you please talk to me? I want to understand.” Your breath hitched as he laid his hand atop of yours.

“When I was a kid, my mom left me and my dad. She got tired of being abused I guess. But for some reason I’ve never understood, she left me there. Me, a nine year old girl, alone with this abusive grown man. No one ever found out and I never told. When I was about fifteen, ironically enough, I self harmed. Hell, I tried to kill myself twice. It never worked.” You glanced up to gauge his reaction, frowning at his glossy eyes.

“It lasted for years. I went to college as far from there as I could get, after making one more attempt, that is. I was so scared for so long that he would come get me. I stayed with friends for a long time, too afraid to be on my own.” Spencer looked more hurt then you felt. His lip pouted slightly and a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks.

“But hey, it’s all better now, right?” you said quickly, smiling at him. “I found you guys, I found a family of my own,” you kept your voice quiet, afraid it would break if it got any louder. “Y/N? Do you still… hurt yourself?” he asked. “No, I don’t see any reason to,” you answered honestly, pulling up your sleeves to reveal a few pale, raised lines. “See? Only scars,” you reassured.

Spencer stared at you for a while, leaning in to embrace you. His arms held you tightly as he buried his face in your shoulder. You hugged him back, whispering soothing phrases into his ear. “It’s ok, Spence, it’s ok.” “Don’t ever leave me,"he pleaded. He felt absolutely pathetic as you comforted him. He wasn’t the one who had been abused, or tried to kill himself on multiple occasions, and yet here he was, shedding tears.

"Spence, I need you to look at me,” you said finally, pulling away just enough to face him. His eyes met yours as he complied. “I’m ok now. I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry. I love you, ok? You know that, don’t you, genius?” you teased, wiping under his eyes with your thumb. He cracked a smile, raising a hand to secure yours on his cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m glad,” you half-joked, glancing between his eyes and the way his hand pressed yours to his cheek. “When we get home, do you think you could maybe come over? I just-” “You don’t owe me an explanation,” you smiled. “I’ll be there, Spence. I’ll always be there.” He smiled widely at your response, leaning forward to kiss your cheek hastily. “O-oh my- I’m so sorry, that was really unprofessional I’m-” you cut him off by pressing your lips to his softly.

Your only intention was to help him calm down, but as his lips moved in sync with yours, you couldn’t help but smile. His face was flushed as you pulled away. “That, was unprofessional,” you joked, taking his hand in yours. “C'mon, we’ll finish this later. Now we have a murder investigation to wrap up.”

This Broken You

Admin Author: @wrenwritesometimes (sorry, it’s my writing blog)

A/N: @little-princess-wiccan asked: “Hi there I was wondering if you could make an imagine about Sam walking in on you trying to kill yourself and or self harming because of your abusive boyfriend but Sam loves you and you love him too. I know this seems weird but it helps me get through hard times. Can you make it very detailed?”

Dude, it’s not weird. x) If that’s what you’re afraid is weird, don’t be afraid to ask “weirder” ones! It makes writing interesting, to have a complicated plot or idea. It’s like a puzzle we gotta solve - means more brainwork. And don’t worry about detail, I’m gr8 at that. xD

Quick side note, beginning HEAVILY influenced by the beginning of “A Car, A Torch, A Death” by twenty one pilots whilst writing. Sorry? Nupe.
The ending was written to “Big Picture” by London Grammar, which is a very beautiful song. Kinda fits to.

Thanks too @imnoaingeal for reading through this and helping me!

Warnings: Mentions and kinda graphic explanation of self harm?? Woopsh??, mentions of (and actual un-intended not-so-“mentioned”-such-as-maybe-actual, woopsh) abuse, cursing, angst, and let’s add some floof… “a song’s never just sad”. Ooh, let’s have some confrontation too… violence.
Am I making it obvious that I’m outlining what potentially will be in this story through the warnings? Am I sorry? Nupe. Am I talking to myself in my own “author’s notes”?… Let’s move on.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

I hope your hard times become soft, my friend, and here we go:

The air felt thin when you started the car, as you seethed in your own special way…
Feeling angry and heartbroken at a situation you could easily end and walk away from.

But could you? Really?
It had been years… he knew everything about you… maybe that was the bad thing… every detail about you felt like blackmail when on his tongue.

There was always the lingering fear that he’d go to the authorities with your background as a hunter.
… at least that’s what he said once, when you said you’d leave him.

Suddenly, your heart seized, then sped up as your body forced an unpleasantly sharp inhale as you sobbed.
You couldn’t really breathe right…
You needed to pull over.

You didn’t realize where the destination you were aiming for was until you had cried for a good ten minutes.

You were silent, nothing but your car’s engine and the sparse passing cars rumbling down the road making a sound.

You stared at the road sign announcing the road you usually took to get to the one place you felt at home - really at home.

