Reblog To Save A Muslim

Happy pride month y'all

REBLOG IF YOU HONESTLY THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER GET OVER 10 FOLLOWERS.

Reblog if you're a fanfic writer and you wanna know what your followers' favorite story of yours is ❤

shout out to all the people still following me even though im a fucking idiot

FIGHT THE FAIRIES!!

“Hmm, the fairies at Ice’s house… are happy too.” - Norway

I have no idea what you’re talking about. 

This is the truest shit ever

Me, in an inappropriate public place: *writes 2k of beautifully crafted and sexy smut*

Me, alone in my bedroom listening to Beyonce: what is a penis

I wrote a thing

Aaron opens the door to the smell of burnt grilled cheese and the sound of his husband singing in the kitchen. Aaron smiles softly, putting his gun away before making his way to the kitchen quietly. The song the younger man was singing was not in English so Aaron had no idea what it was. There was a half empty bottle of whine on the counter and the stench of the burnt bread was horrible.

“Started without me?” Aaron asks, leaning on the door frame.

Spencer whipped around, his hair falling over his face. The movement made the usually graceful man fall over.

“Aaron!” Spencer’s face lights up.

Aaron’s smile gets bigger but his eyes zero in on the paper in Spencer’s hand.

“What’s that?”  

“Hm? Oh nothing. Do you know where the lighter is?” “Why do you need a lighter-”

Spencer digs in a drawer and triumphantly pulls out an orange lighter.

“Aha!”

“Spencer Hotchner-Reid. Put the lighter down and give me the paper.”

“You aren’t my boss at home!” Spencer argues stubbornly, trying to get the lighter to light, but his fumbling hands weren’t working.

“Spencer-”

Annoyed, Spencer threw the lighter down and dug out a match book. He struck the match and managed to get the corner before Aaron jerked the paper from his hands. He puts out the fire and looks at the paper. It was their marriage license.

“Spencer, honey, why are you trying to burn our marriage license?” Aaron wasn’t sure if he was more confused or amused.

“Good luck returning me without the receipt!” Spencer says, hands on his hips.

Aaron was dumb struck. What brought this on?

“Why would I want to return you?”

“Um...well…” Spencer shrugged. “Good luck keeping me without proof of purchase!”

Aaron tilts his head. What in hell was going on? He was pulled from his wanderings when Spencer snatched the paper and barrels past him. Aaron stumbles back a little then takes off after him.

“Spencer!”

Aaron runs after him. The chase went around the couch and coffee table before Spencer darted down the hall towards the bedroom. Spencer may be lanky but Aaron was completely sober so he had the advantage.He manage to catch Spencer by knocking him onto the bed. The young man fell with an “oof” and a chorus of giggles. Aaron grabbed ahold of the paper.

“Spencer give it to me.”

“You can’t make me!” Spencer grins.

“Spencer-”

“You’re really bossy. You know that?”

“It’s in my job description. Now give me-”

“And grumpy.”

Aaron narrows his eyes.

“I am not grumpy.” He scoffs.

“You totally are. Mr. Grumpy.” Spencer laughs again.

Aaron sighs softly. Drunk Spencer was something else, that’s for sure.

“Please give me the paper?” He tried.

“It’s mine too! You don’t have to hog it.” Spencer hugs the paper to his chest.

“I’m trying to keep you from ruining it!”

“Boo. Party pooper.”

Aaron sighs again and rubs the bridge of his nose. Okay so asking wasn’t going to work. He grips the paper with his thumb and forefinger, trying to pull it free.

“NO!”

‘Spence-”

“It’s mine!”

RRIIIIPPPP

Both men’s eyes go wide.

“You broke it. Oooo you’re in trouble.” Spencer whispers, holding up the other half.

“You-”

“You’re grounded.”

“Excuse me?!?”

“You ripped the paper.”

“You are the one that took it from me.” Aaron protests.

“You took it from me first!”

“Yeah because you were trying to burn it.”

“You’re the one that left it in my reach.”

“You-I-” Aaron just shakes his head. “You are impossible.”

“You married me.” Spencer smiled.

“Yeah. I have proof of purchase.” Aaron chuckles, kissing him softly. “We’ll have to go get a new one tomorrow you know.”

“Later. ‘M sleepy.”

The Earl in blue

Life Changes (Ch 6)

Peter’s words cut Tony like a knife. He backs out of the room slowly, making his way out in a daze. He should have known better than to make those promises. It was a stupid thing to do. How was he supposed to make this up? Would he even be able to? Where did he go from here? He leans against the wall and just breathes for a moment. He needed something to keep him busy so he heads down to the ER. He needs something to distract him. Anything really. He looks around then leans over the desk.

