idiot legs

i love this part enough that i wasn’t satisfied with the slow panning up of the ‘camera’ - i decided to copy and paste the images together to show the whole thing at once. thought i’d post it here in case others felt the same way (and also so i can find it again)

anonymous asked:

snowbaz soulmates au where the ink you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin and vice versa

Okay, I really let my imagination run away with my words here. :D I really love this trope. But what if we took this a step further? What if, instead of soul mates, this was actually a spell that could be used to communicate with someone from far away?

Sometime around seventh year, this spell is taught in Magickal Words. And you get forced with a partner to learn it. Baz and Simon get partnered up, of course. And Simon botches the spell and makes it relatively permanent.


At first, neither of them really do anything about it. Simon might occasionally draw a stupid face or something on his arm just to piss off Baz. But Baz makes certain to no longer make notes to himself on his skin. It’s like this for almost a month. Until Simon goes on a mission for the Mage, and he receives dozens of cuts all over his arm and a few across his chest. It isn’t until he’s checking his cuts on his way back that he notices something written on his wrist.

Snow. Are you hurt?

Simon is really confused by this at first. Because why on earth would Baz be writing to him when he never has before? He immediately searches for a pen.

I’m fine, he writes back. Why? His handwriting is atrocious compared to Baz’s.

Suddenly, all these small arrows start appearing on Simon’s skin, each one pointing to his cuts. He looks under his shirt at his chest; there are some there, too.

I’m covered in scars, appears underneath his writing.

Fuck. It suddenly makes sense. He must have really fucked up the spell, and now Baz is getting all these marks on his skin where Simon’s cuts are.

I was cut, Simon writes. Do they hurt you?

Not much, Baz writes back. Be careful next time.

Simon doesn’t write back. He doesn’t know what to say. They don’t speak about it at all when he gets back. Nothing happens again until a few weeks later, over Christmas break.

Simon is sitting on his bed at Watford, trying to enjoy the quiet, when a large scar appears along the side of his neck and over his collarbone. He doesn’t notice it immediately, but begins to feel a burning sensation there. It isn’t until he goes into the bathroom to shower that he sees it. It terrifies him to see such a scar that large. He immediately runs out of the bathroom and grabs a pen.

Baz, what happened?    

Dueling. The reply is almost instant.

With who?

My father.

Did you lose?

Yes.

This almost makes Simon shiver. Baz so easily admitting defeat. In the form of one beautifully written word on his skin.

Simon walks back to the bathroom and stares at the scar in the mirror. It still burns. Burns like magick. Baz must have been hit pretty hard to have a scar left like this. He traces it up and down, wondering what it must look like against Baz’s grey skin.

Does it hurt? Came another set of words on the back of his hand.

It burns, Simon writes. Are you in pain?

I can handle it, forms along his right hand. Simon snorts at this. Of course Baz would be ambidextrous. Simon searches along his arm for a place to write but it’s all full of words. He then looks down at his legs. He’s wearing boxers, so he can write there. He’s not sure if Baz will see it immediately, but he decides to write there anyway.

I’m not left-handed, Baz, he writes. And then because of the extra space on his leg, he adds, I can’t write on my right arm.

So you decide to write on your leg instead? Idiotic, Snow. The reply appears on Simon’s leg, right under his own words. And it was almost instant again. Simon tries not to wonder if Baz is actually wearing pants at this moment.

You wrote on your own leg too, Simon writes.

To prove a point that it’s idiotic.

How is it idiotic if you’re doing it too?

There isn’t an instant reply this time, and Simon realizes they’ve written all the way from his knee cap to the top of his thigh. Something they could only do if they’re both not wearing pants. Simon really tries not to think about it.


(I don’t know what this was, I’m sorry. But maybe I’ll turn it into a real fic one day :D)

A unicorn, behind the scenes on The Handmaids Tale [x]

Crushcrushcrush

Spencer x Reader.

“Ouch, ouch OUCH.“

"Stop being a baby!” you said to your best friend and colleague. 

“But it hurts,” Spencer complained. 

“Well of course it hurts you idiot, you’ve broken your leg." 

"Can you just drive more carefully please?" 

You were in your car driving back from the hospital where you’d spent the last four hours. Spencer was laid out across your back seat, his leg in plaster. You’d been with him when he’d fallen out of the tree, an image you still couldn’t get out of your head. 

Spencer Reid. In a tree. You couldn’t wait to tell the others. You’d taken pictures. 

"This wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me. I told you those branches couldn’t take your weight.” You couldn’t help but gloat. 

“Yes well, I was trying to be nice. That little girl wouldn’t stop crying.”

The two of you had met up for coffee, having returned from your most recent case the evening before. It was a pleasant day so you’d decided to take a walk through the local park. 

You’d come across a young mother trying to calm her crying child, her kite stuck in a tree. 

Spencer, being the gentleman he was, had offered to climb up and get it. You laughed telling him there’s no way those branches could take his weight but he’d ignored you. 

Less than 30 seconds into his climb, you heard a cracking and a loud girlish squeal as he came crashing to the ground, landing on his leg at an awkward angle. 

You couldn’t not laugh at him even though he was clearly hurt. The little girl’s mom had been mortified, especially when you told her what you both did for a living. “It’s fine,” you’d assured her. “He got shot in the leg last year, he’s used to being injured.”

