so glad i know how to do the small text again

On trauma aftermaths that don't advance the plot

The way TV shows trauma can lead people to expect every reference to trauma to be a plot point. This can be isolating to people coping with the aftermaths of trauma. Sometimes people treat us as stories rather than as people. Sometimes, instead of listening to us, they put a lot of pressure on us to advance the plot they’re expecting.

On TV, triggers tend to be full audiovisual flashbacks that add something to the story. You see a vivid window into the character’s past, and something changes. On TV, trauma aftermaths are usually fascinating. Real life trauma aftermaths are sometimes interesting, but also tend to be very boring to live with.

On TV, triggers tend to create insight. In real life, they’re often boring intrusions interfering with the things you’d rather be thinking about. Sometimes knowing darn well where they come from doesn’t make them go away. Sometimes it’s more like: Seriously? This again?

On TV, when trauma is mentioned, it’s usually a dramatic plot point that happens in a moment. In real life, trauma aftermaths are a mundane day-to-day reality that people live with. They’re a fact of life — and not necessarily the most important one at all times. People who have experienced trauma do other things too. They’re important, but not the one and only defining characteristic of who someone is. And things that happened stay important even when you’re ok. Recovery is not a reset. Mentioning the past doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in crisis.

On TV, when a character mentions trauma, or gets triggered in front of someone, it’s usually a dramatic moment. It changes their life, or their relationship with another character, or explains their backstory, or something. In real life, being triggered isn’t always a story, and telling isn’t always a turning point. Sometimes it’s just mentioning something that happened to be relevant. Sometimes it’s just a mundane instance of something that happens from time to time.

Most people can’t have a dramatic transformative experience every time it turns out that their trauma matters. Transformative experiences and moments of revelation exist, but they’re not the end all and be all of trauma aftermaths. Life goes on, and other things matter too. And understanding what a reaction means and where it came from doesn’t always make it go away. Sometimes, it takes longer and has more to do with skill-building than introspection. Sometimes it doesn’t go away.

On a day to day level, it’s often better to be matter-of-fact about aftermaths. It can be exhausting when people see you as a story and expect you to advance the plot whenever they notice some effect of trauma. Pressure to perform narratives about healing doesn’t often help people to make their lives better. Effect support involves respecting someone as a complex human, including the boring parts.

The aftermath of trauma is a day-to-day reality. It affects a lot of things, large and small. It can be things like being too tired to focus well in class because nightmares kept waking you up every night this week. TV wants that to be a dramatic moment where the character faces their past and gets better. In real life, it’s often a day where you just do your best to try and learn algebra anyway. Because survivors do things besides be traumatized and think about trauma. Sometimes it’s not a story. Sometimes it’s just getting through another day as well as possible.

A lot of triggers are things like being unable to concentrate on anything interesting because some kinds of background noises make you feel too unsafe to pay attention to anything else. For the zillionth time.  Even though you know rationally that they’re not dangerous. Even though you know where they come from, and have processed it over and over. Even if you’ve made a lot of progress in dealing with them, even if they’re no longer bothersome all the time. For most people, recovery involves a lot more than insight. The backstory might be interesting, but being tired and unable to concentrate is boring.

Triggers can also mean having to leave an event and walk home by yourself while other people are having fun, because it turns out that it hurts too much to be around pies and cakes. Or having trouble finding anything interesting to read that isn’t intolerably triggering. Or having trouble interacting with new people because you’re too scared or there are too many minefields. Or being so hypervigilant that it’s hard to focus on anything. No matter how interesting the backstory is, feeling disconnected and missing out on things you wanted to enjoy is usually boring.

When others want to see your trauma as a story, their expectations sometimes expand to fill all available space. Sometimes they seem to want everything to be therapy, or want everything to be about trauma and recovery.

When others want every reference to trauma to be the opening to a transformative experience, it can be really hard to talk about accommodations. For instance, it gets hard to say things like:

  • “I’m really tired because of nightmares” or 
  • “I would love to go to that event, but I might need to leave because of the ways in which that kind of thing can be triggering” or 
  • “I’m glad I came, but I can’t handle this right now” or
  • “I’m freaking out now, but I’ll be ok in a few minutes” or 
  • “I need to step out — can you text me when they stop playing this movie?”

It can also be hard to mention relevant experiences. There are a lot of reasons to mention experiences other than wanting to process, eg:

  • “Actually, I have experience dealing with that agency”
  • “That’s not what happens when people go to the police, in my experience, what happens when you need to make a police report is…”
  • “Please keep in mind that this isn’t hypothetical for me, and may not be for others in the room as well.”

Or any number of other things.

When people are expecting a certain kind of story, they sometimes look past the actual person. And when everyone is looking past you in search of a story, it can be very hard to make connections.

It helps to realize that no matter what others think, your story belongs to you. You don’t have to play out other people’s narrative expectations. It’s ok if your story isn’t what others want it to be. It’s ok not to be interesting. It’s ok to have trauma reactions that don’t advance the plot. And there are people who understand that, and even more people who can learn to understand that.

