#n3shama

[fightmewiatch]

Romance - 6 for Eddie Brock (Venom)

#6 - “How cheesy would it be if I kissed you right now?”

          At what point did your life become some kind of cheesy movie? 

         If you were ever asked that question, you would laugh at the person asking, and walk away. But right now, you were wondering if that was exactly what your life was becoming. 

         After what felt like the longest shift ever, you had gone to the bar down the road, barely settling onto your seat and ordering a beer when Eddie Brock himself had taken the seat beside you, flashing you a tired smile. It had been a while since you’d seen him, not since he was at the top of his game and reaching out to you when he found out you had information on your (piece of shit) landlord, who had less than zero regard for the life and safety of his tenants. You wouldn’t call yourselves friends, but you weren’t strangers, or enemies. You were more like friendly. 

“Been a while,” he chuckled, glancing towards the bartender as he spoke to a couple at the other end of the bar.

“A couple years,” you replied, sipping your beer as he fumbled through his pockets, frowning a bit at himself. “How’ve you been, Eddie?”

“Ah, y’know. Ups and downs, just…life. Shit.”

“What?”

“Forgot my wallet,” he admitted, shaking his head. You were feeling good, your long shift rolling off your back as you looked forward to a weekend without any responsibilities, so you smiled, motioning to your bottle as you nodded at the bartender. The second the bottle was placed in front of him, he looked at you, frowning. “You don’t hafta d-”

“And you didn’t have to take down my landlord. Consider this a late thank you.” With a chuckle, and a shake of his head, Eddie picked up the bottle, turning to clink it against yours, before taking a drink.

         One drink turned into two, into three, into four, the space between you filled with real conversation, catching up on the time lost and how life had thrown down cards for both of you, before you tossed down enough for the drinks plus a tip - you hoped, anyways, giggling and a little off balance as you leaned against Eddie on the way out of the bar. After exposing just how terrible your landlord was, the building you lived in, as well as a couple of others that he owned, were seized by the city, and then condemned after a thorough inspection of the properties. You had moved to a building that, as you walked with Eddie, you realized wasn’t too far from the place he’d landed when things had gone to hell for him a year ago. 

         Stumbling around the corner, and clutching a little tighter to his arm, you giggled, and then gasped, head falling back as the rain started falling, slowly splashing against your face and shoulders, before turning into a downpour. 

“Ah! I didn’ know it was supposed t’rain!” you squealed, as Eddie grabbed your hand and bolted down the sidewalk with you until you found an awning to a shop that was already closed, bodies falling back against the dark windows. 

“Shit…I think I left a window open.” You giggled, covering your mouth, as Eddie grinned over at you. You thought his eye twitched, lips ticking up and then down, before curling back up into a smile again, but with how hard the rain was falling, and the constant stream of headlights from passing cars, you brushed it off as a trick of the lights, instead leaning back against the glass as you sighed and shook your head. “What?”

“…nothing.”

“No, no,” Eddie chuckled. “I can see ya thinkin’ from over here. What’s goin’ on?”

“This…feels…like a scene in one of those cheesy chick flicks…you know? Two people who might have been friends bump into each other for the first time in at least two years, they catch up over drinks and leave together. Then they find out they’ve been living so close to each other for a year and never knew it. And then they get caught in the rain.” Eddie looked so amused as you blushed, turning to look out at the rain coating every surface it could get to, rushing down the busy street towards the drains like waterfalls. 

“Don’t usually watch those movies without reason. What happens after that?” he asked, smirking, as you scoffed, glancing back at him. 

“You say that like you’ve watched them, so I think you know what usually happens after that, and it’s always so freaking cheesy, or cliche, or with some stupid pun or some crap.” 

         Eddie laughed quietly, or, at least, softly enough to be mostly muffled by the rain, as he stepped beside you, leaning against the window as he faced you. You bit your lip before looking over, curious. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em. Hard to miss ‘em during the holidays, especially.” Your laugh was quiet, mostly a shake of your shoulders as you parted your lips, until he cleared his throat. “How cheesy would it be if I kissed you right now?” This time, your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening slightly as you looked at him. 

“Are you serious?” you murmured, but you weren’t angry. You’d be lying if you ever said you never considered kissing Eddie, wondered what those perfect pink lips would feel like against your own, but you genuinely figured it wasn’t ever going to be an option. 

         With a nod of his head, you didn’t waste another second, turning towards him and curling your fingers around the zipper of his leather jacket, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned in towards you. His breath fanned warm across your lips and face just before his lips covered yours. For a brief second, you were sure your heart stopped, before it slammed harshly against your ribs, your other hand slipping up to cup his face as your lips parted with his, his tongue flicking against yours. 

         The chill of the rain on the wind, was now comforting against your overheated skin as you curled against Eddie, maneuvering your arms around his shoulders as he pressed you against the glass display window of the darkened shop, his hands grasping your waist to pull you as close as possible. 

         Whimpering, you pulled back, his forehead pressing against yours as you shared staggered breaths until you could open your eyes and meet his blue green eyes, the color barely visible around his blown pupils. Panting softly, you tipped your head, lips grazing his once, twice, three times, before he pulled back, hands dragging over your arms until he had his fingers laced with yours.

“C’mon.” 

         The confusion was gone as quick as it came, as Eddie squeezed your hand, and smiled, before bolting out into the rain with you in tow, leading you the rest of the way to his building at a running pace. That realization warmed you from the inside, and as you followed Eddie through the lobby, up the steps, and down the hall to his apartment, his hands pulling you close and his mouth constantly pressing to your hand, your cheek, your lips, you were suddenly very glad for the long shift that led you to the bar.

