#i want to tear myself to shreds i am so tired of this fucking illness

[foxsnails]

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[fly-flower-fanfics]

Can you do a Spencer Reid X Reader where the Reader is ftm and binds with ace bandages? The unsub can be targeting transgender people and targets the reader. Nothing too bad to the reader preferably but something happens to make the bandages visable. I know that binding with bandages is bad because I did it until I got a binder.

Sorry this took me so long. I’ve been out of it lately, so this is my first writing piece getting back into the swing of things, so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I hope this is something you were looking for!

Binding Secrets

Spencer Reid x Trans Male Reader

Warnings: ACE bandage binding. PLEASE don’t bind like this. 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This case was really stressful to me. It stressed me out more than other cases usually did. I’m sure the team has picked up on it, but I didn’t want to tell them why I was so stressed out. That was my secret and my secret alone.

There was no way I was going to be able to come out to the team. After I’ve gotten top surgery, then maybe, maybe, but certainly not now. Being transgender was a crime, it felt like. It was to this unsub apparently.

It was late and time for all of us to go home. The I could take these stupid ACE bandages off. I felt like my lungs were collapsing; it hurt to breathe. I knew that it wasn’t safe, especially for a job like mine where we have to be on the move a decent amount, but I hadn’t gotten around to buying a binder yet.

I was stopped by Spencer just before I got into my car, though. Part of me didn’t mind because I had a crush on the genius, but another part of me did mind because I was tired, and I just wanted to go home.

“What’s up, Spence?” I asked.

He hesitated a moment, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’m worried about you,” he said softly at first. He then cleared his throat. “You’ve been acting different lately, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I said with a soft smile. Was I? 

“Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying to me. You have a tell, just like everyone else. Please...”

I felt bad lying to him, But I couldn’t tell him. My throat tightened like I was going to cry. “I need you to drop it, Spence,” I said softly

“Why? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because I can’t, Spencer!” 

He shook his head, dropping his arms by his side. “This is exactly what I get when I trust someone; it gets thrown back in my face.”

“Spencer, that’s not what this fucking is!” I yelled at him, tears now streaming down my cheeks.

Spencer’s demeanor changed completely as he noticed my tears.

“It has nothing to do with you, Spencer,” I said, wiping at my face aggressively. I hated that I was crying so easily. But I knew it was because of my stress and how close I was to snapping. 

Truth was was that I was scared. I was scared that I would be the next victim. That I wouldn’t be safe in my own home. All because I was trans and some guy out there thought that that was a crime and needed to kill me for it.

“Y/N....”

I shook my head, holding up a hand. “Save it. I’m sorry for yelling at you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go home now.” With that, I got into my car and left.

The next day, I was really anxious to see Spencer. I had already apologized for yelling at him, but that didn’t change the fact that I had yelled at him.

I went to the bathroom and grabbed my ACE bandage, looking at it sadly. I hated that stupid thing. I could feel it practically squishing my ribs and lungs. I hated it so much. I couldn’t just not wear it though. I didn’t need the team seeing my chest.

I began wrapping it around and secured it in place once I was finished. I took a breath and sighed. At least it wasn’t too bad in the beginning of the day.

I made my way to my car and began to drive to work. The anxiety of seeing Spencer returned. I felt bad. Maybe I should apologize again. I pulled into my parking spot and shook my head. No, if he still had beef with me, he would say so, right?

I walked to my desk and set my things down, going to grab a coffee. As I made it, I was already making a face because I knew how bad;y it would taste.

“You know, I have to make my coffee deliberately bad so I can drink it now,” I said to Morgan, who has just walked in. 

He laughed. “I know what you mean. However, I still like a good cup of joe.”

I chuckled softly and went back to my desk, looking over the case file. We had a pretty good idea who the unsub was. We had just been waiting on Garcia to get the right information about him. 

The team quickly left, leaving Spencer and me behind, as they went to catch the unsub.

My gaze turned toward the genius again. His hair looked soft as it framed his face. His beautiful eyes intently read whatever book he was reading. His perfect hands turned the pages every couple of seconds. 

Best not to disturb him.

I looked over the last bits of information as I was clearing off the board to make a little bit more room when I realized something. The gate. How had we missed that? The gates were his signature, doors to whatever he thought. I couldn’t figure out that part. But it made me realize that now, the team was going after the wrong guy.

I quickly grabbed my coat and ran out to my car. I had to catch this guy before he caught someone else. I swallowed hard as I threw my car into gear. Who else would be better bait for this guy than a trans man like myself?

I made my wait to the gate that was in the last picture and entered the abandoned house. This was where the last victim was found, but we had figured that he liked to revisit the crime scenes. I was just banking on the fact that he hadn’t revisited this one since it had been blocked off for a couple of days.

I drew my gun and tip-toed quietly through the halls. A squeaky floorboard gave away my position, and I froze. Had he heard? Was he even here? I shook my head and continued down the hallway.

I heard a noise from behind me. I turned, but I wasn’t able to see what or who it was before something hit me in the face and knocked me out.

I woke up, dazed and confused. I tried to move but realized that my arms were tied behind me and I was stuck to a pole. I jerked to try and free myself, but it was useless.

The unsub walked over to me, twirling a knife around his fingers. “Y/N L/N, I am familiar with you. The only trans member in the BAU, isn’t that right?” 

I sneered at him, still trying to free myself. “So the fuck what? How do you even know who I am?”

“Oh, I know a lot more than you may think,” he said, walking up to me and lifting my chin with the knife. “But that’s all surprise for later on.” 

He slashed at the sleeve of my coat with his knife. “First, we play a game. It’s called Tell Me The Truth Or I’ll Take One Article Of Clothing At A Time.”

“Long title of a stupid ass game,” I muttered to myself, mentally cringing. Sometimes I hated that I was always so snippy.

He slashed at the other sleeve of my coat. “Got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

His stupid little game continued as I tried my best to keep my mouth shut. But it seemed like no matter what I did, he was slashing at my clothing. There was no sign of sexual assault on the victims, but did he do this to all of them? Somehow, I couldn’t seem to remember anything about this unsub.

My knees shook as fear began to take over my body. What would happen when he shredded my clothing to the point that there was nothing left of them? Would he go to my skin next? One of the victims was all slashed up, I think. I shook my head, trying to keep m mind clear. I needed to be safe long enough for someone to find me.

A hand around my neck made me look up and realize the unsub was behind me now, holding the knife to my neck. My eyes fell to a person standing at the base of the stairs: Spencer Reid. My heart filled with joy. Thank god for Spencer and his big brain.

“Put the gun down or I’ll kill her,” the unsub said, pressing the knife deeper into my throat.

I winced, but at the misgendering, not the knife. 

“He’s a he,” Spencer replied, holding his gun in the same position as he was five seconds ago. 

“I said, put the damn gun away!” 

The knife bit my skin, causing me to cry out. This made Spencer put his gun away. 

“All right, all right, look. The gun’s away. It’s away. Let him go.”

“I’m not letting her go. People like her need to be fixed. They’re mentally ill.”

My stomach tightened at the midgenderment. It sucked because he was going to tell Spencer my secret. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out everything that was happening. Things would be okay. They had to be okay. I had to believe that. I had to believe that I’d make it out of here. I prayed Spencer wouldn’t tell the rest of the team my secret. 

All I ever wanted was to be seen as a real boy...

The next thing I knew, my hands were being untied and there was a slight ringing in my ears. I looked down next to me to see the unsub, dead. Spencer must have been able to convince him to get far enough away from me for him to draw his gun and shoot the guy before either one of us got stabbed.

“Y/N, are you all right?” I nodded, and Spencer pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We’ll get you new clothing. Do you want to come to my house?”

I guess it was obvious to Spencer that I didn’t want to be alone. I nodded silently and he led me out to his car. “We’ll come back for yours later,” he promised me. 

At this point, I didn’t really care. My head hurt from being knocked out, and my chest was aching all over again.

Our car ride was mostly silent, but Spencer spoke up. “How did you know it was him?”

“The gate,” I replied. “Something about the gates never lined up in my head. But then it reminded me of why he always kept the eyes open. They were like portals. To what, I’m not sure...”

Spencer nodded and hesitated before speaking again. “You’re binding unsafely...”

I didn’t know what he was talking about until i looked down. My shirt was shredded, and it was easy to see the ACE bandages that was supposed to be hidden. I cursed myself, squeezing my eyes shut. 

“Please don’t tell anyone, Spence. I don’t want them to know I-I didn’t want anyone to know...”

“Is that why this case bothered you so much?”

I didn’t say anything, but my silence was probably the clearest answer. Spencer didn’t say anything else until we got to his house. He led me inside and sat me down on the couch. 

“I can grab you some clothing to borrow for tonight, but I need you to take that bandage off. You’re going to ruin your changes for top surgery. It can seriously hurt you. it can crack or break ribs and-” 

“I know, Spencer,” I said softly. “But I can’t. I’m scared...”

“My shirt’s will be big enough on you. I promise. And if you want, I’ll stay in my room all night so I won’t see you without it on. You...” He stopped a moment. He closed his eyes for a second before looking at me again. “You can borrow one of my old binders tomorrow. It may not fit perfectly, but it’s so much better than that bandage.” Spencer sat next to me on the couch.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Spencer....Spencer had just come out to me as trans. I couldn’t believe it. He was trans this whole time too? My emotions welled up in my chest, and I felt like crying all over again.

“I love you,” I blurted out. Immediately, I felt myself blush, and I regretted my words.

Spencer only smiled at me. “I love you; I always have.”

I looked down at my lap, feeling a tear drip down my cheek. “Spence, I’m scared... I-I love you. But I’m so scared...”

“Of what?”

“Of what the team will say. That...that you’ll hate me for being trans...”

“Y/N, I can’t hate you for being trans when I’m trans myself.” Spencer took my hands in his. “If you want to leave the confessions alone for tonight, I understand. You’ve been though a lot. We can talk more in the morning when you have a clearer mind. Just promise me you’ll take that ACE bandage off.”

“I promise,” I said quietly. 

Spencer stood and pressed a light kiss onto my forehead. “Thank you. Now let me go grab you those clothing so you can turn in for the night. I’ll be here if you need anything at all.” He got up and began to walk down the hallway to his bedroom.

“Spencer?” I called out.

He stopped and looked back at me from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[mushykat]

i am failing 4 classes

I’m sick and I don’t like it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t like how it hurts to wake up. I don’t like how the feeling of hearing damage is the only thing grounding me to a plain of nothing but heartache and tragedy. I hate how much I’ve let myself spiral. I’m tumbling down a black spire that I’ve built for myself. What lays at the bottom will hopefully kill me when I connect with the waters below. 

