and who told him to grow the beard for the part

Golden Boy

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2165

Warnings: Smut - NSFW

Summary: After playfully sending suggestive pictures to Chris right before he presents at the Oscars you realize that you are in for the night of your life.

Author’s Notes: This wasn’t planned. I had no idea Chris was going to wear a velvet bowtie to the Oscars. I’m basically CEvans Trash. I literally just wrote this – instead of watching the freaking Oscars – so if there are any ridiculous grammar errors – please forgive me… I am tired and hormonal. This is probably trash, ha!

I tagged those of you that liked my initial post asking about this (along with some others). Soo yeah…..

Originally posted by sensualkisses

You hummed to yourself absentmindedly as you applied the rest of your makeup. Chris had promised his mom that he would take her to the Oscars this year, and you had agreed that it was a good idea. After the show was over you were to meet up with him to go to the after parties – which, let’s face it, were always the best part of the night. As you rapped your knuckles lightly on the bathroom countertop your phone dinged – alerting you to an incoming message. You reached for it as you finished putting on your lipstick. Of course it was from Chris.

“Miss you beautiful. Can’t wait to show you off to everyone.” You couldn’t help but smile at this. Of course he would send you something sweet. He had panicked that you would be upset about not going with him to the show, but you had assured him over and over that it was fine.

You had watched him get ready earlier that afternoon – the sight of him in his fitted suit and velvet tie had left your panties soaked. While you had secretly hoped for a quickie before he left for the show you had reasoned with yourself that there wasn’t time. Even the thought of the way he looked caused the tingling between your legs to start again. You checked the time on your cellphone before smiling. If the show was running on time Chris would be presenting within the next five minutes – you turned towards the television playing in the hotel bedroom for confirmation that the scheduling had not gone askew. It hadn’t and you couldn’t help but think how perfect the timing was. You were still only wearing your lingerie – not willing to wear your beautiful dress in fear of getting makeup on it. You positioned your hand over your panties, suggestively touching yourself, and formed a pout before snapping a picture.

“Wishing you could give me a hand.” You texted as you sent the picture. You could tell by your notifications that he had immediately seen it and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you sat your phone down and finished getting ready.

“Jesus Christ,” Chris muttered to himself as he opened your text.

“Everything okay?” Someone beside him asked.

“Oh yeah… yeah,” he nervously blundered as he secured his phone safely back into his pocket. He was due to go on national television any minute, and was now also secretly praying that he could quell his body’s response to your text long enough to present. He chuckled nervously to himself. He knew you had done it on purpose. He had told you when his presentation was, and who it was after so you wouldn’t miss it. “I swear to god, Y/N. You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Mr. Evans are you sure you’re okay?” A stagehand asked nervously.

“Never been better!” He announced a little too enthusiastically. Causing his co-presenter to jump beside me.

“Great… you are on in five….four…”

That was fine – he thought to himself – two could certainly play this game and payback was going to be a bitch.

You were nervous. After your text you had never received a response from Chris, but you were sure that he had saw it. Initially you had laughed during his presentation. He seemed maybe just a little flustered – most people wouldn’t have noticed, but most people hadn’t taken him to bed before either. As you exited the limousine you looked around nervously – nearly jumping out of your skin when a warm arm wrapped itself around your waist.

“Hey Babe,” he whispered into your ear – giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You looked up at him and he graced you with one his dazzling smiles. It was only when you really looked into his eyes that you realized he had definitely seen the picture, had certainly reacted to it, and the game was totally on. You swallowed hard – trying to bottle up your excitement as he smirked at you while you walked towards the entrance of the venue. “Just for the record,” he whispered – his beard tickling your ear – “I had to masturbate in the bathroom during the Academy Awards, because of you.” He gave your ass a quick slap which caused you to straighten up in surprise. You couldn’t help but smirk back at him – this was certainly going to be a night to remember.

“Sebby!” Chris shouted as he waived Sebastian over to your table. Sebastian said his hellos before taking a seat between Jeremy and Chris.

“What was up with you tonight?” Sebastian asked with a smirk. His eyes seemed to twinkle with humor as he offered you a wink.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked as he tried his hardest to keep a straight face – failing miserably.

“You seemed a little flustered is all,” Sebastian shrugged as he laughed. “Can’t imagine what would cause Chris to lose his cool,” he added to which Jeremy chuckled.

“I was a little distracted by something,” Chris added seriously as he turned his gaze to you. You knew the more his friends joked the more you were going to pay once you were alone with him.

You smiled shyly as you brought a glass of wine to your lips. “I guess you need to work on that babe,” you shrugged before turning your attention back to your conversation with Jeremy’s wife.

The following hours seemed uneventful – at least where Chris’s revenge was concerned. You gushed over celebrities like Emma Stone, as he politely introduced you – never taking his eyes off of you as you interacted with his friends. Everyone continued to drink – the alcohol seemed endless. Each time a bottle was finished at least two more arrived to replace it.

“Everyone should be dancing!” Sebastian declared as he rose from his chair.

“Oh come on man,” Chris muttered as he shook his head. His face was tinged pink from the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “I don’t know if I can even stand right now,” he laughed.

“Y/N?” Sebastian asked as he offered you his hand. You took it willingly looking over his shoulder to see Chris’s reaction. He was watching you like a hawk – good.

You left the table with Sebastian hand-in-hand. Out of all of Chris’s friends you liked Sebastian the best – probably because you had known him before you had ever met Chris. “You are going to have hell to pay,” Seb laughed as you danced against him.

“A girl can only hope,” you laughed as you smirked in Chris’s direction. He was already rising from his chair – his eyes trained only on you and his best friend.

“That didn’t take long,” Sebastian laughed as Chis meandered his way through the crowd. As he neared Sebastian shouted, “She’s all yours,” before laughing and walking back to the table where everyone else had stayed.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Chris muttered into your ear as he pulled you roughly into him. He placed his hands on your hips –guiding them to grind into him as you felt his growing erection. “You kill me,” he muttered breathlessly against your neck. You could feel the wetness between your legs grow as he continued to harden against your contact. The feeling caused you to let out a soft moan. “Oh do you like that,” he whispered seductively into your ear.

“Yes,” you responded breathlessly. “Chris, I…” but he cut you off.

“Follow me,” he demanded as he took your hand, guiding you towards one of the many private bathrooms. Being a celebrity had its perks – at least you had a room to yourself.

You sighed as Chris looked the bathroom door behind him. You were ready. Ready for him to ravage every part of your body.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled as he pushed you gently onto the couch – you never quite understood the need for couches in bathrooms, but for once you were glad to have one. You pouted quietly as Steve took you in. “Now listen here baby girl – you’ve been torturing me all night. Sending me that naughty picture of you and grinding yourself up against my best friend. Now it’s my turn,” he muttered softly as he slowly removed his tie. “Give me your hands,” he commanded. You obeyed giving him your hands. He took them in his hands and tied the velvet material around them securely. He spun you on the couch – making you lay on it fully before raising your hands above your head. “These better not move, do you understand me?” He asked. You nodded as you whimpered your assent. You would do whatever he said if he would help the aching feeling between your legs.

He smirked as he worked your dress up to your waist – admiring a portion of the lingerie he had seen earlier in the picture. He slowly planted kisses up your leg causing you to squirm uncontrollably. More than anything you wanted to twist your fingers through his hair and you soon found your hands moving from their position. “What did I say?” he asked calmly as you placed your hands back above your head. “Good girl,” he hummed – kissing your wet core through your panties. “I think we can get rid of these,” he murmured against your skin as he worked your panties off. He gently circled his thumb around your sensitive clit causing you to buck your hips. “Mmm, my naughty girl. You’re so wet,” he remarked as he slid a finger inside of you causing you to moan out his name. “That’s right baby, you’re mine,” he said fiercely as he added another finger – pumping them in and out of you as you squirmed with pleasure. You could feel your walls tightening at his touch and your moans became louder. You didn’t care who heard you. “Not yet baby,” he whispered as he removed his fingers.

“What?” Your head snapped forward at this. He couldn’t just get you close and then stop. “Chris,” you whined as you tried to sit up. He pushed you back gently with a smile before moving his face between your legs. He smirked up at you before burying his face into you. As he lapped at your wetness you moaned his name louder causing him to suck on your sensitive clit. As you bucked your hips he slid a finger into you. His mouth and fingers were too much – causing you to cum all over his face. He lapped away your orgasm – causing more moans to fall from your mouth – before he broke away with a smirk. His beard was glistening with the remnants of your pleasure which immediately made you ready for round two.

“Stand up,” he demanded as he stood and offered you his hand. You placed your bound ones in his and he helped you to your feet. “I want you to bend over the sink,” he explained as he motioned over to the sink. You did as he commanded – your bound wrists stinging softly as the velvet bit into your soft flesh. You watched in the mirror as he removed himself from his pants – stroking himself a few times before approaching you from behind. He lifted your dress to your waist again before nudging your legs apart with his own. As he slid into you fully you groaned. He began to thrust into you as he held on to your hips tightly. “God – you are so tight,” he exclaimed as his thrusts began to become more disjointed. You groaned as your body reacted to his thrusts – you could feel your walls tightening again with the promise of a glorious orgasm. When he began palming your sensitive clit you came undone around him – your orgasm spurring his own. He stiffened as he filled you with himself. He sighed softly into your hair as he kissed the back of your neck affectionately before removing himself.

“So that’s what happens when I send you nudes when you’re at the Oscars?” you asked with a laugh as you sat shakily on the couch.

“I guess so,” he chuckled as he plopped down beside you – wrapping his arm around you and bringing your head to his shoulder.

“Well I guess I should do that more often,” you shrugged as you both laughed.

“Oh hell,” Chris sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What is it?” you asked alarmed.

“Seb and I had a bet on who would have sex at an Oscars’ after party years ago. I never thought it would be me so I’ve given him hell for years about it,” he grimaced.

“Well I guess it’s time to pay up,” you chuckled as you both rose from the couch.

“It was worth every last fucking penny,” Chris responded as he pulled you into him – planting a soft kiss on your lips.