“Can you stop laughing at me and call an ambulance please?” Spencer had piped up from the ground. 

“Let me just take a picture so I can show the team.” You pulled out your cell. “Smile.”

He’d glared at you. “ Ambulance. Now Y/N.”

“Fine, fine. No need to get so tetchy.”

Four hours and multiple photos later, you were on your way home, you having followed the ambulance in your car. You were taking Spencer back to your apartment as yours had an elevator and his didn’t, stopping by at his on the way picking up the list of items he’d given you. 

You drove over another pothole hearing him whine again. “I beg of you, please just drive carefully." 

You signaled, pulling to the side of the road "Get outta the car Reid.” You spun around in your seat. 

“Wait… No! I’m injured.”

“Criticise my driving again, and you can walk home. And I won’t let you stay at my apartment meaning you’ll have to call Morgan and tell him how you tried and failed to fly today.”

He pouted at you. “I’m sorry, you’re not a bad driver. It’s just the pot holes nudge my leg and it freaking hurts. It’s not so bad until you go over one.”

He’d refused painkillers at the hospital, you understanding why, and suddenly you felt bad for taking the piss out of him. 

“I’ll try and avoid them okay. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

You made it home with a few mores groans from him and you helped him into your building making it to your apartment with only a few stumbles. 

“Stay here, I’ll make up the couch now so we don’t have to do it later.”

“Aww you’re giving up your bed for me Y/N?”

“Fuck no…. I don’t give up my bed for no-one. You’re having the couch.”

“But I’m injured… And your pull out isn’t very comfortable.” He stayed on it before during your many movie marathons when he couldn’t be bothered to drive home. 

“I’m not giving up my bed Spence. You’re my best friend and I love you to bits but just no. Not happening.”

“But I gave you mine when you had strep throat and demanded I take you home and look after you.”

“And that, is because you are a much nicer person than I am.”

He tried to give you his puppy dog face which he knew almost always made you break. You shook your head at him. This was one thing you weren’t budging on. 

You made up the couch for him and put his bags on the chair. Deciding you were both starving you ordered pizza, watching an old episode of the Twilight Zone when it arrived. 

When you finished up, you tidied your mess away feeling Spencer watching you. He went to speak, stopping before any words actually left his mouth. 

“S'up?” You turned to your friend. 

He screwed up his mouth, his hands nervously playing with his tee shirt. 

“I need a shower.”

He did….When he’d fell he’d landed in some mud and although you’d managed to wipe most of it off whilst you were in the hospital waiting room some of it had matted into his hair, making it even messier than usual. 

“And?”

“I…..um, I’m not gonna be able to pull my jeans off. And I probably won’t be able stand for long in your shower by myself.”

“Can you wait until tomorrow and I can get Morgan to come and help?”

He shook his head. “You know how funny I am about showering everyday. I won’t be able to relax if I don’t. Please?”

Right… Okay. 

“We’ll have to cut your jeans off.” The doctor had already hacked them off at the knee in order to plaster him up so they were ruined anyway. “And… We’ll work the other stuff out as we go. Your boxers are staying on by the way.”

“Well duh….”

You went into your kitchen pulling out a roll of black bin liners, duct tape and your kitchen scissors, grabbing some towels from the basket of clean laundry you’d yet to put away. 

“Move it hop along.” You motioned towards your bathroom. 

“It kinda looks like you’re getting ready to murder me or something Y/N.” He pointed to the bags and scissors. 

“Oh Spencer… I’d at least wait until you were asleep. Now come on.”

He pulled himself up using his crutch as leverage and hobbling into the bathroom behind you. 

Flipping the lid of your toilet seat down, you instruct him, “Sit.”

You took his crutch off him propping it up against a wall. Twirling the scissors around your fingers you smiled menacingly at him. “Do you trust me?" 

"I don’t really have much choice.” He stuck his leg out. “Just…. Don’t cut through my boxers okay.”

Raising your eyebrows at him you joked, “Spencer, if I wanted to see your dick I would have seen it by now. Trust me on that." 

He flushed slightly as you reached for the bottom of his jeans, starting to cut up the side of his leg pulling the fabric apart as you did so you could easily see when you reached his underwear. 

"Pink boxers Spencer? Really?”

He shrugged at you. You continued cutting reaching the top. “Lift your butt off the seat slightly.”

He did and you quickly yanked the jeans from under him so they settled around his thighs. He rested back down. You removed his other Converse and sock, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom and pulling the jeans down and off his other leg. 

“Act one complete. Now onto Act two.” You started humming the Green Hill Zone music from Sonic the Hedgehog as you pulled a black bag from the roll, opening it up and lifting his leg inside it carefully. 

“I never knew you were a Sonic fan Y/N.”

“Up down left right A B C start, you know it baby.” You winked at him. “Now hold the bag around the top of your cast please.”

He gripped the plastic and you reached for the duct tape, taping the plastic flush to his leg and laughing at the finished look. 

“You’re probably gonna lose a few leg hairs getting that off.”

“Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Call yourself a genius Dr Reid….. ”

You stood up from your spot on the floor, leaning over and flicking the shower on. 

When you’d turned around, Spencer had pulled his tee shirt off. 

