Story cover for πŸ’‹Slipping through my fingersπŸ’— by simpongiyuu
πŸ’‹Slipping through my fingersπŸ’—
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Ongoing, First published Nov 09
1 new part
Angie is just a new 13 year old at Crimberry High ,
Well 13...,and age of discovery isn't it?
(CC) Attrib. NonCommercial
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π–π‘πšπ­ 𝐒𝐟? || A Pugsley Addams x Reader fanfic by Fictionalbois4life
54 parts Ongoing
𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 π‘·π’–π’ˆπ’”π’π’†π’š π‘¨π’…π’…π’‚π’Žπ’” π’‚π’“π’“π’Šπ’—π’†π’” 𝒂𝒕 π‘΅π’†π’—π’†π’“π’Žπ’π’“π’†, π’π’π’π’š 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 π’‰π’Šπ’” π’…π’π’“π’Ž π’Žπ’‚π’•π’† π’Šπ’”π’'𝒕 π’˜π’‰π’ 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 π’Žπ’‚π’Œπ’† 𝒂 π’…π’†π’„π’Šπ’”π’Šπ’π’. 𝑰𝒔 π’”π’•π’‚π’šπ’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’šπ’†π’‚π’“ π’˜π’Šπ’•π’‰ π’•π’‰π’†π’Ž π’˜π’π’“π’•π’‰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’…π’Šπ’”π’•π’“π’‚π’„π’•π’Šπ’π’? 𝑢𝒓 π’˜π’Šπ’π’ 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 π’Œπ’π’π’˜ π’˜π’‰π’‚π’• 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏? 𝒀/𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 π’•π’‰π’π’–π’ˆπ’‰π’• 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 π’ƒπ’π’š π’π’Šπ’Œπ’† π‘·π’–π’ˆπ’”π’π’†π’š π’”π’•π’–π’Žπ’ƒπ’π’† π’‰π’Šπ’Žπ’”π’†π’π’‡ π’Šπ’π’•π’ 𝒉𝒆𝒓 π’π’Šπ’‡π’†. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 π’Šπ’‡ π’π’π’π’š 𝒔𝒉𝒆 π’Œπ’π’†π’˜ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’Œπ’Šπ’π’… 𝒐𝒇 π’Šπ’Žπ’‘π’‚π’„π’• 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 π’˜π’π’–π’π’… 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 π’•π’Šπ’Žπ’† 𝒂𝒕 π‘΅π’†π’—π’†π’“π’Žπ’π’“π’†, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒏𝒆 π’π’Šπ’•π’•π’π’† π’Žπ’Šπ’™ 𝒖𝒑.
Broken Doll by CherylZielle
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The De Luca brothers reign supreme in the underworld, holding dominion over the ruthless realm of the Italian Mafia. They are cold, merciless, driven by madness, their loyalty solely to blood. Yet, their lives take an unexpected turn when they discovered their thirteen years old little sister. *** "When she was choking me, is that... love?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, each word trembling as if afraid to leave her lips. Her eyes, wide and glassy, searched mine desperately, seeking a truth that she couldn't grasp amidst the fog of confusion and despair that clouded her mind. My heart seethed with rage, a torrent of emotions crashing against the walls of my restraint, threatening to betray the stoic facade I had carefully constructed. I wanted to scream, to shake her out of this misguided belief. Hestia, my little sister, stared back at me. Her innocence tainted by the cruel hands of someone who had twisted the meaning of love into something unrecognizable. She couldn't differentiate the painfully obvious truth, the clear distinction between love and control, kindness and cruelty. It was as if the very essence of her spirit was being suffocated, just as her breath had been. ── ─ β”ˆβ”ˆβ”ˆβ”„β”„β•Œβ•Œ ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This story contains sensitive and potentially distressing themes, including abuse, sexual assault, rape, psychological trauma, and mature content. Cover by Canva Update: Random
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ISHARA: Abused Angel

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In a quiet, misty district of Himachal Pradesh, in a small orphanage called Sparsh Ashram, lived a fragile, gentle girl named Ishara. Her eyes held a quiet innocence, untouched by the harshness of the world, yet shadowed with a deep, unspoken sorrow. When she was only four, her stepfather-the one who had once called her his life-had left her. He discovered she was the product of her mother's betrayal, and in his heartbreak, he turned away. Since then, Ishara had grown up in the soft, lonely halls of the orphanage, her heart tender, her spirit delicate, carrying a pain that even time could not erase. At fifteen, she was still small, almost like a fragile bird in a vast, unkind sky-beautiful, innocent, and quietly brave. .................................................................................................... ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