navy tux

Imagine skipping class with Chris. (Part B)

A/N: Part 3B! Oh God, I was going to wait till tomorrow but I’m just too excited! I’m really happy with how this one turned out. You can read the previous parts here: (Unexpected Reader - Part 1/Part 2/Part 3A) Enjoooooy! X

Burbank; that was where Chris took you after breakfast in the cute little corner bistro you loved so much. He took you all the way there to give you a tour of Marvel Studios as well as introduce you to some of the people from the industry you were dying to be apart of. He even managed to get you a quick meeting with the very busy Kevin Fiege, who- thanks to Chris- promised he’d give you a meeting when you graduated from UCLA; an offer to which you squealed at the second you thought Kevin was out of earshot. He wasn’t, and it explained why Chris Evans would go through so much trouble for a girl people said was, “just a fan he met an airport.” You were sweet and humble and passionate, and Kevin wouldn’t be surprised if months later he’d heard Chris ended up dating you. The two of you clearly had a lot of chemistry, and he wasn’t blind to the way Chris looked at you; it may have been subtle, but it was definitely a look of love.

Love.

A strange concept; love. It could either be the simplest of things, or the most complicated. Unfortunately for the two of you, it was the latter. Neither of you wanted to admit anything, due to fear of getting hurt. That was the thing about love, despite how wonderful it could make a person feel- there was also the chance of ruining an entire being. A wrong move, a poorly chosen word, bad timing- all of these were factors capable of tearing a soul in pieces.

Chris couldn’t do that to you, he couldn’t take away that light you carried despite how dark you thought you were. You were the kind of girl who still believed she could meet the love of her life in a coffee shop; who believed in love at first sight; who wanted to marry as soon as possible; who didn’t want to date casually; who was a hopeless romantic; who thought love was just like the movies. You had an incredibly innocent heart that he both wanted to force his way into, but also protect. He wanted you to have a lifetime of happiness, and he wasn’t yet sure if he could provide that for you. But God, he was starting to realize you were a girl he wasn’t going to get over easily. If he found out tomorrow you were going on a date with another man, he’d both be ecstatic and heartbroken.

Chris took his eyes off the road for a brief second to throw a glance your way. It’d been fifteen minutes since you got into the car, but you were still smiling at the pass hanging around your neck. He’d made it himself, and it had both your name and the phrase “VIP - Chris Evans’ Very Important Person” on it. You looked over at him as he turned back to the road, smiling when you saw him smile. You still couldn’t believe your luck; it’d been exactly forty-three days since you met Chris and you still couldn’t believe your luck. You woke with a smile on your face each morning- not just because of the ‘good morning’ texts he’d sent you, but because you woke knowing you had him in your life. It was a pretty freaking amazing feeling, one you hoped you’d never have to give up.

“Thank you for today, Chris.” You told him, smiling; he glanced at you and smiled back, nodding. “You’re right about it being worth my time, I couldn’t imagine spending today any other way. This has just been an absolute dream come true, honestly-” you cut yourself off, chuckling, “you’re the best, the absolute best.”

“It’s not over yet,” he threw another smile your way. “We’ve still got one more stop before we call it a day, and um-” he pulled his car to a stop; you looked out and saw the Dolby Theatre. “You might want to do a quick costume change.” He told you then got out of the car before you could question him further. “C'mon,” he called as he knocked on the back windshield.

You got out of the car and chuckled when you saw him hold up two dress bags. One held a navy blue tux, and the other held your old prom dress. “Where the hell did you get that from?” You laughed, taking the bag from him. “You didn’t break into my room while I was sleeping, did you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. “Ava did.” He told you and you chuckled. Of course Ava did, your best friend would do anything Chris asked her to because she too was a huge fan of his. You’d met her on Tumblr a few years ago, connecting through your love for Chris Evans and writing, and only recently met her in real life. She was yet another wonderful thing you needed to thank Chris for, because without him to write about- you would’ve never met Ava. “I told her about today and she offered her services.”

