@i am chris new

happy birthday to my special boy !!!!
it’s a hamster plush party


Ellis Grant glanced up towards the flickering white light, it had been playing up for days now and the more she looked it, the more it infuriated her. She’d been in the facility for longer than she cared to remember, in fact she had lost count of the number of days long ago. Her days, which were once filled with warm sunlight and the fresh air of the outdoors, were now regimented and gruelling, filled with artificial light and the sterile scent of hospital corridors. 

“Elle…” Owen Grady’s voice tore Ellis’ attention from the flickering light and she stared at him blankly. She didn’t speak much these days, in fact she did very little. “Please…” Owen pleaded, “…just try.” 

If she could’ve found it in herself, Ellis would have laughed. Try she thought. As though it were that simple. As though she hadn’t been trying since the moment they brought her out of the coma that they had kept her in for weeks. She’d done her trying, and she’d gotten precisely nowhere. 

The two of them stared at each other intensely for short while before eventually Owen sighed and stood up, turning away from Ellis and walking towards the window on the opposite side of the room. He left her in her wheelchair at the end of the parallel walking bars that had been her nemesis for the past couple of weeks and looked out towards the entrance gates. When he caught sight of a figure, heading towards the large wrought iron gates Owen smirked. Heading towards the rehabilitation centre was a tall, thin, man with greying hair. He was dressed entirely in black: black shirt, black trousers, black socks, black shoes, and walked with an air of self confidence like nothing Owen had ever seen before. He neared the building, a sarcastic grim reaper, there to pull Ellis from the slump she presently found herself in. 

“Oh you’re in for it now Grant.” 


Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Teens and Up
Summary: Chris and Reader spend a lazy and funny Sunday together in their Californian house by the beach before he leaves to promote Gifted.
Word Count: 1.4k
Genre: Fluff!
Warnings: two innuendos, but it’s just an adorable moment with Chris.
Author’s Note: This little story is dedicated to @always-an-evans-addict. I do hope you will like it because I’ve had so much fun writing it, xo. Also, thank you so much to @punkrockhippiefromthefourties for being my beta and for giving me all these tips and suggestions. You saved my life. If this fic is good, it’s thanks of her.

    The sun peeked in the bedroom window, illuminating your hair like a fiery halo, and so slowly, you lifted your head from the pillow. Despite your grogginess, you looked out at the beach off in the distance as the sun’s vibrant rays sent a glossy, gold sheen all around the room and the sound of the rhythmic waves of the ocean brought a peaceful hymn to your ears.

    Your eyelids closed again, and you rested back against your pillow, feeling Chris’ chest inches away from your body. You enjoyed the restful moment and hummed lightly as you remembered how much you lived for those quiet mornings with your husband by your side.

    “Hi, sweetie,” Chris’ sleepy voice spoke behind you. He put a hand on your arm and you lazily turned around. “You look so beautiful in the morning.”

    “You aren’t so bad yourself, Dorito,” you complimented, pecking his nose.

    “I was actually talking to the sun,” he joked with a jovial smile of his, and you laughed heartily, tipping your head back.

    Chris beamed at you, enjoying the melody of your laugh and he took the opportunity to climb on top of you. Yet, as he leaned into the kiss he chased every morning, you turned your head to the side and looked at the beach with this obvious smirk.

    “Y/N, I didn’t ask to wake up to nothing.”

    “Shut up,” you retorted and restrained your giggle.

    “What?” He furrowed his brows, feigning anger, but he couldn’t hold the character.

    “Shut up and kiss me.” You turned back to him, cupping his bearded cheek. You closed your eyes, melting when his lips captured yours and claimed them as his proudly.  

    “Now, you don’t have ‘nothing’.”

    “If I keep talking, can I have another?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

    “Depends on what you tell me,” you giggled as he moved to your ear and whispered a sweet nothing. “I need a shower, first and then breakfast in bed?”

    “I’m going to work out quickly and take a shower after you.” He placed a loving peck on your forehead and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

    “It’s Sunday, Chris. You can’t lift weights.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him back with you.

    “Of course I can do some push-ups,” he chuckled and you shot up in bed.

    “It’s a lazy day. We don’t do anything, but laugh, chill and make out in our case.”

    “It’s been a while since our last lazy Sunday. I completely forgot.”

