he's beaming

All the times Steve nearly kissed Tony

More Avengers Assemble fluff, because AA really is the good verse <3
This can be read as a continuation to Touch if you like.


The first time Steve nearly kissed Tony was during a team movie night. Tony had, as usual, curled up on the sofa next to Steve and promptly fallen asleep on his shoulder. Any attempts to move or readjust him where met with the sort of whining growls one usually heard from a particularly grumpy cat, so Steve decided against antagonizing him further.

They and the rest of the team had been watching Some Like It Hot. The 20s setting had made Steve nostalgic, but the charming comedy of errors had made him laugh out loud. And that Marilyn Monroe - she really was something, he’d said to Clint, who had enthusiastically agreed.

After the movie had ended and the team had departed to go to bed, Steve gently nudged Tony. “Hey, sleepy,” he’d said softly. “You missed the movie.”

Tony looked up from Steve’s shoulder and opened one eye. “Worth it,” he said with a dozy smile. “You’re very comfy.”

For a moment, their eyes met, and Steve realized that he could lean forward a few inches, turn his head, and brush their lips together.

Just as Steve was wondering where that thought came from and what he should do about it, Tony snuggled his face back into Steve’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

Huh, thought Steve. That was odd.

Keep reading

Jason Todd X (female) Reader: Spanked

Summary: Jason brings his girlfriend to meet his family for the first time, and she’s super nervous and breaks out in sass. Spanking and angst ensues.

Warnings: Swearing

Key: Y/N=Your Name, Y/N/N=Your Nick Name, Y/L/N=Your Last Name Y/Na=Your Nationality

***

“Babe?” Jason asked you, disrupting you from your thoughts as you stared out the window of the limousine.

“Yeah?”

“We’re here.” He held his hand for you to hold as you stepped out, taking in the ginormous mansion before you. You’d never been here before, and it took you a moment to realize that your run-down, mangy mutt for a boyfriend lived here. Suddenly, you felt terribly out of place in your ripped jeans and free tee from someplace you didn’t remember. But looking at Jason, you noticed that his jeans and ragged tee resembled your own. Yeah, you’d be fine.

“Are you okay, Y/N/N?”

“Peachy.” You pasted a smile on your face and slipped your arm through his, making your way into the Wayne Manor.

An older man with neatly groomed hair and a grim expression greeted them. “Master Jason. Welcome back. And I trust this is Miss Y/N?”

“Yeah, my Y/N.” He beamed at you as you shook Alfred’s gloved hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Please, follow me to the den. The others will join you shortly.”

“Thanks, Alfred, but I can show her around.”

The butler nodded, bowed, and exited Stage Right. Jason gripped your hand and practically dragged you to the den.

“A little excited, are we?” You gave a light laugh as you sat on the couch, side by side. You curled up against him.

He gave you a strange look.

“What?!”

“You’re only sarcastic when you’re nervous, hon.” His arm moved up and down in a relaxing massage on your arm.

“I’m fine, Jay. Honest.” You looked up at him, gazed into his eyes so he could see that you were telling the truth.

He leaned down and gave you a peck on the lips. “You better be.”

“TT, who is this, Todd?” Damian walked in, arms crossed, scowling at you.

“I’m Y/N.” You stuck your hand out, probably too quickly, and Damian reacted with lightning-fast reflexes and was going to strike your arm, but jason grabbed Damian’s hand with equally quick motions.

“You hurt her and I’ll put you back in that coffin,” Jason growled so low, it gave you chills up your spine and bare arms.

“TT, you couldn’t even if you tried. Besides, she attacked me.”

“A handshake is a universal gesture of friendship!” You raised your voice, shocked at this kid. He didn’t look more than twelve.

“Please don’t yell. My senses are already buzzing with this much lack of sleep.”

“Drake.” Damian mumbled.

“Tim, this is Y/N L/N.” You stood and shook his outstretched hand. Jason joined you, staying close.

Tim offered you a genuine, albeit half-crazed, smile. “It’s a pleasure, Y/N.”

“L/N? Y/Na?” A man who looked to be in his late thirties entered, with a small smile teasing at his lips. You’d know this man anywhere; he was a public figure in Gotham and the States.

“Bruce Wayne! Jason, you know Bruce Wayne?”