It’s possible to live a good life in the aftermath of trauma. It’s possible to relearn how to be interested in things. It’s possible to build space you can function in, and to build up your ability to function in more spaces. It’s often possible to get over triggers. All of this can take a lot of time and work, and can be a slow process. It doesn’t always make for a good story, and it doesn’t always play out the way others would like it to. And, it’s your own personal private business. Other people’s concern or curiosity does not obligate you to share details.

Survivors and victims have the right to be boring. We have the right to deal with trauma aftermaths in a matter-of-fact way, without indulging other people’s desires for plot twists. We have the right to own our own stories, and to keep things private. We have the right to have things in our lives that are not therapy; we have the right to needed accommodations without detailing what happened and what recovery looks like. Neither traumatic experiences nor trauma aftermaths erase our humanity.

We are not stories, and we have no obligation to advance an expected plot. We are people, and we have the right to be treated as people. Our lives, and our stories, are our own.

High school reunion AU for @zimmbitty who planted the idea in my head. I hope my loss sleep makes you happy.

-

An AU where Jack and Bitty happened to go to the same high school for maybe a year or two. (Here their age difference is around 3 years.)

How you ask? Coach is filling in temporarily maybe not as a Football coach but in some other position. It doesn’t matter *waves hands to misdirect from possible plot holes* just go with it…

Bitty is still into figure skating and in this high school, they have an actual ice skating ring in the premises!!!

And his skating lessons are usually before the hockey team plays. At first, he avoids the team but slowly realises they didn’t really care what he did so long as he left the ice on time.

Then Bitty started watching the practices and hockey looked kind of fun, (if you ignored the checking…) and maybe if he got into hockey he and Coach would have more stuff in common to talk about.

So one day after hockey practice is over, Bitty sneaks back into the ice with a broken hockey stick he found in the dumpster and put back together with duct tape and a flatted out can, and starts trying to get a hang of how the sport works.

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A Lesson in Love (A Fresh Start)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,541

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist

@avengerstories - thank you for spending close to a month listening to me complain about this part, helping me finally get it written, and editing it for me.

Originally posted by natashamaximova

“It happened!” Wanda yells, rushing into the apartment and slamming the door shut behind her. She floats all the way to the couch, picks up a pillow, and hugs it close to her chest. “It finally happened.”

Forgetting all about the milk you were warming up in the microwave, you rush to your roommate’s side. Her cheeks are tinged a light pink color that has nothing to do with the cold. “Viz asked you out?”

Vision, known to your friends as Viz, is a foreign exchange student that Wanda has been crushing on since he asked her for directions last semester. There’s no way to compute the amount of hours you’ve spent analyzing his actions with her and trying to determine whether or not he reciprocated her feelings.

“He asked me out,” she squeals, hiding her face in the pillow and kicking her feet out in front of her. Her enthusiasm level makes you laugh; not at her, but with her. She’s been dreaming about this moment for months and you’re glad that it finally happened. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Wanda.

That’s why you keep a tight hold on the resentment that’s attempting to consume you as you realize that Wanda has what you don’t: a date with a guy she really likes. You wish you didn’t feel this way, but the wound created by Bucky’s words last night is still raw and very much at the forefront of your mind.

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itybitynovak  asked:

Can you please write an imagine where the reader has had just a really bad day and they come home to Harry and just lots of fluff and cuddles please? Thank you, love :)

First, I’m sorry this took so long to get too.. precisely why I’m terrible with requests. Second, I changed the idea just a bit, but it works out all the same, I think. x

Also the cut on this one is at the top  because the photo I used *can* be considered NSFW. So- proceed with caution, lol. 

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Business and Pleasure - Part 16

Summary:  Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.

Word Count: 1,415

Warnings: Swearing, angst


Originally posted by campercooperpugfi


Once you had retreated to the bathroom, Steve heaved a large sigh, sinking into the cushions of the leather couch, covering his face with his hand and squeezing his eyes shut tight. How the hell did this happen? He had thought things were going well. He thought you and Bucky were finally on the same page. At least that’s how it seemed. You seemed so happy in the previous weeks, and now, it was like you were right back at the beginning.

Steve knew that he said he would call Bucky, but he didn’t know if he would even be able to contain his anger. There was a huge part of him that wanted to fly to wherever Bucky was and beat the living shit out of him. Steve didn’t like bullies, even if they happened to also be his friends. He wouldn’t tolerate this. He wouldn’t let Bucky just abandon you. He couldn’t. And if he couldn’t knock some sense into Bucky, well, then he would figure out where to go from there.

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12.14 coda

Dean may have missed out on the fight, but he still feels like drinking when he finally gets back home. Ketch’s expensive bottle of bribery is still sitting on the war room table and his glass is still in his favorite spot, right where he left it.

“Oh, hello, sweetness. Daddy’s here,” Dean coos at it. He hums as he picks up the bottle - still heavy even after a couple of drinks. “Shhh. It’s just you and me now.”