    “Oh, man… Poor you,” you faked a sob, wrapping your arms around his chest. “We need to fix this.”

    “Uh, can I say hello to Dodger at least?”

    That afternoon, you sat on the couch, book in hand with Chris’ head on your lap and he scratched on his sketchbook silently, almost too focused on his art. Your free fingers played with the locks of his light brown hair as he used this quiet time to come back to something he had missed doing.

    After a few minutes using his pencil on the page filled with a beautiful depiction of nature, your husband put the sketchbook on the ground. He stretched his body over your lap, brushing your hip with his hand and he poked you lightly, earning your sweet giggle.

    “I’ve always thought you were ‘only surprised’.” A mischievous smirk grew on his face as he sat up and turned his head to you. “You’ve always been ticklish, haven’t you?”

    “I’m not,” you lied, trying to keep your concentration on the book.

    “Oh, really?” He moved closer to you, pressing his body against you. “Because it doesn’t seem like that.”

    “No, Chris.” You closed your book and finally met his playful gaze. “I know what you are thinking about, don’t do it.”

    “Am I that obvious?” Chris inquired, inching towards you with a new mischievous grin.

    “Christopher, we are not children. We are very serious grown people,” you countered, slowly standing from the couch and he scoffed.

    “Doesn’t mean I can’t do that.” He enveloped his large hand around your wrist and yanked down. He pounced at you and immediately tickled your sides, reaching certain spots of your body that secretly made you laugh each time he had poked or caressed them with his hands.

    You squirmed around before laughing uncontrollably as his fingers dug into your waist, making you laugh even harder. Tears of mirth threatened to spill as well as incomprehensible pleads flew out of your mouth underneath him as he kept torturing you so sweetly.

    “CHR- CHRIS NO!” You gasped for air, shrieking. “PLEASE! I- I- CHRIS… CHRIS!”

    He laughed as you kept on giggling like a maniac under the work of his fingers and he eventually gave you a break. Like nothing had happened, Chris smirked lightly and let you take this moment to catch your breath, sighing in relief.

    You looked up at him with this glare and he leaned his head to the side, lovingly staring at you with this beautiful smile that had you melting instantly.

    “This isn’t fair.” You rested on your elbows. “You are too strong.”

    “They say that. You seem to like it usually.” He winked and you threw your head back, placing your hands on your forehead as you giggled again.

    After leaving you in peace for a brief minute, Chris stared once more at your body with his famous smirk and he leaned in. He placed his hands on your neck and you dissolved into a pile of giggles as he tickled your skin down to your sides without a break.

    “PLEASE CHRIS! I- I CAN’T H- HOLD IT” You tried to fight back, failing miserably because of your lack of strength.

    “You say you aren’t ticklish, huh, sweetheart?”

    Chris accompanied your joyful laugh, trying to hold your squirming figure and you turned your head to the side, seeing the opportunity to free yourself. You managed to grab the cushion next to you, smacking his head with it and he backed away, pretending to be shocked.

    “This means war,” he warned with this light chuckle in the background.

    “Pillow fight, Evans!”

    You rolled off the couch and ran upstairs to your bedroom with your husband running after you. He slammed the door shut behind him and grabbed his feathery pillow, mimicking your swift movement.


    You jumped on the bed, smacking the pillow across his face and you laughed, daring him. Another hit and he didn’t even flinch as he joined you on the mattress. Your pillows used as hammers and shields at the same time, you hit each other and the feathers flying around you blinded your vision whilst you could only hear Chris’ constant giggles as he hit your belly with a new full pillow that spewed its content everywhere.

    You threw another pillow at him, but he smashed his fist into it and dropped it down, having your jaw dropping as you looked at the feathers on the bed and everything around covered by a white shin of softness.

    Taking advantage, Chris sneaked behind you, folding his strong arms around your waist and he lifted you up, spinning you around. Your head fell backward on his shoulder as you laughed and he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face in the crook.

    “Chris! Put me down… I’m- I’m going to throw up if you-”

    “All right,” he laughed, the same sound you found so adorable.

    Chris eventually let you down after more pleads and you let yourself fall on the mattress, lying down. He joined almost too enthusiastically as the bed collapsed under both your weight and you squealed. You looked at him with wide eyes until you burst out into laughter again, putting a hand on your chest and he mimicked famously.