“Well, we are at the Wayne Manor. It makes sense, since I live in his house.”

“It would have helped if you’d told me I was meeting a national celebrity. I would’ve dressed up a bit nicer.”

“You’ll dress up for my dad, but not me?” He fake-pouted.

“He’s rich. You’re a broke-ass punk that broke into my apartment drunk and dazzled me into not calling the police because you claimed you could fix my sink.”

“And I did!”

“It still drips, babe.”

“Someone call?” Dick entered, eyes immediately falling on you. He winked.

His supportive arms wrapped around you, and suddenly you regained your spunk.

“Back off, Dickhead. This goddess is mine.”

“What, you kidnapped her?” Damian remarked. You felt your inner sassmaster come out to defend yourself and your punk-ass boyfriend.

“For your information, Damian, it was more like a live-in repairman and master chef. With benefits.” You winked up at Jason as the entire group, with the exception of Damian, erupted in laughter that warmed your core. Dick had to lean his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder to prevent from falling over. You heard your own hearty giggle mixing with the baritones of the group.

You felt a sharp sting on your ass. Looking around, Jason was the only one in close enough proximity to do it. You glared up at him, but he was looking at his brothers and father, laughing. Your glare must’ve caught his attention, because he sobered up immediately and looked quite remorseful. You interpreted his “I’m sorry” look and proceeded to have a good time with his family, but you both knew that once it was over, you two would have a less-than-fun conversation.

***

You entered your shared apartment first, followed closely by Jason, who shut the door behind himself.

“I like your family. A lot,” you said, hoping to start casual conversation.

“Yeah, they’re pretty great.” He opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out.

Silence settled between you like a concrete wall.

“So, about earlier…Y/N, I’m so sorry. I–”

“Why, Jason? You knew I was uncomfortable. What the hell made you think that smacking my ass would help?!”

“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I fucked up, I get it. It won’t happen again.”

“Jay…”

“You know I love you, Y/N/N. I love you so much.”

You rolled your eyes. He had no idea how much that nickname fucked with your reasoning.

Before he knew how to react, you crashed into him and pressed your lips to his. In an instant, his hands were in your hair and at the small of your back.

“Does this mean we’re good now?” he asked breathlessly.

You laughed. “Yeah, Jay. We’re good.” He pressed a tender kiss to your jaw, which drove you over the edge of logic and reason. “Ah, fuck it. Spank me anytime you like, Jaybird.”

Charmed

By Roo @validdan and Milo @demiboydaniel / @sexgodphil

Description: Growing up is hard; growing up as an angsty gay wizard is harder.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, so much plot, friends to enemies to friends to lovers

Content Warnings: Bullying, f slur, speech impediments, belittling of speech impediments, accidental omo, underage sexual content, anxiety, love potions, cursing

Chapter One: 3.6k

Phil’s tiny form was weighed down by his trunk and a cage holding a tiny, fuzzy black kitten with amber eyes. He was small, even for an eleven year old, and he had messy black hair that stuck up all over his head and large, inquisitive eyes behind chunky, thick-framed square glasses that made his pale face look even more wan.

He hugged his mum Katherine tightly as the train whistle sounded, indicating that it would be pulling out in five minutes. He wet his chapped lips as she ushered him onto the train, murmuring a constant stream of reassurance interspersed with reminders to write. He nodded mutely, too anxious to talk, and gave her a little wave before setting off down the train looking for a compartment.

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(Little something for Tullk that wouldn’t fit into a fic on it’s own. Mostly headcanon, spoilers for Volume 2)

 

“Take care of him, Tullk.”

The first time Tullk hears that phrase, he’s still a middle-aged man, one of many Ravagers under the flag of Stakar Ogord.

And the “him” is a bulky, blue-skinned young man – Centaurian? He hasn’t seen one of them in quite a while – standing half-hidden behind the massive figure that is Stakar, red eyes glaring at Tullk as if the other has already insulted him somehow even if they’ve just met.

Well, alright, perhaps Tullk has already seen the man, being half-carried, half-dragged along as Stakar showed up with him out of the middle of Kree-territory, one of the Centaurian’s arms over his shoulder and his own arm slung around the too-thin waist of the younger while Stakar declared with cold seriousness in his voice that the young one would come with them.

