also this was my first attempt at using my own coloring

Cosplay, Fanart and Plagiarism

(gif curtesy to Mel)


TL;DR: An artist traced (!) my cosplay photo without permission, gave me zero credits, sold the prints at a con and denied she’s ever seen my photo.

First, both of us, the cosplayer and the photographer, want to say that it would never have come to this if the artist would have immediately apologized to us in person, instead of being extremely rude to us and letting things escalate. A simple sorry and taking down the prints would’ve sufficed.

In the beginning of January, being hyped with the new SU episodes, I immediately fell in love with Blue Diamond and cosplayed her. Two months ago, a friend let me know that an artist she saw drew a fanart based on my photo. I was extremely flattered and happy, but also kinda sad the artist gave me zero credits. Us cosplayers and photographers work really hard to get a nice result, and everyone is happy when their photo serves as an inspiration for another artwork. I wrote a letter to her stating that I love her art, but I’d like her to credit me as a source of inspiration (adding the screen shot).

For two months, there was silence. I tried it again a few weeks ago, but again, no response. Okay, what can you do…



Last weekend we had a big con in Germany with a huge artist alley and both of us, the photographer and the cosplayer, attended. Suddenly, a friend came to us and said that there’s a girl selling this exact drawing. We were puzzled and decided to go to her booth and look at it ourselves.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

do you have tips on comic compostions and angling/framing of scenes beacuse holy fudge what the actual hell your mob comic is An Expirience

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhOOOOOOOOOOOO BO Y AIGHT

I’m gonna take this ask as a chance to masterpost about this comic.

Since there wasn’t a set time limit for this comic, I went all ham for it, which means there’s a lot of thought about angles/framing n shit in this sumbitch. (keep in mind i’m still learning this craft myself as i go along so FEEL FREE TO IMPROVE WHEREVER)

I’ll go in depth about it but all of my tips can be summed up with : 

go for the emotion of the scene.

Everything I do, I do to try and heighten the feeling in a scene. Everything I’m about to describe were all choices to try and maximize the emotional impressions.

Angles 

First off, everything in this comic (with the exception of panels 7-9 on page 4) is from Mob’s POV. Everything is built from there. keep in mind goin forward -

We start with Mob terrified of being spotted, of running into anyone. So I strained the perspective to make it feel too close for comfort, despite how far away his other limbs are. I also used the angle to emphasize the “spotlight”, pushing Mob into further discomfort, like he’s being watched anyways.

Mob fears he just murdered someone ? At his lowest moment in this comic? This is where the camera looks down on Mob the most.

Time for shock and awe that the man’s alive ! So Reigen is angled UP, building his Bigness in Mob’s eyes. Most subsequent shots repeat this, keeping us grounded in Mob’s perspective.

Here, Mob is literally on his knees asking for answers. So I pushed for an angle to make him seem really tiny. I wanted him to look as small as he feels.

In the next few pages, the angles basically level out (and I’ll talk more about why in other sections***) until

Mob has just touched back. This was a direct action on his part, so just as I’d built Reigen with that tilt up, it’s Mob’s turn to share that space.

Once Mob fears for the lives of the police, we shift back to high angles. Using a high angle to make a character seem small isn’t groundbreaking but it’s something to chew anyways.

This is less about the angle and more about how cramped everything is. Mob feels backed into a corner unless he can get Reigen to relent. So the tightness and how Reigen looms reflects this.

And here, I mirrored the very first panel. Once again we have a shot of Mob’s back, walking into the light of a streetlamp. But this angle is gentle in comparison, even if slightly off center. We can see where the light comes from so it ceases to feel less like an omnipotent threat and more mundane. Perhaps even hopeful.

Paneling 

I’m sorry to say I feel this is one of my weak points as a creator. I’d like to improve here the most. Most of my panels can be summed up with ‘slant = energized’, ‘straight = stable’. BUT. I did take a few liberties here and it’s good to point them out.

Broken glass to heighten the ouch on Mob’s part.

Salt man don’t give a fuck. he IS the panel. //adds to the energy of this moment

This break from the panels is meant to make Mob hitting Reigen a more immediate threat.

Same with Reigen reaching around it here. He’s still in danger of being shreddy shreddy at this point.

Sometimes a panel will bleed off, to give a more ‘open space’ feel. I like to use it in subtle “oh” moments. That’s the best I could describe it.

annnnnd nothin like a casual reminder on the edges of panels about what would happen should the police show up.

Staging/Body Language

Once Reigen shows up, he dominates the frame, even in shots where mob is closer to the audience. Again, this is all to emphasize how Big Reigen seems to a scared Mobbu.

Mob pushes himself to corners, Reigen’s given the bulk of the space. 

He stands taller than mob and makes the frame uneven.

Even his hand feels huge in comparison.

***That is, until Reigen has a better perception of what’s going on.

Then his actions and staging reflect this.

Reigen kneels down, trying to make himself smaller both to Mob, and in the frame.

The staging reflects Reigen’s attempts to get on even ground, literally and metaphorically.

Mob’s still pushing himself into corners, but now Reigen has actively surrendered some of the space.

Still just, trying to get some of Mob’s perspective.

And from this point onwards, Reigen and Mob share the space/frame more evenly. 

Even in shots where Reigen’s kinda large, he no longer seems so imposing.

Mob still looks up to him but we no longer have such dramatic shots tilting him up and having him hog the focus of the panel.

And we save the closest-closeup, both in staging and in how close our characters physically feel for last. Because bonding and shit.

Coloring

Decided to make the use of color sort of uncomfortable. Hinted at in edges but not really a presence of their own. Hard to tell what the color of anything is because it’s all nonsense in ur peripherals.

Until we get to humans. But this color seems more invasive, and doesn’t really touch mob in a positive way.

Till we get to these splash of color, messy and kinda unorganized but it’s exactly what Mob needs to bring some order.

From here we get a muted color wash, there but still slightly dulled.

The first hint we get of the saturation to come is centered around the touch.

We slowly fade into full blown saturation once Mob reaches back.

Fanfic bonus

The name meanings of Jun and Tetsuo, since this is the street where they live and why not ahaha.

There’s a lot of bird imagery in ABoT so I

“Kid, it’s like lifting a feather.”

And even tho Reig gets a cool halo from the streetlights n shit

We all know who the real angel is

Other fun shit

Mob’s outfit is based on Sakurai’s outfit when he was orphaned as a child.

I literally put the streetlight directly behind the hand in this shot because I lack subtlety and love it.

There are 2 times where I cut out a bit of (frankly beautiful) wordage in order to show things better visually. Both times happen when Mob’s stopped paying attention.

First with Reigen’s words just becoming a flood of nonsense pretty sounds.

The second when Mob’s thinking about the possibility of his barrier being gone.

also here u guys can have some behind the scenes shenanigans

Curious about auras? This article will hopefully explain the specifics of this peculiar phenomenon.

What’s an aura, anyways?

The term aura refers to an individual’s subtle energetic emanations. Auras aren’t visible to everyone, but plenty of people see them. They appear as a sphere of light or color around the body. 

The color, size, brightness, and other features of the aura depend on the nature of the person it belongs to. These things can vary based on mood. They can also relate to metabolic factors, magical activity, and many other things.

Many New Age writers say that the aura is energy in the scientific sense. This is a common misconception. No physicist has ever measured anything resembling auras as they’re commonly understood.

A few days ago, someone told me that they believed the aura was a human’s magnetic field. This isn’t true. The magnetic field of a human doesn’t act like an aura. It doesn’t change based on emotions or other things like that.

Others say it is something electrical, or related to quantum mechanics. The truth of the matter is that science can’t (yet) measure the aura in any way. Many are skeptical about its existence for this reason.

Still, many, many people have seen auras throughout history. To me, it’s a real phenomenon. Science may not understand it yet, but, for me, it’s real!

The energy that extends beyond our physical bodies is called the aura. The word “aura” is derived from Latin aere, meaning “air” or “gentle breeze.” The American Heritage Dictionary defines the aura as “an invisible breath, emanation, or radiation.” In metaphysics, the aura is seen as the human energy field, that portion of the subtle body that radiates out beyond the limits of the physical body.

Belanger, Michelle  A.. The Psychic Energy Codex: Awakening Your Subtle Senses (p. 117). Red Wheel Weiser. Kindle Edition.

Some gifted people see auras without trying. Also, many children see auras in early childhood. Often, this ability, if not cultivated, disappears as they grow up. Many magicians and witches develop the ability to see auras.

This involves a great deal of practice and effort. It’s worthwhile, but everyone is different. Not everyone will have the same aptitude to see auras. Some people can see only a little bit of the aura, like a vague mist. Others see brighter colors and light.

Everyone’s aura is different, too! Most witches and psychics believe this extends only few feet from the body. Size can and does vary, though. Some people may have an aura of only several inches. 

Others might have a very large aura. Size, color, brightness, and other features change throughout a person’s life. If you see a person’s aura at one point, expect it to change within hours, if not minutes. This reflects how dynamic people can be.

Auras in History

People have observed and recorded auras throughout time. It appears in many pieces of religious and spiritual artwork. Historically, auras are usually shown emanating from the body of holy men and women.

Christian artists often depict them surrounding saints. They appear in other cultures, as well. Medieval authors referred to the light surround a person’s head as the “aureole”. They called light around the body the “nimbus.“ These authors called the whole aura the “glory.”

In Scrying for Beginners, Donald Tyson writes about the auras shape in artwork. While many modern seers refer to the aura as a sphere, the ancients saw it differently. They believed that saints emanated two spheres that overlapped.

The glory is sometimes depicted in religious art as the vesica or vesica piscis, a lens-shaped figure formed by the overlap of two equal circles that pass through each other at their centers. Christ, the Virgin Mary, and other saints are often painted within this pointed oval, which is also called a mandorla (from the Italian word for "almond”).

Donald Tyson. Scrying For Beginners (For Beginners (Llewellyn’s)) (p. 200). Llewellyn - A. Kindle Edition.

During the occult revival of the late 19th and early 20th century, many people wrote about the aura. Theosophists and other occultists developed complex systems for understanding it. 

Madame Blavatsky and Walter Kilner believed there were distinct layers to the aura. They named them and sought to understand them.

As science merged with occultism, seers began to look for ways to measure the aura. There have been plenty of attempts. None were particularly fruitful.

Of note is “Kirlian Photography.” Symon and Valentina Kirlian developed this practice in 1940s Russia. It involves sending an electrical current through the individual.