    “That bed was too old anyways,” you gasped, wiping away the tears.

    “Yeah, it’s only the third in four months.”

    “We’re filthy.”

    “I can’t get enough of your laugh,” he whispered, calming down and he caressed your cheek. “I love you.” His eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, then your mouth again.

    “I love you too, honey.” You rolled over to climb on top him and attached your lips sweetly together

    “I’ve missed chilling with you.” Chris passed his fingers through your hair and you put your chin on his chest, looking at him.

    “Me, too.”

    @feelmyroarrrr @gallifreyansass @bicevans @ballerinafairyprincess @misschrisevans @always-an-evans-addict @kennadance14 @buckybarnesisalittleshit @helloitscrowley @captainamerica-ce @kiwi71281 @topthis808 @dead-lee-15 @the-daydreamer-girl @our-love-world @hellomissmabel @voidobsession @mrssierrarogers @redstarstan @punkrockhippiefromthefourties @angryschnauzer @fangirling-is-what-i-do-best @minstrel-axx @captainamerotica @kaitlynthehuman @juneookami @mellifluous-melodramas @sfreeborn @buckyswinterchildren @potterhead1265 @castellandiangelo @louisespecter @fvckingevans @katnisswa @justanotherfangurlz @10kindsofderp @1enchantedfantasy1 - tell me if you’d like to be added. :)

    ID #68370

    Name: Chloe Isabella (Izzy)
    Age: 17
    Country: New Zealand

    Hi everyone!
    My name is Chloe Isabella (everyone calls me Izzy but feel free to pick your own nickname ;)) and I am 17 yr old English girl living in New Zealand.
    I LOVE music (Pink Floyd, Mac Demarco, Arctic Monkeys, Mt Joy, Sticky Fingers, The Neighbourhood, Harry Styles, I really could go on), films (Interstellar (Chris Nolan is THE BEST director, I WILL fight you on that), Birdman, Whiplash, La La Land, anything really :) and I LOVE breaking them apart and analysing what makes them good and such.
    I also love ballet, plays and musicals, basically anything live especially concerts!
    I’m in my last year at school and kinda shitting myself about it but I think having a friend with low maintance will be good for me to rant and ramble at plus I think it will help my writing :)
    I can talk about literally anything (except maybe gaming, I’m sorry I’ve only ever played sims) from deep discussions about love, space, climate change, film and music messages and conspiracy theories to dumb gossipy school stuff and complaining about our first world lives hahaha.
    Replies will probably be quick, just depends how busy I am at school which is usually never busy enough to stop me spending way too long online ahhaa and also on time differences since New Zealand has a completely different time to everywhere else.
    I do kinda talk about myself a lot but I’m always there if you have any issues or anything you wanna talk about of course!

    Preferences: 15-20ish i suppose, anyone really, even youngens wanting advice!
    Email is preferable but if you’re up for snail mail we can sure give it a go!

    The Hottie Next Door

    Characters : Chris Evans x Reader

    Summary : Chris moves in next door. Only thing is, he isn’t alone. *based off my out of bounds series*

    Warning : Language?

    Word Count : 2,521 

    A/N : So i thought it’d be fun to rewrite my very first series!!! I hope you all enjoy!! 

    Sounds of loud laughter coming from outside of your window, woke you from dead sleep. Almost startling you.

    You huffed as you turned to your side, to glance at the clock on your night stand.

    “7:30?!” You groaned to yourself, growing annoyed.

    Today is Saturday. The only day you ever get to sleep in. But alas, your neighbors decided otherwise.

    You tore herself out of bed, knowing damn well you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

    “I can’t wait to move out.” You sighed.

    Your phone lit up with a sound of an alert. A notification popping up from your best friend, Riley.

    Good morning sleeping beauty! The boys and I are going to get some coffee, want to join?

    Though, You would much rather stay in bed and chill, coffee did sound perfect right about now. Especially after the rude awakening you had.

    I’m down. Starbucks, downtown?