Sam scoffs. “Really, Dean? You’re that easy?”

Dean rolls his eyes over his shoulder. “So?”

Sam doesn’t really want to start anything, he’s feeling too good. He lets Dean smuggle his booze away to his room like always and revels in the still-fresh feeling of adrenaline-fueled ass-kicking. Changing the world. Power in the palms of his hands. He’ll try not to let it go to his head, but he deserves to celebrate the win at least.

Dean, meanwhile, falls like a heavy weight against the back of his bedroom door. 

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No Strings (V)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Excessive drinking 

Word Count: 4,010

Summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

Originally posted by jiyoongis

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we know the game

on Ao3

nothing like some good old fashioned nonsense

this is basically crack. right well, i should stop writing after 11pm

enjoy~


Marinette has a few rules when it comes to her partner.

  1. Don’t let him take patrols on his own. He’ll fall asleep on a random rooftop somewhere because he likes to stay out until the break of dawn, watching over the city as it sleeps.
  2. If he calls after midnight, always answer.
  3. Don’t trust him with gifts. He always goes unnecessarily over the top and spends far too much money for her (or anyone else) to be comfortable with it.
  4. Don’t put him in charge of food. For the same reason as the gifts, but also because he’ll eat half the food before she shows up.
  5. Don’t smile at him too much in class. Alya is getting suspicious.

But it turns out that Marinette has to add a new rule to the list:

  • Don’t let Alya and Nino plan anything for the four of them.

—«·»—

“Are you sure you can’t come?” Marinette asks, pacing back and forth as Tikki watches her burn circles in the floor from the desk..

I really can’t,” Alya apologizes over the phone. “We can’t find a sitter this last minute and there’s no way my mom is letting Ella and Etta stay home alone.

“Could you bring them?” Marinette tries. “Because I can just bring more food and—”

Marinette,” Alya interrupts gently. “With this last week of akumas, I don’t think my mom wants even us going to school. A park without adult supervision? No way.

Marinette chews on her bottom lip and resists the urge to ask ‘what about superhero supervision?’ Instead, she asks, “Are you sure?”

Positive.” Alya sighs. “I’m sorry, I really wish I could come. But you’ll be with Nino and Adrien, you’ll still have a fun time without me there.”

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The Only Exception (Part 5)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,844

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, sarcasm, hot firemen, draaaamaaaa, did i mention angst? this is getting ridiculous.

A/N: Cliffhangers are mostly unintentional. I got so many ACK HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME messages that I wanted to post the next part. Warning: it’s mostly just to move the plot along.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 -

Originally posted by sebuttianstans

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The Jealousy’s Evening

for the anon who sent in this amazing prompt, thank you! 


Today wasn’t Castiel’s favorite day. The past few days hadn’t been his favorite day. A lot of things were currently not okay and all he could do was fake a smile and get on with school, with life.
It wasn’t that he was allowed to complain - in the end Dean had never been his in the first place. But seeing him kiss Lisa… it hurt. It hurt seeing them together, so close and happy. 

Of course, Castiel didn’t have any feelings for Dean, he was just upset that he was losing his best friend. They had been close for a long time, stayed over at each other’s houses a lot, slept in the same bed, shared clothes and did everything together. They were inseparable, until Dean started dating Lisa. 

For Castiel it had been out of nowhere when Dean had told him he and Lisa were a thing. At first, he’d just been slightly annoyed, but when days passed he began to realize how much it influenced him and his friendship with Dean. Way more than he wanted to admit. 

He just wanted the old Dean back, spend time with him doing nothing- hang out on the roof and talk about school or Dean’s father being a dick and Gabriel who’d stolen from the candy shop. That was ages ago and Cas was probably never getting that back.

Dean never wanted to hang out and ‘do nothing’, had not once suggested to take a ride with the Impala and watch the sunset while sipping beer as they sat on the hood of the car. The only thing that was the same, were them staying over at each other’s houses, doing homework together and their movie night on Friday. 

At least, Castiel thought.

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2.3k of 12.11 coda. spoilers, duh. angst, episode content, etc. it’s sad but there’s a happy ending. (ao3)

He can’t take his eyes off of his reflection. He’s crying but he’s not really sure why.

There’s something… he’s forgetting something. Everything? Something.

Dean wipes his face off and splashes water on it, a vague sense of deja vu overtaking him. He feels - he doesn’t know how to describe it. Something’s wrong, very wrong, but he’s not sure what.

He leans forward to rest his forehead on the wall and feels something in his front pocket hit the sink. 

He pulls it out hoping it’ll have a clue or a hint what he’s forgetting. 

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Friendship Is Nice. Friendship and Lingerie Is Nicer.