Tags: (I tagged those of you that liked my initial post asking about this along with a few others)

@writingblockswriters @kendallefire @marvelouslyloki @seargantbcky @sapphire1727 @dont-let-me-go-again @amrita31199 @kittthekat @3brosangel @yknott81 @samanthaneedsanap @dreamer1495 @frolicsomefawkes @totallygroovyllama @caffeineandlaserbeams @sebbys-girl @bless-my-demons @moonofhisheart @giggles2107 @summerbummer2001 @ninjayjumper @vidishajain @fan-guirl @ily-celebrities @harleyqueen7

Daddy’s Little Girl

Title: Daddy’s Little Girl

Characters: Negan x You/Reader

Synopsis: You used to be a nude cam model. Negan was your favorite customer. What are the chances that you’d see him again now that the dead’s taken over the world?

Warnings: NSFW, smut, daddy kink lol

Note: This got me back on track yay. Not sure if there will be a part 2 to this…yay or nay? ;)

Again, italicized parts are flashbacks.

You clicked your tongue in irritation when your captor started pushing you into the premises of the compound you’ve been spying on. He snickered at you when you glowered at him, “Got a problem, sugar?” he sneered as he shoved you forward again.

“You tied my hands but not my feet. Point is, I can walk on my own. No need to keep on pushing me.” You hissed and started walking ahead of him only to be pulled back.

“Nice try, bitch.” He mocked and placed a hand on your upper back to push you again.

Keep reading

Queer Eye for the “Straight” Guy

FINALLY, six months after I was commissioned, this thing is done.

I’m truly sorry to my donation winner, Cindy. Lord knows you never asked to put up with my procrastinating ass.

But I’m truly happy with how this turned out! And I hope you, Cindy, and the rest of y'all are too! This work is a part of the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Check out some other cool works and support these charities this movement helps!

(Read on AO3)

Never had Castiel been checked out with such scrutiny.

The man walked around him, eyes slowly dragging over his body, just on this side of appreciative. They were green and critical under contemplative eyebrows, pushed together to form a crease in the middle that Castiel kind of wanted to poke. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest, his thumb playing with his lower lip as he circled.

Castiel just stood, arms loose at his sides, posture normal which was to say terrible. He watched the man watching him.

“Well,” the man said, facing Castiel but also kind of facing the large camera he’d brought with him. “The suit is awful but we can work with it. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of the trench coat?”

Castiel shook his head, his mouth grim.

The man sighed. “Well, I’ll figure something out.”

He then explained to Castiel some of what he was going to be doing. Usually the exposition would take place among the five men who hosted, but Castiel understood this was a special case. The usual five men to do the job was now one.

“Hi, and welcome to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy : celebrity edition. Where instead of the Fab Five, who are all experts in their fields, you have me, Dean Winchester, a bisexual hockey player who is slightly above average at these things.”

Castiel was, in this scenario, ‘the straight guy.’ He supposed that description fit simply by process of elimination. He knew he wasn’t gay because he did not wish to have sex with men. He didn’t particularly want to have sex with women but he liked them well enough: enjoyed the softness of their lips when they’d kissed him and liked their smell and general company.

So yes, Castiel could be the straight guy.

Although Dean Winchester’s shoulders looked very nice…

“Today’s victim is Castiel Novak: world renowned entymologist specializing in honey bees. His latest research publication is receiving all kinds of awards so he’s going to have a little celebration tonight. That’s where I’m here to help.”

“Okay, Cas, it may only be me, but I’ve still got some hired guns to help me move shit – er – junk around your apartment.” Dean turned to a woman wearing headphones. “Do I have to say that again?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “If you would, please.”

Dean sighed and repeated himself, this time leaving out the swear word.

This was all far too much production for Castiel. He preferred quiet libraries or the gentle hum of apiaries to the clapboards and shouted instructions of a television set.

“A necessary evil “his agent had called it. “ How do you expect to get more funding, Castiel, if no one cares about your research?”

Castiel had thought this quite unfair and demonstratively untrue. Plenty of people cared about his research! Students and… kindergarten teachers…

Castiel supposed those groups didn’t pay very much. He may have seen Meg’s point.

He didn’t know why that meant he had to be involved with a reality show, though. He glowered at the camera.

Dean smiled at him, unaffected. “I have given the crew my instructions so now I can whisk you away for a fun makeover montage.”

Castiel turned his glower on Dean.

He winked. “Yes, you’re very scary. Let’s go.”

Keep reading

SO I WROTE THE ANGST (which u can find here if u want) AND. DIED A LITTLE BIT INSIDE. But,,, it’s his birthday,,, I can’t just write angst,,, so… *throws fluff in your face*

“Morning, beautiful,”

Tony squinted, rolling a little further into the warm embrace that he knew was Steve’s arms and groaning softly. “No. Too early. Call back in an hour.”

Steve laughed, lips brushing softly over Tony’s hair. “It’s 11. I’ve been lying in for 3 hours, now.”

Tony smiled, kissing Steve’s chest as he did so. “Have you just been lying there watching me this whole time? Pervert,”

“Guilty,” was all Steve said, before rolling himself on top of Tony, elbows resting against the bed to stop his weight from crushing into Tony’s arc reactor. He leaned down a little, kissing Tony’s nose. “Happy birthday, darling,”

Tony paused, brow furrowing for a moment before it dawned on him. “You remembered my birthday?”

Steve shot him a look, part frown, part fond exasperation as he kissed Tony again. “We go through this every year, babe. Yes, I remembered your birthday. I’m slightly offended that you thought I wouldn’t, to be honest.”

Tony shrugged, pouting a little as he arched up into Steve’s touch, hands wrapping around his neck and mouth finding Steve’s. “Does this mean,” he whispered in between kisses, “crazy morning s-”

“Nope,” Steve interrupted, pushing Tony’s hips back on to the bed before rolling off him, grinning cheekily, because he was a motherfucking tease, “There’s food cooking- and the team said they’re waiting for us downstairs.”

Tony groaned, sprawling out on the sheets ad smushing his face further into the pillows. “But it’s my birthday-”

“And the team are going to come barging up here with pitchforks unless we hurry up,” Steve interrupted, throwing on a shirt and smiling as he crossed the room and jumped back on the bed, crawling over to Tony and covering his face with kisses, despite the man’s giggling protests.

“Steve, stop it, I thought we needed to h-h-hurry!” Tony wheezed, as Steve dug into his ribs and tickled, mouth moving across Tony’s face and strategically, covering every area he could find.

Steve paused, nipping Tony’s ear lightly before sitting up and sitting on his knees, still beaming. “Correct. Let’s go, Stark, get a move on, we don’t have all day- you’ve already spent half of it asleep.”

Tony groaned again, but allowed Steve to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him up. He took the opportunity to slide his arms around Steve’s shoulders again, mouth on the other man’s neck. “Are you very sure we can’t just-”

“I’m not going to let you tempt me, Tony,” Steve said, biting his lip and unwrapping Tony from his neck. It looked like he was having a tough time believing his own words, but he kept firm, yanking them both up into standing and then maneuvering Tony until he was facing the direction of his wardrobe. “We will definitely be coming back to that later, though.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tony said, pulling out some comfy clothes from the bottom of his wardrobe and throwing them on. “By the way you’re talking, I’m guessing you’ve got plans for me.”

Steve nodded, watching Tony dress. “Yep.”

“Care to give me a hint?”


“As long as it doesn’t involve excessive amounts of peril, I’m good. Medium amounts of peril are fine, though. Also no nudity on Clint’s part.”

Steve paused, but altogether he didn’t seem that shocked by Tony’s wishes, which said something about their lives, really. “I told Clint explicitly that no clothes were to be removed, don’t worry. As for the peril, I’m pretty sure there will be none. Although, you know, I can’t exactly promise that.”

Tony just shrugged, walking over to where Steve was sat on the bed and slotting himself between his knees. “Eh, that was pushing it anyway.”

Steve laughed, taking Tony’s hands and kissing the palms, before wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him in, pressing his face to Tony’s stomach. “Happy birthday,” he said again.

Tony stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair, shutting his eyes and letting the sound of Steve’s breathing take over. 

Well. For about three seconds, anyway. After that, their moment of peace was rudely interrupted by four other people as they kicked the door open and piled in.

Tony sighed as he was rounded on and pulled away from Steve, who was just sitting there with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eye. The team had a very thorough hold on him, so there wasn’t much point in trying to fight them off. He just let them haul him up and carry him down the stairs, while Steve laughed and trailed along behind him.

“Which one of you creeps is feeling my ass?” He yelled.

“Apologies, Tony, there is no other space to hold,” Thor said, giving him a look that meant there were plenty of other spaces to hold, he was just a little shit.

Once they’d kidnapped him, it didn’t take long for all of them to end up in the communal kitchen, dropping Tony gently on the table and then pressing a mug of coffee immediately into his hands.

“Thanks Brucie,” he said, because it was only Bruce who knew how to make coffee just right- everyone else had yet to learn the art.

“Right! When do we get to do presents?” Clint asked the room, clapping his hands and then slow-motion punching Tony in the face, because he was a five-year-old.

“No time like the present,” Natasha shrugged, and then paused, eyes widening a little. “That… that was not a pun. If any of you mention that ever again I’ll break your fingers.”

Tony laughed, and Natasha saw, but she just rolled her eyes and smiled a little, squeezing his arm. “We had a long think about what to get you this year- it was kinda difficult, as always, to buy anything for you, considering the fact you are a billionaire and can therefore buy anything you so desire.”

“So we were like- what do you do for a guy who has everything?” Clint cut in theatrically, before whipping an envelope out of his pocket and grinning. “Why, you do him favors, of course.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, as he took the envelope from Clint’s hands. “This better not implode upon opening-”

“I can vouch for Clint, don’t worry,” Steve said, leaning on the counter opposite Tony and smiling. “No explosions.”

Tony nodded, and ripped open the envelope. Inside, there were three strips of paper, with hand-written sentences in the middle of them. He furrowed his brow curiously as he removed them, reading them quickly.

5 free passes to the TV, even when I’m watching it, because it seems 80% of all our fights stem from arguments over who wants what.

