Derek fiddled with the fragile pair of glasses Stiles had unofficially borrowed from Deaton after Allison had borrowed them without permission from her father. They were, according to Allison, a magical artifact that was somehow supposed to help the wearer to see the truth. As this would more than likely reveal werewolves without any guesswork, it was understandable that none of them wanted such an artifact in the hands of hunters, even one that had agreed to a tentative truce.
So now they were here, hiding at a diner Derek normally wouldn’t be caught dead at, looking for answers. Stiles was flipping through pages of a book he had also questionably borrowed, reading about curses and enchantments, so that they could tell if the glasses were even safe to put on at all.
“Wow, it’s like really unhelpful,” Stiles said around his mouthful of curly fries. He laid the book down and spun it so Derek could read, even though he said it aloud anyway. “Enchantments aid the intended user, curses aid the original caster. For example, a truth enchantment would reveal the truth to the user, where as a truth curse would force the user to reveal the truth to the caster.”
“How do you tell the difference, if you didn’t cast the spell?” Derek asked, glancing down at the flowing script.
“Exactly,” Stiles said, like he won an argument, even though for once they were not arguing. “It doesn’t say. I guess someone’s just going to have to, like, put them on.”
“Are you volunteering?” Derek asked, raising a brow.
“To test unknown magic on myself?” Stiles returned, then scoffed. Derek could see him shifting to get ready to make a grab for the glasses, so he moved them enough Stiles had to reconsider. “Oh, come on.”
“And what if they’re cursed?” Derek said, reasonably.
“Then you ask me embarrassing questions until I take them off,” Stiles answered immediately. He had thought about this, clearly. “They can’t be that dangerous if Chris didn’t lock them up.”
Derek relented with a sigh, because he really did not think that the glasses were actually harmful. And they did need to know what exactly they did. Stiles snatched them up greedily, unfolding the delicate arms with a grace he seemed to reserve only for magic, and slipped them onto his face. Derek couldn’t help the stray though zipping through his mind, that Stiles really did look cute in glasses.
“Oh,” Stiles said, small and big, when he looked at Derek. He swallowed, looking like he could see ghosts currently, and Derek figured that meant they’d been right. It would reveal werewolves.
“You’ve seen me wolf out,” Derek told him, holding out a hand to take the glasses.
“You love me,” Stiles said, hushed, and Derek’s blood ran cold as he looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.
Oh, no. No no no.
“What?” Derek said, mouth dry, mind tailspinning.
“You love me,” Stiles repeated, reverently, not looking away.
“Stiles, I…” Derek shook his head, not sure what he could even say. Of course he did. He had for a while, but he’d never intended to say a word. He’d never intended to ruin what they had going, like he had ruined so many other things.
Stiles snatched the glasses off his nose like they’d burned him, and if they hadn’t been sitting in a booth, he’d have knocked the chair and table over in his scramble to get to his feet. Derek pulled back a little when Stiles came at him with the glasses, but he froze when Stiles did, and then allowed Stiles to place the glasses on him, instead.
With a heavy whump, Stiles sat back down across from him, staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. Derek blinked once, twice, and then he suddenly understood how Stiles knew. He could see it there, plain as day, in the way Stiles looked at him. In the beat of his heart, in the catch of his breath, in the quirk of his smile. Nothing had really changed, Derek couldn’t see anything actually different about Stiles while looking through the glasses, but he knew.
Hi! Why do you think harry chose pink for his album? I don't think it's because "its rock&roll color" is it? In the french interview he said it MEANS something to him but hmm.... do you have any idea ?
I do have an idea. My answer involves a lot of speculation, so take it with a giant grain of salt. My quotes on the Quotidien interview is taken from this transcript. The video is here.
Stepping back a bit, I do feel conflicted about speculating on a question like this. As the interviewer said, millions of people (including me) dissect Harry’s every tic under a microscope. I don’t think I could be 100% consistent under that kind of scrutiny. Yes, he is a celebrity– and the promotion of his creative work inevitably involves revealing something of his personal life, so that his audience can feel more connected to him. Allowing access to stalkers is part of this strategy– to make him seem reachable, intimate, yet iconic and larger-than-life. They are loathsome and invasive. But they are also useful.
We’ve all been discussing the Harry Styles™ mystique: Harry’s quality of never being completely known or understood, his way of saying nothing while saying something and vice versa, his desire to separate his professional from his private life. This is why audiences are obsessed with whether he “presses the Instagram button with his own finger.” We want to eliminate a layer of uncertainty in the speculation, to know that we’re one circle closer to the real Harry Styles.
He’s mentioned that Sign of the Times has a personal meaning to him, but explains its meaning in vague, general terms. The lyrics, while seemingly personal and urgent, are not specific to a circumstance. We circle and hover, but never get closer.
