and thank you for all the joy and happiness you have given me

Day One Hundred and Fourteen

-For reasons unknown, a woman decided to hurl an insult at her daughter. The daughter crumbled before me, completely shattered by the words her mother chose. I never knew how powerful the phrase “nasty grape” could be until this moment.

-I have found that we are stocking prom-style dresses for young girls, so that when big sister is getting fancied up, they can join in the fun. Few concepts this pure have ever existed.

-I followed a trail of CDs through the store, ranging from G-Eazy in the boys section to Queen and Prince in girls. After this, the trail went cold. This being said, I will pursue this case until my dying day. I will not rest until I have my answers.

-I would like to personally and sincerely thank the parent who left a half-empty juice pouch strewn across a shelf of clothing. Were it not for you, mysterious caretaker, I would never have such a solid grasp on the extent of the evils of man. 

-As tends to happen, another shift in softlines has exposed me to the greatest clothing line ever composed: Dr. Seuss for toddlers. If anyone with the proper capabilities is reading this, I am fully prepared to give four feet of my height to make this my wardrobe.

-What I heard: stampeding zebras coming my way. What I saw: a mother-daughter pair in ill-fitting flip-flops. What I felt: disappointed.

-I found a shirt in the infants department sporting a solar system centered around a pup in a spaceship. To top it all off and cement it as a tangible vision of my soul, the entire thing was glow-in-the-dark. I am once again wishing to lose three-quarters of my height.

-A child discovered the magnificent wonders of paying with cash. Upon realizing that if you hand a cashier money, you will be given back your purchase AND more money, this youngster’s life has been irrevocably changed for the better.

-A man came through my lane, his arms full of joy and happiness. In one, a sweet newborn rested; upon the other, a tattoo reading “4:20.”

I looked through our conversations when we used to be on cloud nine and in love, these were the times you told me how lucky you are to have a girl like me, how thankful you are because you never received such love I was giving to you and whatever happens, you will never let me go. The words you said mean everything to me and it stabs my heart, realizing that these words mean nothing anymore. I can’t help myself but to cry my heart out till the sun has set. The pain is too heavy to bear, the love I believed to be true and different was gone. We used to be over the moon, but the present tells the opposite. This is stupid of me to say but, I won’t deny the fact that I miss you so much. I love you, I still do. But somehow, I’ve come with the thought that I can’t do anything anymore, I need to let you go because it’s the right thing to do. I’ve decided to finally move on and this would be the last time I would cry over you because there was nothing left to hold on to and I can’t hold on to something that doesn’t want to be held.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I was the reason why you let things end. I’m sorry for the terrible mistake I made, I never blamed you for deciding to end this because you were hurt and I understand. I only have myself to blame. But, I was hoping you would’ve understood, that I did it for us. I always feared the day would come, the day you will finally won’t take back the words you’ve said. I’m sorry for the other things that have hurt you, for the things that made you cry, jealous and mad. 


Thank you. I’m thankful that I met you because you have given me a temporary bliss. I laughed and smiled because of you. Somehow, you made me feel loved and beautiful in a short period of time. Thank you for the good days: the days we felt unstoppable like we’re flying high, when holding your hand felt like home, leaning on your shoulders made me feel secure and hearing your voice sound like the angels are singing. It was worth it, being loved and loving you. Thank you for making me realize how capable I am to love someone. You proved forever within a number of days. You were the greatest and worst thing ever happen to me. 


Goodbye. This will be the last time that I will write you a message, I’ll accept the fact that some things are meant to end, even though I used to believe that you won’t let that happen. I did everything I could to make you stay, but I guess your life no longer includes me because, you’re happy now and I can see that clearly. You already found a love that’s all the things ours couldn’t be. I hope you find overwhelming joy by her side, I hope she won’t hurt you and make you cry. I hope for the best for the both of you. It hurts but I’ve accepted the painful truth that I am just a distant memory now. I don’t regret loving you, but what I regret is that I let myself believe that this would last.


I won’t forget you and the memories, I will always keep you alive in my heart. I’ll just get used to not having you in my life anymore. Deep within my heart knows getting over you won’t be simple. I need to stop loving you so I can start loving myself again. You were a painful blessing, but you were also a great lesson. I guess you’re just another chapter of my life needed to end. I still and will pray for your safety and happiness even though I’m in pain right now, I still believe you deserve the best. I hope you find everything in her that you couldn’t find in me. You will always be my greatest love.

—  S.L // unsent last message
Not A Fairytale, Just This

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky believes you deserve more, but all you need is right in front of you.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, angst, fluff, kissing, fluff, *mic drop* the end

Word Count: 2331

A/N: Kind of a song fic based on Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay. I didn’t include lyrics because I thought it flowed better without them, but this story follows the song. I would love to know what you think :)

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

He was to be living with heroes. The righteous, the worthy, the ones who had been given a second chance and redeemed themselves.

He was given a second chance and he failed. After he fell and woke up alive, Hydra broke him. He couldn’t escape. He complied. How did he deserve the third chance he was given now?

Keep reading

A scene that 2x07 didn’t give us of Jace and Alec talking about Magnus

“I need you to leave tonight.”

Jace raised his eyebrows as he looked at where Alec was standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, his expression firm and determined.

“It’s just for the night. You can come back tomorrow,” Alec continued before Jace even got a chance to say something back. “I know you can’t be at the Institute, but I heard that Luke has contacts all over the city who can help you find a place to stay. You could also stay with Luke, if you wanted to. I know that there’s a hotel by the Jade Wolf. Or maybe ask Izzy-”

“What for?” Jace tilted his head to the side, holding a copy of Pride and Prejudice that he was reading before Alec walked into his room in his hands. “Are you planning a surprise party for me?” He teased lightly. “I know you’re happy that I’ve been rescued from Valentine and all, but Alec, it’s okay, really.”

Alec rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “You are so conceited.”

“Okay, so that’s a ‘no’ on the surprise party,“ Jace pouted and threw a pillow in Alec’s direction, which meekly hit his leg. “This is why you’re the archer, you have the best aim,” He mumbled and returned to the page that he left off on. “So, what’s the reason?”

Alec hesitated, trying to frame his sentence the way he wanted. He looked up at the ceiling as if he could see the words floating above his head and he was rubbing his fingers together. “I want tonight to be special.” He decided, smiling a little, as if he was proud of his phrasing, and pursed his lips, nodding his head a little as he waited for Jace to respond

Jace clutched at his heart dramatically. “You say that tonight is going to be special, but you don’t want your wonderful parabatai to be there? Alec, I am offended.” Alec sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not for you. For me and Magnus.” He replied sincerely after a moment of silence and Jace looked up from his book with a start.

