reader gifts

Calming Confessions

Written for @falling-for-fandoms for donating to my Supernatural Seattle 2017 gift!

Pairing: Sam x Reader
Word Count: 4,359 (I got carried away, this won’t happen again)
Warnings:  angst, Dean’s an asshole, hurt!Reader, heartbreak, calm down sex, friends-to-lovers (kinda), swearing, fingering, rough sex, fluffy sex
Summary: Set in/around season 7 - Dean breaks the reader’s heart by going off with another woman. In retaliation, she finds comfort with Sam, who’s willing to do anything to make the reader happy.

The bartender set a short, round tumbler down on the bar and poured a stream of golden-brown liquid over two ice cubes. The frozen water tinkled against the side of the glass as Dean raised it to his lips, sending a flirty wink at the bartender as she walked away.

Immediately a pang of jealousy shot through your stomach. You liked Dean, romantically. The day before, the two of you had gotten drunk over a six-pack, and you’d (somewhat mistakenly) told him. To your surprise, he had assured you that he liked you back, and had even offered to seal the deal with a round of hot, steamy shower sex after Sam had left to get dinner.

This outing was supposed to be your first official date… and Dean was flirting with the tall, brunette bartender.

Keep reading

Imagine Chris surprising you and your daughter.

Author’s Note: Oh my God, how cute was the Gifted trailer?! ❤️

“Mama.” Your seven year old daughter, Olivia, looked up at you as the two of you walked home from the park with Dodger. “Do you think Daddy will be home for my birthday party tomorrow?” She asked, her big blue eyes filled with so much hope; they painfully reminded you of your husband’s, whom you hadn’t seen in almost four months thanks to his acting career.

“I don’t know, baby.” You gave her small hand a light squeeze. “Your daddy would love to spend tomorrow with you but his work keeps him very busy.” Olivia sighed but nodded understandingly. “Even if he misses it, know that he loves you very much.”

“I know that.” She looked up at you and smiled. “It’s okay, Mama. I understand.”

It broke your heart because your seven year old shouldn’t have to understand why her dad was missing yet another birthday. She should have been throwing a tantrum like she did when she turned five and you missed your a flight home from London because filming had taken longer than expected. Either she was growing up faster than most kids her age or she was just used to her A-List parents and their incredibly demanding jobs; being in the Hollywood industry meant occasionally missing family milestones.

‘We’ll celebrate again when Daddy gets back,“ you told her. "We’ll see it like you have two birthdays.” Her eyes lit up with excitement and she grinned. “Yup,” you nodded, confirming her suspicion. “That means double the presents too.”

“Yay!” She cheered excitedly. “C'mon Dodger, I’ll race you home!” She pulled her hand out of yours and sprinted ahead; Dodger yanked his leash out of your grip and ran after his master’s mini-me. “Dodger, wait for me!” You heard your child laugh as Dodger ran ahead of her.

You chuckled softly, following behind them. The two of them loved to race, but they usually only did it when the house was in near sight. You’d warned her about roads and cars, and stranger danger, so she always made sure it wasn’t much of a distance before she raced the pup home.

“I never get to beat you.” Olivia sat on the front porch with an adorable pout on her face. Dodger barked and jumped around her playfully, drawing laughter from her. “It’s okay, Dodger. I still love you,” she hugged him and nuzzled her small face into his fur.

“C'mon, you two.” You chuckled as you walked up the porch stairs and unlocked the door. “Let’s clean up and get ready for dinner.” Olivia and Dodger followed behind you inside the house. “You said you wanted to make some pizza, right?”

“Mm hm!” Olivia chirped, taking off her sneakers as you worked to lock the door. Your eyes narrowed at the brown boots sitting by the shoe rack; you were sure Chris had taken them with him, perhaps he took the other ones. “I love pizza, just like Daddy! If he were here, he’d be real excited for dinner too.”

“Yeah, he would be.” You nodded and held out your hand for her to take. “Let’s go wash our hands and then we can start making our pizza dough. What are you feeling like?” You asked as the two of you started to walk towards the kitchen. “Thin and crispy, thick and fluffy, deep di-” Before you could finish your sentence, your daughter pulled her hand out of your grip and sprinted towards the bearded man lying on your couch.

“Daddy!” She pounced on him, her tiny body landing knee first on his chest.

“Oh God.” He coughed then chuckled, wrapping his arm around her and sitting up. Olivia squealed excitedly as he rose to his feet, throwing her over his shoulder. “You’re growing fast, little one.” He lowered her back down onto his hip as he walked over to you. “Soon you’re going to be as tall and as beautiful as your mama.” He smiled at you and you smiled back, genuinely happy to see his handsome face. “Hey you,” he leaned forward and kissed you.

“Welcome home,” you pulled away to say then returned your lips to his.

“Bleh,” Olivia made a face then laughed when Chris broke the kiss to tickle her. “Stop, Daddy!” She squirmed in his arms then cupped his face in her small hands, forcing him to smile with her fingers. “We’re so glad to have you home.”

“And I’m glad to be home,” he grinned at her. “I couldn’t miss my little princess’s eighth birthday, and I definitely couldn’t miss pizza night.” He poked her side and she giggled, making his smile reach his eyes. “What are we thinking? Thick and fluffy with lots and lots of cheese?

"Yes, please!” She nodded in agreement. “What do you think, Mama?” The two of them turned to you with the same hopeful, pleading eyes. You chuckled; the two of them knew perfectly well it was hard enough for you to say no to one, let alone two.

“Like I have a say when it comes to the two of you,” you chuckled. “Fine, yes. Thick and fluffy with lots and lots of cheese.” Chris and Olivia glanced at each other, grinning happily. “I don’t care about any of that 'cause all I care about is that we’ve got you back home.” You admitted, walking into Chris’ open arm.

“Me too, sweetheart.” Chris kissed your hair. “Me too.”

Merry Christmas Bro

Here’s a short little story for today. Happy Holidays everyone! 

Summary: Reader reveals the presents she has been hiding for Christmas to her adopted brothers, Sam and Dean.

Warnings: Fluff

Tags: @the-third-winchester-warrior @winchesters-favorite-girl @jensen-jarpad @sister-winchester-imagines @lil-sister-winchester 

You waltz into the Bunker library confidently, going over what you had planned to say one more time. Your brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, sit at ease at the great wooden table, going through the many different Men of Letters documents, picking apart at what was absolutely necessary. Each has a bottle of beer in their hands. 

Sam looks up from his fat book. “What’s up Y/N?” 

“Drink?” Dean offers. 

“I’m good,” you reply. 