A photographic plate records the resulting discharge. Later scientists argued that the image was more mundane. They believed the interaction of this electric field and ambient moisture caused it.

Today, most people seem to agree with that sentiment. Kirlian images recorded don’t behave in a manner consistent with how seers perceive the aura. For example, Kirlian images rarely change based on state of mind.

Despite many attempts, science still doesn’t understand the aura! For that reason, most people relegate it to the realm of metaphysics and occultism. I don’t have a problem with that.

I am supportive of science, but acknowledge that not everything is currently known. As a witch, I do believe in magick, for example. Magick itself isn’t understood or measurable by science. The aura isn’t, but I still find the concept useful.

Seeing the Aura

Over time, it has been evident that people can develop aura sight. I myself saw auras occasionally as a child. I did not have further experiences with this until I began studying magick, though. I don’t consider myself to have natural aura vision.

Still, I see auras in certain circumstances these days. It’s something I practiced and developed. While not everyone can develop this ability, most people can! The level of detail you see will vary, but why not try?

Now, I’ll give you my own method for inducing aura vision. It may or may not work for you. I have read that many other people found these techniques helpful, though.

It is best to begin by looking for your own aura. Some people do begin by working with a partner, though. For me, aura vision comes best when I’m a bit sleepy. I don’t have the focus for it when I’m completely exhausted, but a little sleepiness works well.

I’ve found that auras are easiest to see in a dim environment without bright artificial lights. Natural light in the early morning or evening works best for me. While some folks say candlelight works, I find that the flickering distracts me.

Some herbs and incense can help with aura sight. Herbal blends designed for psychic enhancement have worked well for me in the past. 

My favorite herb for inducing aura vision is mugwort. It is good for other magical purposes, as well. Do some research and be careful if you decide to try it, of course. Not everyone reacts well to herbs.

Begin by focusing your vision on the edges of the body. This is regardless of whether you’re working by yourself or with someone else. 

With other people, I like to fix my vision above the top of the head. When looking for my own aura, I extend my hand flat and at an angle. Then, I gaze above my palm.

This is tricky, though. It takes a lot of practice. It works best for me if I look at the space  close to the body, and try to ignore the body itself. It’s difficult, though. We’re used to looking directly at objects, not the area around them.

I would suggest not wearing very bright clothing when attempting this. That can be distracting. It’s also good to do this against a blank, uncolored surface, like a white wall.

The aura will usually appear first as a light shimmering in the air. This may have a wispy mist-like appearance. It usually begins with a grayish color. Once you can see this, focus on it, and not the object.

When you can see the aura very close to the body, begin to glance around that area. After a time, you will be able to see a larger, more diffuse part.

Aura Colors

While many people can see auras, not everyone can see aura colors. This is especially true for beginners. For those that don’t see colors, the aura appears as that shifting, shimmering mist.

If color does appear in the aura, focus on the color. It may seem to grow brighter and brighter. Most seers agree that the colors correspond to the nature of the person at that specific time. 

Some books will list “color meanings” for the aura. My view is a bit different. Aura colors do have meaning, but, to me, a given color’s meaning depends on the seer.

If you associate yellow with happiness, seeing a yellow aura would show that the subject is happy. We don’t all process color the same way! We tend to absorb cultural associations for certain colors. Still, everyone has a different view. Keep this in mind when reading the aura!

Conclusion

I hope this article provides a good beginning for potential aura seers! Developing aura vision is fun and exciting. You can learn about a person (and how to connect with them!) by examining their aura.

It can also be helpful for witches and magicians. It’s a good first step to seeing all kinds of subtle forces. If you can see them, it’s easier to connect with them! Anyways, I hope you’re all having a great day. May your magick be glorious!

accidentally?

Based on this prompt I said I’d fill a few days ago:

boss: “know why I called you in here?”
me: “because I accidentally sent you a dick pic”
boss: “accidentally?”

yup.

(on ao3)

“You need to stop pining after people you haven’t even spoken to,” Lydia says one day, probably because Derek—er, Mr. Hale, their boss—has just stepped through the front door of the cafe where they’re having lunch, and Stiles has trailed off mid-word to watch him walk up to the counter. In Stiles’ defense, he’s never seen Mr. Hale outside of the office before, let alone Mr. Hale wearing a leather jacket over his dress shirt. God, and Stiles thought the tailored suits were bad enough…

Anyway.

“Uh, I have too spoken to him,” Stiles says indignantly, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s broad back across the room. “One day I was coming out of the break room and I almost walked right into him and he said, ‘Excuse me,’ so then I said, ‘Oops,’ and he smiled at me. Kind of. A little bit. I mean, I interpreted it as a smile. There was some prolonged eye contact.”

Lydia abruptly stops stirring her fat-free latte to stare at him—one of those Oh god, it’s worse than I thought kind of looks. “That’s it?”

Keep reading

Mixed Black African Girl (Cameroonian/French)

I’m a mixed black african girl who grew up and lived most of her life in Cameroon, in Central Africa. My dad is half-white (french) and half-black (cameroonian), and my mom is 100% cameroonian. There’s little to no black african characters in popular fiction, which has always bothered me, and it would be so nice to read about someone like me for once.

  • Culture and food

Cameroon is a country created during colonization, with borders defined by europeans. Because of that, Cameroon is actually made of 200 ethnic groups, each of them having their own language and culture. So the culture and daily habits vary a lot depending on which region of Cameroon you are in. In the big cities, though, everyone is mingled no matter where they’re from. However, so many different ethnic groups cohabiting together often causes tension. There are also a lot of stereotypes about every ethnic group.

I grew up in the central and coastal areas of the country, and I’m Bassa. The Bassa are one of the main ethnic groups in Cameroon. If your parents are from two different ethnic groups, it is decided that you officially belong to your father’s ethnic group. My mother is Bakoko but my father is Bassa, so I’m the latter. When I meet another Cameroonian, two of the first questions we usually ask each other are : What are you (meaning, what’s your ethnic group) ? and Where is you village ?

Villages are very important in the Cameroonian culture. Your village is where your father’s ancestors were born. Even if you’re not born there, you usually have grandparents or great-uncles or family friends living there, and if you have enough money to do so you must regularly visit your village. And usually, when people earn enough money, they send money to their village so that people living there can have a better life, build more houses and schools etc.

Cameroonian food is very diverse, and varies depending on the region. The national dish is Ndolé, a dish made with ndolé leaves, stewed nuts, and meat (fish, beef or shrimps). Other common foods are bobolo and miondo (food made out of fermented manioc), soya (spicy grilled meat on skewers), and plantain. My dad is half-french though, so at home we eat almost as much french food as cameroonian food (crème brûlée, shepherd’s pie, beef bourguignon, A LOT of bread and cheese).

  • Language

There are hundreds of different languages, but the official languages are French and English. Cameroon was colonized by France and England so Northern Cameroon mainly speaks english and central/southern Cameroon mainly speaks french. Most people also speak their ethnic group’s language. I don’t know how to speak Bassa, though, because neither do my parents. When me and my siblings were kids, our dad asked our baby-sitter to teach us, but she could only do so much and I only remember a few words.

  • Beauty Standards

Like most countries, there is a lot of colorism in Cameroon based on European beauty standards. When you’re a woman, the lighter you are, the prettier and more desirable you are considered. Dark skinned women are often mocked and considered not as pretty. A lot of people, mainly women but also men, use dangerous products to lighten their skin. Internalized racism and white beauty standards are very insidious, and a lot of people want to look like white people, including me when I was younger. As a kid I remember wishing i was a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed white girl like the heroines of the books i was reading. Growing up I stopped wishing that, but I relaxed and straightened my hair a lot, wanting to have long straight hair without realizing that it was still an attempt to look like the ideal version of a white girl. I’m sure that if I had more black female characters to relate to when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have spend so many years hating myself without even realizing I was doing it.

Also, Cameroonians usually consider thick, curvy women to be the ideal beauty standard. But being thin is still an ideal broadcast by the media (especially that american and european media are heavily broadcast and consumed in Cameroon) so most women still diet a lot and go to the gym to lose weight.

  • Clothing

Women wear a lot of skirts and dresses, be it casual or for work. Most cameroonian schools have uniforms and mandatory hairstyles (either cornrows or short shaved hair).

Elderly people often wear more traditional clothes and outfits. The most prominent traditional item of clothing is the Kaba. The Kaba is a long dress made of wax fabric and other materials and is owned by pretty much every woman. The dress looks different depending on the situation : the Kaba you wear when you stay at home is usually very long and very loose, the Kaba you wear during official/formal events is more tight-fitting and stylized, etc.

  • Dating and Relationships

I’ve never dated anyone, but when I was in high school none of my friends ever told their parents they were seeing someone. Having your parents know about and meet the person you’re dating after only a few weeks or months is something that just doesn’t happen (unless someone gets pregnant). It’s when things get serious that you introduce them to your family. Also, a lot of parents would prefer their children to marry someone from the same ethnic group.

Homosexuality is still illegal there, and you can go to jail for being gay.

  • Home/Family life

My parents are still happily married, and I have 3 siblings. My parents are both close to their siblings, and I’m close to mine. Me and my siblings grew up with our cousins, we were always at each other’s houses. I pretty much consider most of my cousins as extra siblings. We have a very big extended family and every day I discover new distant cousins, aunts, great-uncles etc. My dad being half-french, when I was growing up we sometimes went to France during summer to visit his relatives living there.

In Cameroon, most people who have enough money to do so send their children to study abroad once they’ve graduated high school. I’m currently living in France for my studies, and most of my high school friends are also going to college in France, England, Canada, Brussels, South Africa etc.

  • Identity issues

Despite being only ¼ white, I’m very light-skinned. My siblings being much darker skinned, when I was a kid I thought I was adopted (i’m not, it’s just genetics). Cameroon being a black country, when someone is visibly mixed and light-skinned as i am, most people just label them “white”. A lot of people would refer to me as “the white” and it always really hurt me. My family wouldn’t understand why i was so angry and hurt, they’d say “they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that you’re light” but the fact is it made me feel like i don’t belong. I’m cameroonian, i’ve lived in Cameroon almost my entire life, i’m black, and still some people see me as “other”, they see me as white. And so for a long time, I didn’t dare to call myself black, I’d say “I’m biracial” or “I’m mixed” instead because I somehow felt like a fraud. But I’m black and not white-passing at all, and I still experience racism abroad (but I’m aware I have a lot more privilege than dark skinned people).

