I had my lifetime with her but she had ten years on that

I just want to tell you a story. Will you listen?

You probably don’t know this woman: her name is Franca Viola. She was born in Alcamo, Sicily, in 1947, during a time where, see, things for women were deeply different. This is her when she was 17. 

She was 17 when, on the 26th of December, 1965, she was kidnapped by her former boyfriend, Filippo Melodia, the son of a local mobster, and a few of his friends: she had broken the engagement with him a couple of years prior, when she was 15 and he was 23, and he couldn’t accept it. He kept her segregated in a farmhouse for 8 days and raped her, before she was found and freed by the police.

At that time, the Italian law stood with her kidnapper and rapist, as it stated that if the rapist married his victim, then the crime was virtually erased, and, had the guilty part already been prosecuted and convicted, the trial and the sentence would cease. This kind of marriage was called “rehabilitating marriage,” as it was believed that the victim, and her family, had to fix the dishonour caused by the rape. 

Incredible, isn’t it? Not really. In an area where families still used to hang the sheet dirty with blood to their balcony after the first wedding night to prove the virginity of the woman to the entire town, the law and the public opinion still expected women to marry their abusers to mantain their honour. 

Franca refused to marry Melodia. Knowing that the entire town - and, later, the whole country - could turn its back at her, knowing that she was going to be mocked, frowned upon, and insulted, she denounced him. Her family, who, contrarily to many other families, stood with her and supported her choice, needed to be guarded at all times by a handful of policemen, having been threatened by Melodia and his family. Franca was assisted by a brilliant lawyer. The trial ended up being reported by Italy’s major newspapers, and Franca, the first woman - girl - to refuse rehabilitating marriage, quickly became an example of bravery for many, many other women.

In court, Melodia tried to turn the judge against her. He said she’d already hooked up with him when they were together. He tried to escape conviction.

He was convicted for kidnapping anyway, and justly. Eight years later, when he got out, he was shot dead by an unknown killer.

Despite earlier threats that she was dishonoured, and that she wasn’t going to find anyone willing to marry her, she married Giuseppe, a childhood friend, in 1968, who stated that he wasn’t afraid of any possible acts of revenge from Melodia. He allegedly said said, “I’d rather live ten years with you than a lifetime with another woman.”  About her dad, who supported her every step, Franca recently said, “My father Bernardo came [to get me] unshaven, with a week’s old beard: I could not shave if you were not there, he said. What do you want to do, Franca? I will not marry him. All right, you put your hand, I will put one hundred. This sentence, he said. I just want you to be happy, nothing else. He took me home and he did the great effort, not me. It was him who put up with those who no longer greeted him, his friends gone. The shame, the dishonour. His head up high. He wanted only what was good for me.”

When he heard about her wedding, even Pope Paul VI asked to meet her to congratulate her.

Her trial was the final push to erase the law about rehabilitating marriage and honour killings, which also allowed “mitigating circumstances” if the killer had acted upon jealousy or to restore his honour (for instance, if a husband walked in on his wife cheating on him, and killed both her and her lover). But that didn’t happen until 1981.

Rape was finally considered a “crime against the person,” instead of a crime “against the morals”, only in 1996. 

She still lives in Alcamo; she says that, sometimes, she still sees her kidnappers, and whilst she greets them, they lower her gaze in shame. Franca has never, not once, lowered her gaze, and that’s why she changed history. 

This is just a tiny post to remember how small acts of courage can change history and change the shape of a nation - and as a woman, an Italian, a Sicilian woman, I want to thank Franca for saying ‘no’ and - perhaps by chance - changing the history of Italy. 

Day One Hundred and Ten

-On my way into the store, I found a motorized cart abandoned on the curb. My throne awaited me, and I am never one to pass on a stylish entrance. Not a single person noticed me, but my mood skyrocketed in preparation for my shift.

-A man clad entirely in black, arms wrapped in smoky tattoos of the Grim Reaper and other equally sordid icons, came through my lane. In a low growl, he asked me if we sold ouija boards. I replied that I did not know. He told me that he was with the Disciples of the Ram. As I handed him his receipt and change, he hissed loudly and threw his arms up, intending to strike fear into the hearts of onlookers, not intending to launch his change across the floor.

-A woman purchased six tubs of Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter World ice cream, clearly preparing to make my life’s dream a reality.

-I found at the top of my till a five dollar bill with the name Brandon and a phone number scrawled across ol’ Babraham’s face. Unfortunately, I had not been paying enough attention to know whether Brandon himself had attempted to slide me his number, or whether an unwilling recipient was trying to rid themselves of evidence of the encounter. Nonetheless, I copied down the number for when next a nefarious mood strikes.

-A woman in her forties cackled maniacally as she purchased a book with a flatulence soundboard, proclaiming over and over the wonders of a book about farts that actually farts at you. I have finally found her. She is the target audience my lifetime of comedy has been meant for.

-A three year-old pointed at the six year-old in the cart behind them and asked, “Baby?” The mother explained to their child that, no, that was not a baby, and she was in fact older than them. While the mother remained entirely oblivious to the reality of the situation, I did not. That child was fully aware that the girl was not a baby. Their pickup game is simply well beyond their years.

-A young girl asked me for a bandaid. I had none, so I instead offered her a strip of stickers. This seemed to do the trick, as she began counting them off and giggling in joy, giving each the smallest of kisses. A young boy pulls up in a cart behind her. The girl stands up, extends the strip of stickers, announces, “I have all the stickers! Look at them! I got all of them!” and sits back down, proud of her work. After a brief look from her mother, she peeled one off and handed it to the boy. Too emotional for words, the toddler accepted the sticker, silently committing to this contract of eternal friendship.

Southern Motherf*cking Democratic Republicans (Jefferson x Madison x Burr x Reader)

Words: 1600+

Request: psst hey soulmate au with one of southern motherfucking democratic republicans? 😉

Warnings: Nope

A/N: Hope ya like it anon! (and everyone else!) I apologize for taking so long, college’s been a b*tch


The universe was unfair.

It was said that everyone would meet their soulmate at 18. And for the most part, it was true. The distinct tattoo that everyone had would glow red and hurt whenever they bumped into the love of their lives, and happily ever after. Of course, the ones that did not, their tattoos would fade. It was usually due to their soulmate dying or their soulmate giving up on love. It was not common, but it did happen. Those were all the cases that you heard, so you wondered why it was so different for you.

You were 27, and it’s been almost ten years since you were supposed to meet them. Ten years of wondering when your tattoo would fade, ten years of hoping that you would just bump into them while walking into the bathroom or buying groceries.

Ten years of anticipation.

You tried your best not to give up on the idea of love. But it was hard, it was so difficult. You stared at the snake on your arm. It started at the tip of your pointer finger and curled all the way around your arm, your shoulder, and ended at the corner of your left ear. It was beautiful.

But it did not cover the whole in your heart, the need to see whose tattoo matched yours. But you did, cover it, hid it from your coworkers and other colleagues. It was for the best. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself.

You walked into the auditorium, readying yourself for the speech that was about to take place. Your boss required you to attend, and to interview the men that spoke afterword. They called themselves “The Southern Democratic Republicans”, and you scoffed when you heard the words. Did they think they were the founding fathers or something?

It was about the research into soulmates, and how the process actually worked. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were interested in hearing their results, despite their ridiculous name.

“Y/N, did you see their pictures?” Your friend, Eliza, whispered. She already found her soulmate, Alexander Hamilton. You haven’t met him yet, but you were told that he was a loud mouth and slightly pompous. It was intriguing how a woman like Elizabeth Schulyer ended up with a man like him. But you saw the glow in her eyes when she mentioned him, and your heart ached.

“Nope, why? Do they look as strange as their name?” You joked, sitting in the first row. She sat next to you, shoving the paper in your hand.

“Hahaha,” she said sarcastically, passing you the pamphlet, “the opposite actually. They’re hot.” You raised your eyebrow at her, and she chuckled, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. “I mean, they’re handsome. But, not as handsome as my Alexander.” She added, winking at you. You rolled your eyes at her, looking down at the paper in your hand.

You looked at the man who appeared first. Thomas Jefferson. His credentials were phenomenal, having several master degrees and even achieved the title of doctor. His hair was wild, curls pointed in every direction. There was a small smirk on his face, like he knew something you didn’t. You noticed he was wearing a turtleneck in the picture, and you were curious. Was he trying to hide something?

The next man was James Madison. He had several degrees as well, but most were bachelors. He was as handsome as the man before, his expression emotionless. His hair was short, and he wore a suit, with a scarf covering his neck.

The last, but not least, was Aaron Burr. He was grinning fully in his picture, in a suit and tie. His hair was short as well, and his credentials were amazing, competing with Jefferson’s. There was a camera glare in the picture, making it seem like his head was floating over his torso.