“Isn’t she a doll,” you bit sarcastically, then laughed when he did. “Are you serious about changing?” You quizzed and he nodded, walking towards the entrance as he draped the dress bag over his shoulder. “Oh come on,” you ran after him, “I don’t want to put on a gown!”

“You’re going to be very under dressed.” He pushed the door open and beckoned you in with his head. You stared at him, not saying anything or walking into anywhere. You huffed when he chuckled, “it’ll be fun, Y/N. Trust me,” he said with a smile that you’d never- in your forty-three days of knowing him- been able to say no to.

“Fine,” you sighed and stomped into the building. “Is there a bath-” You cut yourself off when he pointed you in the direction of the bathroom. “Just so you know, I might not even fit that dress.” You told him as you stomped towards the female bathroom like a pouty child; he followed behind you, chuckling softly. “I’m not as slim now as I was at my prom.”

“You still look great to me,” he told you and you felt heat rise to your cheeks. You bit back your smile as you glanced back at him. “Get dressed,” he instructed and you nodded, “then meet me at the stage.”

• • • • • • • •

Chris waited on the stage patiently for you, fiddling with his cuffs and sleeves. “I look ridiculous,” he heard your voice and looked up as you walked down the aisle towards the stage. His lips parted in awe, then formed into a smile as he appreciated how breathtaking you looked in your simple, but beautifully elegant, chiffon gown. “I mean-” you lifted your gown to display the sneakers you were wearing. “You could’ve at least got Ava to steal me some heels too,” you joked.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented as he walked down the steps to meet you; his heart beating as fast against his chest at the sight of you, as your heart was against your chest at the sight of him. “Now come on,” he held out his arm for you to take, “I want to show you something.”

“Like what?” You asked, letting him lead you on stage. “We’re already inside this amazing theatre, I mean- this is where they host the Oscars every year.” You pulled away from him to stroll the stage. “This place has held the talents of Meryl Streep and Denzel Washington and Martin Scorsese and Quentin Tarantino and-” You stopped when you realized Chris was smiling at you. “Of course,” you walked back over to him and poked his chest, “Chris Evans. A man who should have won Oscars upon Oscars by now.”

“As biased as you are, my number one fan,” he teased and you giggled, “I appreciate it. And yes,” he agreed as he looked around the place, smiling. “The theatre is amazing and I did bring you here to show you the interior. But-” he said and you turned to him, “I also brought you here to prepare you for your future.”

“And how are you preparing me for my future?”

“Come here,” he used his head to beckon you towards him. You walked over hesitantly then tensed when he moved behind you, gently grabbing your arms. “This is where you’re going to be one day,” he whispered into your ear, smiling. He was having trouble remembering what he’d planned to say to you because your perfume was incredibly intoxicating and all he could think of was kissing your neck. “You’re going to be standing up here, looking down at everyone you’d thought you’d only see on your screen, thanking them and your loved ones for taking a chance on you and supporting you to your first Oscar win.”

You smiled as you imagined what Chris was saying. It was almost like you could feel the Golden Statue in your hand; the weight and the sturdiness of it. You closed your eyes and looked up; it was like the heat of a thousand lights were kissing your skin. Your ears could hear the thundering applause and the cheers as the entire audience rose to their feet to give you the standing ovation you deserved. You’d look out into the crowd and smile; smile at the people you’d worked with, those who’d helped you get you the award. That was the dream, it’d always been the dream. Just like Chris was part of it, he was part of everything. Even as you closed your eyes to picture a scene where you just won an award of the highest honor, you saw him. You saw him in the crowd and you smiled because knowing him, having him believe in you the way he did, having him in your life- that all meant so much more to you than winning an award.

“I can’t wait to see you up here,” he told you as he released you from his grip. His hand forgot you were just a friend and not his girlfriend, and took it upon itself to brush your cascading hair over your shoulder. “You are going to go to amazing places, Y/N. I promise you that,” he said with so much sincerity that you felt your eyes well with tears.