  • Daily struggles

So I’m currently living in France. On one hand, sometimes white people are racist toward me, or just totally obnoxious and ignorant, trying to touch my natural hair and thinking that people in Cameroon don’t have computers or whatever. On the other hand, when I randomly meet other cameroonians and we start talking, they always assume that because i’m mixed i’ve lived my entire life in France and i don’t know anything about Cameroon. And there’s nothing wrong with being a child of immigrants and not knowing the country your parents or grandparents came from, but i know that if i wasn’t visibly mixed they wouldn’t question the fact that i know Cameroon and lived there my entire life.

  • Misconceptions

Because of how the media depict African countries, a lot of people think that everyone in Africa is extremely poor and starving, that we don’t have electricity and internet and that everyone lives in huts. Which is so false. We have rich people and poor people, we have huge modern cities and regular cities and small villages with huts, almost everyone has access to a tv and internet, etc.

  • Things I’d like to see less of

Cameroon and other african countries being depicted as poor unfortunate countries where everyone is starving and illiterate and waiting for the generous white people to save us. What we need is for people to see us as the humans we are, and to allow us to grow in peace.

  • Things I’d like to see more of

Black african characters being written as the complex human beings we are. Shy black african characters. Nerdy and hella smart black african characters. Mixed black african characters who struggle with their identity. LGBTQ black african characters.

  • Tropes/Stereotypes I’m tired of seeing.

The “savage”, “uncivilized” african. African characters who are aggressive, dumb and shout all the time. The poor africans in need of saving by white people.

Read more POC Profiles here or submit your own.

Jaws - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky accidentally punches you in the face during a training session, which somehow leads to your first kiss and the promise of a date.

Warnings: Kissing.

Words: 1 328

A/N: Very boring drabble that is kinda similar to Lift in terms of the layout. Tell me what you think and please request!

TAKING REQUESTS

Originally posted by you-didnt-see-that-cuming


She ducked under his punch, getting back up just as quickly and trying to elbow his chest. He grabbed hold of her joint and pushed her back. As she came rushing back in for a straight punch to his face, his metal hand flew right to her jaw.

She staggered back before falling to her knees. Her hair fell in front of her face and a few strands stuck to her glistening forehead, a long groan escaping her.

“Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m so sorry!” Bucky panicked, surprised as he thought she would have been able to see through his techniques as always and dodged his incoming attack.

He rushed to her side and knelt beside her, wrapping his arm around her back and using his free hand to remove the hair from her face. She whined in pain, trying to force a smile to not make him feel so bad but not being able to. “Okay, that one hurts… I’m not gonna lie.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He carefully tilted her head to get better lightning on her jaw which was red, bruising and already swollen. “Fuck. That’s bad.”

“I don’t know if it’s anything serious, but I can taste blood?” She looked up at him. “Maybe that’s just normal. Also, my left ear is ringing, or it might be my entire head actually, I can’t tell the difference right now.”

Bucky kept repeatedly mumbling curses as he softly placed his bionic hand over the bruise. She winced in pain at first but the cooling of the metal was better than not having it there at all.

“Remind me to wear a hockey helmet for our next training session or something…” She began to push herself up from the floor. Bucky tried to help her by continuing to hold his arm around her back, which turned out to be very helpful.

“Woah!” He exclaimed as she almost fell forward, his grip of her tightening and keeping her on her feet. “You okay?”

“I just got punched in the face with a hand that’s literally made out of metal. Pardon me if I’m a little dizzy.” She chuckled, her voice strained from the pain radiating up her jaw and numbing the area around it. She turned to face Bucky, her hand carefully touching the swollen bump. “Does it look bad?”

Yeah.

“No.” He lied. “It looks alright.”

“Liar.” She could see straight through him, of course. She always could. “Oh man, and Tony’s birthday party is this weekend.”

“That’s five days away.” Bucky tried to remain hopeful.

She looked over at him, her eyes hooded and her eyebrows raised high, circulating the area where he had punched her. “By the sheer agony I’m in right now, I can tell this isn’t going to go away in five days.”

“I’m sorry…” He pleaded and she dropped her sarcastic attitude, feeling bad for the poor guy.

“I know you are. It’s okay. I’ve had worse. Remember when I got shot in the damn hand in Serbia? When I had to drive the car to the hospital with that hand, the gear lever nearly went through the bullet hole.”

He chuckled after seeing her smile at the brutal recall of a mission two years prior.

“Or when you went two weeks in pain because you thought your body was “healing slowly”, when in reality you had a completely broken arm?” He remembered and she nodded, quietly chuckling before suddenly closing her eyes, grabbing his hand. She pulled it towards her jaw and held it still over, leaning into it whilst still not looking.

Bucky watched in admiration as she dozed off for a few seconds in the comfort of his touch.

“Alright. I’m gonna call this a day. It’s getting late, I think. You must have punched my sense of time out of me.” She smiled and broke loose from him, heading for the gym door slowly.

“Maybe sleeping isn’t that good of an idea? You could have a concussion!” He warned, worried about her health truthfully.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself.” She joked, making it seem as if giving her a concussion had been something Bucky had strived for. He wanted to oblige and take her to Bruce, or anyone else that might be awake at two in the morning and have the skill to properly help her. “So goodnight, or good morning, or whatever.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the gym, feeling more guilty than ever.


He was sat at the kitchen table, eating the scrambled eggs which surprisingly enough, Vision had cooked. Steve sat across Bucky, Peter beside Steve, and Tony and Natasha on both short ends when Y/N came sulking down.

“Good morning- Jesus Christ.” Steve gasped as he got a look of her. “What happened to your face?”

The entire left side of her jaw was covered in a rich, purple bruise. As she smiled, she clearly did so more on the right side than the other. “Why don’t you ask Mr. I-Have-A-Metal-Arm?” She said, pointing to a Bucky.

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky repeated and she tried to smile wider but winced, letting it fall back.

“I know, Buck. Heard you the first, hundred, times.” She attempted to reassure him although it had little effect. “You better buy me something amazing to cover this up tho.”

“I don’t think anything can cover that up. That’s brutal.” Natasha said, her nose scrunching up in slight disgust at the vicious color of Y/N’s jaw.

“Thanks.” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes, and taking a seat by the table. Vision left the stove and came to her aid with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “And an honest thank you to you, Vis.”

“You want some ice for that?” Tony tried to help as Y/N grabbed the chilled glass of orange juice in front of her and held it against her jaw. She shook her head subtly and shut her tired eyes, propping her elbows on the table and leaning her head against her free hand.

“I’m good.” She said and pulled herself together, opening her eyes widely to wake up and taking a sip of the orange juice already by her mouth. “I’ll avoid training sessions with Bucky for awhile though.”

“I’m s-”

“Cut it. I’m alive, aren’t I? Still breathing. Heart’s still pumping.” She said and shoved a fork full of bacon in her mouth. The breakfast carried on, following up with an overly large glass of chocolate milk on Y/N’s part. They all chatted, bickering as usual, before everyone retreated to their own corner of the Tower  to continue their days separately.

As Y/N made it to her room, there were two knocks on the door. She didn’t have to guess who it was. She knew it was Bucky and she knew he would try to apologize once more.

She pulled the door open and barely had time to confirm it was him before a pair of soft lips crashed upon hers. She staggered backwards and Bucky broke loose, eyes blown wide. “Let me take you out to dinner, as an apology for punching you.”

“And you had to kiss me to ask me out!?” She questioned, out of breath. Bucky shrugged.“

“No, I just wanted to.” He said like it was the most normal thing in the world to walk around kissing.

“Well damn…” She closed the space again and savored another kiss, sighing in relief. She tried to not cause herself too much pain, letting him do most of the moving.

“I’m-”

“Don’t you dare say that word one more time or I swear to god I’ll punch your jaw.” She threatened and he chuckled, lips hovering in front of hers.

“It wouldn’t leave as much as a scratch.” His lips curled around hers, tasting the sweetness lingering to them.

“You’re so cocky, you know that? It’s tiring.”

foofoocuddlypoopsgavesokkaapples  asked:

Can you do more of that mafia au? Like, the team's reaction when they learn abt it through a mind meld thing and shiro is all like "You're a Salazar?!" And it causes shit. Also, can the dad be named Ernesto? Like, I was watching a Mexican telenovela in Spanish class and there was a mafia leader named Ernesto Salazar. It's called "La Tempestad" if you wanna watch it. I hope you do, it's really good.

I still don’t know how the MafiaAU gained a lot of attention (why did this gained a lot of attention? Can someone tell me the reason? I think we all just want to see Iverson to go down.) but here is Part 2. Oh, I like it. Okay, I’ll name the Dad as ‘Ernesto’. I’ll try to watch that show when I get the chance :) .

Warnings: OOCness, AU, some grammatical errors.


After five years of fighting against a war that was on going for the past ten thousand years, Allura finally got the chance to grant the wishes of her Paladins to temporarily go back home. Sure, there were still loose ends that were supposed to be taken care of but it wouldn’t hurt to let the other planetary leaders to handle it for a while. After all, everyone agreed that team Voltron needed some well-deserved vacation.

Throughout all those five years, Allura learned a lot of stuff from her Paladins and in return she watched them grew more as a human and as a soldier. They taught her how to have fun from time to time and cherish every minute of relaxation with her second family. They taught her that she should not devote her whole life fighting, that she had people watching her back and would never judge her if she would trip and fall. They taught her that it was fine to make mistakes as long as she would learn to reflect upon those said mistakes. And most of all, they taught her to trust them indefinitely.

If there was one Paladin that confused her the most then Allura would definitely chose Lance.

The Blue Paladin initially showed himself as this person that never took things seriously unless it was a life and death situation, flirty in a point that always leave Allura exasperated (but later on she accepted it as part of Lance’s nature and she would not change it in any other way), say things that sound idiotic some of the times but a good strategist especially in abrupt situations like being trapped or ambushed by the enemies. All in all, Lance was a human that always contradicted himself from the way he let others know him. At least that how Allura had perceived it.

Lance even became the face and voice of Voltron when it comes to diplomatic situations. Sure, Allura was the Princess and Shiro was the leader of the Paladins, but they could never mirror Lance’s charisma and the way he weaved his words to gain the favour of important individuals. From these situations, Allura eventually learned that some flirting of Lance was used to make the other person to let their guard down and gain their trust. It was as if Lance was trained ever since he could speak on how to have such silver tongue.