Summary: CS Modern AU. Friends to Lovers. Emma gets some new lingerie and, intending to get approval from her friends, accidentally sends some revealing pictures to the wrong group chat. Smut ensues.

tagging @emmasbutt who has put up w/ my incessant chatter while writing this fic ♥

Rated M. 6.6k words ~ also on ao3

Emma Swan has not owned a decent set of lingerie in far too long. It’s not as if she’s had anyone to wear it around, has had any need for it. The thought of needing an upgrade to her sexy wardrobe isn’t something her friends have needled her about in a while and therefore, hasn’t crossed her mind.

She’s just gotten her income tax money and seeing as she’s finally in a financially stable enough place in her life to not need to spend the money on bills, she takes a slightly reluctant but much-needed trip to the nearest mall. Too many unstylishly ripped jeans and torn t-shirts have been piling up in her wardrobe and, really, her lack of anything that ranges outside the bounds of leather and simple cotton is kind of sad.

She’s made a decent dent in her wallet—a couple of sheer shirts (who knew sheer was so in), a floral dress, a little black dress Ruby will whole-heartedly approve of, a nice green jacket that is decidedly not leather, and even a pencil skirt—when she passes the Victoria’s Secret.

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Saturdays (pt 1)

Genre: Fluff/Smut (in pt 2)

Member: Jungkook

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 4484

Summary: After three months of loneliness and insecurities while on tour, Jungkook comes home to you.

Part 2

This is just pure fluff tbh. But Part 2 will much more explicit (and will be posted within the next two or three days at most). Enjoy!


You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been sitting on the window seat with your knees pulled into your chest, the cool wall leaching all the warmth from your spine through the thick material of your hoodie. All day you’d been lounging in the comfort of your apartment, basking in the calming serenity of the pouring rain pattering against the wide window. The view of the Seoul skyline piercing the gray swirling clouds above was beautiful in the most hazy and sleepy way, almost as if the entirety of South Korea had just woken up from a Saturday-afternoon nap and hadn’t yet wiped the sleep from its eyes.

Saturdays were one of your favorite days, mainly because you didn’t have to worry about your usual responsibilities of college and work. You preferred to spend most of your Saturdays at home to recharge before having to finish up any assignments you’d been procrastinating over on Sunday, and you often found yourself devoting Saturdays to pampering yourself. Eating whatever you wanted, messily slathering on a face mask, taking a long steaming bath to relax your tense muscles, the works. At that point in the day, you’d already cooked yourself chocolate chip pancakes (You woke up around 11:30am, but who’s to say pancakes have to be reserved solely for breakfast time?) while your favorite moisturizing mask was caked on your skin. You stuffed the fluffy, sweet deliciousness in your face ravenously as you binge-watched YouTube videos, the only worry you had being that you may not have enough syrup.

Now you sat, four hours later, curled up by the window, still sucked into the void that is YouTube and enjoying the melancholy rainfall that was baptizing the streets of Seoul.

As much as you loved Saturdays, you couldn’t help but feel sad that you’d spent so many without your boyfriend around to participate in the self-care. The two of you had made it a tradition to spend Saturdays together and bond over cartoons and unhealthy snacks. Even though he basically lived with you when he wasn’t forced to stay at the dorms or travel for a tour, Jungkook was insistent on coming over and talking about each of your weeks through mouthfuls of pizza.

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Imagine dealing with drunk Chris.

A/N: Man, oh man. I just can’t stay away from writing, can I? Well, at least majority of my holiday stuff’s packed. This is another fic inspired by a conversation with the lovely @chrisevans-imagines We have some very weird, but oddly inspiring conversations. Don’t we, Ava? 😂

You pushed your way through the crowd as you searched the overly packed party for your best friend, Chris, who had drunkenly called you ten times in the last hour; it was 2:19AM. He could count himself incredibly lucky that you were finishing up some paperwork at the hospital otherwise you would’ve killed him for interrupting your much needed beauty sleep. You’d been pulling quite a few late nights over the past week as you were about to take leave and go on your holiday, so things hadn’t been particularly easy on you. But you knew before you went into med-school that being a doctor wasn’t going to be easy, what you didn’t know was how much harder it was being a doctor who was best friends with Chris Evans; a man who had the equivalent energy of his puppy, Dodger. If you weren’t so in-love with him, he wouldn’t get away with half the things he put you through. But you were, so here you were at the party.

“Hello beautiful.” An arm hooked around your waist and pulled you into him; you groaned and pushed the drunken stranger off you. “Geez, lighten up!” He called after you as you disappeared further into the room. If you didn’t find Chris in the next five minutes, you were outta there.

“Hell yeah I’ll get it in!” You heard Chris’ voice and you followed it, chuckling when you found him by the ping pong table. “Don’t you worry, I'mma get it into that cup.” He bounced the ball off the table and balanced it on the back of his hand as he swallowed another gulp of his beer. “Watch me nail this th-” He spotted you and his smile tenfold. “Y/N, you came!” He downed his drink and tossed both ball and red solo cup aside before making his way to you, waving off the protests that came from the other players. “Sorry guys, I’m done. My girl’s here,” he draped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m not your girl, Evans.” You reminded him, but made no effort to push him away from you like you had with the other guy; you were very glad that the dim lights hid your deeply flushed cheeks. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t drink and drive, the last thing I need is to be called back in because someone got into a car accident.”