Eliza nudged you, bringing your attention to the stage ahead of you. “Hey, I know they’re good-looking, but wouldn’t it be better to see them in real life?” She whispered, and before you could give her an answer, the lights dimmed down, and the white screen came down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we would like you to give a warm welcome to The Democratic Republicans; Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison!” The crowd clapped loudly, and you wondered if this was some sort of concert. Why is it so loud at a convention?

The men walked out one by one, Aaron Burr appearing first. He waved at the crowd, grinning happily. Next, Thomas Jefferson walked out, nodding at the crowd with a small smile. James Madison was last, holding a tissue to his mouth, waving at everyone. They approached their podium, each of them having one individually. They were all wearing suits, besides Jefferson’s byzantium colored one.

“Oh shit, I was right…” Eliza mumbled, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You giggled, turning back to the stage. You did notice that all of them wore a scarf around their necks, underneath their suits, which was strange to you. You touched the turtleneck you wore with being aware, staring at the men.

“Welcome fellow scientists, lawyers, journalists, and whatever career you may have.” Jefferson started, causing a chuckle from the audience.

“We are here to present to you the idea of soulmates and how it has changed over the course of our lifetime.” Aaron Burr added, looking at his colleague. James coughed.

“We’ve researched most of our lives how soulmates became a concept, and in a few moments, we are going to show you our final findings.” James replied, passing the clicker to Jefferson. Jefferson smiled at his friend, and began the slides.

You wrote down as much information as possible, astonished that they came up with all these new insights on humanity and the tattoos etched on the skin. They were almost complete with their presentation, when they took off the scarfs around their necks. You were too focused on your writing to notice what was actually going on. Everyone in the audience gasped, and Eliza hit you on the arm.

“Look, Y/N! Oh, my gosh…” She mumbled, her eyes staring at you. You pushed your eyebrows together, confused.

“What-“ She turned your head towards the stage, and your eyes widened.

All of the men took off the cloth around their neck, revealing what they were hiding underneath. It showed a snake tattoo on their neck. But that was not the strange part.

“As you can see, we all have the same tattoo around our neck. We were not sure why this happens, but maybe it is because we all have the same soulmate.” Jefferson said, glancing at his friends.

“We thought that we were soulmates, but the tattoo did not glow or burn.” James added.

“So, we began researching this topic, since this has never happened before in the history of mankind. That there was more than one person we were meant to be with.” Aaron added.

Their tattoos were the same as yours. You heart beat quickened, realizing what was going on. You felt the skin on the left side of your body burn, and you pulled up your sleeve violently, revealing the red glow in the dark theatre. Your arm was shaking, and you felt a giant weight on your shoulder.

“What the hell?” You heard Thomas say. There were numerous gasps in the audience.

You looked back up to the stage, and all their tattoos were as red as yours. You quickly pulled your sleeve down, not wanting them to notice.

What were you doing? Did you not want to find your soulmate? You heard your mind say, but you ignored it.

“Our soulmate, they must be here. They must be in this room!” Aaron exclaimed, looking out into the crowd.

You had to leave, and it had to be quick. Before they noticed the glow of red on your arm and the pained look on your face. Eliza looked back at you glaring your things, and shook her head.

“Don’t leave them.” She whispered. “Don’t regret their love.” Her eyes were disapproving of you, wanting you to stop your mad dash. You disregarded her discontentment, and shoved your papers in your bag.

“Does anyone have the same tattoo as us? Please, show yourself!” Jefferson yelled, scanning the audience. There were murmurs around, the people in the crowd looking back and forth for the missing soulmate. You took this time to jump out of your seat, running to the exit.

“Hey!” You heard Aaron yell, but you ignored, almost making it to the door. You glanced back, seeing the three men leaping off the stage, their eyes on you. It was hard to run when your arm was in pain, but you ignored it, pushing through the doors.

You ended up in a packed lobby, bumping into everyone that was in your way. You heard protests and insults being thrown at you, but you just need to get away from all of this.

You needed to think about what this means.

“Please, just wait!” You heard James yell, and you froze, your body unable to move. You tried to run forward, but for some reason, it wouldn’t budge.

Your body would not let you leave your soulmates behind.

You turned around, coming face to face with the three men that were just on stage. Aaron was out of breath, leaning down. James was staring at you, in awe. Thomas smiled at you, and your heart warmed.

“So, you’re our soulmate?” James said, holding out his hand. You shook it. The glow on your arm lessened, but was still as bright as the sun. Thomas held out his hand next, and you shook it as well, your fingers tingling. The pain went away from the tattoo, and you sighed in relief. It still glowed wildly. Burr was the last, holding yours a bit longer than the rest. The glow immediately dissipated after that, leaving you four to stare at each other in amazement. After a few seconds of this, you cleared your throat.

“So, um, how are we going to fix this?” You whispered. They all looked at each other, and then at you.

“I guess we’ll have to share you.” Thomas grinned wickedly. You sighed, staring at the three in front of you.

You were always told; two is better than one. Who knew that it would double?

the last five years lyrics sentence starters.

  • ❝  i’m still hurting.  ❞
  • ❝  ____ is probably feeling just fine.  ❞
  • ❝  what about lies? what about things that you swore to be true?  ❞
  • ❝  run away, like it’s simple, like it’s right.  ❞
  • ❝  maybe i’d see how you could be so certain that we had no chance at all.  ❞
  • ❝  i’m breaking my mother’s heart. the longer i stand looking at you the more i hear it splinter and crack from ninety miles away.  ❞
  • ❝  i’ve been waiting for someone like you.  ❞
  • ❝  the minute i first met you i could barely catch my breath.  ❞
  • ❝  well yeah, nobody’s perfect! it’s tragic but it’s true.  ❞
  • ❝  you are the story i should write.  ❞
  • ❝  i think that i could be in love with someone like you.  ❞
  • ❝  i guess i can’t believe you really came.  ❞
  • ❝  see, i’m smiling. that means i’m happy that you’re here.  ❞
  • ❝  i mean we’ll have to try a little harder, to make this love as special as it was five years ago.  ❞
  • ❝  and you’re mine.  ❞
  • ❝  with all we’ve had to go through we’ll end up twice as strong.  ❞
  • ❝  you know what makes me crazy? i’m sorry, can i say this? you know what makes me nuts?  ❞
  • ❝  you could be here with me or be there with them — as usual, guess which you pick!  ❞
  • ❝  and i know in your soul it must drive you crazy that you won’t get to play with your little girlfriends!  ❞
  • ❝  i swear to god i’ll never understand how you can stand there straight and tall and see i’m crying and not do anything at all.  ❞
  • ❝  i’ve got a singular impression things are moving too fast.  ❞
  • ❝  maybe i can’t follow through — but oh, what else am i supposed to do?  ❞
  • ❝  i’m a part of that.  ❞
  • ❝  and it’s true i tend to follow in his stride. instead of side by side, i take his cue.  ❞
  • ❝  i said i’d stick it out and follow through.  ❞
  • ❝  and then he smiles, and nothing else makes sense.  ❞
  • ❝  first, a story.  ❞
  • ❝  then the clock upon the wall began to glow…  ❞
  • ❝  i’ve got to make due with the time i’ve got.  ❞
  • ❝  don’t you think now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are?  ❞
  • ❝  have i mentioned today how lucky i am to be in love with you?  ❞
  • ❝  he wants me, he wants me, but he ain’t gonna get me!  ❞
  • ❝  i’ve found my guiding light, i tell the stars each night.  ❞
  • ❝  son of a bitch, i guess i’m doing something right!  ❞
  • ❝  so hurry up schmuck, get unstuck and get on the scene!  ❞
  • ❝  have you been inside the museum? we should go meet the dinosaurs.  ❞
  • ❝  will you share your life with me for the next ten minutes?  ❞
  • ❝  there are so many lives i want to share with you. i will never be complete until i do.  ❞
  • ❝  i don’t know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you.  ❞
  • ❝  i want to die knowing i had a long, full life in your arms.  ❞
  • ❝  will you share your life with me for the next ten lifetimes?  ❞
  • ❝  i do.  ❞
  • ❝  you can not touch them. in fact, you can’t even look at them!  ❞
  • ❝  but it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine — i mean, i’m happy!  ❞
  • ❝  it’s not a problem, just a challenge. it’s a challenge! to resist temptation.  ❞
  • ❝  i shouldn’t care what she thinks since i can’t fuck her anyways!  ❞
  • ❝  when you come home to me i’ll wear a sweeter smile and hope that for a while you’ll stay.  ❞
  • ❝  i am a good person. i’m an attractive person. i am a talented person.  ❞
  • ❝  jesus christ, i suck, i suck, i suck!  ❞
  • ❝  i will not be the girl who gets asked how it feels to be trotting along at the genius’ heels!  ❞
  • ❝  can we please, for a minute, stop blaming and say what you feel?  ❞
  • ❝  if i didn’t believe in you, we’d never have gotten this far.  ❞
  • ❝  if i didn’t believe in you, we wouldn’t be having this fight.  ❞
  • ❝  don’t we get to be happy?  ❞
  • ❝  no one can give you courage. no one can thicken your skin.  ❞
  • ❝  if i didn’t believe in you, i couldn’t have stood before all of our friends and said ‘this is the life i choose. this is the thing i can’t bear to lose.’  ❞
  • ❝  this is the life i choose. this is the thing i can’t bear to lose.  ❞
  • ❝  if i didn’t believe in you, i wouldn’t have loved you at all.  ❞
  • ❝  i thought, i can do better than that.  ❞
  • ❝  you don’t have to change a thing, just stay with me.  ❞
  • ❝  i want you, you, and nothing but you. miles and piles of you.  ❞
  • ❝  say you’ll move in with me.  ❞
  • ❝  nobody needs to know.  ❞
  • ❝  hold on, don’t cry yet.  ❞
  • ❝  since i need to be in love with someone, maybe i could be in love with someone like you.  ❞
  • ❝  don’t kiss me goodbye again.  ❞
  • ❝  you want the last word, you want me to laugh, but leave it for now.  ❞
  • ❝  goodbye until tomorrow. goodbye until the next time you call.  ❞
  • ❝  i have been waiting for you.  ❞
  • ❝  it’s not about another shrink. it’s not about another compromise.  ❞
  • ❝  i’m not the only one who’s hurting here.  ❞
  • ❝  i could never rescue you, no matter how i tried.  ❞
  • ❝  all i could do was love you hard and let you go.  ❞
  • ❝  god, i loved you so.  ❞
  • ❝  so we could fight, or we could wait, or i could go.  ❞