And even if Tullk hadn’t seen it, the missing fin and the scars branding the blue skin would still spell slave all too loud.

“Show him around,” Stakar’s voice pulls him from the memories of wildly flashing red eyes and defensively bared teeth and he nods, saluting with a fist on his chest. “Give him some easy things to work at for today, see that he gets his own bunk and some flesh on his rips. He’s skin and bones, it’s not pretty to look at.”

There’s a growl from the Centaurian at the last remark, but Stakar simply laughs and pushes the young one’s shoulder. Tullk notes that there is no fighting back, just a grumble and something that looks endearingly close to a pout. Pup is already growing accustomed, it seems.

“You think you can do that?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tullk grins, more at the young one than at Stakar, and he gets another glare in return.

The glare is still present as Stakar leaves them with an easy wave, when it’s just the two of them. The Centaurian looks now even less relaxed than before, shoulders stiff and eyes drifting to Stakar’s retreating back one time too often.

Tullk decides it’s his turn to break the ice, and he – slowly, seeing how the red gaze immediately darts to the movement – extends a hand towards the other. “Hey there, mate, ‘m Tullk. I don’t think I’ve caught yer name, though.”

There’s a heavy silence, stretching until it’s not comfortable anymore, but Tullk smiles right through it and doesn’t even think of pulling his hand back.

His patience is met with success when there’s a voice, sounding unused and raspy. “Yondu. Udonta.”

If it’s even possible, Tullk’s smile grows even larger. “It’s nice to meet ye, Yondu. Come on, handshake, then we gonna grab something to eat first.”

A twitch and an eyebrow was raised at him in something that looked so very close to amusement. “Thought Ogord said showing around first.”

“Did ‘e? Didn’t catch that. My stomach is tellin’ me that eatin’ is first on the list, though.”

A thrill of unbound joy shoots through Tullk as the others bars his teeth – crooked, yellow and silver-capped things – in what is not a snarl, but a smile, and it makes him look so much more like the young man he still is, that Yondu. And what’s even better, a start of something, is the way rough blue fingers curl around Tullk’s, shaking them up and down carefully as Yondu rasps, “Eatin’ it is, then.”

“Glad we agree!” Tullk booms happily as he steers the other towards the kitchen.

 


“Take care of ‘im, Tullk!”

The second time he hears it, he’s well-past his best years, hair more white than grey, and he’s been part of Yondu Udonta’s crew long enough to know when Yondu is lost in thought rather than angry and so he catches the little body basically being shoved at him without startling, yelling “Yessir!” after the retreating back of his Captain.

The “him”, he discovers when looking down, is the little Terran they have picked up not more than a few days ago. Boy’s small and scrawny, pale and with red-rimmed eyes that speak of shed tears and sleepless nights.

Tullk can’t blame him, knowing how the whole crew had gathered around the child when he had been beamed up, had all but ripped his things from his tiny hands to look through it. Boy had been terrified and not understanding, seeing as he didn’t have a translator in his brain then and had only heard strange noises coming from equally strange men who had just taken him of his home planet.

A grin splits his face as he remembers the roar and the punch the boy had released straight at Retch’s face when the man had picked up the rectangular music-box the Terran had gripped so tightly. Yes, the child will find his place in the crew soon enough with that fire of his, and it’s only fair that Tullk will help him with that.

He kneels, getting on eyelevel with the tiny Terran, who only flinches slightly away from him before scowling, green – or blue? He isn’t sure in the bad lighting – eyes hard as steel as they regard him carefully. Not red, Tullk notes, but just as suspicious as the pair of eyes back then.

“Hey there, lil’ one,” he is careful to speak quietly and slowly, knowing that the brand-new translator will still be working at a slower setting right now. “’m Tullk. What’s yer name?”

There’s a bit of silence, then a sniffle that pulls at a heart Tullk sometimes wishes he didn’t have anymore, and a tiny, shaky voice, “Peter. Peter Quill.”

“’S nice to meet ye, Peter. Look, I think Capt’n meant I should show ye ‘round a bit, but how ‘bout we go grab us something to eat on the way and get to know each other a bit, first? Bet there’s a whole lot ye can tell me about yer planet, yea?”