“For you and-?” Realization washed over Jace like waves crashing against rocks and his face formed into an almost insane grin. He practically threw his book down and it bounced off the bed and onto the floor with a loud and startling thump.

Keep reading

King of the Nerds


King of the Nerds


Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: fluffy, steamy, Jensen being fake moody (yea, it’s a warning), suggestive smutty stuff, language 

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: 6k Celebration and One Year Fic-i-verary Celebration Fic ELEVEN. The line requested was, “I’m just a regular boy who goofs around, pulls pranks, and makes jokes.” It was requested by @starswirlblitz  . It will be highlighted in the fic. Thank you so much for celebrating with me. I am combining it with two gifs submitted by @torn-and-frayed. Hope you like it! This one was fun to write. I don’t usually write Jensen like this, but we all know he can get a little moody sometimes. It’s hot as fuck.

Feedback Appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Keep reading

•A JOURNAL ENTRY: WHAT IS IT REALLY LIKE TO LIVE WITH DEPRESSION?•

i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from
me.

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend


it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)
The Mom Friend - Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request- “Jeff Atkins imagine where the reader is zach’s sister and they all hang out together in a big group for the first time and the reader is The Mom Friend™ and stops them all from doing crazy shit”


“Yo Justin throw me another beer?” Your brother called across the room at the already slightly wasted teen boy. He nodded and chucked the can in your direction, causing you to duck.

“Watch it, Foley.” You warned, giving him dagger eyes. He chuckled and opened what might be his seventh beer. Jess and Justin had spent the majority of the evening so far partaking in intense PDA, they were as drunk as each other and clearly thirsty.

Deciding it might be best to move, you went to sit next to Jeff, your boyfriend. He smiled as he saw you approach and squeezed your thigh as you sat next to him.

Jeff and you had only been dating for around two months, and this evening was the first you’d spend together with your brother and his friends in one place. You were at Bryce’s. He had the nicest place and had decided to invite the few of you round to chill and have a few drinks. Most everyone was drunk, including Jeff, leaving you to Mother everyone and make sure they did nothing too stupid.

“You look really fucking good.” Slurred Jeff, making you giggle.

“You look really fucking drunk.” You retorted. You placed your hand over his and ruffled his hair with the other.

“Will you come in the pool with me?” He asked, his face that as if he’d had a brilliant idea.

“Bad idea, Jeffy boo.” You mocked.

“Why?” He sounded like a defiant kid.

“You’re drunk and I can’t be doing with you drowning.” You rolled your eyes, and placed your head on his shoulder. He sighed but clumsily dragged his fingers through your hair.

“I’ll get you some bread and water.” You decided, jumping up off the sofa to fetch the supplies.

—-

You met up with Zach out by the pool, offering him some bread and water.

“No thanks, Y/N. Gross.” Your drunk brother made vomiting motions and shook his head violently.

“Please just one sip.” You begged, giving him the puppy dog eyes that always worked so well on him. He rolled his eyes, taking the water from you reluctantly and gulping before handing it back to you.

“Now, im going swimming.” He pointed his finger up sternly.

“No, Zach, you’re not.” You told him.

“Yes!” Countered Zach, before deciding to pull his t shirt over his head.

“You going swimming Zach!?” Monty came out of nowhere, ran towards you, pulling his shirt off as well.

“No he isn’t.” You said sternly.

“Yes he is.” Sulked Zach.

You placed the water and bread on the floor by you.

You grabbed each boys wrist, turning them to face you.

“You’re not stepping foot in that water boys, you hear me?”

Monty and Zach nodded fearfully. Your stern mothering attitude always worked a treat on them, especially when they were drunk.

“Good. Now let’s get you inside and clothed. And then you can have some of this.” You took charge, motioning towards the bread and water on the floor beside you.

Both boys looked disgusted, but abided anyway.

—-

About an hour later, after making it round all the boys with bread and water, and then dancing with Jess for what felt like hours, you sat with Monty playing video games.

“I’m going to get myself a drink, do you want anything?” You turned to him.

“No thanks, Y/N.” Monty’s eyes were focused on the screen.

You wandered toward the kitchen, but stopped in your tracks when you heard voices. There was nothing like a bit of eavesdropping.

“Nah man, I gotta tell you something.” Your brother Zach’s voice drifted out of the room.

“Yeah, go ahead.” The respondent was Jeff.

“Y/N, my sister, you two, I’m so happy.” Zach fumbled.

“You are?” Jeff was trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, man. Y/N has been hurt really fucking bad before, but you’re different- I can tell.” He breathed, you could tell he was nervous. “You make her so happy, and seeing her happy, makes me happy, I’m so thankful you’re in her life.”

“Trust me, man, I’d never hurt Y/N. she doesn’t really like to go into detail but I know previous guys have caused her shit, and I couldn’t ever do that to her.” Jeff admitted. Your heart fluttered at the conversation between your two favourite boys.

“I know, that’s why I’m so glad it’s you. She means so much to me and I know you’ll treat her right.” Zach continued.

“I haven’t told her yet because I still feel like it’s early days, and I’m afraid she won’t feel the same, but I’m so fucking in love with her, Zach. Y/N is the best thing that’s happened to me in such a long time.” Jeff’s words melted your heart. You had to let him know you felt the same way soon. Damn that boy had you good.

You could almost see Zach grinning at Jeff.
“I’m so glad you’re happy too, dude. You mean a lot to me as well.”

“Thank you, man. Back at you. I thought to begin with dating your sister might be a bit weird.”

“Yeah, right-”

But you couldn’t stand there any longer, so you made a loud entrance into the room.

“Hey guys, just getting a drink.” You explained, pretending you hadn’t just heard their entire conversation.

“You want the rest of this, Y/N?” Jeff asked, holding out his beer.

You smiled warmly. “Sure.” As you took the can from his hand, you placed your other hand on his waist and leaned in to peck a kiss on his lips.

“Oooooh Kay,” Zach coughed. “I’m going to remove myself from this PDA.” He said, moving backwards out of the room, and you could’ve sworn as you turned, you saw him wink at Jeff out of the corner of his eye.

Jeff chuckled.
“Poor Zach. Must be weird.”

You laughed internally at the irony, given you’d just heard the whole thing, but brushed it off. Jeff had sobered considerably since earlier, and you were glad, since it gave you an excuse to make out with him profusely.