I: You said to the Rolling Stone magazine that most of the album was inspired by a woman. Really?
H: No I think, honestly, the album is much more about me than it is about anyone else. I think if I said the album is about a woman it kind of feels like, I don’t know, I put a lot of work into this. I don’t feel like it involves around woman. It’s a lot about me and things I’ve never said before. It’s more about me.
It’s not about a woman. His first word is, “No.” Then he softens his statement by redirecting it to himself (personal life), then his hard work (professional life), things he’s never said before (a mixture of the two). In a Harry way, he circles the question back on itself– my music is about both me and my music. It’s a statement about nothing. But in saying that, it answers something– it’s not about women.
please elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious.
all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y'all the tale of Ms. Mormino.
Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t–I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher.
Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents–“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited– it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts.
We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day.
Most of our subs weren’t terrible–most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it)
That is, until Ms. Mormino came along.
Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!"
Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance.
The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. "I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl.
At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up.
We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything–anything at all–into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though.
Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy.
“I have a shoe."
Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected–the rest of us quickly followed suit.
A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem.
"Can I go to the bathroom?” asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway–Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that “administration will take care of him."
Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight–when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away.
A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she "really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door–leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside.
“Well, I’ll go myself,” the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone.
Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris.
Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind.
Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.
“I have to use the bathroom,” said Chris, standing.
"Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?“ snapped Ms. Mormino.
"It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded.
“Sit down,” Ms. Mormino growled.
Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter.
“It’s an emergency,” repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.
Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.
Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino.
And pissed right in his pants.
The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb.
We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided.
Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed:
"This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!“
A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.
"That’s what she said.”
Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.
You listened to Ed Sheeran’s new album ‘Divide’ and ate Crispy M&Ms, padding along behind Chris and Dodger as the three of you made your way up the Los Liones Trail to Parker Mesa Overlook. Chris chuckled when he glanced back at you because you were more engrossed with your chocolate than you were with the view. You weren’t much of a nature person, he knew that before he started dating you; it was something you made adamant on your first date. But you were the kind of person that tried for the ones you loved, even if you complained half the time. Chris was enjoying the moment now when you still had chocolate and weren’t all that tired, he knew it wouldn’t be long before you starting accusing him for trying to murder you.
“Babe,” Chris stopped in front of you and gestured for you to pull out your headphones; you did and raised your brows at him. “How are you doing?” He quizzed and you shrugged indifferently. “Do you need to take a break?”
“I’m good,” you shook your head. “But fair warning,” you held up your bag of chocolate, “I’m running low on M&Ms.” He chuckled and you bit back your smile, “I’m going to start complaining soon.” You looped your earpieces around your neck as he slipped his hand into yours, walking alongside you instead of in front of you. “Trust you to pick a seven mi-”
“Uh uh,” he cut you off, chuckling. “You still have chocolate, you can’t complain yet.” You tried not to smile as you squinted at him evilly; you pulled your hand out of his so you could continue eating your chocolate. “You really shouldn’t eat M&Ms while hiking, they’re not good for you.”
“Wrong,” you corrected him in a sing-song voice and he laughed. “Dean ate M&Ms while hiking and he killed a Wendigo.” You looked over at Chris, who was rolling his eyes. “So it sounds to me like M&Ms are the perfect hiking snack.”
“That’s a TV show, Y/N,” he countered in a weary tone.
“And you’re not really Captain America, Chris,” you retorted with a smirk.
“Touché,” he chuckled and you giggled, looping your arm with his and pressing a kiss on his jawline. “Do me a favor and keep your playful attitude when your chocolate runs out? It’ll make the next-” he checked his Fitbit, “five miles a lot easier.”
“We’ve only done two?!” You cried and he laughed. “It feels like we’ve been walking forever!” He pulled you along when you stopped walking. “Why are you trying to kill me, Chris?” You whined, stomping alongside him. “Ughhhhhhhh,” you groaned.
“Eat your chocolate,” he chuckled and you scrunched your nose at him, displaying your annoyance as you pulled your arm out of his and did as he suggested. “We’re nearly to the top. Once we get there we can just sit, relax, take a few photos, eat our lunch then make our way back down when we’re ready.”
“I’m ready now,” you told him with a cheeky grin.
“No you’re not,” he chuckled. “We have to get to the top.”
“Fine,” you huffed and plugged your earpieces back in, letting Ed Sheeran’s voice sooth you as you forced yourself to continue walking. You brushed past Chris and threw an M&M at him, making him and yourself laugh; Dodger followed behind you, his tail wagging excitedly; Chris, on the other hand, stood still and patted his back pocket where your engagement waiting eagerly to live on your finger. He was ready to propose now, but like he said, you needed to get to the top first.