“Prompt: Maggie says no.” from the hard-hitting (and I effing love it) @foreverblueraven and @goodslothnoodle “Please fix the proposal   That one kind of sucked” and @laurarasmith “ Also sanvers rationally talking about getting married cause like ok. They can be engaged. Sure. But can we plz get the logistics conversation” and @ahhveee “I’m really conflicted about the proposal…but like post-proposal Maggie saying yes but also her getting assurance from Alex that this isn’t only a reaction to everything that happened and it’s really something Alex wants” and @sanvers-cuddles “In anyway you see it but like could there be more of a build up to the proposal”

Other proposal fic here: https://queercapwriting.tumblr.com/post/160971754574/we-need-a-continuation-of-that-proposal-more


There was a time when she would stiffen and grab her gun and body slam anyone who came up behind her and touched her like that.

But Maggie has asked – “May I?”, she’ll always say, always softly, never expectantly – so many times that Alex has just told her, please, please, please, I love when you hold me like this, you don’t have to ask.

So there was a time when she could have literally killed someone for doing just what Maggie does.

But now? Now, Alex sinks back into her touch, her warmth, her comfort, her love, her support, immediately. She revels in the feeling of Maggie’s chin on her shoulder, Maggie’s body solid and strong behind hers.

“She’ll be okay,” Maggie tells her, and Alex tries to believe her.

“I hope so,” her voice trembles slightly, because a week ago, Kara almost lost her.

Yesterday, Kara almost lost Lena. Today, Kara lost a piece of her past. Today, Kara watched her city exploding around her, and Alex knows – because Alex feels it too – that Kara is blaming herself.

She feels Maggie staring at her, and she thinks about her promise to Kara.

To never let Maggie go.

The tears in Kara’s eyes, the lilt in her voice.

How far she’d come with Maggie, how much she tried.

How much Alex’s almost dying – almost, almost, almost, she reminds herself – had brought her sister and her girlfriend together.

But she doesn’t want Maggie to just be her girlfriend.

Not anymore.

“Hey,” Maggie is saying, pulling back slightly and taking Alex’s hands into hers. “I know the Danvers girls, you don’t break easy – “

Her voice is soft and it’s smooth and it’s the most soothing thing Alex has ever heard, and Alex has always been impulsive, but Kara had basically given her blessing, and she needs her, god, she needs her, because what if she lands in the hospital during the next war – and there will always be a next war – and Alex can’t get to her without being her wife, her wife, god, Maggie Sawyer’s wife.

It’s never appealed to her before. She’s never understood it.

But this woman, this woman with the calloused heart and soft hands, with the tender soul and sharp wit? This woman, comforting Alex about the Danvers girls, her Danvers girls –

“Marry me.”

Her eyes search Maggie’s face and she watches as the slight smile, the affirmation, on Maggie’s face melts into terror. Melts into incomprehension. Melts into disbelief.

Because she’s always been worthless, and she’s always been disposable.

And when she hasn’t been, she hasn’t trusted it. She’s blown it up in her own face. Like she deserves.

But Alex Danvers? Alex Danvers, with the wide eyes and the desperate voice?

Alex Danvers who has almost died more times than Maggie can count in the last few weeks alone, Alex Danvers who has held on for her and is holding on to her hands and is saying… What the hell is she saying?

“Excuse me?”

And Alex nods before she speaks, like she understands Maggie’s disbelief, like she understands Maggie’s shock. Like she’s feeling it too, but god, god, god, Alex took her by the forearm and pulled her into their first kiss in the bar, and she’s doing it again, now, because we should marry the girls we want to marry, and she wants to…

“Seriously? Marry me. Please?”

She breathes the last word and Maggie doesn’t know when Alex’s hands went to her shoulders, and she doesn’t know when her heart started flying out of her chest and her ears started buzzing, but she knows her mouth is smiling, her eyes are smiling, because god, god, god, she loves this woman.

She loves this woman, loves her like she’s never loved anything, and she’s never been wanted like this, wanted like…

Wanted like Alex nearly died, and Alex nearly blew up her own sister, and Alex nearly cost planet Earth its existence, and Alex nearly lost everything.

“Yes,” Maggie whispers in tandem with her eyes. 

“Yeah?” Alex breathes, and Maggie nods, but then she shakes her head, because yes, yes, yes, but also no, no, no.

“Yes, one day, Alex. One day, I want to marry you.” She stops smiling and she steps back, and she hates herself – hates herself like she hated herself the night Alex first kissed her – and she shifts Alex’s hands from her shoulders to her own hands.

“One day,” Alex repeats like she was just punched in the gut, and Maggie brings Alex’s limp knuckles to her lips.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yes. But Alex, I don’t… I don’t even know what marriage means to you. What it would change for you. For us. We don’t live together yet, not really, and finances, and our dog – when do you want to get a dog? – I just… I want a lifetime of firsts with you, Alex, and I want marriage to be in there. Once, to be clear. Just once. To you. But not… Alex, you almost died, and then the Daxamites, and then – “

“What, you think I haven’t thought this through?” Her eyes are wide and her eyes are pain, and Maggie steps back closer to her and thanks the goddesses when Alex doesn’t shrink away from her touch.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about it, Alex. With all that’s been happening… hell, even before that. But we haven’t figured out… what does it mean to you? To get married?”

“Till death do us part and all that. Seems pretty relevant nowadays, huh?” Her eyes are wet and so is her voice, and Maggie gives a dry chuckle.

“But that’s exactly my point, Alex. I don’t want you to… I’m ride or die for you, Danvers, you know I am, but we don’t have to rush, we don’t have to – “

“But what’s the difference? Between you saying you want a lifetime of firsts with me and me saying I want to marry you?”

“Babe, getting married… that lifetime of firsts suddenly includes a lot of joint housing and financial decisions, and a lot of… it’s forever, Alex. And I want forever with you. But it’s miles from where we are: we just started this thing, you and me. And I want to treasure every bit of it. I want to treasure the conversations we have to have about dogs, and kids, or no kids, and careers and apartments and bank accounts and life goals and compatibilities and where we want to be in five years, ten, forty. I want to treasure the conversations we have to have about my parents and your extended family and planning mutual proposals with Adrian. I want to treasure talking about what kind of rings we want and designing wedding dresses or suits with Winn – do you want to get married in a dress? – and I want to treasure figuring out retirement funds and taxes and last name changes and illness and health care and all of it. I want to treasure all of it, Alex. I don’t want to do it while we’re mourning and grieving and recovering.”

“But we’ll always be mourning and grieving and recovering.” Alex’s voice is small, and it breaks Maggie’s heart in as many ways as a heart can possibly be broken. And more.

She pulls her down for a soft kiss, and Alex parts her lips, kissing her back eagerly.

“Yeah. But not like we are today, babe,” Maggie tells her when they press their foreheads together, and Alex nods.