Sometimes I want to draw. The picture I want to use to express the swirling mass of razors and burnt scraps of thoughts that plague my consciousness never turns out how I want them to. I don’t want to sit down and put time into something that I cannot love. It’s why I refuse to try and dig myself from the pit laden with the shreds of memories I hold on to in order to justify the horrible things I see. 

I don’t want to write as a career. A career path means choosing a secondary school, and it means going and applying myself to something. I can’t put the effort into keeping myself afloat in the sea of that of which troubles me, and yet I’m expected to weigh myself down with books full of repeated sentences that will suffocate me with a bad credit score and the inability to apply for a loan. 

I don’t want money to be spent on me for college. I’m going to do bad and eventually give up, like I always do. I never apply myself to anything like I should. I know better. As I sit and write, and let the crisp feeling of the screen sear the exhaustion ridden pupils I’ve tormented as such the night prior, I have assignments I haven’t turned in. If I can’t bother to not fail an 11th grade math class over my own impotence, then how am I supposed to swallow down the poison that is higher education. 

What’s the point of using flowery language to cover the corpse of what I write? What will the sprouts of tulips and daisies do against the rot of myself. Why must I try and work every word into an intricate tapestry to illustrate the images my hands refuse to draw. Why do I try to form the pictures my mind refuses to accept of what I see of myself. Why am I fucking sick? 

I can feel the rise and fall of my chest, and yet my lungs always feel empty. I can feel the beat of a heart cradled behind the intertwined digits of marrow that tuck it away in a forest of fleshy fat, and yet I wonder if I am truly living. Is this all life is to be? Am I expected to carry on in the future. Carry on and carrion are easy to mix up, I presume. But what a simple mistake for such a bloated carcass such as myself.

I feel like if I try to chase after the fleeting ideological wisps of smoke that arise from the coals I smother, and do in fact explore writing as a career, I fear I will run out. I think the only mirrors I can truly accept are the ones others have pointed towards me. The only thing I can see anymore is warped and distorted by the heat of a long burnt-out inferno that ate away at the only thing I could hold dear to myself. 

These little mirrors sit behind my eyes, and reflex off of each other. They shine beams of light to one another, as some sick paradox that I am too shaded to partake in. I want to see the light, but I fear what I may see if I allow illumination into the crevices of where I hide. The dark is cold and safe, and lets me shelter away from that which wishes to harm me. 

The world isn’t out to get you, after all. The only mantra I can remember clearer than the burning gazes of reflected disdain directed towards me. Are the shattered mirrors that try to piece my reality together warped from the heat of myself or others? I think I know who ignited me, but I would rather let the coals die away as I wish for myself. I envy the carbon lumps sitting in the sludge pooled at my feet. 

I am one of the ants that get burned alive under a child’s magnifying glass. I can still feel the heat enveloping me, and can taste the smoke as it hangs around my throat in a familiar noose. I welcome it, even. Why else would letting the smog from burning leaves powder kisses of slime and tar across my lungs? I relish the taste I’m left with. It is impure.

Impurity is the only state I know. Disgrace and dissidence is the only way for me to view myself through the shattered lenses that have been scratched and dulled with age. I wish I could pry them out of my skull with the screwdriver that sits in the drawer on my desk. Maybe if I slipped them out of my head and gave them a good rinse, I could have a clean look at the world around me. Maybe I could be happy. 

What’s to say they aren’t responsible? Holding tender orbs with a sheen of slime from the crevice they reside, smeared with the crimson shame that comes with self mutilation. I wonder if I could view myself with such an event. Could I get a good look? Could I watch myself desecrate the corpse that I walk in? 

Maybe my eyes aren’t the problem. The ants nibbling behind my eyes made my sight throb, as if what I’m viewing of the world is wrong. It’s never right, though. Maybe the ants are just more noticeable when I decide to grace them with acknowledgement. But they’re not real, of course. The idea of something being out of place would require something to be wrong, which there isn’t. I know because you told me. :)

I hate writing. It’s horrible and I’m disgusted with anything I read from myself. I do not approve of the venom that drips from my lips, and yet I refuse to pull my fangs. Maybe I could shatter the rest of my teeth while I’m at it. I could run my tongue over the raw indents where the abused shards of enamel I refused to care for would be. But since when do I care about taking care of myself? I’m scared of what I write. Every word is a little sliver of the mirrors that have cracked behind my eyes. The tears that fall hold shards of the reflective glass, and lands upon the scarred hands with which I type. I’m scared that the mirrors will be gone, and I’ll be forced to see the reality of what is before me in its entirety. And yet, I’m more scared of running out of escaping sorrow.

Why would I pursue a career in writing when I don’t know of what I write? Why would I try to make money off of a skill I do not have? What’s the point of humoring the idea that I can write? The illness that lets the steady drip of sickly ichor flow through me is the only reason I can type as I do. It’s the one who puppeteers this horrid poppet of flesh bound sinew and bone. If I am not sick, then how will I write? 

I cannot write. There is nothing to write about. Any of the scorch marks sitting heavy in my chest, and any of the burns lingering against my face from the reflected magnitude of the heat of the abhorrence of the mirrors others hold are from fault of my own. I am the reason I am sick, and I am the reason I refuse to get better. The feeling of the keys popping under my fingers is proof enough that I am not dead, and yet I let myself make allusions as to why I can only experience a dullness in place of stimulations. 

Every time I try to sit down and write like this, I try to crack a piece off of the mirrors. They’re melted into a grotesque putty, and it’s not delicate work to try and pry shards of it apart. I can swing and shatter the mass of heathenry, but then I would have to stare into the space between the shards. The spaces where I can see. 

How long can I chisel at a deformity before it is gone? Doesn’t the idea of writing to clear my mind imply that there's an end goal. That perhaps I can someday empty myself of the acid that eats away at the tissue behind my eyes. Doesn’t that mean that I’m the reason I’m ‘sick’? I don’t have the right to be upset. I know this. It’s my fault. 

The way others see me is the same, even if they claimed to have shifted their realities. Is it so easy? Why haven’t I done it for myself? I know why. I am lazy and prefer the glorification of necrophagous fantasies over the reality that the only rot in me is my own. The only poison that reaches me comes from inside. The bed of soil I rest in is free from mites and grubs, and yet I wrote. The only desecration is my own. 

As I write and try to put these pathetic ideas against a sickly backdrop of a fake shade of white, I can’t help but yawn., It seems to be tiring to do the most basic of tasks. Sometimes I wish that I could lay amongst the blankets marred with the imbecility of myself and not be roused. I want to slumber for the rest of time, and let the roots overtake me. Maybe as my flesh is eaten away and my bones are dissolved by a hundred rains, I could finally rest. 

I wish that I could bash my head against the wall and shatter everything going on inside of me. If it was in pieces, maybe it would be easier to weep under the rug. I want to hide it from myself. I don’t have anything wrong with me, I am just a hypochondriac that has done too much research. I know seven people who could agree with me. I live with three of them. Even if stories change, the words that linger are the ones that left bruises. Lying can’t fix the purple and yellow that litters my mind. 

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t like this. Sometimes I wished I was loved. But why would it change anything? I would be loved and broken. I would be shattered and adored. I would be coddled and ruined. What difference would circumstances make when I’m the one who sets the table against me? I’m the reason the betting is so low. I picked the numbers, and I knew what I was doing. I’m aware of the horrible things I do, and yet I do them. I know I’m failing classes, and yet I write with blurry vision to try and alleviate a fake weight keeping me from breathing. 

I don’t like school. I wish I didn’t have to go. But what else would I do with my day? I’m stupid. I’m tired of being told I’m not. I don't know the things people think I do. I only know things I can remember, and things that I care about. Neither of those apply to much. My mind’s empty enough that the few thoughts I can hold are the only thing keeping me from falling back into the static burning the edges of my subconscious. 

My neck hurts.

[domesticsns]

I'm so curious about what happened at the restaurant between Sasuke and his father.

aAh, yeah that happened after Naori was missing and after Naruto and Sasuke had a very big fight about Fugaku revealing the one who blew the whistle on the military boarding school ran by Danzo was Sasuke and he didn’t know this. 

So Fugaku wanted to patch things up and apologize for the night and he contacted Naruto because he could not get in touch with Sasuke. Naruto talked to Sasuke and convinced him to go. Of course, Naruto is this guy who gives out chances like cheap candy. But he convinced Sasuke and said Fugaku was trying to chance and wasn’t this some sort of improvement that he reached out now than never. 

Sasuke giving it the benefit of the doubt. Decided to tag along and when they reached the restaurant that was actually pretty nice place and not some warn out bar as he had expected his father to choose. This was odd to Sasuke, but his questions were quickly answered when he saw a young women, not older than forty years old next to his father. She had this blond long curly hair and brown eyes and quite big bosoms.They headed to their table and Naruto eagerly introduced himself. He, as Naruto is. Gave Fugaku a hug and the women was like  “Oh I am a hugger too!” and proceeded to hug Naruto and she introduced herself. When she headed to Sasuke. Sasuke couldn’t get away from her faster. It was only that Naruto was standing behind him that he was forced to be a recipient of a hug he never wanted to be in anyway. He didn’t give his father a hand, he just give him an acknowledgement of a nod before they sat down. 

The women started talking. She said how Fugaku, her boyfriend, had told her all about them. Sasuke looks over at his father and then back at the women and interrupts her talking by asking her how old she is  and she chuckles and says a lady never reveals her age. Naruto laughed but Sasuke stared at her intensified. 

She then coughed and said she was 39 and Sasuke looks back at his father and says, “She is as old as your child.” 

“Come on Sasuke...They’re adults, stop.” Naruto said, putting his hand over Sasuke’s and squeezing it which might appear supportive from the outside, but this was Naruto’s  “YOU’RE BEING RUDE, BASTARD!” Squeeze. 

“Right...Sorry.” Sasuke threw back his glass of wine before grabbing a waiter and says: “I need something stronger...Bring me scotch and whenever see my glass empty you fill. Okay?” He grabs a fifty note and puts it in the waiter’s pocket.

So Naruto is talking to Fugaku’s girlfriend. Naruto talks about his job with children and she talks about her job as a hairdresser and Fugaku chipped in he conversation a little and Sasuke wasn’t talking...Didn’t want to talk either. But the woman was kindly trying to talk to Sasuke too. She starts talking about his job but Sasuke was being very short with her. Then she tried to compliment him by telling him he was very good looking. 

“Thank you. I take after my mother who shot through the head because she was struggling with mental illness and my father dismissed it as her being an attention seeking whore.” He looked at his father who snapped he had never spoken so ill of his late wife.  Sasuke said he might as well have because she was dead either way. 