• • • • • • • •
“I’m dying,” you dramatically wailed as you threw yourself on the picnic blanket Chris had laid down on the ground. He laughed as he unpacked the picnic lunch he made for the both of you, it consisted of kid foods: PB&J sandwiches, apple juice, orange slices, chocolate chip cookies, cheese and crackers. You sat up and raised an eyebrow at him. He just smiled and settled opposite you.
“You berated me for eating M&Ms and this is the healthy lunch you packed?” You laughed as you took a cookie from the box. “Here I was thinking we were going to eat quinoa, I’m so glad we’re eating kid food instead.”
“Kid food?” He chuckled as he poured himself a cup of juice.
“Yeah, the kind of food kids have.” You reached for a triangle cut PB&J sandwich. “When was the last time you ate something like this for lunch?” You quizzed then raised your eyebrows, prompting a continuation from him as you took a bite.
“As a kid,” he answered then laughed when you shot him an 'mm-hm’ look. “But you can’t just classify it as kid food, adults can have it too. You have PB&J sandwiches all the time, not for lunch- but you do have it quite often.”
“That’s 'cause I’m a kid,” you grinned at him and he chuckled. “It is beautiful up here.” You smiled at him then turned away to admire the view, whereas Chris’ eyes stayed locked on you as you were everything beautiful he needed to see. He slightly lifted his butt so he could pull the ring out, he took a deep breath as he held the ring in front of you.
“Not nearly as beautiful as the love of my life,” he said and you smiled and turned back to him. Your eyes widened and your lips parted when you saw what was in his hand. He got on one knee, smiling as he took your left hand in his. “I’ve spent the last two years with you fantasizing about this moment, and now that it’s actually here- I feel like I’m at a lost for words.”
“Chris,” you chuckled nervously, feeling your eyes fill with tears of joy and excitement.
“You are the love of my life, Y/N,” he told you with so much assertion, it made your heart ache. “There is no one I want to see out the rest of my days with, but you. I could even do this hiking thing with you complaining and whining for the rest of my life because all of that is just cute to me.”
“God, I hope we’re not hiking for the rest of our lives because- I don’t think I can do that,” you chuckled and he laughed.
“You are the best thing in my life and I’d be damned if I ever let you get away, so will you please marry me and spend the rest of our lives together?” He asked and you nodded, smiling till it reached your eyes. “Really?” He chuckled and quickly slid the ring on.
“What else did you expect me to say?” You laughed as he pulled you into a hug. “Of course it’s a yes, Chris. I love you,” you pulled away and cupped his face in your hands. “I love you so damn much.” He smiled and met your lips for the kiss you were offering. “If you didn’t know that from the way I force myself to come on your stupid hikes, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.” You teased him and he threw his head back, laughing.
Description: Reader tries to make Chris jealous by getting all up on Sebastian
Pairing: Jealous!Chris x Reader
Warnings: smut, the usual
There you were. Sitting at a bar, heavily flirting with Chris Evans and by some strange turn of events, chatting it up with multiple members of the Avengers cast. Of course you were thrilled to meet Scarlet, RDJ, Sebastian, and Hemsworth, but once you laid eyes on Evans you knew you were in deep shit. He was gorgeous, not to mention quite the flirt and a total sweetheart. Before you knew it he was leaning in close to you, one hand on your knee, his eyes staring into yours. Until, of course, he was yanked away by some friends. You sat at the bar contemplating your next move.
Notes: So this is my first reader fic. I decided to write this cause it Father’s Day!!!! Hope it lives up to your expectations. If you can, please please comment, reblog and message me about this fic or about anything else. Your thoughts and comments make my day :)
His mind was blank. Strangely empty of any and every sane thought. He was overthinking and not thinking at all. His head buzzed, heavy and tired with the activities of the day; His muscles ached underneath his skin and he repeated his movements over and over again - rinsing the dishes with water and placing them into the dishwasher. The sound of running water had filled his ears, their pounding force creating an almost relaxing rhythm in his mind.
Glancing upwards, he eyed the clock that said it was 12:23 pm. Good God. He’d been awake for almost 23 hours now. Placing the last spoon and glass into the dishwasher, Chris turned the knob in the center, punched a few buttons and switched off the lights as the dishwasher roared to life, breaking his trance like state; pushing him back into reality, one in which he was absolutely terrified and lost. Hopeless. His buzzed thoughts cleared out, making way for fear, anxiety, confusion, haste. He was barely conscious of his movements as he moved around the ground floor of his house, switching off lights, picking up stray tissues and shoes, placing the remote controls back into the shelf, folding the soft, blue blanket. Checking the back door one to ensure it was locked securely, Chris started his ascent towards you as his footsteps guided him up the rich, cream carpeted staircase.
