been stuck in my head for weeks now

everybody wants to love you!

anonymous requested: for the soulmate prompt thing at first i was like aww for number 18 but then i just imagined modern reddie and eddie has fucking all star by smashmouth stuck in his head who the fuck is singing all start oh it’s richie (also on ao3)

Everyone knew that if a song was stuck in your head, it was because your soulmate was singing it. Eddie had always thought it was cute until it began happening to him. Now the main reason he wanted to meet his soulmate was to strangle them for singing such annoying songs.

Eddie struggled to concentrate on the textbook in front of him. He groaned and closed the book, resting his face in his hands. Bill gave him a concerned look over his laptop.

“Something wrong, Eddie?” he asked.

The brunet looked at him in exasperation. “They’re singing again. Why do they always have to start singing whenever I’m doing something important!?”

Bill smiled sympathetically. “What is it this time?”

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me / I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed / She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb / In the shape of an “L” on her forehead

“Fucking ‘All Star’ by Smash Mouth. I hate my life, Bill.”

His friend laughed. “You say that now but you’ll change your mind when you meet your soulmate.”

The hypochondriac rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Bill. You’re not the one with a soulmate that sings meme songs and weird indie shit. I wish my soulmate sang pretty songs like yours,” he grumbled.

Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play / Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid / And all that glitters is gold / Only shooting stars break the mold

Eddie whined again and buried his face in his arms.

“I want to die.”

He shot Bill a glare when he laughed.


“Are we rehearsing tonight?” Bill asked the lead singer and founder of their band.

Richie groaned. “I don’t want to but we have to keep practicing that song we’re gonna cover for the show on Friday, which is two days from now. So yeah, we’re rehearsing.”

Bill snorted. “Alright, I’ll let Bev know then.”

He left to call their bassist and Richie leaned back in the lounge chair in the Student Union. He began to hum the tune of their new song. The trashmouth pulled out his notebook and scribbled down some notes and lyric ideas.

I come home in the morning light / My mother says when you gonna live your life right / Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones / And girls they wanna have fun / Oh girls just want to have fun

Richie smiled wide as he stilled his hand. He really wanted to meet his soulmate. From what he could gather by their taste in music, they’d be fun to be around.

“What are you smiling about?”

He looked up. Bill sat down across from him, eyebrow raised knowingly. Richie’s cheeks reddened as he looked back to his notebook.

When the working / When the working day is done / Oh when the working day is done oh girl / Girls, they wanna have fun

“My soulmate’s singing.”

Bill nodded, a smirk forming. “Beverly’s on her way,” he told him. “She’s bringing dinner, also.”

“God bless her fucking soul.”


Eddie watched as Stan threw himself dramatically on the couch in his apartment. He groaned loudly before regaining his composure and sitting up.

“Everything okay, Stan?” Eddie asked, genuinely concerned for his friend.

The curly haired teen looked up at him. “Yes and no.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yes, I’m fine as in there isn’t anything actually wrong with me. No, I’m not fine because my soulmate won’t stop singing love songs.”

Eddie gave him a jealous look. “I’d take that over getting ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ stuck in my head every hour.”

Stan snorted. “I really want to meet them but it’s unlikely. I just hope the chances are good enough that we go to the same university.”

“I get what you mean. I want to meet my soulmate and beat the crap out of them for getting all those shitty songs stuck in my head, but yeah, I also want to meet them for the obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Eddie, but your soulmate sounds like a fucking nightmare,” his friend said. “Anyway, ready to start this dumbass history project?”

Eddie groaned and went over to the TV and turned it on.

“By the way, my roommate might be back, like, halfway through this documentary,” he explained as he inserted the DVD.

“I’m warning you now but history is honestly the most boring subject so don’t get mad at me if I fall asleep, which is very likely. Just pay extra attention,” Stan told him, pulling his feet up on the couch.

Eddie rolled his eyes and sat with him on the couch, pressing the play button. He tried to focus but the dull voice of the narrator explaining the French Revolution was making it hard. That and the new song stuck in his head.

Your sister thinks that I’m a freak / She’s been ignoring my calls, we haven’t spoken in a week / I get so drunk that I can’t speak / Yeah, nothing’s working and the future’s looking bleak and I say

“Really? Now of all times?”

“Song stuck in your head?” Stan asked as he repositioned himself to lie down.

Eddie nodded miserably. “Yeah, and it sounds loud. You know what I mean.”

“No, not really.”

Three beers and I’m so messed up, get drunk and I can’t shut up / She says that I drink too much / I fucked up and she hates my guts / She says that I need to grow up

“It always happens when I really need to focus. I feel like they know,” Eddie explained.

“Well, block it out and pay attention. I can feel my soul dying as this documentary progresses.”

The hypochondriac laughed at his friend and drew his legs up on the couch so he was sitting crisscross.

I’ll drink ‘til I’m staring at the ceiling / I’ll be just fine I’m numb and losing feeling / I can’t tell lies anymore

“What are we even supposed to do for this assignment?” Stan asked, looking over at Eddie.

He shrugged. “I think we’re supposed to watch the documentary and then write some questions? Our professor said he’d pick the best ones and use them as essay questions for the next test.”


I just don’t know what to do, I’m still fucked up over you / She says that I drink too much / Hawaiian red fruit punch / She says I need to grow up

“It shouldn’t be too bad considering the French Revolution is pretty straightforward,” said Eddie.

His friend groaned again, leaning his head back against the couch. “Kill me.”

True to his word, Stan fell asleep about ten minutes in. Eddie tried his best to pay attention, scribbling down possible ideas for questions, but four more songs came and went. The documentary had just ended when he heard the apartment door open. He looked up from the TV where he was removing the disc.

“Hey,” Eddie waved. “How was practice?”

Bill dropped his bookbag on the ground and headed into the kitchen.

“It was good,” he told Eddie as he poured himself a bowl of cereal before draping himself over the armchair. “We got a lot of stuff done and perfected the two covers we’re doing for Fridays show. Which you better still be going to.”

Eddie rolled his eyes when Bill gave him a pointed look. “I’m going.”

He grinned. “Good. Anyway, what the hell were you watching?”

“It was for a stupid assignment for my history class. Speaking of, Stanley, wake up! It’s over.”

He shoved Stan with his foot, jerking him awake.

“Okay, first off? Rude. Secondly, your couch is very uncomfortable, please tell me you don’t make guest sleep here.”

Eddie shrugged at him. “Do you wanna, like, stay and get take out or something?”

Stan stood up, stretching his arms over his head, causing his shirt to ride up a bit. “No, I should probably get back to my apartment and hope my roommate hasn’t burned it down,” he replied.

He seemed to just now notice Bill. “Oh, you must be Eddie’s roommate. I’m Stanley.”

Bill smiled at him and Eddie noticed Stan’s cheeks flush. “Bill.”

“Nice to meet you. Anyway, I should head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie said his goodbyes as he walked out of the apartment. He noticed how his roommate’s eyes lingered on the doorway.

“Hey, just out of curiosity, is he single?” Bill asked, looking back at Eddie.

“Unbelievable,” he shook his head as he walked back to his room.

“What, Eddie? Are you going to answer my question or not?” his roommate shouted after him.

He ignored him in favor of his phone vibrating. He checked to see that it was a text from Stan.

[ from: bird boy ] Okay so uhh

[ from: bird boy ] Your roommate is hot as fuck

[ from: bird boy ] Like,, raw me please

[ to: bird boy ] never ever ever make me read those words ever again in my life

[ from: bird boy ] Pass the word on to him I’m begging you

[ to: bird boy ] im blocking you


“Is it okay if my roommate joins us for lunch? I promised I’d go with him last week but obviously forgot and then made plans with you. He just texted me asking where we’re meeting.”