You had been on your way to the bunker.

You were hesitant, your shoulders hunched as you hung to the steering wheel desperately.

Sniffling, you shifted out of park and drove again.


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New Beginnings, Part Two

Chapter Two
“Not Too Insane For You“


Word Count: 2.5K



A/N: This chapter showcases our reader’s background and upbringing.

My name is Y/N L/N. I’ve lived all over the country, but I consider Chicago, Illinois to be where I’m from. My mom’s name is Jennifer and she’s an accountant. My dad’s name is Frank and he is a retired Marine, having served in Desert Storm twice. I have two little brothers named Alan and Jimmy. They’re twins and 5 years younger than me.

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To Help Love You // Kim Taehyung (BTS)

Originally posted by taehyungieluv

(Female) Chubby!Reader x Taehyung ft. the rest of Bts

Fluff for the most part

Requested Here

Words: 1704

Warning: Mentions of struggling with weight and the pressure of society and how people treat fat people

We do not Own this Gif

Author’s note: I’m sorry this took so long, I was really busy I also Recommend to listen to Only You - Twice with this. Request are open ~ Yum


You stared at yourself in the fitting room mirror unable to make the clothes on your body work. You hoped the high waist shorts wouldn’t give you the muffin-top look, but that wasn’t the case. Summer has fast approached and no matter how healthy you eat or how much you work out you still couldn’t lose the weight. You continued to look in the mirror, your thighs touched just a bit too much, your stomach pushed out and even though they were high-waist shorts, your love handles still pushed out. You stared at your arms as the top you had on didn’t even bother to hide them, and your double chin still showed no matter how much you tried to hide it. Flinging the top off you went for the graphic tee you walked in with.

“(Y/N) are you doing okay?” a voice from the other side of the door.called. You quickly threw a shirt on and opened the door to come face to face with Seokjin.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” you said forcing a smile on your face.

“Well you’ve been in there for about 5 minutes I was just wondering,” He said, a smile coming onto his face.

“Oh, well I’ll be right out,” You said disappearing back into the fitting room.

“And those shorts suit you,” He said before you heard his footsteps follow him out of the area.

You felt your face heat up and quickly changed out of them before meeting the rest of the boys at the front of the store.

You and the boys tried some more stores each putting you in a more of a saddened mood than before, you never bought anything from any of the other stores. You all stopped in the food court for lunch you watched as they went different ways to their preferred foods, you picked a table and picked at the plastic salad in front of you, your thoughts passing faster than the speed of light.

“(Y/N)?” You looked up at Yoongi who sat across from with knitted brows in worry. You looked at each of them then looked back down at your salad.

You tried to smile but it looked more like a wince, “I have to use the bathroom.” You said quietly, you stood and quickly walked to the bathroom without so much of a glance behind you.

You barely got to the stall before you felt your throat close up with a sob. You let out small sobs and whimpers into your hands, You didn’t know how long you stayed in the stall trying to muffle your crying but when you finally came out and splashed your face with cold water trying to get the redness in your face to calm down along with the swelling in your eyes. You ran your hands through your hair before fixing your shirt and walking out of the bathroom.

You spotted Taehyung leaning against the wall in the hallway leading out of the restroom area. You slowly made your way to him running through the excuses in your head to why you were in the bathroom so long.

“Taehyung?” you said loud enough for him to hear.

“(Y/N),” he paused, “why were you in the bathroom so long?” He asked the question like he knew the answer but just wanted to hear it.

“I just had to fix something,” the words slowly died in your throat as you said them. You looked at your feet, you threaded and unthreaded your hands.

“Why haven’t you bought any clothes today?” His voice was a soft demand, you swallowed causing the small pain in your throat you knew you got when you were going to cry. “(Y/N),” he said reminding you that he wants an answer.

“I just didn’t like anything I saw,” you said not completely lying.

“Didn’t like the clothes or the clothes on you?” He asks directly making your head snap up at him in plain shock. “(Y/N) we know that you’re trying so hard to lose weight because your fat or curvy but you’re still beautiful whether you’re fat or not,” he sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and looked at you before you pulled you into a hug, he rubbed your back soothingly and you melted into his embrace.

“I’m going to help you love yourself (Y/N),” he said pulling away from the embrace.

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows in skepticism, “how do you suppose you’ll achieve that?”

“Easy because I already love you,” He let out a cheeky smile.

You choked on the air that was supposed to make it down your throat. “You what?” You asked incredulously.

“I have for a while too,” He slid his hand around your shoulders steering you to where the rest of the boys were probably waiting.

~ 3 years later ~

You nearly threw your controller at Jungkook’s head from the couch. “You little…” You glared at him as he laughed at the screen.