[userlando]

I have this head canon that Tom loves calling his girl “kitten.” Both affectionately and when they’re being naughty. Also, she has a necklace of a heart that says “Taken” on it that he gifted to her. Just a lil reminder who she belongs to.

i’m personally not a big fan of the petname kitten but this just destroyed me and i don’t think i’ll recover ever again

[b-skarsgard]

I read an ask/response about Bill’s weight and how he may be dedicated enough to his craft to change his appearance. While I find the ambition wonderful, it concerns me a tiny bit. Some actors who’ve changed quite drastically for a role (i.e. Jared Leto, Matthew McConaughey, etc) have actually induced health issues because of it. I can only hope he’s doing it the safe way and is under the care of a nutritionist while doing it. But, on a lighter note, thin or thick, I’ll take him :)

yeah negative affects are something to worry about when doing that. i think he’s fine though in a fan photo when he was shooting Castle Rock in west virginia he was in a restaurant with a big protein shake bottle in his hand. so looks like he’s being responsible about it.

[enchantedbyhiddles]

@n3shama replied to your post “So apparently Russel Crowe and Matt Damon actively made sure that the...”

Wow. I mean, Crowe, I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve always felt that guy was an asshole of epic proportions. But Matt Damon? I’m shocked. And saddened. And infuriated. It’s amazing to see how many former actor favorites of mine have lost my admiration and respect because they’ve dealt with someone like Weinstein, with full knowledge of what they do. There are STILL actors who want to work with Woody Allen and I just can’t fathom why? If him being a pedophile isn’t enough, his films are shit. SMH

Well, Matt Damon owes his career to Weinstein. Good Will Hunting basically started his career and was a Miramax movie - like nearly all beloved 90s movies. Seriously, that studio made the careers of so many stars and every single person working in Hollywood was or is involved with Weinstein to some degree.

Being a man in power (Damon had Bourne and an Oscar, Crowe was huge as well) and defending him and making sure that people stay silent though is a totally different level of deplorable.

Hollywood is an incestuous playground. From the outside we see all the shit, from the inside they totally ignore it. They are co-dependent or at least tell themselves that.

[bluesfortheredj]

You pull the fabric of your t-shirt loose from the shallow folds that had formed on your abdomen from sitting down on the sofa and give a quick glance over to Ben to make sure he’s not looking your way. Men’s t-shirts were always more forgiving thanks to the straight cut fit and you always got a size bigger to make sure nothing clung to your skin, although the soft folds that occurred when you were sat down were still inevitable, and somehow still managed to swallow some fabric with them.

“You alright over there?” Ben asks after seeing you fidgeting from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, yeah, just getting comfortable,” you reply, purposefully smoothing the fabric down to hide the real shape of your body.

“Come here,” he smiles, opening up his arms for you to lay across the cushions and onto his lap, “then you’ll be really comfortable.”

You couldn’t resist a cuddle with Ben so waste no time in draping yourself along the sofa so that your head can rest on his thighs as you continue to watch the telly together, and Ben is quick to begin stroking your hair with one hand while the other rests on your side; his fingers circling the fabric of your t-shirt to not-so-subtly lift it until he reaches the hem.

“You’re tickling,” you mumble sleepily.

“No I’m not,” Ben smiles down at you.

You grab the blanket from the arm of the couch and quickly shake it out to put over your body, purposely moving his hand out of the way so you can cover the small part of skin that was now exposed, and he frowns when he places his hand back down.

“I’m cold,” you sigh.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Ben replies quietly.

You let your hair fall across your cheek so you can cover your face from his gaze after his comment and although you know he didn’t mean it in a harsh way it still upset you. It was all your own doing to be honest, you had serious issues with how you looked due to your weight and had already used every excuse under the sun more than once whenever you and Ben got intimate. There were only so many times you could say the room was cold so you could cover your body with the duvet, and there was also a limit on how much you could use the ‘it’ll be romantic’ line when it came to turning off the lights so the room was pitch black. You’d already run out of excuses for keeping a t-shirt on the entire time.

“I’m going to go to bed actually,” you say after a couple of minutes, throwing off the blanket and tugging your top down to cover yourself, “night darling.”

You lean over to press your lips to his and he’s quick to turn it into a hungry kiss between the two of you, leaving you wanting so much more but feeling unable to do anything about it.

“Sorry,” you exhale as you break away from him reluctantly, “I’m tired. I’ll see you up there in a bit.”

You make a hasty exit and practically run up the stairs away from him only to throw yourself onto the bed in a heap of guilt.

“Urgh,” you groan as you roll onto your back and get your phone out.

Instagram had been both a place of refuge and torture for you; on the one hand you had the fleeting confidence boosters from the body positive figures that you followed who bared every curve and dimple to help you believe for a few seconds that you could one day be like them, and on the other hand there were the comments on posts of Ben’s that featured you in which some fans had compared you to a whale.

You wanted so desperately to treat your body with kindness, to be able to place a hand on your stomach and thank it for all that it does despite its size, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a thing and all you saw was this pouch of fat that hung down way too low on your body and made you look like a lumpy sack of potatoes most of the time. You place your phone face down on the bedside table before wriggling underneath the covers and letting out a huff as you throw your head back on the pillow.

“Is it me?” Ben asks from the doorway, making you jump.

“Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!” you gasp as you sit yourself up a little.

“Sorry,” he mutters quietly, “but is it me?”

“Is what you?”

“Am I the reason you want to stay hidden when we have sex? Do you not trust me?”

“What…? Of course I trust you!”

“Then why?” he asks sadly as he walks over to the bed and sits on his side with his head hanging down, “I love all of you, and I desperately want to show you that.”

“It’s… I just…” you stutter, unable to find the right words, “for fuck’s sake I’m fucking fat, Ben. I don’t want you to see my stomach wobbling like a huge jelly every time we have sex, I don’t want you seeing my flabby skin shuddering each time you…” you let out a deep sigh and shake your head as you begin to cry, “I don’t even want to see it, so why would I put you through such a disgusting sight?”

“A disgusting sight? Is that truly what you think?” he asks with a mixture of sadness and anger in his eyes at you being so hard on yourself, “please tell me you don’t think that,” he adds in a whisper.

“It’s true,” you shrug, “people aren’t being mean when they compare to a beached whale, it’s just a realistic observation.”

“Realistic…?” he trails off as the anger inside him builds, “you are fucking joking me! Don’t you dare say such things! Don’t you fucking dare!”