“I am sure things were...Different back then,” the women said and she wrapped her arms around Fugaku’s and said, “he has been nothing but supportive with my son. He was going such a rough path with his biological father. I thought he would be broken forever, but then Fugaku came in our lives and we couldn’t be happier.” 

“Oh you have son....” Sasuke looked at his dad. 

“Tell us more about him,” Naruto tired to stir the conversation a little to something more positive. 

“Well he is 13 and not even that long ago he was a she.” She said proudly. “When he came out to us about how he felt. I knew he was always my son and supported him. But my former husband did not and we got in a lot of arguments and we seperated. This had very emotional toll on Oliver. He blamed himself. He was really depressed, but with a lot of love and support from Fugaku and me and therapy he is doing a lot better. I am so proud of my little boy. He really looks up to Fugaku now, he wants to join the police force and follow in his footsteps. Fugaku is teaching him all these manly things.” She laughed at her own words and when she turned to look at Sasuke he could see such hatred in his eyes it was almost scary. 

“Oliver is trans...” Sasuke said, “You are fine with this, but when you figured out I was in love with Naruto. You packed my bags and send me away!” Sasuke raised his voice. 

“Sasuke no-” Naruto tried to calm him down, but even he knew by Sasuke’s look hew as too far gone. 

“No, you shut up!” Sasuke shouted. 

“You send me away! You abandoned me! My mother shot herself through the head you wouldn’t look me in the eye. When I was unable to talk for three years you locked me in a closet and forced me to piss myself in order to get me to talk while every specialist told you it was mental. And when I found shred of happiness in my live in the form of this dumbass!” He pointed at Naruto, “You send me to an all boys military boarding school in otogakure ran by a guy you barely knew and just left me at his mercy and didn’t even try to find out what was happening behind those locked doors! You cut me off without a second thought and put me through hell where I had to do unthinkable shit to survive!” 

“I was a different person back then,” Fugaku said, “I didn’t know better-” 

“And now you’re suddenly a saint!?” Sasuke shouted. Everybody in the restaurant was staring. “People don’t fucking change!” Sasuke stood up. “I thought when you reached out to me. I was sceptical and I was right to be sceptical! You’re the biggest asshole in this fucking world!” 

“Sasuke if this is about Danzo. I thought it was just a strict school I had no idea what was really going on behind those gates until they were exposed-” 

“YOU’RE CHIEF OF POLICE! IT WAS YOUR FUCKING JOB TO KNOW! YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!” Sasuke screamed.  “YOU KNOW THE SHIT I HAD TO GO THROUGH! THE FUCKED UP THINGS I THOUGHT WOULD EARN YOUR RESPECT ONE DAY JUST FOR YOU TO NOT EVEN SHOW UP WHEN I GRADUATE. TO NEVER EVEN ONCE CONSIDER SIGNING THE PERMISSION SLIP TO GET ME OUT OF THERE, NOT EVEN DURING THE HOLIDAYS!” 

Sasuke broke the fucking table with one kick screaming. 

“Sasuke!” Naruto shouted his husband’s name, this probably prevented him from not twisting Fugaku’s neck on the spot. 

“I could kill you in a heartbeat,” Sasuke grabbed Fugaku by his collar,  “-but the only reason you’re breathing right now is because I love that little gay shit-” he pointed at Naruto, “And he opposed to murder.” He pushed Fugaku away from him before leaving. 

“I am so sorry....” Naruto said getting up looking awkwardly around him seeing all the people looking at him and they looked scared. Some people grabbed their phones and were filming the whole thing. 

“Uhm...” He grabbed his credit card and handed it to the waiter, “Just charge everything on here...I’ll come back for it. Sorry again...Don’t file charges...”  He said as he jogged out of the restaurant and into the rain. Trying to find his husband outside. He finally caught up to Sasuke and had to jog to keep up with him storming rage pace.

“You want to tell me what that is about!? Sasuke! Sasuke, talk to me! You can’t ignore me!” Naruto said, walking behind Sasuke. His husband wasn’t responding. 

“I know what he did to you was wrong, but the whole reconnecting to him was to give him a second chance. He obviously is a changed men he is treating  this woman so kindly and is accepting of her son. When we first met him he didn’t even know there were more two genders and now he is supporting a trans kid because he educated himself on the matter. He is trying, he has regrets. I don’t understand what more you want from him?!” 

“I don’t care what the fuck he does with that kid or that woman. I want nothing to do with him.” 

“Sasuke, you were open about giving him a chance. Why is this not a positive thing to you. Is this not the solid proof that he changed and is more open minded. Why are you angry?” 

“BECAUSE IF HE WAS GOING TO BE THIS CHANGED MAN, WHY COULDN’T HE BE LIKE THAT WHEN I WAS GROWING UP!” Sasuke shouted, turning around. Naruto saw big tears rolling over his cheeks and his heart stopped beating for a second. He had to look twice, so he wasn’t deceived if it wasn’t just the rain rolling off his cheeks. 

“You don’t understand I am his son and he just left me...He broke me...” Sasuke whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. 

Naruto wrapped his arms around Sasuke and hugged him tightly, placing a kiss on his hair as he could hear his husband sobbing. 

“It is not fair what happened to you, Sasuke. I’m sorry. I should not have pushed you into giving your father a second chance.” 

‘Yeah...” He heard Sasuke mutter as he had his face buried in Naruto’s neck. His grip around his husband tightening. They were pretty soaked in the rain as they stood there for a while till Sasuke calmed down and pulled away, rubbing his eyes. Naruto gave him a soft kiss on his lips. 

“I should go back...I broke a table, I need to pay for that.”

“Yeah I gave the waiter my credit card. I can pick it up tomorrow.” Naruto let his hand go through Sasuke’s hair, pushing his bangs back and holding his face in his hand giving him another kiss on his lips. They went to Naruto’s favourite ramen shop and they were soaked as they entered and sat down on the bar stools. Naruto gave Sasuke his jacket because he was wearing a white shirt and leave much for the imagination. Naruto was sticking up the chopstick in his mouth making it look like a walrus teeth and Sasuke chuckled before they ate a hot bowl of ramen as Naruto told Sasuke a funny story that happened at school, making him laugh. 

They ended up going home, throwing their clothes in the hamper before taking a warm bath together. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Girl you need (G.D.)

Summary: Best friends to lovers don’t always work out in your favor.

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied smut

Word count: 3200

Part 2

What’s that saying? Friends to lovers is the best way to build a lasting relationship? Maybe it’s just what I’ve been saying my whole life in an effort to convince myself the feelings I’ve developed were a start of a fairy tale and not a tragedy.

It seems as if every time I had feelings for a guy, they remained unreciprocated. I’d get the textbook line: you’re too perfect to end up with a guy like me, or the occasional: you deserve the world, but I can’t give it to you. Whichever excuse they used, the end result never changed: I wasn’t good enough.

I was never the girl the guys choose and whether I liked it or not, it started to truly affect me.

Confidence slowly dwindled, my beliefs about love faded and worst of all...I stopped letting people in. I’ve shut my heart inside a treasure chest like a precious gem, locking it and forgetting where the key is. A small part of me knowingly lost the key, because if you don’t let people in you won’t get hurt. And I was tired of the hurt.

But then he came into my life.

I found that every question I had, he became the answer to it. The key to my treasure slowly came out of hiding and he personally dusted it off. Now he holds it in the palm of his hand and I am terrified just as I am excited about the prospect of finally being the one.

Grayson...

He is an ambivert, a social butterfly unlike me. He commands every room he enters, while I’m usually hiding in the corner. His aura attracts people by nature and I’m not even sure he understands how powerful his charisma is.

He is intuitive, but he doesn’t let his mind rule, rather his heart. He likes to listen to his heart instead of logic, which is why he gets hurt more often than he’d like to admit. Wearing his heart on his sleeve has marked him a target for those who have anything but good intentions in mind. I know he suffers for it, but I’m always there to make him laugh. Regardless of what I’m doing, I drop everything and help him nurse his wounds. I’ve always been the type that followed my heart, until I forced my brain to step up to protect the weak muscle inside me. He taught me to listen to my heart again, but to bring my brain along for the ride as well.

Grayson is an open book, pages filled with stories I ache to read and a main character I could never get enough of. He’s the type that inspires, bringing out the best in people. Instead of overthinking he overfeels, he’s determined and passionate, altruistic, but he burns out easily. I’m there to help him heal when that happens, whether it be a movie weekend in or a wild adventure where I’m a 100% sure I’m going to die most of the time.

He’s very determined and passionate about things and people he loves. I’ve felt it first hand. He’s got so much love inside him that it’s bursting out the seams, but most of it goes in vain. I tend to be the one to grab any leftovers and bask in his caring nature.

Grayson and I have a connection that surpasses the physical, a deep emotional tether that I’ve been relying on heavily. While we’ve never been more than good friends, the lines between friendship and love have been blurred for the longest time now and I no longer knew where the scale will end up once its tips over.

Sometimes it’s his arm around me, resting on my shoulders casually or his hand on the small of my back that remains in its spot for so long I feel his touch turn to fire. Other times it’s his fingers trailing up and down my spine as I nestle in his side, my head on his chest and his lips ghosting my forehead as his breath moves a few stray hairs out the way. Maybe it’s about the look in his steadfast brown eyes that seem to soften whenever they rest upon me, or the striking smile his lips spread into whenever I walk into the room. Perhaps it’s the warmth of his touch and how I’ve never felt safer than in his embrace, but most of all, it’s about the way he didn’t pull away when we accidentally kissed.

Both going for a cheek, Grayson and my lips connected and although I felt my brain falter and my heart jump, I was sure he’d step back and rub the back of his neck nervously as an awkward chuckle graced my ears. But he didn’t. He barely even flinched before his lips lustfully captured mine for a deeper kiss and his eyes closed as we got lost in each other. I nibbled on his bottom lip tenderly, dragging it between my teeth to assert dominance and the moment his soft flesh escaped my hold, Grayson made sure I knew he was the dominant one. He gripped my thigh tightly, turning needy and every move I made that resulted in our lips parting was a new groan rolling off his lips. We became a mess of tangled limbs, sweat and heavy breathing, moans I’ve stifled by biting into his shoulder as each of his thrusts made me feel like I’ll unravel. It was perfect.

If I knew what I know now, I’d never let it go down.

“I’m just so tired.” I mumble into the phone, making up an excuse to ditch my nightly outing so I could spend the night with the guys, hoping Grayson and I can talk about what happened that night.