You leaned in for another peck, and decided to place the beer on the counter behind Jeff, so you could use both hands to cup his face.

“Jeff Atkins.” You smiled up at him.

“Y/N L/N.” he smiled back.

“I love you.” This was the first time either of you had really said it, but after hearing Jeff’s confession, you weren’t afraid anymore. Jeff was taken aback, but then, you thought maybe his face would crack from the beaming grin that lit up his beautiful features.

“I love you too!” He nearly shouted, drawing circles with his hands on your waist.
You giggled at the idiot in front of you, and went in for a full kiss.

His lips enveloped yours hungrily, both very slightly buzzed from alcohol. You caressed his neck with your hands and he squeezed your waist tightly, making your entire body tingle and causing a gasp to come from your mouth. Jeff chuckled against you, realising he was doing to you exactly what you were doing to him, and finding joy that you had that effect over each other.

Jeff moved his hands lower, cupping your ass before lifting you so that you were straddling his waist. He swung round quickly so that he could almost throw you onto the counter behind, you gasped again, neither of you caring that you’d knocked over the beer can. He roughly put his hands behind your knees to pull you closer to him and devour you even more. Your legs either side of him, he stood right up against the counter as close to you as humanly possible and tasted every inch of your mouth. This was something you could never get tired of.

“Jeff,” you pushed his mouth off you. “I think we’re going to have to move this elsewhere.” You panted.

His chuckles lit up your heart like fairy lights, and the love in his eyes wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

“That’s probably a good idea, I can’t take much longer.”

He lifted you down off the counter, and you took his hand and led him out into the summerhouse, hoping for some privacy.

Your brothers blessing had really made your day, and you could tell it had made Jeff’s too.

Clueless.

Request from @deanwinnchesterisbae​: Bucky X Reader, reader’s on her period and Bucky has no idea what to do, hilarity ensues and Nat has to help him out. Fluff, cuteness, all of the snuggly Bucky (because who wouldn’t wanna cuddle the shit out of that man while in pain?)

Note: I was definitely giggling to myself as I wrote this lol!

Bucky x Period!Reader

Words: 1,364

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3

“Agent Barnes I am sorry to disturb you but I noticed that your alarm did not sound out so I thought it would be best that I wake you myself.”

Oh the joys of having a computer system that could patch into your room without so much as a word of consent from yourself.

“There was a reason for that F.R.I.D.A.Y.” A tired groan left Bucky’s lips as he moved his metal arm to wrap around what should have been your torso….only to be met with nothing but an empty space where you had once been. His brows furrowed. “Are you able to locate [y/n]?”

It only took the system a few seconds to respond back to him with your whereabouts.

“Agent [l/n] is currently in the bathroom although upon further scanning I can see that her stress levels are higher than normal.”

You were stressed? This came as quite the surprise to the super soldier given the night you had just spent together, as far as he was concerned you had been happy – more than happy from the sounds he had remembered hearing from you. A rather smug little smirk began to tug onto his lips as he could hear said noises replaying in his mind but he was soon snapped out of his thoughts when you heard your voice coming from the bathroom.

Keep reading

Days in the Sun. (Prince Adam Oneshot.)

to contradict the super smutty asks I’ve been getting and answering, it is I here to remind you that I am truly a romantic binch.

Originally posted by until-the-last-petal-falls

Title: Days In The Sun.
Pairing: Prince Adam x Female!Reader.
Words: 1,273.
Rating: K.
Summary: i just wanted to write a reprise to ‘Days in the Sun’. (I’ll probably post the lyrics themselves on another post!)


Do you ever feel like you’re living in a dream? That sort of euphoric sensation that wraps itself around you, trying to trick you into a reality that was too good to be true? That’s how Prince Adam felt as he stood out on the balcony, holding his first born child in his arms. They were snug in a blanket made by Mrs. Potts, one of their first gifts actually, to keep them warm. Adam himself was wearing nothing other than a pair of soft blue pants and a silk, handmade robe that covered his torso. His hair was tugged into a rather loose hair tie, some of his light hair spilling and framing his face. From the rolling colors in the sky, Adam figured it was nearly dawn. The purples were turning into pinks, and the pinks into light oranges. He couldn’t tell how long he had been awake, but he did wake up first when the moon and stars were the only light you were able to maneuver around in.

Adam looked down at the baby in his arms. Only three months old, amazingly, and he’s gotten quite used to hold them and has even learned the proper way as well. He hadn’t been around a baby in years, let alone hold one on his own. He thought for a moment. No, he’d never actually held one before. Fortunately, he had you to show him because admittedly he was completely clueless. They looked a lot like him, having a swirl of strawberry blond hair. A few shades darker than his actually, but he figured it may lighten up as they grew up. Their eyes were still a gray color and hadn’t decided what color they were going to be. While you hoped that it’s a beautiful mix between his and yours, he’d argue certainly, saying that they need to be your eyes because they held so much love and adoration.

Keep reading

Ashes [M] Final

Pairing: reader x Hoseok

Genre: angst, vampire!au

Word Count: 8,109

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, depictions of violence and gore

A/N: I cannot believe I am finally writing this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for embracing this story. Thank you for giving me the confidence for stepping outside of my comfort zone as a writer. I was extremely nervous to write a vamp au but you all welcomed this story with open arms. Thank you for loving vamp Hoseok and the OC as much as I have

Originally posted by jengkook

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Final

The pain raging through your body was nothing like you ever felt. The feeling of your teeth coming in that very first time was child’s play compared to this. You tried to stand on your feet, but the searing pain of Hoseok’s torture made you crumple back down to the ground. A pair of hands pulled you up from the grass, and brought you back inside the cabin. This was the worst nightmare you had ever experienced, except you would never wake up from this one.

Someone held a pint of blood to you lips, forcing you to drink until the plastic bag was empty. He sank down onto his knees, but through your blurred vision it was impossible to see his face. But he smelled familiar. “Y/N?” he asked cautiously, and you blinked several times until the red haired vampire came into focus.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed, as you came face to face with one of Kai’s right hand men. “I thought I killed you.”

Chanyeol laughed, “You tried, but Kai was able to pull me out of the boathouse.”

“Chanyeol is on our side, Y/N. You didn’t think that Jimin was the only vampire we had on the inside, did you?. You can put your claws away.” Namjoon informed you as he came trudging through the room followed by the others. All in various stages of the healing process.

“How can I trust him?” you hissed, still unable to accept the redheaded vampire’s presence in the cabin.

The tall vampire looked you straight in your dead eyes, “Because you can’t. I could really care less what happens to you, I just want that asshole dead.”