He takes a deep breath while you stare at him with tear stained cheeks and his body visibly relaxes before he crawls under the covers with you and takes you in his arms as he kisses the top of your head softly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for shouting, I just… I can’t stand the thought of you thinking these things about yourself. Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I wanted to pretend these thoughts weren’t happening; that I could go on avoiding the issue all the time.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” Ben sighs, rocking you side to side gently, “don’t you see, though? I love everything about you, and I mean everything.”

“How can you though? How can you love my flabby tummy when I hate it?”

He looks you in the eye to give you a stern frown for calling yourself flabby, then kisses the tip of your nose before replying.

“I can love your beautiful tummy because it’s part of you, and I love you unconditionally. I wouldn’t even care if you had a lizard’s tail or some shit,” he adds with a laugh.

“A lizard’s tail?” you chuckle as you wipe the damp remnants of tears from your cheeks.

“A lizard’s tail, monkey ears, a baboon’s arse, I wouldn’t give a shit because I love you so much.”

“That’s good to know,” you giggle.

After a short while of being in a silent embrace under the duvet, Ben starts to stir and his hands wander to your stomach where he strokes it sweetly over your t-shirt. He peels the covers away from you both then looks to you and notices the fear etched across your face.

“May I?” he asks, taking the hem of your t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m inclined to say no…” you answer honestly.

“But how about you say yes and see what happens?” Ben suggests, “and I promise nothing bad will happen.”

“Okay...” you reply nervously, “yes.”

“You can stop me any time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod.

Ben lifts the hem of your top slowly and the higher it gets the more your hands seem to shake as your sides, your palms becoming clammy from the fear that he’ll see your large stomach and be sick at the sight of it. All the little voices inside your head are screaming at you to stop him before he realises what a fat monster you truly are, but when you look up at his face and see a loving smile tugging at his lips you get confused. Why on earth would he be looking at you like that? It doesn’t add up, there should be some glint of disgust there, surely? He then leans down towards the blob and places a kind kiss against your soft skin, then for some reason he does it again, and again, until he’s covered most of the huge surface area and you’re left looking at him in utter confusion.

“What’s that face for?” Ben chuckles when he finally looks up at you.

“Well it’s just… Why are you being so nice about it?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Ben frowns as if the answer is obvious, “and this part of you has been hidden away from me for so long that it’s got a lot of love to catch up on.”

“I… Hmm,” you reply, unable to find any words to say.

“Stop shaking,” he smiles softly as he takes one of your hands in his, “I told you nothing bad would happen.”

He places your hand back down on the bed and carefully lifts your t-shirt until he’s able to pull it up and over your head to leave you completely exposed to him, and although you’re quick to grab the covers and pull them up, he’s happy to just be able to feel all of you underneath them now.

“Love you,” he whispers as his hands run up and down your body that he’s never been able to explore before.

“Love you too,” you reply as the self loathing voices inside your head quieten down for the first time.

can I request Ben Hardy where the reader doesn’t like to get naked in front of him because of her weight issues. Whenever they have sex, she’s always wearing a shirt or making them go under the covers etc. Eventually when he asks reader tells him she’s insecure about her body and couldn’t imagine letting him see (particularly since fans have been nasty about her) and when she finally lets him, she’s all shaky and scared about him being disgusted?

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @captainxholmes @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @n3shama @itisjustmethistime @mamaskillerqueen @luvborhap @queenslandlover-93 @tenement-funstah @rogmeddows

[dwaynepride]

That’s My Routine

imagine having a friends with benefits relationship with chris but he starts getting feelings

Words: 836

Warnings: a hint of spice (but no smut)

Tags: @n3shama @starryrevelations​ @thebeckyjolene​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​ @pageofultron​ @stanathanxoox​

Chris LaSalle is a bolt of lightning on a summer night.

That’s the only real way to describe him accurately. Hot-blooded, full of energy - predictable, but in the best way. You knew getting a call from him so late at night, asking you to come over for a few beers, would just turn into a romp in the sheets. The case took a hard turn, and he’d need the kind of release only you could provide.

And maybe Chris and his energy was your only way of release, as well.

His breath is hot against your lips. Skin just a little damp from his exhilaration, and it’s strangely addicting to run your fingers over his body. To feel his muscles go tight and expand with each roll of his hips. And when your eyes open, he’s still smiling. Chris never really stopped that dopey grin during these nights.

That’s a lie - his smile falters when he hits his climax. With a stutter of his hips and a gasp, his jaw drops open and he lets out just about the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

The smile returns when you do the same.

Chris is panting hard when he rolls away. Stretching out on his back with a sigh and a little contented moan; he was a creature of habit, you have his routine down by now. So this time, when you turn to look at his profile in the dim light, you’re not surprised to see his tired little smirk.

Always smiling. He doesn’t smile nearly this much at work. Not even at the bar with the team. But on nights where you share the same bed, that goofy grin never leaves his face. If you didn’t know Chris any better, it’d be weird. But still, it has you just a little curious.

He feels your gaze on him, so Chris opens his eyes and turns his head. And he lets out a hum when he catches you staring. “What? Wanna cuddle?” He mumbles out tiredly. “Don’t gotta ask; bring it over, baby.”

“No, I don’t wanna cuddle.” Not right now, anyway. “I was just...wondering something.”

“Yeah, ya can stay the night...”

“No, Chris,” you cut in with a soft laugh. Amusement is bright in his eyes as you turn on your side to face him. “I just notice you smile a lot.”

He blinks a couple times, probably waiting for you to elaborate before shrugging. “Guess I’m just a happy guy,” he responds. No joking tone, no teasing. It’s a genuine statement.

And you don’t reply to it. Honestly, you don’t really know what to say, because you don’t want to tell him the routine of his smiles. How you’re greeted with a big grin at the beginning of the night, and the last you see of Chris before going your separate ways to work is his cocky little smirk because he knows this’ll happen again sometime in the next week.

Besides, Chris doesn’t give you time to think of a response. He’s moving closer, looking to pull you into his arms before he’s really out for the night. And you want him to, because you always sleep better after a great fuck and then listening to his soft breathing.