Richie looked up and Bill and laughed. “Fine with me, Big Bill. You talk a lot about your roommate. I’m excited to meet him.”

Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Slow down, they don’t love you like I love you / Back up, they don’t love you like I love you / Step down, they don’t love you like I love you / Can’t you see there’s no other man above you? / What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you / Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Oh, down, they don’t love you like I love you

He cracked a smile. “I really want to meet my soulmate.”

Bill raised an eyebrow.


His friend snorted and rolled his eyes before returning to texting his roommate about his whereabouts.

How did it come down to this? / Scrolling through your call list / I don’t wanna lose my pride, but I’m a fuck me up a bitch / Know that I kept it sexy, and know I kept it fun / There’s something that I’m missing, maybe my head for one

“Okay, he’s on his way. I told him I’d order for him so let’s get going.”

Richie nodded and followed Bill into the restaurant. They ordered their food, with Bill ordering also for his roommate, before diving deep into conversation.

“Bill, I swear to god, if you ask about him again I’m going to kill you.”

A short brunet stopped abruptly behind Bill, unaware of Richie’s presence. He took this time to admire him. He was cute. Really cute. Richie grinned.

“Hiya,” he said with a grin, taking the newcomer’s eyes off his friend.

“This is my friend Richie. Richie, this is my roommate Eddie,” Bill explained. “He’ll be having lunch with us if that’s okay with you.”

Eddie gave Richie a quick once over and a small smile before sitting down next to Bill. Their food arrived shortly after and they began to eat.

“So, Eddie,” the trashmouth began. “Are you coming to our show on Friday?”

Eddie looked up, his look a bit skeptical. “Our show?” he repeated.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all about the band from Bill.”

“You’re in that band?”

Richie laughed. “Eds, I formed that band!”

He grimaced. “Don’t call me Eds.”

The dark-haired teen reached over and pinched his new friend’s cheek. “But its cute, like you!”

Eddie slapped his hand away, only looking mildly embarrassed. He glanced at Bill.

“Is he always like this?” he asked.

Bill looked at his friend and sighed. “Sadly.”

Richie placed his hand on his chest in mock offense. “You hurt me, Bill. This isn’t how you were treating me last night. Why do you always have to act so different when we’re in public?” he whined as he began to pretend to cry dramatically.

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Richie grinned wide and pushed his chair back. “I have to go. You’d better be at that show tomorrow, Eddie, or I will be very sad!”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.

“He didn’t pay,” he heard Eddie say to Bill.

“This isn’t the first time.”

Richie waved over his shoulder and blew Bill a kiss. He winked at Eddie, his grin widening when he saw him blush.


Friday finally rolled around and Eddie decided to invite Stan to Bill’s band’s show. He made sure to specifically mention that his roommate was in this said band because he knew Stanley would never go otherwise.

“Can you please stop talking about you and my roommate fucking,” Eddie pleaded, pressing his fingers to his temples. “And are you sure you still want to go? You weren’t looking too good earlier.”

“It’s the depression,” Stan replied, giving him a look. “But I’m okay now.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you want to leave at any time and we will.”

Can I get your number? / Can I get you into bed? / When we wake up in the morning / Will you give me lots of head?

“Oh, that’s nice,” Eddie sighed as they got closer to their destination.

“Another song?”

Eddie nodded.

“Me too. Or at least parts of a song.”

Everybody wants to love you / Everybody wants to love you! / Everybody wants to love you

They approached the venue, easily identifiable by music and cheering. They paid the entry fee and walked inside. Eddie was immediately greeted by sweaty, dancing bodies and loud music. He saw Richie up on stage, strumming a guitar. He spotted Bill in the back on the drums, and two other individuals: a girl on bass and a dark-skinned guy on another guitar. He couldn’t help but stare at Richie, who caught his gaze. The dark-haired boy grinned and winked at him before continuing with the song.

Will you lend me your toothbrush? Will you make me breakfast in bed? Ask me to get married And then make me breakfast again!

Eddie watched as the rest of the band joined in for the chorus.

Everybody wants to love you.”

He froze. The Richie sang the next part alone.

Everybody wants to love you!

Eddie felt as if his skin was on fire. His hands started shaking and checked his pockets, cursing internally because of course he didn’t bring his inhaler.

“Eddie!” Stan snapped him out of his daze. Distantly he heard the band sing another line. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up. Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?”

He could only nod. He didn’t think that he would react this way to meeting his soulmate. Stan grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd. He was dimly aware of the song ending and people cheering. He didn’t notice the look on Richie’s face when Stan pulled him into the bathroom. He turned the sink on and wet a paper towel, dabbing it on his face to cool himself down.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“The lead singer of that band? The one on the guitar?”

“Richie? Yeah, he’s my roommate and best friend. He’s also terrible. What about him?” Stan asked, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.

Eddie stared at him. “He’s your roommate? You live with him?”

“Unfortunate, I know. Wait, how do you know him?”

“Bill introduced me.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, god. You’re the guy he’s been gushing on about for the past twenty-four hours. It’s disgusting.”

“Says the guy who won’t shut up about my roommate,” Eddie accused.

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, what does you almost having an asthma attack have to do with Richie?” Stanley questioned, crossing his arms.

“Well he’s, uh, he’s my soulmate,” Eddie confessed.

The curly haired boy’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. How do you know? God, he’s going to be ecstatic when he finds out.”

Eddie reddened. “That song. It was stuck in my head on the walk over here. It sounded like it got so much louder when we came inside.”

Stan nodded. “Well, you have to tell him because he looked hurt when I had to drag you in here.”

“I literally only met him yesterday,” Eddie whined.

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yet you like him! Man up and tell him that he’s your soulmate.” He gave Eddie a quick hug before exiting the bathroom.

Eddie took a deep breath. He moved to open the bathroom door but it was pushed open. Richie grabbed his hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

He short-circuited for a second. “I have to tell you something.”

Richie rubbed his thumb over the palm, making Eddie shiver. “Okay.”

Eddie looked away, cheeks red. “You’re my soulmate.”


“On the walk here, I had that song you just played stuck in my head and I’d never heard it before,” Eddie admitted.

“What did you listen to before meeting Bill for lunch yesterday?” Richie asked him.

“Um, I listened to Beyoncé. Lemonade specifically, but I don’t know what this has to do with anything.”

Richie pushed him back against the bathroom wall and grabbed the sides of his face. He kissed him hard, hands moving from his cheeks to his waist. Eddie was thrown off guard but immediately regained his composure, kissing him back earnestly, his fingers curling in his shirt. Richie coaxed his mouth open, the wet sounds of mouths and tongues pressing together filled the small room.

“I can’t believe you just made out with me in a fucking bathroom. Do you know how germy and disgusting these places are?” Eddie panted as they broke apart.

“Relax, babe. It’s not like I’m fucking you in a stall,” he grinned and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s. “Unless you want me to.”

Eddie pushed him away. “Beep beep, Richie,” he used the phrase he heard Bill say yesterday to get him to shut up. “Absolutely disgusting.”

Richie laughed and kissed him again, this time gentler. He pulled back and placed a kiss on his temple, intertwining their fingers together.

“I gotta get back out there,” he said, pulling him toward the exit. “I’ll dedicate the next song to you, darlin’.”

Eddie smiled wide as his soulmate led him back out into the crowd. He’d strangle him for singing all those annoying songs another night. Tonight was all about them.