1 team-up against Natasha. Only one. She’s scary and will kill us both if we do it any more than that.

5 ‘leave me the fuck alone’ opportunities. You invoke this slip and say those words, and I’m gone, no questions asked.

Tony looked up, confused. “What the hell does this mean?”

“It means,” Clint rolled his eyes and hopped on the table next to Tony, “that these are favors you can ask- no arguments allowed- of me, contractually signed and agreed upon. Only for the amount of times it says on the slip, though, I’m not that easy.”

Tony stared at them for another few seconds, before a smile broke out on his face, and he looked at Clint, eyes sparkling. “Thank you. I’m going to savor the fuck out of these for years, you know. Save them for special occasions. Or maybe I’ll do them all at once, and make you my slave for the day.”

Clint frowned, but Tony pulled him into a hug and then let go, turning to Natasha as she held out an envelope of her own. “Wait- you’ve all done this?”

“Yes. Decided to switch things up for a change, you know?” She explained, shoving her present into his hands and then turning away to grab some food. Tony knew she didn’t like her kindness being acknowledged, but when Tony read her slips, he jumped off the table and pulled her into a tight hug anyway, which she luckily returned.

One by one, he received all the favors off each teammate- from ‘will let you ride on the Great Stallion of Asgard through the meadows of Gold’ from Thor to ‘I’ll get you coffee whenever you ask for a whole month’ from Bruce.

It was perfect and thoughtful and by the time he got around to Steve’s envelope, he was already feeling pretty emotional.

Smiling, he opened the letter and pulled out its contents. There were three slips, the same as everyone else, and Steve had bordered them with little cartoon drawings of the whole team. It looked adorable,,and Tony grinned up at Steve, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down for a kiss before he continued.

The whole team were positively beaming, and everyone seemed to have forgotten how to stand still- even Steve was fiddling with his hands as Tony read through the first note.

I’ll grow a beard on three different occasions for a month- I know how much you want to see it on me.

Tony laughed, imagining clean-cut, lovely Steve with a scruffy lumberjack beard. “Yeah, I’m using the first one right now. No shaving for a month, baby.”

Steve laughed nervously as Tony continued.

You can order to me get to bed if I’m in a shitty mood and still working at the gym. 10 times, non-negotiable on my side.

Tony smiled softly, nodding his head. “That sure will come in useful. Thank you, Steve.”

At this point, the entire room was pretty much vibrating on the spot, and Tony was a little nervous as to what the last one was going to be. He looked at Steve curiously, eyebrow raised, and Steve just nodded at the last slip, biting his lip.

Curious and a little excited, Tony read through the last line.

This one isn’t so much doing a favor for you as it is me, but- you’d make the happiest man in the galaxy if you would let me have the honor of spending the rest of my life with you, as your husband. If you’ll have me. Unlimited offer.

Tony stared at the words for a long time. When he looked up, Steve was on one knee, and there was a ring held between his fingers.

He raised an eyebrow, scarlet in the face. His hand was shaking a little, but there was the same determined look in his eyes that he kept for battles.

Like Tony agreeing was ever going to be a battle.

“Oh my god. Yes. Holy shit, yes, Steve.”

The room erupted in yells and cheers, and Steve’s eyes widened in shock as Tony jumped off the table and slid down until he was able to throw himself at Steve, burying his face in the other mans shoulder and gripping the fabric of his shirt so tight his knuckles were white. “Yes, yes, yes, holy shit, I love you Steve, yes-”

Steve kissed him, cutting off the ramble, but they had to stop when both of them began laughing uncontrollably. Steve looked down at Tony, wiping the tear tracks off his cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down and kissing him again. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And I’m going to be the best husband you could ever hope for, Tony Stark. I promise.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment it seemed Thor lost patience and tackled them both to the floor, hugging them tight enough to bruise. Not that Tony gave a damn, mind.

He was marrying Steve. 

“Group hug!” The God yelled, and Steve was laughing, tears still in his eyes as he rolled Tony into his arms and leaned over him, making sure he wasn’t crushed as four other superheroes launched themselves on top of them, whooping and yelling and (In Clint’s case, anyway) removing their shirts to swing them like lassos.

Tony felt like he was dreaming. Like he was floating on a level of euphoria that anyone else had yet to reach.

He was marrying Steve.

“Clint, what did we say about keeping our clothes on?” Someone groaned, and Tony could feel the vibrations of Steve laughing on top of him, his face crinkled and smiling from ear to ear.

He was marrying Steve.

“Happy fucking birthday,” He said to himself, stealing a kiss before the whole pile rolled and fell down the set of stairs that lead to the living room.

anonymous asked:

Can I please request either a Newt/reader imagine or HC of Newt introducing his fiance to Theseus?

Yes! Yes to everything with Theseus!! So, I know we don’t know much of him yet. Aside from the war hero, so I’m going with what I feel his brother would be like. Also, my vote for his looks goes to Tom Hardy because he daddy.


Originally posted by kinghardy

Imagine: Newt introducing you to his brother, Theseus.

It was these moments that truly tested your bravery, these moments where you felt your heart going nuts in your chest and your hands growing clammy. But, anything to make Newt Scamander happy, you told yourself. He was your boyfriend after all, and if meeting a member of his family meant making him smile then you’d do it.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Newt brushed a strand of hair from your face, giving you his charming smile and kissing you softly on the lips. He could tell you were nervous, but you had nothing to worry for. He loved you, and as protective as his older brother could be, he knew Theseus would grow to love you as well.

“Y-Yes…sorry, I’m just…are you sure he’s going to like me?”

Newt chuckled at you, bringing you into his warm embrace. “Why wouldn’t he? You’re perfect, my love.”

His words, though sweet, didn’t settle your nerves. Theseus was a war hero, a well known and highly loved wizard. And his younger brother was now a respected magizoologist. How could you possibly become part of this family?

Newt slid his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together as he led you inside the small cafe. They had both agreed to meet over tea, to which Newt had promised you’d come along. The sound of people chatting and laughing filled the quaint place, only easing your discomfort a little. You walked with Newt towards a corner booth, breath stopping when you saw a tall man, strong of build, and very stern expression, sitting against the window. He had a cup of tea already before him, and he rubbed his beard in thought while he gazed outside at the people walking about.


Newt spoke up, offering his kin a smile as he stood before the booth. Theseus Scamander glanced up, his lips stretching into a grin as he stood. “You seem well, brother. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. You’ve grown.”

Newt let go of your hand, giving his brother an awkward, yet loving hug. “Yes, it has.”

You shuffled nervously next to them both, gulping down the lump you felt growing in your throat. Theseus let go of Newt, his gaze now turning to you. He looked you up and down, as if he was assessing the very woman that managed to steal his younger brother’s heart.

“You must be, Y/N.”

You blushed when he stared intently at you, and you nodded furiously as you extended your hand. “Yes! Um…its a pleasure to meet you. Newt speaks very highly of you.”

Theseus smiled, grabbing your hand and turning it over as he kissed the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting this highly praised man to be so…gentlemanly. Yet, the Scamander men must all be so charming.

Newt took a seat in the booth, sliding over as he allowed you to sit next to him. Theseus took his seat again, stirring his tea as he took a sip.

“When my brother sent me a letter speaking of you, I admit I was concerned. He was never one for romance…”

Newt seemed uncomfortable with the topic change, but he just grabbed your hand under the table and gave it a slight squeeze.

“I always imagined he’d stay alone forever, holed up in that case of his.”


Theseus chuckled at his younger brother’s embarrassment, but he continued none the less.

“He’s not very keen on the company of other wizards or witches. I must admit…”

He leaned forward, clasping his hands together as he stared straight at you. “You’re very beautiful.”

Your cheeks lit up a thousand shades of red, and Newt frowned at his older brother for flirting.

“Theseus…” He warned, clearly not amused by the older man’s joking nature.

Theseus just sat back again, laughing at the way Newt became protective of you. He always loved teasing his brother, Newt was never one to fall for the bait when it came to others but with Theseus he always did.

“I’m simply amazed that you managed to find such a lovely woman, Newt. Not every woman is willing to put up with a man who cares for magical creatures in these times.”

You smiled shyly, looking at your boyfriend as he glared at his brother. They seemed to have such a lovely dynamic, and for some reason you began to feel more at ease around Theseus.

“Be good to her, brother. Or I may have to sweep her off her feet instead.”



Now…I have a crush on Theseus wtf.

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 5

Here’s the next chapter! I’m honestly so in love with this AU and I have no idea where it’s going. Massive thank you to @diversemediums for letting me steal her brain vomit and helping me bounce ideas. As always, let me know what you think of the chapter!

Catch up on the previous part HERE

With a great struggle, Claire got her eyes open and looked around. She wasn’t home and she wasn’t at Frank’s. So where the hell was she? How long had she been asleep? Rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, she pushed herself up.

After shaking her head, everything came back to her. She’d returned to Jamie Fraser’s house only to find him stabbed and bleeding in his panic room. But she couldn’t remember falling asleep, or how she’d-

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Yelping, she leapt away from the direction of the voice and promptly fell over the side of the bed. Struggling to her feet, she whirled around and looked at Jamie who sat in a chair, eyes wide.

“What the hell?!”

“Sorry, Sassenach! Didna mean to frighten ye. Ye’ve been asleep for a while.”

“Damn it! Where’s Murtagh? I need to check his head wound. And you. How’s your stab wound? And your head? Shoulder? Ribs?”

Jamie smiled at her, softening the lines in his face despite the bruises.

“Murtagh’s brewing tea in the kitchen. I made sure he stayed awake, per yer instructions. Dinna fash, lass. He and I are alright.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to tame her hair a little. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I don’t have any idea why I did. I can usually keep myself up.”

“I’m sure Murtagh would like to sleep soon, but he willna wi’out yer permission. Can ye walk?”

Nodding, she staggered around the bed, shooting her hand out to brace on the wall.


“Sorry, I’m alright. Just… I’m a little dizzy. Give me a moment.”

Blinking rapidly, Claire tried to get herself to focus.