But you pull back at the last moment. Chris pauses, his smirk faltering as he lets the confusion show on his face. You don’t give him time to question you before sitting up in bed and pulling the blanket aside. “I can’t stay,” you tell him.

“Really? Why not?” 

He’s rising up with you, but not making the same effort to get out of bed and pull on his own scattered clothes. Probably because you can hear the forced nonchalance in his voice; he’s trying not to make a big deal out of the sudden change of plans.

But it’s hard to ignore the fact that Chris isn’t smiling when you look back to him.

“I just have something to do in the morning. It’s less of a hassle if I just sleep at home.”

A lie. One that twists your stomach up tight, because you don’t like lying to Chris. Plus, you do want to stay. But something feels...off. Different from how light and fun these nights usually are. From the very first time, you and Chris had an unspoken, mutual understanding that it probably won’t be much more than some cheap dinners and then a couple rounds at night. No strings attached because the job doesn’t leave much room for relationships.

But his gaze on your back is like fire as you pull your shirt on. “Oh. Alrighty, then,” Chris says without his usual zest. That thick drawl of his is absent of the charm you love. “See ya tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you throw back with a friendly smile. Chris reflects it, but it’s just as held back as yours.

And somehow, a summer night in Louisiana is cold. And you wish you could stay with Chris and his warm bed.

[dunnfor29]

n3shama -> crtrbzn

[tedllasso]

Kate, March 16 (I saw you were looking for March babes!) and I’m in the Chris Evans and Marvel fandoms ☺️

Hi Kate. I added you. 💓

join my birthday page

[that-girl-in-the-shadows]

Battles are lost in the same spirit that which they are won.

Walt Whitman Dedicated to @n3shama, may this help you feel better.

[fightmewiatch]

Smut - 32 for Colin Shea (What’s Your Number) (I had to hehe)

32. You might not like me, but you definitely want me.

A/N: Yep, smutty prompt. It’s not as smutty as I can get, but there’s still some (slight) smut, lol, so, 18+ only folks!

        You liked music. It helped pass the time, it helped you calm down on bad days or psyched you up for things you were reluctant to do for work, it drowned out the noise in your head on bad nights to help you fall asleep. 

       You liked music.

       You did not, however, like the harsh guitar riffs that seeped through your wall from the apartment next door, at all hours of the day and night. The ones that disrupted your sleep, or caused whoever you were on the phone with to get irritated and hang up on you. 

       Like right now. 

       Swearing sharply as your phone disconnected - a sound you’d become familiar with after the third time it happened - you tossed the object onto the couch, and stormed out your door, slamming your fists into the door next door.

“Goddamn it, Colin! What the fuck is your problem!” The sound stopped as quickly as it had began, followed by some soft thumps, before the door swung open, revealing your neighbor in a pair of low riding jeans and…literally nothing else.

       It made your breath catch in your throat, your tongue suddenly too heavy to move, as you dragged your eyes over his frame, before he cleared his throat, smirking as you snapped your eyes to his, and found your footing once more.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you and your sweetheart, Shea. I thought you practiced on the roof! Why do you have to practice so loudly down here?” you huffed, hands on your hips, as he leaned against the door frame. 

“It’s November. In Boston. Too cold to be up on the roof right now. C’mon, you like the music!” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“No, I like music. The only thing I hear from your side of the wall is noise. Do you realize what happens, every time you do that, when I’m trying to have a conversation? They hang up on me. Do you know how many times I’ve been hung up on?”

“Eight?” You stuttered, surprised, as he smiled at you, before he pushed off the frame and strolled back into the apartment.

“What…how…what?!” you exclaimed, storming after him and shoving his door shut. “Are you doing it on purpose?!” Colin laughed at the rising pitch, turning to see you as he shrugged. 

“Not at first. First time was an accident. But you forget, sweetheart, that I can hear you through the wall, too, which means I know that almost every single one of those calls was you trying to set up a date with some dick.” 

“They were not d-”

“Several of those calls were with your ex!” he pointed out, making you flush, and glance down at your feet. 

       He was right, but you hated that he was right, pointing out that the mentioned man had been your weakness for so long, you were having trouble saying no and disconnecting completely from him. But with a sharp shake of your head, you pushed all that to the back of your mind, and looked up, brow pulled down.

“That may be, Colin, but some of those calls were related to work. Do you know how hard it is to convince my boss that I’m not out partying and it’s just my asshole neighbor, when it keeps happening?” 

“…Okay, those, I didn’t mean to do. But in my defense, they didn’t sound work related when I started playing.” 

“…I hate you.” Colin grinned, shaking his head as he dismissed those words that fell from your lips with much less venom than you’d wanted. 

“You might not like me, but you definitely want me.” A startled, sharp sound jumped out of your throat in objection as he shrugged once more, motioning to his half-naked form. “You think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me when I opened the door? The way you look at me when I clearly just got out of the shower?” he damn near purred, stepping towards you as you backed up, frowning up at him.

“Shut up, Colin.”

“Only if you admit I’m right.”

       Three years of being neighbors with Colin meant a lot of changes between you. At first, you two had been strangers. After bumping into him a couple of times, the two of you became sort of friends, and yes, you weren’t afraid to admit you’d thought he was attractive pretty much since you saw him. But then the noise, the music, the constant flow of women in and out of his apartment, it made you so frustrated, and not just at the fact that it bothered you. More at the fact that you weren’t with him, that he had never said anything to you to hint that he wanted anything to do with you besides friendship. 

       But fuck, if he wasn’t right, now.

       Huffing, you hooked your fingers in his belt loops, tugging him in as you pushed onto your toes and claimed his lips with yours in a near rough kiss. Colin moaned, surprised, before his hands cradled your face, dragging his tongue against the seam of your lips. 

       Panting and almost desperate, you nipped at his bottom lip, moaning out as his mouth dragged down your throat to nibble and suck at your pulse, your fingers making quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, until the heavy fabric was hitting the floor with a harsh thud. His body jerked, groan pressed to your skin, as your hand shoved beneath his boxers and your fingers gripped his cock. 

“Sweetheart.”