“Oh God,” your voice quivered as you sniffled, trying your best not to start crying. Chris’ eyes narrowed as he gently wrapped his arm around your elbow to turn you towards him. “These are happy tears,” you quickly told him when you saw concern in his eyes. “I’m um-” you reached up to brush your tears away, but he beat you to it. “I’m just really touched that you believe in me.”

“Of course I do,” he smiled and lowered his hand to take your in his; he squeezed it gently. “You are incredibly talented, Y/N. I am so glad you decided to pursue screen writing because- God, it’d be a waste if you didn’t. You have a way with words that not many do, and I have no doubt that it’s going to take you up here one day.”

“Because of you,” you said and he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Because of you. With or without me, you were going to find your way here and I’m…” He trailed off, smiling at how beautiful you looked despite your teary eyes and runny nose. “I’m going to be standing in that audience applauding your incredible talent, and wishing that I’d one day be lucky enough to be able to direct or even act in one of your flawless pieces.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled because it was your only way to stop yourself from crying. He smiled and brushed the tears that had escaped off your cheeks. “Thank you, Chris,” you told him as you forced your way into his arms, hugging him tightly; he’d hugged you back without hesitation. “You have no idea how much all of this means to me.”

“You’re welcome.”

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Part 4A

Secrets can hurt // Conor Maynard imagine

Summary: You and Conor are dating, but the fans don’t know. When Conor takes someone else to an award show, everything goes wrong.

A/n: So I kind if got this idea from vintagesugg. I loved this imagine so much that I kind of wanted to use it myself. So check that out and I really hope you like it. There will probably be a part 2. This is my first imagine ever so if you have any tips or see some mistakes, please let me know! Xoxo

C/F/N = Conors friends name

Secrets can hurt

“Babe come here. I want to cuddle”, Conor whined. You and Conor have been dating for 3 months. It has been the time of your life. The only downfall? The fact that nobody, except the buttercream boys, knew about you. So anytime you and Conor wanted to hangout or go on a date, you had to sneak around. It happened more than once that you needed to hide during a date, just so his fans wouldn’t find out. Conor had asked you multiple times if you minded the hiding and you everytime you said it was fine. But the longer you dated, the more it started to bother you. But you weren’t going to tell Conor that, of course. It would feel like making him choose between his fans and you and you would never do that to him. So anytime you could be all cute and touchy with him, you would. Just like now. You lied your head and his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He started playing with your hair. These were the moments that made it all worth it. “I love you so fucking much Y/N. You know that right?”, Conor said. You smiled to yourself:“ Yes, I do know that. And I love you too”, you answered him. Suddenly he sat up, throwing you off of him. “What the hell was that for?”, you asked picking yourself up from the floor. “I completely forgot. I have an award show tomorrow and my manager said I had to bring a date. I need to find someone. Do you know anyone who’s free tomorrow?”. You felt your heart shrink. Did he really just ask that? You felt tear brimming in your eyes. “I don’t think I know anyone who’ll be free”, you responded quickly. You needed to get out of that room. Having Conor watch you break down was the last thing you both needed. “Oh well, I’ll just ask C/F/N then. Hey where’re you going?”. “I’m going to take a shower”, you said quickly before running up the stairs. You barely made it in the bathroom before you broke down. You sat there for an hour before coming out and going straight to bed.