“Christ, I canna imagine how tired ye must be. Come on, let me help ye to the kitchen. A sturdy cuppa will help ye.”

“I’m fine,” she said, vision still swimming slightly.

A warm, large hand rested on the small of her back.

“Please,” he said softly. “After all ye’ve done for me and for Murtagh, let me help ye.”

Realizing she probably wouldn’t make it to the kitchen under her own power, she nodded in agreement.

“Alright. But on the other side. I don’t want you to irritate your bad shoulder.”

“As ye say, Sassenach.”

Between the two of them, they stumbled down to the kitchen. True enough, the tea things were out and waiting, Murtagh sitting at the table.

“Ah, and so she wakes.”

“How’s your head? I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I was trying to stay awake to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m shocked ye stayed on yer feet as long as ye did, after-”

Jamie coughed loudly, interrupting his godfather.

“She needs some tea,” he said.

Claire looked up at him just in time to catch the glare he’d shot the other man. Still, Jamie helped her into a chair and fixed her tea. To her surprise, he put in a dash of cream and nothing else, exactly the way she preferred.

“How did you know that… Right,” she said, shaking her head again. “Psychic.”

While she let the warm liquid infuse her with comfort and strength, she realized the two men were speaking in Gaelic. She didn’t know what they were saying, but it seemed heated and a maybe a little hostile.

Eventually, Murtagh turned to her and met her eyes.

“How do ye feel, lass?” Murtagh asked.

“Alright. I really don’t know why I passed out.”

“Ach,” Jamie said dismissively. “Dinna fash about it. Ye came and did work ye werena expecting.”

As she took a long drink of her tea, the cell phone in her pocket began buzzing. Setting the cup down, she pulled the phone out and saw Geillis’ was calling.

“I’m sorry, it’s my roommate. She’s probably worried, I should answer.”

Claire got up and stepped away for a moment.


“Claire! Where are you? I woke up and saw your note but you weren’t home. What the hell happened to you?!”

“I’m sorry Geillis. I’ll be home soon and I’ll explain everything then. Drink the water by your bed and take the aspirin.”

Geillis snorted.

“I have. This isn’t my first hangover. Come home soon. I’m worried.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Ending the call, she slid the phone back into her pocket before looking back at the two Scotsmen, offering an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry,” she started.

“Dinna fash,” Jamie said as he stood and cleared is throat. “You’ve got a life to return to.”

Claire blinked at his sudden change of accent. Once again, he’d adopted the false identity flawlessly.

“Feel free to come back any time,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

“Thank you. Um… Look, if you get into trouble again and need help, you can give me a call.”

Glancing around, she realized she didn’t have anything to write with. Jamie opened a drawer in the small cabinet and handed her a pen and pad of paper.

“Thank you. This is my cell. Give me a ring if you need anything. If that wound starts to get infected you need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Jamie said softy. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

Claire shook her head, trying to hide the wince it caused.

“No, I’m alright. Thank you.”

Jamie stood close to her, eyes searching hers.

“Are you sure? You nearly fell down the stairs earlier. I’d hate if something happened to you.”

Murtagh said something gruff, but Jamie ignored him.

“Quite sure. Thank you, Mr. Fraser.”

For a moment, he looked like he didn’t believe her. But then he bowed his head a little and smiled.

“Have a lovely day, Miss Beauchamp.”

Hearing her name confused her for a moment. She’d gotten used to hearing him call her Sassenach. After glancing at both men one last time, Claire nodded to herself and started the walk home.


“Do ye mind tellin’ me just what the hell that was? Claire doesna ken what she’s capable of! She needs to be aware of her gift!”

Jamie glared at his godfather.

“No. She doesna. No’ yet. And ye canna just spring that sort of information on someone!”

“She needs to know.”


Murtagh glared back.

“It is my job to protect ye and keep ye alive as long as I can. From what ye told me of the visions, they’re getting worse. Like Brian’s did. Ye need her. Like Brian needed Ellen.”

“I canna have her remain here out of an obligation to me. I…”

Two dark eyes narrowed at him.

“Ye care for the lass, then?”

Jamie began pacing, running his hands over his head.

“Of course I do! But…”

Turning, he met his godfather’s eye.

“Ye canna do a thing about it.”

“How could I no’ feel something for her? Ye saw how she was. Dove right in and saved our lives. And then the things I’ve seen…”

Jamie trailed off, swallowing hard.

“What have ye seen, lad? Ye’ve never said?”

“Her past. Our past. A past life? I dinna ken. But I’ve seen her, seen… I’ve felt her when she…”

Murtagh stood and put away the tea things.

“I think we need something a wee bit stronger than tea, lad.”

After pouring them each a small glass of whisky, Murtagh sat back in his seat.

“Start from the beginning, then. Tell me what ye’ve seen.”

Jamie exhaled, seeing not the whisky in his glass but the whisky colored eyes of his visions.

“Her. God I’ve felt what it’s like to lie wi’ her. Seen what she looks like when she’s happy and laughing. I ken why she’s afraid of love, afraid of growing close to people. I ken why she’s chosen a predictable life.”

“Ye love her?”

“No!” Jamie paused. “Yes. I… I dinna ken.”

Murtagh nodded slowly.

“I see now, why ye didna want to tell her of her gift. It would mean she’s here to keep ye alive, no’ by her choice. She could still be wi’ her man.”

Jamie pinched his eyes closed.

“I… Sometimes it’s hard for me to ken what’s me and what’s the vision. It’s like… Sometimes I canna tell the difference between what I truly feel and what I feel through the vision.”

“So ye’ve had visions of her, no’ just a past life? Any of her future or just her past?”

“Past. I dinna want to ken her future. No’ if… if it’s wi’ someone else.”

Murtagh nodded thoughtfully, setting down his empty glass as he yawned.

“Aye. I understand ye now. But ye need her, mind. No’ just because of yer feelings. It’s her power alone that kept yer visions from getting any worse. If she hadna been there, there’s no way to ken how bad it might ha’ gotten. So, eventually, ye need to tell her who she is. Tell her what she is.”

“Aye. I will. Just… No’ yet.”


Claire inserted her key into the door just as it pulled open. With a gasp, she leapt back and stared up at the man exiting.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

The man was tall, easily over six foot, with a bushy gray and white beard. He was unusual, if he was one of Geillis’ latest conquests. She usually went for younger more… athletic men.

“It’s alright,” Claire answered as he rushed down the stairs.

Inside her flat, Claire approached Geillis, who looked content and a little smug.

“Who was that?”

“Oh him? I’m not sure what his full name is. Dougal… something.”

“You didn’t have him when you came home last night.”

Geillis giggled.

“No. I didn’t. He called some time and well… One thing lead to another and…”

One delicate brow ticked up, allowing Claire to use her imagination to fill in the rest.

“At least you have part of a name. More than most.”

“How about we talk about where you’ve been all night.”

Her first instinct was to lie about where she’d been. She could say she’d gone to Frank’s, but they’d had no dinner plans.

“I… Went back to that psychic.”

“You did?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me??”

“I just wanted to prove he was a fraud.”

Geillis’ mouth dropped open.

“And? Did you get another reading!?”

“I did. He said I’d fall in love and live happily ever after with a tall, dark-haired man.”

Her roommate’s eyes rolled.

“He did not.”

“He did. So, he’s a fraud. Like all the others.”

Pushing past Geillis, Claire headed for her room. If she kept the lies short and simple, they might just pass undetected. But she had to get away before she was discovered.

In her room, Claire stood in front of her dresser frowning. Something wasn’t quite right. The photographs on top were slightly out of place. Her jewelry box was on the wrong side.


A moment later, her roommate leaned on the doorframe.


“My room… Why have things moved?”

“Oh, that. I tidied up a bit. You know. Vacuumed and such.”

Casting Geillis a disbelieving look, Claire snorted.

“Geillis Duncan, you don’t even know where the vacuum is. The only thing you know how to clean is the liquor cabinet.”

With a shrug, the other woman disappeared to her own room.


Closing the door behind her, Geillis locked it and pulled out her cell phone.

“What?” came the gruff voice on the other end.

“I was right. She went back.”


“Claims he’s a fraud.”


“Is she lying?”

“I think so.”


Geillis rolled her eyes.

“She’s easy to read when she’s looking at you.”

“Is it working?”

Picking up the clock radio on her nightstand, she fiddled with the stations until she heard a muffled crackle.

“Cleaning? Like hell. And in my room no less! She can’t possibly think I’m that gullible.”

“It’s working.”

“Good. Make contact when you have information.”

The line went dead and Geillis put the phone down. Hopefully she would get useful information soon.

Continue to Part 6

The Night Ahead (Part 2)

summary: bucky came out of cryostasis after just a few months. with the help of steve, he’s trying to piece the fractions of his mind back together. while flipping through old HYDRA files, he remembers something from his days as the winter soldier: you.

pairing: bucky x reader (sort of?? it’s complicated)

series contains: angsty angst, sadness, bucky reliving memories as the Winter Soldier, violence, people die a lot, bucky trying to cope, really awful translations of German, Russian, and Romanian (thanks to google translate i apologize in advance)

a/n: thank you for all the nice comments and love for this fic! i appreciate it and love you all for it. hopefully this part is just as enjoyable as the first, and it’s now from the reader’s perspective. also, i had issues with the tags last time. almost half of the people didn’t end up getting tagged? so hopefully tumblr isn’t an asshole this time. MASTER LIST | PART ONE

Originally posted by multi-fandom-imagines13

The Belmont Inn sat in solidarity upon one of the many hills located in rural Montana. Looking upon the Inn from the town nestled in the valley below, there’s a single winding road that reached the Inn’s entrance. The Inn itself had been around since the early 1900s but received a facelift a couple of years ago. It was one of those buildings that were created with the intent to merge with the surrounding environment rather than stand out. Made from spruce wood, both the inside as well as the outside reminded people of the old country. It was impressive, but an overall simple architectural feat. It was one of my favorite places.

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If you’re gonna let me down, let me down gently


Jyn is being watched.