“Still underage, Dean,” Sam reminds his older brother. 

“I’m not a beer fan anyways.” 

Dean shrugs and turns back to turning pages. You take a deep breath and begin your mini speech. “Look, guys.” Both brothers’ heads turn to face you. “I know it’s not a big deal anymore like when we were kids, but here.” You pull out two wrapped packages with a grin. “I couldn’t resist. Merry Christmas.” 

Your brothers stare dumbfounded as they accept your offering. Sam predictably speaks up first. “Wow, Y/N. This is…you know you didn’t-” 

“Have to do this? Yeah,” you shrug with a big smile. “But I wanted to. You guys are my family and it’s Christmas, so I figured, what the heck.” You raise your eyebrow. “Well? They’re not going to magically open if you just stare at them!” 

Dean’s face finally splits into a smile as he tears through the wrapping paper you scavenged for earlier in the week. He places his shreddings on the Bunker table. “Awesome! Where’d you find this?” He chuckles as he holds his shiny new gun up to the light for a better view.

“My mum left me her hunting stash when she died. I thought you might like that beauty.” 

Dean gawks when an interesting marking comes into view. “Is this a-”

“Vintage 1943 Ithaca 1911? Yes, yes it is.”

“No way! Thanks Y/N!”

“Psh. Don’t mention it.”

“Then, can I mention this?” Sam holds up his unwrapped present: a thick book bound by leather with color tabs along the outside. “What is this anyway?” He asks, starting to flip through the pages carefully.

Somehow, the smile on your face stretches even bigger than before. You look at the your gift with pride, remembering all the secret hours you had spent on that particular project. “I made it,” you state proudly. “Inside that book is everything we know about every monster or whatever we’ve fought. I went through some Men of Letters stuff also. Consider it the Cliff Notes of the Bunker. Figured it might save some research time here and there. ”

Rather than verbally compliment you, Sam walks over to you, much to your surprise. He stretches his hulking bear arms out and pulls you in close for one of his moose-sized hugs. 

“Woah, what did I do for this?” You teasingly query through the muffling of his flannel shirt.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Sam rumpled the top of your head, messing up your hair.

“Hey, no Christmas noogies this year. We agreed!” You push away and swat at his arms. Dean laughs. Sam gives you one of those special smiles reserved for family.

“Uh…” Dean begins awkwardly, “We don’t have really anything for you…” He starts looking around for something as a literally last minute gift, but you wave him off.

“Guys, you being my family is a Christmas gift. You took me in when you didn’t have to and you’ve given the home of a lifetime. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count and that’s not because I can’t count very high.” You look into your brothers’ eyes proudly. “That’s a good enough present for me.”

“All right, you tear-jerker. Get over here.” Dean too, pulls you into a famous Winchester hug. 

You snuggle up to his leather jacket. “Merry Christmas bro.”

He strokes your messed up hair down. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he says with a soft smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

You stare up at Dean, an impish grin appearing. “Hey. No chick flick moments.”

“Unexpected Gifts” Part 1

A/N: This is the first part of my Christmas AU, starring Steve. It takes place before Civil War and after Winter Solider, but we’re gonna pretend Bucky didn’t run off to Romania and stayed and everyone gets along because dammit, this is Christmas, people. *deep breathe* enjoy love bugs! 

Tag List: @kissofvenom922, @shamvictoria11, @pleasecallmecaptain, @shut-it-tinman, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @widowvinter, @readingtoescape, @grass-is-not-green, @abbie-madeley, @canumoveyourseatup-no, @canikeepit-imkeepingit, @marvel-lucy, @feelmyroarrrr

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Natasha muttered in disbelief, arms crossed as she stood in your office doorway, shaking her head.

“You’d rather spend Christmas sad and alone than come with us to the mountains?” She questioned and you pushed your chair back slightly to gesture at your computer.

“I won’t be sad. I’ll be busy. I’ve got a lot of work to do, there’s no harm in doing it over the break, especially since the department downstairs refuses to look at my request,” you muttered, and Natasha tilted her head.

“Are you still trying to move headquarters?” She asked quietly. You glanced up and nodded silently, a sigh escaping Nat.

“No one thinks you’re a HYDRA agent, Y/N. Shield is gone and Tony isn’t gonna fire you because of a few disgruntled employees who’re just jealous of your rank, ” she murmured and you laughed humorlessly. “Yeah tell that to everyone on this floor. Brock was my brother, Nat. His actions reflected back on me, I need a new start.” You explained.

Natasha perched on the edge of your desk. “I understand, I guess. You could always tell Tony how you feel,” she offered. “No one would bother you then,” she pointed out and for a moment you were tempted to consider but quickly pushed the idea away.

You were an adult, you didn’t need Natasha, or anyone else, protecting you. “Thanks, Nat, but I need a scenery change anyway.” you shrugged and she grew silent for a moment, the sound of you typing away on your keyboard the only sound in the large office.

“Have you told Steve yet?” she asked suddenly and your fingers froze on the keyboard before you responded.

Keep reading

If I Could Find The Words

A/N: This is a gift for a very dear friend of mine, @birbs-and-the-bat. Happy early Valentine’s Day, Maru!!

Thank you @avengerdragoness for suggesting the idea I based this off of

He hadn’t thought it would be this hard.

Just some words, arranged in pretty little lines and always ending in rhymes, describing all the ways he loved you.

He had started trying months ago to find a way to express his feelings, but he couldn’t draw and making things with your hands is hard. Nothing was as perfect as he wanted it to be.

Finally, he decided to write. He bought a journal and decided to sit down and write down all his favorite things. All his memories and all the little things you do that makes him love you.

It was hard at first, coming up with what should be written.

He could fill an entire library with all your happy memories together, but the wording escaped him.

As with most stories, he decided to start with the day you met.

He wrote about looking across the way to see the girl with the h/c hair. When you turned his way, he couldn’t believe the galaxies trapped in your eyes. He wanted more than anything to spend the rest of his life exploring their depths. Time had almost stood still in that moment, the sun shining a bit brighter and the symphony of white noise fading into silence.

He had been afraid to speak to you, afraid of dragging you into the mess that was his life. But he couldn’t stay away. You were a like a magnet that drew him in, he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Your voice was music to his ears. The songs of angels couldn’t sound more heavenly than your laughter. He tried ever joke he had ever heard in his life to get you to giggle. He wished he had the sense of mind to record your voice so he would have it with him always, but you had a way of making him forget everything but you.