Peter stares, and stares – gaze wandering from Tullk’s eyes to his smile, following the tattoos on his face, back to his eyes – before the boy whispers, “I’m hungry.”

“Ain’t that perfect! Then eatin’ it is, okay?” Tullk offers him a hand, full-well knowing how large his own hand is in comparison to the tiny childlike one, but he tries to push that thought away.

And smiles even wider when those tiny fingers wrap around his own calloused ones and shake it awkwardly. “…’kay.”

“See, glad we agree on that,” he grunts only a bit as he gets to his feet again – when did his knees start to crack so loudly, he wonders – and rests a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder as he steers him towards the kitchen. “Now, tell me something about that planet of yers, a’right?”

A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.

kit-kat-ronnie  asked:

22 for Klance?? I want ppl to realise how strong my blue boi is

22 - “It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.”


Lance waits with Keith at the front of the dorm rooms, watching dead leaves get churned up in the cold, morning wind. Their breath comes out in visible clouds and Keith pulls his hood up around his ears. His large suitcase stands between them.

“You don’t have to wait with me.” He says.

“Nah, it’s fine. I was up. Figured you’d want the company.” Lance shrugs. He still wears his pyjamas underneath his coat. His short hair is spiked at odd angles from sleep. Keith smiles gently. 

“Well thank you. That’s nice of you.”

“Also someone said your brother was hot and I’m really curious.” Lance smirks. Keith elbows him sharply in the ribs, which only makes Lance laugh harder.

“Here I thought you were being a good friend.”

“I’m your only friend. The bar is pretty low.”

“Hey,” Keith warns. Lance’s smile falters. He presses the back of his hand against Keith’s but doesn’t dare to hold it. Not yet.

“Hey, you know I’m kidding. Hunk and Pidge really love you.”

“You’re so convincing.” Keith drones.

“I’m your roommate. It’s in my job description to sass you.” Lance bumps their shoulders. Keith concedes and laughs. He bites his lip and glances at Lance through his dark hair. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold. Lance swallows. 

Despite their initial friction, Lance has become a valuable part of Keith’s university experience. He’s the only reason Keith has any sort of social circle, he’s the only reason his nutrition hasn’t collapsed completely… he’s the only reason Keith smiles on the hard days. Lance’s chatter and warm expressions have become a staple part of Keith’s routine, and if he’s perfectly honest, keith isn’t sure how he’ll make this christmas break without them. He sighs. Their shoulders still touch. Lance’s fingers brush against his.

“Lance…”

But Keith is cut off by a sleek sedan pulling to a stop in from of them. The driver cheerily pushes the horn, before emerging. He’s tall, broad, and pre-maturely grey in the fringe, but otherwise youthful and handsome. Lance lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Pidge was right.”

Keith elbows Lance again.

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I can definitely see you’re from the same genetic stock.” lance teases. Keith blushes.

“I’m adopted actually.”

“Huh…” Lance blinks. He tries to not look visibly uncomfortable, but he’s at a loss for words. He just nods.

“You two are still hot though. My point remains.” 

Keith groans and shoves him. He tries to distract Lance from noticing the growing blush on his cheeks. The two push each other and giggle until Shiro approaches. 

“Bro!” He exclaims, before sweeping Keith into a crushing hug. Lance had grappled with Keith enough times, fighting over the last donut or whatnot, to know that he was anything but weak. However, wrapped up in Shiro’s much stronger arms, Keith looks small and even delicate. Lance laughs loudly as Keith wriggles and shouts.

“Shiro! Stop! Put me…!” He kicks out his legs and tries to slip through his arms.

“I missed you! C’mon! Too cool to hug your brother now?” Shiro finally releases the smaller boy. Keith pouts. Lance clears his throat.

“Keith, are you being rude?” Shiro arches an eyebrow in Lance’s direction.

“What?” Keith follows his gaze. “Oh yeah! Shiro, this is my…” He pauses. roommate felt way too impersonal, but it was also accurate. Friend? No… that feels wrong. More than friend? God, that’s too strong, and he doesn’t want Lance to panic. 

“… my friend, Lance. He’s also my roommate.” Keith covers all the bases he can. He feels it accurately tells Shiro who Lance is anyway.