“Noona~” He sang lightly, “you should have played more for practice” he turned and stuck his tongue out at you. Before you could snap back at him Only You by Twice came from your phone, letting you know your oh so lovely boyfriend was calling.

Jungkook’s eyes meant yours before you both lunged for the phone. You grabbed it and quickly answered, “Taehyung?” you skipped the hello and used your free hand with pushing Jungkook away.

“Hyung!” Jungkook tried yelling into your phone, you got up and ran to the opposite side of the couch.

“Why is Jungkook yelling?” Taehyung’s deep voice that held amusement greeted you.

“Because I was going to kill him,” You said as you speed walked away from Jungkook.

“Did you lose again?” Taehyung accused you as you made a face at Jungkook before making a Beeline for Taehyung’s room, or what would be his room if he didn’t live with you.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” He teased. “(Y/N) you should meet me at your favorite restaurant for dinner.”

“I should?” You asked amusement quickly taking up your voice.

“Yes,” He answered back flatly.

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked as you started looking around for any clothes you had left over from long ago.

“Then you’ll leave your hungry boyfriend to eat your favorite food alone and sad,” you could hear the pout in his voice.

“I’ll be there in ten,” you paused, “I love you Taehyung.” you said softly.

“I love you more, see you in ten” You heard the click and the line go dead. You grabbed one of Taehyung’s old jacket and stuffed your phone in your pocket of your shorts. You unlocked the door and walked into Jungkook.

“Bring some leftovers back, I’m hungry too,” he smiled and followed you to the front door.

“You don’t want to come?” You asked slowly, usually, Jungkook wanted to follow you and Taehyung to every date you guys went on.

“No I’m fine, plus Jimin said he’s bringing some of his dinner home, too,” He smiled knowingly, “He took his girlfriend to the really fancy restaurant.”

“Okay then,” You turned to open the front door with a bunch of questions flew through your mind. “Have fun playing by yourself,” You said over your shoulder to him. His laughter followed you down the hall to the elevator.

You quickly walked out of their building careful of any fangirls before talking down the street to your favorite restaurant. You enjoyed the sunset as you walked, something about the colors of a sunset always made you happy. You walked into the crowded place and the smell of cheap but good food. An old woman with an apron passed by and smiled at you, she pointed with one hand to the middle table that was full of flowers and your favorite food already out.

“I worked hard on that, I suggest you take a seat.” A deep voice said into your ear.

You turned to your boyfriend, who was in a suit, with his hair and makeup done. He made you look like a mess from your ripped jeans to the shirt that you slept into his jacket that had moth holes in it. Your hair was in a messy bun and you had only base makeup on.

“It’s not your birthday, or my birthday, or our anniversary, or a holiday. Did someone die?” You asked with wide eyes as he lead you to the table. “Is it poisoned? Are you going to scare me?” You continued rambling at him as he took a seat across from you.

“Nothing bad is going to happen, my love.” he said rolling his eyes.

“Taehyung why are you using that nickname?” You asked tensely in your seat and fully aware of everyone looking at the two of you.

“(Y/N),” He paused reaching into the pocket of his blazer. “We’ve been dating three years,” He pulled out a small black velvet box and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that came out of your mouth, body, and soul. “I’ve been in love with you long before that,” he moved to the side of the table, dropping to one knee. “We’ve had our challenges that tested our relationship and us,” He opened the small box. “We grew throughout the years together and I want to grow more with you, I want to grow with you forever because I know you’ll make me the best I can be, maybe even better,” he took out the ring and held it up to you.

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

“Yes, with all the life in me yes”

He slides the ring onto your ring finger, as happy as you were you were too impatient to wait for him to kiss you. You laced your fingers to the back of his neck and pulled him to you for a kiss. When you finally broke it off you looked at him smiling, and he smiled back before turning to put some food your plate.

“Now we eat my Fiancee,” He said handing you the chopsticks.

“Indeed we do my Fiance,” you answered taking the chopsticks from him.

Hurtful Honesty (Part 1)

A/N: Warning - there is mention of death and it can be a really sensitive topic. Please, do not read if you will find it disturbing and uncomfortable.

Being framed for a crime is terrifying, but being forgotten as a friend is far worse. Ever since the death of Jane, Jinyoung began to affiliate with the group of friends her brother frequents with. It used to be just the three of us, but I guess it’s true that death can do us apart even in friendship.

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I Dare You - Chapter 4 - JohnTen - Mafia Leader x Detective - Soulmate!AU

Chapter 1 - Intro ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4  ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7

Word Count: 1151

Trigger Warning: Offensive Language, Graphic Descriptions

Genre: Angst, Mafia!AU, Soulmate!AU

Ten was still sitting on the same old couch, but it was somehow different now.

When he sat on this couch before, he was miserable.



He used to sit on that couch and cry for hours.

He used to sit on that couch and name every single reason he hated what he had had to become.