    Keep reading

    Without You (ch.1)

    • Chris Evans x Reader •
    //soulmate au. you wake up on your eighteenth birthday having switched bodies with your soulmate.//
    |Also, if you have a problem with big age gaps, please read this at your own risk!|

    keys: (h/t) hair type/texture  (h/c) hair color  (y/n/n) your nickname



        “W-Why do I always feel so empty? So-So lost all the time? Like I’m missing the biggest part of me, Dad? Why do I feel like there’s a hole in my heart that I can never fill?” teeny-tiny 6 year old you asks in between sniffs and sobs.
        “Oh my sweetie,” your father coos as he holds you close to him and kisses your forehead. “I always knew you would be one of the few,” he smiled to himself as combed his fingers through your (h/t) (h/c) hair.
        “What do you mean Poppie?” you looked up at him as he wiped your runny nose with a tissue.
        “Well,” he began with the most loving grin you have ever seen.
        He began to tell you how everyone felt differently about being apart from their other half. Some felt- well, they felt okay. They weren’t really affected by not having their soulmate yet. But the others, the others weren’t exactly rare, but they were very seldom. The others are the best kind of lovers. They feel so much loss being away from their soulmate, despite the fact that they either don’t even know they have one, or they haven’t even met them yet. They feel the loss of something they haven’t even lost yet. It was hard for them, sure, but finally being united with their other made up for it. I mean, you could imagine how wonderful it would feel to be united with the one destined for you, right? It would feel absolutely magnificent. Magical even.
        “Is that how it felt when you were united with Mi-Mi?” six year old you giggled in your chuckling Daddy’s arms.
        “You bet it was, sugar-plum,” your mom smiled as she wrapped her arms around your Pops’ neck. “And you’ll experience it too someday, (y/n/n).
        “Will I really?” you asked with glistening eyes staring at your parents with so much hope.
        “We promise you, sweetheart,” your mom said as she kissed you and your Dad goodnight.


        Chris went to sleep in excitement the night before his long awaited 18th birthday. His 18th birthday! It was going to be here, it was gonna be here at last! He would switch bodies with his soulmate! He would meet his soulmate!           He woke up the next morning feeling ecstatic. He quickly pushed himself out of his bed and- ‘But wait,’ he thought.
        ‘That’s still my bed,’
    he observed with a broken heart,
        ‘And that’s still my nightstand.’
        And that’s still my bookshelf,’
    he thought as he began to slide down the side of his bed.
        “And this is still my body,”
    he whispered with tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt confused, he felt sad, he felt disappointed, and then he felt betrayed. He felt angry.
    he said through frustrated sobs as his family rushed into his bedroom, expecting to meet their new family member.
        “You said
    I would meet them,” he said, still unable to find his voice through all the tears falling.
        “You said all the pain would go away,
    that it would be magical,” he sobbed into his mom’s shoulder as she hugged him tight, shushing his fragile tears.
        “You said I’d meet them,”
    he whispered as his voice cracked.
        “Don’t worry, bud,” Chris’ father said with a sad smile. “This isn’t the end. This just means that you’re older than them, Chris,” he reassured his son, now wiping his tears. “You’ll meet them, I promise you, you’ll find them. And they’ll find you. You’ll find each other. Just not yet. And that’s okay.”
        “Yeah,” Scott said grinning at his older brother, “Remember it was the same with Mom and Dad? It’ll be okay, big bro! Hang in there,” he reassured his older brother as Chris pulled him into a hug.
        “Yeah,” Chris said with a smile and a small sniff, now feeling way better than a few moments ago. “Great things are worth waiting for, right?”
        So that’s exactly what he did, he waited for you. He waited patiently for you, worried and sometimes still a little pained, but he never gave up. After all, great things are worth waiting for.


        It was Chris’ 34th birthday and he still hasn’t been united with his soulmate.
        “Damn,” Anthony said as he slung his arm over Chris’ shoulder. “You are in some serious shit bro, she is young,” he joked and everyone in their little circle (Scarlet, Robert and his wife, Chris Hemsworth and his wife, Chris Pratt and his wife, Tom, Jeremy, Elizabeth, Sebastian, and Mark) laughed at his overused joke.
        “I bet she’s fuckin’ hot,” Jeremy teased just before Scarlet smacked him upside the head.
        “I bet she’s lovely, Chris,” Scarlet smiled to the birthday boy as Jeremy seethed a “What the fuck Scar?”
        “I have a feeling you’ll meet her soon,” Tom grinned at Chris.
        “I do too,” Chris smiled at everyone. “And even if I don’t,” he chuckled to the group.
        “Great things are worth the wait!”
    they all said in unison with huge grins plastered on their faces as they raised their beer cups.
        “That they are,” Chris whispered as he took a sip of his beer, “That they are.”

