TALKING ABOUT MY BODY AS IF IT'S A NEARBY OBJECT DOES NOT MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

Thinking Out Loud

Pairing: Charles Xavier x Reader

Request: Could you do a Charles Xavier song imagine with the song Thinking Out Loud? Really fluffy?

Summary: You guys fell in love (in mysterious ways) before Charles lost his ability to walk and then stayed with him after Cuba to take care of him and he’s frustrated that he can’t do anything anymore

Warning: super emotional and fluffy :’) this is like 1600+ words whoops I got carried away

A/N: I absolutely adore Charles he’s such a fluffy little cutie pie :’) Im currently working on a few new imagines for peter, angel, alex and hank because my poor loves get litte to no attention aside from peter because lets be real evan peters is a god.. But of like adorable awkwardness and making that somehow the sexiest thing on the planet.



You and Charles. Thats the way it had always been after he found you. In the wake of the cold war, Erik and Charles had gone out scouting potential mutants for the “X-Men”, a group of mutants to help the government fight off any potential threats to the state; including Shaw. When Charles had connected to Cerebro you had been the strongest field he had felt and made it his duty to seek you out. They had found you in an alleyway stealing food from a nearby convenience store; you hadn’t taken a lot -just enough for that night’s dinner- but the sight made Charles extremely sad.  

“Your gift is beautiful, y/n!” He marvelled as he watched the way you could so effortlessly control the tiny particles in your body and objects around you.

You jumped at the sudden voices petrified that you had been caught. ‘How does he know my name? Is he with the government?’

Suddenly you heard a deep voice in your head, soft and comforting, “We didn’t mean to frighten you, my name is Charles, I’m a telepath. My friend here is Erik, he controls metal. We aren’t here to hurt you we just have a proposition. You are so lovely my dear and your gift is incredible.”

You blushed brightly, turning away as no one had ever referred to your mutation as a ‘gift’.

“Y/n you are more powerful than you will ever know. You shouldn’t have to steal to survive, and you won’t have to, not with us. Come with Erik and I and we will show you a world where you don’t have to hide or cower away. Mutant and proud. Together.”

Naturally he faced no opposition on your end as you eagerly joined his team; interested to learn more about yourself and others. You were Charles’ best student, rapidly mastering your own abilities as well as developing new skills you hadn’t thought of before for instance you could sense people’s energy fields; deducing where their powers came from and their strength. Eventually you began to assist in other students trainings. For Raven you showed her how much more vulnerable the human body was because you knew it would empower her in her natural form; infact the two of you even discovered a quicker and easier way for her to shift. You helped Alex learn to feel the current of his own power as they flowed through him and taught him that controlling his power just meant focusing on it. As for Sean, the two of you got on quite nicely as both your powers could manipulate the natural properties of things. Charles always admired your natural charm and way with people; he’d often invite you to play a game of chess with him or an early morning coffee run just to be close to you.

“Thank you for helping y/n. I don’t think we could have gotten this far without you.” Charles had smiled at you softly one day after training. Alex had successfully learned to contain his power and was now strutting around the dining hall sharing his success to anyone who’d listen.

You blushed, turning away from Alex to focus on a very sincere, very attractive Charles, “It was nothing really, I was just enjoying having some mutant friends.”

“Well those mutant friends are very lucky to have you!” He winked, his face illuminated in a gorgeous million dollar smile. You were utterly entranced as his eyes scanned over you.

You giggled nervously brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “I doubt they feel the same” A small smile began to twist its way onto your face as you remembered some particularly annoying and embarrassing moments shared with them. Charles took a slight step closer and you were no longer smiling, hell you weren’t even breathing. ‘Is this real?’ you wondered as his breath ghosted over your cheeks his deep voice whispering, “I know I’d be lucky to have you”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to understand what he was saying. “W-would you like to..”

“To..?”

“To have me?”

“Yes, darling, I would love to.”

“To..?”

“To be with you, to be the cause of that beautiful smile and to see you grow and prosper by my side. You are so extraordinary, not just your gift but you, and I want you to be mine and me to be yours..”

You were in awe, your mouth was dry, your mind dizzy as you tried to understand what he was saying. You had been in love with Charles since the first time you heard his voice in your head.

“how about dinner this friday night at 6?”

“uh yeah sounds great.”

“Dress nice I’m going to take you somewhere special.”