When I woke up the next morning, all I found of him was a note on the pillow where his head used to be, the sheets on his side of the bed cold and empty without him.

Last night was just what I needed. It was perfect.

Not exactly the most romantic thing he’d ever said as I’ve seen and heard him flirt with girls. The note just didn’t sit well with me. Knowing him, I half expected to wake up to banana pancakes and a big cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows. A part of me truly believed this night would make him want to bridge the blurred lines between us and finally try and see if there was something to explore at all.

Before last night, I had never let myself feel anything for him no matter how hard my very soul wanted to give in and love him with every fiber of my being. Last night all my doubts have gone, all contingency plans ruined and my damn key was no longer mine.

But Grayson always says he’s not looking for something serious right now. He keeps saying he’s had too many relationships that poisoned him from start to finish and he needed some fresh air and fun.

Was I that fun? Would he do that to his best friend?

After not hearing from him at all, I decided to drop by and initiate the talk myself. I need to know where we stand.

“He’s not home.” Ethan shrugs, letting me inside and I bite my lower lip.

“Thought he’d be here.” I mumble to myself, wondering where he went. I didn’t have to wonder for long as Ethan had the answer prepared for me.

“He’s out with his girlfriend. Tessa, remember?” Ethan raises a brow in question, looking at me a little more intently than usually. His brown eyes scan what’s most likely a shocked, hurt look in mine and I see his frown form slowly and deeply.

“He, uh. He didn’t say they were official. Or anything really. Thought she was just a friend.” I stumble over my words, unsure what to say when my brain feels as if it’s just been drained of any shred of intelligent thought.

“They’ve been dating for a month, Y/N.” Ethan informs me and I find my serious demeanor change into a hurt, almost panicked, high pitched giggle followed by tears in my eyes.

“You good? Kinda scaring me there.” Ethan takes a step closer, pocketing his phone for the first time since I came in. He’s always on that damn thing. My outburst must have truly scared him. I’m never the one to lose my composure.

“I. I’m fine.” I manage to slip out between the giggles, placing a hand over my chest as a ragged breath comes through to my burning lungs.

What the hell am I supposed to say? I think I’m in love with your brother who is also my best friend but he also never told me he’s official with someone and we had sex last night? I don’t think that’s a good idea.

“If you’re so fine, then why are you crying?” Ethan counters, outstretching both arms, leaving his chest wide open for me to fall back on.

And I do.

His arms wrap around me in a protective way, his chin resting atop my head as he listens to my giggles turning into sobs. The strength he holds me up with is enough for me to feel the uncontrollable trembling inside me had now become evident outside as well.

We moved to his bedroom, lying in bed in embrace as I soaked his shirt and smeared make up all over it. The very make up I put on to look cute for his twin.

He waited patiently for me to run out of tears to cry, slowly until my sobs stopped and my chest hurt with the ragged, sharp, pained intakes of breath that came erratically in comparison to his even breathing. My head hurt, my sniffles forced me to blow my nose multiple times and now I had no more in me to move. So I allowed myself to close my eyes and rest on Ethan’s chest as his hand rubbed my back gently, moving in soothing circles.

The door swung open, startling me into opening my eyes and I quickly sit up and face the source that was blatantly unaware of my presence and blurted out a request before focusing on me with widened eyes and parted lips.

“Ethan, turn up the music cause I’m about to f - Y/N?!” He says my name like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like my eyes aren’t bloodshot and puffy from crying my heart out, like he wasn’t about to just say he’s about to fuck another girl. His girl.

“I’m gonna go.” I wipe the nonexistent tears with the back of my hand and move to stand, finding it hard and disorienting for I stumble forward and almost fall into Grayson.

Ethan jumps after me, trying to stop me from leaving while Grayson reached out to grab me and... I don’t know what he wanted to do...steady me? Stop me and ask me not to tell his girlfriend he cheated on her? Whatever the reason may be, I slapped his hand immediately, on instinct. I couldn’t handle his hands on me right now. The thought of his touch made my physically ill.

“What the fuck is going on between you two?” Ethan whisper shouts, peering over Grayson’s shoulder to make sure we’re alone and he can speak freely.

I wrap my arms around me, avoiding their gaze at all costs as my attempt to bypass Grayson once more fails.

I push him back, growing aggravated with him and the pain I’ve held inside quickly turns into anger.

“Will you stop trying to leave and talk to us like a normal human being?!” Grayson shouts and I flinch, taking a step back in genuine fear. He never yells at me. Never. It’s the first time I haven’t felt safe nor happy around him. The first time I wanted to be as far away as possible. I can’t say I’m afraid he’ll hurt me, because there’s nothing more painful than what he already did, but I’m not good with angry outbursts directed toward me. I’ve never been able to handle people yelling at me and he knows this.

He tries to touch me again, but Ethan steps in this time around as I recoil from his brother like a wounded animal.

“What the fuck did you do, bro?” Even in my state, I could hear Ethan’s voice lower and his tone darken with a looming threat as if he’s speaking through his teeth.

“I - We made a mistake last night, okay?” Grayson whispers, making sure his girlfriend can’t hear as his eyes meet mine with the statement.

“Wow.” I scoff, shaking my head. Ethan turns back to look at me, his confused eyes flickering between us, awaiting an explanation.

“Nice to know that’s what you see me as.” I sneer, allowing the anger to fill me once more and the poison spread through my veins.

“I have a girlfriend.” Grayson insists, pressing his lips into a tight line and I nod to myself, pursing my lips.

“Didn’t seem like she crossed your mind while you were balls deep inside me.” I’m a lot of things, but crude has never been one of them. Until now. Even I’m surprised with the venomous words spilling from my mouth, noticing how Ethan’s jaw dropped to the floor with my statement.

“So why did you do it? Huh? To fuck with me and my feelings? Or is it to sabotage not only what you have with the clueless girl in your bedroom but also whatever the fuck connection we had?” I feel myself growing frustrated with him and the silence that hangs in the air as he looks anywhere but in my eyes. He never avoids eye contact, insisting it’s the proper way to talk to someone. I see his jaw clench and his face twist in an almost pained grimace and I know I struck a chord.

“What was last night to you? What am I to you?” I hit my palm against my chest in affect, not feeling but hearing the thud that comes with it.

“I’m not trying to hurt you Grayson, like you’ve done to me. This isn’t a quid pro quo thing. But after everything you’ve learned about me...after all this time, can you honestly tell me you didn’t do what you did because you actually live for the drama and pain in your life? Is this who you’ve become, because it feels like it is? Your life was doing so well that you felt the need to sabotage it so you can revel in the pain of losing not only me, but possibly the girl you came home with?” I know I’m right. It’s because he’s become who I used to be and who he just turned me into once more.

“Fuck you.” Grayson writhes, rage taking over him as well and I see his arm muscles contract under the pressure of his self-imposed control.

“I want her. I want HER.” He repeats, emphasizing and I chuckle dryly, putting my hands on my hips as the last shred of my heart shatters and I remember why I kept it hidden for so long.

“Ever heard of that saying...Don't leave a girl you need for a girl you want.” I remind him of the word he wrote himself, one that I hoped would be a powerful blow to his heart as it is to mine.

“You know...All my life, I’ve tried so hard. And I’m never the one. I’m always the second choice...third choice even! And you say fuck you....well, someday someone will. I can assure you it won’t be you. Ever again.” I run a hand through my hair, moving toward the door he’s no longer blocking and I find myself locking eyes with him for the first time since we started this talk.

“This...whatever it was..” I gesture vaguely between us.

“It’s over.” I swallow thickly, praying I keep it together for a moment longer.

“I’m so stupid for even allowing myself to think you might be different from all the other guys I had feelings for. I thought you’d realize that last night actually meant something to me. That you’re the only guy that’s ever made me fall in love and open my heart to someone again, but in the end it only made the heartbreak deeper and so much worse than anything I’ve ever felt.” I take a step into the hallway, feeling like my chest is about to cave in as the emptiness inside is now a hollow chasm where the bad outweighs the good and everything I wanted to believe in again is lost in the darkness once more.

“Wait.” Grayson grabs me by the arm, pulling me back and around to face him and I use both hands to stop myself from plummeting into him. Palms pressed against his chest, I push back, but his hold on me grows so much stronger that I’m sure I’ll have a bruise to join last night’s collection with a single, but major difference in its inception - last night was passion and this is desperation.

“You felt something for me?” The incredulous look in his eyes is enough for me to be sure he was blind to it all, like I’ve just opened his eyes to a whole new world of possibilities he could have never anticipated.

“Grayson?” A voice sweet as honey comes from across the hall and I can’t help but turn in its general direction. I follow the voice to a stunning girl whose curly locks fall across her almost bare chest, the rest of her body on display in the skimpy underwear she stripped down to.

I bite the inside of my lips, trying to hold myself together as I turn my head back to Grayson who didn’t move his eyes from me. He’s waiting for my answer, but I already gave him one. He chose the girl he wanted over the girl he needed...he can suffer the consequences for all I care.

Tapping his chest lightly with my right palm, I push away from him again and free myself of his relentless hold. His lips part and his eyes water as I take a couple steps back, my own vision turning blurry with the scene. In this moment, both our hearts broke, I could tell. But once I turned my back on him, there was no room for looking back. Not even when Ethan called after me, begging me to stay and talk through this. Not when I heard a thud as if Grayson’s legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Not when Tessa asked for an explanation, half screaming at Grayson.

I can remember being nothing but fearless and truly happy with him by my side, but we’ve become echoes and echoes, they wither, fade away and die.

Tags: @xalayx @fallinginlove-16 @accalialionheart @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch

[dulharpa]

this is for hayley! @whistlingwillows a dear friend <3333

it’s meant to be a birthday present haha. i just want to shower you in love;;; so thought maybe i could go through as many of your fics and comment on them :^)))

(TO EVERYONE ELSE: please go to @whistlingwillows blog and read her fics!!! they are SO FCKIN GOOD AND AMAZING AND UGH HER MIND (it’s a lot of mcu and her bucky and steve fics are a*. i DEFINITELY RECOMMEND))

i wish you a VERY happy birthday and i hope we stay friends for many more years <3333333333 

i’m going through your masterlist heehee ;)))

ah first off, nice theme! i never could rlly see it before because i’m always on mobile heehee. also sorry for not reviewing them before??? i don’t usually read fics on tumblr as you’ve probably guessed;;

anyways, IM GON REVIEW THE SHIT OUT OF THESE >:DDDD

far from home -  bucky x stark sister!reader

firstly, i like how youre introducing the reader from buckys pov, like you can sort of already gather what shes like from them

‘Bucky can hear Tony’s soft inhale, feel the intensity of the man’s glare directed at Steve. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but a twitch of muscle would be enough to alert both men that he’s here. With the amount of tension crackling in the air, a brush against the wall would be equivalent to a thousand cymbals crashing in cacophony.’