Woah….. 

You’d seen him shirtless before when you’d hurriedly changed in front of each other when out on cases. In fact you’d seen all of the team in various states of undress, but you’d not seen him with his top off in about four months. 

He’d changed. Not massively, but his tummy had more definition and tone to it and you could make out the start of a V nearing his hips. His shoulders and arms had more muscle. You’d always thought he’d had nice arms but now they definitely looked like they could do a lot more damage. 

“Trying to impress someone Spencer?” you teased. His cheeks flushed. “OMG, I was joking but you actually are. Who? As your best friend I demand you tell me.”

“It…. It’s n-noone.”  He hardly ever stuttered around you now, he had when you’d first met eighteen months ago but he’d stopped when you’d become closer friends. 

“It’s clearly someone… Tell me!”

“I can’t.”

“Pffft. Lies. All lies. Well you’re looking very sexy Dr Reid, even with the bag wrapped round your leg.”

You actually meant this too. You’d always thought Spencer was attractive with his messy hair and deep brown eyes but you’d become such good friends that you’d pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You teased him all the time and faux flirted, loving watching him get flustered trying to come back with a retort. He rarely managed it, him being fairly awkward around girls. 

“Although Spencer?”

“Hmmmmm.”

“Whoever she is, if she doesn’t like you for you then she’s not worth it. Don’t change yourself just to impress someone else. You’re perfect just as you are.”

He blushed the deepest red you’d seen on him in a long time, muttering out a thanks. 

“Now, let’s get you wet sugar!” you drawled earning a chuckle from him, his awkwardness at your compliment fading. 

He inched into your walk in shower using one hand to steady himself against the tiles, while he tried to get under the spray and not get his leg wet at the same time. Although the cast was covered, you still had to be careful.

It was funny to watch and every few moments he’d wobble, letting out a little screech and you’d reach out your arm to steady him. 

Seeing you laughing he flicked his arm through the spray, water droplets hitting you.

“Hey!”

“Stop laughing then and help me wash my hair. I can’t do it and steady myself at the same time.”

“How exactly am I meant to wash your hair for you? You’re a good seven inches taller than me Reid.”

His brow furrowed thinking, and suddenly you had a brainwave. One that would make this all so much easier. 

“Be right back.” You ran into your kitchen spying one of your bar stools and taking it back into the bathroom with. You reckoned it would just about fit. Motioning him to move out the way you placed the chair in the shower with him. 

“Ta daaaa!! Now sit.”

Pulling off your hoody and your own jeans you stepped into the shower behind him leaving your tee shirt and underwear on. You unhooked the shower head from its holster on the wall, handing it to him hold. 

You grabbed your shampoo from the rack, squirting some onto his messy hair. “Head back Spencer.”

He did as instructed, holding the spray of the shower away from you both and as you ran your fingers through his locks, massaging the shampoo into a lather. 

“I swear you have nicer hair than me Spence. It’s really not fair." 

He laughed and you took the shower head off him, rinsing it through and repeating the same steps with the conditioner.  

His eyes were closed and you swore you heard a light moan coming from him as you massaged his scalp lightly. 

"Done.”

Handing him your body wash and a spare sponge you held the shower head above him, the water sluicing down his back as he washed himself. “Y/N…. Close your eyes please.”

“I’m not looking, feel free to give yourself a good ole scrub down there. Just remember; once is fine, twice is okay, but three times…. And I’m leaving the shower.”

He laughed announcing a few moments later that he was done. You shut off the water, helping him up and moving the chair out. 

“Think you can hobble back and get dressed yourself whilst I have a quick wash?”

He nodded wrapping a towel around his middle, grabbing his crutch and heading out of the room. 

You stripped, quickly shaving your legs and washing your own hair. When you’d finished you dried off, dressing in the same pajamas you’d left in there this morning. 

Spencer was laid out on your bed propped up with your pillows against your headboard. He’d managed to dress himself in a pair of loose pajama pants and a tee shirt, you noticing the wet towel and his pink boxers lying on top of your wash basket. The black bag had gone as well. 

“He hey hey, I said you weren’t having my bed.”

He grinned. “I’m not, just let’s watch TV in here for a bit. It’s more comfy.”

You relented, he was right after all. You chucked him the TV clicker, climbing on to the bed next to him. 

“Thank you by the way.”

“Huh? For?" 

"For um… Letting me stay here and helping me in the shower and stuff. I know it was a bit weird.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re my bestie and you’re hurt. I may take the piss but I genuinely don’t like you being in pain…. Except when it’s caused by me.” You reached out and pinched his arm.  “Oh and Spence, I don’t really find anything weird with you. I feel comfortable when I’m with you. Kinda…. At home?” The last part came out like a question, more because you weren’t sure how else to explain yourself. 

He glanced at you. “Me too Y/N.” He got what you meant. 

He flicked through the channels, settling on some teen movie that had not long started. 

Fifteen minutes in and you were exasperated with the storyline already. 

“For fucks sake, her best friend is clearly the better option and he’s obviously head over heels for her. I can’t stand these types of movies.”

“Why not?” Spencer shot you a sideways look. 

“Just the whole dynamic. If you have feelings for your best friend, then freaking tell them. Or show them somehow.”

