STEVE ROGERS In Avengers: Age Of Ultron (2015) Deleted Scene

LUPITA NYONG’O as NAKIA Black Panther (2018) dir. Ryan Coogler

Thx for tagging me bb @toripotterr 🪄🤍

I’ll tag @rip-us @quentinblack @roonilwazlibimagines @harryjamespotterxreader (you don’t have too if you don’t want too) just tagging⚡️

just a cute pic crew I found

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tagging (no pressure!) @vogueweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​ @wandsandwheezes​ @buckysbeloved​ @darthwheezely​ @andromedaa-tonks​ @jilyevans​ and anyone else who would like to do this! 

um

does anyone wanna read about my hogwarts shifting experience? or maybe ask questions about shifting? 👉👈 lmk (i have some stories i wanna share but like is anyone interested-)

HI HELLO EMMA CAN I HAVE A 💅 WITH CEDRIC DIGgoRY IN THE RAIN PLEASE? THANK,,

In The Rain

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x reader

💅🏻- i’ll write a short blurb, just send in a character and a prompt/scenario!

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A/N: HEY HELLO! YES YOU CAN! NO PROBLEM DARLING!

Taglist: @obsessedwithrandomthings @firewhisky-kisses @kashishwrites @harry-pottery-barn @hufflepuffgirly

~

Mud sloshed beneath Y/N and Cedrics feet as they trudged through the large courtyard. Rain poured around them, hitting the green, wet grass. Their shoes left a muddy print at every step, the mud sticking to the bottoms. Y/N’s hand was in Cedrics as Cedric pulled them through the grass. Y/N gripped onto his hand tighter as he began to go faster, as they didn’t want to slip and fall.

Despite it being late at night, Y/N had never felt more awake than now. Just by simply being with Cedric made Y/N felt more alive, more vibrant than they ever have before. Cedric made them feel happy. He made them feel special and giddy.

The two of them made their way to the Quidditch Pitch, the only thing lighting their way is Cedrics wand and the light light that came from the stars and moon above them. Y/N hadn’t ever been to the Quidditch Pitch at night. They’d never actually been to the pitch when there was no crowd. They’d say it was peaceful if there wasn’t adrenaline running through their veins and the rain pudding against the bleachers.

They made it to the middle of the pitch, and Cedric began to spin Y/N around wildly. Y/N giggled as they spun around. They could feel the water coming off their shirt, and they could hear their shoes squeaking against the mud that was surely picking up. It was slippery, but they kept their balance the best they could. Cedric stopped spinning them, causing them to stumble a bit. He grabbed onto their waist to keep them steady as he laughed before wiping his wet hair of his forehead.

Cedric and Y/N began to dance stupidly and giddily together. They wildely spun around, dancing to nothing but the sound of the rain and thunder that sang around them.

They slowed down a bit after a few minutes, calming down much more than before. They looked into each other’s eyes, the water dripping down themselves. They were cold, but that wasn’t going to stop them now. Cedric pulled Y/N closely to him, resting his forehead on theirs. Y/N looked into his eyes, a raindrop or two that was settled on his eyelashes catching their attention.

Cedric started to sway the two of them slowly as he started to hum softly. Their heart rates settled into what could’ve been one heart beat of its own that they shared amongst each other. They were completely and utterly in love with each other, and moments like these they savored.

baby it’s covid outside, wear a mask

I like his cardboard cut out

Erase Every Trace

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : Bucky had to sit back and watch another man touch you, but now that the ruse is over, he’s going to erase every trace of him off your skin. 

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨:  TFAWS Bucky x Reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.9K

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : Possessive (mostly protective) Bucky, creampie,  hint of exhibitionism kink, breeding kink, choking, semi public sex, smut, (oral f receiving), minors DNI

A/N: Based on a gif and that scene from this week. Beta’d by the wonderful @whisperlullaby but all mistakes are my own. 

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories.   𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

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He knew he had fucked up, his arrogant demeanor slipping away when the former winter soldier glared at him. The tense, yet calm atmosphere shattered the second he snatched your hand off Bucky’s arm, placing a distinctly moist kiss on your knuckles while grabbing your thigh. 

And when Bucky lifted him out of his seat by his throat, everyone knew that he would never make that mistake again. 

Earlier that evening. 