He could feel the air thinning as he moved up, making it harder for him to breathe with each passing second. His shoulders felt strained, as though he’d carried a ton of weight on them and walked here. His feet stopped on their own accord when he reached the upstairs landing. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Chris walked towards your bedroom. Placing his hand on the door, he tentatively pushed it open, only to find that you weren’t there: the bed was empty; the bathroom door was open, no lights switched on. Sighing to himself, he turned to his right and walked a few steps to the door nearest to your bedroom. It was shut half-way, and he could barely hear a soft murmur from inside. Pushing the door open softly, he glanced inside, only to have the remaining few breaths left in his lungs snatched away.
There you were, in a corner of the small room, tucked into a large, comfortable armchair by the window. The room was airy, illuminated by the traces of sunlight that had managed to reach the window. Chris stared at you for a while, propping himself up on the doorway - because if he hadn’t? He was pretty sure he’d have fallen to his knees then and there. He’d seen you in a plethora of states. He’d seen you dolled-up, ready to head out for some party. He’d seen you fresh faced, without a trace of makeup, looking absolutely immaculate. He’s seen you in formal, red-carpet worthy dresses and sundresses and that gorgeous white wedding dress that you had hung in the back of the closet, neatly wrapped in a cloth cover. But this? He’s never seen you like this, looking so… serene. You sat in the sofa, covered by an old t-shirt of his and tights. But it wasn’t your carefree look, or your mussed hair that had caught his attention. No. It was your posture, your expression that caught his attention. It was what you held in your arms and the way you looked at it, that caught his attention.
Swaddled against your chest, Chris could barely make out the face of the little baby boy he knew was placed inside. Baby. Your baby. His baby. Our baby. Suddenly, he felt the urge to be there, beside you, looking over his son. He moved as quietly as he possibly could, coming to rest beside you, before dropping to his knees. You looked at him, your eyes connecting for a moment - a moment in which time seemed to halt. All Chris was aware of, was your beauty. How truly relaxed, calm and composed you looked. You shared a smile with him, eyes twinkling, before going back to your previous duty of simply staring and admiring your new baby. Chris leaned back a bit to observe you. You seemed… different. Not in a bad way, not in the slightest. No. You seemed changed. Gentler. Softer. Calmer. From the way you traced your baby boys’ cheek to the way you softly inhaled and exhaled, making sure to not disrupt your baby’s sleep. Your were so careful. Loving. And in that moment, Chris realized what had changed. You. You weren’t just his wife, or the spectacular professional that you were. No. Now you were a mother. The biggest role of them all. And it terrified him. He was scared. So fucking scared. His life wasn’t like usual dads. And he didn’t want to burden this tiny life now. Not ever.
He knew this was all real but he still had a hard time believing it. Come to think of it, just 4 years ago, when he hadn’t even met you, Chris had given up his dream of this life. Of a family that was his. And only his. But looking back at the two people he cherished most in the world, he couldn’t help the internal explosion of joy and love that had occurred. Never would he have thought he’d see this day. Him, married. Chris Evans, married and who now had a baby. A proper home, filled with various memoirs of your lives together: photographs and trinkets and even the curtains that you two had fought over for nearly 2 whole weeks. It all seemed so surreal, so…pure, that he didn’t know if he deserved all this. If he deserved you or that little bundle of joy.
Your hand weaving through his hair brought him back to reality. He looked up at you, wanting to say something but words failed him. You looked gorgeous. Simple as that. The scintillating, roaring fire that you were was now a softer, benevolent flame - one that provided comfort and warmth; protection and safety. Home. You were, are and will be his home. His source of truth. His faith even. You smiled again and moved to get up to place your baby in his bassinet. Chris watched your smooth movements, mesmerized by you once again.
“I love you y/n. I love you so much,” Chris spoke softly, forcing you to turn away from the bassinet and stare at him. “I… I want to say so much but… I can’t - I don’t know how to say it. You - you deserve to know how much I love you and how happy all this is making and I - I don’t know how to say all that I want to.”
You made your way over to him now, wrapping your arms around him, feeling the hard planes of his back that were so familiar to you. You smelled like flowers and baby powder, the scent making Chris lightheaded.
“You don’t have to say anything Chris. I know. I love you too.” you reminded him before reaching up to press your lips to his. Exhausted by the few days you’d had, you lay your head against his chest, maneuvering both of you so you could look at you baby again. Chris’ soft sighs and beating heart started to lull you to sleep. But you had one last thing to say to him.
“Happy father’s day Chris.”
And with that, all his anxiety, all his nervousness evaporated. It was real. All of it. No matter what happened in your lives, this moment, this joy was the only thing that mattered. He was a father, and as difficult as acceptance was right now, Chris knew he’d do anything to make sure he was a thumping good one. All around him, it seemed as though the grey faded; the white shone through, leaving behind pure elation - one in which you two basked in, feeling so proud and so so so very happy.