A bit of praise in here, a bit of touch there, a little bit of a dance, a little bit of sympathy, and Voltron already gained a new ally by the end of the night. All thanks to Lance.

Shiro once tried to open the discussion about family backgrounds. Pidge and Hunk ended up crying in that session because they suddenly realized how much they missed their blood relatives. Keith tried to play it down on how he didn’t have a family to miss on Earth but he still didn’t get away from the group hug. Lance simply smiled sadly and mumbled something along the lines of ‘at least I cut off some ties…still miss my Mom’s hugs though…’. Shiro attempted to make Lance to speak more about it but the Blue Paladin remained silent for the rest of the session.

They all changed a lot in the course of five years.

Lance’s changed though was like a flip of the switch.

After that hysteric laughter that one fateful breakfast and with an added disturbing explanation, Lance started acting as if the weight of the world was finally off his shoulders. His shooting skills improved in a speed level that Allura was inclined to think that Lance was born with a gun on his hands. His hand to hand combat didn’t rely on strength alone but more in flexibility. Allura never thought that dancing could also be used as a form of combat. As days passed, Lance gave a few opinions here and there on their battle strategies that ended up with them having low casualties compared to the initial plans.

What bothers Allura the most though…was the way Lance gathered his information. He was not like Pidge that hacks in the system. No, Lance liked to do his information gathering in person. Often times it was the Blue Paladin who corners commanders of the ships they were raiding. Lance would take a lot of time but eventually he would return with more information than they have gathered from the ship’s database. The specks of bloods on his body though didn’t escape Allura, Coran, and Shiro’s attention. All of them have the same assumption that Lance used torture to get what he wanted.

It was an assumption that was never proven but could not be denied also. Allura feared that it was her fault that Lance changed so drastically, that he showed more thirst for blood like a soldier excited for a new battle, all because she pushed her Paladins in a war that they were not aware that was happening in the first place.

But all of it was better left in the back of her mind for now. Today was a day for her Paladins, a few months on Earth would do them some good. They explained to her and Coran that it was much better if the Earth’s government would still remain unaware of the existence of other life forms outside of Earth. Hunk and Pidge told her that humans might be in par with the Galra when it comes to experimenting the unknown. Most humans would rather treat aliens like mindless animals than creatures with feelings. Shiro suggested to them that it was better to leave the Castle of Lions outside of Earth’s radar, meaning they needed to stop out of the Milky Way Galaxy, and just use the pods to get near to their home planet.

Surprisingly, it was Lance who suggested a safe place to land. They left the Castle in the hands of a few friends they managed to have through the years of fighting the Galra empire and set course for the coordinates that Lance gave to them.


Hunk was so excited to finally meet Lance’s family…wait, that could probably be said a bit better but that was what he still meant. Hunk never had the opportunity to visit Lance’s home and family even if they had been friends for years. It was always Lance who visited Hunk during vacations and holidays and never the other way around. So for Lance to suggest a place to land and when he realized that it was the beloved beach that the Blue Paladin always talked about with his best friend, Hunk could not contain his excitement. 

“We’re here!!!” Hunk heard the enthusiastic scream coming from Lance and chuckled himself when Shiro shouted words of caution to their Blue Paladin, which was went unheard due to the happy cheers.

One by one they all followed Lance and soon reached the only building found in the area, at least the area that could only be reached by their eyes.

Through all the years they had traveled in outer space, Hunk saw a lot of vacation houses. He saw a lot and it was enough to say that the one if front of them could be classified as one. The house itself might be 250 square meters, excluding the garden part, it has three floors with a rooftop and balcony. The color scheme was a mix between shades of blue and streaks of white, ocean waves and Earth sea creatures adorned the walls while tropical flowers was engraved in the pillars and glass windows.

Long story short, it was like a vacation house owned by a very rich family.

“¡Bienvenido a mi casa!” Lance said with outstretched arms to emphasize the house behind him, “Well…at least for now. This is not the main house after all. But make yourself at home to my vacation house! Tomorrow we will take a plane to Italy and meet my whole family!” he was about to run away again but Hunk held him firm this time before leaving them behind.

“Wait, Lance, buddy, my friend, what do you mean by ‘going to Italy and meet my whole family’ thing?”

“Also, did you just said that this is your vacation house?! Are you some kind of rich kid here on Earth?!” Pidge was clutching her hair, that has grown past her shoulders, as if it could help her making sense of the information she had just been given.

“Um…oops?”

“Oops? Oops?! That’s all you can say?! Why you—!”

“Relax, Pidgeon!” Lance put his hands in surrender, “Let’s take a rest for now! I’ll answer your questions tomorrow once we got to that main house!”

Pidge was still steaming with mix emotions but decided to let it go with an angry huffed. Lance might be the most talkative human she had ever met but he rarely pull out personal information like family backgrounds.

“Okay now? Follow me!”

As they were walking towards the entrance, Keith asked an important question, “How are you so sure that this place still belongs to you? I mean, it’s been five years, right?”

Lance looked back at the group with a playful smile on his face.

“I just know it. Besides, this place was a gift for me by the Decimo himself.”

Decimo?

That was the question that revolved around everyone’s mind. Allura and Coran was just confused by the baffled expression of the rest of the Paladins towards Lance so they opted to stay quiet. This was not their planet after all. They still don’t know the majority of human customs due to its diversities.

Before Lance could knock, the door suddenly opened and they were greeted by a scene that they thought could only be found by exaggerated movies. For before them, four maids to the right and four butlers to the left were lined in a row. Judging from the posture of the man and woman who opened the door it was safe to assume that they were the heads.

What caught Shiro’s attention though was the banner that was proudly displayed on the wall directly on the path of the entrance. It had the symbol of a beautiful mermaid with her tail wrapped around a bullet and the sides were designed with twin towers. It was a very familiar insignia for Shiro and he was sure he had seen it during his years in Japan.

Everything clicked in though when the maids and butlers spoke simultaneously.

“Welcome back, Young Master Lance Salazar.”

Shiro looked at Lance like he had just seen him for the very first time. The others just felt their jaws dropped at the sudden revelation.

“You’re a Salazar?! As in that Salazar?! Salazar Familia?!”

This time, Lance gave them a mischievous smirk that was clearly up to no good.

“Oops.” There was no remorse or guilt laced tone when Lance said that.


Part 3? Anyone wants a Part 3?

Langst Mini fic

Previous / Next

are you drunk, mrs. lahey?

Originally posted by lovershub

a night out with the girls takes a surprising turn of events, and isaac’s not likely to deny his wife what she wants. (humor/smut)

Keep reading

single dad , boxer!tom ♡ head canon

Summary: the biggest surprise of his life turned out to be the biggest miracle

Requested?: anon said: “since we aLL LOVED CEO!TOM AS A SINGLE DAD HEAD CANNONS, CAN YOU DO THE SAME WITH YOUR OWN TWIST WITH BOXER!TOM PLEASE?” HELL YES HERE WE GO 

WC: 2238

Warnings: Some language

Author’s Note: i went a bit over board, part 2, anyone? feedback is always welcome 


  • Amelia had taken over Tom’s world completely from the moment she landed on his doorstep at a young age of 2 with nothing but a note and a birth certificate
  • Tom was quite surprised to open his apartment door one morning on the way out to training only to find a small girl with wide eyes looking up at him
    • Oddly enough he was thrown off guard by the fact it felt like looking into a much smaller mirror
  • He wasn’t sure how long she had been there and tried to talk to her
  • She had looked down at her shoes, not engaging in much conversation with him
  • “Are you lost, darling?”
  • She’d shake her little head
  • “Mom said stay here”
  • And her small voice would squeak out a barely coherent sentence, making Tom squat down to her level
    • “Where’s your mum?”
    • “She left”
  • Poor Tom would have been so confused
  • He’d set down his gym bag and focus all of his attention on helping this “lost little girl”
  • Amelia wore a backpack on her frail shoulders, so Tom had thought maybe he could find some contact information in there
  • “Can I please see your backpack? It’s quite pretty!”
  • She’d perk up at his compliment and take it off of her shoulders, now excited to show him every feature of it
  • Tom couldn’t help but smile softly at the little girl who was rather excited to show off her backpack, as he found it quite adorable
  • He agreed to let her to unzip it, revealing a stash of clothing and a few papers tucked away
  • “May I see those papers, please?”
  • His voice would switch to a much gentler tone, hoping to coax her into allowing him to see if there was any useful information as to help her find her mum 
  • The soft brunette curls atop her head bounced slightly as she nodded, eager to share with Tom
  • He pulled the papers out and unfolded them, only to find a birth certificate accompanied by a multi-page letter
  • Curiosity coursed through him and he opted to read the birth certificate first
  • He smoothed out the paper as his eyes scanned the document
  • “So, your name is Amelia Grace Holl-”
  • His eyes would go tremendously wide
    • It would kind of click now after taking in her much similar appearance to him
  • She stared up at him with her eyes that now held a whole new meaning
  • He sat on the ground, Amelia copying his actions clumsily
  • She watched him intently as he reviewed the letter that was in his hands
  • He didn’t even remember her mother fully, a one night stand he was sure happened after a victory for a successful boxing match or something to that effect
  • He let out a heavy sigh, Amelia mimicking him
  • His heart warmed, for the first time in a very long time, as she giggled after copying him

Keep reading

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part II)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: none; S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?

Word count: almost 4k

A/N: yo this blew up way more than i ever thought it would thank you so much for the support <3

Dedicated to: @quixoticcat, @skymoonandstardust, @girliciousdreams, @captainbitchslap, @awkward–jay, @fandomlover03, and @daesunglg

PART 1

~*~*~*~*~

Friday arrives much faster than anticipated. It’s a warm, brisk morning, the sunlight raining down and painting  Massachusetts with a summery essence. Fallen leaves litter the yards of suburban homes and a canopy of those that remain is spread across the road, only a few dots of light peering through.


“Textbook illustration of the apple-pie life.” Dean remarks as he steers the car down a long strip of tarmac. “God…it’s making me sick already.”


“Hold it down. You know I don’t want you throwing up on any of my family members.” Y/N admonishes, letting her gaze avert from watching the houses roll by and unto the elder Winchester; today, despite her attempts to persuade him,  he’s still settled on wearing his usual hunter get-up—jeans and a plaid (obviously)—and his chin is adorned with a feint patch of stubble. His eyes are set on the road, focused, but she don’t miss the way his mouth quirks up at the remark.