Super Star (Part 1)

Originally posted by supernaturalwolfmaze

Request: Can I please request one where Jensen is a huge movie star? He’s out one night by himself and starts to get mobbed by fans/paparazzi. So he runs and hides in a shop that belongs to the reader. She doesn’t see it happen so she closes up the store with him inside. Then Jensen pops out from his hiding place and freaks her out lol. Maybe she doesn’t recognize him?


Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language

A/N: So this went different than I planned. Whoops…

Keep reading

To the beat of my song

Hello everyone! Happy belated birthday to @nocturna131! This is my gift for you :) hope you like it! Special thanks to @ranunculus-fox for being my beta :D

Pairing: Gajevy

Word count: 1.7k 

Rating: T


A/N: Please hear 93 million miles by Jason Mraz (Spotify/Youtube). You’ll enjoy this fic more if you hear the song first.

Disclaimer: I don’t own either Fairy Tail’s characters nor the song 93 million miles

Every Wednesday afternoon, Gajeel would take his guitar case and walk down the street to his favorite spot in Magnolia’s Central Park. He would meet up there with Lily and Juvia who would be setting up Lily’s drums and their seats for their weekly street performance. The impromptu street band came to life after one drunk evening where they performed in front of a couple of friends and all of them agreed that they could make some money out of performing in the street from time to time.

They had been doing this for the past 2 months and had already gained a regular audience that would wait patiently for their performance every Wednesday at 6 o’clock. 

Though this evening, he noticed one of their regular spectators, a blonde tall woman, was accompanied by a smaller girl wearing a gray sports jacket and blue leggings that hugged her slender legs perfectly.

Even though the hoodie hided her hair from view, her heart-shaped face and her milky white skin had Gajeel wondering if he had ever seen someone as pretty as her.

When he locked eyes with her, Gajeel felt his throat go dry as her beautiful hazel eyes seemed to be looking directly into his soul. He had never seen someone’s gaze as intense as hers; he could distinctly see the curiosity behind her eyes and the kindness of her soul and for a moment he felt as if the rest of the world faded into nothingness and only she existed.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Yuzuru was a good king but I think it would be better for him to retire and give chances for the youngsters. they are already catching up on Yuzuru on both PCs and GOEs. And there's really nothing else he needs to show or prove, but youngsters still have many areas to grow up.

This makes twice in two days that I have to break out this gif.

Originally posted by bandathebillie

My face virtually hurts, you know.

Where do I even start.

Whatever do you mean by chances? Has the ISU announced that they would reserve one place on any podium for Yuzuru Hanyu no matter what? Did I miss it? Where do I catch that press con?

Whatever do you mean by youngsters? Yuzuru is twenty-two years old. T.W.E.N.T.Y T.W.O. 22. *cue Taylor Swift’s 22 start playing real loud* *oh wait shit I hate that song* *oh wait now it’s stuck in my head* *cries* *wail* *sob uncontrollably*  

Whatever do you mean by catching up on PCSs and GOEs? Last time I checked, he’s still the holder of the world record for the short program, free skate, total score. Just set a fresh one some weeks ago, too. 

And for whatever it is you mean by catching up, even if his world records have recently been broken by someone else, how ever could that lead to the conclusion that he should retire from the sport? Should I tell Roger Federer to throw in the towel immediately, lest Rafa Nadal catches up to his Grand Slam tally? How does that logic even work?

Whatever do you mean by there’s really nothing else he needs to show or prove. He still hasn’t won his 2nd Olympics, he still hasn’t landed me my back counter quad Axel, lordy, he hasn’t even been able to replicate my beloved twizzle-sandwiched 3A, he still hasn’t got the perfect 100 in PCS. Maybe he no longer has to prove anything to anyone, but he has tons of things left to show. Oh you do, you very much do, Mr Hanyu.

Whatever do you mean by this entire sentence: there’s really nothing else he needs to show or prove, but youngsters still have many areas to grow up. How does the first part have anything to do with the second part? Is Yuzuru actively sabotaging any kid’s practice? Is his presence in the sport in any way acting as a barrier to other athlete’s growth? Has the Hanyu & Co. Inc. cornered the market on figure skating development, patented any jump, and established a monopoly on any technique? 

I, just, what?

Originally posted by namelessdistantshores


💫Recorded a dance cover to UFO by Pink Lady today!! heres a sneaky peaky! 💫
This songs been stuck in my head for like a month now 😜👽💫!!

The full thing will be up on my channel next week! be sure and subscribe so you wont miss it 😘✨!

Made with Instagram
Stuck with Me


Originally posted by bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale

Sam x Reader (eventually)

Words: hair under 1,700

A/N: Once upon a time I had this little idea, next thing I know it turned into a multi-part monstrosity. It’s been in the works for a while now, and is pretty much done so I’ll be updating it on a pretty regular basis (probably twice a week). Thanks as per usual go out to my darling wifey Beka ( @impala-dreamer ) who has listened to me bang my head against the wall more than once and assured me I wasn’t bat shit crazy for putting this out there.  

P.S. this will shift POV’s periodically, hopefully it isn’t confusing (but please let me know if it is).

“Hey sweetheart. What’re you doing in here so late?”

“Hungry. AGAIN. And I swear I’m going to turn orange soon because carrots are the only thing I want to eat.”

“Well I’ll leave you to it, just came for some water. Don’t stay in here too late – that’s my niece you’re growing in there – you need your rest.”

“Goodnight. Dean.”

Dean shot up in bed, so confused by the dream he wasn’t really confident where he was.

What. In. The. Hell.

Dreaming about pretty girls wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. Dreaming about pretty girls, pretty very-pregnant-carrot-eating-in-my-kitchen girls sure as shit was. Niece? Seriously. Did he drink last night? Wrong question. How much did he drink last night?

Keep reading

Imagine standing up for Donnie...

Originally posted by rosesloveninjas

You deeply inhaled and held it in as your mind gave off a fuzzy feeling from meditating so long. Soon, the slow burning in your chest will rise like a flame before you slowly exhale, your favorite part. But before you could even get the chance to feel that, you heard raised voices echoing off the sewer walls and coming closer. Irritated, you opened your eyes, dropped your stance and let out a frustrated groan. Sometimes you wonder how Master Splinter can get in his meditation and training with four teenage turtles around. You usually come here to be around beings like yourself, even if they’re turtles but no one in the world above the sewers understand how important the ancient art of ninjitsu works anymore. You were about to use the argument as a challenge to block out the sounds before you heard someone’s name being repeated over and over again, Donnie.

“Way to go, genius! We had them right where we wanted them!”

“I knew it was a stupid idea to even trust one of your inventions, we should’ve stuck to the traditional way”

“Bro, you nearly got us killed! You said it would attack them not us! Now we’re back to square zero!”

“Hey!” you yelled as you turned around, “What’s going on?”

Donnie kept his head down as he was fiddling with his latest invention, completely fried to the wires now.

“You should ask your boyfriend here” Leo pointed to the turtle in purple.

You took a protective step forward, “I’m not asking my boyfriend, I’m asking you”

Keep reading

Before The King [Part 1 / ?]

Post-Civil War Series

Pairing: T’Challa x Ex-Avenger!Reader

Request(s): @voynasoldat : oh gosh I definitely need another T'Challa fic I’m sweating over here! Maybe one where Tony hosts a fancy party and T'Challa gets all blushy bc of the reader wearing a very nice dress and stuff and later he sees a guy trying to flirt with her but reader looks uncomfortable so T walks up and just kisses the reader.

@kissofvenom922 : I was thinking that the reader is an avenger and when T'challa comes to visit reader make cat jokes with Sam

Characters: Reader, T’Challa, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Scott Lang, Clint Barton, Okoye (Comic Character), Mentions of Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark.

Warnings: CIVIL WAR SPOILERS, Suggestive Language, and Use of Alcohol.