“Like how? Maybe he’s shy. What if he’s scared?” Reid’s voice sounded weird. Slightly strangled somehow. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “There’s ways of telling someone without actually saying it. Take her hand whilst you’re out walking or something. If she pulls away, she’s not into you like that and you can just pretend it never happened. No harm done, no awkward conversation.”

He went quiet and you resumed watching the movie. 

Twenty minutes later, you felt his arm twitch on the bed. You turned to look at him, his eyes intently focused on the screen. 

Another few minutes later, the same thing. His hand actually leaving its spot on the bed this time before putting it back down again. 

A full ten minutes later you heard him inhale a deep breath before moving his hand and wrapping it around yours. 

You jumped but didn’t pull away, just staring at your hands for a moment, thoughts running through your head, replaying the conversation you’d not long had. 

Oh… OH. 

This was new.

But not horrible. Definitely not horrible. In fact….. 

You liked it. Like really liked it. 

Spencer went to pull his hand away, obviously scared by your lack of response. 

“No….. Leave it Spence." 

You turned your hand face up so you could interlace your fingers with his, enjoying the warmth and strangely fuzzy feeling it gave you inside your tummy. 

He liked you? Like that?

He liked you. 

And given the butterflies you could feel dive bombing in your stomach, you liked him back.

Well, he was hot. And he knew almost everything about you. 

And you did spend almost all your spare time with him. 

And he was funny, and caring and kind. He was your favourite person in the world. 

You liked him. Why had you never realised?

Huh. 

This was completely unexpected. 

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, raising your eyes to his. His beautiful eyes, looking so nervous and unsure. 

You smiled at him, slightly unsure yourself. 

He returned your grin, releasing the breath he’d been holding and squeezing back. 

Okay. You could work with this. 

You wriggled closer to him, lifting his arm up and placing it around your shoulder before resting your head against his shoulder. You heard a sigh that you could only describe as contentment coming from him. 

Yes, you could definitely work with this. 

And that’s how you fell asleep. 

"We both know you don't mean that."