Sam laughs as his eyes follow the array of little homes. “Noted.” He says. “Anything else Dean needs to know should probably be voiced out right now. You don’t want him making a fool out of himself around your family either.”


“We talked about this already last night.” The elder Winchester groans.


“No cussing around my mom, no crude jokes, saying the grace is a must, and—“


“And be sure to talk politics with your dad. Yes, I got all of that the first hundred times you told me.” Dean, rolling his eyes, makes a turn for the left and Y/N heaves a sigh of relief. They pass a group fo teenagers walking to school (way too late).


“Okay.” Y/N sighs, then raises her finger for emphasis. “Oh—also, be sure to try and interact with all my brothers. They love that.”

“We’ve met your family before, Y/N.” Sam’s eyes never leave his screen as he twiddles away at his phone.


They had; at the birth of her hunting career with the boys, years back, Y/N had had to make trip down to Massachusetts to handle a siren case that the Winchester’s provided extra muscle for. Their time in town had been spent at her parents’ home.


“I know, but this is different.” She defends. “Dean is….” She pauses, eyes skittering over to the elder Winchester for not so much as a second before they return. “….my boyfriend. Or pretending to be my boyfriend. There’s going to be a lot of pressure.”


“Your folks don’t seem like the type.”


“I just want to rub it in their faces that I’m.”—she raises her hands in finger quotes—“not single anymore so that they’ll get off my case.”


The elder Winchester nods slowly, pulling a face. “Makes sense.”


“Not really.”


“Shut up, Sam.”


The younger Winchester finally lifts his head from his phone. His gaze bounces from Y/N to Dean. “What did Cas say, by the way?”


“About tagging along?” Dean casts a brief glance into the backseat. “Not much. He said that he doesn’t see why we need him there anyway. I told him Y/N’s sister was getting married and she gets to bring a couple of friends, and seeing as we’re the only ones she has…” He trails off. Y/N then smacks him on the shoulder, earning a satisfied smile. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I told him that we want him to come with.”


“And he said no?”


Dean shrugs and continues to drive. The conversation ends there for a moment, and once a silence spreads throughout the car, Dean tunes the radio on and Y/N turns her head to the window.


Trees and houses and roads oh so familiar from her childhood escapades through this tone roll by. Streets, cafes. Although vast and very busy, she knows this place like the back of her hand; the local pool where their family used to go on weekends, the private schools she bounced between. Just down the road, wedged in the valley nearby are the woods where she encountered her first monster at the tender age of sixteen.


So many memories. So much attachment. Y/N hates Massachusetts more than anything; because it reminds her of how idyllic her life was before she started hunting. It reminds her of people and of places and everything the rest of her peers experienced that she didn’t get to; hunting whisked her away from her life, stripped her of a regular teenage hood. But then again, she’s not complaining.


She chose this life. She chose Sam and Dean. She loves Sam and Dean. You can tell her that the sky is red and that pigs fly and she’ll still believe all that first before she believes that they boys are anything but her family.


Boston is a few kilometers off the highway, down a winding road lined by thick trees and shrubbery, and with a few residential buildings scattered around. Despite being a large neighborhood dotted with mansions and the like, it’s a lot quieter. The rumble of the Impala’s engine is evident as Dean, instructed by Y/N, steers his way through. The outline of the city is painted against the canvas of the bright blue sky as they approach. The traffic, taken the time of day, is minimal and so they manage to get to the hotel in time.


In the parking, Dean kills the engine immediately, and then, heaving a heavy sigh, turns to Y/N.


His face speaks no ounce of nervousness, which only makes the young girl’s stomach coil into a tighter knot. She wants him to be nervous. One of them has to, and Dean’s placidity leaves room for only her own anxiety. “So….?”


“So…” She replies, trying to ease away her own nerves. Her hands feel clammy and the back of her neck is hot.  “Just don’t be nervous, yeah? My parents are like predators—they can smell your anxiety a mile away.”


“Not helping.”


“Not supposed to.”


“I feel like I should be telling that you, Y/N.” Dean remarks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”


“No, I’m not.” She is. It’s a terrible lie and very evidently so, but thankfully none of the boys say anything. Instead, however, Dean reaches out and envelopes her hand in his. Y/N then stills, and feels the color drain from her face.


The contact is warm, assuring. Her hands slides perfectly into his and their fingers intertwine, palms pressed flat.


“We’re gonna kick ass.” Dean says confidently. Y/N doesn’t hear him—she’s looking at him, staring him dead in the eye, but the words enter one ear and fly out the other because her hand is in his and it’s nice.


It’s nice.


They’ve never held hands before, not like this. Dean guiding her through a dark path on a hunt, Y/N pulling him with her as she runs from a vampire. Their hands have definitely touched before, and their skin has definitely grazed before, but this is so alien to Y/N, because it feels nice and like everything that it’s not supposed to.


Dean stares into the young girl’s gaze as he tugs on her hand, offering a brief smile. “Come on.” He goes to open the door. “We’re gonna be late.”


Once his hand leaves hers, it’s like her trance has been diminished, like spell once cast over her has been broken. She floats back to reality. Sam is hauling their bags out from the trunk, she realizes, and Dean is trying to fit as many weapons into his luggage (just in case) as he can. She quickly gets out. The hotel, adorned with a very tropical theme, is down a strip of cobbled path with a few plants at the sides. Y/N follows the Winchesters, trying to keep the pace, when she hears Dean call to her.


She turns. “Huh?”


“Give me your bag.” He says, his hand open as they walk. Y/N stares at him for a moment, eyes glazed over. She’s still a bit dazed. Looking at Dean now feels alien and almost unreal, like she’s looking in one of those funny funhouse mirrors. Maybe it’s just the stress of this wedding, or the heat, she thinks, trying to brush it off


“Oh, uhm.”


“I got it.”But before she can speak, Sam plucks the rucksack from her and hoists it up on his back. Dean scoffs.


“Wow, Sam.”He rolls his eyes as they approach the hotel. Towering above them, it’s a giant of a building, quaint balconies perched up on room, it’s years and history written out in the way vines climb in slender tendrils along the stone walls. Inside, the ceiling climbs so high one might think it reaches the heavens


“Maybe Y/N should have asked you to play her boyfriend instead.” Dean remarks as they stroll in. The place is packed; an eclectic cloud of people roams the room, all with their luggage in hand.


Sam smirks. “Maybe she should have.”


“The reception’s over there.”


Y/N points to the desk ahead. Shuffling through the crowd, the trio makes their way over to the counter, the receptionist smiling at them. She’s young, probably older than them, but still her skin is taut and plump and her brown eyes gleam as she speaks. She types something into the computer and in a moment heir rooms are assigned, all courtesy of her family. Sam has agreed to carry everything upstairs and meet them at the lounge, so Y/N and Dean decide the time alone can be used to go over their ground rules again.


They wander over to the bar, a noticeable distance between them. The room is ambient, lit up by little warm lights suspended from the high-set ceiling despite it being day. Slow jazz music floats through the crowded room. As soon as they settle down, swarming like locusts in a field, the waiters come over, all trying to fix a menu in their faces until Dean ushers them away and says that they’re not hungry. Y/N is a little bit disappointed—she hasn’t eaten all morning—but says nothing, instead focusing on the man before her.


“Can I cuss around your sister?” Dean asks as he leans back in his seat.


Y/N nods vigorously, her expression saying that the answer is quite obvious. “S/P/N’s got a mouth like a sailor. A little profanity won’t hurt. Not around my parents though.”


“Not around your mum…?”


“Not around either.” She says. “They hate it, think it makes you look delinquent.”


Dean nods thoughtfully, then goes on asking various questions. Time seems to drift by unnoticed, the conversation bouncing from one end to another like a ball in a tennis court.


“Can I drink?”


“Sure.”


“Smoke…?”


Y/N wrinkles her brow in uncertainty. “You don’t smoke.” She says; it’s a firm statement, a proclamation rather than a question


“But if I had to?“


“Fine.” The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.  Dean chuckles. The sound is precise and brief but still manages to bring a shy smile to her face.  Moments later, the table has quieted for some reason, so Y/N lifts her gaze to Dean, regarding him curiously. She knows that look—it’s hard not to when she’s seen it so many times, with Sam or Cas, or even first hand. Gaze set on the floor, his lip is tucked between his teeth and he runs his tongue over his lips, his contemplation evident until he finally looks up.


“So,” The elder finally allows their eyes to meet. “What about us? You know…our boundaries, instructions. Do’s and don’ts. What do we say if we get the stereotypical how did you meet quiz?”


“Doesn’t really matter.” She waves a dismissive hand and then leans back in her seat. The fiber of the backrest presses into her back, crackling quietly. “My parents already know we met through hunting, but we could always just use some other cover with my other relatives.”


“So we lie?”


She quirks a teasing brow and smiles. “You have no problem lying that you’re an FBI agent basically every day. Lying that you met me on vacation or something can’t really be that hard…?”


“Where was our vacation to?”


“So we’re settling on the vacation-thing?”


Dean shrugs. “Any other options? I’m sorta just following here. It’s your plan.”


“Don’t say it like that. We’re a team, Dean.”


“Right, almost forgot that.” The elder Winchester chuckles and shakes his head. “Okay. What if we met on unconventional grounds? Maybe I nearly ran your dog over and you got pissed, so you tried flagging down my car and threatened to press charges. You didn’t, of course. My good looks and wit managed to persuade you into changing your mind and just having dinner with me instead.”


Y/N rolls her eyes at the green-eyed hunter, her mouth quirked upwards. “Is that your definition of romance? It sounds like bad lifetime movie.”


“It’s realistic.”


“It’s dumb.”


Dean pouts, then folds his arms and leans back in the chair. “Whatever.” He grumbles. “You think something up then.”


“Vacation it is.”


“You’re insufferable.”


A wide grin stretches across Y/N’s face and she revels in the victory, when Sam walks up. He comes up from behind her, the only indication of his arrival being the way Dean’s eyes dart to the space past her seat.


“You guys aren’t eating?”  He asks, pulling out a seat from the table nearby. He sits and turns to Dean.


“Do you want to?” The elder Winchester looks to Y/N—he’s asking her.


Opening her mouth to speak, she’s about to decline (because they don’t have time to sit and eat anyway), but the grumbling in her stomach reminds her of her hunger. The sound is embarrassingly loud. Her mouth instantly shuts, and Dean’s eyes widen.