Word Count: 5k+

A/N: If you haven’t seen Civil War then I HIGHLY advise to NOT read this until you have! I’m officially transitioning and I loved writing this. I got to grasp T’Challa’s personality kinda as a whole. x. T

Your name: submit What is this?

The Raft  |  1 Week After Airport Battle 

           You had been listening to Scott hum the same song for two days straight, his fingers beating against the metal stool they had supplied in the cells you all were locked up in. Your back was pressed against your cells’ wall, your arm propped on the cot just to your left with your fingers wrapped tightly around locks of your hair, often tightening when Scott went from humming to singing the lyrics.

           “..went the distance now I’m back on my feet just a man and his will to survive!” Scott sang, his voice cracking at certain parts as he got into the song.

           You groaned and let your head fall back against the wall before you raised your voice, “Sam, just tell him to shut up already!”

           “Hey! It’s been a week since we’ve been locked in this joint and be thankful I don’t have the damn Spice Girls stuck in my head!” Scott stopped beating on the stool and hollered back to you. You pulled a face and knew he was right.

           Clint spoke up from his cell you weren’t able to see, “The ant dude has a point, Y/N.”

           “Why the hell does no one bother to use my name?” Scott complained loudly.

           “Can you all just shut the hell up?! I think someone’s about to come in,” Sam voiced with annoyance, instantly causing you all to quiet and attempt to look through the tint on the front of your cells towards the entrance. The sound of the heavy duty doors opening echoed through the silence and you strained your eyes to catch a glimpse of who it was.

           “I promised I’d get you guys out of here, didn’t I?”

           At the sound of Steve’s voice you scrambled to your feet and pressed your hands against the large tinted window, narrowing your eyes to—sure enough—see Steve’s figure standing in front of Sam’s cell. He had his hands shoved into a navy jacket, his khaki pants scuffed and spotted with what looked to be blood, but you immediately wondered where Bucky was.

           “Where’s Barnes?” Clint asked what you were thinking.

           Steve turned his head to look at the archer’s cell after putting in the passcode to free Sam. You couldn’t quite see the look he had, but you took his silence as Bucky not going to show face anytime soon. The soldier had grown on you within the short span of time you had gotten to know him and it was slightly heartbreaking that Steve lost his best friend once more.

           While Steve was working on the passcode for Clint’s cell, Sam crossed over to where you were holed-up and easily entered the code into the keypad off to the side. He obviously paid attention when the guards had released you to go on a bathroom break so it was relieving to have the vibranium bars in front of the glass window slide up and then the tinted glass to recede down into the floor.

           Sam’s face was still marked with the nasty bruises he had received from the showdown at the airport and you knew you didn’t look much better than he did. Sam’s lips curled into a smile and he raised his brows. “Ready to get out of this damn place?”

           “I’ve been ready since we stepped foot here,” You said. Sam chuckled lowly and turned to see Steve approaching with Wanda in tow. She looked visibly relieved now that she was out of the strait jacket and you were happy to see your team finally hopeful again.

           Steve met your gaze as he stopped beside Sam and you smiled at the soldier. “It’s good to see you again, Steve.”

           “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.” Steve nodded.

           “I hate to interrupt the powwow, but do you happen to know where our gear is?” Scott peered from behind Clint as they came over, his eyes flickering over the group in hopes that someone would be able to answer him directly for once.

           Steve turned to face Scott. “All of our gear is government property so if we use it, they’re going to force us to sign the Accords. It’s up to you all if you want to return to headquarters and have Tony help vouch for you. I won’t think any less of you all. You already have done enough for both Bucky and I.”

           “And what are you going to do, Captain?” Wanda questioned.

           He blew a steady breath out of his nose before meeting her eye. “I’m going back to Wakanda to lay low there for as long as I need to. T’Challa offered to shelter us and he already has Bucky hidden in a lab so if you want to come with me you can.” Steve let the offer sink into all of you before you, Sam, and Wanda accepted it.

           Scott had enough trouble with the law and Clint was officially retiring for good, no matter what trouble the Team got themselves into in the future. So as Steve explained to them where to find their gear and where one of Tony’s helicopters was stashed, you and Sam both left the cellblock to pick up a few weapons off the guards while Wanda stayed behind to bade her goodbye to Clint.

           By the time Steve led you all onto the Quinjet, Scott and Clint had long since left. You were all pelted with ocean spray and the harsh wind of the sea as you hiked up the ramp and into the aircraft, finally able to let down your guard at the promise of safety. Steve pushed up the lever to raise the hatch behind the three of you and your eyes immediately went to the pilot seat.

           Steve ordered, “We’re clear, Your Highness. Set the route to Wakanda and then I’ll take over.”

           T’Challa spoke up from the control console and you saw his arm lift up to flick on a few switches in order to take flight. “Copy that, Captain.” His smoothly accented voice rang throughout the aircraft and you forgot just how attractive it was the first time you met him, even if he was trying to get to Bucky.

           Sam tapped your shoulder to draw your attention and you turned to see him strapped into a chair, already buckled in for the rough flight over the stormy ocean. You smiled sheepishly before settling into the chair next to him, sliding your arms through the straps and forcing the clamps together to keep you secure.

           Steve paused as he passed and asked, “Are you good, Y/N?”

           You nodded and he continued to the cockpit, taking over for T’Challa. The King of Wakanda picked up his helmet from where it rest by the seat and gracefully moved over to the chair across from you. You saw he was wearing his Black Panther suit as he sat down to secure himself and he must’ve sensed you watching because his dark eyes flickered up to lock with yours, causing your breath to hitch slightly. T’Challa bowed his head to you and his lips curled into a soft smile.

           “I hope this may make up for my actions in the past,” He said, “I was consumed in vengeance and now I know where my fault lies. I apologize for any harm I caused.”

           You recognized how sincere his words were and you smiled at the King.

           “Apology accepted, Your Highness.”

.  .   .

Wakanda  |  6 Weeks Later

           It had been six weeks since you first landed in Wakanda and you could easily say you had been pampered by the King. He insisted that you would have your own villa to stay in while in his country and it was only a few miles from his palace, hidden in the surrounding jungle with a wonderful view of a gorgeous lake.

           Wanda stayed in the villa with you and you both became even closer than you were before. With Sam and Steve off trying to recover HYDRA files, it left you and Wanda to adapt to the new way of life of hiding within the foreign African country. It was normal to have T’Challa or one of his personal guards—the Dora Milaje—stop by and check in, often leaving gifts that were mainly to you but Wanda also received some too.

           You were laying in a hammock strung up between two columns supporting the upper level of the villa, softly swaying side to side as you let the early morning sunlight warm your skin. The jungle was awakening all around you and the air was filled with exotic bird calls that had become so normal to you that you just tuned out the noise.

           The sliding door to the balcony opened and Wanda leaned against the entryway, crossing her arms over her chest. “T’Challa is here. He wants to talk to you.”

           You peeled an eye open to see her wearing a deep purple nightgown, her skin bronzed from being in the African sun, and she held a grumpy expression. You sighed and sat up carefully, lightly hopping out of the hammock to step past her into the beautifully decorated living room of the villa. Your bare feet padded quietly over the glossed wooden floorboards as you moved towards the foyer, picking up a light colored cardigan as you passed the couch. You tugged the cardigan around you and made sure to cover up as much as possible, seeing as you only were wearing a tank top and pair of black underwear.

           You caught sight of T’Challa’s familiar form looming over beside the fish tank, his small platoon of Dora Milaje spread strategically throughout the foyer; all dressed elegantly. You took post beside a small bookshelf, crossing your arms over your chest as you gazed at T’Challa.