A chill spread across your spine as he repeated the words you had heard several times over. The two of you stared at each other, enemies fighting for the same cause. You pursed your lips into a thin line as you started to pace the kitchen, “Fine. Tell me what your big plans are.”

Namjoon nodded at the empty chair at the table, “I think you should sit down for this.”

Keep reading

ninadobrev: Dearest TVD family,
It feels like it was just yesterday that I was saying goodbye. And yet two years have passed and here we are again. This is my true final goodbye, as today I shot my last scene of the Vampire Diaries forever. Coming back for the series finale has been a whirlwind of emotion, nostalgia, love, tears of joy and bittersweet endings. It feels like the beautiful closure we all needed, myself included, and I couldn’t have been happier to come home to be with my TVD set family and friends. I feel the fans family will also be happy with the shows conclusion when they tune in to watch the last episode air in a few short weeks. From the bottom of my heart I send you my biggest thanks for the countless years of implicit dedication, passion, support, and undying love from all the fans that have stuck with us on this truly amazing and beautiful journey. As this last chapter ends, we welcome and look forward to going on the next adventure and hope that you continue to follow us as our new journeys begin. I grew up on this show and am eternally grateful for all the opportunities it has given me, and to each and every person who worked on The Vampire Diaries over the last 8 years. We are all pieces of a big puzzle and without every truly amazing cast and crew member, this magical puzzle would not be complete. Thank you for all your hard work, friendship and love. You have touched my heart in ways you will never know.
Sending looch smooches,
Love,
Katherine, Amara, Tatia and of course Elena Gilbert.
#TVDforever #FangsForTheMemories

i-wanna-shelter-y0u  asked:

Do you know any fics featuring a proposal? :) thanks

Oh man this has got to be the sappiest fic rec I’ve ever done. The sheer amount of cuteness and fluff you’ll see in the stories below will honestly overwhelm you. Hope you enjoy reading them :D

  • Matchmaker, Matchmaker - by  firethesound (11k)
    Sometimes, Harry can’t help but wonder why such strange shit always happens to him. 
    (Grimmauld Place plays matchmaker. Yes, I know that sounds weird but hear me out. The house is giving Harry visions of the future where he and Draco could be happy together and everything is just so sweet and romantic)

  • Best Laid Plans - by CreateImagineWrite (10k)
    He hadn’t intended to be fully clothed with Harry naked at this point, or to have just made him take an antidote to a poison or have had to Incarcerus him to the bed. But they’ve never had a very normal relationship anyways. And damn him if he’s going to let Ginevra Weasley get in the way of him marrying this man.
    (Someone has given Harry a lust potion and everything goes downhill from there. Draco and Harry are so lovely and perfect for each other in this story, their relationship is the sweetest! Warning for some Ginny bashing)

  • The Special Occasion - by Alisanne (1k)
    Harry plans a special surprise. 
    (Cute and full of fluff!)

  • (The Piece) I was Missing All Along - by lauren3210 (30k)
    Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he’s going to work to get it.
    (God I love this so much! The pining! The angst! And Jackson! Omgggg Jackson - the guy Harry gets engaged to because Draco can’t get his sh*t together and marry Harry. But don’t worry guys! The ending is the lovliest thing I’ve ever seen and will have you weeping tears of happiness and joy)

  • The Plot - by Draquete (2k)
    Harry and Draco have been in a relationship for a while now, even started living together almost a whole year back, but neither had the guts to actually propose. Their friends help them out.
    (I just loved how Harry and Draco’s friends all got along with each other in the name of getting H&D married)

  • Your Hand - by reedenryete (2k)
     He was half-asleep when Draco slipped it onto his finger.
    (Amusing and very adorable!)

  • 5 Times Harry Tried to Propose (and The Time He Gets it Right) - by carpemermaid (7k)
    5+1 marriage proposals Harry makes to Draco.
    (This was delightful and so very sweet! Harry tries (and fails) proposing to Draco numerous times, but eventually he gets it right)

  • The Proposal - by dracogotgame (4k)
    Draco’s proposal is a night to remember
    (I was in hysterics while reading this! Lucius tries (in vain) to break up Harry and Draco’s relationship, and Narcissa really needs to sort out her priorities)

  • To my Dragon, with love, your Lion. - by a_cumberbabe_inthetardis (2k)
    Harry takes Draco out on a date for Valentine’s Day, despite Draco’s protests against celebrating the muggle holiday.
    (I smiled so much while reading this story! It’s so freaking cute!)
2

The Hobbit

B-DAY

Imagine Thorin Choosing To Court You

For My Followers

Nerves are bubbling in your stomach as your mother braids daintily crafted metal flowers into your hair. She made the metal and gemstone flowers for you, for your coming of age ceremony. Your father and her are the kings best blacksmiths because they can craft in such detail.

“Are you ready for your party (Y/N)?” your mother inquires as she finishes your hair. You’re finally ready we’ll psychically.

A long red dress with a golden belt cling to your form and your hair is in piles of fanciful raids. You couldn’t be more with pretty.

“I believe,” you reply and gulp. At the coming of age part for dwarves they choose a craft to pursue, suitors come forward to request courting, and man gifts are given. You are most nervous about the courting part.

“My sweet daughter all will be well. You do not have to accept any requests of courtship if you do not desire to,” your mother assures and kisses your forehead.

You’re concerned no one will request to court you. You’re rather unattractive in dwarvish terms and you haven’t many friends. The only close friend you have is Bilbo Baggins a dear friend of the kings. The kings nephews are very kind to you and the king is also polite when he sees you.

“Thank you mother,” you murmur and stand up. “Now it is time for us to get going. I would not want to be late for my own party.”

~~~

Your celebration goes smoothly through you choosing your craft and opening your gifts.

The courting part came up too suddenly for you.

~~~

“If any suitors wish to come forward and offer their hand to this dwarrowdam you are invited to do so now,” you father declares through gritted teeth.

From your read felt seat in the center of the large party hall you see no one stir.

And just like that all your greatest fears are realized. Now one wants to court you.

Trying to hold back tears you flash a false smile to the crowd and fluff your skirts.

“As I thought, shall we presume the festivities?” you suggest only barely managing to keep the waver from your voice.

“Wait,” a deep voice rumbles and your heart skips a beat.

Looking up you watch the crowd part and King Thorin stroll through to stand before you.

Whispers pick up in the crowd and you flush bright red.

“King Thorin? You’ve come to my celebration? I’m honored,” you say and move to stand so you can curtsy.