He used to sit on that couch and name every single reason he did not want to live this life, considering he’d still want to live at all.

And how could he? His own family no longer knew who he was, and he had no one close to him because of his… occupation.

Worst of all? He had no soulmate.

And that meant that he would never be loved.

It meant that he would never find anyone in this life to accept him and help him through it.

It meant that when he really did need someone there for him, be it to listen or simply for emotional support as he leaned his head down on their shoulder, he would have no one.

It meant that he had no place to call home because he had no one to come home to.

It meant that he was all alone.

But not anymore.

When Ten had woken up, face cracking with the salt from the dried tears, the first thing that hit him was the realization that:

A. His surge of emotion had actually reached someone.

B. Someone understood his pain and actually sent back a hug. A hug.

C. He had a soulmate. And his soulmate had reached out to him when it mattered most.

Ten was not amazed, he was overjoyed.

Ten woke up to cry again, but out of happiness this time.

Making sure to drink more than just the water from his glass this time, he had scrambled out of his position frantically, dazed and his body numb from his sleeping position and lack of mobility.

But he didn’t care.

He had a soulmate.

He was more than just glad to know that no one else would be in that room with him, because he had actually started jumping, running his hands through his hair and holding it up with the widest grin on his face as he ran around the room like a maniac.

He was insane. A downright lunatic.

A lunatic with a soulmate.

And the soulmate actually cared.

At that moment, everything stopped.

The world stopped for Ten.

Time stopped.

His thoughts halted at only one particular idea.

And he was ecstatic.

He had an escape to be who he really was.

To who he’d always wanted to be.

Mafia boss or not, Ten was not a fighter.

Ten was always softer than people needed him to be. Never as tough as he should be. Always more sensitive than necessary.

But why would it have been a problem?

That was just who he was, and he never understood the problem with him being the way he was.

So what if he cried when he got upset or felt overly emotional? So what if he wanted a soulmate to hold? So what if he wanted someone else’s warmth to become his home?

He didn’t choose his fate.

He was forced into it.

And that did not mean he ever accepted it, or ever will.

Smiling to himself despite the constant tears that were now getting in the way of everything, he reached over for the closest pen and scribbled down on his arm, first thanking his soulmate with a cute smiley, then doodling for them and wishing them a restful sleep.

I bet they’ll think it’s cute, he thought softly as he finished up the drawing of a fluffed pillow.

And then he was suddenly frowning.

What if they didn’t like him?

What if they weren’t into all the cutesy stuff?

Ten shook his head, trying to shove all the inflitrating thoughts away, but by then, one in particular had already wormed its way into his mind and filled him with dread.

Desperation filling him, he slid down in his seat, the world stopping once more as he choked back another sob and screaming at the top of his lungs, tears now steaming hot and filled with anger.

What if his soulmate knew who he was?

What if his soulmate knew what he was?

He covered his eyes as the tears ran down the sides of his face to the back of his head, leaving a trail.

Please, he thought, pleading. Please don’t leave me.

He hiccuped, feeling pathetic but hopeless. Why him? Why did this have to happen, and why was it him it had to happen to?

I just found you.

Please, please let me show you who I really am, he begged, pressing the mark once more.

Please be the one to love me for who I really am.


Johnny awoke with a jolt, a stab of pain jerking him up in the bed as he felt his heart hurt and his stomach clench, mind filling with anxiety and despair.

In his mind, all he could hear was the echoing sound of honey, like if a broken angel were whispering into his mind; begging, crying.

Please don’t leave me, I just found you. Please, please let me show you who I really am. Please be the one to love me for who I really am.

Johnny’s heart shattered with every word, his own tears escaping as he realized that this wasn’t something he could simply ignore as he wished.

His soulmate was in pain, and he needed him.

His soulmate was reaching out to him.

My soulmate, the thought echoing as the reality washed over him.

Before he could really think about it or change his mind, he reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the pen he kept there, taking its tip to his arm.

I’m here, he wrote, and he meant it.

And then slowly, knowing that he probably needed it more than his soulmate did, he drew a matching smiley next to his sentence.

Nothing happened for minutes, and Johnny was beside himself with worry. Had he fainted? Worse? What was going on?

Hey, are you okay?! he scribbled incessantly, almost driving the pen’s tip through his skin with the fervor he was writing with.

His soulmate never wrote anything back.

He never had to.

Johnny was overwhelmed within seconds, gasping for breath and panting as he reveled in this raw emotion that he’d long forgotten.

It was like sitting in a blanket, your arms wrapped around the love of your life as you said nothing, sitting in comfortable silence as you listened to each others’ hearts beating.

Love. Belonging.


That was the first time Johnny laughed and cried simultaneously, and he stared at his arm fondly as he sent his overwhelmed state over to his soulmate.

His soulmate.