When your fingers brushed his for the first time, it was like he saw color for the first time. Everything snapped into focus. It was almost too much, but in the same moment he needed so much more. He wanted to hold you and feel your skin against his. To keep you safe and warm in his embrace and to shelter you from the harsh reality of the world.

When he learned how sweet and caring you were, he was struck again by unfair the world was. How in the hell had he met you? What god had decided to have mercy on him and let him spend time with you? Or had he angered one of them and was cursed to know and love you, but never know your love in return?

He convinced himself that your friendship was enough, so imagine his surprise when you told him you loved him. It had been a slip really, you hadn’t necessarily meant you were in love with him, you were but hadn’t meant to reveal so. But the look in his eyes after he heard those three words erased any fear from your heart and any doubt from your mind.

You didn’t think he noticed when times were a little tough. When school was a bit harder than usual and you were pushing yourself to do more. When you would stay up later and you would little bags underneath your beautiful eyes. But he did and he did everything he could to help you. He did all the chores without you asking and got you everything you reached for. There were many nights that you fell asleep studying and he would carry you to bed before marking the passage you were reading and carefully organizing your things so you could find them when you woke up.

Or maybe when the world wasn’t as bright as it used to be. When everything seemed gray and it was harder to move. He would hold you a bit longer than usual and make sure you were okay. He knew you wanted to feel better so he did everything he could to encourage you.

He wrote about all the reasons he loved you and all the ways he wanted to support you. He wrote everything he couldn’t say out loud and so much more. He described his favorite memories so that you could read them when you were feeling down and you needed a reminder that someone cared.

He described you through his eyes. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, your everything as best he could and even then he didn’t feel like he did you justice. He was frustrated and wanted to quit, but he had been working on this for so long that he felt like he needed to see it through.

So he did. He continued to write whenever he had time. Sometimes he would rush to his journal so that he could write down a memory before it could fade even the slightest bit.

“What are you writing?” Your sleepy voice whispered in his ear. He had heard you approaching, but hadn’t stopped his scribbling or turned to look at you, not even when your arms wrapped around his waist and your hair brushed over his shoulders.

“I’m writing about you.” He mimicked your quiet tone. “And I am writing about us.”

“Sounds incredibly boring.” You teased him before kissing the side of his head.

“Well thank you. Your faith in my skills is awe inspiring.” He said sardonically as he finished the final sentence. He laid down his pen and handed the notebook to you.

“For me?” You asked as took the book from his hands.

“For you.” He answered. “Let me know when you finish reading it. I have a couple questions for you.” He said, leaving you alone with his masterpiece.

You sat down and began to read. You read it faster than you have ever read anything in your life. The idea that he sat down and wrote all of this just for you was enough to bring you to tears.

When you finished, you obeyed his request and went to find him. You laid the book down on the table and then enveloped him in a hug. “Thank you.” You said, holding him close and kissing all over his face. “Now what was it you wanted to ask me?”

His smile was a bit nervous, but when he spoke his voice was steady. “Will you marry me?”


Title: Lingerie

Pairing: Lance Tucker x reader

Request: Hey 😊 Could I request one with Lance Tucker where the reader and him are in a relationship and he is away on a competition for a while and then he comes back earlier and surprises the reader with a gift, like new sexy lingerie he bought or Idk? 😏😊

A/n: I need opinion on this one, my first Lance Tucker smut, I don’t know if I’ll write another one? Another important thing is after this fic, i will not be writing for a while, maybe a week or a bit more, so as to take care of some personal family issues. Thank you for understanding

Warnings: NSFW, explicit Smut

Originally posted by heartfulloffandoms

Originally posted by maxinegunter

Your name: submit What is this?

You groaned, watching as the latest Jessica Jones episode rolled it’s credits. You pulled off your earphones, checking the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly eight at night, and it was only Tuesday. It was another damn week before your Olympian boyfriend’s competition ended. You cried out in frustration as it was another week without Lance or the mind blowing orgasms he was always sure to give you.

And that was when you heard it, the familiar sound of the door clicking open. You frowned, it couldn’t possibly be Lance, he told you last night over Skype that he still has another week to go before coming home. Could it be Hope? You remembered her visiting just a few days back. “Stupid fucking competition” you cursed, getting up from the bed and heading towards the hall, ready to greet Hope and another unproductive day of milkshakes and girl talk.

“Don’t you look sexy” you glanced up, squealing with joy and excitement as Lance stood at the door, his brown duffle bag in hand, and that smug smirk you had grown to love together with that man. “But you said another week, you fucking liar” you joked, pushing him as your boyfriend slid his hand down to your bare ass, squeezing the soft flesh.

“In my defence, I missed you” he replied, and picked up his duffle bag. “You just missed fucking me Tucker” you added, watching as he grinned, realizing where you were bringing this conversation to. “You missed my cock Angel?” He growled, licking his lips as you slid your hand down his chest, palming his half hard cock through his pants. “I want your cock Lance, please, I need it” you moaned, feeling him harden.

Keep reading

My Queen [Thranduil x Reader] [Explicit]

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fanfiction for “The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings”, and is not endorsed by the originator(s) of the work. All official characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement, offense, or solicitation is intended. This story has been written for entertainment value only. No profit is being made from this writing. Note, all original characters contained herein copyrighted to MoonofMorrigan.

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader (or his wife)

Author’s Note: I couldn’t ignore my own headcanon about King Thranduil’s wife anymore. So, ignore the movies concept of her being deceased. She is alive and well, and you, dear reader, are playing her part in this story. ^_~ Note elves celebrate the date of their conception so “birthdate” or “day of your birth” in this story refers to that. This story is also a gift for a friend of mine @miresgaleth  hope she, and you enjoy it. Feel free to reblog/retweet, like/kudos and/or comment if you wish.




For @miresgaleth.

Your hair was still dripping with water when you entered the chambers you shared with your husband. The air hit you as a cooling wind while you walked through the bath house to the royal bedchambers. You clutched at the thin white robe trimmed with gold which you had about your otherwise naked form.

When you entered you noted the barrenness of the room. It seemed strange to you. More to the point you noted your husband seated on the floor on a bed of furs in front of the fireplace, a goblet of wine in his hand. He peered into the orange flames as if transfixed. He had apparently been awaiting your return as there was another glass goblet sitting beside him full and untouched, beside it a plate of something. You couldn’t make it out. Quietly, you padded over to him in your bare feet, stopping only when you came to his side, and sat down. You knew he was aware of your presence even though he did not look at you.

You both sat silently for a moment, then he finally spoke just barely above a whisper, “I never dreamed this time would come. The time when we would leave these halls for the west.”