“What do we got?”

-----.-----

Peter lay still, still a bit shocked at the news. It is just his luck that he lands his dream roll and it’s ripped away from him. What was he supposed to do with his life now? He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, stopping the tears that slipped out. He wanted to scream but he knew it would be pointless. He had a hunk of metal in his leg and no amount of screaming himself sick would change that. He looks down at his injured leg and carefully touched it. A spike of pain shot up his leg and he winces, biting his lip. His mind wandered to Tony. Tony with his stupid pretty face and kind words. Didn’t he know better than to give a dancer false hope of getting their leg back? What an idiot.

Peter looks up when another person enters the room. It looked like a nurse. She had kind eyes and red hair. Peter couldn’t help but smile.

“Dinner time.” She announces.

“Thank you.” Even though he didn’t feel like eating, he was raised with manners.

“Between you and me, the burgers in the cafeteria aren’t bad but don’t trust the fish sticks.” The nurse says, looking up and winking playfully.

“Noted.” Peter shifts and groans softly. “My name is Peter, but you probably already knew that.”

The nurse with the kind eyes smiles and nods.

“My name is Wanda.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Go for it.”

“Are there a lot of redheads here? I-I’ve seen like seven redheads nurses just walk by while I was laying here, plus there’s you and Dr.Romanova.”

Wanda looks up from the chart and laughs. It was a light pleasant sound.

“There are quite a few. Maybe we should start a club.”

“Yeah, maybe you should.” Peter agrees, picking at his food.

“I’m not going to leave until you eat.” Wanda warns. “I’ll go get Tony if you don’t.”

Peter tenses, looking up at her. No Tony. He couldn’t face Tony right now.

“No.” He says, it sounding a bit harsher than he intended. “I’ll eat.”

Wanda looks at him, seeming to be in deep thought. She nods once, before turning to check his vitals. Peter eats in silence, glancing at her every so often. She seemed to have good intentions. Peter respected that much.

“Thank you.” Peter says, breaking the silence and pushing the empty plate away.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles. “Full?”

“Yeah. It was pretty good.”

“I told you. God knows I’ve eaten in that cafeteria more often than I care for.”

“Yeah but is it worth it?”

She stops writing and meets his gaze. “Yes. More than.”

“If you couldn’t do this….what would you do?”

Wanda is silent for a moment before tucking her hair behind her ear and sitting on the edge of his bed.

“This is about you not being able to dance any more, isn’t it?” She asked softly.

Peter meets her eyes. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question.”

She sighs and nods. “I know. I’m sorry.” She takes a breath. “If I couldn’t do this, I’d find some other way to help the less fortunate. That’s my life mission I guess you could say.”

“That’s sweet.”

“What about you Peter? What are you going to do?”

Peter lays back completely and groans, laying his arm across his eyes. “I don’t have a clue honestly. All I know is performing.”

“No.”

Peter peaks out at her. “Excuse me?”

“I think there’s more to you than just being onstage.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong Miss Wanda.”

“I don’t think I am.” Wanda smiles a little. “Just give it time.” She stands and pats his shoulder. “Get some rest Peter. You need it.”

-----.-----

Tony drags himself to the attendings lounge and sinks into the couch with a groan. James, “Bucky” Barnes, a pediatric surgeon, looks up from his book.

“Rough day?” He asked, marking his page and closing the book, setting it down on the table. He absentmindedly rubs at the shoulder of his prosthetic arm, which Steve liked to draw on with sharpies and paint markers. The chief has a knack for art. Currently the arm was adorned with flowers and leaves. The children loved it.

“You could say that.” Tony says, rubbing his temples. “And it’s only….” He looks down at his watch. “Nevermind, it’s almost nine-thirty.”

“What happened?”

Tony looks over at him, dropping his arm.

“Peter hates me.”

“Peter?” Bucky asked, obviously confused.

“Peter Parker-”

“Oh! The one Stevie told me about. He seems nice. Sorry, I spent the day in the NICU.” Realizing he cut Tony off, Bucky at least looked sheepish. “Sorry, go on. Why does he hate you?”

Tony takes a breath and sits up straight.

“He got hurt during an audition today and he fell. Shattered his entire leg. Apparently he has super weak leg bones.” He pauses, staring at the floor. “It was his dream roll, super important to him. I told him we could fix his leg and get him up and dancing in no time.” His voice drops off towards the end.

Bucky sighs softly. “He is never going to dance again, is he?”

Tony shakes his head. “Tasha managed to fix his leg, adding rods to keep him from hurting himself again. He’s mad because I gave him hope of getting better. It was stupid but I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Tony,” Tony looks up, surprised that Bucky used his first name. “He is going to get better, he just won’t be able to dance again. He still has his voice so maybe he can do something with that.”