It was Friday night after a home game, so Nicky, Kevin, Aaron, Andrew and Neil were at Edens. Nicky threw back his fifth “celebratory” shot in the last three minutes. The Foxes had won of course, 5-1.
After another few shots, Aaron and Nicky disappeared to the dance floor and Kevin downed another packet of dust. Andrew and Neil sat at the table, Andrew drinking whatever concoction Roland had made him and Neil nursing his coke.
For once, Neil lost track of time. He didn’t count the minutes and didn’t count the songs or the shots or the drinks Kevin was inhaling. He barely kept track of how much coke he was drinking himself. He relaxed. He was safe. They all were.
He was…. happy.
A while later, Andrew abruptly stood up from his chair.
Neil looked over at him. “What-”
“Stay.” Andrew didn’t say anything else as he turned away and made his way through the crowd, disappearing in seconds.
Neil turned to Kevin but didn’t bother to ask the question- the dark haired man was slouched and half passed out already.
Cursing, Neil looked around again. Andrew had told him to stay, so by all rights he should do just that. But Andrew had looked stressed, alarmed… frightened. Neil ran his fingers through his hair, cussing himself out for relaxing to the point he didn’t notice Andrew’s state. Normally he would’ve seen this coming.
So he did the only thing he could think of; he counted and he scanned.
30 seconds.
He scanned every face he could see directly in front of him.
60 seconds.
He turned and scanned the faces across the room near the booths.
120 seconds.
He turned again and scanned the faces behind him.
180 seconds.
He turned again and scanned the faces near the bar.
240 seconds.
He kneeled up on his seat and tried to glimpse the people coming up and down from the dance floor.
300 seconds.
Absolutely no sign of the blonde.
Neil tried calling him but it went to voicemail. He texted but it stayed unread for another 100 seconds.
By now Neil was panicking. This wasn’t like Andrew.
With a final look around, Neil got off his seat and made his way to the bar, turning and scanning faces the whole way.
He waved down Roland who sauntered over.
“How many this-”
“Where’s Andrew?”
The question clearly took the man by surprise as he blinked and rocked back on his heels.
“What?”
“Andrew got up and disappeared a few minutes ago,” Neil said. Six minutes, his brain silently added. “He’s not answering.” Neil knew Roland and Andrew used to make out so of course Andrew trusted the man. Neil just hoped he knew Andrew well enough to know where he would go off to like this.
Roland was silent for a few seconds before he spoke carefully.
“Did he say anything?”
“He told me to stay in my seat,” Neil said, trying to ignore the guilt at the fact he clearly wasn’t doing that very well.
Roland seemed to think that too but didn’t say it. Instead he looked around.
“Did he say anything in Andrew language?”
Neil blinked. Maybe Roland did know Andrew well after all.
“He looked stressed. I think he might have had a flashback,” Neil said hesitantly. Roland’s face dropped. “He looked scared.”
Roland chewed his lip, looked around the room again.
“Two options,” he said quickly. “Either the hallway to the back exit or the storage room. Come on.”
With that he hurried around the bar, waving at one of the other barstaff before he arrived at Neil’s side.
Neil followed the tall man through the crowd until they got to a locked door. Roland keyed in a code and pushed the door open.
“Minyard, you in here?” he called out. Neil couldn’t help but note the gentle undertones of his voice. After a few seconds he reached in and flicked the light on. He pushed the door open more and stepped in enough to look behind it, before flicking the light off and letting the door shut.
“This way,” was all he said as he lead Neil through the club to another door, keyed in another code and pushed the door open enough to step in and turn to look around. He sighed and stepped back, holding the door open for Neil.
Suddenly nervous of the state Andrew could be in, Neil gingerly walked forward and into the hallway. Roland shut the door behind him and Neil squinted in the dull orange lighting. A few yards down the hallway, Andrew sat on the floor with his back against the cement wall, and had drawn his knees up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, his head bowed.
Neil chewed his lip before moving down the hall, and sat a foot away from Andrew. He didn’t say anything and didn’t look at the man beside him, instead gazing forward ar the cement wall across from them.
“I told you to stay.”
It wasn’t a question but Neil answered anyway.
“You did.”
Silence. “You also gave me a key,” Neil continued. “You gave me trust. You gave me honesty. You gave me another chance. You gave me hope. You gave me a life.” Now he turned to look at Andrew only to find the blonde man already glaring at him. “You told me to stay.” Neil held the icy blue gaze. “So this is me doing that.”
Andrew’s glare intensified and he turned away.
“I really fucking hate you,” he said, but his utter stillness gave away how untrue that was now.
“We both know you don’t mean that.”
It wasn’t a question so Andrew didn’t answer.
The two sat in silence another few minutes before Neil asked the question circling around his head.
“What happened?”
Andrew was silent for a full two minutes before he replied.
“Where are we?”
“Edens.” Neil didn’t know where this new line was going.
Andrew glared again. “Neil.”
Neil tried to think of another response.
“Colombia.”
Andrew returned his glare to the poor cement wall. “I saw someone who looked like him.”
It took neil a few seconds but when he realised who Andrew meant he felt so stupid for not realising sooner.
“We could leave.” Neil didn’t look at Andrew by his side. “Drive to your house. Or we could go back to the dorm.”
Andrew was glaring at him again.
“And those other three idiots?”
“They have legs,” Neil said. “Andrew if you need out of here, we can leave right now.”
Andrew’s glare softened a little and Neil already knew the answer.
Andrew stood up and Neil followed him down the hallway to another door with a pushbar, and then out into the cool night air. They walked quickly to the car parked in the lot around the corner and as Neil caught the keys Andrew threw at him, he realised just how bad the flashbacks must have been for Andrew to not drive.
“Where are we going?” Neil asked as he started the engine and pulled out of the lot.
“Home.”
Neil turned the car and drove to Andrew’s - Nicky’s- house, parking the car out front.
They sat in silence before Andrew stiffly got out the car and walked up the drive. Neil sent a quick text to Nicky -
‘Andrew & I left early, Kevin’s still at the table. U’ll hav 2 walk to the house.’
- before hurrying up the path after Andrew.
They walked into the house together and Andrew lead neil upstairs to his room. Neil hovered in the doorway.
“Do you still want me to stay in here? I can take the couch if you’d prefer.”
The blonde looked at him for a few seconds.
“Stay,” he said again.
On Andrew’s request Neil took his armbands and shirt off before getting into bed and answering ‘Yes’ to Andrew tracing his scars to ground himself in the present.
The two fell asleep and Neil did as Andrew had said. He stayed.

“If we Q, I’ll be happy.” -me
“IF YOU AINT FIRST YOURE LAST” -also me

SasuSaku Month 2017 - Day 8 (Heartbreak Hotel)

Title: Caught Red-Handed

READ ON FANFICTION.NET

Summary: Amidst their private travels, Sasuke and Sakura have a misunderstanding which forces him to admit something he wasn’t quite ready to admit yet… 

Genre: Humour / Romance

Words: 1979

A/N: Whoops, sorry for posting this a day late! I lost track of time. So I’ve been itching to write something silly and light and I felt this prompt would do it for me. I’ve also been meaning to play around in the present tense so here goes. Hope you enjoy. :) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the great Masashi Kishimoto.


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4

Pure sunshine and rainbows. 

Yvonne Strahovski attends the Premiere Of Hulu’s ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ at ArcLight Cinemas Cinerama Dome on April 25, 2017 in Hollywood, California.

SANJI PLSSSSSSs.

//On the side note… not sure why Anon asked me specifically but thank you for sending the question, I appreciate it! I will put my thoughts under the cut :)

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Shoulder to Shoulder, Side to Side | Peter Parker x Star-kid!Reader

Description: You always seem to be at Peter Parker’s side, whether it be on rooftops after a hard day or at a celebration. 

Notes: This is a mini-bit from the “It’s Hard to Balance” series, and the reader is Star-kid, Lumin, or Starling. Please read this series if you want to read this imagine without spoilers.

Words: 1784

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Stan Lee.

Ships: Avengers x Superpowered!Reader, Peter Parker x Superpowered!Reader

Masterlist


It was one of the quieter nights, you noted. New York was a rowdy place, but tonight, everything was as silent as the dark. As were you and Peter, your cape draped over his back as you stared shoulder-to-shoulder at the city below. His fingers lightly carded through your hair, your masks bunched in a ball atop two empty pizza boxes. He was close to sleep, and your hummed lullaby wasn’t helping to wake him up.