That friday night he had taken you to the fanciest restaurant in europe, ordering his favorite aged wine -which you decided was probably worth more than you could ever afford- and making a toast to the beautiful woman at his side; i.e. you. You spent the night talking and drinking, ordering a few dozen appetizers until you couldn’t even fathom trying to eat a meal. He had insisted you try their lamb but you were more interested in him than the food. Before you left for the mansion, you begged him to let you walk through the streets more, you had never been to paris and it has always been on you to do list. A live band was playing down the street and you couldn’t help but run to it, swaying to the music as Charles wrapped an arm around you.

“You are absolutely stunning.” He whispered happily, nipping at your ear. Completely caught off guard you jumped away, a small squeak sounding from your lips as you desperately went to cover them. A small giggle pouring through you as you poked him in the chest, “You scared me.”

He feigned shock as he quickly bowed, “Oh no! My apologies m’lady! It shall not happen again.”

You giggled again, delighted with his response and humor, “Mhm better not.” You joked sassily before kissing his cheek.

“Someday m’lady I will make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

You and Charles began to fall for one another more and more each day. The way his smile could flip your world upside down, or the giddy feeling that filled your chest when he whispered your name. He’d always run his fingers through your hair and whisper about how much he loved you; he’d say every kiss with you was like a match to the burning flame in his heart. And then Cuba happened. As if Erik turning on Charles wasn’t bad enough, when Erik was deflecting the bullet Moira shot at him it pierced Charles instead. The whole scene had been so devastating and fast you hadn’t known what to do. Before you knew it you were at Charles’ side but he pushed you away.

“I don’t want you to see me like this!” He pleaded his eyes filling with tears.

“I’m staying, Charles.”

His eyes searched yours frantically trying to help you understand before he finally screamed,  “I can’t walk, y/n! I can’t even move!”

You froze in place terrified and overwhelmed with sadness; Charles had never yelled at you before and he had never looked so afraid.

“I won’t leave you Charles.”

The next few weeks were unbearable; Erik disappeared with Raven, Angel, Azazel, and Riptide, even breaking Frost out of prison to replace Charles -which had only further upset Charles-, inturn Charles erased Moira’s memory and sent her back to her boss before falling into a deep depression.He felt useless without his legs and often had loud unsanctioned outbursts. You tried to talk to him, to try to discuss what he was feeling, but he didn’t want to tell you. You knew he was embarrassed, he felt defiled and incompetent.

“Charles, this doesn’t change a thing. You are still the handsome, charming man I have always known. You are just as powerful now as you were then, just as smart, just as lovable.”

“I can’t protect you like this y/n! You deserve better! You deserve someone who can run with you and fight by your side and not have to wheel around!”

“I don’t want anyone better I want you!” Your voice shook as you glanced up at him tears already pouring from your eyes. “It’s always been you, I don’t want anyone else. Let me help you.”

His eyes softened as he watched you, “come here” he whispered his voice just above a whisper. You slowly approached him trying to brush away the tears pouring down your cheeks, before you knew it he had his arms wrapped around you again as he pulled you into his lap.

You smiled slowly beginning to sway as if the two of you were dancing, you began to sing just so the two of you could have some music, “When your legs don’t work like they used to before and I can’t sweep you off of your feet, will your mouth still remember the taste of my love? Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?” He chuckled lightly swatting at your shoulder.

“What too soon?” You laughed and he nodded.

“So, honey, now take me into your loving arms, kiss me under the light of a thousand stars, place your head on my beating heart. I’m thinking out loud….” Your voice trailed off as you looked into his eyes, some days you wished that you could read his mind because it had always been such a beautiful mystery to you. You began to lean forward, tilting your head as your lips brushed over his own. His eyes fluttered closed as one of his hands trailed up your back meeting the base of your neck, before slowly pressing his lips to yours.

“…We found love right where we are…” His voice echoed throughout your head.

Soldier (Luke smut)

Request: HELLO BABYBEAN IT IS I. SO YOU KNOW WHAT IM GONNA REQUEST BUT JUST TO BE CLEAR: I REQUEST A 1940’S STYLE ARMY!LUKE SMUT WHERE YOU FUCKS SENSELESS YOU INTO OBLIVION AND DON’T FORGET THE DOGTAGS AND UNIFROMS BECQUSE THAT FUCKS ME UP THAT SHIT IS IMPORTANT THANJ YOU BBY I LOVE YOU

Summary: ^^^

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: SEXXX

A/N: I tried to set it in the 1940s but I kind of failed so picture it whenever you want :-) (In case you don’t know, a dog tag is an identification tag that soldiers wear)

Originally posted by lipringsandsnapbacks

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As you wipe down the counter with a grotty cloth, you can feel his gaze fixed in your direction. You bite down on your bottom lip and concentrate on scrubbing at a difficult piece of dirt embedded on the wooden surface. Ever since he came in thirty minutes prior, he’s been watching you.