Tony nods a little. “Once he’s fully healed, Tasha wants to start his PT so he can work on walking again.”

“Well with her help and your support, he’ll be better in no time.” A new voice joined the conversation. Bucky’s eyes brighten instantly and Tony jumps a little, turning to see Steve leaning against the doorway.

“What do I do about him being pissed at me though?”

“Give him time. He’s hurt and vulnerable right now. Bucky was the same way when he lost his arm in that accident.”

“Maybe I should go visit him.” Bucky suggests. “I’m not on call tomorrow.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Steve smiles a little.

“Would you? I think it would be good to let him see that his injury isn’t the end of the world.”

“It’s a plan then.”

“Are you going to be okay Tony?” Steve asked gently, coming to sit beside him.

“Yeah.” Tony takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“Stark, it’s okay to not be okay.” Bucky points out.

“I’ll be fine.” Tony stands. “I’m going to go see if Stephen wants to go get a drink.” He pauses at the doorway. “Congrats you two, by the way. It’s about damn time.” He manages a real smile this time.

Tony wanders the hospital, looking for Stephen, when he finds himself outside of Peter’s room. He stands still, looking in the window. Peter was asleep and the color had returned to his face. Tony debated if he should go in or not. He ended up settling on ‘not’ and slowly walks away. He runs into Wanda.

“Hey Wanda-”

“Dr. Stark, I’m worried about Peter.”

Tony stopped dead and looked at her.

“I’m afraid he’s going to sink into depression. He is set on how he’s nothing without performing. I think it’s going to drive him crazy.”

“What can we do to help him?”

“I don’t know. I think he needs you though.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t want me.” Tony says bitterly.

Wanda is quiet for a moment. She sighs and turns away.

“In due time Tony. Believe me.”

Tony nods and waves her off, deciding to give up looking for Stephen and just heading to the bar. He wanted to drown his feelings.

-----.-----

Stephen finally settled down with a glass of red wine and his favorite book when the doorbell rang. He sighs and sits the book down. Who the hell would be here at this hour? He finally gets a moment of rest and hear someone was to bother him again. He opens the door and the reek of alcohol hits him before he even sees who it is. It is a very drunk Tony Starik.

“Tony, what the hell are you doing here? How drunk are you?”

“Hey Stranger Things. Can I come in?” The speech was slurred and Stephen had to grasp his arm to keep him from falling face first into the hardwood. Well that answered one question. Stephen hauled Tony into the living room and onto the couch, where he kinda just flopped over.

“Tony, why are you here? Not that I don’t enjoy your company but-”

“You talk to much.”

Stephen glares at him.

“And you’re an ass.” He retorts and picks up his book again.

Tony whines a little. “Stephen Nn”

“What?” Stephen looks over the top of his book at his pouting friend.

“Pay attention to me!”

“Why should I?” Stephen sets the book back down and raises an eyebrow. “You show up here in the middle of the night smelling like a bar and demanding my attention like I owe it to you.” His tone was not accusing but it was annoyed.

Tony sits up and stares at him. “Why are you so sad?”

“It’s nothing.” Stephen did not want to have this conversation while Tony was drunk off his ass because his boyfriend was upset.

“You’re lying~” Tony cooed.

“I’m not having this conversation right now. You need to sleep.”

“So there is something wrong! Tell me!”

“Anthony Edward Stark, shut the hell up and go to sleep. You have work in the morning.”

Tony looks surprised at the use of his full name and smirks, standing up.

“I’ll be in the guest room.”

Stephen waves him off, finishing his drink before putting the glass in the sink and heading to bed himself. He makes his way through the dark, towards his bed. He didn’t notice the dark lump until he landed on it and a voice yelps. Stephen jerks back and turns on the light.

“Tony what the hell are you doing in my bed?!?”

“Waiting for you?”

“...Why?”

Tony props up on his elbows and smirks, leaning up and planting a kiss on Stephen’s lips. Stephen froze for a moment before pushing him away.

“No Tony. Don’t.” He backs away, one hand going to his hair.

“Please?” He sounded vulnerable, scared, broken. “I need you. You’re my best friend.”

Stephen tightens jaw, fighting back feeling bubbling up.

“No Tony. You don’t. You just think you do. You don’t need me. You need him.” He turns, walking out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Tony calls.

Stephen stopped, looking over his shoulder.

“The guest room. You can stay here tonight. Sleep.”

With that, Stephen leaves his room, going to a guest room and falling into a restless sleep.

 The next morning, Tony wakes up to an empty house.

this will make you jump

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnc7OqXYIaI