“Hey, I’m Takashi. You can call me Shiro.” Shiro holds out his hand. Lance shakes it.

“Lance.”

“Thanks for looking after my brother.”

“Oh, I didn’t…”

“If Keith is still alive I know he had help.” Shiro laughs. Keith pouts. Lance grabs Keith’s wrist and rubs his finger along the soft skin on the underside. Keith sighs and feels warm.

“Well, Keith’s kept me in check too. I would have failed my exams if it weren’t for him.”

“Well that’s good. Glad he’s still focused on learning.” Shiro places his hands on his hips and beams like a proud father.

“Keith, sorry, but we’ve gotta head off if we wanna beat traffic.”

Keith nods. Shiro runs back to the car and pops the trunk. Lance grabs the suitcase before Keith gets a chance. 

“Lance, you don’t have to…”

“No, let me help.” He walks the suitcase over and hoists it up. “It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.” He winks and drops it into the back. Keith shakes his head.

“I know you are.” 

Lance sheepishly grins. He steps forward. His hands move awkwardly at his sides before he decides to gently punch Keith in the arm.

“Have a great christmas man.”

“You too.”

They share a quiet moment. Shiro counts to 10 before he interrupts. 

“Keith…”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Keith and Lance share a glance. 

“I gotta…”

“I know. I’ll message you.”

Keith waves before he slips into the passenger seat. Lance stays on the curb, his hands sinking into his coat pockets, and smiles. Keith feels emptiness erupt in his chest. His hand pauses on his seatbelt. The car’s rumble vibrates underneath him and Shiro releases the handbrake. He begins to shift out of park.

“Wait! hang on!” Keith releases his seatbelt and opens the door. Shiro swears as he quickly hits the break so he doesn’t roll over his brother’s foot.

Keith jogs back up to Lance, who stands with a shocked but amused expression. 

His eyes widen further when keith kisses him.

It’s quick and chaste. A light pressure and hot breath. Keith pulls away and Lance blinks.

“I uh…” Keith’s eyes dart to the side. “I want to talk to you about…. about something when I get back.”

Lance’s shock fades and he melts into a wide grin. He tips Keith’s chin up and kisses him. A bit longer. His eyes closed and his hand just barely cupping his jaw. He pulls away and brushes Keith’s hair out of his face. He’s always wanted to do that and it sent a thrill through his stomach. 

“I’ll call you tonight. I can’t wait until you get back.”

Keith beams. He bites his lower lip.

“Ok.” 

He starts to walk backwards and fumbles with the car door handle.

“I gotta…”

“Go! I know!” Lance laughs.

“We’ll talk!”

“We’ll talk.” Lance nods. 

Keith slips back into the car and barely notices the movement of them pulling away and driving down the road. He’s too lost in his own happiness and thoughts. 

“Soooooo…. not just a friend then?” Shiro teases.

“Shut up.” Keith rolls his eyes.

“My bro’s all grown up!” Shiro wipes away a fake tear.

“I said shut up!”

Smooth Criminal

Officer!Bucky Barnes x Drunk!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s a cop and got called to a crime scene to arrest a criminal but he realizes the criminal is the person he’s dating

Word Count:1,892

Warnings: Police!Au, Language, Drunk Shenanigans, Major Floof

A/N: Written for Manu’s writing challenge, couldn’t help but write cop!Bucky again. @jurassicbarnes thank you for the fun opportunity.

Originally posted by uncensoredsideblog

It had been a quiet night for Officer James Buchanan Barnes and his partner. So far, they had to deal with a fight between two drunk men, an exhibitionist and a few reckless drivers.

Bucky had started his shift at 10 p.m. the previous night and it was now just after 4 a.m. He kept repeating ‘only two more hours’ like a mantra and tried to imagine you all wrapped up and sound asleep in your bed. He really wanted to be with you.

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anonymous asked:

Omg omg. Peter and yn really like each other but they're both super oblivious, and two of the avengers (Steve and Bucky preferably, or Nat and Clint) team up to get them to confess to each other?

“This sucks,” Bucky announced. “If I have to sit through another movie night where (Y/N) and Peter just stare at each other, I’m putting myself back in cryo.”

Steve chuckled. “Sure you will. They’re just kids, they’ll work out that they like each other eventually.”