A/N: Here we go, here’s the finale. :D Thank you so much for showing all your love and support for this mini-series, I’ll be sure to inform you if I decide to write more for it. You can read the previous parts here: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4. This will be all added to my Masterlist but I’ll also be making one solely for this mini-series. I’m done yapping, enjoy. X
It was fifteen minutes till the wedding. Your wedding. You were in your beautiful wedding dress, a custom-made one by the designer you loved; Ellie Saab. You looked absolutely stunning, thanks to your talented prep team. You looked perfect and you were marrying the man of your dreams, so why could you still feel yourself on the verge of having a panic attack?
You forced yourself to breathe in and out as slowly as you could manage so you didn’t start to hyperventilate. It didn’t work, so you started to pace in your wedding dress; it wasn’t the best idea. Your best friend was too busy packing your honeymoon luggage, and your mother was too preoccupied with your flower girls- your niece and Chris’- to notice how badly you were trying not to freak out. You shook your head and mumbled to yourself, “I need some air.”
You were about to walk out the back door of your room and into the garden when you heard your brother’s voice enter. You turned to him and swallowed, shaking your head when he asked “you ready, kid?” His eyes narrowed in concern, like your mom’s and Luca’s; you had both their attention now.
“I um-” You shook your head again. “I’m not- I’m- um- I’m having a bit of a panic attack,” you let out a breathless chuckle that held limited humor. “I need some air, I need some air. Luca, get me some air,” you demanded as your hand wrapped around your amethyst clover necklace; you needed all the luck you could get.
“Hey hey.” Luca rushed to your side and put an arm around you. With the other, she grabbed your wrists; it was her ‘keep-Y/N-on-her-feet’ position. “You are fine, Y/N. It’s just nerves, you need to breathe. In and out, babe. In and out,” she instructed in a soothing tone.
“Outside,” you told her. “Take me outside.”
“Okay,” she obliged and steered you towards the patio exit, “let’s go.”
• • • • • • • •
The two of you stood in the garden, the fresh air and the chirping birds did well to calm you. You fiddled with your necklace then your engagement ring, smiling to yourself in reminiscent of how Chris proposed. You were sure about marrying him, you’d been sure about him long before marriage was even an idea. You knew your nerves had nothing to do with him, it was- well, you wished you knew.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Luca asked you; you tore your gaze from your beautiful ring and turned to her. “You and I both know this isn’t about Chris, so what’s the problem?” She asked, titling her head in concern and confusion.
“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I mean- I guess…At every wedding, there’s a chance of something bad happening. I don’t want anything bad to happen at ours,” you told her. “I just- what if I trip walking down the aisle or the food isn’t good or the band is horrendous and no one dances?” You rambled your irrational fears. “What if the paparazzi and reporters crash the party and ruins the day that- I’ve been trying for the last nine months to perfect? This is our wedding day, Luca. We only get one and it needs to be perfect,” you asserted.
“Y/N,” Luca chuckled softly; like Chris, she was used to your chronic overthinking and perfectionist ways. “You are about to marry the love of your life. Even if everything at your wedding goes wrong, you’re still going to leave it as Mrs. Y/N Evans. That is what’s important here, Chris- he is what’s important here. He loves you and he could not care less what happens as long as you say ‘I do’ at the alter. You could trip walking down the aisle and he will gladly pick you up and dust you off and marry you anyway because he loves you.”
“I know,” you managed a smile as your eyes welled with tears. “I’m just- I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”
“Tell me about it.” You heard Chris’ voice and flinched. You turned around and felt your lips part in awe at how handsome he looked in his black, custom-made suit from Versace. He watched you with a similar look, silently thanking the universe for you. “You look beautiful,” he breathed with a sickly sweet smile.
You looked down at yourself and smiled, then gasped when you realized your groom was seeing you before the wedding in your wedding dress and that was bad luck. “Oh my God, Chris. What are you doing?” You demanded and he chuckled softly. “You’re not meant to see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck.”
“I couldn’t resist.” He smiled at you then nodded at Luca who had decided to give the two of you some privacy by heading back inside. “Plus- Your mom told me that you were freaking out and I had to make sure you weren’t going to run out on me.”
You chuckled softly, fiddling with your engagement ring. “You are not the reason I’m freaking out.” You assured him with a smile. “In fact- you are the only thing I am sure about at this wedding. I don’t even know if French vanilla was the right choice for the cake anymore.”
“Oh, come on. French vanilla is the best choice for a wedding cake, we both tasted it and we both loved it.” He chuckled and walked across the garden to take your hands. “I think the dress you’re in can be another, you look like a Disney Princess.”
“You know it’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding, right?”
“Meh,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s such a dumb superstition, like seeing how beautiful you look before everyone else will ruin what we have. Nothing,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face. “Nothing will ever ruin what we have, Y/N.”
“I’m actually really glad to see you.” You admitted, chuckling nervously and wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled and slipped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You always know how to make me feel better.”