IM CRYING ALREADY. the imagery in here is GLORIOUS. your tone here is so fitting! oo and the alliteration here is perfecto

ooooooo!! the backstory coming in  👀👀

‘despite what some people think that Steve and Captain America are two different personas, there will always be parts of Steve in the Avenger, and parts of the Avenger in Steve. They both want to believe in something good. They are, after all, one in the same.// Just as how Bucky and the Winter Soldier are the same man despite everything. HYDRA simply amplified the hate, fertilized the seeds of rage, curated the quiet thunder within his soul, within James Buchanan Barnes so that the Winter Soldier could thrive.’

yIKES! lol this is very character study like! nICE. it hurts tho, my poor children, i love you both 

oo ‘starlight eyes’ that is a very nice way of describing them

‘“Then what was London?” The protesters. “São Paulo?” The earthquake. “Vancouver?” Freezing cold water.//“Look, I care if Stark’s gonna run us over trying to find her. I care enough because she’s part of our team. Come off it, Steve. I know she can take care of herself. I’m gonna take a nap. Dr. Cho said no partying post-Singapore and what do you know, we throw the biggest party ever.’

ooo singapore uwu and london? (coincidence? haha jkjk) and the hints abt reader and buckys background are so good?? but so annoying??? like i just wanna KNOW yknow?? 

‘The water runs copper and the sting bites at his palm as he tries not to think. Tries to focus on the numbing cold that runs over his skin.’ 

your imagery is so vivid?? im actually in awe??? i am so regretful i havent kept reading your fics. like i know they are amazing, i just keep putting them off??? idk man. hopefully this makes up for it (gd tho, im still not done with commenting on one fic. this is what im doing with my motivation teehee ;)

‘ He feels weak. Tired. He wants to go back to bed but he also wants to stay out in the sun for a few hours more. The sun kisses his skin through the windows and he squints against the blue sky, wondering ‘

mood during this quarantine lol

‘“Oh, right.” Your voice is flat, uninterested, cold, as you stare at him. “You killed my parents.”Shit.‘

 OUCH LMAO THATS C O L D, O GOT +100 PHYSIC DAMAGE FROM JUST READING THAT

ooo robin as a nickname noice. very much gives me batman vibes lol

oh! and the way of doing the ‘flashback’ is neat! very original. it both tells us what happened AND buckys reaction to it again. he can re-analyse himself and reader. very cool

‘If you walk away now, don’t bother coming back!” Silence. Bucky can hear his own strained breathing, your soft sigh as you soaked in his ultimatum.’

👀👀 yikes that ultimatum. :// not good bucky. tbf theyre both trying to hurt each other but Yikes

eyy!!! readers pov!! finally! and the switch after we find out the outsiders pov? brilliant

oh no :(( more angst

‘When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”“Don’t have one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”’ they BOTH need therapists;;;;

very good fic!!! :DD they rlly do hate each other! i definitely like how you went back and forth with the timeline! it gave me a v strong idea on what yn was like even before we rlly got introduced. i am now very curious on where reader is? i love your characterisations! 

i will read the 10k+ fics but heck the last one took me ages lolol (i will comment in the future tho!! i promise <3 ) (that took me over an hour jjhghgdjh)

slipping away- amnesiac modern bucky x reader

omg,,, AMNESIA! >:DDDDDD

‘ Put your fucking seatbelt on’

oh no, istg theyre going to have a car crash arent they (’ doesn’t put the seatbelt on to spite you.’ NO PLEASE PUT IT ON U DUMBASS)

ok,,,,, at LEAST he put it on before he got hit, thank heck. but still. youre so cruel to your poor characters lmaoo

oh gosh

‘You fall apart slowly, like pieces of you peeling away until you’re nothing more than your broken heart. The sobs that wrack your body are relentless and you shove your forearm into your mouth to muffle your cries. You want to bite into your skin. You want to distract yourself from the agony tearing you to shreds. You want to feel anything but the pain.///Tears sweep into your hair, cloud your vision and your whole face floods with heat as you try to breathe through the pain. You’re cleaved into pieces on that bed, eyes squeezed shut as the tears keep flowing, and your throat burns’

this hurts damn, it is so vivid?? i can really feel it 

i am so glad you got into writing yk?? so glad

NO PLS, TELL HIM. TELL HIM :((( ‘shes nice once you get to know her?? shes known nat for years now!! years!!

oh god ‘he looks younger without the burden of your time together’ this is so angsty omg

‘Well, he was stumbling through his apology and I just let him finish.” Your body fills with warmth as you remember his embarrassed smile, the way he shoved his baseball cap farther down his head, chin tucked to his chest, trying to hide that face. “When he was done, I opened my mouth to say something polite but what came out was ‘You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss’.”

this is so soft i stg im crying in the club

OH SHITTTTTTTTTTT , you left it off like that!!! thats so cruel!!!! i can’t!!! how dare you!!!! :””””””((( im typing this with tears in my eyes ill have u know!!

anyway!!! very good fic!! you could honestly make that into a longfic very easily lol. i felt too many emotions :(( 

i was just about to say where is the fluff!! where is it!! when i saw the next one and yay :))) pls i cant have more angsty stuff rn

.

cookies and rings and things bucky and reader

‘how much do you love me?’ ‘count the snowflakes, multiply by a million’

did you have to start the fic off with such a SOFT line? its so soft! so TENDER 

‘He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.��  jesus, the soft moments filled with love are the greatest <3

you can write fluff so well, whyd you have to pain me with all that angst ;””””) (1/10 hurt, 9/10 comfort is the way to go lolol) (jkjk ill read the angsty ones too when i have the spoons) (gonna reread that hydra steve one and ik thatll fuck me UP)

‘ Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are. ‘

you literally brought me to tears reading this softness, you have truly found my weakness

‘ She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst ‘

he already likes her so much! i can’t believe this is affecting me so much :’)

‘Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky’

this is so soft??? sam loves reader bc reader loves bucky sm. pls my hear <3333

you do fluff SO WELL DAMN 

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission. ‘

yike bringing back that reminder oof

but thats so soft??? (i am def overusing soft but,,,,, i love it and the vibe) she sent him cookies! god i can feel the love  

‘She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.’

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 my hEART

you show how much they love each other in so many ways??? i am dying

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.//”“What?”//Oh.Shit.

oh my god! i am literally tearing up!!! AGAIN!!!!!!!!

oh shit o am literally crying

your fluff got me crying harder than your angst i hope youre happy

I really hope you enjoy reading this?? i keep forgetting to like text you but i wanted to do something for your birthday. especially in quarantine when everythings gone crazy. one year i swear ill do something REALLY good for you. not making promises bc i hate if i dont. but ill like, learn how to podfic because you D E S E R V E  I T 

ive spent like three hours doing this lolol 

thank you so much for everything hayley!

[isthisthingeven0n]

assistant : part three

this is the last part in my little series. thank you for reading it!  if there is anything you’d like me to write drop me an ask or a message - i’d love to give it a go :)

one / two 

Y/n: 

Slowly I’ve been trying to distance myself from David, but that is easier said than done when you’re running errands for him 24/7. 

I began to make up excuses, reasons I couldn’t see him in person or film. Part of me knew it would make it easier once he does fire me, that I won’t have that pang in my chest every time I see him or hand him some prop he asked me to get for a video. 

But as I sit in my empty apartment I can’t help but reminisce over the times that no one else knew about. 

Only David could message me at 3am, and I would respond in seconds. 

Within minutes of him messaging me that night  I was semi-dressed and stood outside of my apartment block as I saw his Tesla pull up in the dead of night. 

We just drove around the city, wandered to places we didn’t know well and talked about our families. I told him things I kept to myself, memories I knew he wouldn’t abuse or make fun of in his vlogs. 

And in return, he told me all about his first heartbreak. That feeling and being afraid to open up to someone again. 

It was a strange, but beautiful night. Something we didn’t really discuss as I fell asleep when he pulled over and allowed me to rest my head on his lap. 

Looking back on the one photo I took that night I bring my legs close to my chest and curl up underneath my blanket. 

Why did it have to be David? Why did my heart constantly make my life complicated? 

*

David: 

Walking through with my camera in my hand hanging down I struggle to get the motivation to film. That urge to scare someone shitless or surprise my friends with a crazy thing isn’t fulfilling this emptiness that I’m trying to cram. 

The sound of laughter fills my ears and I quickly turn into the kitchen, seeing Zane holding his phone up to his face. “Who you talking to?” I ask eagerly, hoping the laughter belongs to the one person I want to talk to. 

He turns it around, and I try to hide my disheartened expression as Carly waves. 

“Wow, you couldn’t look happier to see me, Dave.” She jokes, but I can’t knock it off. The three of us are silent and despite being through a screen, Carly can sense more than Zane. “Have you heard from Y/n much this past week? I think she’s gone to visit her parents.” 

I shake my head. “I tried contacting her a few times but she said she’s sick. When I asked if I could come over with some stuff she says she didn’t want me getting ill too.” Carly begins to style her hair, and Zane is glancing around. Both trying not to meet my empty glance. “What?” It comes across more needy than I would’ve liked, causing Zane to sigh. 

“Carly saw her yesterday and she said she heard you say something to Jason last week.” 

A shiver spirals down my spine. 

The only thing she could’ve heard was me admitting how I felt. 

That was the only time I’ve been alone with Jason where she could’ve heard. 

Fuck. 

What have I done? 

“So is she at her apartment?” I ask quickly, and Carly nods through the screen. “Okay.” Turning around I hear Carly quickly call my name. 

“David, just, just don’t hurt her. Okay?” I raise my eyebrow in response but shrug it off. 

If only they knew. The mere thought of hurting Y/n, seeing her genuinely upset would break my heart. 

**

Taking a deep breath I knock on her door. 

No response. 

I knock again and ring the bell. 

My ears twitch as I can hear movement from inside, and the door slowly opens, just a mere slither. 

She peaks through, her eyes tired. “Hi.” I quietly say, unsure what to say to convince her at this moment to hear me out, let me explain why I said what I said. The truth behind all of it and how deeply I care about her. 

“What do you want, David?” Her tone takes me back, it’s bitter, cold and unwelcoming. It’s unlike the sweetness she usually greets me with. The warmth she radiates when she walks into the room is vacant. 

I stutter, “I want to talk. You. you’ve been gone for over a week and I wanted to see you,” As I went on, I could feel the confidence rise and fall in my voice. “as I care about you, Y/n.” 