When you’d heard the bell ring, signalling the arrival of new customers, you’d been a little surprised; it was almost closing time. But as soon as you’d looked up you’d found your breath hitching in the back of your throat, your heart instantly speeding up. 

A man, probably around 20 years old, had walked in. His pristine uniform seemed to fit him perfectly and the musky shade contrasted perfectly against his sandy blond hair. Even though he was a few metres away you could easily see the deep, aqua blue of his widened eyes. 

You’d served him, taking careful note of his slender fingers and the loops of hair that curled around his ears, and begun to clean up for the night.

Now he’s the only customer left.

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Outside the Lens.

Hi! I wrote this on my old blog (minsugabooga) and it was a request. This is the edited ver. Enjoy! :)

- Hana

Request: Model who’s attracted to his photographer.

Focus: Jimin

Word Count: 2100+

Originally posted by suga-com

It was the little moments in between that set his heart on fire.

Park Jimin. He was someone who many recognised as another face on the latest released fashion magazine, showing off the latest trends and expensive clothing. However, he was also someone with a personality filled with light and sincerity, but he found it difficult to express due to his busy schedule. It was almost impossible to be himself. He had never imagined that his life would lead to a career surrounded by blinding lights, hassling makeup artists who were always trailing his every move, and strict fashion designers, who never seemed to give him a break.

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A Tenuous Thread, MMFD One-Shot

I got really inspired by this post and then it took on a bit of a life of its own. Aka Aiyana this is all your fault. 

Summary: Archie can see the gang is falling apart, and he’s doing whatever he can to hold them together. But if Finn keeps acting like a twat, and Rae keeps running to avoid her pain, will he be enough to stem the tide? Angsty internal monologuing with a dash of conversation porn. Enjoy all 4,000+ words of it.

tag list (ps tell me if you want to be on it): kneekeyta thisissomefreshbullshit rinncincin tinakegg endemictoearth thecrushingblack finleyquietkindspecialnelson curvygirlonabudget busstop luvs-jade ch1darkcy learningacceptanceme areyousad8118 lametwentysomething pingucaz42 darlingdiver mirandasmadeofstone jellytotsies how-ardently santafinnley mmfdfanfic raernundo lockitinthefuckingvault madfatty ducky17 jackiewalsh2013 magicalgrandma chicadificil …let me know if I forgot you or would like to be removed. 

The night at the pub was already off to a painfully awkward start. Sure, Izzy means well when she brings up Simmy and how he’s been saying mean things to me and pointedly looks to Chop, but it only serves to make things tense. Chop’s been a bit stand-offish since I laid my metaphorical bits out on the table. He’s one of my oldest and best mates, and even though he appears very laddish, I know deep down he’s very kind and accepting. I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that his discomfort with my newly declared sexuality wasn’t completely demoralizing. But I figure it’s got more to do with the lying I did over the years and less to do with him thinking I might have ever fancied him. So in the spirit of keeping the newly reunified gang together, I have resolved to be understanding and give him time to adjust.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less, though, when I hear him say Simmy was probably just joking after Rae asks him to say something. Seeing that he can so casually shrug off the relentless harassment I now receive on a daily basis from that soulless ginger wanker and his mates means I can’t quieten the cynical voice that sounds in the back of my head before it moans about how he’d rather choose to be a spineless coward instead of a good mate. I swiftly push the thought aside though, because I can’t allow myself to think about how disappointed I am in him, not now. I’m being understanding, right? Because I know deep down he’ll be solid when it counts. I won’t think about how that soulless ginger wanker and his lot used to be my mates too, and how college is a lot more solitary since coming out… because I’ve got the gang. We nearly ripped apart at the seams when Rae and Finn broke up. But we’ve mended things now and I know they’ll keep me together. 