*The next day*

You were woken up by Conor kissing your cheek. “Hey baby”, he whispered,“ I need to leave now. The car is here”. “Okay. Eventhouhg you don’t need it, good luck babe. I love you”. He smiled at you. “I love you too Y/N”. When he left, you got up and started to your day. You made breakfast, went to the gym, tidied a bit and before you knew it, it was award time. Jack had called you about an hour ago to ask you if he could come over. So now you’re both sat in front of the TV. Both of you were scrolling through social media. Suddenly you saw your boyfriend on the red carpet. He looked so good in his navy tux. He was matching with C/F/N. They looked beautiful together and that hurt you because it wasn’t you standing next to him. All the photographers and reporters were yelling at them. “Turn this way”, “Put your arm around her”, “How did you meet”, and of course the question you knew was coming: “Is she your new girlfriend Conor?“. Before Conor could open his mouth, C/F/N immediately answered:” Yes, we’re together and love each other very much". You were in shock. Why didn’t Conor say anything? Jack could see you were getting upset. “He didn’t say it Y/N. Don’t worry, he loves you”. “He didn’t deny it either”, you said a bit hurt. Jack put his arm around you. “You know he can’t say anything about you. He doesn’t want to choose between his fans and you”. “Of course I know that but it just annoys me sometimes”. Everyone had now gone on the red carpet and was taking their seats. The show started and you and Jack were both stressing out. Conors song ‘Are you sure’ was nominated for best song. As the show got to the end, you were shaking. “And now the winner for best song. And the winner is …. CONOR MAYNARD”. You and Jack both jumped up screaming. But all of that quickly stopped when you looked back at the TV and saw Conor. He had grabbed C/F/N and kissed her full on the mouth. 

anonymous asked:

Will you please write a drabble where Alec is a chauffeur and it is his job to "pick up" Magnus?! I think you would do an excellent job of that.

OK, here goes…..based on these pics. *deep breath*

Driving Him Insane

The flashing lights and the wall of media sound did their best to distract him as he walked the length of the red carpet, but not even the glamorous beauty clinging to his arm could pull his focus away from the man waiting for him at it’s end.  Tall, dark and impeccably dressed in a fitted charcoal suit that moulded itself to his impressively-built body, he stood with one hand behind his back, the other on the door of Magnus’ limo.  After four interminable hours of meet and greet at yet another premiere, the sight of his driver was more welcome than the fresh air outside the busy theatre.  The door was opened for them promptly and Magnus handed his date into the car, locking eyes briefly with a pair of hazel ones, before getting in himself.

As they pulled away from the noisy crowds, Magnus finally allowed himself to relax against the black leather interior, letting his head fall back and his eyelids close.  He felt his companion move closer, and waited for the inevitable attempt at seduction, that would inexplicably leave him cold. All week, as he’d been ferried between press junkets and radio stations, only one thing had stirred his blood. And that was the man who’d been assigned to deliver him safely to each event. They’d barely exchanged more than pleasantries during his time in New York, his schedule being run with almost military precision, but he’d got a name.  Alexander.  

Unbuttoning the jacket of his navy tux suit, he feels a pair of delicate hands already loosening his bow tie, whilst soft red lips at his ear make him an offer not many would turn down. But instead of his usual enthusiastic response, he opens his eyes to stare up at the barely-visible camera nestled in the ceiling, it’s green light telling him that he is being watched.  He remains impassive as quick fingers open up the neck of his crisp white dress shirt, and an eager mouth begins to kiss a trail along his jawline.  His attention is solely focused on the lens. On Alexander.

As mood music begins to fill the dim interior, Magnus’ lips twitch in amusement as he considers the possibility that his chauffeur wants a floor show.  Just hoping those eyes were fixed on him at this moment was making his heart race quicker, but imagining those capable hands touching parts of him still clothed made his throat suddenly dry.  He needed a drink.  But first things first.  

Without averting his gaze, he pressed the intercom.  “Miss Belcourt’s apartment please, Alexander.”

“Of course” came the expected reply.

Magnus covered the hand that was wandering lower over his stomach with one of his own, and brought it to his lips. “Camille, my dear, what do you say to a drink?”  Without waiting for a reply, but sure that he’d missed a sour look cross that beautiful face, he rose gracefully to sit closer to the well-stocked bar and fix them both a flute of champagne.  

With a sigh of resignation, she accepted her glass.  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Magnus.  Maybe next time you’re here, we can get a bite to eat?”  

“We shall,” he promised. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”  As they raised their glasses in a toast, the car drew to a stop outside their destination.  The doorman approached and Camille handed back the glass, untouched, with a request to keep it for next time, before exiting the car, blowing a kiss.