“I’m a hundred years old, I don’t have time for “eventually”.“

The blond soldier rolled his eyes. "Well what do you propose we do?”

Bucky grinned secretively. “Luckily for you, I have a plan.”

____________________

You clutched your laptop to your chest as you made your way down the corridor towards the common room. Looking up, you noticed Bucky walking towards you, looking like a man on a mission. You thought nothing of it, until he smoothly put his arm around your shoulders and turned you to walk in the opposite direction with him.

“Um I was going that way,” you said in confusion, gesturing over your shoulder as Bucky walked you towards the research room.

“Plans change sometimes,” he replied mysteriously, holding the door open for you. You walked in, still very confused.

“Okay…so is there a reason why you’ve kidnapped me?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow. Bucky wheeled a computer chair over and sat backwards on it, resting his chin and arms on the back.

“When are you gonna tell Peter you’re head over heels for him?” he asked bluntly. You frowned.

“Never, because I’m not?” you responded, trying to sound casual.

“Doll, you can’t lie to save yourself. He’s a good kid, you could do worse.”

You sighed, sitting down with your head in your hands. “Exactly. He’s too good for me, Buck.”

Bucky frowned, wheeling his chair over so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and give you a gentle squeeze.

“No one’s too good for you, kid. You’re amazing, and Peter’s probably complaining to Steve right now that he’s not good enough for you either.”

Your head shot up, your eyes wide with alarm.

“What the fuck is Steve telling him?”

Bucky raised his hands in surrender.

“Don’t panic, I’m sure he’s being subtle!”

___________________

“So, you wanna date (Y/N).”

Peter looked up in surprise from the web shooters he was working on to see Steve leaning in the lab doorway, arms folded and a concerned expression on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” he mumbled. “(Nickname) just sees me as a friend.”

“But you don’t see her as a friend,” Steve observed, raising an eyebrow. Peter sighed.

“That obvious, huh?” he asked bitterly, sitting down behind his workbench. Steve frowned slightly, pitying the young boy.

“I’m sure she likes you too. If you’d only tell-,”

“I can’t!” Peter said loudly, before wincing at the way his voice cracked. “(Y/N)’s too good for me, Cap, she’s just too good. You don’t get it.”

“What, because I’m old?” Steve joked, chuckling. “I’ve known (Y/N) since she was nine years old, Peter. I know when she cares about someone, and she definitely cares about you.”

Peter looked up at him, doubt in his eyes. Steve shook his head, smiling slightly.

“If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself. I have a feeling she’s on her way.”

Peter frowned in confusion, before he heard your voice carrying through the corridors and his face lit up. Steve grinned at him smugly, stepping out of the doorway so it was clear, just as you skidded into the lab.

“Peter, hi!” you blurted out, wincing at your high-pitched voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He cleared his throat nervously, trying to ignore both the way your sentence sent his heart racing, and the thumbs-up Steve was giving him from behind your back.

“Well um, here I am,” he replied lamely. You took a deep breath.

“Okay well um, I wanted to ask if you would like to go for pizza tonight? As a date?” you added out of nerves, worried that you weren’t being clear. Peter’s jaw dropped, before a grin spread across his face.

“I’d love to,” he replied. You beamed at him.

“Great! Well, I better go…I’m supposed to be helping Tasha translate some files…”

You hurried from the lab before you could embarrass yourself, and almost bumped into Steve and Bucky. Both of them were grinning smugly at you.

“You can both shut up,” you warned them.

BTS Reaction to Their Child Catching Them Having Sex

Requested by Anonymous, “Bts reaction of them and their wife are having sex and their child accidentally walk in on them? And then they give their child the “sex” talk? Lmao thank you! 😂”

Note: I already did “the talk” one which you can find in my masterlist, but thanks for the request I had fun writing this!


Jin ➳ Staring into your eyes, he felt like he was floating on clouds as he would soon fall into complete and utter bliss. It was one of many nights when he made love to you, and he was so sure he was going to remember it for the rest of his life because once his son had climbed onto the bed and watched you two intently, his heart fell to the darkest pits of his ass as you yelped in horror.

