Whistlingwilllows - Tumblr Posts
bitch am i really sorry though i love my man hAnk
tom hiddleston rly out here snatchin my wig again with his live ‘i saw the light’ performances and singing ‘bear necessities’ and his little bum waggle at the end and his ‘i’m sorry’
and wow im dead
thanks to @teawithbucky for reminding me about his hank williams role after a whole week of not thinking about tom hiddleston and now i wont get him out of my head for like the next three days minimum thanks-
here are a few vids i watched but,,,, i am not done
power couple
Social Justice
Request: could you do a peter kavinsky x reader imagine where everyone in the school knows your Peter’s, so they don’t even dare try hitting on you, except this one guy does it so often that Peter just gets so angry. But instead of yelling at him in a angry manner, Peter confronts him with such sarcasm and calmness that it ends up scaring the guy away? yeah idk? something like that i guess…
A/N: Hope I do you justice, anon!
As always, thank you @teawithbucky for giving this a read over before I let you all read it.
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Summary: When a new student threatens the power couple of high school, you and Peter Kavinsky firmly put him back in his place with a proper verbal smack down.
Characters: Peter Kavinsky
Wordcount: 1.7k
Rating: T (swearing, one slap, strong feminist views because I can’t help myself and I love writing a strong Reader)
You grab your what-was-once-hot coffee and sigh, raking your gaze over the stack of textbooks in your locker. It’s lunch (finally) and you’re exhausted.
“Hey, babe,” Peter greets, sneaking up behind you with his hands on your hips. Not paying him any mind, you cast a doubtful look at the chemistry textbook, wondering if you should study during lunch.
“How was the chem test?” you ask and he plucks the takeaway coffee cup from your hand. He quickly presses a kiss to your neck before taking a sip of your coffee. Making a face, he swallows painfully and you try to stifle a smile.
“It was pretty easy. You should be good to go for tomorrow.” He heads down the hall to throw away the cup as you nod to yourself. That means less work for you. Closing your locker, you smile at your boyfriend. He always has a habit of making you smile even when all you want to do is frown so much that the lines become permanently engraved on your face. Adjusting your backpack, you sneak an arm around his waist as he tosses one around your shoulders, bringing you close.
“Wanna get some subs?” Shrugging, you push open the school doors just as someone calls your name.
“(Y/N)! Hey!” Turning around, you feel Peter’s arm fall away as you spot Thomas Callaway who’d been assigned as your chem partner since the new seating arrangement had taken place. Also a new student, you’d been assigned as his tour guide for his first month. “Hey.”
“Thomas, hey.” Smiling, you brush a piece of hair behind your ear as Peter grabs your free hand, kissing your temple. “Do you need something?”
“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the movies? See the new Shades of Grey movie?” He has a smirk on his face but you, knowing that every Thursday means a chill night with Peter, shake your head.
“Sorry, I have plans.” With one last (not so) apologetic look, you and your boyfriend turn around and he reaches for the door when Thomas calls out again.
“How about lunch? We can ditch the afternoon.”
“I’m gonna get subs with Peter,” you say and Thomas’ eyes go to the taller Peter Kavinsky who has an indifferent expression directed down at him.
“Right. Is that even allowed?”
“As long as you don’t tell,” you say flatly. “Can you find your way to the cafeteria?”
He stutters for a moment, at a loss for words before uttering, “Yeah. Uh, maybe next time?” You shrug and then the two of you turn. Tossing a glance over your shoulder, you offer a forced smile.
“Yeah, next time.”
As the two of you leave the high school, Peter lets go of your hand and resumes the arm around your shoulder.
“Who was that?” he asks, acting disinterested. Knowing he’s only trying to act aloof, you nudge him in the ribs.
“My new chem partner. Play nice for now.”
“If he doesn’t stop flirting with you, I might have to mark my territory,” he mumbles with a hot glare and you laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I don’t like him either.” He tilts your chin up, pressing a full kiss against your mouth. Pushing back, you wrinkle your nose when he pulls away first. “Come on. We needa get back in time.” Tugging your hand, the two of you start in a run towards the Subway down the block.