“I kind of have to, you’re going to be my wife soon.” He smiled and let out his own nervous chuckle; it was the good kind of nervous though, the excited kind that created butterflies in his stomach. “I gotta know how to take care of you, right?”
“You don’t happen to have a bag of Gummi Bears in your pocket, do you?”
“You know what.” He laughed and reached into his suit, you laughed as he pulled out a tiny packet of Gummi Bears. You felt your eyes well with tears of joy and excitement; you were about to marry the perfect man. “I figured you would need the distraction today, guess I was right.”
“You’re amazing, Christoper Evans.”
“I have to be to marry you.” He smiled and dipped his head to kiss you. “You’re going to be okay,” he assured you when he broke the kiss, much to your dismay; you could’ve just stayed with him in that garden forever. “And our wedding is going to be perfect, I promise.”
“I guess I’ll see you in there.” You told him and he nodded, pushing the bag of Gummi Bears into your hand. You chuckled softly and gave him another peck on his lips. “Thank you for this,” you held up the bag, smiling.
“Thank you for this,” he smiled and gestured to all of you; you blushed as your smile widened. “I’ll see you in there, Mrs. Evans.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek then hurried back in the direction he came.
• • • • • • • •
The music started and your father walked you down the aisle behind the wedding party. The entire time, your eyes were locked with Chris’. He smiled and patted his pocket, subtly informing you that he had another bag of Gummi Bears for you. You stifled a chuckle, your smile reaching your eyes; you were ready for this chapter of your life to begin.
“Take good care of her, Captain.” Your father told Chris as he gave you away; Chris nodded, his eyes never once leaving your face. “I love you, sweetheart.” Your father hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek before leaving you to Chris to join your mother on the sidelines.
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t trip?” You joked as the two of you joined the priest up at the alter. You heard Chris chuckle softly in response. “Are you sure about this?” You turned to him and he turned to meet your gaze. “'Cause we’re about to chain ourselves to each other for- the rest of our lives. You better be sure about this.”
“You say the stupidest things when you’re nervous,” he whispered softly into your head then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Can we skip all the extra stuff and get to the vows so I can just- marry this girl already?” He asked the priest and laughter erupted in the church. “I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he said and smiled at you.
“Let’s get to the vows then,” the priest nodded. “I believe the two of you wrote your own?” He asked, and both you and Chris nodded. “Shall we begin with you, Mr. Evans? Can we have the rings, please?” He gestured for Scott; Chris’ best man to come forth.
“Don’t screw up, bud.” Scott patted Chris on the back and passed the rings over. Chris rolled his eyes whereas you chuckled. “You look beautiful, Y/N.” He smiled at you then moved back to his original spot.
“Okay,” Chris took your left hand in his, ring positioned at the tip of your finger as he began to recite his vows. “I don’t want to go into the history of our relationship- even though every second I’ve had with you has been utterly amazing, but I have to talk about the beginning. Before I met you- I never understood the meaning of true love. I always thought that as long as you loved someone and things worked, you could spend the rest of your life with that person. I was-” he chuckled softly, “very wrong. Meeting you made me realize that there was a specific person for everyone and that you were mine.”
“Chris,” you smiled and felt the tears well in your eyes.
“You, Y/N, you-” He felt his own eyes water as he continued to recite the vows he had spent the last nine months working on. “You gave me a new perspective on love, you made me believe in the possibility of having a soul mate. I love you because you stand by me and love me through everything. My ups and downs, my insane work schedule, my stupidity.” He chuckled. “You take care of me when I’m sick, you pretend to share my diehard love for The Patriots even though we both know you hate sports.” Everyone laughed, including you and Chris. “You give me a sense of purpose in life, and that is to love you and be everything you’ll ever need; a husband, a father, a friend, Captain America- if need be. Now I won’t make promises I can’t keep, I won’t pretend like I’m as perfect as you paint me to be- but I will do my best to be the man you see me as.” He slipped the ring onto your finger. “I love you, Y/N.”
“And I thought I was the writer in the relationship,” you let out a breathless chuckle and Chris smiled. “Well, here goes.” You took his left hand in yours and positioned the ring at the tip of his finger. “Christopher Robert Evans, you are possibly the best person I will ever love in this lifetime or another, and I am so incredibly lucky to have met you. The only thing I could ask for now is that I’d met you earlier so I could spend more of my life with you but- that’s just being greedy,” you chuckled softly and he smiled. “You spoke of the beginning and I feel like I should too because you deserve to know that even before we met, you never once ceased to amaze me. With your kindness and your incredible talent and of course-” you giggled, “your dashing good looks. I loved you even before you knew my name and every day since you took me to Russo’s for our date, I have been living a fairytale that I don’t ever want to end.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” Chris chuckled softly, pulling his hand away from yours for a brief moment to brush away a tear gone rouge. You giggled and he smiled, placing his hand back in yours. “Okay, sorry. Continue,” he nodded.