She knows she is, can’t shake the feeling of eyes on her back, but every time she glances out of the corner of her eye or takes a surreptitious peek in the mirror, whoever it is that’s been eyeing her has conveniently looked away.

She keeps pummeling the sparring dummy, the attention stoking the flames of her already heightened annoyance. It’s been kind of a shitty day, beginning with the hot water in her crappy apartment having been turned off for the fourth time this week, and ending with her manager at Starbucks– a nineteen year old who thinks he’s better than her just because he’s in college and she’s not– reaming her out.

Admittedly, the way she acted wasn’t the most professional. On the other hand, when a customer decided that her busing and wiping down tables was an indication she wanted her ass grabbed, she took that as an indication he wanted a knee to the balls. Unfortunately, her douchecanoe of a manager didn’t buy her he was asking for it defense, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to get fired.

So she wails on the dummy until her hair sticks to her sweaty forehead and her fists ache and hopes the asshole ogling her gets the message that she isn’t someone to be trifled with. Not anytime, and especially not in the mood she’s in today.

Of course, that’s when hands come up to hold the dummy still. She startles, glaring on instinct at the guy before her. He has dark hair, a neat beard, and sharp eyes that make her want to check on her wallet.

“What?” She snaps instead, crossing her arms and trying to mask how heavily she’s breathing.

“I’m looking for a sparring partner.” His voice is softer than she thought it would be, his accent giving it a lilt that makes her insides lurch.

“I’m not.”

He cocks his head. “Are you sure? One of the trainers said we might be well-matched.”

Jyn’s eyes drift to the desk where Chirrut is perched, waiting for his next client to arrive. She can see his soul mark– a series of overlapping shapes on his collarbone that form a sort of abstract geometrical design– peeking out from beneath his tank top. His husband Baze has a matching one on his neck, and she’s sure if she scoured the weight machines looking for him, she’d be able to spot it.

Chirrut grins and waves in her direction as if he knows she’s looking. Her lips twitch. It’s spooky that he always seems to know, but she’s pretty used to it by now.

“And,” the guy adds, drawing her attention back. “It looked like the training equipment could use a break.”

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Jughead & Reader: Choices

Summary: You and Jughead grew up together on the Southside so when he transfers to Southside High, you make up for lost time. You both realize that after all those years apart, you have feeling for one another. But that’s not the only thing Jughead discovers.

Requested by: anonymous

Listen to: Wonderful Distraction - The Wombats

“Alright everyone, please quiet down. We have a new student at Southside High,” your teacher said as she addressed the class of rowdy sophomores. 

You didn’t care to look up from your notebook as you sketched anything that came to mind. New students came to Southside all the time and it was rare any of them ever stayed. What was the point in getting to know the new kid?

“Everyone, please welcome… Is this your name or nickname?” The teacher asked in confusion. You still didn’t look up. “Er okay. Everyone, please welcome Jughead Jones… the third, to our class.”

Your heart stopped. You lifted your head and saw him standing in front of the class with his hands in his pockets, wearing a strange gray beanie on his head. His eyes met yours and you were frozen. You hadn’t looked into those emerald eyes in years but they still affected you the same. Your heart was racing, your throat was closing up a bit, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. After all this time you still felt something for Jughead Jones.

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The Psychology of Logan

Logan is the perfect movie. If you have not seen it and have plans to, please, read no further. Stop right now. Go into the movie without any spoilers from me. Then by all means, come back and read.

If you have already seen it, or for some reason do not plan to see it and still want to read on, then you may proceed.

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Would Never Call It Love Part 6 | Calum Hood

Inspired by the break up scene between Ross and Rachel in Friends. THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART. Part 7 will be the last part of this story. Hopefully you all enjoy. Inbox me your thoughts!

Previous parts 1 2 3 4 5

(not my gif)

After more thrilling shows with Ashton’s sweaty hugs and the exhilarating crowd heard from miles away, we all found ourselves here back at the hotel we were all staying at after the most recent show. All except, of course, Calum and Nia. Arzalyea and I were perched on the comfy bed near the edge, while the rest of the boys were sitting on the ground in a mini circle. Michael thought it would be fun to play a drinking game, a twist on spin the bottle. Instead of kissing someone that the bottle lands on, that person gets to mix a drink for you in private and you have to drink the whole thing. We had ingredients from things like vodka to horseradish. So, by midnight my throat was burning, eyes watering, and I felt the giggles come along as time went on. 

“Y/N, since you’re the most adventurous, how about we steam it up a little?” Luke suggested.

“And how are you proposing we mix it up?” I said, then continued to drink my orange juice chaser.

“Next person the bottle lands on, you have to take a body shot from.” My face cringed at the thought, but the already coursing rum and vodka running through my body made me nod my head, wanting to prove that I don’t back down. 

“Fine Hemmings, I just hope your girlfriend won’t kill me if it lands on you sucker.” I smirked to Arz who just pretend puked, and then laughed.

I spun the bottle at a moderate pace and it started to slow near the boys side. Once the bottle stopped, it landed on my now boyfriend, Ashton. He smiled proudly, already pulled off his shirt and laying down horizontally on the bed. I covered my mouth, embarrassed, as Luke poured a sloppy shot into Ashton’s bellybutton. He giggled at the odd feeling, but his eyes dug into mine, wanting to so badly feel my lips on a pretty sensitive part of his body.

“Now drink, sucker.” Luke mocked, and I pulled my hair back using my hand. As my lips pressed into his firm stomach, my lips rounded around the hole filled with liquor, and slurped it up, even using my tongue to clean it all up. I could feel Ashton tightened under me, and I swore I could hear a faint moan escape his mouth, even over the noises of everyone in the room. I sat up setting my hair in place and cleaned my mouth with the back of my hand, smiling proudly. But the room died down in commotion when we all heard the hotel door open. I was facing away from the door while everyone was facing it dead on, and bulging eyes told me it could only be one person. My head slowly turned around before my body, meeting his eyes. 

He was clutching his phone, water bottle, and wallet all in one hand, and all stared at us with a straight face. There’s a certain way you can tell when Calum is mad. His shoulders are far more back and brooding than a normal man, his brows hand low on his face with a slight downward curve, and his bottom lip juts out more along with his chin. To make the whole situation not seem awkward, I turned back around, as Ashton brought his hand to my knee to calm me down.

“Hey bro, thought you were gonna be with Nia the entire night?” Michael asked, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I broke up with her.” The whole room seemed as if someone pressed the paused button on a remote, and the whole room fell silent. The only noise to be heard was the slight ringing in the air. Everyone’s eyes, even Ashton’s, fell upon me, as if I was suppose to have some response or reaction to this statement. However, I didn’t budge, and kept my ‘non-concerned’ composure. Deep down, though, my heart began to race in my chest and got louder with each pump to the point where I almost couldn’t hear anything else.

“Nobody ask any questions, I’m going to bed. Hope you all are having fun.” He said sternly. I could feel his eyes digging into the back of my head, as he left the room to the second bedroom next door that was connected to the room we were in. As the door slammed shut, I jumped, and Ashton placed his hands on my shoulders. I heard everyone let out a shaky breathe, and the room seemed quieter than before.

“So, I think we’re going to head out, probably down at the lobby to the bar, you’re open to join us but until then, night Y/N, night Ashton.” Luke said, more hushed than his normal voice, and all 3 slipped out of the room without a single peep.

I could feel my mouth hanging open, and the build up in my chest that contemplated coming out in the form of tears, as I stared at the messy comforter beneath me.

“I think you should talk to him Y/N…” Ashton whispered, both of our heads now hanging. I trembled feeling his hands dropping from the comfortable position on my shoulders. I could feel the lump in my throat growing by the second, knowing exactly what was bound to happen either in this moment, or very very soon.

“You’re the only one who could get through to him in this time.”

“But what about us…” I looked up to find Ashton already wiping away stray tears, and sniffled.

“We both know you never really felt anything for me. Well…I personally know now.” He looked up at me with red eyes. “But I know you’ve never liked me more than a best friend.”


“It stings. It hurts. it’s…heartbreaking. But I mostly blame myself.” More tears lunged from his eyes, as I sat up and grabbed his cheeks, making sure to wipe them away as they fell, some being stopped by his growing beard.

“Don’t-don’t say that please…”

“But I do. I blame myself for taking you away from him and making you question your feelings. I blame myself for confusing you. I blame myself for taking you for my own when I didn’t even think about you, I practically took advantage of you. But mostly, I blame myself from breaking Calum’s heart.”

“W-what, do you mean? I broke him Ashton, I told him I didn’t love him when I did, it was all my fault you hear me?” He shook his head, shutting his eyes.

“No, he loved you even after all of that. And I, being the extremely selfish best friend, took his girl for myself, not even blinking an eye. And I miss him, I mean we’re Cashton. We’re best friends, bandmates, brothers. And now, I think I completely ruined our relationship for good.” He smothered his face into my palm, holding onto my hand for needed strength. I felt my own tears well up in my eyes, but held myself together for Ashton’s sake. Even though he couldn’t see me, I nodded my head to his request from before.

“I’ll do it, I’ll talk to him.” He cracked his eyes open, and began using his cotton tee to wipe around his tears. He sniffled a couple of times, before giving me a slight smile and a final kiss on the forehead.

“So I guess this is it, huh?” I asked questioningly.

“Unfortunately so.” He combed through my hair, staring at me the loving way he always has. This was the last time he’d be able to, this close, this intimately. 

“I’m going to catch up with the others. Let me know how things go with Calum please.” I nodded, watching him get up, grab his coat, and smile at me one last time before closing the door, leaving me and the Maori boy separated.

I had the courage from the fading liquor to fully open his door without a knock, and saw him lazily lounging on the bed with only his sweatpants on. The room was dark, except for his phone light on his face. I flipped the switch next to the door, and walked in further to shut the door. His eyes squinted, and he did not look at all pleased to see me of all people.

“I was trying to sleep.”

“Obviously not, you were on your phone.”

He huffed out a chuckle, and threw his phone against the plush chair in the corner of the room with enough force to see the veins in his bicep protrude. 

“Look, Calum I didn’t come in here to fight I came in to talk.”