“You speak of it as if it is a time of mourning, not rejoicing. We have built our ships, and our beloved kin will go west with us. We will see Legolas once more, along with our other children. Does not that thought at least fill you with some joy?”

“Yes, of course my love,” he remarked with a nod of his head, “it is merely that we leave behind our memories of this place, and can never return to revisit them.” His voice became softer with his next words as he finally looked at you, “We will never make love in these chambers again…”

You can’t help the small smile that comes to your lips at these words. He looks away into the embers once more, then next to him at the unused goblet and the dish beside it. He takes the goblet into his hands and hands it to you with a gentle smile. Perhaps that little confession of what was on his mind embarrassed him a little? You can’t help giggling a little before you raise the cup to your lips. As you sip at it, he eyes you in a “oh don’t tease me manner” before turning his attention to the dish. He lifts it carefully to your eye view and you see upon it your favorite cakes and confections. You set your goblet down as you take in the different varieties of baked goods set on the small dish.

“I cannot give you much of a gift now, as any and all treasures that could buy such are on the ships already, but I wanted you to know I have not forgotten this is the anniversary of your birth.”

You take the delicate dish from his hand and pop one into your mouth, offering him one, which he denies with a gesture of his hand. As the sweetness melts on your tongue you cannot help admiring your husband’s profile, his throat, the flow of the silvery blonde hair about his strong shoulders… all of him. You always counted yourself among the luckiest of women to be the wife of this beautiful, kind, but strong king. The thought hits you once more, and you can’t help looking at him as you had when you first took interest in him as a woman. You set the dish down, and wait for him to turn his eyes upon you again. He does so a moment later and gives you a puzzled look.

“What is it?”

The smile upon your lips returns, you shake your head, and you watch a little more interested than you normally would be as he gives you a suspicious look, then tips the last of his wine to lips and downs it. You note the small bead of red liquid that tries to set itself on his perfect lips, which the tip of his tongue darts out to lick away before it strays. A tingling feeling shoots down into your belly making you clench your legs together a little more. It had been a while since either of you had any stirrings of amative feeling, or if he had, he didn’t attempt to follow through with it.

Perhaps his earlier musing was a hint?

You watch as he gets up with his goblet, stretches, then barefoot as well, heads to the wine table. He is clad in a matching robe to your own, and you know he obviously has nothing underneath the thin fabric of it either.

Well, even if it hadn’t been a hint, perhaps a little bit of wifely affection would help him at least stop being so melancholy? In fact, you remembered, the two of you were very fond of lovemaking before you had reared your children, even for a few years afterwards.

What better way to leave this place behind, and perhaps when they arrive begin a new life in the west? Perhaps you would welcome another child? Or perhaps not. But for tonight, as each moment passed and with each moment you watched him move in the familiar routines he had, you had to admit that it wasn’t exactly bearing a child that was on your mind, but rather the events that could lead to making one. However, your cycle was not near, so you knew you would not begin to nurture a life on this night. You just wanted to be as close as two beings could with him, to love him, and to make union with him.

“Perhaps I could comfort your spirit tonight dearest. Besides,” you began to slowly unhook the fastenings on your robe from the bottom up, stopping purposely just before you reached the last one which covered your bosom, and waited for him to turn back around, “I crave something far sweeter than cakes as your gift to me tonight.”

He turned around, a perplexed look on his face then realization and surprise a moment later when in perfect timing you unhook it and push your robe off your shoulders revealing your completely naked form to him.

You hear his breath catch in his throat, as he looks you up and down, with each pass his eyes make, they lingering longer on your body, and you recognize the desire beginning to glint in his eyes. His mouth opens to speak, but no words form when you purposely sit up a little taller pushing your breasts out more with the movement.

You hold your hand out to him in invitation. After setting his goblet back on the wine table he wastes no time in returning to you and taking it in his. He situates himself in front of you and slides his hands down your sides to your hips.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift then, or should I do it?” he asks as he leans in to kiss you.

“Well, what’s the fun of getting a gift if you do not get to undress it yourself?” you answer with a smirk. He returns it and lays a kiss on your cheek, and works his way to your earlobe, and after gently sucking on it, lays fluttering kisses along your neck. As he does this, you busy yourself with the lacings of his own robe and make short work of them. A moment later he is letting the fabric slide off his body with your gentle persuasion and you run your hands along the contours of his strong chest and shoulders before laying a kiss on his lips.

You both smile into it as you battle for the control and pleasure of the other’s lower lip, which you finally concede to him, and both of you gasp in the other’s mouth when you each plunge your tongues into the other’s warm mouth. You feel his hands wandering over you, a fleeting touch along your sides, a caress of the back of his fingers along the bottom of your breast before cupping it and running his fingers over the hardened nubs. You muse briefly as you run your own hands along his torso, and down his belly, and then grabbing and squeezing his buttocks, before running your hands back up his chest once more, how familiar, but pleasing he feels to your fingertips and to your lips as you kiss his neck and collarbone.

He trails his lips down your throat once more to one of your paps and takes it into his mouth. Gently, he sucks at it and runs the tip of his tongue over it in a rhythmic motion that sets your insides blazing. Once he releases it you scoot back on to the soft furs beneath you, raising your arms over your head, and stretching out your legs in front of you, him seated between them as he looks at you.

A soft smile is on his lips as he follows sync and lays on top of you, taking your lips in his and feverishly kissing you, which you return with relish. It isn’t long before you feel him dipping his hand between your legs, and gently rubbing your center point of pleasure. As he does this he moves down to your bosom and takes the nipple he left unattended in to his mouth. You begin start to feel the lovely waterfall of physical bliss begin to fall upon you with even more earnestness as he moves his hand and mouth in the same rhythm and pattern. Your hands tangle in his hair behind his neck and your lips fall on his warm shoulders with open mouth kisses that are cut short by your moans and sighs, until finally the waterfall becomes waves, and each one becomes stronger pulling you closer into the twilight of erotic heaven.

After the world focuses again, and you see him still attending to the areas he had already enticed such lovely pleasure from, you snake a shivering hand down his torso, his belly, and finally gently take hold of his hardened member. He gasps, a delightful sound to you, and stops working his wonderful rhythmic torture, his hands went to the furs sitting up, as you rub his phallus against you to tempt him into becoming one with you. Your insides ached for him. Your raw emotions begged for the closeness it would bring both of you. In these moments nothing and no one in the world exists save only the other.

Finally, as you look upon him, his eyes closed in pleasure and no doubt with the same raw emotional state you yourself had, you feel him slip inside of you. Your joined bodies start in a slow, beautifully agonizing rhythm, you perfectly timed with him, and slowly the thrusts become faster, more demanding, deeper.