“Stay seated (Y/N),” he guides and you go till. “I have come to ask if I may court you.” Thorin kneels down and presents a bejeweled jewelry box to you. With shaky hands and a horde of butterflies in your stomach you reach out to it. Opening it up you find a golden tiara with shimmering gemstones encrusted in it.

“Is that?”

“I shattered the Arkenstone to forge a crown for when you become queen of you accept my request,” he explains and the crowd gasps.

You gape at him in utter shock. You had no idea this was coming.

“I accept,” you say barely above a whisper. He doesn’t hear you so you inhale deeply. “I accept.” The grin that spreads across his face makes your stomach roll in happiness.

“Bless you (Y/N),” he breathes and embraces you. The crowd craps and cheers while your parents weep tears of joy.

“You were always so polite I just thought..” you trail off unable to think clearly.

“(Y/N) you possess a heart unlike any other and a true beauty that rivals that of the Arkenstone. Every time we met you made me feel truly young and joyful again. I’ve known from the start that you are my one,” he confesses and you can help but grin wildly.

“I’ve always wished for you to court me and now it’s real. I’m just so happy,” you admit and stand on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek.

“And I as well.”

~~~

Thorin and you court for a year before getting impatient and deciding to wed.

The crown fits you perfectly and you’re now known to be the heart of the king under the mountain.

Queen || Draco Malfoy x Reader

{summary: sometimes, you fall in love with the person you least expect to be with.}

I’ve been working on the peter parker request for days now, yet still can’t find the muse to finish it and post it. So here, have this draco malfoy story instead.

this isn’t my best work like at all. I just wanted to do something to challenge myself because it’s been a rough day for me, and I find that writing always helps with making me happier.

warnings: language, and draco is going to be an annoying cunt for the first few parts of this story before turning sweet with age. draco malfoy (from what I remember with the books) is spoiled and likes to believe that the whole world is meant to be handed to him on a silver platter.

Love won’t come so easily between him and the reader, and if the subject of bullying triggers you, then please, do not read this story.

also, if you hate the enemies to lovers trope, this is definitely not the story for you.

ps house of gold is a MASTERPIECE.

word count: 4,100+

**dont repost/plagiarize this story**

——

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Not sure you got my ask about the last coldflash scene, about the poking scene. I want to know your thoughts about that. It was such a sweet moment from len it totally caught me off guard.

Originally posted by vixenvibe

It gets me, anon. It really does. 

Like here Len is giving Barry advice. Acknowledging there’s a dark side to him and agreeing that it’s what allows them to get along. That it’s what makes so they can understand each other. We know that Barry inspires Len (thanks to the speedforce), and has an impact on him, especially as of 2x03. But the last time Len saw Barry, he was still in denial of that, of wanting to be a hero.

Originally posted by dailycaptaincold

For Len, assuming this is a Legends S1 Len, that was only a few months ago. He wasn’t ready to commit back then. But then Barry comes along and again asks for his help, this time purely for the “true love” motive of saving Iris, and Len actually gives in and says yes this time. He comes along. He helps Barry while demanding nothing in return, except the joy and satisfaction of breaking into ARGUS and pissing off Joe West, presumably.

And it’s so interesting to me, that he’s gone through these stages, of denying he wants to be a hero and denying he has good in him, to going on the Legends trip while pretending (including to himself) that he has ulterior motives, to accepting that… what Barry sees in him is real. That the good part of him is real, however he tried to hide it. 

And that leads to this understanding that maybe why Barry could get through to him in the first place, why he ended up having a soft spot for the kid and making sure he didn’t die (despite betraying him) and why he made a deal with him in the first place, just all of it… maybe that came about in part of because what he sees in Barry. What they understand about each other.

Because Len puts his bad face out to the world and Barry puts his good face out. And Len sees underneath and around that happy mask Barry sometimes wears. In the woods, Barry threatened him, said that if Len goes after his family again, he doesn’t care, he’ll take Len down.

Originally posted by flashallens

There was a mutual understanding there, and I think Len saw it then, but didn’t quite understand fully what it was, yet. Barry’s capacity to be ruthless.

But now… now they’re in different positions. Barry doesn’t just have that latent potential, he’s starting to act on it, and Len sees it. Sees that Barry picked him for this job in part because of it, because he didn’t expect Len, of all people, to call him out on being ruthless and willing to kill.

But of course, Len is contrary and has gotta defy expectations,right? Because as the guy who was inspired by Barry in the first place, that’s troublesome. The heroes, the guys like Barry, are supposed to try and be better. They’re supposed to be what you aspire to.

But it’s also understandable, because he’s been there, he gets it. So when Barry doesn’t leave him behind, proves that the good in him still outweighs the darkness Len knows, has felt, can feel, he takes a little risk in expressing his relief, in his own way, and reminds Barry of the important role he fills, as a hero.

Originally posted by comicbookdaily

The role that he fits in Len’s life, though he doesn’t say it, as an inspiration to him. The Flash is a hero. Should stay that way. You should stay that way, Barry. Leave the killing to guys like me. Your suit doesn’t need the dust and tarnish, let me clean off those specks of lint and help keep your image clean.

Right?

It’s just a lovely moment, highlighting all the ways that they foil each other. And it surprised me with the openness, but given just how open Barry’s been with him, and how Barry’s seen him at some of his most vulnerable, and how Len’s in this kind of different place and recognizes that their dynamic has evolved and he’s in a position to affirm Barry and admonish him and also, maybe, do some inspiring of his own, to keep Barry on the path of the light? He takes that chance. He repays the trust Barry has in him in kind.

No Regrets (Part 7)

So I’ve been away for a few days, spending some time with my family. Didn’t manage to update this earlier but here it is now! Hope you like it!


Need to catch up? Here’s No Regrets Masterlist


Word count: 2.8k


Warnings: Swearing. Some angst. SASSY TONY.


A/N: Ooh, the tension, guys! Also, this gif is so perfect for this part!

Originally posted by starkexpo


You needed coffee today. Normally you’re pretty cheery when you arrive at work but this morning you were snappy and your colleagues noticed. The girls have asked you to nip around the corner to the café and grab you all some liquid caffeine. You were more than happy to do it – anything to get out of the office today! You were getting tired of all the drama. In a way you knew that this will pass in time, you’d just have to stick through it. But logic was not the dominant force today. Today angst and bitterness were having a day out in the life of Y/N…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