.
As the month goes on, you find yourself more short-tempered and annoyed than a usual first month back. Normally September’s weather makes you all calm and happy, but with Thomas Callaway as your parasite, you find yourself being unable to be anything but.
It started out fine. Little proposals to hang out, to study, and then it became outrageous.
“Hey, good lookin’.”
“If your name came up in ‘Smash or Pass’, I’d full on smash.”
“Your ass in jeans shouldn’t be legal.”
Let’s just say Peter’s temper matched yours whenever the two of you saw him. To say the most popular couple in school is on a warpath is an understatement. Although the both of you are well respected in your own right, everyone knows to stay the fuck away from either of you. Every girl and guy has made a solidarity pact and everyone likes (or respects or fears) both you and Peter too much to so much as glance in the direction of your boobs and his dick.
Callaway just didn’t get the damn fucking memo.
As the date of homecoming approaches, you know that Peter will plan something elaborate to ask you out. Every year you feel the urge to tell him it doesn’t matter. He could ask you while you were in the middle of the exam and you’d still say yes. Not enthusiastically, but you would say yes. Unfortunately for you, that means that Thomas Callaway’s ‘suave’ flirtations doubled in amount.
As you stand at your locker during break, stuffing your notebook into your locker, you feel another presence hover over you.
“Hey, (Y/N).” Mentally preparing yourself, you pay Callaway no mind even when his breath puffs over your ear. “You got a date to homecoming? Because if you don’t…” He clicks his tongue and jabs a thumb towards himself. Rolling your eyes, you pause to calm yourself down before beginning to jam your textbook into your locker a lot harder than God intended.
“As I’ve told you a thousand times, I am going with Peter. I have been dating him since I have met you; that is not going to change, and I don’t want to go with anyone else.”
“Aw, come on. What does he have that I don’t?” Callaway asks, coming closer until his lips brush against your ear. Closing your eyes, you give him a count to three. You know people are staring and whispering, probably at how stupid this new guy is and when you give him two extra seconds and count to five, you’re wondering why you’re so merciful today. “Come on, baby, why don’t you bend over-”
“Woah!” Whirling around, you slap him hard across the face. He stumbles back as you storm up to him, digging a finger hard into his chest. “No. You don’t get to say that. You do not get to come to my locker, into my personal space, and insinuate things I don’t like, even after weeks of me saying no. You may have been able to push around other girls, make them feel uncomfortable, but let me tell you,” you chuckle, “you chose the wrong girl. I am not afraid to stand up to you. I am not afraid to make a scene. You have been sexually harassing me, even when I have calmly, firmly told you no. I have been forced to work with you because the school has told me to do so. You seem to mistake it for interest. I assure you. It is not. I loathe you. I despise you. And don’t think I won’t report you to the goddamn principal. You’re nasty.”
“You wonder what Peter Kavinsky has over you? A sense of what consent is near the top of the list,” you snap. “Leave me alone, Callaway.”
“Bitch,” he spits and you laugh facetiously. So he’s one of those people. “You’re probably one of those sluts who has him wrapped around your finger while you go off blowing all his friends.”
“Oh, don’t be one of those sad, sad guys. Calling me names because I hurt your little fragile ego? Slut-shaming? Really? I hope you grow up before you even think about asking another woman out again.” Slamming your locker closed, you turn to walk away when you see your boyfriend standing there with a slight smile on his face. A crowd has half-formed, students littering the halls in a semi-circle around you but you don’t care.
“You know, that wasn’t smart of you to piss her off like that,” Peter starts dangerously, walking forward and placing himself between you and Callaway. “Mostly because one, she can fucking kick your ass and two, she has a boyfriend who can probably bench press you right now if he wanted to.” Peeking around Peter, you see Callaway stare at you. “You know what else was a genius move of yours? Hitting on a girl who has a boyfriend.” Peter smiles blandly at the shorter guy as he takes a few paces up to him. “I’ve let it go, seeing as how you’re the new guy, but let me make one thing very, very clear. You come near her again outside the classroom again, and I don’t think you’ll like what happens to you, Thomas. You are not worth her time with how you act and what you say. Grow up, dude, seriously.”