It leaves you both moaning, whimpering, gasping, and finally, when the world falls away for both of you in your tidal wave of ecstasy, crying out in fulfillment, pleasure and joy.

As the last of the climaxes wears away, he collapses briefly on top of you, before finding strength to pull himself up just enough to kiss you tenderly and passionately on the lips. You both spend several moments affectionately kissing and continuing to touch the other in the sure way you both know would delight your partner.

As he is placing a kiss on your cheek, he asks with a hot breath in your ear, “How can you make me bear leaving here now?”

You look into his eyes which, though not sad, are flooded with emotion and love, “Because on our first night and day in our new home, I thought perhaps we could try to recount this night together, perhaps even make it… more memorable.” You finish with a knowing smile.

“I will trust you to guide me in that my queen.”

He laid another soft kiss on your lips then lifted himself off of you and settled beside you, gathering you in his arms as he did so. You hear him whisper just before his breathing became heavy with the sound of contented rest, “My beautiful queen…”

 The End


Merry Christmas @huntiingseason, hope this is what you were looking for, with love from your secret santa and fellow Aussie xx

Peter Parker x Reader, Soulmate AU

There’s a smallish public library a couple blocks down from where you live and it’s perfect for doing your holiday homework. Not many other students know about it, or if they do they just don’t use it, it’s very nearby and therefore very convenient, and the librarians who run it enforce the rule of total silence with an almost militant rigour, making it ideal for maximising your productivity.

The only reason you’ve left the cozy, Christmassy haven of your apartment for the silence of the library is because you know that motivating yourself to settle down and do your work after Christmas is going to be more practically impossible, so you gathered up your books and laptop and walked the few blocks to the library. The spot you favour during the school term is empty and you waste no time in spreading all of your things out over the table and plugging in your headphones, reaching for the nearest assignment. You’ve only been sat there for maybe twenty minutes when you’re aware of someone approaching in your peripheral vision and look up to see who it is. It’s a boy, about your age, laden down with a huge stack of books, not dissimilar to your own. He sits down nearby and gives you a small smile when you look over.

Another twenty or so minutes passes and then you feel him tentatively nudge your elbow to get your attention. He’s about to say something when the nearby librarian clears her throat sharply and looks pointedly over at the two of you. You supress an amused grin at the sheepish look on his face and you reach for your notebook, tearing out a page from the back to write on.


Would you mind if I borrowed your calculator quickly? Mine just ran out of battery

No problem. I don’t need it at the moment, just slide it back over when you’re done

You’re a life saver, thank you so much

You pass the calculator over to him, leaving the sheet of paper in between the two of you in case either of you needs to talk again. He gives you a grateful smile as he takes it and the two of you return to your work. It doesn’t take you too long to finish up the first assignment you reached for, and as you set it aside and try to decide what to work on next, you can’t help but to glance over at the boy sitting a few seats away. He has his headphones in and an adorable little frown of concentration as he pores over a remarkably dense looking physics text book, plugging long sequences of numbers into your calculator. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you reach for your literature assignment, because even though you had come to the library to be alone so you could get your work finished, he’s really cute. An hour later, you look up to see your calculator being slid back to you, along with the sheet of paper.

Thanks again

You give him a small smile as you put the calculator away. You look from the sheet of paper back to your literature assignment before deciding that you could do with a couple minutes break, so you pull the note page towards you instead of turning back to your Shakespeare.

No worries. That physics looks pretty intense. I’m Zara, by the way.

You push the note back to him and he scans it quickly before pulling a face and starting to write back.

Yeah, it’s pretty tough. Not exactly what I had in mind for my Christmas break but whatever. Not like I could tell my physics teacher that anyway. I’m Peter.

I’m basically on the same page as you for this lit assignment. Not at all what I wanted to be doing over break, but trying to get the message across to my teacher would not have gone well

The two of you exchange notes sporadically throughout the day, and you learn that Peter lives in Queens as well, but not as close to the library as you, he doesn’t have any pets, and his Aunt May makes the best gingerbread cake he’s ever had. You get him to help you with some of your chemistry and he asks you to proof read an essay draft he’s written, and passing the notes to avoid the wrath of the librarian feels like a bonding experience. His handwriting is scrawled and a little messy, as if written quickly, and every time he passes the paper back over to you, he gives you a crooked little half smile that brings heat to your cheeks. Looking at him makes you think of your soulmate tattoo, though you’re not sure why. His first words to you weren’t the same as the ones inked just below your collarbone-figured I should introduce myself properly-and even though the notes weren’t spoken, you’re pretty sure they still count as first words. Passing notes with Peter means you’re not quite as productive as you’d hoped you would be but the day is much more enjoyable than you had expected it would be.

It’s late afternoon by the time you start to pack up, loading your stacks of books into your bag before scrawling one last note to Peter.

Good luck with that essay, I’m sure you’ll do great on it. Merry Christmas.

You’re barely out the library doors when you hear them open again behind you, and you turn around to see Peter hurrying out after you, hastily shoving papers into his bag as he goes.

“Figured I should introduce myself for real,” he says, a little out of breath, but his words make you freeze, one hand flying to where your tattoo would be, hidden under your sweater.

“Seems like a good idea,” you say slowly, and you feel like there are sparks ricocheting through you as you see Peter tense up in response, his hand unconsciously going to tug at the cuff of his sweater.

“I’m-sorry-do you-is your tattoo-?” he asks, flushing as his gaze flicks from your face and away abruptly. It’s so endearing, you don’t try to bite back the fond smile spreading across your face as you reach up to pull the collar of your sweater to the side.

“Yeah, is yours-?” you say quietly and an almost disbelieving smile of his own pulls at the corners of his lips as he tugs up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo curling delicately over his inner forearm, extending it for you to read.

Seems like a good idea.

There’s a split second where you’re both frozen, unsure of what to do next, and then you’re pulling him in to hug him tightly. His arms go around your waist and you can hear his soft sigh of contentment as the two of you just stand like that for a moment, revelling in the new and yet somehow deeply familiar sense of completeness. After a couple seconds, Peter pulls back, reaching to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and holding it out to you.

“Could you-I mean-” he starts and stops again, a light flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’d really like to take you for coffee or something sometime-to talk, or-” You enter your phone number and pass the phone back to him, holding onto his hand for a second longer than you need to as you smile at him.

“I’d love that.” Impulsively, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, before pulling back and heading away down the street, cheeks warm as you glance back at him over your shoulder. “See you soon, Peter.”