For FMM- Jamie meets this guy named Murray, that comes from a Scottish family and for the story he tells Jamie he could be a descendant of Jenny and Ian.

Flood my Mornings: Hogmanay 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

December 31, 1950

“Is it ridiculous that I’m feeling nervous as a girl on the first day of school?” I asked, smoothing my coat with one hand and squeezing Bree’s hand with the other as we waited in the tidy hallway outside the MacAlister’s door. 

“You’ve no reason, lass,” Jamie assured me. I knew he wanted to put his arm around my back, but his hands were full of whisky bottles and Bree’s diaper bag. He did manage to lean in and kiss my cheek. “They’ll take to ye just fine.” 

This particular get-together was long overdue. I’d been delighted to learn about Jamie’s serendipitous meeting with the Irish hurling group, and the subsequent connection with the lone Scot, Charlie MacAlister. Though Jamie had gone several times since to join the game or else get a drink one-on-one with Charlie (apparently a chap after Jamie’s own heart in many ways), the several times we had tried to schedule a family dinner since Halloween, the fates had always seen fit to intervene, with holidays, birthdays, morning sickness, et cetera, et cetera. 

Fitting, though, that at long last, we should be spending this thoroughly Scottish holiday with a thoroughly Scottish (well, Gaelic, collectively) family. 

The door opened with a bang and a roar of “A GOOD NEW YEAR TO YE!!”

Even in the first five seconds of our acquaintance, Charlie MacAlister gave me so strong a recollection of a MacKenzie clansman, I felt like I’d been jolted back into Castle Leoch itself. Jocular, irreverent, fiercely protective and loyal to a fault, those men had alternately vexed and delighted and protected and astounded me with their vigor and kindness and overall enthusiasm for living, in all its forms. 

Perhaps that’s why it didn’t perturb me in the slightest that Jamie’s friend’s choice greeting was to lift me clear off my feet in a massive rib-crushing hug; and even though it was the first time I was laying eyes on the man, I couldn’t help but laugh and hug him back , brimming with warmth and affection at once. “Well, hello to you too!”  I felt Jamie relax behind me: I’d given my permission, so he would not come to my rescue. I thought I could actually sense him grinning.  

“I’m so glad to finally meet ye, Claire!” Charlie boomed as he set me back on the ground, taking me in. “From the way Jamie speaks of ye—” His eyes suddenly lit up and he whipped them up to Jamie with a grin. “Why, ye wicked wee dog, Fraser: ye didna say!!” He threw his head back and roared with, “Meal a naidheachd to ye both!” He straightened to give me a wink. “When are ye due, then, lass?” 

“CHARLIE!!!” barked a red-haired woman behind him, his wife, Saoirse. 

“What? It’s—” Charlie spluttered and made vague gestures between himself and my notably curved belly. “I’m only—” 

“You’re only about making a fool of yourself, Charlie Mac. Keep your mouth shut, if you please?” She gave me an apologetic look that was nonetheless warm and kind. “Please be accepting BOTH our apologies for that great gowl over there.” After greeting Jamie, she turned and swatted her husband hard on the shoulder, her eyes blazing as she said between clenched teeth. “Have you no control over that tongue??”

“I do—and ye tend to like my control of it, lass…” and he bent her head back to kiss her thoroughly. She tried to push him away but she couldn’t resist laughing as his hands roamed and she relented and kissed him back. 

God, this. THIS I’d missed—to see another couple who loved our same kind of irreverence and warmth and informality. Husbands and wives in these times—at least in post-war America—tended to err on the side of reserve in public, bordering on primness. Even Tom and Marian, as dear as they both were to to us, weren’t free with public displays of affection toward each other. Jamie and I tended to act precisely the way we wished and damn whoever should judge us for it, but it was unbelievably refreshing to not be the only ones in the room who would not be scandalized by lewd jokes.

On top of that, “Pregnancy” was considered a rather rude word, in American culture at present. Considering the massive increase in childbearing after the war, this seemed an enormously ridiculous cultural hangup (“be fruitful and multiply, but pretend the penises and vaginas don’t exist”). Those in the family way —as I now found myself—were treated with a delicate, pointed kind of embarrassment, as if to say, ‘look what she’s been doing…Heavens, what if she actually enjoyed it??’ 

I was used to the taboo, of course, having experienced it with Bree, and seen it around me, since; but it was an unexpected kind of relief to have it be so singled out with such joy and goodwill by these new friends. In fact, I was grinning like a prize idiot as I assured them both, “It’s quite alright, really.” I felt a rush of joy and pride at finally being able to share our news. I felt Jamie’s hand resting on my back. “You’ve spotted it right: we are expecting!”

Charlie gave a crow of triumph “I thought you’d been a little shifty these last few months about ‘family’ and things happening next year! When will the wean be arriving, then??”

“Late July,” I said, “or it might be the first of August.”

 Charlie stepped forward to clap both of us on the back, at which Saoirse looked absolutely mortified. I made a point of reassuring her when she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and offer her own comhghairdeas. 

Jamie accepted the hearty congratulations, grinning like a fool himself, “Let’s keep it between us, aye? We havena told Brianna yet.” He nodded at the children, who were already playing on the living room floor. “Perhaps talk in a wee code if it should come up?”

Saoirse nodded agreement. “Wee Nolan has ears like a hare and a mouth like a magpie.” She gave a pointed roll of the eyes. “Wonder who he could possibly be getting it from…?”


It had all the same modern conveniences as our own house, the MacAlister’s little flat, but something about it—the spices, maybe?—or—no, that wasn’t it….Something about it just felt like Scotland. Like home. 

If nothing else, I could see it in Jamie’s posture and manner. As for my own country of birth, I had rarely felt any great attachment to England that went beyond good tea and rolling hills. Home had been wherever I laid my head that night, and between Uncle Lamb, the war, and my experiences in the eighteenth century, I’d certainly spent more of my life amongst strangers than my own proper countrymen. But Jamie was Scotland, through and through, and even this small taste of it—Americanized and quasi-Irish as it might be—was enough to make him glow with an ease that filled my own heart in the seeing. He was happy with our life in Boston, I knew; blissful, even! To have our family together and safe was all he desired; but something about experiencing that deeper home-ness again was a restorative to his soul, and I thanked God for putting Charlie Mac in Jamie’s path. It was pure delight to see the two of them going on in rapid Gaelic, like brothers.