Nods because the taste of water still burns in her lungs and the taste of Daxamite ash still chars her nose.

“So you’re not saying yes, but you’re not saying no.”

“I’m saying, not right now. But ask me again sometime,” Maggie smiles, and lets Alex draw her close into her body somewhat warmly, somewhat possessively.

“You love me?” Alex asks, because the logical part of her brain hears Maggie, understands her. Agrees with her, even. But every single other part of her is trembling with fear.

That she’s said too much, that she’s offered too much, that she’s demanded too much. 

That Maggie will leave because she’s failed. Again.

“I love you through and beyond, Alex Danvers,” Maggie whispers against her lips, and that?

That is good enough for Alex.

Mother Knows Best, LMM/Reader

Prompt: The Oscars’ luncheon breeds a new relationship for Lin.

Words: 2,450 (Good LORD)

Author’s Note: I’ve been looking for some smaller things to write as I gear up for the write-a-thon, and Lin was tweeting about the Oscars’ Luncheon. Got a bit of an inspiration. (Y/M/N) = Your Mother’s Name. I know that some people don’t have mothers but this prompt required a parental figure. Feel free to change it to anyone you want!

Warnings: General lack of knowledge as to what happens at an Oscar Luncheon.

Askbox | Masterlist


“I’ve never even heard of this.” You sigh into your phone, your publicist trying to maintain an even and calm tone with you. “I mean, yeah, any day I get to stand in the same room as Meryl Streep you can count me in.”

“Amazing! I’ll get in touch with your stylist-” You allowed the eccentric woman to go off about a list of her duties as you boarded your subway, weaving through bodies to find an empty spot next to the handrail.

“Nothing too insane. This is a luncheon, I’m not meeting the queen.”

“This is the Oscars, Y/N! No one will be in a sweatshirt and Levis!”

You certainly wish you could be.

The past year has been a bit of a whirlwind for you - interviews and movie offers and an Oscar nomination. Everything was still very new to you - you had never even gone on a talk show until just a few months ago. A year ago you were struggling to pay rent and scraping together money to be able to feed both you and your dog.

Then a once in a lifetime chance came your way and you jumped on it before you could blink.

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Essays in Existentialism: Royalty

Two princesses who can’t be together but secretly love each other.

Inside the palace, the evening roared. The ballroom filled and ebbed as the doors were thrust open and the inhabitants flowed out into the garden. Like a chamber of the heart, it pulsated, keeping beat with the band that played while the platelet-like people in gowns and tuxedos all swirled about, dizzy on wine and champagne and the evening. 

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Escape:  the Bree years

“It hurts,” she whimpered through her breaths. 

“I know, mo graidh.”  

The wind was howling outside, and the rain was pelting at the window. 

It was time for her to sit up, but she couldn’t manage because she was too tired. The bed only went up so far, so she had asked Jamie to sit behind her, and prop her up when it was time to push.  It was her twelfth hour of labour, and she was exhausted.  The contractions started at 7:00 in the evening, and it was 7:00 in the morning now.  

“You don’t know!  You don’t have any idea,” she scoffed.

“I do not.  Sorry.”  Just keep her happy.

“I should have had the drugs,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Ye said ye didna want them.  Ye said ye wanted a natural birth.”  She’d made him promise not to let her give in.  

“Well, I was wrong!”  She tried to breathe through the contraction that threatened to rip her in half.  “Oh, God, I need to push.” 

“The doctor is just putting his gloves on.”  He tried to keep his voice calm.

“Tell the doctor to fucking hurry up, it hurts.”  She couldn’t believe she was waiting for a man right now.

“He’s almost ready.  Breathe, Sassenach.” Jamie spoke low into her ear.  

“Tell him!” Claire snarled.

“Oi!  Put the fuckin’ gloves on a bit faster, aye?”  

“Thank you, Jamie.”  She sounded like herself again.

“Whatever ye need, Claire.”  He’d move Heaven and Earth, if necessary.

The doctor settled himself on the small stool between her legs.  “Ok, Dr. Fraser. Ye can push with the next contraction.  Let’s meet yer wee one, aye?”

Claire didn’t dare open her eyes for fear of losing her concentration.  The bustle of the delivery room was lost to her.  But one thing penetrated her brain, and lodged itself there.

Jamie’s voice. 

His voice in the moment the baby crowned would stay with her.  

“Oh…my…God.”  

Each word said softly, and reverently.  A true prayer.  It was the voice of a man who was witnessing a miracle.  

Claire kept her eyes closed until she heard the cry.  A very healthy, lusty cry. Relief flooded through her.  Finally, she could look.  She saw the shock of red hair, and heard the doctor ask Jamie if he’d like to cut the cord.  Jamie’s big body moved from behind hers, so anxious was he to participate.

“Is it a boy?”  Claire asked, unable to see. 

She watched Jamie cut the cord grinning from ear to ear.  

“Is it a boy?” she asked again, louder.  

The doctor held up their child.  “Ye have a beautiful baby girl!”

The nurse took the baby then, to clean her up, and test her Apgar scores. Jamie followed as if entranced.  It was as if in cutting the cord from Clair, the child had created some invisible tether to him.  

Claire laid her head back against the bed as the doctor went about helping her deliver the afterbirth.  

A girl.  

Another girl.

She was so sure it was going to be a boy.  A boy to name Brian, after Jamie’s father.  She was so certain it was a boy she didn’t even bother settling on a girl’s name.  

She felt a twinge of guilt because in truth, she was kind of disappointed. She didn’t want a girl.  She didn’t want a replacement for Faith.  Faith was her daughter.  She was supposed to have a son so she wouldn’t miss Faith all over again.  She was supposed to have a son so she wouldn’t constantly be thinking about all that Faith had missed.  All that she and Jamie had missed.  Now, she would be thinking about how two little girls should have grown up together.  

We lost a lifetime with someone we’d never even met.

She turned her head, and felt the tears slide into her ear.  

“Are ye ready to hold yer wee lass?” the nurse asked. 

Claire nodded, and held out her arms.  

The nurse handed her the squirming bundle.  Claire received her daughter, and immediately counted her fingers, and toes while Jamie chuckled deeply.  Ten. Ten of each.  

Jamie placed his big hands on either side of her on the bed, and kissed her gently on the lips.  

“Thank ye, Sassenach.  Thank ye for our child.  Our daughter.”

She smiled then, at his joy.  Her tears welled up anew.  She found her joy in his. She looked down at the pink, warm body resting against her skin.  Little fingers splayed over her chest, with the same crooked right pinky, just like Claire’s.  The tiny knees were drawn up, and the cheeks were impossibly chubby.    

“What should we name her?”  Claire couldn’t tear her eyes away.  She was big! And that hair!  So much like her dad.  So much like Faith.  

She was Faith, but more.  She was her sister.

“Christ!  We didna decide, did we?”  Jamie’s eyes widened.

“Honestly, Jamie. I was convinced it was a boy.”

“Canna very well name her Brian, now, can we?”

“No,” Claire paused, and thought.  “But we can name her Brianna.” 

Jamie tried to say the name, stuttered, tried again.  Claire corrected him and he tried again, his tongue getting in the way of the shift in syllable.  Claire laughed out loud.

“How do ye spell it, then?” Jamie’s brow was furrowed.

“B-R-I-A-N-N-A.”

“Brrrr-eye-ah-na.”  Jamie spoke slowly.  “That’s a horrible name for a lass.”

“Can you say Mary?”  She spoke as if talking to a toddler.

“Oh, ha ha, Claire.”  Jamie raised an eyebrow.  “It’s that damn English spelling.  In Gaelic we would say it ‘Bree-ahnna.’”  He looked down at his newborn, hands still braced on either side of Claire. “’Tis different, right enough.”

Claire lifted a hand, and placed it against Jamie’s cheek.  His attention broken, he looked at his wife.  His tired, pale, physically, emotionally exhausted wife.  

“We can call her Bree, for short.” Claire smiled like the Madonna.  “I think it’s beautiful.”

“I think yer beautiful,” Jamie whispered.  “God, Claire.  A daughter.”  His breath hitched, a catch in his voice.   “A second chance.”

“No,” she said, a little more forcefully than she meant.  Jamie narrowed his eyes.  

“No,” she said in a gentler tone.  “She’s our first chance.”  She cupped Brianna’s small head.  “Our second daughter, but our first chance.”  

Jamie nodded.  “Aye.  I get yer meanin’ mo graidh.”  He kissed the top of the baby’s head, lingeringly.  Then, kissed his wife in the same way.  

“Weel, ladies,”  Jamie heaved himself up, proud as a stallion.  “I’m going to call Auntie Jenny.  A Dhia, Sassenach, she’ll be beside herself wi’ excitement!”  