George Weasley x Reader: Gifts

AN: It tisn’t the season but who doesn’t love the holidays? ;) I just want to say thank you for all of your patience! There should be another fic this week as well!

Request: Anonymous

Warnings: N/A

Christmas Eve at the Weasley’s was a magical, truly magical, event. Arthur would chop down a large tree from the forest off of Ottery St. Catchpole, and Charlie and Bill would help him drag it inside. Percy and Mrs. Weasley took great care in stringing the lights and decking the branches with ornaments and glittery tinsel. Bill would pull Ginny on his shoulders and she would place the star on top, while Ron brought out the gifts to place underneath the tree. The twins enchanted a toy train to huff and puff on the rug before the fireplace, and everyone was in high spirits as snow drifted in sheets in the yard.

Y/N had experienced this merriment once before, but it seemed to be just as special the next year. Afterall, she had started dating George on Christmas Eve and she looked forward to their private celebration on the rooftop at midnight. While sometimes she felt out of place, the Weasley’s always made her feel welcome and right at home. The bunch gathered around the supper table - all of the redheads, Hermione, Harry and Y/N included. Mrs. Weasley prepared a very succulent roast ham, as well as whipped potatoes, roasted chestnuts, and a lovely pecan pie. The room was filled with noise, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t filled with cheer.

“It looks delicious, Mrs. Weasley, really.” Y/N said, placing her napkin in her lap.

“Oh, thank you dear.” She replied, sitting down herself. “I do hope I made enough for everyone.”

Arthur Weasley was already three bites into his slice of ham. Always very intrigued with Y/N, for she came from a half muggle family, he started conversation right away.

“What is it that you called the game with the ball on the ground? And the kicking?” He asked, spitting bits of food about. Mrs. Weasley looked disgruntled.

“Football, Mr. Weasley. The Americans call it soccer. They have a world cup every few years, just like Quidditch.” Y/N replied.

“Yeah, dad. Y/N and her family got seats right next to the muggle Prime Minister!” Ron said, excitedly.

Y/N flushed a deep red.

“I-It was an h-honor.” She stammered. “I am grateful for that opportunity.”

Arthur smiled pleasantly, and went back to his food. Catching a knowing glance from Harry, Y/N’s eyes focused on her food. Y/N’s family was very wealthy, in contrast to the Weasley’s. While she knew that neither party had any qualms about the other, she didn’t like to flaunt her wealth. She thought that it was tacky.

“Next month you’re going to see the Weird Sisters in concert aren’t you, Y/N?” Bill asked, excitedly. “Fred said that you’d got backstage passes!”

Y/N almost choked on her potatoes, but swallowed quickly and dabbed at her lip with her napkin. All pairs of eyes at the table were on her.

“Y-Yes.” She said, quietly. “I feel very fortunate.”

Dinner progressed, and Y/N found herself saying very little. She hadn’t found a balance between being ashamed about her wealth and being too haughty. It seemed as though the differences between the families were shockingly obvious. Students at school who were particularly nasty would taunt George about it, and while he put on a brave face, Y/N knew he felt a little embarrassed. Her clothes were always brand new, in comparison to the Weasley’s hand-me-downs. Her potions equipment was bronzed, and her cauldron was top quality. Many of the Weasley children had to share equipment, and Ron’s cauldron was being held together by spell-o-tape.

After their meal was finished, Fred and Harry helped Mr. Weasley clean up the table, and Mrs. Weasley served the pie. Once everyone was full, they all sat by the fire and watched the train whistle. Gradually everyone slipped off to bed, except for George and Y/N.

“I’m almost ready to head out to the roof, I just have to put some finishing touches on your gift.” George said.

He hadn’t said much at dinner, refusing to make eye contact with Y/N after Ron and Bill’s display. He ate his food quietly, and seemed rather jumpy when Fred tried to coax a conversation out of him. Y/N worried she had said something to upset him, and that she had ruined their one-year anniversary. As he scampered up the stairwell, Y/N pulled out her gift to him.

It was wrapped very neatly, in red and white paper. Little holiday sayings littered the wrappings and they were enchanted to glow brightly in the dim lighting. The ribbon was curled expertly, and she had carefully scrawled his name on the tag in her best print: “Georgie <3”. She put it behind her back, and carefully climbed the staircase, ducking out the window to the roof.

George was having a minor nervous breakdown in him and Fred’s room. While Fred was in his underpants, flopped over on the bed and snoring peacefully, George rushed about the room, ruffling paper and craft supplies. He tried his best to dress up the gift, but no matter how hard he tried, it looked pathetic. The package was made of three different wrapping papers, spell-o-tape binding everything together. Multiple different Santa Clauses waved merrily at him, some in sleighs, some carrying sacks, and all bumping into each other from the wrapping job. George winced, hoping that the darkness of the night would work in his favor.

He crawled out onto the pitch of the house, and stopped dead in his tracks. Y/N was sitting, her legs dangling off of the side, and George was completely speechless. The stars looked like they sparkled in her y/h/c hair perfectly, but their shine was lackluster compared to her y/e/c eyes. They glimmered in the night like expensive jewels. When she turned to look at him, she smiled and his heart stopped completely. Y/N was the most fantastic girl in the world and his stomach trembled at what she would think of his gift.

“Georgie, open yours first!” Y/N said, excitedly shoving her package into his lap as soon as he sat down.

He chuckled, trying to relax his nerves, and ran a hand through his wild auburn hair. He held the package between his hands and Y/N snuggled into his arm. His brown eyes danced into half-moons with adoration at his lovely girlfriend. George opened the package very carefully, lifting up the tape in a way that did not rip the parchment. Y/N watched his every move with excitement.

When he finally got the wrapping off, he put the ribbon and paper to the side, saving it because he thought it was beautiful. There was a lump of shockingly green fabric. Curious, he tugged it upwards and the cloth unfurled. It was a jersey from the Irish National Quidditch Team, and for the second time that night he was speechless.

“Y/N… love…” He croaked, once he was able to get a word out.

“Look at the back Georgie!” She squealed with excitement.

He turned it around, and noticed a dark and messy scrawl on a bit of the back. His name was there, written along with a short note and a sloppy signature. George felt as if electricity was surging through his veins. He was so excited and at the same time so reluctant to give his gift to Y/N. She watched him very cautiously with bated breath, afraid that she had shamed him with her extravagant gift.

“It’s… Barry Ryan…” George murmured.

Y/N became limp. Was it the Keeper that he liked or was it one of the Chasers?