Y/n’s eyes follow me up and down, and then the door slams in my face. 

Dumbfounded I look around, wondering if there’s some camera I can’t see. That maybe this is all an elaborate prank on me for everything I’ve done. But she wouldn’t do that, not like this. 

“Fine,” I yell through the door as I turn around. “if you’re not going to talk I’ll just sit here until you’re ready to have a discussion like two adults.” Crossing my arms over my legs I sigh. What am I doing? 

Y/n: 

Glancing through my window I saw his feet twitching. “So he’s still sat there?” Scotty asked, genuine shock filling his voice. 

“Yep. I mean, doesn’t he get it? I don’t want to talk to him.” I sigh as I crash into my sofa, trying to hide out of sight from him. 

A kerfuffle sounds over the phone and suddenly I hear Scotty yelling. “Y/n, GIVE HIM A CHANCE.” Kristen motivates me down the line and potentially shattering my eardrum at the same time. “David has some explaining to do, yes. But, you need to hear it from him, not from an overheard conversation.” 

I stand up, hovering outside my front door where a few inches of shredded wood lie between us. Between me and my heart being broken. “I guess, I just don’t want to get hurt.” My eyes are tightly shut, I can’t cry. Not now. Not when he’s there. 

“Trust me, Y/n. If he has sat there for the past hour waiting for you, he will not break your heart.” 

And with that, she was gone. Leaving me with the decision of facing the reality, or ignoring the inevitable. 

David: 

Falling back unexpectedly I feel a slight ache in my head, but she is stood above me. 

She holds her arm out, helping me get on my feet and walks towards her small armchair. “So, you’re letting me talk?” I ask as she sips at her drink, but shakes her head. 

“There are a few things I want to say first.” Her voice is cracking, and I watch her avoid my gaze and focus on the flowers that are perfectly arranged on her coffee table. 

I sit down on her bigger sofa, placing my phone down on the table so it doesn’t distract me. “I just want to say thank you for the past year and a half.” She sniffs harshly and wipes her nose with a tissue she grabs from her side. “Coming here was more difficult than I anticipated, and you really made me comfortable and I will always be grateful for all of that.” 

“I couldn’t imagine not having met you, Y/n.” I state and she blows her nose, tears filling her eyes as she looks at me briefly. 

“But,” The strings holding my heart are wearing thinner, a pause, a lapse in judgement from her is the last thing I want to hear, what I want to expect. “when I heard you tell Jason you were going to fire me, I-” 

“Woah, woah woah. Hold up.” A dry laugh escapes my lips and I can see the confusion spread across her watery expression. “Did you not hear anything I said after that?” 

She shakes her head. “I didn’t need to. Why should I have stood there, hearing all the reasons why I failed as your assistant when all I do is care about you David? Fuck.” 

Her fingers are tangled in her hair as she leans back. “I wish you did. Because I told Jason how beautiful you are, how perfect of a person you can be without even realising. Fuck me Y/n there are so many moments when you smile or look my way and I just know I can’t hold back.” 

Her eyes are focusing on me, the tears still sliding down her cheeks. “I can’t have you as my assistant knowing I feel this way towards you.” I sigh, burying my face in my palm. 

“So, you want to fire me because you don’t want me to be your assistant?” I laugh lightly, she is really dragging this out of me bit by bit. 

Standing up I walk over to her, kneeling in front of the small armchair she is huddled in to. “Because I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/n. I realise this is the last thing you’re expecting, but I really care about you and I can’t deny it from you. I understand if it’s not reciprocated, but I wanted you to know.” 

I get up from my knees as she remains silent. Too silent. 

Turning around I head for the door, my heart now hanging by one lonely thread. 

“David?” She calls out softly, and as I turn a small smile is forming on her face. 

We walk towards each other, apprehension pushing us apart. 

My fingers find hers, softly intertwining them with hers. “I care about you too, Dobrik.” 

Looking up at me with her gentle eyes, the ones I saw two years ago and knew from that moment she would change everything. 

I lift my hand up, resting it against her cheek as I lean down. My lips softly kissing hers. 

Everything I’ve wanted to do since that night in the car. When she fell asleep on my lap I whispered sweet nothings to her. And now, now they’re a reality. 

I’ve got something worth waiting for. 

[stunudo]

Just Because

I wanted to make something funny and @reidbyers posted this fun Sentence Starters list. So blame Jen for this... J/K I tried to get them all. This is the most shit post ever... Now I am paranoid I have read something like this before. Oh well.

Penelope had gathered everyone together for an impromptu “Team Building Seminar” at a local bar & grille. The establishment had a western theme, so she had somehow bamboozled an assortment of child-sized cowboy and cowgirl hats for the team to wear. The BAU team: Hotch, Rossi, Reid, JJ, Prentiss and her one and only Boo-thang Derek Morgan were all there seated around a banquet sized table in a private room next to the kitchen.

“Attention. I need attention.” Garcia began, her bright pink hat, nestled at an intentional angle on her curly head. The team was not getting the point, so she held up her toy pistol and shot the cap gun off. *snap* *snap*

Six sets of eyes slowly made their way to their hostess and tech analyst.

“Baby Girl, is 'no' an emotion? Because I'm feeling it." Derek teased from his lazy perch next to Rossi. He had kindly wore his black and silver cowboy hat at an angle like hers, but what he was really excited to wear was the Bolo tie.

Garcia rolled her eyes and tried to get the group back in line. “Guys, we are starting with a round of questions. Just quick responses, don’t think too hard. Almost like word association.” She looked around the table, ensuring everyone was playing along. “ Which layer of hell do you think you're going to?”

“Seven.” Derek shouted out, rather robustly. Reid looked at him, impressed that he knew the circles and had chosen a decently appropriate one. Spencer had to readjust his purple cowboy hat again, it kept on slipping. But actually it was JJ and Emily lightly tapping it from either side of him.

“Ninth,” mumbled Prentiss.

“Definitely sixth for me, too much sway with the press,” JJ admitted, taking a long pull off her pint.

“I don’t believe in hell, but if I did I think I would be banished to the second circle.” Reid pondered.

“Reid? Isn’t that the sexy one?” Garcia’s mouth was hanging open. “Nevermind, moving on: I am going with circle 8, hacking is kind of a multifaceted dominion.”

Everyone turned to look at Rossi for his answer, but he was looking at his phone screen. Derek nudged the older man.

“Oh, sorry. If a conversation goes on too long without being about me, I'm out.” He explained. Garcia nodded, but kept the exercises coming.

“I am going to start with a question and I want you guys to build a conversation around it. Only one sentence and then it’s the next person’s turn.”

Garcia flipped through her index cards, they were electric green. She grinned when she found the question she was looking for, she turned to Hotch at the head of the table.

“Sir, you start then we will finish going clockwise.” Everyone nodded. "Are we just friends or is this flirting serious?"

Without missing a beat or loosening his gold sequenced cowboy hat, Hotch replied, “Contrary to popular belief I'm actually soft and have feelings.”

It was now JJ’s turn, “Why fall in love when you can fall on the floor and never get up?"

Reid was not quite getting the game, he looked around the room at his team mates’ faces and thought for a minute, maybe longer. "I don't wanna get involved in drama I just wanna know 103% of the information on what happened."

Emily slapped the table in a muted fit of laughter, "Fill your heart with bees. If someone breaks your heart then they have to deal with the bees."

Derek shook his head at her inappropriate outburst, “I panic a lot of other places besides the disco."

Rossi was looking at the room full of the Bureau’s finest and he couldn’t take it anymore, "All this sadness is bad for my skin."

Garcia hustled over to the senior agent and patted him on the back, the crocodile tears were shaking his frame. "Bro, you look so cute right now. Dude, you are so fucking adorable." She was so proud of the progress the question had brought about the team, she kept the game going. "I think I'm subconsciously trying to ruin my own life."

Hotch stood up and flipped his chair backwards, so he could straddle it. As he tossed his hat aside, he tossed his very short locks, "I don't want to look 'pretty', I want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening."

JJ held her heart at Hotch’s honesty, "I may act like I'm sassy but if you're mean to me there's a 900% chance I'll cry."

Reid patted JJ’s back, slyly making a knot in her hair with her cowgirl hat’s drawstring. “Drugs? No thanks, the only 'high' I need is the natural rush you get from committing a murder."

Emily slid her chair closer to Derek and looked him right in his knowing eyes, "Why can't I be mentally chill instead of mentally ill?" Derek grabbed her hands in comfort.

“I may be ugly but at least I have an ugly personality too. Consistency is key." The dark agent took a generous sip from his beer.

Rossi was now pacing the room, his hat trailing behind him like a cape. "I could win an Olympic gold medal in being ignored." Garcia had sat down in Rossi’s abandoned chair, putting her feet onto Derek’s lap. "What about netflix and kill?"

Hotch had been doing the chair routine from Flash dance as the team continued the training exercise. After he didn’t have a bucket of water to drop on himself, Reid grabbed the pitcher of beer to complete the choreography. “ Sorry for being awesome, loser." He spat at Reid, who didn’t know if he should clap or bow at their boss’s performance.

"Girls are so soft and amazing and nice and beautiful and mysterious and complex and loving and caring. I don't remember what I was going to say but I'm just gay." JJ had started talking as she kicked the chair that Reid had left towards Emily. Emily was ignoring her while she continued to comfort Morgan. Reid quickly returned with his abused chair, sitting beside Hotch, trying to mimic his stance.

“My kink is being right." He offered to his boss.

Emily barely controlled her laugh, cradling Derek’s bald head in her lap. "I am bysexual as in I'm not interested, goodbye." Derek was crying too hard to take his turn.

Rossi shouted his answer from the corner where he was now trying to get the waitress’s number. "My kink is being home alone."

Hotch had to put Reid in his place, the kid just didn’t have the skills to master the seminal 80s dance routine. "You're really sensitive for a selfish asshole." as Reid was starting to pout.

"No offense but why does everyone hate me?" Gideon said over speakerphone. JJ was angrily shredding straw wrappers and also trying to talk Reid down from actually groveling at Hotch’s wing-tips."I'm small, queer and something to fear."

Reid stormed off, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. He tapped his toe, waiting for Hotch’s apology.  "I'm a strong independent introvert who don't need no social life."

Emily looked over the puddles of spilled drinks and empty beer bottles, as if seeing JJ for the first time. "She's beauty, she's grace, she's me."