“Awww,” he cooed, squeezing you tightly against him. “Was someone worried about little old me?” You rolled your eyes, but failed to hide your smile. “Don’t be, my best friend’s a very good doctor. She’s very pretty too, like- she could be on Grey’s Anatomy.” He slurred then grinned when he heard you chuckle. “And that’s you,” he booped your nose, “I’m talking about you.”

“I know, and I’m talking about me too when I say I’ve had a very long night and I’m ready to go home.” He nodded with furrowed brows, really trying to process your words. “C'mon,” you wrapped an arm around his waist and directed him towards the exit, “you’re crashing at my place tonight. I’m not leaving you here when someone could literally tap beer out of you.”

“Yes!” He cheered. “I love your apartment, it smells like Christmas because of all the candles you have.” You hummed in acknowledgement at his drunk thoughts. “Hey, you know what’s really funny?” He didn’t wait for a response. “When I read your texts, I read it in an Australian accent because you’re from Australia. I do the same with Chris Hemsworth’s,” he told you then laughed to himself. “G'day mate,” he mimicked a tradition Australia greeting then laughed again.

“I’ve never once texted that to you, nor have I said that to you,” you chuckled. “And since when do I have an Australian accent? I’ve been living in America since I was eighteen, and you know I watch too much American television and too many Hollywood films to have an Australian accent.” The two of you found your way out of the party and into the much emptier parking lot where you car waited patiently. “But then again,” you glanced at him, “you are very wasted, so I won’t hold that against you.”

“Chuck a shrimp on the barbie,” he continued mocking the Australia accent and laughed when you did. “You’re right,” he returned to his normal accent as he pulled away from you, “you don’t sound like that.” He moved in front of you and took your hands in his, smiling like a love sick idiot which made your heart flutter despite knowing it didn’t mean what you wanted it to. “You sound perfect because you are perfect and I love you.”

“I love you too,” you responded with a chuckle, ignoring that ache in your heart. This wasn’t the first time he’d told you he loved you while he was drunk, in fact- he said it all the time when he was sober too. But it wasn’t the confession you longed for, it was just another platonic expression of affection that you shoved aside with your true feelings. “Let’s get you in bed, shall we?” You tried to pull your hands away only to have him tightened his grip.

“No,” he shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I love you,” he said again in a more serious tone that made you sigh. As much as you wanted to reciprocate that feeling and kiss him, you couldn’t take anything he said seriously when he was drunk. Even if you did believe that drunk minds spoke for a sober heart, it was Chris; he was your best friend and you couldn’t ruin that friendship over a drunken slur of the moment. “I want to be with you,” he told you and pulled his hands away to cup your face.

“Chris, no,” you turned away when he started to lean in, taking a small step back. “We’re not going to do this.” You frowned when he did. “You’re drunk, I don’t want-” you cut yourself off before you said more than you should. “Let’s just go home, okay?” You brushed past him and headed for you car, stopping when he called out.

“I’m sober enough to have this conversation!” He walked in front of you with a frown on his face. “I’ve been trying to tell you I love you since the moment I met you, Y/N. But you keep brushing me off, like you think I’m not worth your time.”

“Chris-” you couldn’t believe you made him feel that way.

“Am I not good enough for you?” He asked then asked again before you could get a word in, “are you holding out for another doctor?” You opened your mouth to speak only to get cut off again, “what is it, Y/N? Why won’t you give me a chance?!” He growled and you flinched. “I don’t understand,” he shook his head, his pretty blues glistened with tears. “I’m not an idiot- I can see the way you look at me, so why won’t you be with me?”

“Chris,” you sighed as you took his hand in yours. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me, I honestly thought that you were fine with us just being friends.” He didn’t say anything, he just squeezed your hand ever so gently. “That’s why I didn’t say anything- that’s why I brushed you off. I figured you were joking, it’s not because I don’t think you’re worth my time.”

“Do you realize how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He asked with a breathless chuckle. “From the moment we met- I’ve wanted to be with you. I was just so terrified I wasn’t good enough, that you wouldn’t want to be with an actor so- I took it slow, I started out by being your friend. But God,” he started to cry and your heart ached, “it hurt seeing you with other people. It sucked saying I love you when you didn’t know how much,” his hand tightened around yours. “I’ve wasted so much of my life not being your other half and I hate it, Y/N.”

“You are my other half, Chris,” you caressed his face with your other hand and brushed the tears rolling down his cheek. “I love you too. I’m so in-love with you that it’s ridiculous,” you told him and he smiled. “There is no one I’d rather see at the end of the day than you. You are my person, you are all I see when I look towards the future,” you assured him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry-” He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, cutting you off in the best possible way.