It had just been one of those days. With your identity revealed, you were bully-free, but the same couldn’t be said for Peter. Flash teased him, the football players threatened him, he had to do both his and his partners work in bio. But miserable days at school led to afternoons swinging around the city, guiding old ladies home, taking pictures with fans and playing chess with the homeless at Central Park. The night was saved for you, the adoring silence thickly layered around you both and protecting from you the city’s high winds.

You hummed another verse of the slow song, your head leaned into Peter’s chest. His suit was soft and warm, the light patterns catching on your fingers as you trailed your hand across his chest.”I’m sorry I haven’t been staying with you at the facility as much,” Peter murmured into your hair, caressing your waist. At that moment you were concentrated on fitting your hand against Peter’s, comparing the sizes of your hands with quirked interest,”It’s okay. I’m sure May worries about you.”

“Not more than you do sometimes.” Peter smiled, folding his hands over yours. You gratefully sighed out of your nose when he pressed a kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there for a moment, before you giggled and he parted from you. You turned, taking his face in your hands and blinking up at him like he was the whole world. He would go through a trillion more school days full of bullies, work, and anxiety if it meant you did this with him each night.

Peter gently held your arms, gliding his gloved hands to rest at your wrists as you pulled him in. This, like every other time you kissed, was slow and loving. Peter progressed it by pushing in further, your sweet taste a luxury in comparison to the rest of day. It was a freedom he’d die for. It was a freedom you’d die for.

“Mr. Parker,” You pressed your brow against his, pulling from his lips reluctantly,”You are sugar personified.” The way you looked at him, with your E/C eyes swirling with love and your touch combing along his scalp, Peter felt the air he breathed was thicker. Thick with emotion. Oh, if the rest of the team could see you now. Peter, they believed he was innocent and precious. They viewed you as an infinite powerhouse. Right now you were puddles, collected in one another’s hands.

“Good thing you have a sweet tooth.” Peter laughed, wrapping his other arm around your waist. Your cape slipped off his shoulder as he shifted, and you tenderly righted it while going on to explain your recent prank war with Pietro and Clint.


At first, Peter was a little jealous. The rest of the team could be themselves at the party, but if he wanted to show up and get credit, he’d have to be Spider-Man. Which, at first, wasn’t really a problem. But Starling, or Y/N L/N, was with Peter Parker— not Spider-Man. So either he can go to the victory party and get credit from everyone, or he could go as Peter Parker and dance with you all night. He made his decision when you winked at him that morning. Besides, most of the team had a date. Wanda and Vision, Pepper and Tony. So if you, the Avenger that had clearly publicized your relationship, didn’t have a date… that would be bad.

Pietro and Bucky gave him tips. Bucky was more helpful even if he’d forgotten most of what he was going to suggest, but most of his ideas were more gentlemanly compared to Pietro’s. They were all pretty traditional, but reminded Peter to have courage; kiss your hand, offer your jacket, pull out your chair.

The victory party was going to occur in Malibu. After defeating Galactus, most of the team needed a pick-me-up, and Pepper and Tony were already arguing about having a taco bar or not. Tony threw a party after every major mission and now was no exception.

The music had started but barely any guests had arrived. You were finishing up in the bathroom while he looked around your room. You had a room in every one of Tony’s homes, but this and the one in the New Avengers Facility were more crowded with your personality. There were polaroids of you and him plastered on a corkboard, posters of objects of your interests, a mini-fridge loaded with your favorite snacks. Peter found himself smiling at the photos, his heart beating anxiously in preparation for the night. He was never really one for parties.

You exited the bathroom, desperately trying to reach for the zipper on your dress. With a grunt of distress you gestured behind you,”Pete, can you…?” Peter stuttered at your appearance, the (color) dress glowing in time with your skin-tone, wrapping around your body like a second skin. It was tight… but in all the right places…

“Yeah, um, sure. Come here.” You turned around, guiding your hair over your shoulder as you waited for his assistance. Peter took the pull tab between his thumb and forefinger, gently dragging it up the chain and over your spine. You shivered beneath his touch, curving around to face him. Your arms came up to fold around his neck, one hand gently stroking his jaw as you took in his appearance,”You need to wear suits more, Spidey.” You whispered. Peter blushed, gently pressing you against his chest,”May-maybe, yeah.” With a flustered shrug, Peter pointed to his undone tie,”Can you…?”

You took the tie in your hands and began to tie it, folding and knotting as Peter admired your face. You glanced up at him, smiling sneakily at him as soon as the knot had been finished. You tugged on it to make sure it was perfect, pulling Peter’s face closer to yours with the pull, before you kissed him as fiercely as you could manage. Peter responded with unhidden enthusiasm, pawing at your back and waist as you messed up his hair.

“You know I love you, right?” Peter asked breathlessly, following your lead down the hall to the main areas of the event. You slowed your walk to match his steps, flashing him a dazzling smile,”I love you too, Peter.” You both smiled like idiots in that instant, legs jello and hearts a flutter, shoulder-to-shoulder as your shoes clipped down the hall. The music began to steadily grow in volume as you entered the heart of the party… which wasn’t beating as loud yet.