Derek sat up, realizing Emily wasn’t in the comforting kink anymore. "I'm cute and perfect but also unstable, violent and self-destructive"

Garcia decided she should begin to wrap up the activity, too many people had left the table. Besides the next booking, a Bat Mitzvah, the family had begun bringing in decorations. "I'm beautiful and underappreciated."

Rossi was kissing the neck of the waitress in the corner, slipping the young Jewish kid a twenty to take pictures.  "To be honest I just need a hug."

Hotch was refusing to apologize to Reid, but he did know what would cheer him up. "Wanna watch this murder documentary with me?" He proudly held up his phone, teasing Reid’s curiosity.

JJ was sending spit wads across the table at Morgan while Emily kept score."I may act  like I'm clueless but actually know what's going on at all times."

Reid gave in and mumbled, "I try not to sound like an asshole but it's really hard because I am an asshole," to Hotch, who let him sit on his lap to finish the You Tube video together.

Emily looked between Derek and JJ’s turf war and shrugged her shoulders. “This could be less hetero.”

Derek clapped as JJ spiked another mushy ball into his glass. "I can tell myself to be heartless but in all reality, I have a big heart and can't treat people badly, that's just not me."

Penelope was in the corner, prying hand-sy Rossi off of the help. The waitress whined at the blonde, “Please! I'm so tired of not being a multimillionaire." She held out her hands in longing as the surprising strong tech angel pushed her back into the hallway.

Garcia stomped her feet in frustration. The team was a mess, they hadn’t even kept their hats on. Well except for JJ and Reid, but she was pretty sure she would have to cut JJ’s hat out of her hair later. “Guys? I'd love to relax but that's just not realistic."

Everyone stopped where they were. Hotch and Reid were watching the gag reel at the end of the documentary. JJ had won Emily in the battle of the spitballs, so she held her over her shoulder like a caveman and a fresh meal. Derek was trying to catch Rossi’s attention, because the Jewish kid was still recording with the famous author’s phone. Rossi was preening, trying to straighten his cowboy ensemble after his make out session.

Reid trembled at being chastised, again. "I don't have a nervous system. I'm a nervous system."

Hotch patted the thin man’s back, trying to console him. "I have this problem where I isolate myself from civilization and then get upset because I'm lonely."

Derek walked over to comfort Hotch now, "I'm the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know."

Emily was really annoyed at being carried around the room by now. "Why do I get struggles instead of snuggles?"

Rossi nodded at Garcia, she was done with this HR mandated crap fest. He graciously footed the bill and left.

Garcia stormed off closely behind the BAU veteran. Calling behind her back, "This is it, this is how I die: Lack of attention."

[whittynovels]

November 9

TW: Abuse, rape

****SPOILER ALERT****

I would give this zero stars if I could. Since I was on the plane when I began reading this, I was unable to snapchat vlog how much I hated it. Therefore, here’s my list of complaints in word format:

• Fallon describes herself as being “obsessive-compulsive” about hygiene. You could just say you find hygiene important instead of belittling an actual mental illness for a hyperbole.

• Homeboy (Ben) eavesdrops on a conversation Fallon has with her father in a restaurant, then when she says she hasn’t had a boyfriend, he SLIPS INTO THE BOOTH NEXT TO HER AND PRETENDS TO BE HER BOYFRIEND? WTF THE FUCK? GO SIT BACK AT YOUR OWN TABLE. STOP TOUCHING HER AND CALLING HER LADYBUG AND BABY. 1-800-DID-NOT-ASK AND WAS NOT INVITED. HOLY SHIT I HATE THIS

• I’m tired of every colleen hoover being about a girl with self-confidence issues. Even worse, in this one, the MC has disfiguring scars, which just worsens the fact that Hoover would exploit trauma and burn victims to establish a character trait.

• LITERALLY THE ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER IN BEN’S PERSPECTIVE IS TALKING ABOUT HER BOOBS AND WHAT COLOR UNDERWEAR SHE IS WEARING. WHAT THE FUCK???? HOW IS THAT SEXY OR ROMANTIC FOR A GUY TO BE FANTASIZING ABOUT UNDRESSING A GIRL IN HIS HEAD BARELY TWO MINUTES AFTER THEY MEET????? FUCK ME UP I HATE IT

• FURTHERMORE, (I’ll stop using caps now bc I feel like I’m wearing it out but please do bear in mind that I’m furious) he literally says “if we’re just going to sit here and stare at each other, it’d be nice if she were showing a little cleavage, instead of wearing this long-sleeved shirt that leaves everything to the imagination. It’s pushing eighty degrees outside. She should be in something a lot less . . .  convent-inspired” (pg. 24). LITERALLY FUCK YOU WHAT THE FUCK IT’S CHAPTER 2 AND YOU’RE ALREADY DICTATING HOW SHE SHOULD DRESS?????? OH MY FUCKING GOD I WANT TO TEAR THIS BOOK APART

• NOT EVEN THE WORST PART!!! A few paragraphs later he starts looking at her scars and he’s like “Are [her breasts] scarred, too? How much of her body is actually affected?” And I get that it might be a genuine curiosity to see her and wonder how much of her body is affected by the burns, bUT YOU CAN’T JUST ASK SOMEONE THAT OR BLATANTLY FANTASIZE ABOUT UNDRESSING THEM JUST TO SATISFY YOUR CURIOSITY ABOUT THEIR DISEASE OR SCARS!!! I literally don’t understand this. This is absolutely disgusting. “I begin to mentally undress her, and not in a sexual way. I’m just curious. Really curious.” (pg 25). WTTTFFFFF??????!!!!!!!!!! this is so wrongly voyeuristic and completely fetishizes her scars.

• I call bullshit on this book. I know romance is unrealistic because it’s mostly just girls’ wish fulfillment, but a straight, not unattractive guy swooping in to save a girl from a verbally abusive dad, buys her dinner, is a creative writing student, etc.? It doesn’t happen. This doesn’t exist.

• I’ve always gotten subtle homophobic vibes from Hoover’s books, but on page 28 MC says “No gay man I know would have left the house looking like you do right now” and just the outright stereotyping and trying to use that to be funny is just gross. Assuming every single gay man puts fashion on an alter is so stupidly stereotypical and I’m angry about it.

• Ahhh. Page 34. He begins to get all romantic and heavy and saying “want to know what I was thinking about when I saw you for the first time?” and we thought we were going to get a touching story about looking past her scars at her beauty but nope. Full paragraphs talking about her ass and him wondering if she was going commando. The objectification of women in this one is so undeniably and painfully real.

• Ben basically navigates throughout this book doing whatever he wants without asking Fallon’s consent and then basically forcing her to do things because he thinks she’s uncomfortable for no reason. It’s just disgusting that the man’s presence in this book is written so much more naturally and commandeering in this book.

• For instance, there’s this entire scene where Ben wants her to wear this really revealing dress and she doesn’t want to but he keeps pressuring her to and finally Fallon is about to have a panic attack and cry and she’s squeezing her eyes shut because Ben is running his hands along her shirt and unbuttoning it (WHICH DEFINITELY MEANS FUCK OFF SHE DOESN’T WANT YOU TOUCHING HER FUCK YOU BEN FUCK YOU) and he finally takes off her shirt and looks her over and it’s so fucking uncomfortable and nonconsensual and totally inappropriate having only met a few hours ago then he taKES OFF HER PANTS AND DOES THE SAME THEN TELLS HER TO LIFT HER ARMS AND PHYSICALLY PUTS THE DRESS ON FOR HER and I just wanted her to literally slice him in half like I’m so done with him. He is the opposite of romantic and if I were to ever encounter him in person I would literally stomp him like a roach. Literally. Fight me colleen hoover and your shitty-ass books too.

• May I just say that when he was telling her what dress to wear, he literally said “I’m paying for dinner, so I get to choose what I stare at while we eat.” Is that not a characteristic of an abusive boyfriend to be so controlling to force her to wear what he wants her to wear? And they’ve only been “friends” for 3 hours?

• Ben literally tells her, 3 hours into their friendship, I quote, “It’s your own fault people feel uncomfortable looking at you.” I can’t even make this shit up. He tells her it’s her fault that she has burn scars, that they make her feel self-conscious, and the reaction people have to them. If I didn’t already hate this character so much I would actually tear him to shreds with my bare hands.

• You wanna know what the male gaze is? It’s a male supposed-love interest saying shit like “There’s just enough showing at her neckline to keep me good and happy.” Because women, their boobs, and their lowcut shirts exist to make men “good and happy.” Barf. Gag. Vomit.

• HE LITERALLY FUCKING SAID TO HER, “ . . . you could very well be as dumb as a rock. But at least you’re pretty” (pg. 57). LITERALLY WAY TO FUCKING OBJECTIFY A WOMAN TO REDUCE HER TO HAVING NO CAPACITY FOR INTELLIGENCE AT ALL, AS LONG AS SHE’S WEARING A LOWCUT SHIRT. FUCK YOU COLLEEN HOOVER.

• There’s this scene where he’s running his hands along her scars. He asks, “is this okay?” asking for consent. Great. Awesome. But she responds “I don’t know.” And he fuCKING KEEPS GOING. NOPE. YOU RUINED IT. GOODBYE. I’M NOT EVEN SURPRISED SHE’S DESCRIBED AS HAVING TEARS IN HER EYES THE NEXT PAGE. BECAUSE YOU FUCKING KEPT GOING WHEN SHE DIDN’T CONSENT TO BEING TOUCHED MORE.

• They start outlining rules for what to do between the time that they’ll see each other again and whereas fallon’s are things like “read these books and have fun,” ben’s is literally, “go on dates. You don’t have enough experience for girls of your age.” Like, great. That makes me feel really good about myself. Great job.

• She eventually reveals that her left breast was disfigured from the fire and literally in the next line of dialogue ben is like LET ME SEE IT I NEED TO SEE IT CONSIDER IT RESEARCH I WANT TO KNOW. Like in what the fuck world is that acceptable? It’s her number one insecurity and he’s such an entitled asshole that he’s like “uhhuh cool but let me see it. Because I’m curious.” Fuck you ben. And fuck hoover for exploiting women like that.

• Every sexual advance after that wasn’t because “you’re beautiful I love you,” it was, “let me take off your clothes so I can see the scars you keep trying to hide.” So disgusting.

• I think the saddest thing is Fallon never stops Ben from doing anything. She continually complies, even if it causes her to have tears in her eyes, shakiness, etc. She has so much internalized misogyny that she allows men to control her and tell her what to do and she contributes it to the alpha male personality in the romance books she reads. I’m so, so upset for her that she can’t stick up for herself, and Ben disguises his exploitative, disgusting, and toxic obsession with her scars and undressing her as concern and love.