“You make my busy life so much easier and my bad days so much better. You give me the sense of clarity and assurance I need when I get nervous and angsty about the tiniest things. You tell me things are going to be fine and then you do everything in your power to make sure it happens. You take care of me when I go out and party a little too hard-” The two of you laughed at that, remembering drunk you was what brought forth his proposal. “And make sure I always wake up to a hearty breakfast. You’re constantly challenging me, forcing me out of my comfort zone but never failing to make me feel safe. You keep our romance alive, you keep me so incredibly happy, and most of all- you love me even when I can’t love myself. You say you’re not as perfect as I paint you out to be but I disagree, you are every bit the man I see you as. Everything I am and everything good about me is you, Chris, and I am so ready to spend the rest of my life with you.” You slipped the ring onto his finger and smiled, “I love you.”
“I hereby pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said; the grin on yours and Chris’ face grew as the two of you prepared for the next part. “You may now kiss your bride,” the priest told Chris but his lips were already on yours.
Applause and cheers erupted throughout the church but your focus was only on your husband, just as his was on you. Chris broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours, smiling, with your face cupped in his hands. You smiled back, wrapping your hands tightly around his wrists.
Imagine – Taking over the wrestling world with The Shield
Word Count – 1,452
You got a call from Stephanie McMahon, asking you to come
into her office right away. Your heart was pounding, thoughts running through
your head nonstop. You told your best friend Sasha that you had to go, that
you’d meet up with her after Raw.
You walked into Stephanie’s office, seeing her sit there
with tons of papers in her hands looking focused, she looked up at you and
“Please y/n, have a seat.” You nodded and gave her a quiet
“Are you nervous?” She asked, watch your hands shake
“A..A little.” You chuckled nervously
“Well don’t be, cause you’re going to be the new womens
champion after tonight!” Your eyes got wide, jaw dropping to the floor. You ran
up and gave her a big bear hug, thanking her over and over again.
“And that’s not all… you and Charlotte will be the main
This all felt like a dream. It was very, VERY rare for women
wrestlers to main event anything. This was the biggest opportunity you’ve had
in your whole career. Not only will you be main eventing Raw, you’d be winning
the womens championship!
You walked down the hall with excitement, trying so hard not
to scream. You were heading to the makeup and hair room when you ran into your
best friends, Dean, Seth and Roman. You were best friends on screen and behind
“Hey y/n, how’s it shakin?” Dean smiled, giving you a fist
“You guys are not going to believe this, 1. I’m going to be
crowned the new womens champion! And 2.. ME AND CHARLOTTE ARE THE MAIN EVENT!”
They all gasped with excitement, giving you big hugs and
telling you how proud they are.
‘Oh.. oh y/n, we won’t be here to watch it live.” Seth
frowned, leaving Dean and Roman confused
“We won’t?” Dean asked
“No guys, remember we have a meeting…” Seth was up to
You frowned and nodded your head, heartbreaking knowing your
best friends won’t be on the other side waiting to congratulate you.
“We all have our things we need to do, it’s okay.” You fake
“We’re so sorry. We love you girlie, kick some ass out there
and I promise we’ll go and celebrate when we come back.” Roman said. They all
gave you another hug, then left.
When they got far enough to the point you weren’t in their
sight anymore Seth pulled Dean and Roman to the side.
“I thought we had a meeting?” Dean asked
“No! We’re going to surprise her.”
“Are you excited to be the champ?” One of the makeup ladies
asked as she applied your eyeshadow
“I’m really excited, I just wish my boys were here to
celebrate with me. They’ve been with me through it all, it’d only feel right if
they celebrated with me also.” Your eyes got watery
“Oh honey don’t cry! You’ll ruin your makeup, just think
about celebrating with them after. And besides, maybe their meeting will get
canceled and they’ll be able to come. Just try to think of the positives, think
about how they title will finally feel in your hands, around your waist.”
You smiled, thinking of how good it’ll feel when your
childhood dream finally comes true. You called your parents and friends from
home, letting them know to tune into Raw tonight for a surprise…
Your hair was straightened, you had beautiful makeup on and
your favorite gear on (whatever you’d like it to be). You were ready to go.
It was almost time. The butterflies in your stomach started
to kick in, from nervousness and excitement. As you were walking to the curtain
you passed Vince McMahon surprisingly.
“You deserve this, y/n. Congratulations.” He smiled, patting
your shoulder lightly, giving you a hug then walking off. Seconds later your
music hit, hearing the fans scream in excitement. This is it, this is really
You ran out with a smile on your face, spinning around with
your arms out, taking in the excitement. You walked down the ramp, making sure
too high five every fan you could. Next Charlotte came out, filling the arena
with boos. All you could look at was that title, thinking about how great it’s
going to look on your shelf and around your waist.