“Th-That’s your favorite right? Ryan’s the one you like?” She questioned, wanting to make sure.

“Yeah… he signed it… for me?” George said, exasperated.

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked.

“It’s… so perfect.” George said.

His cheeks were dusted with pink as he brought his gift from behind his back to show her. Y/N did indeed notice the wrapping, but she thought it couldn’t have been more perfect. It showed that George really tried to make it look presentable for her, and that he’d worked so very hard on it. She took it from him carefully, and exercised the same amount of caution that he did while opening it. Y/N placed every scrap of paper in a neat pile by her side, saving them.

Because she thought it was beautiful.

As she tore away piece by piece she slowly uncovered the present that was waiting for her. On the top was fabric as well. She unraveled it to find a beautiful white scarf, made out of very soft material. Below it was a small, leather bound book. The front was painted with wildflowers, and as she thumbed through it, she saw that most of the pages were blank and lined. The first few pages had been written in.

George had written her a love note and pasted in a photograph of the pair. In it, Y/N was sitting on George’s lap, smiling and chattering with their friends. His arms were wrapped around her, and he planted a kiss on her cheek, looking at her as if she was the most entrancing thing in the entire world.

Y/N was confused. Flourish and Blotts didn’t sell journals like this. Their journals were spiral bound, and made of much denser paper.

“Georgie…” Y/N said, softly.

George was ready to rip his hair from his head. She had gone to all of this trouble to get this signed for him and what had he gotten her? A bloody notebook and scarf.

“I know, it’s not much.” George said, pulling her into his lap. “And I’m really, really sorry. I took some odd jobs to try and save for something really nice, but…”

Y/N put her hand over his mouth.

“George, where did you get this notebook?” She asked.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“I, erm.” He seemed to not want to tell her.

She waited patiently, staring down at the cover in her hands.

“I made it.” He said. “I know you love to write. And-and I like to hear your poems and stories. So I bought the leather myself, and I… I… I painted the cover, and bound it as best as I could so nothing would fall out, and I know sometimes you’re timid about starting new things so I put a little note in there to encourage you.”

Y/N was still silent.

“And I know you’ve been eyeing that scarf in the window of Madame Malkin’s for weeks now, and I really hoped that you hadn’t gone in to buy it yet so I asked Madame Malkin to save it for me when I had the money to buy it.”

Y/N was filled to the brim with emotions, and tears started to drip from her eyes. George craned his neck to see what her expression was, and felt like his heart was stomped flat when he saw her crying.

“Oh, Y/N! Shh, shh love, I’m so SO sorry.” He said, hushing her and squeezing her tight. “I’m- I’m,”

“George this is the greatest gift I have ever gotten.” She said, quietly.

He stopped stuttering and held a look of confusion.

“Come again?” He said, blankly.

“No one has ever put this much thought into a gift for me before. George, I can’t believe you bought my favorite scarf, and the- the journal, it’s so wonderful. I love you so much, darling.” Y/N explained, tears of joy dropping wildly from her eyes.

George was so relieved he almost passed out – or passed away. He pulled Y/N back and kissed her firmly on the lips. She laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes, and the two watched the moon sail over the stars as they held each other close.


Originally posted by master-of-duct-tape

Can you do a Chris Evans imagine based off of the trailer for gifted? - anon

A/N- So I wasn’t sure if you meant something along the lines of the reader is cast alongside Chris, or like if the plot happened to Chris in real life with the reader as his niece or just someone he knew? So I went with the first xx

You had been working on the movie gifted for close to a month now and it was your dream cast, you all got along and clicked instantly at the first reading which meant that the chemistry on screen wasn’t forced and flowed naturally unlike other movies you had been apart of.

Everyone was lovely, McKenna was quick witted and despite her being a child and you an adult you often hung out together between scenes. It was hard to think about the fact that when the movie was over you wouldn’t be working with them all at the same time again, but if you were lucky you would get to work alongside at least some of them in the future.

Chris had become one of your closest friends on set, he was funny and caring and it was hard not to be friends with him. It was even harder to put aside your growing feelings for him, what ha started as an innocent crush had developed over the course of filming and it was really putting a bummer on your lifestyle because it seemed like everything reminded you of him.

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A Gift From Crowley

Reader thinks that no one cares about her birthday.

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and fluff

Word Count: 1,458


“Darling, I need your help with something.” The gravely yet smooth British voice of the demon you loved to hate and hated that you loved jolted you from your sleep.

“Dude! Get the fuck out of my room!” You shouted, as you turned on the light that sat on your bedside table and looked at the clock. 3:33. “How fucking fitting.” You mumbled as you tossed it back on the table; what a great way to start your birthday. Crowley stood next to your dresser, casually leaning against it as if he hadn’t woken you up in the middle of the night and you looked over at him.

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Fandom: Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji. 

For @mysticdaddies

Since I participated in the munchkin love valentine’s thingy, here’s one out of my two gifts for you, and I’m sorry if it’s short, but I hope you’ll enjoy it! 

Also, I apologize if I have any mistakes, English is not my first language. 



It had never happened this way before, and he had lived thousands of years. He was usually the one who swooned people here and then, not the other way.

And now he couldn’t believe himself. He was staring and he couldn’t keep his eyes off that goddess.

The first time he saw her, he had tried to play off how attracted he was by calling it witchcraft. But Sebastian knew the truth, it was impossible for a witch to swoon a demon of his caliber so easily, he knew it, they had tried that before. And, witches didn’t look as beautiful as she did.

Her big brown eyes hidden behind black rimmed glasses that reflected just how kind she was. He wondered how much her soft, small lips could take in, or how they would swell after a rough make out. Her long curly black locks of hair would surely be smooth to the touch… he wondered what she would do if he pulled it, just a bit. And don’t get the demon started on her skin. It was pale, and it looked soft as well, although it would surely look more beautiful with dark bruises all over it, especially around her neck. Love bites. Those would be a warning for the scum men whose gaze lingered for too long, and a repellent for those who dared and approached her.

If she was that beautiful – and she was – Sebastian couldn’t even begin to imagine the way her soul smelled. Even though he would never offer to devour her, at least… not in that way.

She came to every party the household hosted, but Sebastian never caught her name. Although he imagined it, a name that screamed kindness and beauty.

Sebastian couldn’t even keep himself on track. The more he thought about her, a mere human, the more he desired her. He wanted to keep her for himself and himself only.

He would love to wake up to the sight of her, smiling, overall just being happy. Although at night, it would be different.

He would make sure to own her. Have her begging, calling out his name, panting…

“-er. Mister…”

Someone was talking to him, and that brought him out of dream land.