           “Your Highness.” The woman who had been personally assigned to watch over the villa spoke up, drawing his attention.

           T’Challa turned to face you, a smooth handsome smile spreading over his features. “Good morning, umhle.” You brushed off the name he had begun to call you by in his native tongue, eyes following his figure as he moved to stand a few feet in front of you.

           “Good morning, Your Highness.” You said, your voice tinged with a light Wakandan accent.

           “Please, call me T’Challa.”

           “Your—T’Challa,” You emphasized his name drawing a nod out of him, “Do you mind if I ask why you are here? This is the third time this week.” You glanced back at Wanda in hopes she knew why he was here, but she just slightly shook her head.

           The King chuckled softly and turned to gesture at one of his Dora Milaje, they stepped forward and handed him a small sack that was weighed down by something quite heavy. T’Challa dipped his hand into the bag and pulled out a perfectly fat and ripe mango, he ran his thumb over the darkened skin of the fruit, and smiled at Wanda.

           “I heard your friend liked the mangoes I brought last time.” He let the mango fall back into the sack before he bunched it up and handed it to the woman who would’ve been the only one to have told him about Wanda’s appreciation of the delicious African fruit. He continued, “But, that’s not why I’ve come. Captain Rogers has requested you both be invited to the dining party held at the palace, it is tonight.”

           Wanda stepped up beside you and asked, “Will we be safe from the UN?”

           “Yes, I personally chose the guest list. Though Mr. Stark and Agent Romanoff will be attending the party, so would you want to have Okoye accompany you throughout the party?” T’Challa gestured to the Dora Milaje woman who had protected you and Wanda since you stepped foot in Wakanda.

           Okoye was a tall, regal woman with flawless dark skin. Her hair had been shaved off as part of the tradition for being a part of the Dora Milaje and in her ears were large gold hoops. She hovered next to the open kitchen entryway, her chocolate eyes carefully watching the exchange.

           You shot her an apologetic look. “No offense, but I think she’s going to be watching over us regardless.” Okoye’s lips curled up at your words and she looked fine with what you said. T’Challa didn’t have anything to say because he knew you were right.

           He pursed his lips and glanced at your own personal Dora Milaje. “I had Okoye confide in what you shall wear to the party.” Another woman stepped up holding two black boxes, you and Wanda both grasped the boxes marked in your initials. T’Challa said, “I have not seen the dresses.”

           “Thank you, T’Challa.” Wanda’s eyes were bright and she looked truly excited about the dress she had received. You then realized that you had to release the cardigan to grab the box and it lay splayed open, exposing your underwear and lower stomach. T’Challa respectably maintained eye contact.

           He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and looked to be ready to leave. He slightly bowed his head to Wanda before stepping towards you, causing you to slightly shy way by his looming presence. T’Challa searched your eyes for a moment before he pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket, setting it over your initials.

           He lowered his voice so no one could hear, “A gift of my own, umhle.” You stared at the little box before T’Challa moved back towards the front door. He then waved. “I’ll see you tonight. Hambani kakuhle.” The King disappeared out onto the porch and his form was hidden behind the three Dora Milaje he had accompany him, the women escorting him out to his vehicle.

           Okoye shut the door after them and locked it, turning to face you and Wanda. She approached with an inhuman grace, her heels softly clicking on the floorboards. Okoye’s accent was much different than T’Challa’s and very heavy, but her voice was soothing and held a sense of power; her English not quite perfected.

           “We have very busy day ahead. I scheduled King’s personal stylist to do hair and makeup,” Okoye informed.

           Wanda let the woman take her dress out of her hands before you placed your gifts atop the box. Okoye moved to set them on the large black rock that had grinded down to serve as a coffee table. You followed Wanda into the kitchen and brushed past her as she pulled open the fridge, the sack of fruits lay on the marble center island and you brought it closer to you.

           “Hey, Wanda?” You snagged her attention from grabbing a yogurt.

           She saw you pull out a piece of paper from the sack and Wanda immediately shut the fridge, coming to stand at your shoulder to read the note with you. It was from Steve and T’Challa obviously wanted to keep it between both you and Wanda.

           ‘Y/N and Wanda,

                       T’Challa must have told you about the party already, but he didn’t tell you that Sam and I will be returning to attend. We will update you when you see us, but our efforts have brought us from Siberia to Ukraine. I hope you both have been treated well underneath T’Challa’s care and he mentioned assigning a “Dora Milaje”? I don’t know what that is, but I hope to see you both at the party.

           I promise we aren’t missing any limbs.



           Wanda smiled and picked up a mango when you folded the note and pushed it back into the sack. The red glow of her magic began to twirl around her fingers before the mango slowly levitated above her palm, her magic bunched around the bottom of the fruit as if holding it up before Wanda swiftly cut the mango into even slices. Wanda lowered the slices to the countertop and the red glow disappeared.

           “There is a reason knives exist, Wanda.” You gestured to the cutlery on the other side of the kitchen beside the stove. She rolled her eyes and took a bite of mango, a soft hum of contentment leaving her mouth.

           “Y/N?” Okoye’s voice carried from the living room and you stepped around the counter to lean against a column, seeing she had taken your dress out of the box.

           It was in a special bag but you could full well see the gorgeous gown. Your jaw went slack and Okoye had her brows raised in surprise, staring at the black dress that had glittering diamonds collected all around the neckline and shoulders, before they began to scatter and dissolve into the pure black of the sleeves and waistline. Knowing T’Challa, every single one of the diamonds was real and that dress was probably more expensive than one of Tony’s suits.

           “I believe the cat’s got your tongue, Y/N.” Wanda mumbled from behind you.

.  .  .

T’Challa’s Palace  |  8 Hours Later

           Okoye got out of the SUV first, standing by the door as Wanda slid out behind her. She was unsteady in her heels but she managed to hold her own, brushing her hands over the deep maroon-colored dress when she saw all the people making their way down the beautiful walkway and into the palace. You stepped out of the car and warily took post beside Wanda, fidgeting with the ring T’Challa had gifted you with that was placed on your right hand.

           “Don’t worry. The King make sure you in good hands.” Okoye reassured and it was amazing watching her change within an instant. At the villa she showed more expression and spoke quite often, but she had hardly said a full sentence in the car and now she wore a stoic demeanor. No one was going to touch you and Wanda, even if the both of you could hold your own.

           “Do you think Sam and Steve are here already?” Wanda asked softly as you both trailed behind Okoye towards the commotion.

           You pursed your lips and glanced around at your surroundings, the walkway separated from the gardens by a thick and neatly trimmed bush that acted much like a hedge. The air was scented with the perfume from the exotic flowers and was thick with humidity, something that you had gotten used to in six weeks.

           “We’ll have to see. I don’t want to draw attention and use my powers,” You replied.

           Wanda nodded and you both settled into an uneasy silence, hoping you wouldn’t run into Tony or Natasha whilst inside.

           The banquet hall was massive and brimming with important people, T’Challa’s Dora Milaje lingering in the shadows as elegantly dressed women. You knew Okoye had her necklace designed to be a weapon as well as an object of beauty, the jewelry made of vibranium that was shaped into looking like teeth. The King of Wakanda knew the real power behind women and that made him just that much more appealing to you.

           Wanda kept close to you, her uneasiness roiling off her in waves and you reached back and grasped her hand. Her eyes flickered to yours and a relieved smile graced her deep red lips. You could see her relax and you both managed to wedge yourselves into a place where the crowd had thinned, giving you air to breathe.