The nightclub certainly lived up to its reputation, you didn’t even make it past the entrance before you were being offered pink skull shaped candies. Shaking your head at what you assumed was ecstasy, you looked around the large room. Bright strobes of neon lights wave through the crowd splitting the darkness, the heavy thumping bass of the music vibrating through the floors. A husky mix of smoke, sweat, and liquor cling to the thick cloudy air. 

People jump and sway around you, a mob of glittery, sweaty limbs touching and grinding against each other. You navigate through the crowd, swatting away wandering hands and stray lips until you make your way to the bar. Signaling the bartender, you order a shot of tequila, needing a little liquid courage.

 You weren’t supposed to be here, but the only alias they could use to get a meeting with the buyer was part of a couple. And you were the only one that could help them out. Bucky was too well known through these parts and there was no way an Avenger could disguise himself among this crowd. Which left John Walker and you, a fact that Sam and Bucky hated.

You could see past Bucky’s stoic demeanor to the seething rage lurking beneath his seemingly cold indifferent blue eyes during the meeting, rage that grew each time John emphasized how loving the couple was known to be. The thought of having his hands on you turned your stomach. 

Honestly, you were only doing this for Bucky. 

While the information you could get from the buyer would help the team, it would also lead to another name on his list. A fact that only you and Bucky were aware of and the only reason he was allowing this to happen. 

You know him so well that you picked up on the way the corner of his mouth twitched whenever he was upset, how he would tap his left knee with his index finger as if he were counting down in his head, a  grounding technique he picked up from somewhere. 

You intertwined your fingers in his while you listened, rubbing your thumb across his palm, tapping along with him. His quick squeeze telling you he was okay. He has to shut down and compartmentalize otherwise his emotions would get the best of him. 

You and Sam remember the last time you were in danger, the destruction he reigned down to save you was astonishing. Rule number 2 of his does not apply to you in the slightest. 

If he even thinks you’re in danger, there is no stopping him. 

A fact he reminded a smug John of several times during the planning process.  

You pulled down the end of your form-fitting teal dress and threw back the shot, the crystal clear liquid burning it’s way down your throat. Wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand, you slide the glass down the counter. 

You balance your weight on your heels, warily watching John approaching you, wearing his fur-lined coat, a snarky smile on his face. It takes everything you have to not cringe when he pulls you in for a hug, kissing the shell of your ear. 

“We’re being watched, so play your role, I have plans for tomorrow that I’m very interested in keeping,” he whispers, his hands moving down your back, resting above your ass. 

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BTS of What’s Up? Music Video by Courtnie shot by Diego Palomino.

lifelines [g.w.]

hi! first fic, pls be nice!

word count: 2300

warnings: none

After Gryffindor turned the tides at the last second, winning the second most important game of the season after a massive setback in the first hour, the celebrations raged harder than ever. Since Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin to the ground two days ago, the path towards the Cup was clear. Angelina was sitting on the couch, having passed the point of looking pleased long ago, and now seemed almost frazzled by the result. People came up to her periodically, clapping her shoulder or topping off her drink, directing the buzzing energy of the common room straight into her.

Truly, the atmosphere was phenomenal, the stolen food and drinks from the kitchens juicer and a little more spiked than usual. Or maybe it was the sunlight still streaming through the windows as strongly as ever despite the past gloomy week. Whatever it was that made the day so electrically happy for everyone, it showed no signs of stopping.

This type of unrestrained feeling you always imagined started from the back of your head as s little star-like scribble that cast a net over you and spread the intensity throughout. This week it was stronger than it has been in a while.

You felt electric in the stands as you yelled for your team, an invisible line ripping the words from your throat before you even knew you were saying them. You felt elated as your housemates put their hands around you in delight, screaming themselves sore when they announced the winner. And you were feeling the happiness in your hair now, in every single strand from root to end as it swayed along with the bottle in your hand.

This was happy. This was joyful. This was utterly buttery in your chest and electric in the air.

You idly looked around the red and orange common room, which burned with excitement, deciding how to best spend this time before it runs out on Umbridge’s watch and she ruins it.

No. No wasting thoughts on her today. She sucked enough life out of you and your housemates this year, she won’t be doing it off the clock too.

Your eyes settled on possibly one of the strongest sources of this warmth - George Weasley, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his brother. The window behind him silhouetted him in gold perfectly, like the sun offered him to you. It accented how attractive he was, even if he burned a little at the top.