“No, leave. Get out. I don’t even want to see you right now, I can’t look at you.”

“You have no problem looking at me when you’re basically tonguing Nia down in front of me, or giving me a death glare when I’m in Ashton’s arms!”

“Oh yeah how’s your little boyfriend? You’re little fuck buddy?”

“We just broke up Calum!” His eyes caught mine as he sat on the edge of his bed.

I strolled over to sit on the front of the bed, while he remained facing away from me on the side. “Calum, we’ve had our fair share of mistakes. I made the mistake of sleeping with Ashton while I still loved you. And even though he was different, my mind never strolled away from you. It’s always been you.” I tried to slowly lay my hand on his defined back, but he jumped up, swatting me away as if I were a fly.

“Don’t, touch me. You don’t get to come in here, tell me you love me and expect things to get better, none of what you said makes it any better, it doesn’t work that way!”

I couldn’t say anything, I knew I was the one in the wrong when it came to him and I. If I never would’ve told him I didn’t love him, and then try to jeopardize his new found relationship with my own selfish feelings, this all wouldn’t have unraveled this way.

“You’re the one who bailed, you’re the one who ran away from your feelings when I broke our most implemented rule. And besides the lying problem, we have this whole problem to fix! How are you going to solve it? If you really love me like you say you do, how do you plan to make things better!”

“Calum…I did something, so incredibly stupid and selfish of me. I lied to you, I slept with someone else to get over you, I ruined your obviously better relationship because of my own love for you which isn’t fair to you or Nia. And as much as I would jump at the chance to redo everything…I can’t.” My voice was now cracking at this point due to fast hot tears flowing down my cheeks.

“But in the end I know that what we have is so much better than any other connection we could have with anyone else. What we have is something more than just a good fuck here and there, it was a growing friendship and genuine love for one another. In reality you are my best friend Cal, and the only person I’ve ever felt anything like this before. I love you Calum…”

I swiftly grabbed his hand, and brought it to my lips but again he jumped even farther away from me.

“I won’t just fall limp in your arms like I always have this time Y/N! I have always came back to you! Not again! ” He pointed a solid pointer finger at me, emphasizing his words directly toward me. “I think you need to leave, and I think you should get back together with Ashton.” He slowly walked toward the door to open it for me, but I quickly got up and pulled his shoulder to look at me but he didn’t even flinch, but however did stop in his tracks.

“No, no Cal we can work this out, the love we have for each other will help us work this out, finally, together!”

“Well that love fading.” My heart cracked at his words, hearing that he could possibly be falling out of love with me because of my own actions completely ripped me apart.

“Look, we have to work this out. There’s got to be a way Calum…please…” I ran in front of him and placed my pleading hands on his visible pecks, feeling his rapidly beating heart against my palms. “I don’t know what to do without you, I have nothing without you. There’s a void in my heart that can only be filled with you, I need you so badly…” My crying eyes looked deep into his now deep brown ones, feeling as if our souls were connecting as his bottom lip began to quiver.

“I don’t know what I would do without these gorgeous arms that protected me and kept me safe,’ I placed a kiss on his bicep, ‘without these hands that kept mine warm even if your own were frozen,’ I kissed his fingers, ‘without this cheeks that held a smile so bright and alive that I didn’t need to look at another art piece in the world,’ I kissed his cheek, ‘without these eyes that spoke to me when words weren’t needed,’ I kissed his eyelashes, ‘and without your heart, your amazing love-filled heart Calum.” I ended with kissing his chest, my lips longing to stay on his heated skin. For a minute, I could feel him want to grab me and hold me there for eternity, afraid of ever losing me again, but instead, he just stayed lifeless in front of me, his arms staying down by his sides.

“I can’t do it…you’re so different from when I first met you, you’re like this completely different person I don’t even know anymore. Whenever I look at you, I see Ashton,,,lying above you like when I caught you two…” 

At this point, Calum Hood had finally cracked.

“Just like I’m sure you see Nia’s face when you look into mine…”

“No, Calum no. All I see is you. Your beautiful, fun loving, kind hearted soul. You’re the best person there is and I’ll always see you, as you.”

“These couple months have completely changed everything Y/N…whether you like it or not…I just can’t keep doing this with you. All the lying, the sleeping around, the putting yourself before anyone else.” I looked up at him, trying to find in his eyes if he was telling the truth. He was.

“I would have given up everything I have, for you. I would’ve put myself in danger before I let so much as a finger lay on you. But now…those feelings are fading, because for once I am going to put myself before anybody else. It’s my turn to have some happiness.”

I pulled away, hand covering my mouth while the other laid on my hip.

“But this can’t be it I mean…this can’t be the end of us Calum…”

His never left my figure as he took in my physique one last time. The way my hair fell onto one side as I flipped it, the way my foot twitched because of my anxiousness, the way I bit my nail trying to for-see what was to come after this moment.

“Then how come it is?”

And this was the moment, I finally cracked.

Part 7 if y’all really want to know how this ends! I left this at a stand off point, but I have plans for a part 7. This part actually made me choke up because this Friends scene kills me. Request loves!

Dawning in Dust: Part XI

Thanks to everyone who reads and messages me about this story. It’s so fun to write and I hope you are all enjoying it!

Previous chapter

Lallybroch was thrown into a flurry of activity after Fergus’ announcement. Jamie had given her an apologetic glance before hustling out of her new surgery and informing his family and tenants that Dougal MacKenzie was due to arrive within a few hours. Claire went back inside, trying to stay out of the way. Uncle he may be, but it was clear that Dougal MacKenzie’s presence was not the most anticipated of events. Orders for preparations were being given but Claire got the impression that most of them weren’t about cleanliness and hospitality. She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to be of some use.

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Reunited - One

A/N: First part of my new Jensen x Reader series. I mean no harm towards Jensen, or his family, this is purely fiction. Thank you to my beautiful beta @thorne93.

Characters: Reader, Jensen, Readers mom, Rose (OFC)

Warnings: None I think. Maybe a swear word or two. Alcohol

Wordcount: 1958

*Not my GIF.*

Originally posted by skyangel22

You were sitting at your favorite coffee shop, waiting for your friend who was running late yet again. You loved her to pieces, but the girl was never on time.

About fifteen minutes later she finally arrived, storming through the doors looking stressed as always. “I’m so sorry, (YN),” she said, slightly out of breath. “I was just leaving my apartment when my mom called. I tried to hurry it along, but…you know how chatty my mom can be,” Rose said while searching her bag. “Fuck, I left my wallet,” she sighed before sitting down on her chair.

“It’s fine,” you assured. “I got you a coffee… although it might be cold now. You like iced coffee right?” you joked.

She sat down across from you as the two of you got caught up. She had just started her new job as night manager of a nice hotel, and you had been swamped lately with your own business, which was good, but it meant that you didn’t get to see her as often as you wanted.

“We need to have a girls night,” she suggested. “I have next friday off, what do you say? I’ll bring wine,” she said suggestively, bouncing her eyebrows.

“Swap wine with rum and you have yourself a deal,” you countered.

“Oh my god!!! I almost forgot,” she exclaimed loudly, making a few people turn and look at you. “Guess who moved back to town?”


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‘cause when you walked into the room just then

theatre au collab with @alrightpotter. here’s her part.

a/n: lucie, my love!!! happy birthday!!! i’d want to know you if you reached peak gay or became buffy summers dog or could only eat car tires. i love you badly. id probably give up weetbix for you. have the best day in the world.

Godric’s Post                                                                              8th February 2009

Film: The Wind In the Whomping Willows
Director: Bathilda Bagshot
Plot Summary: 4 friends go for a picnic. Boredom ensues.

I’ve never liked Bathilda Bagshot, and yes this may have been because of an incident at one of my parents’ house parties where she literally hissed at me when I reached for another baked potato, but the point still stands. She continues rely on prolonged dialogue scenes that don’t move the plot along and stretch to the point of absurdity, until the viewer is begging for a change in scene, shot, anything, only to presented with (unbelievably) yet more boredom.  

So put aside whatever resentment you’re harbouring that I just name dropped Bathilda Bagshot and that she used to come to my house, and wallow in how wasted my Friday night was watching this garbage. My personal highlight was the closing credits, because it meant I could at last be free from this endless hell of four people sitting in a wood, talking about sandwiches and grass for two hours straight.

Naturally I imagine some people enjoyed the film, (Bagshot does know her way around a camera, I’ll give her that, the cinematography was flawless.) however dear, cherished, hopefully-subscribed-and-not-reading-this-on-the-free-trial-reader, I must ask: who doesn’t like a little during movie commentary? Before Friday I would have said no one, but after Friday I would have to say no one, with the exception of uptight, haughty gingers.

Rather like Penelope Clearwater’s unfortunate character in The Wind in the Whomping Boredom, I too found myself being falsely accused of a crime I did not commit. In Clearwater’s case (she shines in the film, despite Bagshot’s insistence she be holding a mirror in every scene) it was of stealing the picnic sandwiches. Mine was the slightly more serious charge of ‘injuring’ a fellow reviewer.

I want it stated for the record that no such injury occurred, and that as far as I am aware popcorn is rarely classified as an assault weapon, but I am willing to hear argument on the matter. However I could be wrong because the reviewer in question seemed to genuinely enjoy the Wind In the Whomping Waste of Time, so maybe it wasn’t her eye that should be examined, but her brain.

In summary: this film has done the impossible and been even more tedious than Bagshot’s last effort, A History of the Snake Inside Me, which I didn’t think possible. My nine-year-old criticisms rarely stand up to scrutiny but I think my judgement of Ms Bagshot being The Worst has proven correct. Furthermore, I want it noted for no particular reason at all that if at any point I am contacted by a lawyer about paying medical bills for a non-existent injury, I will do something else ‘ridiculous’ and ‘childlike’ like toilet papering a Certain Reviwers house or broadcasting my witty and hilarious movie commentary over a loudspeaker during each and every film I will ever attend from this point on.