“They’re like two pups together, aren’t they?” Saoirse said fondly, echoing my silent thoughts as she took a seat beside me on the sofa. 

“Indeed they are,” I laughed, looking at them through the dining room doorway. 

Saoirse was as red-haired as Jamie, freckled and cheery-eyed. “Will you be speakin’ the Gaelidgh yourself, Claire?”

Very little,” I attempted in that language, my accent horrendous but the words correct, I was fairly certain.

Very well done,” she replied, laughing before switching back to English, her Irish accent broad and unashamed. “That’s about as much as I know of it, myself. My parents weren’t too keen on my marrying a Scot, but I’ve no regrets. Except maybe Charlie’s tendency to put his fool foot in his fool mouth.” 

“It’s rather endearing, actually,” I assured her. 

Despite herself, Saoirse grinned. “Damn me if it wasn’t one of the things that had me head-over-heels for the idiot.” 

We laughed and settled deeper into the comfy couch, covered over with homey afghans. “So, Charlie tells me you and Jamie met in Scotland, originally? Did ye like it, there?”

“I did!” I paused just for a moment. “Well, to tell it true, a lot of sad things happened there…but we had some of our happiest days, as well,” I added, thinking of those days at Lallybroch before the war.  

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” 

I thought about that for a long while. “To visit, certainly. When Brianna and—” I gestured to the baby, “are old enough to see and hear the stories, I think.”

“You’d never think of moving back permanently? Seems to be a dream of Charlie’s—It’d surprise me if Jamie had no similar desire.” 

We had indeed talked about it, and I knew Jamie’s very conflicted thoughts on the matter. “Part of him wishes for Scotland, yes—but it’s a Scotland that’s long-gone.”

That surprised her. “How so?”

“Jamie had…a lot of hard things happen to him there. He lost his family, and so doesn’t have anyone left.” 

“Not a soul?” 

“No one,“ I said, feeling the ache of it. I rubbed the baby absently. “So, he misses it, the land and its people and ways, but there isn’t anyone left in Scotland to make it home for him.”

“That’s very sad,” Saoirse murmured, sparing a glance toward the men in the dining room.

“It is. But you see, it’s easier to have our life in America: to keep Scotland in his mind the way it was, rather than feel the ache of it, seeing always what’s missing.”

“Aye, I understand….At least he has his lady—and his little ones.”

We shared a smile, and I wanted to ask her more about her own family, but just then the children descended, Bree, four-year-old Nolan, and little Will, just barely walking. No impromptu migration, this: the pack of them squealed in, chased by their fathers at their heels. 

“You lot are no better than the children!” I laughed. 

“Aye, maybe no’,” Jamie agreed, grinning, “But at least we’re old enough to drink, and they’re not.” 

“I AM!” Nolan insisted. “I’m plenty grow’d up!” 

“Oh, aye, to be sure,” Charlie said with a wink.  “I forgot we had a grown wee mannie in our midst.” He went to the kitchen and returned with an armful of ginger ale bottles. “A man needs a stiff drink.” He cracked open a lid and handed the glass bottle to his son, who looked terribly important at acknowledgment of his maturity. 

Bree was NOT intending to be overlooked. She put on her hips and insisted, “I’M mannie, TOO!” daring Charlie to say otherwise.

Nor did he, bless him. He already had a bottle ready for her. “Here ye go, wee mannie.” 

Bree had never had soda pop before, and she recoiled in surprise at first taste of the bubbly treat, looking as thought she’d rather skip this novelty; but, a true Fraser, she would never admit defeat with Nolan so proudly enjoying his, and so she gamely drank, getting violent hiccups almost instantly. 

“A Hogmanay toast?” Saoirse suggested, rising to her feet to pour some whisky. She offered one to me, but I accepted only a ginger ale.  Many people drank alcohol regularly during pregnancy, I knew (as had I, in the past) but somehow now it made me feel ill to think of accidentally intoxicating the poor thing. 

The toasts flew thick and fast. To our families! To the new year! To a better season on the pitch! To the whisky! And even—

“To our Bonnie Prince!” Charlie said, with an eye to Jamie, making a rude gesture toward the ceiling. “May he sleep wi’ spiders in his grave for the feckless wanker he was.”

“AAA-bloody-MEN!” I intoned with feeling.

“Aye,” Jamie said with a rueful nod as he drank, though he crossed himself.

He promptly choked as Bree squeaked out, “Whatssa WANE-gr?”

Before the rest of us could react, Nolan grinned fiendishly and started in with, “It means a–”

“That’s QUITE enough from you, a blalaich,” Saoirse said sharply. “And what would Great-Gran Murray say if she heard ye were knowing such a word??”

I shook with silent laughter along with Charlie, such that I almost didn’t hear Jamie’s quiet question: 

“…Murray?” 

My belly tightened and I whipped my eyes up to look at him. He’d schooled his face into a mask of control—a sure bellwether of the deep emotional turmoil within him. 

Good Lord…. 

“My mother’s mam. They live together in Cambridge,” Charlie said blithely as he poured more whiskey all around. “The MacAlisters were none too pleased about my Da’s choice, but even they had to admit in the end what a fine woman she was. Strong and certain and wi’ a mouth on her that could wither fruit. Not one to charm royalty, she, but a damn formidable sort, Murrays.”

Formidable.  Like Jenny. 

“From, erm, which part of Scotland, is your mother’s family?” I asked casually.

“Roundabout Inverness, mostly.”

My heart quickened with excitement. Not far at all from Broch Morda. I was opening my mouth to ask more questions, to narrow and ascertain, but then I caught Jamie’s eye, his ever-so-slight shake of the head. I closed my mouth.

Later, after supper, while Charlie and Saoirse cleared the table (refusing our many offers of help), Jamie and I took the children into the sitting room again.  

I took Jamie’s hand. “Why not, my love?” I asked gently. 

He knew what I meant, but he didn’t answer right away, nor did he look me in the eye. He pulled me close and pressed a kiss to my cheek. 

“Does it—” I began tentatively, but he was already speaking. 

“Tis enough to me,” he said, simply, “that they might be.” 

And though it at first struck me as utterly ridiculous, not to wish to know for certain, I did come to understand what he meant, as the evening went on. To KNOW was so final.  Jenny and Ian certainly had THOUSANDS of descendants, and even so, the chances that we’d encountered someone from their direct line was highly unlikely, or at the very least, very difficult to prove. To allow himself to believe–that was the gift, here.

And I could see it in his eyes, the soft contemplation of it, the sense of true brotherhood between he and Charlie now even deeper. The tenderness that radiated out from his face as he knelt to speak to little Will about a toy. I could almost see the thoughts rolling through him.

Might some scrap of this lad owe itself to Ian? 

To Jenny? 

To Ellen of Leoch or Black Brian Fraser?

Aye…it might.


“Bree, a leannan, do ye want to come sit wi’ Da?” 

“No,” she said, shrugging back and rubbing her face, “I wan’ Mama.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughed. “I would want your Mama, too.” 