           Okoye moved to talk with another Dora Milaje a good distance away so you scanned the hall for any signs of Steve or Sam. You hadn’t seen any of your ex-team members either, which was a relief. That’s when you caught a glimpse of movement in the crowd, you saw everyone stepping out of the way of T’Challa and he was heading straight for you and Wanda.

           “I see Steve. Sam is next to him,” Wanda told you.

           You immediately turned to see where she was referring to in the crowd and sure enough they were there. The two soldiers were dressed in nice black and white suits, conversing with each other and holding glasses of whiskey in their hands. They weren’t the ones to go for wine.

           T’Challa finally reached you and he was dressed in a black-on-black suit and tie, evidently matching you. He held a flute of golden champagne in his fingers and he quickly took a sip before setting it on table nearby.

           Wanda excused herself, “I’m going to talk to Steve and Sam.” She slipped through the crowd and left you alone with the King of Wakanda.

           “You look like a queen, Y/N.” T’Challa said, reaching out for you to gingerly take his hand. He bent slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, running the pad of his thumb over your fingers. You couldn’t help the blush that tinged your cheeks at his words before you tugged your hand out of his careful warm grasp.

           You tried your best to bow in the dress that hugged your form and T’Challa grasped your arms. He straightened you up, before he smiled down at you. You met his eyes and lowered your voice, “T’Challa I know how you wish for me to treat you as my equal, but we are in your own home and surrounded by people who see you as a King. I think it is proper of me to bow.”

           “Umhle, you are supposed to take the hand of Royalty and kiss it. Bowing has been outdated for decades,” He chuckled and you sighed.

           “You are the only Royalty I’ve met so I wouldn’t know that.”

           T’Challa dropped his hands from your arms and opened his mouth to say something when you were both interrupted. He turned to reveal a middle-aged man who seemed to really need to speak with T’Challa, so the King of Wakanda bid you a swift farewell, before he followed the man to a group of business partners.

           You maneuvered your way through the crowd to the bar, but was stopped by a warm hand encircling your wrist. You immediately prepped in defense and whirled to face who it was. It wasn’t anyone you recognized but he was handsome and wearing a bright smile on his features. He dropped your wrist and stepped back.

           “I apologize if I startled you, but I had to know your name.” He admitted.

           You were hesitant as you said, “Oh, well I’m Y/N…”

           “It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” The man flirted and you sensed something off about him. You didn’t know if you were being paranoid but this didn’t seem right to you. The man looked around and offered, “May we go somewhere more private?”

           You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Uh, I was actually going to talk to my friends.”

           He stepped forward and you shied away from him, trying not to bump into the table behind you. The man lifted a hand and gently rest it on your hip causing you to flinch away from his touch. He tried grabbing your waist again and his voice astoundingly stayed calm, “I’m sure they can wait, Y/N. There is a table over here that we can talk at.”

           You weren’t really looking to knock someone out at this party and his hands always managed to grip your hips, no matter how many times you batted him away. The man came ever closer and you tried to look behind him for any sign of Steve or Sam, hell even Okoye. You let out a soft whimper escape your lips when he backed you into the table and slid his hands up your sides.

           Then, a hand wrapped around his shoulder and wrenched him off you. You caught a breath of relief and an arm snaked around your waist smoothly, tugging you into the solid warmth of someone’s side.

           A familiar accented voice was sharp and stabbing at the man, “Do not lay a hand on my woman again or you won’t get off with just a warning.”

           The man’s demeanor changed and he sneered, “How do I know you aren’t just pretending?”

           You glanced up at T’Challa and he narrowed his eyes at the man before he looked down at you. You were surprised when he captured your lips in a kiss and when his grip on your waist pulled you slightly closer, you relaxed into his figure. His mouth was gentle and passionate against yours, easily topping every kiss you’ve had before this because of how much pent-up emotion passed between the both of you. You kissed T’Challa back with just as much soft ferocity, resting your hands on his solid chest as his lips slightly worked against your own. He tasted like expensive wine and sweet champagne; something you would’ve never known you craved. T’Challa reluctantly pulled away and looked back at the man who was gawking at the sight of the King of Wakanda kissing a woman he realized was an Avenger.

           You were slightly dizzy and a euphoric smile graced your lips as you regained your breath. T’Challa cleared his throat and said, “I believe that was the proof you needed. I don’t want to see you ever again in my home.” His chest slightly caved as he exhaled slowly.

           Two Dora Milaje suddenly stepped up to the man and roughly grasped his arms, speaking in a harsh African tongue you couldn’t pinpoint. They drug the man away and Okoye appeared out of the crowd, eyeing you and T’Challa with a look of worry.

           “Everything okay?” Okoye asked you.

           T’Challa dropped his hand from your waist and his voice dropped to a scary octave. He accused Okoye, “You were supposed to keep watch of Y/N and Miss Maximoff. She could’ve been in serious danger if it wasn’t for me finding her, Okoye.”

           Okoye bowed her head. “My apologies, Your Highness. It w—”

           You cut her off, “No, T’Challa, it was my fault.” You stepped in front of him and he gazed down at you with widened eyes. “She was doing her job, but I didn’t tell her where I was going.” You looked back at the Dora Milaje and she was gazing at you in surprise. You sighed, “I understand if I am a reliability so it is okay to force me out of Wakanda.”

           “Umhle, I am not letting you leave Wakanda.” T’Challa’s eyes flared with an intensity that burned into you. He glanced at Okoye and dismissed her, “You may go.”

           Okoye shot you a thankful look before she turned and vanished into the crowd, leaving you with a frustrated King. You turned back to him and met his gaze, seeing the intensity had dissipated to leave an emotion you couldn’t discern. He raised a hand to brush the backs of his fingers against your cheek, causing your heartrate to steadily increase. You felt the cool metal of his father’s ring against the heated skin and T’Challa let his hand fall back to his side.

           “My father told me that the woman I would marry would not hesitate to go against my choices and would see me not as Royalty, but as a man who was equal to her.” T’Challa spoke carefully, his gaze dropping from yours as he recalled the memories.

           You slightly furrowed your brow and searched his face for what he meant, before he grasped your right hand. He lifted it up and brushed his thumb over the vibranium ring he had given to you, it was beautiful black ring that had a silver-colored design that was shaped into a wide arrow that stretched the span of the ring.

           T’Challa said, “He also told me to give this ring to that woman.”

           Your breath hitched and your gaze locked with his, realizing what he had meant.

.   .   .

           “Well, well, well. Looks like you’ve got Cat Costume wrapped around your finger, Y/N.” Sam chuckled as you took a seat at the circular dining table beside him. He lifted his glass of whiskey to his mouth and knocked the rest of it back, setting it back onto the white tablecloth.

           You shot him a dark look and stated, “Well, I’ve been in a jungle for six weeks and the only people I’ve seen is T’Challa, Wanda, and the Dora Milaje.”

           Steve straightened up in his chair at the mention of the Royal guards and he slightly furrowed his brow. He asked, “What is the Dora Milaje?

           Wanda was sipping on a glass of white wine before she quickly replied, “They are the women in the corners of the room with no hair. They are specially trained as warrior wives-to-be, but T’Challa only views them as bodyguards. We even have a Dora Milaje looking over us at the villa.”

           Steve nodded his head as he took in the information. He turned his head to look at one of the dark-skinned women standing next to a tall white marble column, her eyes immediately locking onto the table you were seated at and Steve immediately looked away.

           Sam let out a low whistle. “Damn, T’Challa definitely knows how to choose his bodyguards.”

           “Don’t even think about it, Sam.” You rolled your eyes, “They would eat you alive.”

           Sam shrugged his shoulders and continued to stare at the Dora Milaje woman. He tilted his head at you, “Doesn’t hurt to let a man dream, Y/N. I mean you’re the one kissing the damn King of Wakanda.”