“Wow,” you let out a breathless laugh when he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, rubbing small circles into your sides, “I should’ve done that years ago.”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @xoxomioxoxo @imaginesofdreams @ateliefloresdaprimavera @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @caitsymichelle13 @michellekeehlmello @letterstomyself21 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @sammyrenae68 @brobrobreja @elizabeth-matsuoka @thegirlwiththeimpala @camerica96 @all-of-the-above11 @captainamerica-ce @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @siofrataylor @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @imaginary-world-of-mine @wanderingkat77 @grantward3 @rileyloves5 @chrsmom302 (Inbox me if you’d like to be added to the tag list)

What Happens In Vegas: The Final Part

A Bucky x Reader / AU drabble series

Master List

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long! Idk if anyone knew but I was going through some rough patches for a little while. Gonna try to write on a regular basis now. Anyways, here is the final part. There will be an epilogue! Let me know what you think. I love hearing from you! ♥

Word Count: 2,101

Warnings:
- language, maybe?

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine.

Bucky followed you around the next morning like a lost puppy. He was nervous, constantly biting his nails, his hands fidgeting. You drank at least three cups of coffee, trying to keep your mind clear and alert for the sure shit storm that was going to be this trial. You had put out all the stops to pull these strings; normally, cases like this didn’t go to trial for months. But you knew people and, although you didn’t exercise that privilege often, you were glad it was there.

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You’ll always have me ∾ montgomery de la cruz

Originally posted by despairingfever

posted 4/13/17

request? yes
Saw that you said you wrote for 13rw and I just had to request. Can you do an imagine where the reader and Montgomery are best friends and the reader is Justin’s little sister so when the mom’s boyfriend beats her she goes to Montgomery and he comforts her and more fluff? Thank you !

pairing(s): justin x sister!reader , montgomery x reader (platonic) 

warnings: plenty of cussing

words: 1032

a/n: i couldn’t find any other gifs so that was the best i could find, oops.
have a request? click here


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anonymous asked:

57 with fluff ending?

Her (Yoongi x Reader Angst/Fluff)

Prompt request: “You don’t understand, you never do!”

Summary: Yoongi is still close with his most recent ex. He doesn’t think much of it, and he’s told you many times that he doesn’t have any feelings for her. But when they dated for years, and you’ve only been in the picture for a few weeks, you can’t help but feel a little insecure. 

Word count: 1.7k words

Originally posted by jeonbase

You yawned quietly, snuggling into Yoongi’s lap. The movie playing in front of you was boring, and it already hours past midnight. As you fought the urge to fall asleep, you turned your head to see how your boyfriend was faring.

Above you, Yoongi’s face was illuminated by the bright screen of his phone. He was typing away, completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. Every now and then, his lips would quirk into a smile or he would laugh breathily.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice slurring slightly due to your exhaustion. Yoongi glanced down at you, his eyes wide with surprise as if he had forgotten you were there. “I’m getting sleepy.

“Oh, I’m just texting Eunha,” Yoongi replied, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall above his television. You couldn’t help but frown at the mention of Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend, and the fact he was talking to her while you were supposed to be spending time together. “Yeah, it’s getting late. I didn’t even notice. You gonna head to your dorm?”

You sat up quickly and grabbed the remote that was beside you. You turned off the TV and stood up. “Yeah,” you answered curtly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” Yoongi sighed, running a hand over his face tired. He stood up, too, and tucked his phone into his back pocket. “You know that we’re just friends. There aren’t any feelings between us. Besides, we were friends before we dated, I’m not just gonna cut her out of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said resignedly, looking at your feet instead of Yoongi. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just me.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Yoongi said softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m dating you because I like you, not anyone else. Don’t worry about stuff like that, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, returning your boyfriend’s smile with a small one of your own. Yoongi pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Come on, it’s already late,” Yoongi said, grabbing your head and threading his fingers through yours. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” you laughed, trying to disentangle your hand from his. He wouldn’t let go. “Really, it’s fine. My residence is like, a five minute walk away.”

“So?” Yoongi asked, his eyebrow raised challenging. “It’s dark. Something might happen. And besides, I want to.”

“If you insist,” you conceded teasingly. The two of you slipped into your shoes and exited Yoongi’s small dorm, hand in hand and smiling the entire way back to your place.


A few days later, you and Yoongi were supposed to meet up at a quaint coffeeshop for brunch. You had planned the date a few weeks ago. Yoongi was fairly late, so you wondered if he had forgotten. You pulled out your phone to see no new messages. Sighing, you started to text Yoongi.

SENT 10:27 AM

Hey r u coming?

RECEIVED 10:32 AM

Yeah I’m OMW. Sorry about that.

SENT 10:33 AM

It’s cool. I’m gonna order so I don’t get kicked out tho

RECEIVED 10:36 AM

I just bumped into Eunha. She just got in from Daegu today. Do you mind if she comes along?

SENT 10:37 AM

Seriously Yoongi?

RECEIVED 10:40 AM

I know, I know. But she’s not gonna have any time to see me otherwise. I haven’t seen her in months, Y/N.

SENT 10:42 AM

Fine. Do what you want.