Peter genuinely sounds disgusted and disappointed; so deeply so that it makes you chuckle and he glances back at you. He winks and you smirk as he turns back to Callaway.
“Go, man. Why are you still here? You’re just embarrassing yourself.” There’s a long moment where Callaway stares at you then drags his gaze back to Peter.
“Whatever. You’re not worth my time anyways. Skank.” You roll your eyes. What a classic tactic to bid for the last word. Name-calling. Cute.
“Uhm, bitch, you’re walking a fine line.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest and for a moment, there’s a long stare-off. “You’re dismissed, Callaway.” Another tense silence, then Callaway turns pushes through the crowd. “Let him through.”
“Alright guys, showdown is over. Let’s just get back to class,” you announce as Peter finally turns around with that wide smile you know is for you.
“I am so blessed that you’re my girl,” he whispers and you laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. “Honestly, I only wanted to step in for my two-cents but watching you verbally kick his ass was pretty great.”
“Well, now you’re making me blush,” you faux-swoon and he laughs, twirling you around. “Come on. Let’s get to class.” Pulling away, you extend your hand towards him and he takes it, swinging your arms as you walk to history.
“I love you.” Beaming from ear to ear, you feel your neck warm up as you stare at the tiles beneath your shoes.
“I love you, too.”
TAGS: @teawithbucky @shadowsndaisies @meemeehoelland
AAAAAAAAAA
THE CAPTAIN MARVEL TRAILER MIGHT COME OUT TOMORROW IM GOING TO COMBUST
@whistlingwillows yup
fic i wrote in an hour without proof-reading bc i was bored and had zero fucks to give: 1,000 notes
fic i carefully and seriously wrote, taking my time and proof-reading it constantly, my most self-admired work: 10 notes
Pachelbel’s Canon in Disaster
Request: firstly I just want to say that your writing is insanely good & I love reading your stuff. secondly i wanted to know if I could send in a Kavinsky request if that’s ok? you invite peter to a family function to meet your extended family & he’s nervous because he’s afraid that they wont like him because they kinda have a thing about dating within your race (I’m coloured/black btw) its always something i worry about sadly but if you don’t feel comfortable writing this that’s fine
A/N: That sucks that you have to deal with that anon. I hope your family opens up soon and you can love who you want to love. Unfortunately, I didn’t write it as a black reader because I am not black and I don’t want to offend anyone by using stereotypes. Therefore, I used people of my own race (Chinese) and went from there. Hopefully, it’s okay! I mostly wrote fluff for this because I don’t think I can bring myself to write such hate right now. Sorry for such a long wait.
As the usual, thank you to @teawithbucky for being the OG.
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Summary: When you’re invited to your cousin’s traditional Chinese wedding, your boyfriend’s feelings about meeting more of your family resurface and while you don’t want him uncomfortable, you do want him to go. So, it’s up to you to convince him.
Characters: Peter Kavinsky, Chinese!Reader
Wordcount: 1.8k
Rating: K+ (soft, sweet fluff)
You knead the back of your neck with your fingers as you wait for the water to boil. It’s nearly there and you just want to make some noodles. There’s a soft rhythmatic pad of footsteps and you turn around to see Peter coming down the stairs with the messiest bedhead you’ve ever seen. Your other housemates are either asleep or out so you have to house to yourselves as long as you’re quiet.
“Morning,” he calls sleepily, collapsing on the couch in the living room. “You’re home?”
“Because it’s noon,” you reply as you start seeing the bubbles you’ve been waiting for. Taking out a frozen slab of udon, you slip it into the water and cover the pot. “You want some lunch?”