He strode through the door, then grabbed the frame at the last moment, and spun around. “Tha gaol agam ort.”  

“I love you, too, Jamie.”  His grin was blinding.  She could hear him whistle tunelessly as he walked away to the lobby for better cell reception.

Alone, Claire looked down at Brianna.  She shifted the baby to cradle her in her arms, and swaddled her more snuggly in the pink blanket.  Bree opened her eyes for a moment.  

“That, my darling, was your father, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”  Bree blinked sleepily.  “A long time ago I crawled through his window, and fixed his shoulder.  And then, not long after that, he took care of me when I was sick.  He said to me once that ‘I had his name, his clan, his family, and if necessary, the protection of his body’.  It’s a promise he’s always kept.  It will be the same for you, little one.”  Claire smiled at the memory. 

“Your father will love you more than you ever thought possible.  He will encourage you to be anything you want to be,” Claire promised fiercely.  

Bree’s little mouth stretched into a yawn.  “I wonder if you’ll prefer art to science?  Although I secretly hope you’ll grow up to be an archaeologist like your Great-Uncle Lamb.” 

Bree’s eyes drifted shut, her little hands curled under her chin.  

Claire shifted the baby up onto her shoulder, and settled back, holding her close.  

Closing her eyes, she yawned just as her daughter had done a moment before, and drifted off to sleep.

When Jamie stepped into the room ten minutes later, his two best girls were fast asleep.  He pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture of the moment.  

A moment he never wanted to forget. 

Because in that exact moment, he felt as if his heart was going to burst. 

anonymous asked:

31 with taehyung please ^-^

thank you for requesting! i hope you like it! 

31. “I’m trying to flirt with you.” 

WORD COUNT: 1,776

Originally posted by ladynwh

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Deepest Darkest Secret

HELLO FRIENDS GET PUMPED I’VE BEEN WORKING ON SOMETHING

This is an eighth year AU, and it’s going to have around 20 chapters. It’s based on this little thing I wrote for FEDA and promised to continue. Also posted on AO3 here

Soulmate AU where you’re born knowing your soulmate’s biggest secret.


Chapter 1. Baz.

My soulmate is the Insidious Humdrum.

I’ve known this since before I was old enough to know what the Insidious Humdrum was. At first I thought I was actually going to fall in love with the Insidious Humdrum, which confused the hell out of me. Is it even human? (Then again, I’m not human, either.) How could I fall in love with a supervillain?

I don’t think anyone in the World of Mages actually understands what the Humdrum is. In the break before eighth year, I sat in on a series of Old Family meetings, each more useless than the last. Some of them are about strategy and the Mage. Fiona keeps insisting that I have to know things about Snow that we can use to our advantage.

‘We avoid each other as much as we can,’ I keep telling her. ‘He fell asleep on his Latin homework at least six times last year. That’s all I’ve got.’

It’s a lie. Fiona’s right; I do know things about Snow. Everyone knows their soulmate’s deepest secret, even if their soulmate doesn’t know it themselves. His future biggest secret is the darkest, most important one, and the one that the least number of people will ever know.

It makes sense that it’s him. I’ve been hopelessly in love with him since fifth year and it already feels like a lifetime. He’s got his fingerprints all over my soul. It has to be him.

Not that I’ll ever admit it to my family. My love, my downfall, my biggest secret. (Bigger than the fact that I’m a vampire, because there are at least three adults who know about that, and I’m never telling anyone about Simon.)

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“I hate you.” (Joji)

Anon Request: an imagine where you and joji absolutely hate each other but because you’re both friends with the other boys you’re forced to hang out together but one night, somehow, things get really heated and smutty? xx


Y/N’s POV

I groaned dramatically, trying to catch the attention of at least Max, or Ian…mostly Ian. I wanted to desperately leave this dreaded apartment and one of those two idiots was my ticket out of here considering that I didn’t have a ride. Well, Ian was my ride, but he was too busy up George’s ass to even notice me. I hated coming over here to this apartment, I hated this atmosphere, and most of all: I hated George. Yeah, ‘hate’ is a strong word and all, but that’s just how I felt. It was with such animosity that I could barely look at him without having the urge to deck him right in the face. He was sat on the couch across from me, scrolling through his phone as he smiled and spoke to Max and Ian about something stupid. The three of them laughed, and I felt like they were mocking me…I was the only one sitting there and pouting as if I was a five year old that had their favorite toy taken away from them.

“Y/N, you need to see this.” Ian laughed as he patted the empty space next to him.

I glared at him and then Max, both of them on either sides of George. I rolled my eyes and scoffed. My bitterness towards George stemmed from a deeper issue. It wasn’t just me being hostile for no reason.

“I’d rather choke then go over there.” I muttered.

We had been out the whole attending to every need George had, doing everything George waned to do. I was excluded from everything purposely. They shot a few things for videos on all of their channels, and when Max or Ian called me over, George would instead take my place and fill in. It was always some kind of competition when it came to Ian and Max, as if he didn’t spend enough time with them already. For some reason, it always had to revolve around George. Ever since the first day I met him, it was as though the attention was always on him, and he distracted them from me.

“Have it your way.” George mumbled as he continued laughing with the guys.

That night, we had stayed over at George’s apartment being that we had nowhere else to stay because Ian didn’t want to drive downtown and get a hotel. Luckily for me, Ian was with me in the guest room where he and Max were going to be rooming.

“I have to step out real quick with Max to go pick up a few things that we ordered from that camera company I was telling you about. Remember that lens I ordered? Well, I have to go to the company and get it myself with Max since he had ordered some sort of case from the same place. Its an hour and a half drive.” Ian told me as he folded some of his clothes as he sat on the bed.

“You’re going to leave me here with him.” I gasped, “Take me with you, please. Come on, I promise I won’t say a single word the whole ride there and the ride back.”

“Y/N, just stay here. Plus, look. Joji needs some help cleaning up a little…just be civil until we get back.” he told me.

I didn’t want those two cunts leaving me with George. Max talked me into staying behind unfortunately, saying that I’d get bored with the trip. Ian even suggested talking to him and maybe squashing the beef between the both of us.which I doubt would ever occur in this lifetime… I walked into the hallway, leaving the guest room, and I came to a stop when I heard George speaking.

“Guys, you’re seriously not leaving me with Y/N, right? What the hell?! You guys know I can’t stand her…let me go with you, she won’t mind being alone. She’s always alone anyways, being that she hasn’t been in a relationship for a long ass time.” he belittled, “She’s so fucking annoying…dude, all she does is take up space…”

I knew I abhorred him completely before with every poison filled bone in my body, wanting nothing to do with him…but now I felt it with such distaste. George was repulsive to me.

“Look, she doesn’t like it either, but we’ll be back quick.” Ian explained, “You won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They said their goodbyes and after hearing the front door shut, I abandoned the hallway, retreating back into the guest room. I was occupying the bed for about ten minutes, lying there and taking up space, like how George said I did. I couldn’t deny that what he said didn’t at least hurt me in some sense. Like, I guess it did but I was so used to ignoring his existence it really didn’t have an affect on me. I heard a soft knock on the door followed by the twist of the doorknob. I found it rude how he just let himself in that way, but at the same time, it his apartment. I continued staring at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him.

“Do you want popcorn or something?” he asked bluntly.

“No.” I spat.

“Starve and die then.” he muttered.

“Gladly.” I told him.

All I felt was the room become empty and I heard the door slam shut. It startled me a little, making me jump as I remained on my back, staring at the blank ceiling. Someone’s grumpy, I thought to myself. Like, alright yeah, I get it. I suck, I’m annoying, and he probably rather die than be stuck in the same vicinity as me because that’s exactly how I feel about being here with him, but are you really going to slam doors in your apartment to emphasize how much I get under your skin? I sat up feeling thirsty. Five minutes into a battle with myself about getting up or not, I decided to get up and be a big girl and go get myself a glass of water. I was hesitant, not wanting George to say anything to me. He sat on the couch with an unopened beer in his hand as I lightly creeped past him and went not the kitchen. I poured myself some water and as I gulped it down, I thought about leaving tomorrow since Ian had said we’d leave first thing in the morning. I wanted to be far away from George, I never liked coming to New York because we only came here to see him.

“You could’ve asked me for a glass instead of snooping around my kitchen.” his voice startled me, making the cup slip out of my hand and crash onto the floor into pieces.

I gasped, scared that he’d start his bitching.

“See what you do?!” he shouted at me, stretching out his arms.

“Me?! You’re the one that came up behind me like some kind of spy. Wear a damn bell next time, maybe that way we’d all be able to hear you.” I shouted back.

“Oh, shut up! You’re the reason why I have to sneak around, so you’re annoying ass doesn’t see me and automatically say something about you wanting to leave and doing something better or coming at me with your bullshit.” he seethed.