“Was there something on my face?” A melodious voice said, and he looked down curse his height to stare at the previously named goddess, the woman he was just thinking about.

“Excuse me?” He had asked with a smirk, even though he was completely shocked in the inside.

The lady in front of him blushed a little bit, but managed to maintain her composure. “I asked if there was something in my face, you seemed to be staring at it earlier”.

He was one hell of a discreet butler, wasn’t he?

Sebastian’s smirk only grew, his eyes showing amusement and he took one of her hands with his. He couldn’t really feel them through the gloves, but he just knew that he was right, her skin was soft.

“Pardon me, lovely lady…” He had to lean down, but he placed a kiss in the back of her palm, watching as her cheeks grew redder. “I was just mesmerized by your beauty, may I say, it rivals one of a goddess. Actually, you are even more beautiful, miss”.

She giggled, covering her mouth with her other hand. “And your name is? After such a compliment, I just need to know it”. She winked.

“Sebastian Michaellis”, the name rolled out of his mouth easily. “I’m the head butler of the Phantomhive household, miss. And now, would you be so kind to tell me your name?”

“_____. And I’m a writer”. She smiled, and Sebastian hated them, but he swore she was an angel. Even though he knew perfectly well that she wasn’t.

Someone in the background, a munchkin, screamed, “And she’s one of the best writers that has ever existed!”

“A writer? That would mean you know how to handle a pen, right my lady?” He was teasing, maybe pushing things too far, but he wouldn’t allow her to go home on her own again. Not if he could avoid that.

Oh how much he would love it if things turned out the way he wanted. And demons rarely loved anything, they took and gave nothing in return. Love was a very rare emotion, and a taboo subject for most of the creatures down in hell. Sebastian had always considered himself as a part of that crowd, but maybe things were changing.

And again, it was all because of her.

“Of course I know, Sebastian, especially big ones”. Now it was her turn to smirk, and he noticed her placing her other hand in his chest, slowly and carefully pushing him towards the door that led to the hall.

Once they were out of sight, he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her against the wall with a small thud. His eyes glinted in pink, and he licked his lips.

“I don’t always do this, but tonight, you’re calling me master, _____”.

He stared as she trembled and shivered in his grip, her expression changing to one of anticipation.

What a naughty, naughty kitten…


Ciel Phantomhive complained the next morning about how someone seemed to be getting killed over the night, near his butler’s bedroom. And _____ laughed, shocking the young count and making him close and cover his eyes when he noticed just how many marks there were.

And there were a lot, placed exactly where the butler wanted them.

The Player


Summary: After many night of being woken up by your neighbor’s poor music skills, you finally decide to take matters into your own hands and teach the man how to play the piano.

Warnings: You should know by now, I swear like a sailor

Word count: 1656

A/N: This is one-shot is a birthday gift for my dear friend @the-silver-iris who is a great writer and an amazing human being. I LOVE YOU IRIS! I hope you had an amazing day today (and many more to come), and I’m lucky to have met someone as special and beautiful as you are. I hope you like this <3

Technically, it’s still the 8th (and, yes I made sure I had your time zone right so you would get this on your actual birthday). So enjoy!

Originally posted by pastel-rainclouds

You don’t know what time it is when you hear yet another thing slam against the walls of the apartment next door.

For over two weeks now, you’ve been living in your new apartment just outside of Brooklyn, and in that short period of time, you’ve had to deal with your annoying, loud neighbor. You’ve seen the guy only one time, as you were moving all your stuff into your apartment, but aside from the permanent scowl on his face, you haven’t seen much of him.

Hearing, however, is another thing. Almost every single day, without fail, there’s the sound of horrible piano music, followed by an eventual thud against the wall. This is something you probably wouldn’t have a problem with, if the guy were doing it at a decent hour, except that is still dark, and you’ve probably had only a couple of hours of sleep, but your nightstand clock shows that it’s barely one in the morning.

Pulling your very tired self from your bed and putting on a pair of slippers, you drag yourself through your apartment and to your neighbor’s front door, where the faint sound of a piano can be heard.

Knock! Knock!

Your hand bangs loudly against the wooden surface, effectively interrupting whoever is playing the piano. Patiently, you wait for the door to be opened, mentally going over your angry rant, but all coherent thoughts flee from your mind the second your neighbor opens his apartment door, the lights from inside his living room spilling out into the hall.

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no greater gift || cody christian

description: in which, one christmas in particular, the course of your lives are changed entirely

warnings: none

notes: this wasn’t requested, but it’s something i’ve had on my mind for a few weeks now, and finally got around to writing. it’s also my first christmas imagine of the season.  i may possibly do a part two, though i doubt it. you never know!!

There was no doubt in your mind that Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year. Ever since you were a little girl, you’d adored the season and held it very dear to your heart. 

This Christmas in particular was even more special and meaningful than all the rest. It was your first Christmas in your brand new house, the house you and Cody had worked so long and hard to finally get. 

It was your dream home, and you could hardly believe that you’d been blessed enough to be able to buy it. You felt like the luckiest person, and being able to share such a thing with someone you loved like no other made it all the more wonderful. 

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Hawkward - Avengers x Reader

Words: 1039
Pairing: Avengers x Reader (mainly clint and sam)
Featuring: Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers
Warnings: Swearing, there are s o m a n y p u n s
Requested by anon
Reader has the gift of flight (with or without wings, you choose) and hanging out with the Bird Bros! Constant bird puns optional.
Authors Note: you wanted puns, you got puns.

Avengers Masterlist. Masterlist.

“You think Clint would like these?” You asked Sam as you walked down the random store aisle with him. You went with Clint and Sam to get groceries for the facility, but Clint was the only one who seemed to actually be on task. You and Sam found yourself in the opposite side of the store, making jokes with whatever you found.

Sam nodded, completely serious. “Get them. Are there two more? We all need a matching pair,” Sam said and started to sift through the slippers on the shelf. Yes, the three of you needed matching bird slippers. You have rebranded the “Bird Bros” as the “Bird Buddies” as you were now a member of their all inclusive group since your owl-like-self fit the requirements.

“Why does he put up with us?” You asked Sam as you held the three pairs of slippers.

“I don’t know; I think he secretly finds it entertaining,” Sam offered. “We should probably find him-”

“Put the damn shoes down; we have work to do!” Clint’s voice walked up behind you.

You shot around and gave him a weird look. “I’m joking; these slippers are the best things I have ever seen. Is three enough? Should we get one for every person in the base, or just keep it exclusive?”

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