“Shut up.” Y/N chastises as her cheeks are swarmed with pink. The elder Winchester doesn’t listen. He begins to howl with laughter, clasping his stomach, and Sam snickers along with him.


“Whatever.” She turns her head, scowling, as his laughter begins to melt away. Leaning back in his seat, little bubbles of laughter escape him, and he lifts his hand.


“Waiter.”He calls. A few feet away, with long curly blond hair, one of the servers from earlier turns. Dean’s ruddy face smiles at him as he calls him over. He scuttles over, a polite smile on his face.


“Yes, sir?”


“What do you want, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is ribbing and smug.


“Shut up.” The young girl rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the waiter. He’s young and his face is dotted with little pink spots of acne. She orders a chicken salad, just like Sam, and Dean goes for stake. Moments later, the food arrives, hot and scented with herbs and spices.


They eat and then, stuffed and satisfied, head up to their rooms to get cleaned up. Y/N just got a call from her parents asking where they are, that they’ve been waiting on them for a while now and everyone is already arriving


when they finally get to their room, Sam waiting out in the hallway, she and the elder Winchester hurry to get ready. Y/N curls her hair and throws on some mascara while Dean runs a quick shower.


“Okay, this is it.” She says, standing by the bed; the light from outside floods the area, bringing out the very delicate and chic design: the walls, painted mocha brown, are adorned with little trinkets and the bedspread is a light toffee color. There’s a potted palm in one of the corners, candles practically everywhere, and the wooden floor is warm beneath her bare feet.


“Operation Wedding Crasher is in pursuit.” Y/N says to Dean


Standing in the bathroom, he’s just gotten out of the shower and is trying to fix his hair, running his fingers through it and muttering profanities beneath his breath. She’d insisted that he changed—taken how many outfits he’s recycled, she’s pretty sure he wore that very one years ago when he first met her parents


“Roger that.” He takes one last look in the mirror, checking his stubble and hair, then walks over to the bed where his shirt sits.


Y/N tries not to stare at his bare-chested form as he quickly slips on the shirt, the front undone and exposing his caramel-colored skin. Instead, she clears her throat and turns away. This is the only way; if she doesn’t, she’s going to end up drooling a puddle on the floor or letting her gaze linger for too long, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. As if things weren’t awkward enough back in the car.


She then looks down at her hand, once encased in Dean’s, the marks from her battles with monster’s still there. There’s a little crescent shaped scar sticking out in her palm that speaks of a hunt years ago, a hunt with a rugaroo that ended in tears and blood and Y/N clasping onto Dean’s shirt for dear life. It’s hard to forget. She can recall getting it, can remember the pain of having to kill that young girl because of the abomination she had come, can still taste the blood on her tongue and feel the pain in her hand.


This life has left her with various moments like that. It’s a packaged deal when you’re a hunter, a sort of terms-and-conditions scenario, to have at least one hunt that has managed to strip you of normality. Something that took you over the line that separates you from the regular world—that was it for Y/N. She was it. That girl couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Having her blood on her hands had definitely been the initiation into the hunter’s game for Y/N.


She has been through so much in her time as a hunter and it shows; on her face and on her body. On her hands. She runs a finger along the tissue, watching it intently. Dean is speaking in the background, saying something to her that she can’t decipher because she forgets to for a moment, until the memory nudges at her conscience once more. The rugaroo hunt. Her scar.


It had been Dean to help her that night. It had been him and his nobility to carry her out of that house before she could bleed out; it had been him and his care, his selflessness, that got her to the car parked miles away from the woods they were in; it had been Dean to stop the bleeding and the tears that seemed to rain from her eyes after she killed that young girl and it had been his hands to cloth the wound in her own.


It had been and it will always be Dean, because Dean is her family.


“Y/N?” He says, pulling her from her reverie.


The young girl immediately looks up and whips around, facing the elder Winchester who is already dressed and ready to go. Y/N’s eyes widen; she doesn’t say it, but the outfit change was definitely a good idea.


Because wow.


Her eyes rake up and down the green-eyed hunter’s structure, taking in the sight of his crisp burgundy button up and dress pants—he looks stunning. He always looks stunning. It’s not weird for Y/N to say because it’s Dean and everyone notices his attractiveness upon first encounter, but this is a whole different case. It’s still him, of course. His eyes are still vibrant green, breaching into a hazel-gold, and his hair is still chestnut brown and his smile and his heart and everything Dean Winchester is still evidently there, but it’s just…different, like looking at the same thing but from a different angle.


“Uhm…” He draws out after a while.


Y/N looks back up to his eyes; her face then flushes and she swallows. “Sorry, uh” She stumbles, clasping her hands together and trying to regain her composure”—you were saying?”


Dean is smirking. “I look that good, huh?”


“Oh, shut up.”


He chuckles. The first few buttons of his shirt are popped and you can see a patch of caramel-tinted skin peering out at you, a feint scar on his collarbone adding some extra touch. “I was saying that we should get going. Sam’s already waiting up for us.”


“Right. Uhm, so we’ve gone over everything, yeah? You get the plan?”


“Yes. Act like we’re dating.”


“Act like we’re in love.” Y/N corrects as she grabs her satchel from the bed and goes to Dean at the door. She stands, body facing him. “There’s a big difference. My parents are going to be all over my case for these two weeks if they see that you and I don’t have any chemistry.”


“We already do, though.” He defends.


“Whatever. Then let’s amp it up—mega chemistry.”


“Mega chemistry, huh?”


“Yeah.” She smiles; it’s goofy and a bit shy because, God, did she really just say that?


But Dean doesn’t seem to mind, because his lips turn up to and he shakes his head. “Dork.”


“Let’s go.”


Y/N goes to open the door, her hand hovering right above the knob when Dean cuts in.


“Can I hold your hand?” He asks.


The young girl then stills and her hand floats away from the door. She stares at him; his voice is calm and collected, like he’s asking her what’s the time or how she is.


“You…want to hold my hand?” Y/N’s uncertainty is evident.


Shrugging, he pulls a face, an expression that says no duh, why not.“Yeah.” He answers. “We are trying to portray that mega-chemistry, aren’t we?”


“We are.”


“Yeah…so.”


She feels him reach out, like it’s happening in slow motion, like she can’t do anything, and take her hand in his. Their skin grazes and fingers lace. His hand is far bigger than hers, rougher, too, but it’s a satisfying contrast as the butterflies in her chest are roused.


Dean’s smile is ribbing and smug and Y/N’s heart is in her as she feels her palms clam up. He opens the door and they step out into the hallway, the heat immediately smacking onto them. Sam is leaning against the wall, typing away at his phones, and he looks up when he notices their presence.


A smile twists at his lips. “There’s the happy couple.”


“Shut it.” Dean says, smirking as they begin to saunter down the strip of corridor.  Y/N is trying to mollify her feelings, rinsing them away, trying to rationalize why they’re even here in the first place. They shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be getting so worked up over something like this, but it’s hard to. The past few days, with this wedding situation overhead, have been nerve-wracking—could that be it? she wonders. Could those anxieties be the cause of her frazzled emotions?


But she doesn’t have time to ruminate. The elevator takes them to the ground floor and they shuffle out once the doors open, Sam and Dean talking about how weirdly excited they are about meeting Y/N’s family as they walk through the ballroom and then out into the garden. . Picnic benches are set up across the expanse of greenery and evergreen trees sprout from the ground all around. There are cobbled paths through and fairy lights (currently off) strung up between branches willows. She remembers this place from when her dad would bring her along on workshops and send her out here to play.


Y/N notices her mother first.


Her hair is an ashy blond, curled into a bob, and she’s wearing a white caftan and jeans. She’s smiling, laughing at the table cluttered with familiar faces. Only about two or three people are strangers to her.


Then, as if instinctively, she clutches Dean’s hand tighter in hers. He then casts a brief glance at her, one of caution, worry, almost, and Y/N meets his gaze.


“I’m nervous.” She admits, visibly gulping.


His eyes regard her curiously. “Why?”


If only she knew. But she doesn’t, so Y/N only shrugs and looks back ahead. When they’re a few feet away from the table, that’s when S/P/N notices them because, gleaming like the sun in a salmon colored dress, she rises from her seat and welcomes them with a smile.

“Y/N!”

 ~*~*~

Part 3

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Nightbringer

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Baekhyun

Genre: Smut / Pirate!AU

Prompt: “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Word Count: 1,745

Originally posted by baehkkyun

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Feel Real // The Color Of My World Part Four [A Stiles Stilinski Soulmate AU]

Prompt: Soulmate AU where for your entire life you’ve only ever seen black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate and color blooms before your very eyes. But, what happens when you find out that your soulmate just so happens to be the one person your current boyfriend hates the most in this world? (Part 4 of 9)

Series: Part One Part Two Part Three

Relationship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader / Stiles Stilinski x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Oral Sex (Female on Male), Cheating (Like They Have Sex and Theo Is Fucking There), Sexual Tension and Teasing, Unprotected Sex, Angst, and Swearing. 

Word Count: 7,224

Song: Never Be Alone by Shawn Mendes

With laughter unintentionally passing my lips, I climbed off of Stiles and sat back in the passenger seat. Looking over at him in just his boxers, he was glaring at the ceiling of the car with anger boiling inside of him. I’ve never seen him this furious before and, damn, does he look good.

“It’s not funny.” He defended, his jaw clenching.

“I know it’s not funny, baby.” I attempted to hold back my giggles, but failed miserably.

“Then, why are you laughing?” Stiles accused.

“I’m not laughing.” I tried, clasping my bra back on and pulling up my straps.

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Oh My My

Pairing: Avengers x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Still kinda lame, bad pickup lines (that I did not come up with), bad language, sexual innuendos, my writing

(A/N): My friend requested a second, more dirty, part. So, yeah…hope you´re happy. Kinda lamer than the first part, but whatever. And once again, if you see a pickup line/ dirty remark that belongs to you, please message me and I´ll gladly credit you. Enjoy.

Oh My

Summary: You thought you heard the last of me? Ha! Or: The Team attempts to cope with your You-ness.

Originally posted by models-in-motion-gifs

„Can you just…not…do that?“

Steve huffs impatiently, watching you turn and blink at him all too innocently.

“Do what, Captain? Admire the view?”

You gesture behind yourself, towards the small group of people that were currently being shoved into the back of a SHIELD van. Two young, handsome males and a beautiful, blonde female.

“They are terrorists, [Y/N]. Can you at least fake some professionalism?”

You shake your head with an amused smirk, your gaze lingering on him just long enough to see him reach out to massage his temple.