(the editor Remus J. Lupin wishes to clarify for legal reasons that comments above are aimed at no particular individual, all wishes views presented are the writer and the writers views alone, and to please not sue the paper)

Godric’s Post                                                                                  3rd March 2009

Film: 101 Fantastic Beasts
Director: Newt Scamander
Plot Summary: CGI animals have a good time. Audience have a good time.

Scamander has always had a talent for animation, even his questionable films like Beasts Which Are Fantastic If Only We Knew Where To Find Them (nonsensical, long-winded title) and The Porpentina Goldstein Story (thought it was going to be about hedgehogs. It was not.) should be seen purely for their onscreen beauty alone.

Thankfully, 101 Fantastic Beats wasn’t a repeat of the Hedgehog Incident but rather exactly what it says on the tin, 101 Fantastic Beasts romping around the city and having a jolly good time, until one of them dies and the entire world becomes a bleak hell-scape that you are desperate to escape because you can’t stop crying.

Unfortunately my screening experience of this charming film was somewhat hindered by the near constant stream of insults and accusations of ‘eye assault’ from a Certain Reviewer which culminated in said reviewer tipping popcorn that Was Not Hers across The Innocent Victims Lap.

The reviewers in question needn’t have ever spoken again but because a Certain Reviewer had slandered another Wholly Blameless Reviewer in her paper, which the Wholly Blameless Reviewer’s Mother reads, some things had to be sorted out. And those things were trying to get the Certain Reviewer to print a retraction so the Wholly Blameless Reviewers Mother would stop bloody going on about it.  

On top of this Wholly Blameless was mocked mercilessly for showing emotion during what ranks as one of the most heart-breaking scenes of all time, next to such movie moments as the ending of Dead Poets Society and the shooting of Bambi’s mother in Bambi. Obviously a Certain Reviewer needs to borrow a heart so she doesn’t have to poke fun at others for having what she does not: feelings. Wholly Blameless would be happy to lend her some of his, as he’s just good like that and not at all the ‘slice of expired a*shole’ he’d previously been accused of being.

101 Beasts has heart (unlike Certain Reviewer’s) and is appropriate for the whole family excluding twelve year olds, because obviously they’re terrible and you’d never want to take them anywhere anyway, so it’s a win-win.

(The editor wishes to clarify that the writers list of saddest movie moments is flawed because it has left off the Jack death scene from Titanic because the writer thinks ‘Cameron clearly emotionally manipulated the audience’ and ‘there was plenty of room for both of them on that door’ because the writer is an imbecile. The editor cannot believe he is the film critic.)

Godric’s Post                                                                                  11th April 2009

Film: The Cupboard Under The Stairs
Director: Gilderoy Lockhart
Summary: You really don’t want to know.

Gilderoy Lockhart has won two Oscars, and yet every time I watch one of his films I have to forcefully remind myself that it wasn’t shot by a nine-year old with a camcorder who uses their dog as a sound assistant. The dullness of the film will stun and bewilder all who see it, as it defies reason why such a thing should be made.

True Hairy Chins Shouldn’t Be Seen By The Public was wildly funny (despite meaning to be a serious documentary), but aside from that I can’t think of a Lockhart film I’ve ever enjoyed aside from classics like Gadding With Ghouls and Travels With Trolls which hardly look like Lockhart films at all, despite him having directed them.

Cupboard Under The Stairs is so mind-blowing ridiculous, from the wooden dialogue to the extended shots of director and star Lockhart doing mind-numbingly boring tasks while smiling garishly, that when I found myself sitting next to a Certain Reviewer I didn’t even bother to move but rather stayed if only to have something to do. A slight physical fight broke out, and by fight I mean a Certain Reviewer hit me for a comment I made about the twenty second long director credit, so obviously I pinched her, and then before I knew what was happening we had been thrown out.

I don’t want you to think, dear reader who has clicked on this review and therefore pays my rent, that I might have acted unprofessionally by getting thrown out a movie twenty minutes in. I want to clarify: I absolutely acted unprofessionally. There is no ‘might’ about it. But my point still stands: the film was garbage, and that fact that I could tell this from only the first twenty minutes is further evidence of its garbagery.

Now I know at this point you’re all clambering to hear more about the two hours I spent alone with a Certain Reviewer, as for some bizarre reason, you’re all incredibly interested in our relationship built off pure loathing and irritation. Well, prepare yourselves readers, because a Certain Reviewer’s favorite filmmaker is not only Wes Anderson (!! There should be a limit to the amount of pastel on a screen at one point). But she also hasn’t read the best novel of all time, The Great Gatsby, and then told me that that ‘wasn’t that weird’ and asked me to ‘close my mouth’ because ‘its been two minutes’ and its ‘getting weird’.

However she did earn points back by liking Star Wars (if she hadn’t, I may have committed a crime worse than Cupboard Under the Stairs’ acting) and she also noted that Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo + Juliet was her sexual awakening, and I to felt a deep attraction to DiCaprio and still do despite his insistence on growing a beard every few years. She laughed at this, but I think it was a laugh of agreement, so therefore it wasn’t bad.

Cupboard Under the Stairs was one of the worst atrocities committed to film, but a Certain Reviewer agreed that Han shooting first was an important part of his character, so all is not wrong with the world.

Text from James Potter to Sirius Black: do u think i look like leonardo dicaprio

Sirius Black: no

Sirius Black: is this bc evans said she liked him

James Potter: absolutely not

Text from James Potter to Remus Lupin: do i look like leo dicaprio

Remus Lupin: firstly, dont call him leo

Remus Lupin: and secondly, obvsly not

Remus Lupin: no two people have ever looked more different

James Potter: fuck u

Text from James Potter to Peter Pettigrew: do i look like leo dicaprio

Peter Pettigrew: no u look like u have a thing for evans

Peter Pettigrew: sirius told me to say that

Peter Pettigrew: whos evans

James Potter: do u not even read my fuckin column pete

Peter Pettigrew: it costs four pounds a week to subscribe to ur shitty paper i don’t have that kind of money

Godric’s Post                                                                                     3rd May 2009


The Godric’s own Sirius Black, gossip columnist extraordinaire, was sent to the Red Carpet premiere of A Streetcar Named the Knightbus and reported back to us on all the hot gossip and glamour of the night.

In what may have been my favorite red-carpet to date, not in the least because Rita Skeeter was thrown out for badgering guests only ten minutes in, but because the greatest thing in the world happened. It was so great in fact, that I managed to look past the colossal injustice of me not being invited to walk the carpet myself, which was clearly a mistake (the editor Remus J Lupin would like to clarify it was not) and have a roaring good night.

May I just clarify that by roaring good night I mean I got absolutely plastered (The editor wishes to state that The Godric does not promote drinking) so the night comes back to me in bits, and from what I can remember everyone looked great. I can’t remember what the film was about, or even if they let me in (editor: they did not.) but even if it wasn’t I’m sure the film was good too. (editor: it was average)

But as I mentioned above, the best thing in the world happened, and that was that The Godric’s very own film critic James Potter got to walk the red carpet. He will tell you this is because his insightful and poignant columns are finally getting the attention they deserve. Any sane person would then loudly talk over him and say the real reason is because he’s become rapidly more popular with the introduction of a Miss Lily Evans, also a film critic, into his weekly reviews. Or, as James calls her, A Certain Reviewer. (editor: for legal reasons the editor must assert that A Certain Reviewer could be any individual and to please not sue the paper for defamation.)

Turns out Miss Evans had a popularity boost as well, because she was also on the red carpet, looking ravishing in a backless teal ballgown, and honestly, readers, it was a sight to see Evans in that dress. Potter obviously thought so to, as he spent the entire night staring. And not subtle staring. Obvious, in-awe, I-can’t-believe-a-person-can-look this-good, staring.

Now, once I’d gotten over the fact that not once in our ten-year friendship had James ever given me that look, I was absolutely thrilled. I had a thirty pound bet going that they’d be together by May and I’d just won, if that look was any indication. (the editor: it was twenty pounds.)

Furthermore, Evans and Potter spent the entire night talking, not even noticing how the cameras had utterly latched on to them despite having no idea who they were, purely based on the looks they were giving each other. It was a sight to behold, seeing two utterly oblivious people in formalwear hold a conversation probably about the merits of dressing gowns (they talk about weird stuff like that) while what felt like the entire world took photos.

Now I’m aware I’m meant to be discussing the gossip and glamour from the whole night and not just two D-list celebrities who happen to both be my friends. But consider this: I do not care. These photos are modern art. Both so clearly have a crush on each other it’s embarrassing. Even Moony would have to agree (the editor: I do.). Anyway, in summary of the night: I bet everyone reading this that they’ll be screwing in a month. Mark my words.

[image: a man in a suit and a woman in a dress, against a while backdrop with A Street Car Named the Knightbus film logo printed across it. Her head is turned towards him, laughing, holding a delicate purse. He is looking at her, mouth parted, like she is the first girl he has ever seen. Something to be looked at just to make sure she didn’t disappear, blown by the wind, like in a dream. A dream girl- except not. A real girl, in a real dress, in a real place. He can’t quite believe it. A hundred camera flashes go in the background.]

Text from Sirius Black to James Potter: so whens the wedding

James Potter: i fuckin hate u

Sirius Black renamed the group james’ got the hots for evans

James Potter: this is cyber bullying

James Potter: im calling netsafe

Remus Lupin renamed the group netsafe cant help the fact that ur in love with evans

James Potter renamed the group stop now

Sirius Black renamed the group not a chance mate

Sirius Black created the Facebook Page Lily Evans and James Potter should get it on

This page received 17,798 likes.

Text from Lily Evans to Sirius Black: im going to fucking maim u. take it down.

Sirius Black: sent a link

Lily Evans: if that’s a link to the fucking page i will cut your balls off

Sirius Black: its not

Sirius Black: on an unrelated note do not click on that link it is a virus I just remembered

Remus Lupin created the Facebook Page Lily Evans and James Potter should get it on part two because lily made us delete the last one

This page received: 21,104 likes.