“This is exactly why-“ I started.

“You what?” he tested me.

“I hate you.” I disputed.

I wasn’t going to just let him walk all over me the way he normally did. Like, it’s pretty evident you dislike me, no need to make it more known by being mean and rude. He crouched on the floor and began to pick up the jagged pieces of the broken glass. I began to help him as well and he grabbed my wrist unexpectedly in a rough manner, “Stop. What? Are you trying to have a shard slice your hand open?!” he scolded.

“Oh, look at that. You do have a heart.” I rolled my eyes, “I’m a big girl, George. I can clean up my own mess by myself. I don’t need you being a big ass baby and telling Ian or Max I smashed one of your stupid fucking cups.”

“Why don’t you ever call me Joji? And you’re fighting with me over picking up shards of fucking glass. Just get out of the damn way, Y/N.” he argued.

I ignored him and continued picking up the shards. I didn’t want to call him ‘Joji’ because that’s what his close friends called him and I am no friend of his. If I was anything to him, I was probably an enemy.

“Your friends call you ‘Joji’…I’m not your friend.” I said as I held a few pieces of glass in my hands and dumped them in the trash can.

“You’re right. We’re not friends.” he muttered as he pushed past me to go into the kitchen. I followed him, wanting to know what the hell his problem with me was. I stood in the center of the room and he glared at me bitterly, clenching his jaw and sitting down on the couch.

“What is your issue with me? You already know what mine is with you, but for some reason you’re always such a dick towards me…” I announced.

He stood up and sighed, rolling his eyes, “You’re kidding, right? I never have time with my friends because of you. You stick to them like some sort of leech, sucking the fun out of everything we do. You walk around like you’re some sort of goddess, as if you control shit and run shit…” he inched closer to me, becoming more sour with every word that left his mouth, “And you don’t run anything…you-you waltz around in the shortest dresses and the tightest tights catching attention from pervs and distracting my other friends. I know you hate me…”

George backed me up into the chilled wall, goosebumps took over my body as I watched his lips attentively.

“So?” I asked with a slight attitude as I crossed my arms over my chest.

He let out a laugh, his eyes went from the floor to my face as he closed the space in between us. George stared at my lips and said, “You think I hate you, huh?”

I nodded slowly, not having any words for what was happening. I didn’t want it to stop…even if I claimed I hated him. He was rude, repulsive, alluring, and a dick… but that didn’t mean I didn’t want his…

“I’m gonna show you just how much I hate you.” he whispered as he leaned in.

George’s lips met mine aggressively as his hands intertwined in my hair. I didn’t protest nor did I reject him. I wanted him. Not knowing how much time we had left alone made us become very hasty. He led me straight to his room, where he shut the door and quickly attended to me while I plopped down onto his bed. My eyes scrutinized his room, I’ve never even taken a glimpse of it. George was surprisingly neat and organized, I’d imagined he was a slob but he proved me wrong. I was startled when I felt his cold fingers trace the bare skin on my stomach as he hooked my pants with his fingers. He made his way in between my clothed legs and unbuttoned my pants. While he was lowering my zipper, I jerked my pants off and began to work on his button and zipper. I was impatient and anxious. My issue with George was pushed in the back of my brain. I did not want to think about it anymore, I just wanted to think about how good he would make me feel and make it up to me. Removing his pants, he sucked on my neck, nibbling a little bit. His hand made his way into my underwear making me sharply draw in a breath.

“You wanna know something?” he whispered in a low voice as he entered a finger in me.

I moaned in response.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you.” he lightly chuckled, placing another finger inside of me and working his fingers faster, “The first time I met you and opened that pretty little mouth of yours I knew you were someone I wanted. You hate me? Let me fuck that hate out of you, baby.”

My hand clasped his wrist as his actions sped up, not knowing what to grab and where to my hands. I was a mess under him, moaning and whimpering as he continued leaving marks on my neck and collarbones. He stopped before I was able to cum, my head hit his pillow as I laid there gasping, trying to catch my breath.

“I’m not done with you yet.” he snickered taking off my underwear and then instantaneously got rid of his.

We made out as he teased my opening with his hard erection, without a warning, he surprisingly thrusted into me. He was slow at first, but none the lead, it made all the difference in length. I gripped the blankets in my palms, biting my bottom lip as I shut my eyes. His thumb rubbed circles on my clit. After some time passed, he flipped me over so that I was on my knees. He gripped my hair in his hands and got close to my ear, “Let me show you how much  I hate you.”

He grabbed my hip with his left hand as his right continued holding my hair tenderly while he pulled out and teased me awfully slowly. I et out a small whimper, earning a light chuckle from him.

“Stop with the teasing, Joji.” I whispered.

Joji gave in and his actions became rugged with each slow stroke. I lowered the upper half of my body into the mattress, muffling my moans as he got faster and his motions rougher. I slid my arm below me and let my fingers rub my clit, I was close to my high and Joji’s motions made me near my climax faster than I had expected. My thighs burned as my legs shook, cumming onto his cock as he continued with his pace, pounding me as rough as he could. Moaning into the sheets to keep from making noise was no help, I was loud regardless. Joji’s moans were low growls, they became intense as his thrusts got clumsier. Joji pulled out, immediately spurting onto my ass, his grunts declined and instead turned into sighs of pleasure. Helping me clean up, Joji also aided me in getting dressed. He stared at me as we stood by his room’s door, “What?” I asked, confused.

“Wanna hate each other more often?” he smirked.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I smiled.

Just as we exited the room and walked into the living room, the front door swung open. Ian smiled at us and said, “Hey! Did you guys work things out?”

Joji looked at me, giving me a wink, I couldn’t help but smile discreetly as I turned to Ian and Max. My smile disappeared and I cleared my throat, attempting to act cool, “Something like that.”

I sat on the couch, crossing my arms over my chest, continuing the act as Joji sat on the the other couch, eyeing me with a grin. All I could hope for was the next time Joji and I were left alone…maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Shower- Sirius Black

Originally posted by marauderseraimagines

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Characters: Sirius Black, James Potter

Warnings: Swearing

Request: Anon-  Could you do a Imagine that Reader and Sirius like each other, and he is always teasing her and once she says that she is going take a shower and he asks if she needs help (😂)??? You can choose the end. Thank you!!!

Word Count: 529

Author: Charlotte

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2

Childhood Friends / 5839 words

March 2017

Part One

I sat staring at my phone, fingers twitching nervously as I glared down to the item with scorn.
Maybe it was naive of me, to think that he’d get in touch, given the way things had ended just under a month before, but I still thought he might.
He had five minutes until it hit midnight, five minutes until we officially entered March, and my birthday ended.
He had five minutes to send me one message. Just one.

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Little Bird // Sirius Black

A/N: so, this got longer than I wanted it to but also short as well ? i started this with completely different intentions of where it actually went and don’t know if i really like it? but again, oh well. i wrote regulus as exactly as i imagined him to be - a mysterious, quiet, attractive young boy who’s kind of a rich spoiled brat who’s always doing what mummy says, but also has a rebellious, sly, flirty side to him as well and is just really good, ya know? so, i might write some regulus stuff soon? like a dating regulus would include or something ? but, anyways. i don’t speak french and only know basic words that you should know from every language really - like hello and thank you and i love you and colors and stuff. so, i was relying on google translate and hope its not wrong :) hope you guys enjoy this possible trash. 

Originally posted by nellaey


“Oh, darling,” your mother wailed. “Oh, don’t you look lovely?” 

You painted on a fake lopsided grin and ran your fingers over fields of beads yet again. A silky soft, beaded dress in the creamy beige color that reminded you of antique pictures and coffee with far too much sugar hung from your shoulders. Exquisite dress robes fell to your beige Louboutin heels. Your hair was curled into a halo-like updo and your face was weighed down with makeup. You looked just like every other pureblood girl your age did - elegant, intelligent, and wealthy. Except unlike those other girls, you had a Black family heirloom sparkling on your ring finger. 

Unlike those other girls, you were engaged to the future your mother had built for you - Regulus Black, a mansion on a hilltop, and a life devoted to filthy prejudice. Today, you’d catch a three hour long glimpse of the life you were destined to live at your engagement party. You’d be surrounded by people that were better than everyone else, on Regulus’ arm smiling at his witch of a mother, and flashing everything you had in everyone else’s faces. All of which sounded tolerable a year ago. 