You’ve connected eyes before, talked before, even bantered. One wittier than the other every odd day, you toed the line between acquaintances and friends perfectly. Seeing as he’s very popular, catching him in-between conversations was a matter of luck.

You imagined a line going from the center of your chest to his as you approached him. He pensively looked to the side, observing some goings-on on the far end of the room as you interrupted him.

“That was a good game. You got some very nice shots in,” you said.

He turned to you with a mild close-mouthed ‘hm’, a look, and then a grin.

“You sure it was me?” he cocked his eyebrow and look at Fred on the couch next to Angelina, bumping knees with her and accepting congratulations in both of their names.

“You wear different numbers, genius. I know how to count this time.”

“And you have my number memorized,” he said, his voice glad.

“That would’ve been a great line if you were a Muggle.”

“Pity, I already chose a magical career.” he took a sip of his butterbeer and eyed you up, “Maybe I should start using my magical lines on you. Would those work better?” his eyes widened and his tone turned innocent at the end.

“I think I know too much anti-jinxes for that.”

He pursed his lips in amusement. “Alright. What would work on you then?”

“Oh, I find responsibility and appropriacy really hot.” you shot back, twirling a piece of your happy, charged up hair.

“Contradiction too,” he said, “since you’re still here.”

“I find contradiction a natural state of the human soul, thus if I wasn’t contradicting myself, I wouldn’t fully be here.”

“Hm. Brainy.” he chuckled.

“Judgy. If you need me to simplify you can just say so.”

“I think I can handle your smart mouth just fine.”

“Then why am I winning?”

“I didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“Rookie mistake.” you shook your head dramatically.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a rookier mistake to assume you’re winning. Who’s the judge?”

“My innate inner sense of whether I’m winning or not.”

“If it’s inside you, then how would one file a complaint concerning an unfair ruling?”

“They wouldn’t. It’s a noble and just system that decided I’m in the lead. You just need to accept the truth.”

“Don’t make me come in there,” he said, smirking good-naturedly.

“In where?” you shot back.

“In you.” his smirk held on for a second before he seemed to realize what he said and his face scrunched up in apologetic laughter.

Your mind slipped into the gutter the way new yorkers fall into sinkholes filled with rats - hilariously fast.

Albeit greatly amused, he started to correct himself, “I didn’t mean-”

“No, of course not.” you licked your lips, “I understood you the first time ” Was karma going to bite you in the ass for that lie? Who knows, but you might even be into that. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining. So he shone.

He grinned with his happy mouth and you once again noted how the light from the window behind him silhouetted him in the golden lining that made him look like a cutout glued onto the scene of this funny collage. His hair was aflame and his face was darker from the shadows but just as loudly burning with laughter.

This was happy.

You drew the word in your mind, line by line. H, a smooth move from the bottom, a decorative loop, then a parallel stroke, and a transversal. A, a circle with a tail, sharp move upward, and an even sharper drop for the backbone of p. P’s tummy? Bulge? Nope, your mind shouldn’t slip there in the middle of Binns’ class, no matter how boring he was. Another p, as George’s knee bumped into yours. He was moved from “Mr. Wester, Phillip.” for being disruptive, so he engaged in an under-the-table kind of disruption with his new tablemate.

You smiled. A long diagonal line, and another shorter one that cut into it. Y.

Happy.

You were, truly, right now. It sounded upside down to be happy though, both overall and when stuck in a soul-suckingly draining class, but you were.

George read over your shoulder, then audaciously engaged in over-the-table elbow-bumping-disruption and a cocked eyebrow. You straightened up, feeling a warm line unfold from the back of your head to the core of your brain, through the center of your chest, and straight to your stomach. Your happy line.

I’m happy, you mouthed.

Really? He mouthed back sarcastically yet good-naturedly. I can definitely see why. His eyes darted toward the professor. I say go for it, he’s a catch. You might even be his type.

You burst out laughing, then immediately bit your lip. A few students, including Philip, looked at you as you shook with laughter, but professor Binns carried on.

George, on the other hand, shrugged with his shit-eating grin, pretending he has no idea why you were laughing, thus letting everyone know why you were laughing.

You scribbled, I don’t know. What if it goes badly. I’d hate to be ghosted.

George raised his eyebrows at the Muggle slang you explained before. His hand slipped next to yours on the table and you felt your happy line thrum in approval. His hand was warm as he gently pressed it to yours, slowly took your quill, and scribbled back: Need someone more physical, huh? And I thought you were the romantic type.