“Hey, Dad!” You called out across the way. He was leaning against the bar, and nearly did a spit take as the pair of you approached.”What?” You questioned in response to the face he made. Tony gestured to your outfit,” Sorry, I thought you were just some random kid that broke into our house and called me ‘dad’. Since when do you wear dresses, Star-nerd?”

“That’s Quill’s title,” You defended your name,”And I wore them since Peter started liking them.” You laughed. Tony’s eyes flashed to Peter’s, the teen’s hands suddenly clammy and face paler than the moon,”I just… I just thought that she’d, uh, be able to fight better in them, sir… wha-what with her legs being more… free?” Peter tried to save himself, but you shook them both off with a snigger,”I’m just joking. Where are the others?”

“Either here or on their way. Even T’Challa RSVP’d, so everyone should be coming over. We’ve got a few other guests too, I think Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Speedy Gonzalez are bringing some friends from your school.” As Tony relayed the news you and Peter exchanged a mutual glance of anxiety; that could either mean Michelle and Wanda chilling by the punch bowl skeptically, or the entire Midtown football team hiking after Pietro. Hopefully not both.

“Oh, well, where’s mom?” You wondered. With a start, you suddenly flushed and rushed to correct yourself,”PEPPER! I said Pepper, good ol’ Pep. Not mom. I didn’t say mom. Peter, did I say mom?” You turned to him, hoping for his assistance in your embarrassed state. You’d referred to Pepper as “mom” to him in private, as a code-name for when you were discussing your surprises for her and Tony’s wedding.

“What? No, you didn’t say mom! Yeah, no, she didn’t say mom. What are you talking about, Mr. Stark?” Peter flushed along with you for no apparent reason, squeezing your hand in hopes to convey his second-hand embarrassment for you. Tony shook his head, smiling at the thought of Pepper,”You two are made for each other. Now go get some punch or something.” He chuckled, watching you and Peter skitter off like startled animals.

“Hands above the waist, Parker!” He added in parting. Peter’s hand immediately shot up higher, fearfully retracting his touch. You put your hand over his and slid it back to your hip, shaking your head but internally thanking the distraction,”C’mon, Parker. Dance with me before the dance floor’s too crowded.”

Peter couldn’t say no, he didn’t want to say no, and thus collected you in his arms.”Ay, Lee!” You shouted to the DJ. The elderly man pulled out an earbud,”Yeah, Stark?” You gestured to your and Peter’s dancing position,”Can you play something slow for the gentleman and me?” You said teasingly in a “rich person” voice. Stan aimed a pair of finger-guns at you,”You got it, kids!” He punched a button the laptop in front of him, one of your favorite slow songs beginning to play steadily.

“Nice DJ.” Peter complimented quietly as you began to sway.”Good guy, but I don’t know much about him.” You responded. Peter sighed happily, whispering something about how he wasn’t one for parties. You agreed, resting your cheek against his shoulder. Giggling, you nuzzled into his neck, draping your arms over his shoulders. Guests were just beginning to arrive as the chorus started in.

Peter gently began to whisper the lyrics of the song in your ear, his lips grazing your skin with every word. Breathing in his scent, you exhaled peacefully. Oh, what a night.


Requested by: @bees-are-more-important

Kampos -- Part Two

Second installment of A Thing I’m Writing For @reioka. Gettin into the story guys. Sorry for the cliffhanger (not) also, don’t know when I’m going to be able to update next, because I just started my first job and it’s long hours and takes a lot out of me. I’ll try though!!! 

Part One


It quickly became clear that Steve and Bucky hadn’t really thought this out well. With Pepper tutting in the background they fretted, worrying over the hows and wheres of exactly what they were going to do with Tony. Hill wasn’t happy; Tony didn’t like her, and was very much cowering behind Bucky’s sheepish legs.

“Which idiot broke the tank?” Steve elbowed Bucky, who scowled.

“He’s better out here.” Hill pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He’s an ocean animal. For all you knew he couldn’t breathe air!” Bucky grumbled but had the tact to look properly apologetic and chastised. “How are you planning on moving him? Where are you planning to put him? You do realize seahorses aren’t freshwater animals, right?”

“You could let me go?” Tony tried weakly, his tail curling reflexively.

A gasped “My God” cut off whatever reply he would’ve gotten as a new human entered the room. This one had swirly, driftwood colored hair and bubbles floating in front of his eyes. “When I heard Zola ranting to those soldiers I thought he had finally gone crazy.” The human was staring and Tony didn’t really like that, although he thought he could take the human if it came down to it. The plates of his tail clicked as he curled and uncurled it, reminding himself to use his nose and not his gills. “Look at him. Amazing! And he’s intelligent.”

“He talks,” Pepper said proudly, as if she were the one who taught him human speech.

“I talk,” he echoed weakly, tired of being spoken about like he wasn’t there, curling his tail around Steve’s leg when he stepped too close. Steve grimaced but didn’t move away, smiling shyly down at Tony to encourage the closeness. The driftwood-haired human lit up, rushing forward and kneeling next to Tony, holding out his hand. This was one of those strange human habits that Tony didn’t know how to react to – they all stuck their hands in his face, like they expected him to do something with it. He stared at it, puzzled, before leaning up and nuzzling his cheek against it in affection and greeting, as he would with Natasha or Clint. The humans all got a very strange look on their faces, like they had eaten a jellyfish and it was floating around in their tummies. The driftwood-haired human withdrew his hand, his face blooming.