“What am I going to do with you?”

A laugh bubbles up at the back of throat and you turn, sending him a wink over your shoulder as you set into a casual stroll towards his motorcycle.

“My, Captain, I can think of a few things. Might need to stretch first though.”

His annoyed groan only serves to amuse you further, [E/C] meeting his cerulean blue ones just as he sweeps a hand over his slightly reddened face.

“I´m serious, [Y/N]. If you step out of line one more time-“

“You will give me a good spanking, got it, Captain.”

He buries his face in his hands with a shuddering sigh, the flush that spreads across his face delightfully bright.

And I can tell, today´s going to be a good day.


“How did you pull that off?”

Bruce´s disbelieving whisper drags a small chuckle out of you, your grip on his arm tightening insignificantly when he slowly leads you towards the emergency exit, flash-drive with the needed data safely stored in his jackets pocket.

“Like a wise person once said: If you can´t blow them away with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit.”

He snorts a laugh, opening the door for you once you´ve made sure that you could slip away undetected.

“You amaze me, [Y/N].”

“And we haven’t even slept together yet.”

You smile teasingly his way, easily slipping into the driver´s seat of your getaway car, while Bruce stands next to it for a few moments, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.


You´ve had a lot of brilliant ideas in your life- a whole lot, but this, you decide, might just have been one of your very best.

“Please tell me I´m hallucinating…”

Tony´s disbelieving whisper drags a chuckle out of you, [E/C] sparkling in amusement as you push away from the set of suits that both Pepper and you have taken great pleasure in painting bright neon pink.

“Well, I am dreamy, but please do contain yourself, darling.”

He takes a shaky inhale, his eye twitching to the rhythm of his pulse. Or as doctor Cho would have put it, unhealthily fast.

“Don´t worry, it´s not waterproof”

You grin at him, reaching out to plant your lips to his cheek in an attempt to soothe his rattled nerves, before you lean back with a playful smirk on your lips.

“What do you say we get out of here, darling. To blow of some steam. Emphasis on the blow.”

He chokes on thin air, his eyes widening, and you take a picture, laughing at it and his truly priceless expression for the rest of your day-off.


“It´s beautiful”

You turn upon hearing Bucky´s voice, training your eyes onto the item the soldier was currently referring to.

It turned out to be Wanda´s new scarf, a fabric of gorgeous scarlet color that complimented both her powers and leather jacket lovely.

“Suits you”

Clint pipes up from across the room, sending you a quick look that almost begs you to say something also. Preferably something incredibly dirty. And who are you to disappoint?

“Indeed, it does. Maybe if you´re feeling a little frisky you´ll let me use it on you in more existing ways.”

She blushes and buries her face in her scarf, her cheeks as delightfully red as the fabric itself, while you merely take a calm sip of your tea and tone out Clint´s barking laughter.


You never failed to be pleased by Bucky´s delight at the simplest and most basest of things, one of the main reasons why you took to treating the Super Soldier to lunches and dinners every now and again, introducing him to various restaurants, bars and cafés while you were at it too.

“That was mind-blowing”

You grin up at him from behind your burger

“Not usually the circumstances I hear that, but I´ll take it.”

You narrowly dodge a fry that he throws your way, laughing at the small blush that tinted his cheeks as his creative imagination paved a way for, what you are sure, were some incredibly dirty thoughts and pictures.

“I hate you…”


“Wanna watch a movie?”

You smirk at Sam from behind the book that you were reading, teasingly raising a delicate brow.

“Why, Wilson, a little ´Netflix and Chill´ is always welcome”

He raises his own brows in slightly flustered disbelief, turning to Pietro for help only to receive a nonchalant shrug in return.

“Welcome to our world…”

You throw a book at the speedster, watching bemusedly as he calmly dodges it by craning his head to the right.

“Glad I´m flexible, right?”

“Certainly, although I´d love to find out just how flexible you can be, love.”

You treat him to a coy smirk and flirtatious chuckle, ruffling up his hair on your way to the elevator when you take notice of the color that set upon his cheeks.

“You coming or what, Wilson?”

“Me? Oh I-“

“Oh, I´m sure he already came!”

You laugh at Tony´s good natured jab, teasingly beckoning the flustered Sam to join you in the elevator with a wiggle of your index finger.


Patience, to most people´s surprise, had always been one of your strong suits, combined with the fact that you, not very unlike Natasha, were impeccable at stealth, it made you into a force to be reckoned with.

A force that Clint, just like HYDRA, learned to fear. For wholly different reasons.

“Boo”

A girlish shriek rips from his lips and you muster a self-satisfied smirk in return, watching him jump away from you, with clear amusement in your eyes.

“I hate you!”

He grips his chest for emphasis, wheezing and far from amused by your sudden and quite frankly startling appearance.

“Now that, darling, is where I beg to differ. I hold firm to the belief that I´m like walking heroin, very habit forming-“

“And it never ends well”

You chuckle at him and nod, offering him the basket of fries you brought along to share with the Archer.

“Now that this is out of the way, I figured you´d be hungry, after a jump like that.”

Nevertheless the withering look he gives you at the mention of his reaction to your sudden appearance, he takes the basket.

“To think you could be scared of lil´ol´me…”

“I wasn’t scared…”

And after swallowing, he quickly adds

“You´re not scary”

You merely grin at him, the flirtatious twinkle in your eyes unmissable and bright

“Well, in this case, rest assured, darling. I still have some tricks up my sleeve that can make you tremble- perhaps not in fear, but-“

You snort a laugh at him as he chokes on his fries and leave him to his demise, still coughing and red-faced.


“You know”

You crack your knuckles one by one, allowing your gaze to stray from her self-satisfied smirk and onto the heap of whimpering and unconscious HYDRA Agents before you.

“Shattering their bones is one thing, but shattering their bones, stepping on their manly pride and then laughing in their faces…”

You turn to give her a look of mock disappointment

“That´s just cruel”

“So, arrest me”

A teasing, lopsided grin is what it takes for Natasha to realize her mistake. Her green eyes flitting to where your hand is already reaching for your own pair of handcuffs.

“With utmost pleasure

“Don’t you dare”


You found Maria to be a person of utmost grace and intelligence. Someone who, despite being confined to her office for the better part of forever, still had no trouble slipping into the role of an active Agent if need be.

It´s unlike you, and if somebody were to point it out, you would most certainly deny it, but you admired that about her.

So, it came as no surprise to you when your eyes lingered on her frame for a moment longer than they needed to be, watching profanities leave her lips in an enraging volume if only to convince the target that she was truly offended.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Natasha´s gaze on you, her own green eyes twinkling in amusement as she watched your lips curl upwards at Maria´s impeccable performance.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Her voice reaches you over the com

“I´d love to make that woman scream for real”

It takes you a moment to realize why Maria cracks for a split-second, a flush setting upon her cheeks.

“She left her com on”

Natasha informs you and not missing a beat, she adds a questioning

“You´ll never stop, will you?”

You merely shake your head, teasingly winking Maria´s way when she sends you a half-hearted glare over the target´s shoulder.

A good day indeed

Roommates

Genre: Fluff / Humor (??) / Romance / Very slight smut 

Word Count: 5,065

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Request: Can you do a fic of having Jungkook (my bias oh muh gosh) as your neighbor and you having to stay at his house while your parents are away??

“We’ll be gone for awhile and I think it would be best if you stayed with Jungkook while we’re gone! You guys are the same age, he’s only a couple months older. I think it would be really nice.”

Masterlist ♥︎

Request

A/n: This is really long omg w o w. I hope this is what you wanted ^-^. Thank you for the request ❗️😊♥️ I’ve actually always wanted to make a fic like this lol. jungkook feels are too real. I did sort of a new style of writing (?) kind of, idk, you guys can tell me if you like it. sorry about the ending lol. sorry not sorry for thAT SINFUL GIF.  

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A World of Color

Originally posted by thelongwindedblues

Request: “ This idea came from new-fanfic-order’s Marvel blog, but I think it would be really good! A soulmate fic where your soulmate is the only person you see in color, but since kylo’s clothes are monochrome, only he knows you’re meant for eachother.”

Summary: Soulmate AU: (Y/N), princess of Lysatra, has been cursed from a young age by the infamous Supreme Leader Snoke. In hopes to end the last of the Resistance’s allies he happily awaits the day for his curse to enter the last phase. With all things going according to plan Snoke sends his most trusted knight and apprentice, Kylo Ren to finish the job. Little do either of them know however, that things are going to take an unexpected turn.

A/N: I really seriously love this concept haha, I hope I did it justice. I also remember someone requesting something along the lines of a Sleeping Beauty AU (I unfortunately cleared it cause my requests are closed but it’s meshing into this one) and it seemed so perfect for this. Hope you all like it!


In the dim light of the seemingly grand but bare hall Kylo stood with all his attention focused before him. Despite Starkiller’s destruction, Snoke assured he still had a space in which he could speak to his apprentice. Though rather than a hologram, Kylo was looking directly into the sunken eyes of the humanoid he called master. 

Snoke shifted his boney hand slightly, observing it for a moment before he spoke.

“Do you know why I have called you here today?”

Opting not to nod Kylo simply stared at his master, “Yes.”

Snoke smirked as he turned to face Kylo. Though Kylo was accustomed to his masters appearance, the sight would send chills down anyone else’s spine. 

“As I knew you would. …Today is the day in which we get one step closer to destroying the Jedi, as well as the Resistance.”

Snoke straightened himself in his seat as a more mischevious but subtle smirk settled onto his face.

“Lysatra has long been a sympathizer for the Resistance and a known home to force users and former padawans alike.”

Instantly Kylo stopped the horrid memories from playing in his mind once again. It was as if his subconcious was programmed to replay the fateful evening every time the word was uttered. What was done was done and he was onto a far greater path. Wasn’t he?

“Their beloved princess is not only intelligent, but a rare force user. A balance within herself. Mastering both the light and dark without claiming either as a refuge. Word has already surfaced that they wish to send her to Skywalker, further train her in her abilities. With her Skywalker would double his odds of defeating us. That is where you come in, my wise apprentice.”

Kylo straightened his shoulders, as if in an interview for the first time.

“As you know, in my own ability, I placed a curse of the force upon her through a tainted kyber crystal. Now after years of waiting, she has finally fallen into a deep, unshakeable sleep. That, however, is not good enough. We need to be sure Skywalker gains no more assets whatsoever. She must be rid of.”