“Come here, baby,” I beckoned, groaning a bit as I gathered her up against my chest. “Oof, there’s my sweet girl.” I savored the feeling, as I always did, of holding Bree in my arms and the baby in my body. The sounds around us were muffled and distant as we settled into a warm heap of love.

The radio was switched on at 10:00, detailing the new year’s celebrations happening around the country. We’d arrived late in the evening, with the little ones having taken naps late in the day to stave off sleepiness, but the late hour was still wearing on them. Hot chocolate and slices of Black Bun cake at 11:00 were enough to rouse them temporarily, but it still took a great deal to get them all conscious for the big moment as we all got to our feet for the final seconds of 1950. 

5…4…3…2…1!!!!

And as it always did, Auld lang syne began to play. It meant absolutely nothing to Jamie, of course. He had predated Robert Burns and his lyrics, and couldn’t have discerned the tune in any case, but he listened to the words with eager interest. Charlie was drowning out the radio with the traditional scots rendition, though I only knew the same anglicized version that was playing. 

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne?

And for the first time in my life, with my children held close and Jamie’s arm around my back, the song gave me chills:

We two have run about the slopes,

and picked the daisies fine;

But we’ve wandered many a weary foot

since auld lang syne.


We two have paddled in the stream,

from morning sun till dine

But seas between us broad have roared

since auld lang syne.

And both of us had tears running down our faces as we locked eyes. No, we wouldn’t ever forget the things of our past: neither the daisies of our life, nor the weary feet from the trampings of war, nor the roaring seas of tragedy that had indeed once swept us apart.  

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!

And give me a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.


And as we moved toward the front door for the first-footing, I kissed my trusty friend, and didn’t need to see any dark stranger outside to know that 1951 would be the best year of our lives. 


4

1st letter - Hyorin:

To Star1, who have always loved and support us. Hello, this is SISTAR’s leader Hyorin. It’s already been seven years since SISTAR debuted. The time I have spent with my fellow members and Star1 as SISTAR’s Hyorin have been like a dream, so precious that I wouldn’t change them for the world. We will now be going our separate ways to start a new chapter in our lives. I want to sincerely thank Star1 for teaching us how much of a joy and blessing it is to sing for someone, to perform on stage for someone, to be loved by someone, and to love that person back. Putting our regrets behind us, we hope to support each other’s dreams and do our best to grow and be better as individuals. I love my fellow members and Star1 and you will forever be in my heart. You’ve given me more love than I deserve and given me strength, even though I am lacking in may ways. I want to thank you with all my heart. I love you…”

2nd letter - Soyou

It’s already been seven years. The happy moments and difficult times have been more happy and less difficult because I always had my fellow members and Star1 by my side. Looking back on our time with our fans, I feel bad and regretful because I feel like I never did enough. No matter what I do in the future, I will never forget how I feel about my fellow members and fans. I love you… I’m sorry… and I’m grateful. I’ll be back with good music. Till the very end, let’s all remember to be happy.

3rd letter - Dasom:

There are so many things I want to say to you guys, but I feel agonized and cautious about what I should say first. It’s been seven years since we debuted under the name SISTAR. I want to thank you for always supporting and loving us. I believe that we’ve been able to end this seven-year journey, which would have been a little rough otherwise, on a happy note thanks to our connection with you. We have made the tough decision to end our activities as SISTAR with this upcoming album and walk our individual paths. We hope to continue to repay our fans for the overflowing love you have given us as SISTAR through our individual activities. We will work hard to connect with you more. Please support us. Thank you.

4th letter - Bora

Star1, hello. It’s SISTAR’s Bora. Every year, I tell our fans to be happy, and I wonder if the past seven years have been happy and fun for you. The times I’ve spent with the other members of SISTAR and Star1 have been so precious and happy. I feel like my hard work never fully expressed how I feel about our fans, and the feeling of regret I have for not doing better during our time as SISTAR continues to grow. When you told me that seeing me bright and happy gave you strength, I worked even harder to be more energetic. I will continue to do so in the future. So many memories are flashing through my head as I write this. We’ve decided to support each other on our individual paths. However, this won’t be the last time you see us, and I will work hard to be the best that I can be as Yoon Bora. To our Star1, who have loved SISTAR and have loved Bora, thank you for always being by our side. I was happy. Let’s keep being happy. I love you.

Girls’ Night In (reader x Avengers/Scott Lang)

Characters: reader, Wanda, Natasha, Scott Lang, Cassie Lang. 

Summary: It’s ladies night at the tower, complete with a Gilmore Girls marathon,  junk food, and friendly rivalries when a surprise visitor puts a twist on the evening’s events. (spoilers for Gilmore Girls, if you haven’t seen it yet)

Warnings: nada!! Pure fluff, ya’ll. Cavity inducing. 

Word Count: 2275 (good heavens, that was an accident)

Tags are at the bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED)

A/N: This is for my lovely, my darling Mariana ( @buckysberrie ) Happy Birthday, sweetie!! I really hope you enjoy this. :) Man, I dunno how this got so long but the fluff kept flowing and when I thought of the single parent parallels, well, I just couldn’t stop. Any thoughts are appreciated!! 

Masterlist

_______________________________________________________

Originally posted by miranduhhpriestly

“Ugh, he’s such a spoiled, Trust Fund jerk-face.”

“He is not!” Natasha protested. “He’s just…a little entitled and misunderstood. Just how I like ‘em,” the redhead smirked, returning her gaze to the tv screen.

“Seriously? Logan? The Life and Death Brigade, are you kidding me? Ridiculously lavish parties in the woods with formal wear, death-defying stunts, and games where you can’t use the letter “E” in conversation? Yeah, not at all pretentious,” you fired back sarcastically, throwing a handful of popcorn in her direction.

“Oh, right, like you haven’t used the term ‘misunderstood’ to describe a certain well-read, possibly criminal, runaway bad boy who crashes cars,” she replied, cocking an eyebrow.

You gasped in horror. “How dare you speak ill of my Jess! He was her match intellectually and in pop culture references, plus with their love for music and books, it’s no secret that they belong together. He was just immature but he grew up really well,” you smiled before biting your lip with thoughts of the older brunet bad boy, trying not to spoil it.

“Hey, now! No need to fight,” Wanda spoke up, acting as the peacemaker. “Besides, we all know Rory belongs with Dean. Obviously.”

Keep reading