Strong words for someone who never bought me dinner, you replied.

Mhm, as soon as I find a good line get you to agree to it.

Keep writing like that and I’ll start thinking you fancy me.

Keep your mind in the gutter and I’ll start thinking you don’t fancy me back. He accented that line with a wink and an overdramatic lip bite.

You pouted sarcastically at him. Of course not, I only want you for your knobby knees.

He chuckled, reminded of the short line of warmth that connected your knees under the table. He pressed his into yours a little stronger, then pulled away.

That’s a funny way of flirting. I’d know, I’m an expert at funny.

Self-proclaimed.

Untrue.

And I’m not flirting. If I was, you’d know it.

Would you? your breath hitched. For reasons you very well knew but refused to sound out to yourself, this short sentence drove the air around you two from joking to serious at breakneck speed.

Know if you were flirting with me? your happy line felt jumbled up in your stomach. He smiled at you.

Would you know if you were flirting with me?

The following week was arduous.

Gryffindors had a record amount of detentions, and Snape tore into them any and every chance he could. Even McGonagall was one edge, meaning lousy or missed homework was a death sentence. You forgot how to read from tiredness, submitting essays patchworked of other people’s thoughts without ever having any information pass through your head. Everything was dull, gray, and dragged out.

Despite that, outside the castle the sky was blue and sunlight streamed through the soft clouds and a sweet breeze would blow around aimlessly. It was both comforting and a little mocking. The sky should be as exhausted and as beaten down as you. Good to know stress made you compare yourself to a literal sky. But maybe that’s a little cruel. Nevertheless, it sounded like nature itself was turning its nose up at you, saying you’re selfish for wanting grey skies, she doesn’t care, she’s above puny human affairs. The world turns and you have to turn with it or stop, then spend the rest of the time catching up.

You haven’t stopped yet, but by all that is holy, you wanted to sleep. As the sun finally descended on a Friday after dinner, you finished your essays in hope that the next week might be kinder if you do everything quickly. The common room was dark, most of the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. It was also oddly empty for nine-thirty in the evening. Apparently, everyone had the same week as you.

Your almost finished essay laid on the table as you dozed, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of your armchair.

The creak of the portrait opening caught your attention, and George Weasley walked in a second later, rubbing his sore hand and cussing.

Truly everyone had a shitty week.

“Love?” you said teasingly.

He looked up at you with a tired grin.

“It’s late.”

“Not really. You okay?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, love.” he sighed, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

“Can I see?” you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Again, the firelight licked at the lines of his face, clear and sharp. He had circles under his eyes and a heavily nibbled lip.

“It’s nothing.” still, George raised his hand. “Love.” he added, distantly. He seemed to be staring right above your head. You looked at the middle line of his lips again. You imagined him biting it.

Was it him that bit it? That one hurt. You hoped it was him.

You took his hand in your and rubbed circles into his knuckles. His eye winced.

“I’m sorry.”

“S'not your fault.”

“What happened?” he closed his eyes.

“Two ickle firsties almost brought the wrath of Umbridge into themselves with some dungbombs. You know how it goes,” he said, a corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your chest expanded looking at him being satisfied with himself. As he should be.

“How… responsible of you,” you said.

His eyes snapped downwards to yours.

“Keep looking at me like that and I might also start being appropriate too, darling.”

You stepped closer, your happy line thrumming against your chest like a quivering violin string.

“What if being responsible is enough?”

“Enough for what?” he breathed out before you pressed yourself against him.

At first, that’s was it was - a press of two warm lips. Then he started to move slowly, almost gentlemanly. How appropriate.

As he touched you, you felt the daze of last week lift. The little star scribble on the back of your head lit up, pulsing with brightness rather than fogging your thought. This was clear, you felt his every stroke that made up his face and chest and hands. The scribble of happiness extended itself into a web, overtaking your brain - you could feel it and you wondered if he saw it too when he looked at you. You pulled away and lifted your head to check. Probably not, but his eyes were glassy and he gave you a dopey smile. He was glad you were there. You pressed your lips against his again. You were glad he was there too.

The web continued down your neck, arms and chest, into your legs until your toes buzzed with light coursing through you. You were more awake than you have been in a long time.

Your hands were the brightest of all, and as you touched his hands, connecting them fingertip to fingertip, things made sense. The web buzzed and his breath was warm against yours, hands pulsing with energy as your every lifeline connected into his.