(don’t forget to check out ellie’s part here)

Still The Same

Summary: Benny finally feels comfortable enough, to show you his vampire side. Yet, he’s still scared of you running away, little did he know you were not scared of him at all and your goal was to prove him.
Requested by: @allinhishands

Words: 1745

Pairing: Benny Lafitte x Reader

Originally posted by mooseleys

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, biting

A/N: This was a request written for Smut Appreciation Day, which I will also combine with Benny’s Creation Challenge by @loveforbenny Also a big thanks to the amazing @romanovoff for betaing this for me! <3


The first time you met Benjamin “Benny” Lafitte was shortly after Dean returned from purgatory. He had called you and asked you to pick him up, without Sam, and we would tell you later why.

As soon as you met the man giving Dean some company, you knew why. He was a vampire. While neither Dean nor Benny told you, you knew it. Vampires were always your special area when it came to hunting and that way you could always tell a vampire apart from a human. And you knew Sam would be able to tell as well, that’s why Dean only wanted you to come.

You would handle the situation better.

Benny had suggested breaking apart now, he had suggested for you and Dean to head home and go back to being the family you were before, while he was going to see how much of his old life he would be able to get back.

But for some reason, something inside you couldn’t just let him go on his own. Who knew how long he has been in purgatory? So you had suggested to stay with Benny for some time. At least until he got used to living in this world again.

Dean and Benny had both protested at first, but you assured them that you would be fine and that it was for the better.

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Not that I think it’s going to be this easy, but...

I just wanted to play around with the whole cliffhanger and unresolved issues between Fitzsimmons thing, because good god did I need to write after that finale (which was great, don’t me wrong, I just need to make sure I get my Fitzsimmons fill)!

That being said, if anyone wants to see something specific, whether it be a missing scene/fix-it/specific idea for Season 5, feel free to prompt me - I’ve got a couple other things that need writing first, but I will get to them as soon as possible!

Honestly, I’m not even sure this makes complete sense, but I can’t stare at it any longer, so… Enjoy!


Jemma Simmons was very, very done with space.

She’d already been there, done that, and all against her will, as usual. Waking up to find herself trapped in a prison-like space station hidden in an asteroid belt? The most predominant emotion had been the overwhelming feeling of pure exasperation.

Not this again.

Her next thought, however, had been to wonder where the rest of her team was – where Fitz was. They’d all been together in that diner, and that was the last thing she remembered. Had they been transported to the space station as well? Were they all there together, just being kept apart?

The only thing Jemma was more done with than space was being separated from Fitz. Hadn’t they endured enough of that already to last a lifetime?

And when the ever-silent, helmeted guards began to bring her to a tiny little lab each and every day to do work for whoever it was that had kidnapped them, she made no secret of how very much she did not agree with this arrangement.

In fact, by the time a few weeks had passed, Jemma felt as though the only words that left her mouth now were dry, sarcastic remarks. Even her near-constant attempts to find out information about her teammates (always unsuccessfully) came in the form of barbs directed at her guards.

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One and Only

Prompt: You need a little bit of T.L.C. after being shot on a mission and that includes a new roommate. You have a massive crush on him and he’s clueless.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,712

Warnings: violence, fluff

A/N: inspired by a song, shocker: one and only by adele. also….. BEARDED DOMESTIC STEVE ROGERS. let me know if you want to be tagged or anything.

Tagged: @defendors @marvelfandom-stuff @cchrriissuuu @katexbishopx @all-around-geek @thorne93


Originally posted by charlesxsavier

Two months ago, it started out as any other mission. Steve, Bucky, and Sam lead the way and you followed behind with Natasha and Wanda. But it’s the ambush that wasn’t like all the other missions you’d been on. Natasha was taken out of the line with a swift kick to her stomach, and Wanda immediately went to her rescue, leaving you vulnerable. You took out a few of them with a few well timed and well aimed shots before you heard the shot and felt the overwhelming feeling of burning pain in your side.

It took you off your feet instantly and you fell to the ground as you gripped your stomach, trying to keep any sort of pressure on the wound. But the pressure you were attempting to put on it wasn’t enough and as you looked down, the blood made its appearance, leaking out passed your shaking hand and knuckles. You remember calling out for Natasha, Steve, anyone. But the ringing in your ears was all that answered you back. You heard some muffled shouting through your earpiece and then acoustically. And you remembered crawling on the ground, using all the strength you could muster into your arms, towards Natasha as she helped pull you to safety. Everything went black after that.

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Imaginary Friends

Creepy imaginary friends stories told by Reddit users.

omegaweapon The Bad Boys in the Kitchen

I used to hallucinate/hear voices at night when I was around 4, they used to say shit like “is he asleep yet? no he’s just pretending” then I’d hear footsteps running to my room and sometimes actually shit myself and they’d laugh. that’s when I wasnt actually getting beaten up by them in a dream. it was just my parents and I at the house, and it wasn’t my parents. I called them the bad boys in the kitchen. I’m 39 now and my son who’s 6 now once told me that his friend ben said, he used to make me poop my pants when I was little. I laughed it off but my son gave me accurate details of the house etc and mentioned “the bad boys in the kitchen” and how they used to beat me up, which disturbed him because i’m his hero and no one can beat up dad. i literally froze and felt like I was 4 again, I asked who Ben was and he said it was his imaginary friend. I told him Ben is a liar and was just jealous and not to worry about it.

TravelsWithTheDoctor The Creeper Man

My son from the age of three always tells me about the “creeper man” who lives in my mom and dads bedroom. He brings it up after he visits them. I made the mistake once of asking what he looks like. My son said “Oh, he doesn’t have a face.”

BrownXCoat Dead Girl in the Closet

When my daughter was three she had an imaginary friend named Kelly who lived in her closet. Kelly sat in a little rocking chair while she slept, played with her, etc. Typical imaginary friend shit. Anyway, fast forward two years later, the wife and I are watching the new Amityville (the one with Ryan Renolds) and our daughter walks out right when dead girl goes all black eyed. Far from being disturbed she said “That looks like Kelly.” “Kelly who?” we say “You know the dead girl that lived in my closet.”

MidnightXII The Captain

A parent of one of my students told us in a meeting that she was concerned because her son (7 years old) talked about an invisible ghost who would talk to him and play with him in his room. He said the ghost was called The Captain and was an old white guy with a beard. The kid would tell his mom that The Captain told him when he grows up his job will be to kill people, and The Captain would tell him who needed to be killed. The kid would cry and say he doesn’t want to kill when he grows up, but The Captain tells him he doesn’t have a choice and he’ll get used to killing after a while.

NiceColdPBR Bunny Man

When I was 16, I babysat twins who were in the third grade at the time. They always spoke of a man in an Easter Bunny costume, and they were terrified of him. One day I was babysitting, and one twin was in the shower. His brother and I were sitting downstairs watching television when all of the sudden, he said, “you need to go check on Matt.” Seconds later, Matt yelled, “He’s in here!!! He’s in here!!!” I ran upstairs, and I had to check every room before he would calm down. I’m not sure which part of the experience freaked me out the most.


Bad Things

Daryl doesn’t want to tell you that he was once a truck driver.

  • Daryl Dixon x Reader
  • 691 Words
  • No warnings

“Why won’t you tell me?” You ask as you sit beside Daryl at the bench.

It’s a nice day at the prison. With most of the Walkers gone from the fences, most of the group can relax and take a breather for a day or two, until they decide to come back, which you all knew would happen soon.

Daryl, however, is not one for rest. He’s normally found working on an engine somewhere or out tracking supplies down. You hardly ever see him just sitting on a bench outside, enjoying the warm air. Though Daryl isn’t just sitting here, he’s planning.

Daryl glances at you and sets his crossbow beside him on the seat. His bottom lip disappears between his teeth and he huffs. “’Cause.”

You roll your eyes and pick up one of the arrows Daryl was making previously. “You’ll have to tell me some time, you know.”

“Don’t matter.” Daryl looks at you, his beady eyes never looking into yours. That was Daryl for as long as you knew him.

Growing impatient, you groan and put the arrow back on the table. “Daryl, we have known each other for months now. Possibly close to a year, and I think I have told you every single thing I did before the Walkers started. Just give me a hint, let me guess.” You plead.

Daryl’s fingers trace his chin as he looks passed you, out to the garden Rick, Hershel, and Carl were fixing up. Daryl helps when he can, but farming isn’t his strong suit. “No.”

“Daryl!” You let the whine escape your lips, causing Daryl to turn his head and look at you again, still playing with his beard. “Why is it so secretive?”

For a second, you think he may get up and storm off like he did when something didn’t go his way. But Daryl merely throws his shoulders back and clears his throat, looking down at the table and the arrow he needs to finish. “Did some bad things.”

“We all have. Besides, you’re a different man now.” You try to coax him.

Daryl raises his gaze to you, his mouth twitching as he tries to think of what to say. He is always a very quiet one, never talking unless he has a reason. Even then, it’s rare. It’s a shame, because you love to hear the man talk. “Really bad things.” He growls.

You shrug your shoulder. “So you led a real tough biker gang? Maybe worked at a body shop on the side?”

Daryl shakes his head and lets more greasy hair fall into his face.

“Kay.” You tap your long, slender finger against your parted lips as you think. Everyone loves to guess at what Daryl may have done before everything went to shit. It was especially popular with the kids, who always had the best ideas. You, on the other hand, had none. “A firefighter?”

Daryl raises his eyebrow at you. “A damn firefighter?”

“I don’t know.” You whine again. “I promise I won’t tell anyone else. Please? You love me.”

At the word ‘love’, Daryl’s face turns a bright shade of pink. He looks down at the table again and his voice seems even lower, more gravel to it than normal. “Drove a truck…”

You blink and stare at the man, not entirely believing him, but at the same time, it makes sense. “This is what you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Told ya, I did some bad things.”

You smile and shake your head a little. You can’t help but feel a little warm inside, a little triumphant. “It’s not going to make me think of you any less, Daryl. You’re still my brave redneck.” You tease him.

His head shoots up in surprise, his eyes lifting to stop on yours for the first time in weeks, and his mouth was gaping open.

“Yes you.” You stand up and walk over behind the man. You throw your arms around his neck from behind and hold him close.

He silently reaches one of his hands up and lays it across your hands, thanking you in his own precious way.