“You better put that mouth to better use if you want me to do anything more than this, Shea.” His fingers clenched on your jaw, before he dragged you to his bed, helping to strip you down along the way.

       As soon as you were bare, he laid you out on his bed, hands squeezing and rubbing up and down your thighs, until he was crawling up between your knees. 

“Good thing you shut the door,” Colin chuckled, nipping your knee and burying his face between your thighs, immediately pulling a needy whine from your lips as you arched your back. 

       This time, the noise from his apartment wasn’t just him.

       And this time, you honestly didn’t care how loud it was.

[userlando]

He looks surprisingly amazing with a buzzed head, which tbh, gives me very naughty thoughts lol. His voice is just pure sex. Like molten caramel. Fuck. Nothing beats his look during the AM era for me though. God he’s so dreamy and delicious. And the music is timeless. Reminds me a bit of the Beatles, especially lyrically. *sigh* he reeled me in to with his performance.

i’ve always always loved his hair, whether it’s long or short but the buzzed head gave me the feelings™ you’re right though!! the am era is just out of this world 😩 the new album really gives me old bowie vibes, it’s perfect

[bethanygroberts]

Questions Tag

I was tagged by @just0nemorepage, so here we go!

 Hair color? Dirty blonde, even though a lot of people think it’s brown.

 Do you like your name? Yep!

 Is it easy for people to get under your skin? Mm, not really, no.

 Relationship status? Single and happy!

 Favorite time of day? Dusk!

 Bedspread color? My bedspread has a lot of colors, including yellow, pink, white, blue, orange, and black.

 Last thing you ate? Zesty Cheddar Ranch Cheez-It Grooves (they’re one of my favorite snacks)

 Favorite color? Blue! Any shade of blue, but especially Ravenclaw and T.A.R.D.I.S. blue!

 Favorite album? At the moment, ‘91 by Jamie Grace.

 Favorite song (at this moment): Here and Sixteen by Jamie Grace, I can’t just pick one.

 Favorite place: My local library! It got a new building recently, and it looks amazing.

 Wake up time? 7-9 am on a school day or Sunday, and 10-11 am on a Saturday

 Cat or dog? Both!

 Pets? I don’t have any now, but our family used to have a chihuahua when I was little.

 Coke or Pepsi? Pepsi, all the way!

Text or call? Text, I’m a big introvert.

 Chapstick or lipstick? Chapstick

 Coolest Halloween costume? I haven’t worn a Halloween costume in ages... but one of my favorites has to be the yellow Power Ranger I wore when I was little.

 Where do you shop? My favorite stores are Romancing the Stone, Urban Outfitters, and Books A Million, but we usually go to little used book shops in my city that I love!

 Tattoos? None

Piercings? None

 How did your last relationship end (if ever)? The last and only “boyfriend” I’ve ever had was several years ago when I was in the second or third grade, but I don’t usually count it as a relationship, haha.

 Worst place you’ve ever been to? Okay, please don’t hate me for this, but I’m not very fond of IKEA. I love the cool furniture and everything, but it’s HUGE. The only time I’ve ever been to that store was on a day where I was really tired and hungry, and the bathrooms seemed to be tucked away in some faraway land. It took us forever to get out, and I’m serious when I say that I almost cried.

 Biggest fear? Heights, I’ve always been terrified of them. I’ve never ridden anything that could be considered an actual rollercoaster, and even Ferris Wheels scare me.

 Emotion rn?  Hmm, somewhere between content and happy?

Pick one of your favorite quotes?  “He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words. Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.” - Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

 A song that makes you cry: You Will Be Found - Dear Evan Hansen (I love the part when they all sing together near the end)

 Last song listened to: I’m pretty sure it’s A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into from Be More Chill

 Tagging the last nine people in my activity: @bunnie107 @libraryangel @arenacea @n3shama @readingbookslife @thereaderfairy @bookvoyage @bluesapphire927 @bookzane

[enchantedbyhiddles]

@n3shama replied to your post “Okay, I give up. Two pages into IT it is confirmed to me that Stephen...”

He does write in a style that’s very hard to get into. He’s very verbose (sort of reminds me of Ulysses by James Joyce). It’s just mundane and it feels like he’s just trying to show off his intellect. I love the concepts/ideas/plots that he’s able to create, but actually reading it is so difficult. I found that his novellas are easier to digest. One of which was adapted into a film (Secret Window, Secret Garden). The film was just titled Secret Window and starred Johnny Depp.

Totally agree. While he is very verbose it isn’t entertaining. Others can write pages and pages on mundane things, but their style is more interesting. as he has those interesting plots it seems like unnecessary added space. :(

I think I remember the movie. :) It was one of the better ones.

[mycptsdrecovery]

I read the post sent in my n3shama and I literally felt my skin rise. Because for years I had reoccurring dreams of a figure that would chase me and grab me, then I made the connection that the fear I felt in my dream was the same fear I felt when my father would hurt me... after realizing this my dreams became more clear and the figure became him. In the dreams where he was his true self I’d scream out to my family who just walked by me, never helping. I thought it was just me who dreamt this.

Thank you for sharing your experience. I’m really sorry you went through this ❤️

[bluesfortheredj]

Your arms were weighed down with the burden of countless bags of presents and you have to shuffle your way through the front door into the hall with your keys between your teeth, then kick the front door shut and quickly rush into the living room before you drop every single bag in the hallway. You wouldn’t have been as annoyed if all these presents were ones you’d purchased for other people, but they were actually all gifts that had been given to you for one specific reason; your wrapping skills.

Christmas could be a stressful time but for you it was usually quite a relaxed holiday, well, that was until your family had decided that because your presents were always wrapped perfectly with beautiful bows and neat little adornments, you could do everyone’s for them, just in different paper so you knew who to give them back to. You’d laughed it off at first but when they then started dropping their bags off at your place the year before you knew they were actually being deadly serious, and this year the family meet up had culminated in you coming away with dozens of bags with name tags attached so you knew who they belonged to.

“Ben?” you call out.

There’s no response so you assume he’s showering being as the door wasn’t double locked, and you make yourself a cuppa before sitting down on the floor to begin the big wrapping escapade.