“I’m Bruce Banner. I’m going to help get you situated and then we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

“You won’t send me home.” It was more weakness than words, and more statement than question. He was ignored, Steve and Bucky glancing at each other uncomfortably.

“I have a tank” Bruce Banner was saying to Hill, rubbing his bubbles on his shirt, somehow without popping them.

“You mean the one you created that slime monster in?” Hill deadpanned.  

“Maybe,” Bruce answered. “We just need to fill it with water and treat it.”

“How much is this treatment going to cost?”

“A lot.”


The tank was large, so large that Tony could’ve let salt escape after being stuck in the prison for so long, but it was still not as nice as the ocean would’ve been. It took Bruce Banner a long time to get it filled. Steve and Bucky, with a very real worry about Tony drying out, took to pouring buckets of water over him. It was fresh water, but it was kind, and Tony wouldn’t die from it like a real seahorse would (at least not immediately), so it was fine.

Most of these SHIELD humans were kind to him. Actually, most of the SHIELD humans avoided or ignored him, which was very nice. Bucky, Steve, Pepper, and Bruce Banner were nice though – he wasn’t yet sure about Hill. Especially because he thought a hill was a mound of something which humans liked to climb, and human Hill was certainly not that.

The water in the tank was perfect, and he gasped in surprise as Bucky and Steve lowered him in. It felt good rushing past his gills, and he actually did leak salt, looking at the humans through the glass (and this glass didn’t distort his vision! How amazing humans were!). He beamed at Bruce Banner, who bloomed and rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his hair down.

“I did some research,” Tony heard him say faintly through the glass and water, and smiled brighter, turning to explore his new (hopefully temporary) home.

His dorsal fin beating, he uncurled out his tail, relishing in the feeling of being able to stretch out and the absence of the heavy weight that came over his body in the air with the humans. He stretched his tail, curling it around one of the fake plants someone had kindly anchored to the bottom of the tank for him underneath the sand, finally feeling safe, and popped his head above the water so he could speak with the humans.

“Thank you Bruce Banner!” he chirped.


The humans wanted to look at him.

He didn’t really want the humans to look at him, because last time humans had ‘looked at’ him it had hurt a lot and they hadn’t done much looking, more prodding. So he told them that his gills hurt and he wanted to be in the water for a few days, surprised when they agreed. They were also as appalled (read: disgusted) as he was that the other humans had fed him dead food instead of live, and graciously provided him with live food to catch and enjoy.

And after they were so kind to him, he had to let them look at him, didn’t he?

Bruce Banner was the one doing the looking. He was surprisingly gentle, explaining everything he did. Bucky and Steve stood by with him, and Tony felt safer, even though he liked Bruce Banner a lot, especially when Bruce Banner brought out the needle because he wanted to take a liquid called blood out of Tony’s body. They all promised that it wouldn’t hurt him and he could live without a little bit of it, because Bruce Banner wouldn’t take it all, so he agreed, but he forced Bucky to hold his hand while the sharp metal went into his arm. Steve stood at his tail, letting him curl around his arm in anxiety, and Tony was grateful for that as well, because it made him feel more safe. When he had his tail around something, the currents couldn’t blow him away, so it was always safer.

It didn’t hurt, and Bruce Banner really did take only a little (Tony had seen more body liquid – blood – in some fish he had eaten), and Tony decided he really liked these humans. His herd was gone anyway (don’t think about it, don’t think about it), so he might as well stay here.

It was awkward when Bruce Banner wanted to see his pouch. There wasn’t much to see, and only his mate was supposed to touch there, but the humans were still being nice to him and he still had his tail wrapped around Steve’s arm even though Steve was making a face now (Bucky kept telling him to breathe) so he let Bruce Banner look, ‘palpitating’ (he guessed it meant gently pressing, from what was happening) his belly where his plates met his skin, and then lower where his pouch was. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable – he couldn’t really feel it – but he didn’t really know what Bruce Banner was looking for either. It was the same pouch as any other seahorse, nothing really special about it, but Bruce Banner was fascinated with it.

Later Bucky was going to let him try something called chocolate when Bruce Banner walked up, looking perplexed.

“Tony, you know you’re producing pregnancy hormones, right?”


Part Three ~~ Part Four

Day 74

Featuring: Yoongi, You

Warnings: slight language

Written by: Admin V

Those eyes. Those legs. Those lips. Those hands. Only you would fall in love with a boy just by drawing him over and over again. But you really can’t help it–Min Yoongi is just too, too beautiful.  

Originally posted by bwiseoks

This isn’t creepy at all.

You sit at the back of the classroom, sketchbook out in front of you. The teacher and the other students are droning on and on, something that is just a faint buzz to you in the back of your mind.

But there was, in particular, one student that you paid attention to.

You bite your bottom lip as your pen scratches across the paper. For some reason, you just can’t capture his beauty the way that you wanted to. You don’t do him justice.

None of your sketches do.

Keep reading

5

This woman though. 😍🤓

Yvonne vs. All The Nasty ‘B’ Words - Interviewed by LA Times - 17 May 2017 [x]