It was a small and innocent voice, asking him what he was doing to his “mommy”, and he could only laugh as he pulled the blankets over the two of you as you looked away in mortification. “We were wrestling,” he said, beaming in glee as he carefully pulled out of you and reached for his boxers, “that’s all baby, now lets put you back to bed.”

Originally posted by jiminiemini


Suga ➳ He was so close, so close to reaching his climax as he pounded into you under the fluffy duvets. He was falling, drowning in ecstasy that he didn’t hear when the door squeaked open, that he didn’t hear the tiny footsteps walking to your shared bed until Yoongi felt the soft tug on the blankets. Thinking nothing of it, he exploded into you as he bit onto your shoulder to muffle his moan, and when his head peaked out amidst his high from under the soft veil, his eyes locked onto the ones that matched his own and only one thought crossed his mind at that moment.

He fell on top of you, hand reaching to cover your lips as his eyes automatically shut while releasing a sigh of content — soon snoring, hoping to anything his own son would walk away along with Yoongi’s dignity.

Originally posted by kpoop


J-Hope ➳ “Ah, baby, you like that huh?” Hoseok murmured, lips ghosting over yours while you only nodded, soon kissing you fervently as he reached down to your leg to better position himself. His vision was hazy, eyes soon fluttering shut as he spread your legs farther apart while reaching a new destination inside of you; heart fluttering and skin sweating as he smiled through the kiss from feeling you tremble while the pleasure began to get unbearable in various ways.

“Like what, daddy?” He had heard a small voice, and when his eyes opened softly with a smirk gracing his lips only to find his own daughter staring at him with her head tilted to the side in confusion — the man had let out a horrified shriek as he jumped away from you.

Originally posted by ineedakpopgif


RapMonster“What are you doing?” He had choked on air, stopping midway of ramming back into you as his head snapped towards his daughter whom was standing at the door looking beyond terrified of him. He didn’t know what to do, and when his daughter opened her mouth once more — a furious blush tinted his his ears while slowly crawling down his neck. “Why are you attacking mo-”

He pushed himself away from you, sliding his boxers up as you could only stare to your daughter in shame. “I was trying to help massage her,” he quickly explained with a laugh, and when he tried to reach for his daughter who only stepped back, he knew he had some actual explaining to do.

Originally posted by thisisjustforfunval


Jimin ➳ He was easing into you from behind, hand grasping your hair into his palm as he found pleasure in every soft mewl that escaped your lips. Leaving open mouthed kisses from your neck to your shoulder and down your back, your sudden nudge against his abdomen had him moaning in displeasure, but when he looked up to find his son with wide and innocent eyes, he felt his heart flying to his throat as he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Putting all his weight on top of you, his hands went to cover your breasts as you tried to pretend to do pushups from your embarrassed state — soon falling against the mattress due to your struggling. “Why are you guys having fun naked without me?” Your son exclaimed in disbelief, leaving the both of you awkward beyond belief.

Originally posted by go2bedjungkook


V ➳ He was way too into it, hands gripping your asscheeks as he pushed all the way into you, grin evident in his features as he watched the upper part of your body sink deeper into the bed as you had your hiney up in the air. He was losing it, soon slapping your bottom as you let out a breathless scream, only for Taehyung to hear his own son barging into the room while screaming, “leave mom alone, you monster!”

Taehyung was shooketh, eyes wide as he looked around the room to avoid his son’s eyes, his heart beating erratically was surely not from the intercourse and was for sure to be from his own precious baby calling him a monster and catching him doing the nasty, only to soon have small tiny hands try to push the older man away from you.

Originally posted by stayingmintyfresh


Jungkook ➳ It was a loud bump!, the both of you falling off the bed with giggles trailing afterwards, soon having Jungkook’s lips meet yours in a searing kiss as it soon escalated. You were on his lap as he sat against the wall, moving painfully slow until he eventually got tired with your teasing, soon grabbing your hips and thrusting upwards harshly. The room was too hot, the moment was too beautiful and he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially when his eyes had fluttered closed as you cried a soft ‘daddy’.

“Oh yes,” Jungkook muttered as he opened his eyes, eyes glancing towards the door before having his eyes on you, and it wouldn’t be long until his vision slammed back towards his daughter who had cried a soft, 'daddy?’ towards him.

He was appalled.