“Right,” you sigh as you place the scissors and tape dispenser down on the floor next to you, “where to begin...”

You group up the bags into who gave them to you, then assign a couple of rolls of matching paper to each pile and then dish out the bows and ribbons accordingly, making sure the colours matched. When that’s all done you sit down, take a sip of tea, then start on the first bag.

One forgotten and cold cup of tea, two Christmas films, and a flurry of curse words later, you’re well and truly fed up with everything, and you’ve been tipped over the edge by one of the gifts being an awkward shape and not wrapping properly at all. At this rate you’d never get around to wrapping your own damn presents, and you look at the sad cup of tea with a sigh.

“Hey,” Ben says as he stretches in the doorway.

“Bloody hell I forgot about you,” you gasp, almost knocking the cup over as you flinch back.

“Oh, thanks!” he laughs.

“I didn’t mean… Hold on, have you been upstairs all this time?”

“Yeah, had a shower then fell asleep on the bed,” he yawns, “just about waking up now.”

“Ha! Well it’s alright for some, isn’t it? Look at all this! These are all the presents that each member of my family has purchased and now I’ve got to wrap them...”

“And your tea’s gone cold, hasn’t it?” Ben asks sympathetically.

“Yes it has!” you groan, sticking out your bottom lip.

“Right, well sit tight while I make you another one and then I’ll help you with the wrapping. Sound good?” he asks as he leans over to pick your cup up.

“Sounds very good,” you nod, “thank you.”

You rest your back against the edge of the sofa and stretch your legs out on the floor then tap your fingers along your thigh as you wait for Ben to return, and he soon comes back in with a hot cup of tea and a smile on his face.

“Right, where shall I start? You drink your drink and I’ll get wrapping,” he grins as he makes a space opposite you and sits on the floor with his legs crossed.

You look around at the piles of bags and pick out the gifts that seemed the easiest to do, mostly gifts boxes of various bath things, so you pull them in front of Ben along with the rolls of paper and give him a nod.

“These should be easy,” you smile.

“Excellent,” he says as he rubs his hands together in preparation.

You watch him carefully as his expression turns from confident to confused within a matter of minutes as he cuts the paper a tad too short, leaving the sides open when he folds them up. He sticks it anyway then cuts another strip to cover up the gaps and uses dozens of pieces of tape to secure each side, much to your amusement.

“I’ve got to say… You are possibly the worst present wrapper I’ve ever seen,” you laugh as your curl your fingers around the warm cup in your hands, “it’s almost painful to watch.”

“I’m absolutely shit at this,” he agrees, “it’s painful to do!”

Your laugh only grows when he picks up the finished present complete wit wonky bows that try to hide the fact he’s used almost a whole roll of tape to fix the sides, and you’re soon having to put your cup to one side as you hold your stomach with one hand and wipe the tears from your face with the other.

“Oh my god,” you howl, “that couldn’t have gone more wrong!”

“I know right! Look at this...” he shuffles closer to you on the floor and shows you one particular corner that has three pieces of tape holding it together, “I missed the tear the first two times...”

Your stomach now hurts with every breath you take between laughs and all you can do is swat him away so you have an opportunity to calm down again.

“Remind me to never ask you to help me with wrapping again,” you pant as you start to breathe normally.

“At this rate you’ll have to wrap your own from me!” he laughs.

“I’d better bloody not!” you chuckle.

“How about we sack this off and go out for lunch?” he suggests as he puts the parcel to one side and gently slides his hands up your thighs.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea,” you nod as you place your hands on his, “thank you for trying, I do love you for it.”

You lean forward and press a light kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Good to hear, I’d hate to be dumped for not being able to wrap presents,” he winks.

everyone always asks y/n to wrap their Xmas presents for them because she’s like the best at wrapping presents and always makes them so neat and presentable so she has like tons of presents to wrap (including her own for others) and Ben (Hardy) wakes up from a nap or something to see her so stressed trying to do them all and make them look good so he offers to help but he’s rubbish at it and they have a laugh and fluff?

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @captainxholmes @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @n3shama @itisjustmethistime @mamaskillerqueen @luvborhap @queenslandlover-93 @tenement-funstah @rogmeddows

[dwaynepride]

Truth Or Dare

Summary: The team’s been drinking. Chris is dared to kiss reader. You know the trope.

Words: 2,943

Warnings: None

Tags: @stanathanxoox @pageofultron @n3shama @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty

Notes: started out as an imagine but i get carried away and also am bad at planning so enjoy.

New Orleans was a great city. It really was. The music and the people and history...it was uniquely beautiful. You could see why Pride held such affection for it.

But right now, you couldn’t understand it. Because as amazing as the city was, it had its downsides. Namely, the damp, crowded, muddy swamps that you and Sebastian have been wading through all day. Granted, the amount of evidence you were able to collect would come in handy. It might be the key to solving the case.

But as the rest of the team rolled up, hopped out of the cars without mud stains on their clothes or sweat streaking their faces, you’ve never been more envious about staying at the office.

“Y’all need a shower!”

Chris’ jab was a joke, you knew that. He’s wearing a wide grin as he says it, prompting the rest of the team to smile. And even when you manage to sport one yourself, you can’t help but lower your eyes while padding up to the truck. The others might be content to laugh a little at yours and Sebastian’s expense, but at least they brought along some towels and a change of clothes.

Though, as you drag the towel down your face to clean the mud off, you reckon it’s just because they don’t want the work cars full of mud....

“You have fun today?”

Your head whips around at the sound of Chris’ question. There’s still a smile on his face, but it’s more like the one he usually wears. Carefree but friendly. It prompts a bit of heat to rush up into your face while shaking your head. “I’m covered in mud and had to listen to Sebastian complain all day. What do you think?” You reply sarcastically.

He gives a light shrug, leaning against the car while you work to wipe the mud from your arms and hands. “I dunno. Thought maybe bein’ out here would’ve put you in a good mood,” Chris comments, his eyes flickering about the edges of the swamp before looking back.

“Why would I be in a good mood?”