“Yes, please,” he says, voice scraping hoarsely. You smile at him, shaking your head as he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen, sitting on one of the tall stools at the counter. Heading around to him, you press a kiss to the side of his head before pecking his lips. His arms wrap around you, pressing his face into your stomach. “Squishy,” he mumbles into your middle and you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair.
You and Peter have been dating since he saw you at the movie theatre. You two hit it off since he saw you at the release of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 at your local cinema and had argued profusely over who was your favorite (yours being Yondu, his being Gamora, which then led to an argument if Yondu even counted as a Guardian, which led to you winning and him asking you out and you saying if he ever had the luck to see you again). Over a few chance encounters, you found yourself becoming close friends and then falling head over heels in love, leading to you taking the initiative and asking him out.
The two of you now live in a house along with three others that go to a university with Peter. You yourself is an aspiring actor and have just landed a role in a TV show that’s meant to be a mid-season replacement. Hopefully it hits off.
“You don’t have work today?”
“I already finished my scenes,” you say. “I woke up at midnight, drove over, finished at ten this morning.” He raises his head, chin against your stomach and you grin hopelessly at his wide brown eyes and tangled brown hair that falls into his eyes.
“You didn’t wake me up?”
“You were binge-watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine again,” you say with a sigh. Brushing hair away from his forehead, you bend over and kiss his forehead. He smiles as you pull away and go to the pot to make sure it doesn’t burn. You take the chopsticks that are resting atop the bowl and stir around the noodles, separating them. As you do so, your phone rings and you glance over your shoulder to look at the ID. When you see it’s your mom, you look to Peter.
“Can you answer that? It’s my mom.” He takes the phone, swiping to accept the call.
“Hey, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” You turn back to your pot as Peter makes conversation with your mom. You know they get along fairly well since introducing them a few months ago and you like how they interact so you just continue cooking. Covering the pot again, you go to the freezer and pull out some dumplings you had bought before coming home this morning. Peter has a smile on his face as he talks and you use your chopsticks to transfer the noodles to a bowl and pour the pepper and green onion dressing you had prepared earlier, tossing it so it coats the noodles evenly before sticking the chopsticks into the bowl and placing it on the counter across Peter.
You slide the bowl over to him and he stops it with a hand before removing the phone from his ear.
“Your mom wants to talk to you,” he said, taking the bowl and starting to slurp on his noodles. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn off the stove and go to sit beside Peter. The dumplings can wait.
“Hey, Mom,” you start in Chinese. “What’s going on?” Peter spares you a glance when you start speaking your native language, smiling and kissing your cheek. Turning your head, you ask silently for another on your lips and he obliges quickly before returning back to his noodles.
“Did you check your mail lately?”
“Yeah? Why, is there something important in there?” you ask, trying to think back to the contents you had quickly scanned before setting it on the small cabinet near the stairs. There were bills, ads, and magazines, nothing more but-
Oh, wait.
“Oh, the wedding invite! Yes, I got it, plus he emailed me yesterday to make sure.” Getting up, you go said cabinet and take out the white envelope with the card within. Bringing it back to the kitchen, you open it and slide out the card.
“Can you make it or do you have filming on that day?” Checking the calendar hanging on the wall with a quick look, you shake your head before remembering your mom couldn’t see you.
“No, it should be fine. Unless I’m pulled for reshoots, I should be done by March so I can make it,” you say and you hear your mom giggle on the other end.
“I can’t wait to see your cousin in a suit,” she says nefariously and you sigh, eyes resting on Peter who’s sipping on his soup. “You should bring Peter along, have him meet the family.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Bye, Mom.” Hanging up, you set your phone down and read over the invitation. Seeing as it’s January, you highly doubt the director would pull you in for reshoots when the weather is completely gone in March. The series is nearly in post production and you sigh, leaning forward on your elbows.
“What?” Peter asks, setting his now empty bowl in the sink. You sigh, coming around to stand by him near the sink as he begins to fill the bowl up with water so nothing will stain. He turns to you and you loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down. Kissing him multiple times, you just savour in his presence. There hasn’t been enough time between you lately and as the snow outside layered on the sill of the window, you just brush noses with him.