I say it’s fine so we’ll move on and just talk about happy things like how much a laugh Chloe’s birthday party was and how cracking the fun fair will be tomorrow. But then in walks Finn with Olivia on his arm and the air goes from being a bit heavy with tension to electrically charged. I can feel it prickling against my skin. What the fuck is he thinking bringing her here? Did he not hear when Rae mentioned she was coming out tonight? Has he not seen her sat right beside me? I can sense Rae tensing up next to me and I turn to her, quietly asking if she’s alright. She turns back to look at me, tutting as she shrugs her shoulders, doing the best she can to look casual when she answers affirmatively. But I know the real answer even if she won’t say it aloud.

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McKirk Supernatural!AU

Based on this.  ❤️ ✨ For @conduitstr

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3:

  • It’s been two weeks since Jim Kirk has been raised back from the dead. Two weeks since he woke up in a coffin six feet under, and he nearly suffocated climbing his way back out. It’s a new start, and although Jim doesn’t think of himself as deserving of that – he does think this is a chance for a new start. One where he doesn’t need to be a hunter. One where he can just be a bartender or a mechanic, or both. One where, eventually, he can close his eyes without seeing the horrors of Hell repeatedly until sunrise.
  • But he’s not that lucky. Not for long, anyway. Because two weeks in, he’s doing fine in a quiet, small town bar that’s mostly home to local farmers and the occasional passersby. So when a group of five strange men walk in, Jim knows something’s not quite right. Maybe it’s hunter’s instinct, maybe it’s the way they stare at him. One of the men walks up to the bar, and Jim throws him a charming smile, trying not to appear too suspicious. “What’s the matter?” The man asks, “don’t you recognize me in this meat suit, or have you already forgotten our wonderful time together down in the Pit?” He eyes turn black as he speaks. Jim acts quickly, throwing the contents of a bottle with holy water in the guy’s face. Good thing he always kept one on the bar, just in case. It’s only a temporary distraction, though, because pretty quickly the demon grabs his collar and drags him over the bar.
  • It’s not a pretty fight. Jim is pretty rusty after being dead for four months, and then alive again for only two. He’s not sure if the blood he’s tasting on his lips are his own or not, because he deals a few strong punches when he can, but ultimately, he’s overpowered and he knows it. Though the fight comes to an abrupt end when the doors to his bar open and another man walks in. “Get out of here,” Jim warns the newcomer, “quick, before they-” but the man doesn’t listen. He steps closer instead, and he fights those demons by just – touching them. It’s enough to make the demons disappear, and the previously possessed bodies crumple to the ground. Jim scrambles back up on his feet until he’s backed up against the bar, and then his arm moves behind him to try and find more holy water. When he does, the man doesn’t respond to it at all. He reaches out, touching Jim’s cheek. Jim suspects that’s the end of him, then, but instead a pleasant warmth spreads through his body, and the thumbing pain in his face ceases to be. “Who are you?” Jim demands, finding his strength, somehow, because he sure as hell isn’t going to show he’s intimidated by this guy. “My name is Leonard,” he replies, “I’m an angel of the Lord.”
  • Jim has seen enough of Hell, and the cruelty on earth, not to believe in Angels or the “lord” anymore. Yet here’s this man, standing in front of him, telling Jim there’s a reason he’s back from the dead. That he’s destined to more than a life rotting away in Hell. Jim buys none of it. “Listen,” he says, “I got out of Hell, where I was forced to follow orders. I’m not going to sit here and wait so that a pretty lil angel can force me to do the same. I’m done following orders.” “You have no choice in this matter,” Leonard says. “I think I do. Now, leave. I have a mess to clean up.” “I am the one who saved your ass from Hell,” Leonard says through gritted teeth. “I didn’t ask for you to do that, so don’t expect me to get on my knees and thank you for it.” Jim replies. Leonard steps in closer, way in his personal space, and somehow towers over him despite not really being taller than him at all. “I brought you back from Hell, and I can just as easily throw you back in. You better show me some respect.” Jim takes a deep breath, hands on the other man’s chest, and he pushes him backwards. Just a little. “You get your respect when you deserve it,” he says, walking past him to clean up. “Now go play your harp somewhere.” “If I had a harp right now, you’d feel it,” Leonard mutters, loud enough for Jim to hear.