“Because all the evidence you and ‘Bastian got outta be enough to put our guy away.” Chris shrugs and motions over to Pride, who’s going over said-evidence with Sebastian and Gregorio. “That’s what King says, anyway. Y’all did a good job.”

Despite the irritation of wading through the bayou all day, with the heat and the bugs and Sebastian asking about gators, it all seemed worth it. Sure, the thought that all the work will go towards finally closing this case was nice. But somehow, Chris and his praise felt just a little better.

Your eyes are still down, focusing on the mud-stained towel, before he speaks up again. “Am I seein’ you at the bar tonight?”

This time, his tone is just a little different. Not an ounce of the light teasing it’s been sporting, and the sound of it forces your heart into jumping-jacks. You look up, forcing your face to stay neutral. Is he asking you join him for drinks....? “The bar?”

“Yeah. Once we get all this wrapped up, we gotta celebrate. And you definitely gotta be there.”

Right. Celebrating with the team. Like you always do after solving a case. A bit of embarrassment creeps up at the idea that it would be anything different, even in nobody else was aware of that secret hope. It still made you feel foolish.

But hey, spending time with Chris with the team was better than not spending time with him at all, right?

So you put on a smile and nod your head. “Yeah, I’ll be there. After a shower.”

-

“Gregorio, truth or dare!”

The bar was so loud - so full of music and people - that Chris barely heard Patton’s words. When his attention moves away from watching Pride on stage toward his friends, the two agents are staring at each other with a challenging look in their eyes. Sebastian watches, as does Sonja with a mischievous smile.

“Uhhh, truth,” Gregorio answers.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done to impress somebody you liked!”

The team worked hard today. They deserved to kick back and throw back more than a few drinks. Get just a little drunk. That’s probably what led them to start playing a little Truth-or-Dare; a pleasant buzz that had Chris agreeing to play the stupid little game.

As Gregorio goes into telling the story, Chris is looking up towards the bar. His head leans side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of you through the mob of people. And then he sees you, still leaning against the counter, waiting for the bartender to fill the order of beers. How long have you been standing there? Five minutes? It felt longer.

There’s a nudge on his shoulder, and when Chris looks over, Sonja is glaring up at him. “Who are you staring at?” She asks bluntly.

“I’m not starin’,” Chris answers, and he hope he doesn’t sound too defensive. But he still motions up to where you’re standing, watching the band play even though you’re starting to look a little bored. “Just thinkin’ that....Y/N’s missing out on all the fun.”

Sonja’s focus follows his, and Chris doesn’t notice the sudden way her spine straightens. Doesn’t notice the look she gives Patton and the rest of the team before she’s nudging Chris again. And when he looks back, she leans in just a little. “Well, it’s your turn, Country Mouse. Truth or dare?” Percy asks, her tone almost deadly serious.

He gives an amused snort. “Dare,” Chris replies; he’s never been one to pass up an opportunity to do something daring. Plus, it’s a whole hell of a lot better than having to spill his guts.

But Sonja seemed extremely pleased at his choice. “Alright. I dare you...”

“Yeah...?”

“To go up to the bar. To Y/N...”

“Percy.”

“And give ‘em kiss.”

Immediately, the entire table erupts with a combination of laughter and shocked hooting noises. Everybody’s grinning at him, leaning forward in their chairs, waiting for Chris to take on the dare.

He’s blushing. He’s embarrassed, but he’s never turned down a dare before. And he’s not going to start tonight. Especially since it was Sonja who laid the dare out in front of him. The teasing will never die if he refuses.

Chris waits a moment, his eyes rising to look at the bar before raising his beer bottle and downing the last of it in a single swig. When he stands, his fellow agents watch his every step. Probably muttering to each other but the music and the bar patrons drown it out.

Not that he’d hear them anyway. Not with the blood rushing through his ears, matching the rhythm of his racing heart.

It takes some maneuvering through the crowd, but Chris eventually makes it to the bar. Shoulders his way to stand beside you, pressing against your arm. You look up at the sudden contact, probably expecting some strange man looking to get a little friendly before recognizing the face of your friend.

Your face instantly breaks into a smile, and it doesn’t help slow his heart rate down. “Sorry about the beers! It’s so busy - it’s impossible to get the bartender’s attention.”

Chris waves off your apology, mimicking your smile with one of his own. Your eyes break contact with his in favour of staring at your hands. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I didn’t come up here for the beers,” Chris replies, voice elevated so you can hear.

But you still couldn’t catch his words. When you frown and tilt your head, Chris huffs a laugh before leaning in. His breath is wafting over your ear as he repeats himself, “I came up so we can have a chance to talk.”

You don’t reply for a moment. If Chris weren’t so close, he’d notice how your eyes went a little wide. How your face turns a subtle shade of pink that has nothing to do with the heat and energy of the bar. You turn your head a little to the side so he could hear your response. “Really?”

“Yeah. Ya looked lonely!”

Again, there’s a short bout of silence from you. The music’s thumping against the walls, but it feels as if Chris’ ears are straining, trying to pick up your next words. If they ever come. Eventually, he leans his head back to look at your face. And you’re barely meeting his eyes. Still smiling and, for all intents and purposes, looking really damn cute.

Maybe that’s just the beer talking.

He’s leaning closer into your space; probably a little closer than what’s considered normal between two friends in a crowded bar. But if you’re uncomfortable with the proximity, you don’t show it. In fact, for the first time since Chris has been up here, you’re finally making eye contact. Strong, firm eye contact.

He gives a sly little smirk; the very same one he usually uses whenever he’s trying to charm someone. “I gotta question for you. Feel free to say no,” Chris says, and he’s glad he’s close enough for you to hear him. He’d hate to break this eye contact.

You nod for him to ask, and Chris ignores the big knot in his stomach to focus on his objective. He knows the team is watching - waiting for the dare to be completed. “Can I kiss you?”

He would’ve said more. Probably a lame joke to get you loosened up, or even a comment to fluster you. But he knows you better than that, so the question is left as simple and blunt as possible.