And when Yoongi and Eunha waltzed into the coffeeshop, eyes bright with laughter and huge smiles, you regretted texting that.

Yoongi spotted you quickly, and shot you an apologetic smile before leading Eunha to where you were sitting. You hated to admit it, but she was really pretty. Her and Yoongi probably made a great couple.

“Y/N, this is Eunha,” Yoongi introduced as they sat down in front of you. “Eunha, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Oh!” Eunha exclaimed, looking a little flustered once she realized she was interrupting a date. Still, she smiled dazzlingly at you. “It’s so nice to meet you. Me and Yoongi are old friends, and we haven’t seen each other in a long time. I didn’t know you were supposed to be on a date, though.”

“Nice to meet you, too!” you replied cheerfully, although your smile was not as genuine as you tried to make it. “And it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Damn, Yoongi,” Eunha laughed, shoving him in the shoulder. “You’re such a shitty boyfriend. I’m so glad I broke up with you.”

“Hey, she said it was fine!” Yoongi said defensively, though he was laughing. “And I broke up with you, for the record.”

“Whatever,” Eunha snorted, picking up the menu from the table. “We should order. This place looks really good. Oh! Yoongi, they have crêpes. Your favourite!”

“Oh, really? Awesome,” Yoongi smiled. You bit your bottom lip, frustrated that you didn’t know that, and even more frustrated that Eunha did. “I’ll have that then, I guess.”

The two friends conversed easily, catching up for lost time. Soon, they began talking about old friends–ones still living in Daegu that you hadn’t even heard of–and you stopped listening. The food arrived shortly after, and you slowly ate your Belgian waffles as Yoongi chatted away.

You watched him devour his chocolate crêpes, and then yell when Eunha snatched a piece with her fork. They looked like the couple, not you and Yoongi, But you bit your lip and said nothing, not wanting to make a scene.

In what felt like hours later, everyone had finally finished their food. Still, neither Yoongi nor Eunha looked like they had intentions of leaving anytime soon. The two of them hadn’t addressed you in the last few minutes, so you played idly on your phone.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom real quick,” Eunha announced, her chair scraping against the floor as she stood up. You winced at the sound. “Be right back!”

Eunha bounced away in search of the restroom. Once she was out of sight, Yoongi turned to you excitedly.

“So what do you think?” he asked. “She’s really fun, right? You should talk more, I think you two would make great friends.”

“Are you being serious, Yoongi?” you hissed, incredulous. “I’m sure she’s a great person, but really? We’re on a fucking date right now.”

“You said it was fine!” Yoongi exclaimed, his smile slipping away. “And I rarely get to see her. Forget that we dated–she’s one of my best friends. You know, it’s hard leaving half my life behind in Daegu. I’m sorry for wanting to see my friends and introduce them to you.”

“It’s not about that, you asshole,” you snapped, standing up. “You can be friends with whoever you want Yoongi. But think about this in my perspective, okay?”

You grabbed your thin jacket from behind your chair. Pulling a bill from your pocket, you threw it onto the table. “That should cover my food,” you said, turning to leave. “I’ll see you later. There’s no point in me staying.”

“Y/N, you’re being ridiculous,” Yoongi growled, his voice deepening angrily. “I don’t understand why you’re–”

“You don’t understand, you never do!” you interrupted. “We’ll talk about this later. Tell Eunha I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say bye.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked out of the store.

Secretly, you were hoping Yoongi would come after you, but he didn’t.

With nothing to do, you wandered around aimlessly. Eventually, you came across a familiar landmark. There was a small park in the middle of the downtown area. You and Yoongi had been there several times together.

You walked slowly through the familiar setting, coming across a small pond. It was cool outside, so there weren’t as many animals as there were the last time you had came with Yoongi. There was a bench nearby, so you flopped onto it and stared at the blue sky above you, letting your mind wander to anywhere but Yoongi.

Still, you couldn’t help but think about the events that had just transpired. You were angry with Yoongi, but you were even angrier at yourself for being so insecure. Sighing, you pulled your jacket tighter around you and stood up, ready to leave.

“Y/N,” Yoongi panted from behind you, his voice too familiar to miss. You spun around, mouth agape in surprise. “I had no idea where you went. Took me so long to find you.”

“I didn’t think you were going to follow me,” you replied, crossing your arms. Still, seeing Yoongi before you, breathless and sweating in his desperation to find you, dissipated your anger. Sighing, you spoke again. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. You were wrong to do what you did, but I overreacted and I apologize for that.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yoongi said with a small smile, moving closer to you. “I realize now that I’ve been pretty shitty. Not just for bringing Eunha on our date, but because I even let you feel any type of jealousy over Eunha.”

“My feelings are my own,” you snorted, uncrossing your arms as Yoongi had a move to hold your hands. You let him, his warm hands completely engulfing your frigid ones. “They’re mine to deal with.”

“No,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “I’m not good at talking about things like this. But it’s my fault for not telling you how much I love you and how much you mean to me. If I did, you would know that what I feel to you is incomparable to what I feel–or felt–for Eunha.”

