fantastic-fandom-imagines - Tumblr blog

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 4 years

Photo

//Absurdly helpful for people writing royal characters and/or characters who interact with royalty and members of the nobility.

[x]

354K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 5 years

Photo

679K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Text

whenever na na na by mcr comes on i still go fucking bonkers and I’ll continue to do so until the day i die

44K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Text

AVENGERS X READER GROUPCHAT: THUNDER

Hey guys! Again thanks for +700 followers I’m so happy u are the bests😭❣ I finnaly downloaded the app that I had in the pther phone so here u have another Avengers x reader groupchat hope u guys like it😍❣💓

Also English is not my mother tongue so sorry if there are any mistakes😅

1K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Note

Hey! can i request for peter parker imagine? he came back late at night after fighting with some bad guy and the reader help with the injury and suddenly cry when seeing the injuries? Peter comfort her and happy ending please! thank u so much!

YES. I may or may not have accidentally started out doing one based on IW but I stopped myself and wrote this one, but trust me I have another one coming. I’ll post it now!________________

Summary: Peter needs your help, but you don’t know what to do.Words: 1613________________

“I can’t believe you’re Spider-Man, Peter!”

You’d never expected a sentence like that to fall from your lips… but it did. Weeks ago, you caught Peter crawling into his room through the window, dawned in the famous red and blue suit. In all of his glory. You’d been there to study for a test, and he must have forgotten you would be there. You were understandably shocked, and Peter had struggled to keep you from shouting his secret to the world.

He’d expected you to be happy about it, see? In a “My friend is Spider-Man! The famous hero!? Wow!” type of way. Instead, he received a twenty minute long lecture because he’d kept something so big and dangerous from you. Though, he supposed that was why he fell in love with you - you were completely unpredictable.

Now, a few months later, you were worried. You’d been trying to get a hold of Peter all day, and he hadn’t responded. Normally, you could have written it off by saying that he was just tired, or busy, or maybe visiting someone with May or something. But that was before you knew that he was Spider-Man. You couldn’t help but worry that he was somewhere, hurt, maybe even dying, and you couldn’t do anything to help him. It made you feel helpless. It made you realize that you love him, and you couldn’t stand that you couldn’t contact him.

It was that night - when you were curled under your blankets with your eyes warily on your phone - that you heard a tap on your window. You shot up, eyes wide, to see the familiar figure sitting on your fire escape. You grinned. A huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

He was alive!

You immediately leaped out of your bed and opened your window, ready to give your best friend a piece of your mind.

“Peter!” You sighed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day! I’ve called, and texted, and none of it went through. Where were you!”

There was a moment, a quiet pause, where Peter hadn’t responded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“There is no sorry right now, Dimples. You had me worried sick!”

“No,” he coughed, “I’m sorry because I… I think I might pass out… Y/N.”

“Peter?” You ran to the other side of the room and turned on the lights, and you nearly fell back in surprise at your friend’s condition. “Peter! Jesus Christ, are you okay? Come in, come in!”

With his arm around your shoulder, you helped him step inside your room. Thankfully, your parents weren’t home so they didn’t hear the crash of your curtains falling to the ground. Peter had grabbed them to try to regain his balance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I showed up here, but your apartment was much closer than mine and this just hurt so much and I didn’t know if I could make it and I-“

“Shut up, Pete! Jesus, who did this?” You sat him in the chair in front of your computer desk and pulled his mask off of him only to reveal how bad the damage - at least to the face - had really been. “Oh my God,” you muttered, eyes wide in shock.

Both of his eyes were black. The right side of his face was swollen, and his bottom lip was a bit split and bleeding. You dropped the mask and ran for the first aid kit. For good measure, you picked up a couple ice packs, some bottles of water, rags, and a bow. You couldn’t get Peter to the bathroom yourself, but at least this way you could clean up some of his wounds.

“Peter, I- uh. Hm.” You sighed and shook your head to collect yourself. “I need you to take your suit off, at least so I can see any other injuries. Your face is bad and um. I’m willing to bet it’s not the only place you’re hurt.”

So he did. He looked exhausted. Bags under his already black eyes, slouched over in the chair, his eyes unfocused and glazed over.

A ‘thud’ resounded throughout your room as a bottle of water fell out of your hands. With your mouth open in shock, you couldn’t help but stare at your best friend’s body. He was multicolored! Covered in purple and blue bruises, and red scrapes and scratches, a deep red color flowing from his wounds. You wondered how he had even made it to your apartment.

And suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

“I- I can’t do this. I- Pete- You need… you need an actual doctor. This is- Who did this to you? Oh my god,”

“Y/N, please calm down. It’s okay, I’m… I’m fine! I just need you do to this. Please. If you don’t, and I have to go to a hospital, what am I going to say happened to me? Or worse, what if they call Aunt May?”