“I have to go to a wedding,” you mumble, lost in his scent, as his hands settle on your hips. He’s always had this effect on you. “My mom said I should bring you as my plus one.” He frowns and your eyes scan his face, not exactly confused. He’s always shied away from meeting your family, with your differences. In fact, he had made you make sure he learned everything he could about what was proper and what wasn’t, teach him how to make chopsticks, and even when he became a regular guest, Peter always helped with the dishes and tried to be almost overly helpful.
Now, his worry had faded away after a long stalemate in the war between you and your parents. They had hated that you brought some guy who seemed lazy, sleazy, and white, and you hated that they never saw past that. The only reason you are now on speaking terms is the fact that Peter proved them wrong and they let go of their prejudices. Still, clearly the confrontation lingers in Peter’s mind as much as it does in yours from time to time. You hate to see it resurface as a much bigger beast at the thought of meeting your extended family when the two of you had thought that part of the war was over.
“And?”
“Well, do you want to come?” you ask nervously. “You don’t have to but it’ll be nicer if you’re there.” You search his face, reading every inch of his hesitation.
“I’ll think about it.” You cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek and smile.
“Okay.” Pulling away, you sigh and he leans down to press his lips into your hair. Your hands trail down his neck and onto his arms, holding him there until you are ready to leave.
.
The topic becomes a dreaded subject. Every time one of you sees the calender with the red circle around the date of the wedding, either you or Peter leave the room. You hate how your relationship changed but you can’t help it. Especially because it’s a traditional chinese marriage, you know it just amps up the pressure on Peter to accept. If he says no, it may seem like he’s disrespecting your culture because he doesn’t think it’s worth his time. If he says yes, he may think or say or do something he thinks is wrong and therefore not have any fun at all.
When there are two weeks before the wedding, you and him are hanging out in your shared bed. You’re resting at the head of the bed, back against the headboard as you work on your newest resumé while he’s sprawled across the end of the bed on his back, scrolling through his phone and reading the textbook he downloaded onto his phone.
You sneak glances up at him, trying to approach the subject carefully. You don’t know how to say it, nor how to broach the subject but you want him to come. You want to show off your boyfriend like everyone else in your family does, and you want him to meet people you’ve grown up with all your life.
“So… it’s two weeks away,” he finally says, letting his phone and his hands drop to his sides. “I still don’t know whether or not I want to come. I’ve thought about it,” he adds, propping himself up on an elbow and turning to you. “Believe me, I have.”
“I know.” You close your laptop and set it aside as he crawls up between your legs and rests his head on your tummy. Threading your fingers through his hair, you sigh. “You’ve been using that brain more often than usual,” you tease, leaning over and pecking his forehead. He glares and scrunches up his face at you but you merely sigh, remembering the situation.
“I want to go, (Y/N). You know I do. I just can’t-”
“I can teach you. Everything I know about traditional weddings; everything from clothes to food to manners. We can start and if you feel ready by the date of the wedding, we can go together, okay?” A hopeful smile crosses his face and he sits up.
“Really?”
“Yeah. What do you think?” Leaning over, he kisses you hard against the lips and you laugh into it as the two of you roll over in bed. He gently moves your laptop to the nightstand as you land on top of him.
“I think it’s a fantastic plan.” Beaming, you lean down and your noses brush.
.
Two weeks later, Peter stands beside you at the wedding reception, your hand in his.
Your smiles can not be brighter.
TAGS: @teawithbucky @shadowsndaisies @itzyagirlrae
uh not allowed
Nightingale
A/N: For @wxntersoldiers 3k challenge! My prompt was the song All I Want by Kodaline which happens to be one of my favorite songs and this fic is EXTREMELY LONG. Anyway, sorry this is so late, but I just sat down and told myself I’ll write it in one day. So I did and now I am very Tired. Congratulations to Layla for 3k followers - lots of love to you!!