“How much you love me?” you teased, although your heart was hammering in your chest. Yoongi had never said that before, and you didn’t either because you didn’t want to pressure him.

“Yes, how much I love you,” Yoongi repeated, his cheeks turning bright red. “I’m sorry I never told you before. But it’s true. I’m sorry I made you think that my feelings for you were anything less than that.”

“Well, you’re forgiven,” you laughed, pressing a quick peck against Yoongi’s lips. “And, for the record, I love you too.”

And, much later, you realized Yoongi had been right. You and Eunha made great friends, and Yoongi was beginning to regret ever introducing the two of you.

- Girl in Luv

Ok…so I was going to make this a Tutor!Yoongi thing, but I’m like 99% sure that’s not what any of the anons were requesting. But if you want a tutoring AU…like let me know. Thanks for requesting to all the people who did! I hope you enjoyed. As always, thanks for reading 💛

Wrong Loves Her Company (NSFW 18+)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I’m still a little sick and this weekend was crazy so it took me long than normal to finish this. This just a drabble, so it’s a little shorter than normal. Also, this part is based off the assumption that you’ve read part 6  so if you haven’t, I would read it so certain things make more sense. The finale (part 7) will be coming out on Sunday. I’m not ready, but it’s going to be long and angsty. I hope this holds you over until then. Also this is from Dylan’s POV, if I didn’t already mention that. Love you always, babes.

Thanks to: @writing-obrien

Warning: Oral

Word Count: 2612

Part 1-6 [Here]:

Originally posted by stiles-and-lydia-tho

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Culture Shock part 3 (Jungkook angst)

His heartbreak wasn’t fresh and all-consuming. It was old and dull.

Originally posted by jookyunhoe

Part one Part two Part four

Word count: 1.8k

Genre: Angst


“Be honest. Deep down, could you see yourself marrying someone like me?” Your voice was cracking. He could tell you were trying not to cry.

Yes,” he said without hesitating. “One day, in the future, yes. I’m not ready to think about it seriously right now, but I hope that we’ll get married someday.”

You blinked at him. He gave you a reassuring smile, hoping that he had salvaged the situation.

“And what about your parents?” you asked.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then picked up his phone from the table. He opened his recent calls and tapped his mom’s name. It started to dial.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, afraid she might somehow hear.

His mom answered quickly. He put her on speakerphone.

“Hello? We only just hung up, Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, Mom,” he said. “You’re on loudspeaker.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I’m here with my girlfriend,” he said, then held the phone up to you.

“Hello…” you said warily, frowning at him.

“Oh. Hello,” his mom said, equally wary.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention her before. I was worried about what you would say because she’s a foreigner and I thought that might make you a little uncomfortable.”

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I Was Wrong - Jughead Jones

Requests: Omg thank you so much for open book it is so so GOOD! I was wondering if maybe you could do one where jughead and the reader are dating and they get into a fight and the reader tells jughead “if you walk out that dint ever come back” and the next day jughead is in the hospital because he attempted suicide and they get back together and it’s just really fluffy

Hi there! So I really hope this was okay :/ I tried my best but obviously it’s a very sensitive topic <3

Warnings: angst, suicide attempt, swearing, sad cinnamon roll :C

Words: 3,812

This was too much for you. You knew that your boyfriend Jughead was getting in deep when he started his novel on the murder of Jason Blossom. You didn’t think much of it back then though. When he joined the Blue & Gold, you didn’t think much of it. When he started cancelling on you to go on sleuthing missions with Betty, is when you started to notice that it wasn’t all quite right.

It wasn’t that you were jealous, because you weren’t. Jughead and Betty had known each other for a long time, practically since childhood and you respected that. Nothing romantic had ever seemed to come from it though. You also trusted Betty not to hurt you like that, she was one of your best friends and was opting to stay out of relationships ever since her heartbreak with Archie, she wouldn’t risk it. 

No, you were worried that he was going to get himself in trouble with the law, or that the murderer who was running around town was going to catch onto the fact that he was on their trail and would off him before he had the chance to speak out. You were scared for Jughead in every living moment and he treated it so casually, was he not even concerned for his own safety?!

He’d also been spending less time with you. You didn’t want to be clingy but with the sleuthing for the writing and the writing for now both his novel and the newspaper, he just didn’t have enough hours in the day. The two of you had a special bridge, south of Sweetwater River where he’d asked you to be his girlfriend a year ago. It was your special bridge, and you would always meet there to just sit in comfortable silence, or talk and reflect about what was going on in your lives, think about the future and try and laugh through your existential crisis. You treasured those hours. They made you feel human, normal and alive in this crazy small town, which was being torn apart by this murder… piece by piece.

You hadn’t met there in weeks. You hadn’t kissed or embraced the boy you loved in weeks. Heck, you hadn’t had a proper, deep conversation with the boy you loved in weeks. That stung deep.

The car broke you. The car took it too far.

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