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untitled //13RW//

Originally posted by stillthesamesarah

untitled

Pairing(s): Jeff Atkins x Reader (mentioned), Zach Dempsey x Cousin!Reader, O/M/C x Twin!Sister!Reader, Hannah Baker x Best Friend!Reader.
Requested?: N/A
Request: N/A
Warnings:  Attempted Suicide, angst, cursing
Word Count: 3378
A/N: Flashbacks are in italics. Reader has two siblings, a younger sister around 10-11-ish named Kaylee and a twin brother without a name. Also, this took me like over a month and I’m so sorry about that, writer’s block problems.
[MASTERLIST] [SEND FEEDBACK]

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Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part II)

Part II – “In slow motion the blast is beautiful”

Twenty

I watched as people walked in the gardens outside the hospital, struggling to distance myself from the acute sound that seemed to be permanently whistling inside my ears. It was the sound of immediately before – the universe’s cry of warning that catastrophe was imminent. I found myself trapped in that moment, long after the physical pain was gone – after weeks in the intensive care unit, I was finally starting the skin grafts on my back –, paralyzed in a life-changing moment. Doomed to stand in the frontier of what I had been and what the blast had made me become.

A couple was strolling nearby, the woman holding the bundle of their newborn baby, the man enraptured, dutifully keeping watch over a couple of celebratory balloons, announcing a perfect boy in impeccable blue.

I had seen myself in that life, before. My hand entwined with a faceless woman – her eyes mysteriously the colour of strong whiskey, enough to inebriate me with its fumes -, mindlessly walking towards a shared house, a shared life. I couldn’t fathom such a thing now – the explosion, caused by a gas leak at my apartment building at the university, had tarnish skin and dreams alike.

The breeze kept everyone outside mercifully comfortable, under an otherwise hot sun. It was only the second time I had ventured to go outside, wearing the notorious grey pajamas from the hospital, which marked me as belonging somewhere else other than sitting on a bench under the leafy tree.

The sense of disconnection from everything around me was crushing – I felt like I was standing inside a glassed cage, looking at people with normal lives, unable to find an escape to join them. Jenny and Ian visited me daily, trying their best to cheer me up and to bring me back to myself – I had no heart to tell them that only dust and fragments had remained from that man. I was alive, thankfully – but had no notion of what to do with that surprising gift.

“May I sit down?” A woman asked me. I nodded, not bothering to look at her – instead I curled more into my robe, making myself invisible, biting my bottom lip to avoid moaning with pain from the stretching skin. Breathing, moving, walking – everything came with a renewed cost, as if to remind me that my survival still demanded sacrifice.

She sat on the other end of the bench. I saw her blue sneaker dangling spiritedly on the periphery of my vision, as my nostrils were filled with the smell of rosemary and lemon.

“Excuse me.” The voice next to me said, somewhat timidly. “I could swear I know you, but can’t really figure out from where…”

I tilted my head and looked straight into the sun.

Her eyes were the exact same shade as ten years before – I would recognize them anywhere, even if I couldn’t recognize her brown curls or her tentative smile. My jaw dropped an inch, as I stared flabbergasted at the girl from the graveyard.

“You!” I babbled, nervously fumbling with the catheter, skilfully taped to my forearm by a kind nurse. “Ah – yes!” I tried to recover seeing her confused look, silently kicking myself for blurting. “We have met once – many years ago.”

“You’re the boy from the cemetery.” She said slowly, her hawk eyes studying my face. She had an adorable wrinkle of concentration between her brows. “Ellen’s son!”

“Aye.” I smiled, shyly. “I dinna think ye’d remember that.”

“Of course I do.” She nodded, offering me a kind smile. “I always pay my respects to Ellen, whenever I visit my parents.”

I couldn’t answer – my throat suddenly thick with emotion, as words and feelings nestled like a snake around my vocal chords. That she remembered her act of kindness as vividly as I did – and that she had kept watch over my mother – deeply moved me. I gave her a – I hope – grateful nod and looked away, composing the emotions that ran wild, raw and untamed, after the accident.

“Are you a patient here?” She asked. I raised my eyes to look at her again and noticed she was wearing a white uniform, akin to the nurses I was used to see, with an identification card that read “C. Beauchamp. Trainee.

“Aye.” I swallowed hard, attempting at nonchalance. “I have the pleasure of being a guest of the Burn Unit.”

“Ah.” Her eyes softened – it marvelled me how they changed so significantly, reflecting her states of mind. I was prepared to see the pity that always followed such a statement – but it never came. Her face was a mirror of sympathy and concern – but she wasn’t about to treat me as an invalid. “Good thing you’re able to come outside, then. Such a splendid day, today! I had been dreaming all morning of eating my sandwich outside.”

“Do ye work here?” I questioned, watching as she unwrapped and bit her sandwich – egg and tomato on rye bread – with a satisfaction that made my own mouth water.

“Nurse in training.” She explained, closing her eyes in delight for the utter brilliance of her simple pan. “Actually it’s my last day here.”

“I wish I could say the same.” I gave her a lopsided smile and she laughed – a bit too loud and carefree, like a delighted child. For a moment I forgot where I was and why I sat so uptight – she made me forget things. She made me remember others too – transparent things, important things, that could carve the exit from my self-imposed prison.

“The food isn’t that bad.” She joked, offering me some salt and vinegar chips that she had started to munch. Her eyes searched the plastic bracelet on my arm, easily reading my name there. “Jamie.”

“Hmmm.” I smiled, conceding at the personal treatment. “I’m afraid I miss my morning parritch…” I looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal her identity in return.

Claire.” She laughed, playfully saluting me with her joined fingers like a soldier. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

We stayed in amiable silence, as she completed her picnic-style lunch and I continued to study the world around me, through the eyes of a dead-man walking. But the trees where suddenly greener again and the distant voices seemed to speak to me, teasing me but finally within my reach.

“Thank ye,” I said slowly, tapping my fingers on my leg – much thinner than usual, muscles having been consumed in the furnace of my recovery. “For not asking - about what happened.”

Claire glanced at me – I saw again the same wise-beyond-her-years look, the soul that knew pain and how to heal it, which had held me together ten years before. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

I raised my brows, surprised. “It’s all everyone wants to talk about.”

“You can tell me, if you want to.” She licked her lips for crumbs and smiled, tilting her chin to expose her face to the sun. She resembled a lazy cat, stretching under the warmth, gathering enough energy to wreak havoc afterwards. “But I know you’re here and whole and that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?” I whispered, smiling beyond myself.

“Yes.” Claire threw me an evaluating glare, like she could read into my soul and was ready to challenge the defeatist thoughts that resided there. “Is it enough for you?”

“It hasn’t been…” I admitted, brushing my unusually short hair – another thing lost during the first days in hospital care. “But perhaps I’m beginning to see things differently.”

“I’m glad.” She smiled tenderly – and she seemed truly content. For the first time in weeks I noticed my heart galloping inside my chest, strong and lively, as able to be moved and broken as ever before.

“Jamie!” Jenny waved at me from the door, calling me to get back to my room – it was time for another dose of intravenous antibiotics and physical therapy. I raised my hand in response and slowly got up – whimpering and trembling a little, to my mortification. Claire’s hand quickly came to help stabilize me, holding my chest, as if she had guessed that my back was the source of all pain.

“Ye should be a doctor.” The words burst from my mouth, sounding strangely calm and confident. “Ye’ll be a wonderful nurse – but ye could be a brilliant doctor.”

She looked surprised – an image that suited her, for it was screamed from every trembling muscle, flutter of lashes and promise of smile in the corners of her mouth. Claire’s face spoke of truth as mine spoke of loss and of gratitude to her.

I waved in short goodbye and walked away slowly, holding my crutch for support.

When the physical therapist pressed me to give more, I gritted my teeth and did it, even if cursing every generation before him inside my head. When the nurses applauded the results of the healing grafts, I allowed myself to share the happiness, instead of focusing on everything still left to be done. When the quiet night came, I closed my eyes and dared to plan a life to come.

Claire Beauchamp. The woman who seemed to appear when my need was greatest. I wished I could talk to her and tell her that I had been scared – of living and failing to be enough – but she had healed me, like new and joyous blood cast into my veins. Unfortunately, I had only her name – no phone or address I could use to contact her.

The next time I saw her, she was wearing a black dress, in the middle of a night with no stars.

Ten Minutes omegaverse

OMG I’ve finally made it! It was never ending…please note that this is the first time that I’ve translated one of my fiction soooo…..please don’t kill me. I know it will be full of mistakes but I did my best. Let me know your thoughts

19 Days,Omegaverse AU

Chapter 1

He Tian x Mo GuanShan

NSFW

Summary: “He stripped off as quickly as possible and threw himself under the hot water of the shower. The awareness of using He Tian’s shower caused him an annoying feeling at his stomach, as if he was sharing something intimate and private. He tried to move as little as possible, avoiding to move his feet so he wouldn’t touch too many tiles. He didn’t want to leave too many traces”


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#casneedsavacation

by: @rosie-berber and @herpinkminkness

rating: explicit (for sexy times). also, be warned, lots of fluff.

read the whole darn thing on ao3

“Hola!” the friendly voice called from an adjoining room, hidden from view. “I’ll be right with you!”