           “That damn King of Wakanda would gladly eat you alive as well,” T’Challa’s voice came from behind you and Sam jumped in his seat. You all turned to see the man approach with Okoye at his side, he sat down in the open chair next to you. Okoye gracefully lowering herself into the remaining seat.

           Steve leaned forward onto his elbows and nodded at T’Challa. “Your Highness.”

           “Captain Rogers.” T’Challa greeted back.

           Steve looked around at the full table and said, “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to tell you about the HYDRA information we recovered.” He exchanged a look with Sam before the other soldier leaned forward.

           Sam said, “We’re going to have to pull Bucky out of cryostasis.”

           “Why?” Wanda asked.

           “Because he’s the only one who knows how to kill an active Winter Soldier.”

Read Before The Winter [Part 2]

Tagging: @writingbarnes, @pleasecallmecaptain, @currentlyavengerstrash, @positixe, @ltsaradharkness, @ek823, @bookchic20, @marvelfanuniverse, @queenieofasgard, @abbie-madeley, @sammskellington, @justareader, @kryloxen, @capsicle-fondues, and @infinitybarnes.

Jack hears you singing

Word count: 512

Request by: anon - Hi! Can I request a Jack/reader story where Jack hears the reader singing for the first time?

A/N: it’s short I know but I couldn’t think of anything else aha. Enjoy!

You stretched your arms above your head before promptly placing them back down on the frying pan below you. When you woke, you had decided that you were insanely hungry. Realising just how early it was you decided it would be a nice change for once to cook the boys some homemade breakfast since they rarely get to eat anything other than take out constantly and like Sam (and unlike Dean) you knew just how bad that could be for your health.

As you flipped the pancake you began to hum the small tune which had been stuck in your head the moment since you had woken up, little did you notice Jack had decided to walk in and take a seat down at the kitchen breakfast table when your hums slowly progressed to slightly singing.

“I got so sick of being on my own,

now the devil won’t leave me alone,

it’s almost like I found a friend,

who’s in it till the bitter end,”

You and Jack had slowly become best friends despite the fact that you had only known him for a couple weeks. The two of you would always stick up for one another and you didn’t care who his father was or how people thought he could possibly be evil because you knew the true Jack better than anyone else and you knew how much of an amazing and cute cinnamon roll he is.

“Turn off the lights turn off the li-“ as you got into the chorus of the song you spun around and almost had a heart attack seeing Jack sat calmly at the table watching you dance around the kitchen whilst cooking and listening to you sing.

You could feel as the heat rose quickly to your cheeks and embarrassment practically flooded your body.

“That was amazing Y/N!” Jack spoke with enthusiasm whilst you awkwardly stood trying to comprehend that he had heard you singing.

“Wh- How long have you been there?!” you spoke with shock.

“Oh! Since you started humming!”

You practically almost fainted at the anxiety that filled you due to the fact that you prided yourself on never letting anyone hear you sing, not even Sam or Dean and now the person you liked the most, the half archangel which you had developed a crush on had heard you blast music loudly and practically perform a song in front of him, the thought of it made you cringe.

“You’re voice is really pretty just like you”

Jack speaking broke you out of your internal panic and you were now shocked for another reason. He liked my singing? He thought I was pretty?!

“Perhaps you could sing to me again sometime?” He asked standing up.

“I er… yea- Yes! Sure!” you managed to stutter out.

Jack simply nodded his head at you, that large familiar smile wide across his face before exiting the room, leaving you stood behind in surprise.

Suddenly, you let out a giggle into the kitchen blushing at Jack’s compliment and pushing a loose piece of hair behind your ear before promptly turning back to cook the pancakes, the smile not leaving your face for the rest of the entire day.
TRAILER | The Great British Bake Off | Coming Soon On Channel 4
The Great British Bake Off, coming soon on Channel 4

Obviously this came out a week ago now, but hey I’ve been busy. My question for you all is this: what do you think of the advert? 

I think there are three options tbh, no matter what your thoughts on the channel change and shake up are:

1 - I think it’s cute and quirky and that song is definitely stuck in my head now

2 - I hate it, I hate everything about it, I’m going to go read a Mary Berry cook book and cry


In case anyone is wondering, I’m pretty squarely in the third option :P 

thatonerockerfreak  asked:

i'm from hawaii, my sisters are Samoan, and Moana makes me a special kind of emotional ok i love my island (even though living here is insanely hard sometimes) and my sisters are both so proud of their heritage now i love Moana

Your culture is very beautiful!! Those songs have been stuck in my head for a week now LMAOO 😂😂 Disney needs to make more movies with poc characters that embraces their culture and heritage,, this can create a very positive affect on the poc children who are watching.

Creepypasta #1213: Please Don't Walk On Unknown Trails

Length: Medium

For the past six months, I have started to obsess over a little trail I passed by on the way to church every Sunday. I know it seems odd that someone would become so obsessed over a trail, but it was mostly the build-up of curiosity. It was far too small for a car to enter, and the trail was just a combination of brown dirt and large rocks. Another thing that interested me about the trail was the same three cars parked right in front of the entrance to it. They never moved from where they stood.

I knew it was a dumb idea, but I just had to check it out. Today I left an hour earlier for church. That would give me more than enough time to check out the trail and get to church on time. I parked behind the other cars.

I took my phone, a pack of cigarettes, and my extra battery with me and walked up to the trail. This may sound weird, but the ground looked to be a bit off. The dirt was gray with a bluish tint, and all of the rocks were perfectly white. As soon as I stepped onto the trail I felt a rush of emotions.

I was suddenly hit with the need to cry, scream, and laugh. At the same time, I felt the absolute need to run. Confused and fearful, I unwillingly ran further down the trail.

I wanted to stop running, but it felt like my body was taken over. The trees started to surround me, but whenever I glanced down on the ground I could still see that I was on the trail. 

By the time I came to a stop there was only space for me and one other person to walk on the trail. I checked my phone, but my phone wouldn’t catch any sort of signal. I turned around and tried to run back to where I came from, but I could barely move. 

After three steps I couldn’t handle the struggle anymore. I got on my knees and tried to crawl, but I found myself laying on the ground only a couple of seconds later.

Regret was the only thing I felt at that point. I started to yell at myself, slammed my head on the ground, but nothing made me feel better. The only thing I could do now was to keep walking.

Keep reading


#stiles texting scott about derek probably (tag via raisesomehale; original post)

I saw this and I couldn’t help myself. The pick up line Derek uses is from this installment of the Stiles Pick Up Lines series by teamsciles. Bc it’s been stuck in my head as a go-to bad pick up line for at least a month now lol. Don’t ask why I have a go-to bad pick up line.

(Read on AO3) 

“Dude, no.”

“You haven’t seen him Scott,” Stiles tells his friend over the phone. He’s attempting to use his menu as a partition and peering around the edges conspicuously to make sure Unfairly Attractive Waiter isn’t lurking nearby. He looks as though he could be a lurker. But like…in a good way.

“I don’t have to see him to know that you’re about to get overly attached, completely bomb, and spend the next week on my couch with one of those extra-large pizzas from Antonio’s.”

“That seems like a hasty assumption,” he mutters under his breath.

“Allison is coming home tomorrow, Stiles. I can’t babysit you.”

“You should probably tone on the judginess right now. Allison has literally only been gone for three days, and you’ve been talking like you’re in the Sahara and she’s the last glass of water on the planet.” Stiles pushes the menu down flat onto the table and splays his hand across the center fold. “Also. I resent the implication that I am in need of a nanny when in distress.”

“You’re in need of a nanny on a good day,” Scott tells him flatly. “In distress, you need an entire daycare center.”