    One year later
          It was your 18th birthday and you had never dreaded something so much. But you also had never awaited something in this much anticipation either. You were scared, but you were also so incredibly excited. It was exciting because you would finally get to experience what your parents told you stories about, what your older peers had experienced already and told you about as well, what your younger peers dreamed about, what you dreamed about. What everyone dreamed about.
        However, it was dreaded because you had heard stories about people who didn’t switch with their soulmate when they were eighteen. About some other people who lost their soulmate on the day they met them, or even before that. And the worst of all, you heard stories about people who just- they simply didn’t have a soulmate.
        And that was exactly what kept you anchored to the bed you were in. It’s what kept your eyes glued shut that morning. It’s what kept your hands clinging to the place where your heart lay in your chest to brace yourself from it breaking completely.
        But the mere possibility of none of that happening to you was what won. So you unclenched your fists, you opened your eyes and your fears were conquered. Your fears subsided, all your doubts drowned as you stared at the ceiling above you that was not even a tiny bit familiar. You looked to your right and you saw a nightstand you didn’t know, a lamp that you have never touched, and an Astronomy book- ‘Hey,’ you smiled to yourself, ‘We already have things in common.’

    {YAAAAAY PART ONE IS DONE. I know I’m probably writing this to very few people but it makes me sound professional to write this note as if I’m talking to many, so *wink* ;D. I’m testing the waters with this one, I’m not sure if it’s that good, so please give me your feedback! Tell me what you think! So I can see if I should continue this! It would mean a whooole lot! LOTS OF LOVE TO WHOEVER IS READING THIS}

    Who I Am With You
    Chris Young
    Who I Am With You

    “I’ve been a rolling stone all my life flying all alone, flying blind. I’ve seen it all, I’ve been around, I’ve been lost and I’ve been found. But who I am with you is who I really want to be. You’re so good for me and when I’m holdin’ you, it feels like I’ve got the world in my hands. Yeah, a better man is who I am with you.”

    So I was looking for distractions, and I found the first half of this, which I’d written for @viperbranium ages ago, when the I’m Dying Up Here *trailer* first came out, so this is some Evanstan loosely inspired by that; I added enough to give this bit a sense of closure, I think, so here you all go! As I recall, we had a much larger plot that we talked through, but I think we’re both awfully busy these days…


    The new kid’ll be trouble.

    Sebastian leans a shoulder against the wall. Holds a cigarette between fingers; doesn’t light it. Watches the kid leave the manager’s office: bright-eyed, ink-stained, brimming over with emotion. The kid probably still cries at Disney movies. Probably can sing along to every song.

    The kid’s actually closer to Sebastian’s own age. He’s aware.

    He blows hair out of his face. It feathers up and settles back down. Shadows lie along his back, content and easy. James Dean, he thinks. Young and reckless. It’s too early a reference, but what the hell.

    The kid’s beaming. Sebastian, who knows all the comedy club’s gossip, knows his name. Christopher Robert Evans. Artist, or trying to be. Doing some poster design for their big-name shows. Doing some ads. The kid has neat short dark hair and sensitive Labrador-puppy eyes, and Sebastian’d watched him kneel down and give a dollar to a homeless man with a dog the day before, on the way in to his brief show-me-your-work-okay-you’re-hired-trial-basis interview. Sebastian’d nearly said something about street-dirt and the kid’s knees, but had decided not to bother.

    He’s no one’s good Samaritan. No one’s hero.

    Keep reading

    Since the majority of my family doesn’t believe in God, this year we decided to have a little fun and take Christ out of Christmas and put Chris in instead.

    The rules: you have to chose the Chris closest to your heart that year and leave them a offering of cookies (at least 2) on Christmas Eve next to a photo of them. In return Chris will leave you a gift on Christmas morning in thanks. You can only reuse a Chris if no other Chris has become closer to your heart. Their full name does not have to be Chris, they just have to go by it.

    The Chris’s we chose this year(from left to right) is:
    Chris Hartley from Until Dawn
    Chris Giacometti from Yuri on Ice
    Chris Pratt actor
    Chris Demarais from rooster teeth