Your eyes widen, clearly expecting anything but a request for a kiss. And then there’s a little quirk of your brow, as if wondering if you possibly heard him right. But Chris keeps his smile on, even leans his head in a little more, and you’re sure that you heard correctly.

Whatever force drove you to give a nod of your head was clearly not listening to the more rational part of your brain screaming ‘no, you shouldn’t kiss him.’ But your heart was beating way too hard and Chris smelled way too good when he leaned in for the kiss.

And, alright, you may have fantasized about a kiss from Chris LaSalle since basically the moment you met him. He was cute, in a goofy kind of way. Liked to make people smile, but you’ve never met anybody more loyal or brave. It truly wasn’t fair that he was able to gallivant around the streets of New Orleans.

It wasn’t fair that he was such a good kisser. That his lips were this soft or his skin was this warm. The sensation of him, all of him, completely knocked the air from your lungs. It was difficult to remember why a small part of you argued against the kiss, because right now, it’s all you can focus on. Chris’ lips are lightly tugging into a smile, but he keeps moving them against yours. Soft and passionate at the same time, and it’s turning your brain into a puddle of mush.

Just as you think he’s about to deepen the kiss, Chris pulls away. It takes a moment for your senses to return and open your eyes. And when you do, he’s grinning widely. You’re about to return the expression, but then his head whirls around to the table the team is sitting at.

You follow his eyes, noticing that your friends are all sharing mixed looks of shock and amusement.

There’s no time to wonder why Chris immediately looked back at them after the kiss before he’s talking. “I got dared to give you a kiss,” he calls out. When you turn to meet his mirthful eyes, Chris doesn’t even look shy or ashamed. “When it’s your turn to dare me, you can make me do whatever ya want. Embarrass the hell outta me.”

You don’t reply, or even attempt to mimic his amused expression. That warm, fluffy feeling that sprouted in your chest when he kissed you was gone. A feeling you never knew he could give you until just now, and it vanished as soon as it appeared. Replaced with a yawning, aching hole.

Instead of trying to play along, like you usually do when Chris flustered you so much, you just turned away from him and the bar. Head low, trying to navigate through the crowd as quickly as you can. Not looking at the team. Not seeking Pride out on the stage so he can come to you. Just making a bee line to the door.

And Chris is standing by the bar as you leave, his grin a thing of the past. Furrowed eyebrows mar the playfulness of his face, and when he glances back to Sonja and the others, they share his expression.

But they aren’t the ones who just fucked up. He was.

Chris instantly takes off after you, reaching the door much quicker but not without bumping into a few people and throwing out apologizes over his shoulder. He couldn’t care about them, right now. Because when Chris finally makes it out of the bar, he can’t find you. He leans to look down one side of the sidewalk, and there’s no sign of you.

He does the same with the other side of the bar, and thankfully, he spots your figure in the dark. Trying to speedwalk away from the Tru Tone towards...somewhere. So Chris breaks into a jog, calling out your name, telling you to stop, but you don’t.

It’s not until he reaches your side and tugs on your arm do you finally stop walking. “Hey, I was callin’ you,” Chris says earnestly, but you don’t look at him. That somehow makes it worse.

“I heard you.”

“And you didn’t stop?”

You let out an exhale, finally raising your gaze to meet his. Chris expects anger, which is probably warranted, but all he finds is small tears. Glittering against the streetlights, but unmistakable. “No. You kissed me on a dare, Chris. What made you think that was a good idea?”

The question gives him pause. Alright, sure, maybe it was kinda dumb. Maybe the dare was completely immature for a pair of federal agents, but it was all in good fun, wasn’t it? “It was justa kiss,” Chris responds, his voice more flat than you think you’ve ever heard it.

But it doesn’t soften the blow of his words. Just a kiss.

Again, your eyes fall away from his. But only because looking up at those baby blues is making this situation a hell of a lot worse. “Not for me,” you mumble out.

“What?”

“I said, not for me. I know you only think of me as a friend, but when you kissed me, I don’t know....” You trail off when your throat starts to sting. Don’t cry. Don’t cry... “I guess I thought you finally felt the same.”

There’s silence. The streets of New Orleans might be banging as loud as before, but the bubble that exists around you and Chris is dead silent. You’re staring at his boots, half-hoping you’d see them turn and walk back to the bar. But they don’t. In fact, they take a step closer.

You keep your eyes down.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t’ve done that if-”

“Yeah, I know,” you cut him off. Putting on a strained smile that you’re not sure he even sees. “You’re still a good person, Chris. Can we please just forget about this? Go back to being friends?”

“Hey, we’re always friends, alright?” His hand is suddenly gripping your shoulder tight. The contact forces your eyes up, meeting his. And they suddenly look determined. That same look that appears when he has a dumb idea. “I want’chu to hit me.”

Despite the hurt, and the sting of embarrassment, his words bring out an amused snort. “What?”

“Hit me. I deserve it. Then we’ll be even.”

That’s when you start laughing. It’s not a belly laugh, or doubles you over. But it’s enough to ease the tight tension in the bubble. “Chris, I’m not going to hit you. Even if you were stupid enough to kiss on a dare.”

His weight shifts, and he doesn’t look very happy at your decision. “Yeah, but-”

“I don’t want to be even. I just want to forget it happened.”

Chris is hesitant to accept it. You know him well; know that he’s probably still brainstorming ways to truly put things right between you two. His attempt at getting you to hit him doesn’t work, so he finally just offers a smile. “Ya know, if you come back with me, it’ll be your turn for Truth-or-Dare.”

You frown in confusion, even when Chris comes closer and drapes his arm across your shoulders. Tugs you close while wearing that mischievous smile of his. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, Sonja’s the one who dared me. I reckon you can come up with somethin’ to get back at her with.”

Instantly, you’re reflecting his smile. And having him this close to you, his arm over your shoulders and feeling his warmth, should’ve clammed you up. It always has before. And for some reason, it doesn’t now. Maybe it’s because, as the two of you walk back to the bar, Chris is rubbing his thumb over your shoulder. It feels natural to fall into step with him.

You enter the bar still friends, but who knows what’ll happen after Chris answers a couple truths.