“Thank you,” Castiel answered, walking up to the simple wooden counter, centerstage in the otherwise barren room. The hotel lobby lacks extravagance, sure, but the walls were painted a cheerful yellow, the color of the little faces in texts he sometimes received from Sam. A few pamphlets in Spanish sat in cubbies along on the wall, each promising a unique and beautiful experience of Costa Rica. But there was no pamphlet for the experience he’d planned.

“Thank you for waiting.” The voice belonged to a woman of effortless beauty, who had come sweeping out of the side room. She was dressed simply, her brown fuzzy hair pulled neatly into a poof of a braid, her dark eyes highlighted only by her long lashes. She let out a long breath as she flashed him a kind grin, before continuing. “How can I help you?”

“We need a room. Errr, a cabin.” Castiel struggled with remembering the right term - his Spanish was rusty. “For three nights. Do you have anything?”

“We?” The prod was good-natured, accompanied by a quirked eyebrow at his lack of company as she retrieved a dusty log book from under the counter. Yes, it seems they were quite off the beaten path. Perfect. Just what Dean needs.

“My, uh, companion is outside,” Castiel clarified and she nodded, taking a few minutes to detail the cabins she had available. He selected the furthermost one, lining the outside of the small area that comprised all the cabins, and facing the active volcano. It had been nearly dusk as they’d arrived at the offbeat site, and they could see trace amounts of smoke from it pressed against the orange sky. He’d left Dean outside to watch it. Just before passing the threshold to the lobby, Castiel turned to observe him, silently standing and watching it plume. Such a rare gift, to watch Dean taking a moment to just … be.

He found Dean in the same position in the barren area designated as a parking lot, eyes fixed towards the sky. Cas quietly moved towards him, juggling keys and a handful of pamphlets. The kind woman had insisted he take some, explaining that zip-lining and the sky bridges were some of the most beautiful in the world. They’d get to it - they had time. Now it was much more critical that they practice the near-unheard-of art of doing nothing.

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What Goes Around, Comes Around

Summary: Adult Henry and Regina have a talk the first time his adoptive daughter tells him that he’s not her father.

——————-

At thirty four years old Henry Mills knew that he’d never fallen in love with anything quicker and harder than he had for his daughter.

He’d never planned to adopt. It hadn’t been a goal or even a thought in his head at the time but the minute he’d laid eyes on her he knew. She would be his and he would be hers forever.

He’d only been twenty-three when he first met her mother. Barely out of college when they’d ran into each other but he easily became enraptured with her warm, honey-colored eyes and melodious laughter. Luisa had been her name and it was only on their third date that she’d first told him about her daughter. Naturally he’d been shocked and a little apprehensive but still undeterred. A few months later she’d finally let him meet her, her little Olivia. Dark chocolate eyes and chubby red cheeks, she’d wrapped her tiny finger around his and he knew there was no going back.

A week being a part of their lives taught him more about love than an entire lifetime of reading and writing about fairy tales.

Twelve years and a wedding later they’d still been blissful. He truly thought that he’d found his happily ever after. But of course he’d forgotten the most cardinal rule of life.

It’s often more tragic than you expect.

A car crash stole Luisa away from them. One irreversible moment and suddenly he found himself standing over her casket, surrounded by family, his hand holding onto his daughter’s.

It would only be the two of them from now on.

A fact that Olivia appeared to struggle with.

She missed her mother, that much was clear. And Henry tried as hard as he could to give her a safe place to grieve, a place with him but she’d pushed him away. They used to be so close but she wasn’t talking to him anymore, she wasn’t talking to anyone. Isolating herself from her friends and family. He made excuses for her and tried to give her space, but things came to a head one afternoon when he’d gotten a call from the school saying she’d never shown up. After hours of searching for her only for her to come home and walk past him as if nothing had ever happened he couldn’t help it. He lost it.

Within seconds they’d enter a screaming match and before he’d even seen it coming she’d yelled the words he knew he’d never forget.

“WHAT DO YOU CARE?! YOU’RE NOT EVEN MY FATHER!!”

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anonymous asked:

Sanvers prompt: Maggie proposes, but Alex is unable to accept and can't tell her why. Later Alex realizes that she doesn't want to get married without her dad.

Maggie had been so sure. So sure that Alex would say yes, that she would accept her abuela’s ring without a second thought, crying ‘yes, yes, of course I will’ the moment the question left Maggie’s lips.

She had been so sure.

But now she sits at the bar nursing a drink, hoping to find comfort at the bottom of the glass. She feels the sting of the liquor as it hits the back of the throat, a pain more welcome than the suffocating numbness she feels when she remembers Alex’s answer.

“I can’t marry you, Maggie.”

Maggie’s been a cop for a long damn time. She’s been shot, attacked, thrown around by criminals a lot bigger than she is, and yet she’d rather face that a thousand times over than have Alex reject her.

And worse than her refusal was her inability to explain why she’d said no, why she was refusing a life by Maggie’s side.

“I don’t know, Maggie. I just… I’m sorry.”

They’d spoken about having a life together constantly. Small quips of ‘when we get a new apartment we need one with a balcony so Kara has easy access’ and ‘this won’t stand when we’re married, Maggie. You can’t just hide ice-cream from me’. When Maggie thought about her future, she imagined a small house with Alex just outside the city, with plenty of space for a lot of dogs and a stocked fridge to keep her sister-in-law happy. She imagined commuting to work together and date nights and passion and love and old-fashioned happiness, her and Alex, just plain and simply meant to be.

But now, she doesn’t know what to think.

She barely looks up from her glass when she senses somebody sit next to her. She refuses to acknowledge the small ‘hello’, refuses to nod or smile or pretend she exists. 

“Please, Maggie. Please look at me.” Maggie hears her voice break and she knows Alex is crying, and as much as she hurts, as much as Alex hurt her, Maggie turns on the barstool and looks at Alex.

“Why, Alex?” Maggie asks quietly. “I thought… I thought you wanted this. I thought you wanted me.” She takes a breath to steady herself, rubbing her eyes, refusing to let any tears fall.

“I do want you, Maggie. God, I feel like you’re the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted, needed.” Maggie downs the rest of her drink, before standing and pulling on her jacket.

“Well then why the fuck can’t you marry me?” she spits, leaving a crumpled ten on the table and storming out. 

She ignores the footsteps that follow her, her name called out over and over. She only stops when Alex pulls on her arm.

“Let me go, Alex”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“Why aren’t I good enough for you, Alex?” Maggie asks, every ounce of pain she feels in her body seeping into her words. 

“Maggie.”

“Just let me go. Please.”

She’s so sure Alex would refuse to let go, that she’d pull her in close and hug her and run a hand through her hair.

It turns out Maggie doesn’t know Alex at all.

//

“I know why.”

Maggie sighs as she sees Alex on her doorstep, not ready to talk just yet.

“Why what?”

“Why I couldn’t say yes.”

They enter the apartment, and Maggie makes a beeline for the fridge. She gets a beer out for herself, not offering one to Alex. Alex doesn’t deserve her beer. Maggie watches as Alex fiddles with her sweater, as she paces nervously. She takes a sip of her beer, waiting for an explanation, for anything to come out of Alex’s mouth.

“Do you remember when we went to Vasquez’s wedding? And you asked if I cried at weddings and I said no, and then I bawled like a baby anyway?” Maggie smiles involuntarily at the memory, quickly schooling her features when she realises she’s still supposed to be mad.

“Yeah, you cried as soon as Susan appeared at the top of the aisle.”

“I also lied to you. I’ve cried at every single wedding I’ve been to since I was fifteen years old.” Maggie frowns, waiting for it to click into place, waiting to understand. Alex smiles softly, sadly.

“I cry,” she continues, “when I watch a father give away his daughter, when I see a lifetime’s worth of love on his face and a lifetime of gratitude on hers.”

Oh.

Well now Maggie feels like a dick.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Maggie. I wanna wake up with you and go to sleep with you and do everything in between with you. But the thought of marrying you without my dad there? It just… it hurts too much.”

In an instant, Maggie crosses the room to Alex, holding her close and letting her cry onto her shoulder. They collapse onto the couch together, a mess of tears and limbs. Maggie holds Alex until long after she’s done crying and her breaths even out, feeling their hearts beat in time with one another. Finally, Alex lifts her head.

“I’m sorry, Maggie.”

“Alex.” Maggie takes Alex’s face in her hands, making sure her girlfriend looks her in the eye.

“Yeah?”

“You are my forever, with or without a ring.”