Originally posted by darkfrinda


Masterlist

Fruits - Peter Parker

request -  hi! i was wondering if you could write something about a peter x fem!reader where she’s homeschooled and doesn’t have friends and then she meets peter and they become close ? thanks!! 

a/n - i changed the request up a bit, and made the reader tony’s daughter to give it an even more ‘fluffy’ feel to it and i think it failed horribly BUT thank you so much for 1k!!! i can’t even believe all the love i’m getting for these fics, it makes me so happy to know you guys like them :) don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like and follow!

I sat at the dining table just across from the living room, headphones in as I watched a math lesson that was just uploaded onto my school’s website. It was just around 10 AM when my school day started, a bowl of freshly cut fruits on the table as I took notes in my small book, sometimes glancing around to see if something more entertaining was going on.

Being the kid of a billionaire had it’s perks, but some downsides to it as well. Sure, I was able to access anything through money, but I was stuck at home a good 99% of my life, hidden away from the public eye at the request of my father. I’ve never been able to go to school and have a ‘normal’ life, with my only friends being the middle aged people the world calls the Avengers.

I paused the lesson and took my headphones out, heading out to the kitchen counter to pour a cup of coffee for myself, only to hear the door opening.

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Dean/Cas: Fire

(Fix-it) written for September 18, 2017 ♥

Some nights, when they have the luxury of going to bed without an alarm, and all he can hear is the hum of the radiator plus the soft, contented noises Cas makes in his sleep, Dean lies thinking about just how they got here, about all the times that could’ve broken them.

It’s always been about eschewing convention, from the very second they laid eyes on each other. As star-crossed as any two could get: a warrior of God and a faithless man. By all accounts, they shouldn’t have worked, too much fire in both of them to truly last. Yet the fire made them brave (some would say foolish) and Cas left everything to save one man, who then tore through everything to save one angel.

And now they’re here, in a bunker in Kansas, curled up together like an old married couple, climbed into bed at ten so Cas could read while Dean caught up on emails. They still hunt occasionally, interspersed more and more with dinners at Jody’s and Cas taking Dean to the farmer’s market. Claire comes to stay with them when school’s on break, not so outnumbered now thanks to Eileen. Not that she didn’t have them wrapped around her finger before.

It used to scare Dean how easy it was, that first night when he asked Cas to stay and Cas fit in like he’d always belonged. Waking up together and laughing at Cas when he burned a panful of eggs to a crisp. Laughing that soon melted into kissing, which prompted Sam to plead, “Leave room for Jesus.”

They hold hands when they’re at a diner sharing pancakes and waffles at 1am, because Dean’s become the sort of guy who tugs his boyfriend closer just to see him smile. They could go out for burgers but he cooks them instead, ever since Cas told him that his are best, and Dean thinks he’s reached the pinnacle of being ‘whipped’ when he’s happy to let Cas take charge at IKEA.

Some nights, Dean wonders, with all they’ve been through, if he should be more generous with saying ‘I love you.’ He’s never felt about anyone how he feels about Cas, and sometimes those three words aren’t enough to express it. The sentiment is there in all they do, from the coffee he pours for Cas to the kisses he presses to his hair. The photographs that Cas tacks onto their wall, scenery shots and ‘selfies’ they’ve taken on the road. In the way Cas smiles at him with fondness tucked into the curve of his pretty mouth. That sappy exasperation hasn’t changed, like Castiel can’t help but be in love with him.

But when he sees Sam and Eileen signing to each other, ‘I love you’s over breakfast and folding laundry, and he catches how Eileen beams at Sam every time, Dean thinks maybe there’s something to it that can’t be conveyed by action alone. He thinks of all the missed chances, the bitten back words, the time they wasted in the past nine years. They’ve come so far and overcome so much. There’s nothing to keep him from telling Cas the truth.

So, tonight, he turns to Cas, pulse ringing loudly in his ears as he touches his palm to Castiel’s cheek. Cas blinks sleepily but smiles back, filling Dean’s world with a palette of blue. “Dean?” he mumbles softly, leaning gently into Dean’s hand, and the inner fire that Dean remembers ignites in his chest, steady and warm.

He has no need to glance at the clock. It ticked past midnight minutes ago.

“Happy Anniversary, Cas,” he says. A flutter of his heart and then, “I love you.”