• They were talking about their favorite foods. Ben said Pad Thai. Fallon said Sushi. “they’re almost the same thing . . . [because t]hey’re both Asian food” (pg 121) lmao okay…………..

• Fuck the Tate and Miles cameo. I fucking hate Miles.

• “I step forward and shut her up with my mouth” lollolololol I hate this. I fucking hate this. Let her speak. Stay in your own fucking lane. You don’t dictate when she needs to shut up, especially kissing her forcibly to make her stop talking.

• “He kisses me with entitlement” is a real fucking line in the book. It literally just proved my point. Ben thinks he’s so entitled to her body. This is actually a perfect summary of any CoHo book you’ll read. Such arrogant, ridiculous, entitled men.

• After she loses her virginity to him, she literally describes it as she “lost a part of [her]self to the person inside [her] . . . as if the second [they] joined together, a tiny piece of [their] souls got confused and a piece of his fell into [her] and a piece of [hers] fell into him.” IS THIS NOT THE EXACT WORDING OF ABSINTANCE-ONLY SEX ED??? TELLING GIRLS THAT THEY ARE POLLUTING THEMSELVES AND GIVING AWAY PARTS OF THEMSELVES TO MEN WHEN THEY  LOSE THEIR VIRGINITY????? VIRGINITY IS A CONSTRUCT. YOU AREN’T LOSING ANYTHING. YOU ARE AN INDIVIDUAL PERSON EVEN AFTER SEX. OH MY GOD THIS BOOK IS UNBEARABLE PLEASE MAKE IT END.

• fuCKING GUESS WHAT IT GOT WORSE

• the next morning she was like “I gotta go” and he literally said, I quote, “I’ve never wanted to use physical force on a girl before, but I want to push her to the ground and hold her there until the cab drives away.” He literally threatens physical violence on her. BUT SO CUTE AND RELATABLE!!!! AM I RIGHT???!!!!!

• He actually gets pissed when she refuses to let him move in with her and exchange numbers. Like cry me a river, fuckboy.

• This book is just so outright woman hating. Ben has such frail masculininty. He was like “Fallon said she hates insta-love, but apparently she hates semi-instant love and slow love and love at a snail’s pace and love in general.” Like way to villainize a woman because she wants the best for you???? Horny motherfucker, go take a nap.

• At this point I stopped taking notes because shit was happening every paragraph but here’s the rest of what I remember

• SEVERAL times in this book, Fallon tells Ben “I need to leave” and he either grabs her, stands in front of the door, or otherwise blocks her exit. That’s extremely controlling and nasty.

• At one point she tries to drive away from him but he grabs her keys out of her hand and walks to his own car, forcing her to scream after him and follow him to get them back. He walks all over her life and calls it “alpha male” romance.

• Near the end of the book Fallon’s out on a date with another guy and he shows up and is super manipulative pretending like he’s interviewing them for an article or some shit, but he’s actually just creeping on the guy she’s with because he hates how she’s moved on from him. That’s so controlling and disgusting? Literally leave her alone, she’s with another man? What the fuck? Grow up?

• During this same scene, Fallon is drunk at the bar and Ben takes her, drags her down a hallway, corners her there, demands to know who he is, and Fallon laughs. Hoover continually normalizes and REWARDS this behavior by making the main female character perceive it as humor or protectiveness.

• At one point she tells him “I need to get back to my date” and it literally says that he “lean[s] closer and sandwich[es] her against the wall,” then he says, “Don’t be like that . . . I’ve been through hell today trying to find you.” OH, OKAY, SO YOU STALKED HER, CORNERED HER, AND NOW YOU FEEL ENTITLED TO AN EXPLANATION? ENTITLED FOR HER TO LEAVE HER CURRENT DATE FOR YOU?  I hate this man. Fuck his privilege and entitlement.

• At this point I’ve yelled so much.  I’m going to try and stay calm for this one because it’s the most serious one. While they are in a bar together—Fallon drunk, Ben sober—he pulls her into a storage closet and they begin making out. Ben initiates this. Fallon is hesitant but complies. He starts touching her, and clear as day, she tells him “Stop, . . . [her] voice louder than it’s been all night.” This is an absolute, loud, clear indication that she does not want to proceed. But what does Ben do? His hands continue to “graze the edge of [her] panties” and he whispers—he fucking whispers to her face—“I’m trying. Ask me again.” He didn’t stop. He. Didn’t. Stop. THIS IS RAPE CULTURE. I TOLD MYSELF I WOULDN’T USE CAPS BUT IN A COLLEEN HOOVER BOOK THAT HAS A 4.45 RATING ON GOODREADS, THE MAIN CHARACTER TOLD THE LOVE INTEREST TO STOP DURING A HEAVY ROMANCE SCENE AND HE CONTINUED TO SHOVE HIS HAND UP HER SKIRT WHILE SAYING, “ASK AGAIN.” (UPDATE 2/18/17: Hoover is editing this out of the book. https://www.facebook.com/AuthorColleenHoover/videos/1585344338145828/)

• At this point in the book, I was done. Then the plot twist occurred.

• The plot twist just secured this book’s place in hell for me. Ben was manipulative. Ben lied. Ben was voyeuristic, trying to see her scars because HE. CAUSED. THEM. This isn’t cute. This isn’t romance. This is a drunk driver running a red light and hitting another car, nearly killing a passenger, and then stalking, abusing, and preying on the passenger who now bears scars because of his reckless behavior. Behavior that she. Forgives. Him. For. And Hoover subsequently normalizes by publishing this book. By publishing this book, Hoover has said, “it is okay to allow men to get away with this behavior if he loves you. If it was an accident. If he had good intentions. If he’s angsty. If it was meant to be.” FUCK this book honestly.

• Fallon’s father, who at the beginning of the book told her “you’re too ugly for broadway, no one will hire you, your career is over, boys don’t love you, etc.” is posed as “misunderstood” and someone who doesn’t know how to communicate. HE RECEIVES FORGIVENESS. FOR THE DESPICABLE WORDS HE SAID TO HER AT THE BEGINNING, HE RECEIVES FORGIVENESS AND AN EXCUSE.

• I have to stop this, otherwise my head is going to explode. I’m not shaming anyone who likes this book, but I can’t believe it has escaped notice of so many people. I can’t believe I’m the only person who’s livid.

This is the end of my support for Colleen Hoover. Her books aren’t going to half price books, they’re going in the trash.

[styloac]

venti pt 2 

honest to god, it kinda hurts that nobody really cares about me anymore. ive always tried to be the best person. i’ve tried to be there. i’ve tried to be good. people used to care about me. you know? when i was feeling down, when i was feeling out, when i felt like the only way out was death or worse, people used to care and try to help me. i don’t get that anymore.  im shouting into a void. i am a void. i dont matter. i just don’t. im a nuisance. my “kindness” is unwanted and only inconveniences the people around me. it’s always been that way. i’ve always been an inconvenience. i’m a fat drain on resources, on time, on money, on food, on life. ive been trying to kill myself since I was eleven or twelve, and wanted to die since i was eight. god that’s so long. that’s so young. and it hasn’t let up, only gotten worse. im waiting for the “it gets better” everyone is talking about. when does it get better? how does it get better? how do i get better? do i get better? “never gets better always gets worse” as the Giles Corey song goes. i know i matter to my girlfriend, that’s clear, i’m not fuzzy on that. i know my two best friends care about me. kinda. but those two feel all so far away. don’t feel like they’re on the same plane im on. and i just feel like i’ll drag my gf down to my level. i think my mom would be upset if i died, and my grandpa too, but i’d ultimately be improving their lives if i did. less food feasted on, more money to spend on important things like bills, less mess to clean up. and you know, im not a very violent person. i think everyone that knows me knows that much. i hate hurting people. i like to fix problems, not make them. but when i get like this, when i hurt this much, i want to tear things apart -- mainly myself. rip, tear, cut, shred, bash, smash. it’s been a long time, almost a year, since i last majorly acted out on myself and my scars are mostly faded. the only ones you can see are a few nicks in my shin from years ago, and faded stripes on my shoulder. on some days, i can see the long ones spanning my whole shin, or the stripes on my forearm, or on my thighs, but they’re so faraway it’s rare to see them. at this point, where the visible scars are and how they look, they don’t look like self-harm and can pass for an accident, like getting scratched by a cat a year ago or scraping my leg up on a rock. so you’d think “hey don’t make it worse, don’t add any more, don’t put yourself in a place where you have to hide your legs and ankle and arm again and have an anxiety attack when your mom wakes you in the morning and you aren’t covered up enough!!” but listen. i have a strong urge to. a deep urge, deep in my gut, wrapped around my brain stem, tingling and wriggling through every muscle and nerve in my body. every time my eye catches a blade, scissors, razor, knife, even when im in a good mood, it just repeats commands “cut, slash, hurt, hurt, do it, fuck you, do it” and it’s been like that for years, and it gets louder and louder the longer i go without it. and it’s extra loud when im alone. when im sad. when im dark. when im low. i listen to music to keep it down, to calm it down, to distract it. im listening to giles corey now. “empty churches” plays while i write this line and “im going to do it” will play before i’m done writing the next one. it exaggerates my feelings, put them into a near-corporeal format, sound does, but it distracts me. im too busy crying, choking, shaking, thinking, to make the action of walking to my dresser, pulling out my knife, and making work of myself. that’s too many steps. everything else is passive. so that helps. but how long will that help? a few times a week, i’m stuck in this rut of “oooooh fuck i want to fuckign kill myself!!!” and i force myself into a ball and listen to this stuff. this album the most. one day that’s not going to work. one day, my resolve will be stronger and i’ll lose to the urge. hell, maybe that’s tonight. maybe that’s tomorrow. maybe that’s months from now. i don’t know. i can keep myself from death for a while, i think. i still give myself milestones -- don’t die until after valentines day, don’t die until you finish your commission, don’t die until you finish this semester, don’t die until your old dogs do, don’t die until after you get to move in with the gf or until after the gf inevitably breaks your heart, don’t die until you see this movie you’ve looked forward to, don’t die until you get to have shake n steak one last time. milestones help, and there’s almost always more to add when one is reached. feeling like this is exhausting. its like climbing a frozen ladder to which there is no top, but letting go is certain death, so do i keep climbing needlessly or do i wrap my arms around the bars im on and accept this as my new life??? i don’t know i dont fucking know. but i do know im too tired to keep writing. im gonna bop 3 benadryl so i can sleepyboopie and feel a lot less lost and hurt and empty in the morning. maybe i can make myself a roast beef sandwich. drink a coke. hug my dog. these sound good. maybe i can play minecraft with gf, or overwatch with best freinds. maybe ill feel better.