About to quaff both drinks, he was surprised when his driver lowered the privacy screen, to ask,  “Where can I take you, Mr Bane?”  

Pursing his lips and raising a suggestive brow, Magnus replied truthfully, “Anywhere you please, darling, but let’s have these drinks first!”  

“Not while I’m driving, sorry, ” he smiled.  The screen slid back into place and Magnus felt a stab of disappointment as the car pulled off.

Damn him. Always polite, always professional.  Magnus wanted to get under his skin, light a fire in those eyes that would spread to every part of that muscular body, and consume them both in the process.  And he only had tonight to make it happen, before his flight out in the morning.  There was no time for his usual charm offensive.  Taking a long sip of his drink, he was about to set the glasses down, when he realised the vehicle was coming to a halt.  Knowing it was too soon for him to be home, he knocked back the rest of his drink, intrigued as he listened to the object of his desire get out and approach his door.

He watched as Alexander climbed in, loosened his tie and took off his jacket, tossing it casually over the seat before working on his cuffs.

With a lopsided smile, he gestured at the glass that Magnus was still holding.  “Is that for me?”  Nodding, but rendered speechless, he held it out, but Alexander had other ideas.  Moving to kneel in front of him, he relieved him of his empty glass, setting it down, before covering Magnus’ hand over his own drink. Tipping it enough for him to taste the champagne, he then motioned for Magnus to do the same, but when it touched his lips, Alexander gently tilted it further, causing the liquid to trickle down his chin and throat.  Swiftly, he lapped at it with his tongue, tracing the spill with it’s tip until Magnus forgot how to breathe.  Only when confident fingers began making short work of releasing his burgeoning erection, did he remember to respond.

Taking great pleasure in messing up the perfectly styled mop, he grabbed a fistful of the dark hair, yanking it backwards and plundering the alcohol-kissed mouth that had opened on an amused gasp.  Alexander tasted every bit as good as he’d imagined, hot and sweet, letting Magnus take what he wanted, while those capable hands cupped him and massaged his throbbing shaft in slow spiralling strokes that were threatening to put a premature end to his fun.  Pulling back to drag some air into his lungs, he thrilled to see his normally well-groomed Adonis looking as undone as he felt, but there was always room for improvement, he thought, as he knocked back the last of the champagne and threw the glass.  

Reaching for Alexander’s shirt, he ripped it open, sending buttons flying but neither cared as Magnus ran desperate hands over the glorious chest hair that adorned the sculpted torso, fascinated by its rapid rise and fall and using his painted thumbnails to scratch circles around and over his nipples, forcing a pained laugh from the vision in front of him.

“Tell me, Alexander..” he rasped, “is this all part of the service, or do you consider it pro bono?”  He inhaled sharply as he was squeezed playfully.

Licking his lips slowly, Alexander increased the speed of his strokes, using the other hand to push him back against the leather.  “I’m pretty sure this will go down as perks of the job,”  he whispered with a wink, before taking him whole, his shoulders straining against the cotton as he worked the angle needed to bring Magnus closer to release.

Flinging his arms out along the back of the seat and bracing his feet against the floor, he let his head fall back in hedonistic pleasure, his eyes clouded with desire so strong that he knew he was going to pop his cork at any moment. As he felt the heat gathering, he hardly had time to give a warning of “Fuck!” before his Dom Perignon White Gold erupted in celebration, most of it though was caught by his thirsty handler, his sated smile an indication that the brand was to his liking.

As Magnus’ vision began to clear, the camera caught his eye again, but this time he noticed it was lit with both a green and a red light.  A thought occurred to him that brought a slow grin to his lips. Looking down at that angelic-looking face, was it really a stretch to imagine him being wicked enough to record them?  As that angel had the good grace to blush at the realisation that he’d been rumbled, Magnus leaned forward to give him a deep, slow kiss, his thumb tracing his cheekbone as he held his head with both hands.  