  • His life as a bartender is over from that moment on, though. Because a case nearby reaches him. People hiking in the woods have been disappearing, and he overhears a guy talking about venturing through those same woods to find them again. So he opts to join, because he’s ‘an expert’ in hiking. Turns out it’s a fucking wendigo, and though Jim has plenty of hunting supplies with him; a flamethrower isn’t exactly one of those things. Still, during the day, he sneaks in and releases the bindings of the few people still alive. “Hey, are you okay?” Jim asks quietly. “Can you walk? Then slowly make your way out, okay? Wendigo have very bad sight, so remain completely still when he’s near.” He explains quietly, a hand ready on his weapon. It’s not that it’ll do anything against a wendigo, but it just feels better. Pretty quickly, the wendigo catches him. A claw closes around his throat and he’s shoved against a wall. He manages to kick it before its teeth can rip him apart, but that’s not really going to work for very long. The wendigo is dragged backwards by a surprising force, and it’s Leonard who throws down a bottle on the floor right in front of the Wendigo’s feet. Within seconds, it bursts into flames. “Jim,” Leonard says, pulling him back on his feet and wiping the dust off his clothes. “What are you doing here?” Jim asks, “I had everything under control.” He adds, and receives a frown from the angel. “No, you didn’t.”
  • Come morning, Leonard is still there. A week later, he’s still there. “Why aren’t you going back to the clouds, huh?” Jim asks him, because really, Leonard is just constantly following him around. “I can’t go back to heaven,” Leonard replies. “Why not?” “That’s classified,” Leonard says, and Jim sighs. “Of course it is.” He says, grabbing his jacket and swinging it over his shoulder. “You coming?” “Where to?” “The bar.”
  • Jim pours both of them a strong drink, and Leonard tosses his own glass back in just a second. “Easy there,” Jim says, “you don’t want to get drunk. Or do you? Because I think I’d enjoy seeing you drunk.” “I’ve never been drunk, but my vessel has.” Leonard says, and Jim catches just a brief glimpse of a faint smile on the angel’s lips. Seeing those otherwise stern features softened, Leonard is really more handsome than he realizes. “Care to tell me why you’re not back in heaven? And you’ve not been there for at least a week now.” Jim presses carefully, and that soft expression immediately turns more stern again. Damn. “I can’t go back to Heaven.” “Why not?” Jim asks, and Leonard looks uncomfortable talking about it. Leonard sighs, running his fingers through his hair and he just looks almost human now. “I have been banned for rebelling.” “Rebelling?” “Getting you out of Hell was not my objective,” Leonard admits, and Jim frowns. “You said I was destined for greater things?” “Those demons… they would have turned you into one. A powerful one. I know you haven’t said it, but I know you remember torturing those souls.” Leonard says and Jim shifts uncomfortably. “I want you to know it is not your fault, Jim.” Leonard says, accepting Jim’s newly filled glass. “I know you were forced to do so.” “Stop,” Jim says, “What’s your point?” “I was sent down to kill you,” Leonard finally explains and Jim shifts uncomfortably. “But you didn’t.” “No. I couldn’t,” Leonard says. “I gave you a second chance.” “I never asked for one,” Jim replies, “and now you’re banned from heaven. Where are you going to go?” Leonard shrugs, and Jim sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already regretting his own thoughts before speaking them. “Why don’t you stay with me for a while? We’ll hunt together.” He suggests, and Leonard stares at Jim for a few seconds too long to be comfortable. “Fine.”
The Blob

For sflor018, one of the winners of my 1500 followers giveaway. The prompt was “So, I’ve been thinking about it what I would like, and I’ve narrowed it down to a DeanCas fic, featuring Sam, and it doesn’t necessarily need to be romantic at all. For the prompt, I really love germaphobe Dean." 

~3k, Teen, some mild horror (AO3)

Thanks messier51 for betaing! The other giveaway ficlet can be found here!

Dean isn’t surprised at all that the Men of Letters died out. They had detailed files on every creature they encountered, every spell any of their members learned, and every god-forsaken hokey ritual they used. They had list after list of artifacts and cursed objects, but none of that is what brought Dean to the dusty and dank artifact storage room. 

There are three dead bodies in Iowa, all missing their bones, and Sam found what he seems to think is a lead scrawled in the corner of some official-looking form tucked into a file about a similar case. The file talks about a three-hundred year-old idol that then Men of Letters stashed away, but Dean has no idea how a half-legible set of instructions is supposed to be anything more than a wild goose chase. Of course the instructions for finding this idol weren’t written down in any existing filing system, but Sam thinks the scribbles map out quasi-directions for finding the damn thing.

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