“Please Peter, I might make this worse. Oh, god.” You wiped the dried blood from his face gently. “I can’t… I can’t fix all of this.” Tears sprang to your eyes and you suddenly pulled the blood-covered rag back from his face. Your hands shook gently as you bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from breaking.

The boy in front of you didn’t waver in his faith, though, and continued to encourage you. “Please, Y/N? I promise I’ll be fine. I can already feel my healing factor kicking in, I just…. please? You’re doing fine, I promise.”

“I don’t want to hurt you doing this, Petey.” You let out a soft sob, “I’m scared to do this. I- What if they get infected because of something I did?”

“Then my body will fight the infection off and I’ll be fine,” he assured as he hesitantly took your hands into one of his own. With his free hand, he turned your head back to look at him and wiped a stray tear from your cheek. “I trust you, but I really need you to trust yourself right now. Okay, Poptart?”

Holding back another sob, you drew in a slow breath and continued your work treating his wounds. A few times, especially around his ribs, you could feel Peter tense up or hear him breathe in sharply, so you were sure to dab much softer.

Two hours later, at almost two in the morning, you were finished. The worst of his wounds you had covered in antibiotic ointment and wrapped in bandages, and the others you were able to just cover in a small amount of ointment and smaller band-aids.

When you finished you demanded that Peter stayed at your apartment that night. It was too dangerous for him to walk around Queens at night, but it was even more dangerous for him to swing home using his webs. Instead, you insisted that he slept in your bed, while you would either take the couch or sneak into your parent’s room.

“I can’t kick you out of your bed!” Peter cried. “That’d be cruel, and really rude. I mean- this is your home. I’ll take the couch.”

“And irritate your wounds in the many uncomfortable positions you’ll be in? I won’t let you. They won’t heal properly, or they’ll just hurt worse. But either way. You’re sleeping in the bed.”

“Then sleep here with me.” Peter responded before he realized what he’d said. At your taken back look, he stuttered. “I-I mean, if it wouldn’t bother you. You don’t have to if you would be uncomfortable, I just thought that ma-“

“Okay.”

“…really?”

“Yeah, I mean… you don’t care, do you?”

Peter shook his head. “No, not at all! I mean, I’d really like for you to.”

You smiled, more to yourself than at Dimples over there. “I’d love to then. But… Peter, I have something I need to tell you.”

You twisted a ring on your finger as you sat there anxiously in the silence.

“I need to tell you something, too.”

“Same time?”

Peter nodded. It was something the two of you had done often, ever since you were little kids. If either of you had news - be it good or bad - you’d taken to speaking at the same time. Especially if the news seemed to upset the news-bearer. It made it much easier for the two of you to let it out because you know that the other person was only half listening. But it was easier to repeat a second time when you had already said the news once.

Peter, Dimples as you called him, held up three fingers and the two of you counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

“I think I love you.” “I really really like you.”

You froze. Peter’s face was flushed tomato red. You knew that you were the same, and you desperately wanted to talk to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. So you didn’t. Instead, you crossed the room to him and carefully wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter, of course, reacted by wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly to him, almost as if he was afraid he would lose you. You buried your face in his chest as butterflies fluttered wildly in your stomach.

Moments later, you were laying under the covers with your head resting on his chest. It felt… strange. But you knew that it was right. You’d never been so sure of anything in your life. Peter Parker was yours, and you were his, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything or anyone.

And for the first time in a long time, life was perfect.

43 notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Text

Imagine Tony having a panic attack after Infinity War. And he’s calling out for Pepper or anyone and he realizes that they’re all gone. He’s alone. He’s alone, still on the remains of Titan with no one around (sure there’s Nebula but he doesn’t know her), and the ashes of Peter, just the young boy he was a mentor, and a father to, on his hands.

And he just breaks even more.

1K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Text

coming up with a fic idea: heck yeah

developing the idea: H E C K Y E A H

actually writing the idea: oh no

65K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Text

charlie weasley was presumably like 17 or 18 years old when he decided to move to a totally different country so he could hang out with a bunch of fire breathing death lizards EVEN THOUGH playing professional sportball closer to home was apparently a thing that was on the table for him and i know everyone likes to romanticize that and talk about how much he must have Really Loved those fire breathing death lizards but i can’t help but feel like that whole situation (especially in the context of bill ALSO running off to go travel the world on dangerously shady code breaking treasure hunts or whatever) was more of an indictment of how toxic all those Big Brother expectations could be and clearly WERE when you look at how they also influenced ron’s perception of himself relative to everyone else

like charlie obviously loved his family

but

from a distance, you know

4K notes · View notes

fantastic-fandom-imagines · 6 years

Photo