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Iron Crown (IV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jinyoung

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Genre: Vampire!AU, Royal!AU

Word Count: 9,261

Summary: As the Crown Princess of Vitus, your land has always been peaceful. When your power-hungry Uncle decides to stop paying the tithe though, things take a turn for the worse. The vampires who reside in the mountains are not happy and in retaliation - they set their sights on you.

Originally posted by igotbulletproof

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this place is home to us

Genre: smut. don’t be mad.

Pairing: phan. dan and phil. phil and dan. who else?

AU: Punk x Punk because I don’t see this enough

Warning: Swearing, sex, the usual. Top!phil bottom!dan

Author’s Note: send me asks/requests!!! I will write them!!!!! I need prompts!!!! also keep this out of the main dnp tags pls ty

Phil dangled his feet off the platform of the train, swinging them with the wind that travelled through the cars. He picked and bit at the skin around his nails. The bite of the February air stung his nose, making his already pale skin turn red. He could hear the train tilting, with the metals shifting against each other. Phil had nothing to worry about, though. These trains, this station, hadn’t been in service since 1978. These trains weren’t going anywhere.

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3

Tony rubbed his forehead and tried to continue working on Peter’s suit. Some incident with electrical wires rendered a few of the features useless. When he heard about the predicament, Tony extended his kindness and offered to fix it with him. What he didn’t know was how much Peter was going to chat while they worked. 

After mentioning gym class, his Chemistry homework, and favorite restaurant all in the span of two minutes, Tony noticed that the one sided conversation’s topic had surrounded you, one of Peter’s friends. You were always there, the main character. The older man looked at the teenager in amusement, which Peter noticed. “What?“ 

Shaking his head, Tony went back to the suit. “Nothing.“ 

"No, seriously. What?” He insisted. 

“Seriously nothing,” he replied, smirking. Without taking his eyes off the wires, Tony added teasingly. “Keep on talking about your girlfriend." 

Not expecting that, Peter almost tripped over nothing and held onto the work table in an attempt to look casual. "Gir-girlfriend? I don’t hav- I mean, Y/N’s not my-” He paused, trying to look more laid back. “Well, she’s my friend and girl, but not…that.” Peter’s face was getting redder with every word that he said.

Holding up the Spiderman suit to Peter, Tony mentioned, “Huh. You might not even have to wear a mask with this if you keep on blushing about your friend that is a girl, but not your girlfriend.” Little did Tony know that he had just started a conversation that was even more tiresome than the first. 

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like her as my girlfriend,” Peter continued his tangent, “She’s really smart and funny. Also pretty. Really pretty.” For a second, he was in his own daze. “What was I saying? Oh, yeah!” Peter snapped back into reality. “It doesn’t even matter. It’s not like she would ever date me." 

"Sure, she would,” Tony assumed, “It sounded like you two are already pretty close.”

“Yeah, we’re good friends,” he replied, “But that’s completely different from dating. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, evidently embarrassed. 

Tony paused his tinkering for a second to think. It might be good for Peter to have a girlfriend to give him something outside of Spiderman. “Well, you just have to impress her. Transition the friendly feelings to romantic feelings with some dates.” Peter looked confused. Was it that simple? “Okay, kid. Where would you take Y/N on a first date?" 

He smiled and answered immediately, "Her favorite pizza shop in Queens.” Noticing Tony’s bored expression, Peter felt self conscious. He had been sure that that would be perfect, a casual place that both of you were familiar with. “What do you think?" 

Shuffling through his projected agenda that appeared before his eyes, Tony stated, "Seems very normal. She could do that any day.” He found what he was looking for among the piles of invites and smiled triumphantly. “But could Y/N see an acrobatic show any time she wanted?” Peter barely had time to shake his head before Tony continued, “Perfect. I’ll get you a cool ride and a driver for Friday night. Make sure you two wear something nice and-” He picked up the newly repaired suit- “Stay away from electrical wires."  

When Ned heard from Peter about what happened, he was in awe. "Seriously? Tony Stark is giving you free things now?" 

"Yeah, to help me ask out Y/N,” Peter clarified, “He was given the tickets and couldn’t go so…” Shrugging his backpack off, his mind started to wander how he might explain how he casually happened upon these the tickets to you. 

“So, let me get this straight,” you said slowly, digesting all the information your best friend quickly told you, “Tony Stark held a raffle among his interns for various events he isn’t going to and you got two tickets to an acrobatic show?"  

Peter smiled excitedly. "It’s this famous show that’s in New York now.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked down at his scruffy shoes. “The extra ticket is yours, if you want it.” His eyes rose to meet yours, anxious to hear your response. 

“Are you sure you want to take me?” you asked casually, “It seems like an opportune time to ask out someone. She would be pretty impressed probably.”

“I could, but I’d rather go with you, if you can.” Peter bit the inside of his cheek, which had become a small nervous habit of his. 

Grinning excitedly, you nodded. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m definitely sure,” he reassured quickly before adding, “It’s Friday, Mr. Stark’s giving us a ride, and I have been told to wear something nice.” Before you could change your mind, he stuttered something about seeing you in class and walked away, leaving you behind, yet pleasantly confused.

As the week progressed, Peter was in a state of impatience combined with joy. He was antsy in class, even more so than before. Even though he rolled his eyes at Ned’s teasing, the stupid smile never left Peter’s face. Nothing could ruin anything now that he kinda sorta had a date with you.

Finally, Friday evening was upon Peter who was rushing around his room, trying to look presentable. Aunt May, who had been informed about what was happening, commented lightly, fixing his collar and pushing his hair out of his face. When Tony’s driver texted him that he was there, Peter practically fell down the stairs as he tripped over his own feet to get to the car.

If he was amazed by the car, it was nothing compared to the feeling he felt when he saw you. Your knee length dress was spectacular, yet there was the undeniable factor of you that made Peter absolutely speechless. Tell her she looks beautiful Aunt May told him. "You look…incredibly stunning.” Close enough.

To his personal delight, you blushed slightly at the compliment, before composing yourself and responding, “Why, thank you. You look handsome tonight, Peter.” He opened the door for you smoothly, as if he hadn’t practiced it all week, and went in the car after you had settled.

The show was astounding, but Peter loved watching you more than he liked watching the acrobats on stage. Well, he found himself watching the Avengers tribute, where Spiderman was a part of. Your amazement at the trained professionals only made him more entranced.

About halfway through the show, Peter noticed your hand resting on the armrest that separated the two of you. Delicately, he placed his hand on top of yours, as if he was scared you would flinch away. To his delight, you didn’t pull away and, although Peter wasn’t entirely sure due to the dimmed lights and multiple colors on the stage, your cheeks might have turned that soft shade of pink from earlier in the night.

Ever since that night, Tony made sure that Peter had enough of impressive dates to present to you. He hasn’t kissed you yet, but on the date, he could pretend that he was a confident billionaire like Tony Stark himself and take your hand occasionally. Sure, getting dressed formally was a hassle, but to be with you? Peter would do anything.

The third date was actually an Avengers’ event that Peter was invited to, but he still told you that Tony Stark invited him just because of the internship, since you weren’t aware of his double life. That night started off well, as all the previous dates had, and you looked enchanting in your long dress, but as the night went on, Peter lost you and couldn’t find you.

It had taken half an hour and hacking into Tony Stark’s security cameras to find you on the roof, by yourself. He went up there, hoping to appear casual. "Hey. I couldn’t find you,” Peter said softly as he stood next to you on the ledge. You only smiled in response, making him insecure about himself. “Are you not having a good time?”

“No, I am,” you reassured quickly, “It’s just…” You took a quick breath. “It’s stupid.”

Peter placed his hand on top of yours on the railing and looked into your eyes. “I’m sure it’s not.” A few seconds of silence went by before he sighed, “I understand if you don’t want to come with me to these. You don’t have to fee obligated or anything.”

“No, no, no.” You cracked a small smile. “Peter, this is going to be your life soon at the rate you’re going at. I shouldn’t feel ungrateful, but I would just be fine with staying in Queens-” your smile morphed into a bigger one, “-grabbing a pizza. I just know you’d want someone by your side who has your ambition right now. I’m just a regular high school student.” You looked at the view from the tower and Peter’s heart ached at the sight.

“Wait, seriously?” He asked incredulously, “I’d love to grab a pizza at that little pizza shop you like.” Peter’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I was just trying to impress you with all these outings.” If it was possible, his face turned redder. “And you are anything but regular. You’re extraordinary. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

You looked at him with shock, but he recognized the happiness in your eyes. Slowly, Peter took a step closer and placed his hand on your cheek delicately. Without so much as an inch between the two of you, he whispered, “Is this actually happening?”

“Don’t think so much.” With that, you leaned in and placed your lips on his. His eyes widened before closing them quickly and returning the kiss. Peter placed his other hand on the small of your back and he felt your hands go up to his neck. Your fingers played with a little of his hair, making his face feeling redder than he knew it was, but Peter didn’t care because all he cared about was you, you, you.

You pulled away from the kiss and Peter leaned in a bit, pouting at the end of perhaps the best kiss in his whole lifetime. Laughing a bit at his silly face, you laced your hand with his and mentioned, “So you said something about my favorite pizza shop?”

Queen (ThunderIron Quick Fic)

Filling a prompt from @ajanamyth​ — I hope this is what you wanted babe.

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“Hey honey.” Tony ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. “Aren’t you looking pretty? Clean up nice, don’t you?” His words were nearly slurring, but not because he was drunk.

No, Tony just hadn’t slept in pushing thirty six– oh scratch that– forty two hours.

So he was way past exhausted and edging quickly into so -tired -I’m- just- wide- awake- and- hallucinating-things territory.

Which was a very plausible excuse for the fact that he was not only chatting up, but almost coming on to Mjolnir as she sat on the table where Thor had left her earlier. Of course Tony knew he was talking to Mjolnir, but hey, if he could talk to his bots like they understood him, he was damn sure gonna talk to a hammer that had some sort of life energy or force of it’s own. Sorry, of her own.

So sure. Tony was chatting up the hammer.

“You wanna go to bed?” Tony asked and then giggled to himself. “No not with me. I better take you back to Thor, he will probably get all sorts of jealous if you end up in my room. Is that weird? Do you like.. Do you have anything going on in there?” Tony blinked at the hammer for a minute.

“Alright. I need to sleep. Standing here waiting for a hammer to talk back to me. Alright. Upsie-Daisy let’s get going.”

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