Smiling as he tapped the seat next to him, Magnus swapped places with Alexander, declaring, “Despite your taking a liberty with my appearance fee for this private performance, I do believe in payment for services rendered, and my driver has yet to be compensated for taking care of me during my stay here.”   Running his ringed fingers slowly up the inside of Casanova’s thighs, he cocked his head and asked, “Would payment in kind be acceptable?”

“Sure,” he replied, reaching to rip Magnus’ shirt open. “As long as this time, it’s payment in full.”

With a confident smirk, Magnus assured him, “I’ll even give you a generous tip.”

@blj2007

anonymous asked:

P looks like he's in a navy tux, Sharna girl, just grab that navy dress you wore dancing the waltz with Antonio and roll on up in that joint. I mean even though it's a ballroom dress it will prob look better than what most wear tonight. Join your man

👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

Perfect Fit

Just some totally useless fluff to soothe the inevitable pain of tonight

By the time he arrives to pick her up, she’s spent the last 2 and a half hours trying on clothes. They’d opted for a lunch date to avoid conflicts with work, but she wants to look nice seeing as he’d only ever seen her in tight, slinky dresses with dirty sneakers under them in order to attract and catch equally dirty scumbags. She’s just determined that the black heels and satin dress are entirely too formal for lunch at a cafe when the doorbell rings for the second time and she’s forced to face him, party attire and all. 

He’s wearing a suit. A goddamn suit and tie in the middle of the day, under his scruffy beard and sheepish expression. He should’ve worn a nice flannel or even a button down and jeans. Really anything other than the navy tux he’d smuggled from the back of Liam’s closet and painstakingly pressed the wrinkles out of. However the clock had struck 20 to 12:00 and he was too worried about her coming to her senses and canceling their lunch date to risk wasting any more time. So he showed up at Storybrooke apartments, looking like bloody James Bond with one sleeve slightly larger than the other. (A result of Liam’s unfortunate penchant for fidgeting). 

He’s wearing a suit and she’s wearing a dress and his sea blue eyes light up like the freaking Fourth of July when he sees her. He wrestles the single flattened rose from his pocket that he’d bought on an urge in the park, and painfully argued with himself over whether to give to her. She knocks over a pile of dirty plates trying to find a vase and he scratches behind his ear while trying to hide a smile at her nervous rambling. (”Where is that damn bowl for keeping flowers, what is it called again? I swear this is not like me, I’m usually much more organized”-She’s not, he’s seen her desk many many times at work). 

They never make it to the restaurant. She leans against him on the lilting subway ride, trying to hide the fact that she can only reach the handle on tiptoes. The moment their feet touch the park pathway, he spins her out and around to the tune of some far off park musician. Her heels catch on the gravel and his tie is flung backward over his shoulder and a good many people are making u-turns to avoid passing the entirely inappropriate for this time of day behavior of the couple. But neither care when he bends closer to muffle an expletive about her bloody death shoes stomping on him again and she answers with a giggle. Her laughter and his resulting smile brighter and warmer than the sun on their faces. 

And by the time they begin making their way home, the sky is oozing darkness and only a few question the attractive couple with their hands twined together and slow, leisurely stride. And when the boy with the black stud in his ear races to hold open the apartment door for the girl with the golden ponytail, not a single person wonders at their entering together. And when he brushes pretty, accented words across her bare shoulder, suit jacket hanging from a corner of the bed and her heels digging into his back, clothing is the last thing on either of their minds. 

Homecoming

Will had been going to C.H.B High school for only a matter of months, and he was already one of the most popular kids there. Tall and blonde, plays guitar, starter on the football team, he was the complete cliche of all popular guys. But it just wasn’t him. He was more down to Earth than he was thought to be. At his old school, before him and his family had moved to New York, he hadn’t been popular. Sure, everybody wanted to be his friend, but that was for his personality. Here he was untouchable. Only the football players were allowed to talk to him. Only the cheerleaders were allowed to look at him. He didn’t know who made the rules, but he hated them. Anytime he tried to befriend anyone they’d make an excuse to leave. It was seriously bumming him out.

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