“Shit!” Stiles whispers harshly. “He’s coming back, bro. I gotta jet.”

“Stiles! Make sure you don’t say ‘gotta jet’ at any point in the conversation! Stil—”

Keep reading

Emo trinity band members as things heard in the band hall

Patrick: I have spotted my true love…he wears a purple cardboard fedora he probably ordered off amazon.

Pete: This is America, and I should be able to stand up in a bus

Joe: Even in death I can’t get a simple cheese quesadilla

Andy: Why does everyone keep sitting on me?


Dallon: I’m not the only horrible person on this bus. You’re here too.

Ryan: If you keep stepping on my shoes, I will step on your corpse.

Spencer: Really? We’re not allowed to ransack our teachers’ rooms?

Gerard: He’s been playing checkers for ten years now

Mikey: Why is there a rainbow lollipop stuck to the back of my shirt?


Frank: Don’t pat my head consolingly

Scarred Chapter 3

Hey all! I am so so so so sorry for all the delays. I’m writing as fast as I can but this chapter was difficult to write on top of finals and some major computer and internet issues around the house. However, I now have my laptop back so the next chapters should go back to being every three days or so. I’ll try to be consistent from here on out. As always thank you for your patience and continued interest in this fic. Its much appreciated. I love you all. 

Trigger Warnings: Self-harm, Panic attacks

Tag List:  
@softvirgil @romananalogicality @my-cat-is-cuter-than-me @greymane902 @giraffeanimal @bubblycricket @thebrightsilverlining @lilt886things @lizethemotherlycat @bat-to-da-robs @datonerougecookeh
@quesa-fucking-dilla @decaffeinatedpersonnel @lilbeanblr @helloisthisusernametaken @phanoflgbt @zodiac-awesome @pastel-princey @kenziecole-green @the-jo-writes-and-draws @allthefand0ms 
@draftydrawzz @fandomtrash1803 @aikogumi @sierraisnotreal @bloodropsblog (If you are missing from the tag list or would like to be added please shoot me an ask. Some tags were broken. 

By the end of the week, Logan had broken through a considerable amount of barriers Virgil had kept around him. He learned Virgil responded poorly to touch, that he was terrified of loud noises, and he never took his hoodie off, nor did he ever roll up his sleeves. This last bit of information was irritating to say the least. Logan wanted his answers and that hoodie was keeping them hostage. He would only need one look to prove his theory and the proof was so close yet impossible to attain.

An upside to his friendship and suspicions is that in this week, no marks had appeared on his arms which he was fairly proud of. If my soulmate truly is Virgil, he must be happy enough to not want to harm himself. Logan had begun putting all his thoughts and ideas in a notebook, slowly developing his feelings. He was definitely growing fond of Virgil, and he felt Virgil slowly becoming accustomed to him and his two friends. Patton wasn’t too overbearing and had already “adopted” Virgil while Roman had seemingly started a friendly rivalry with Virgil.  

Yes, life was going well for the foursome. Which was why Logan was considerably shocked and concerned  when three lines appeared on his arm, scabbed and angry. Logan shoved his covers to the floor and flipped on the light, examining his arm. This was no accident and Logan’s heart compressed in pain as he fumbled one handedly for his phone, unlocking the screen and calling the person he needed most. “Patton? I need help.”

Patton had driven them both out to the lakeside and parked along a viewing point. They sat on the hood of the car, both sporting pajama pants. Logan had wells of unshed tears in his eyes as he showed Patton the marks. “I swear it’s Virgil Patton. I never follow my gut but, I just knew the instant I walked into that class.” He sniffled and pulled his arm away. “How did you become aware that Roman was your soulmate?

Patton leaned back on his hands, glancing over at his friend with worry. “I just…I just knew kiddo. I felt an electric shock when I walked into the room and I felt someone calling out to me. Then the first time he approached us, the first time we locked eyes I felt complete. Is that how you feel with Virgil, kiddo?” He watches his friend’s reaction carefully.

Logan sighs, winding his arms around his knees. “I’m not sure. I don’t really do emotions, Patton. With Virgil I felt very similar to how you felt with Roman and yet, he doesn’t even seem to notice it Patton.” He looks at him with a mock glare. “This is exactly why I deal in facts instead of feelings. This is a horrendous mess.”

Patton pats his friend lightly on the back. “Lo, we’ve only known Virgil for a week and I hate to say this but a week doesn’t undo a lifetime of damage. If you want him to heal you just gotta stick by him.” He sighs.

“I suppose you’re correct. I just wish he shared this feeling that I do. That he’s….it for me. I didn’t get a sense of completeness like you did with Roman. I just felt like I needed to do something the moment I walked into the room, I needed to meet him.”

Patton frowned, his expression turning quizzical. “That’s strange. I’ve never gotten that feeling with Ro. But Logan, every soulmate is different and we haven’t even confirmed that he is your soulmate. Why don’t you work on one problem instead of 10? You’re not an android. You can only do so much.” Patton rubbed his back tentatively and to his surprise, Logan leans into it.

“It’s just agonizing. Like working on a thousand piece puzzle but missing most of the pieces. I do believe you’re right but I can’t bring myself to see if Virgil’s my soulmate. Because what if he’s not. You know I detest  being wrong with anything but this is my life Patton. I have to be right about who my soulmate is.” Logan felt his breathing stutter, coming from his lungs in uneven pants. Patton gripped his hands, talking calmly to him but Logan couldn’t focus. His mind swam with too many variables, too many memories to sort through and analyze.

“Logan!” Patton’s voice cut through and he sucked a breath into his lungs. “Logan are you okay? I need you to get out of your head kiddo. I’m here with you, by the lake. You’re not stuck in your head. You’re with me.”

“I’m…” He takes another minute, straightening the color of his pajama shirt and taking several more breaths. “I’m okay. I apologize for startling you Patton but I’m quite alright now.”

Patton looks at him, concern and fear in his eyes. “You don’t need to lie to me. Whatever that was, your moment of panic was not alright. We’ve only known Virgil a week, Logan. Why do you have this…obsession with your soulmate? You’re worrying me.”

“I can’t figure it out myself. I just need to figure this out. I have been worried for my soulmate for years Patton. You know this. It’s one of the few things I can be openly emotional about and I have spent the last three years waiting for them and now I believe to have found them and have almost no proof. I need to know Patton.” Logan shoves his glasses off, wiping at his eyes furiously. His emotions ran wild, a consequence of training his logical side was the lack of training he had in controlling his emotions. The few moments he seemed to need a control on them most was when they went haywire, he mused.

Taking several deep breaths, Logan slowly began to calm down. He looked to Patton, suddenly guilty despite doing no wrong, no harm. “I’m sorry for the disturbance Patton. I believe I’m okay now.” He ran his clammy hands down the length of his pajama pants as he waited for a response.

Patton turned to look at him, a small smile on his lips. “You never have to apologize for having emotions kiddo. It’s what makes you human. You okay for a hug?” as soon as Logan nodded, Patton drew him in for a tight hug, squeezing his midsection. “It’s all gonna be okay kiddo. We will figure out if he’s your soulmate. I promise.”

Logan warily returned the hug, his arms going around Patton’s shoulders. “Thank you for everything Patton. I am truly glad you’re my best friend.”

Patton giggled. “Yeah I am Pattonly amazing right kiddo?” He laughed harder as Logan groaned, dropping his head to Patton’s shoulder.

Everything would work out, Logan was sure of it. He just hoped things would work out soon.

I’m sorry for the shortness! However, I am considering writing a chapter 3.5 to give insight into Virgil’s mind. Please send me a message if that would be something you’re interested in.