As per usual, thanks to @teawithbucky because I nearly killed her in chem today. The skeletal army is coming to get your ass js
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Summary: After the Battle of Sokovia, you meet the one man who makes you bend and break for the first time in your life. AU Post-Age of Ultron until Post-Infinity War
Characters: Thor, Tony Stark, other characters to be revealed
Wordcount: 11k
Warnings: Swearing (as usual), blood, ANGST, medical jargon
Rating: H (for heartbreak)
All I want is nothing more To hear you knocking at my door
Your leg cramps as you get out of bed and grab the cane resting on your nightstand.
Which, in itself, is a omen. It is a terrible, terrible omen for what will be a terrible, terrible day. Still, a scowl graces your face as you freshen up as best as you can and then out to the hall. You manage to get down the stairs, which, in itself is a miracle that you didn’t fall flat on your face, but also, the aching in your leg softens when you sit down on the couch.
You rest your leg up on the couch, too tired to get up. You stare into the kitchen, wondering where your sister is. Normally, she’d be the one to wake you up by jumping on your bed and snuggling up to you. For a minute, panic seizes your throat, making you shoot up to call her name, but then you hear her obnoxious shouting out back and you lie down.
‘She’s fine.’ You grab the remote, thumb pausing over the power button. ‘But… I should check if she’s wearing her boots. Motherfucker.’ Grabbing your cane, you swing your legs to the edge and push yourself up, limping to the back door. If she gets sick, then it’ll most definitely be more crying, more whining, more work for you. Opening the door, the scent of petrichor immediately wafts to your nose and you smile slightly despite the intensifying cramp in your leg.
“Yo! Parasite!” you yell, walking to the porch in your slippers and glaring distastefully at the drops that pour from the overhang of the roof. Immediately, your sister in her bright yellow boots and pink-as-hell jacket comes running into your view. She’s soaked to the skin but at least she’s wearing her hood. “Get in here!”
“Morning!” she exclaims, running to hug you but you immediately take a half-step back on your good leg. She pouts and you arch an eyebrow.
“You’re wet and disgusting. Go dry up and I’ll make breakfast, okay?” She smiles toothily and you pull her hood off, pushing her into the home. Turning to the yard again, you groan internally when you see her dinosaur stuffy out there covered in mud. Since you got it for her last birthday, she’d been attached to the hip with it. You’re half-surprised to see her go in without it, but that means that it’s now dirtier than a sack of shit with stains you’re not sure you can hand wash out.
Who needs a quarter anyway? You make a mental note to visit the laundromat after work and gather your resolve to get it. Going back in to stuff your feet into boots, you trudge outside, the cane squelching in the dirt. The rain thunders around you but none touch your hair or your skin, which you expected it to. Suddenly, the motive to nearly run from your porch to the dinosaur and back leaves because your leg feels like it’s about to need an amputation. Taking your time, you reach down and take it, pinching it between your fingers and getting back to the porch.
Looking up miraculously, you frown at how the rain seems to hit an invisible barrier high above you, sliding off and around you like a glass cylinder.
In a split second, you know exactly who’s doing this.
Getting back inside, you throw the dino into the sink and run it under a stream of water, getting what you can off with a quick rinse. Sitting it on the counter to dry, you hear the door knock.
“I’ll get it!” your sister yells, thundering down the stairs.
“No!” You walk over, eyes narrowed. “What’d I say about answering doors when I’m here?”
“Don’t do it.”
“Exactly.” Pushing her behind you, you open the door to see him.
He’s trying his best not to stare, which you appreciate, but you hate him seeing you like this.
“What are you doing here, Thor?” you ask quietly, letting him in. His blond hair tied up in a bun, he’s trying his best to look like a normal human.
“I wanted to see if you are okay.” Although his words are caring, you can’t help the anger that rises up within you, at your situation, at this man who has shown up at your door time and time again. Those code words. Every single time - it’s never just a visit.
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