The match went on for thirty minutes. You could hear the
crowd chanting “Let’s go y/n!” *clap clap clap clap clap* throughout the whole
match along with “Y/n’s gonna kill you!”. At some point you and Charlotte
locked eye to eye as she yelled “You’ll never beat me! Never!” You punched her
in the nose, then locked in Chris Jericho’s “Lion Tamer” move, him giving you
permission earlier tonight that you could use it, and that it’d make him the
happiest if you did.
You had her locked in for about a minute, then she finally
tapped. The crowd went WILD! It was so loud you couldn’t hear a thing for a
minute, worrying you went deaf until you finally heard JoJo yell into the mic
“And your NEW WOMENS CHAMPION, Y/N!”
Your eyes filled with tears as you sat on your knees in the
middle of the ring, covering your face with your hands as you cried tears of
joy. Finally finding the feeling in your legs to stand up and hold the belt up
high, running up onto the top of the turnbuckle holding YOUR belt. You jumped
down, turned around and saw exactly who you wanted to see. Dean, Roman and
Seth. All three standing there with tears in their eyes with their belts with
them also. Seth and Roman with the tag team titles, Dean with his United States
title. They clapped, roman picking you up and putting you on his shoulders as
Seth stood on the left, Dean stood to the right and pointed at you while the
crowd chanted “You deserve it!”
As you were walking up Seth yelled into the camera “The
Shield, and our girl are taking over your world. So get used to it!” then
walked off, he was right.
You went back stage and everyone was standing there waiting
for you, clapping and giving you tons of hugs, handshakes and high fives.
You were walking through with the guys still by your side
when Triple H came up to you, eyes glassy with tears as he held your face and
“I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”
“Thank you, Hunter. That means the world to me coming from
you. You taught me everything I know.”
One of the social media workers grabbed you in for a photo
for Instagram, you were getting ready to pose when he stopped you.
“Dean, Seth, Roman? Can you join, please?” They all smiled,
running in and getting in position for the pic. You all held up your titles. He
took the photo and captioned it
“Taking over the world, one..by..one.”
After that and a few more photos you finally had some time
to sit down and let this all soak in. It didn’t really hit till your family
called you over FaceTime to congratulate you. You sat and talked with them for
a while then you had to go, leaving for the hotel in a few minutes.
After your call the boys came back in, helping you pack your
stuff while listening to Pandora. You sat down for a second and they noticed
you sniffling, running over to you right away. Dean kneeling in front of you,
holding your hands while Seth and Roman sat next to you.
“I’m so glad you guys made it. This moment wouldn’t of been
the same if you weren’t here.”
“We’re glad we made it too, honey.” Dean smiled softly
“But, what about the meeting?”
“Um… Well… There wasn’t one. We just wanted to surprise you
and make the moment even happier for you. I’m sorry if I made you upset.” Seth
frowned, realizing he hurt you.
You pulled him in for a hug, rubbing his back then knocking
his shoulder playfully hard. He grabbed it and rubbed it
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For nearly giving me a damn heart attack!” you both
laughed, then you hugged him again.
After that you all went back to the hotel. You needed your
rest, knowing tomorrow all you’re going to be doing is interview after
interview now that you’re the champ, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t of asked
for anything better. Your childhood dream finally came true, and best of all
you had your best friends with you through it all.
Magnusson has always had everything she ever wanted in her life, except
for one thing. The boyish charm of her brother’s childhood friend had
wrecked her poor heart and ruined her for any other guy – you can
trust her, she has tried. She could see the way he looked at
her, though she knew there were rules about not hitting on your best
friend’s little sister. Luckily for her, there were no restrictions
when it was the other way around.
Word count: 4.6k
A/N: THE END, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! There will be an epilogue but this is the last chapter!! It’s longer and it’s fluffier than usual (they fucking deserve it!!) so forgive me for all the mushy stuff, I hope y’all have a sweet tooth! I really like the last part, but I have doubts about the two previous ones (this doesn’t make sense before you read it, but the chapter is divided in three parts because there are two time jumps). Anyway, ENJOY and send me the love because I’m still sick and coughing and seeing double and I wrote this chapter despite it all :(
tonight?” Chris asked, plopping down on a bench next to William.
His friend was busy not looking at Noora, and failing.
planned so far,” Will answered, finally detaching his gaze from his
unofficial girlfriend – even though everybody knew already – and
looking at Chris. He couldn’t wait for his black eye to fade away so
he could finally turn the page and move on from the hectic last few
weeks. “Why are you asking?”
do.” He shrugged in an attempt to look relaxed but he was a bit
tense. “Mara asked me to come over tonight, I was hoping to get rid
of you,” Christoffer joked – he was dead serious though.
not amused and huffed in exasperation.
leaving you alone with my sister in my apartment so you can christian
every room,” he groaned.