his tangle

When Sam realizes he’s meant for hell, he’s terrified.

“Stay away from me,” he pleads to Dean. “I can’t drag you down with me.”

Dean’s fingers tangle in his hair, and he tugs, forcing Sam’s head back.

“Drag me wherever you’re fucking going,” Dean snarls against Sam’s mouth. “Just don’t you fucking try to leave me again.”

or just needed to know

vulnerable!kuro can’t sleep, protective!keith comforts him | Keith/Shiro, Keith/Kuro | for @voltronwhumpweek2017, insomnia + helping with depression | [ Ao3 link ]

Keith sits on Shiro’s bed, moves beside him, takes a breath. Shiro doesn’t stir, or even acknowledge him, the shadows beneath his eyes look like bruises in the dark.

Except it isn’t Shiro. Keith knows it, and Shiro knows it, and Keith doesn’t know the first thing about making something like this okay, only that he won’t rest either until he does.

“I heard you walking about,” Keith says softly. He ventures his hand toward Shiro’s hair- damp and matted on his forehead- thinks to check for a fever, or just run his fingers through the tangled strands, quiet and steady until Shiro goes to sleep.

Keith pauses, scrunches his fist and lowers it to his lap. Shiro might not want him to do that.

Not now.

Shiro’s stare flickers toward Keith’s hand. His mouth pulls down at the corners, he blinks for a second too long. It takes Keith a moment to read it, and when he does, something small and sad uncurls in his chest.

…Shiro’s trying not to look hurt.

“Hey,” Keith whispers, but falls silent as Shiro turns aside to cough- once- twice- then he shakes his head, exhausted, eyes watering behind his sleeve as the fit continues. Keith knew Shiro hadn’t been sleeping properly- not since they’d found out- but it’s only been a matter of days, and he’s shocked to realise just how much worse he sounds.

“Here, shh- hey- I’m going to sit you up, okay?” Keith murmurs, reaches both hands below Shiro’s arms. It barely makes a difference as he tries to lift, but Shiro pretends it does by helping, manages a shaky smile as Keith settles him upright.

“Thank you,” Shiro mumbles, and he sounds so drained that Keith can nearly feel it, a pang of emptiness swelling in his own chest.

“I care about you,” Keith says suddenly, the words unexpectedly fierce. “I still care about you. I want you to know that.”

He raises a hand to Shiro’s cheek, clumsy, he wants so much to hold him, but-

Shiro closes his eyes, his torso lifts with an inhale and he leans into Keith’s touch, his expression gritted in that same, stern sort of grimace that Shiro- Keith’s Shiro- gives when he’s trying not to cry.

… it never really works for Shiro either.

“Sorry-” gasps Shiro, and he angles his face the other way, as if trying to spare Keith the sight of it. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not him. I-”

He clears his throat, harsh and desperate as he tries to keep his voice steady, sucks a breath through his teeth as it falls apart. He’s beyond exhausted, brushes a hand to his chest as the depth of it seems almost tangible.

“I’m here for you, Kuro,” Keith whispers harshly, and it isn’t until the words leave him that he realises how much he needs to hear them too. “And the absolute very, very last thing you need to be, for something that is the furthest thing possible from being your fault…”

Shiro turns back to face him, wipes his nose on his sleeve.

“…is sorry,” Keith finishes, “for anything.”

Keith lowers his gaze in the silence that follows, jaw clenched and pulse still whirring. But then, slowly, Shiro smiles, so weakly that it almost breaks Keith’s heart, and mumbles,


For a moment Keith blinks- where- how did…

And then his outburst replays in his head, and his cheeks flush warm with regret.

“Oh,” says Keith, and then, “ohh..

“You want to call me something different?” Shiro says softly.

“No, no no, not if you don’t want me to-” Keith stumbles, but Shiro reaches for his hand, gives a tentative squeeze. His fingers are strong, slightly calloused and gentle, his expression less haunted as Keith squeezes tightly back.

“I… am so sorry,” Keith says again, swallows. “I didn’t mean to say that. Not before I asked you. It’s just something that came to me- in case you ever wanted us to. Because it sounds a bit like Shiro, uhm, and-”

Shiro looks more curious than upset, his eyes somehow less bloodshot as he blinks, then sniffles.

“…and a bit like Keith,” Keith mumbles, feeling worse than ridiculous as he hears that out loud.

“Oh my god,” Keith says after a second, when Shiro doesn’t reply. “Can we please forget I ever said that, I-”

“-I like it,” Kuro murmurs under his breath, gives a small smile as he glances up.

The tips of Keith’s ears prickle uncomfortably warm. Kuro nods again, shyly covers his mouth as he yawns.

And then Keith smiles back.

“Hey,” he says softly, Kuro hasn’t looked this relaxed for days. “Why don’t we see if we can get you to sleep for a bit, huh? It’s okay if you wake up- I’ll be right here, and we can always give it another go later-”

He keeps talking, gets up to lower the temperature a notch, then fetches Kuro a second blanket. Kuro watches, wary, his posture stiffens slightly as he braces himself for the attempt.

Keith moves back to the bed, gently lays next to him.

“Can I try something?”

Kuro turns his head, hopeful, nods sheepishly again.

“Okay,” Keith murmurs, wriggles closer. When he lays down again, his head is resting in the middle of Kuro’s chest. Kuro’s body unclenches as the weight sinks against him, he lets out an aching breath.

“Oh,” says Kuro, and then, “ohh..

“Yeah-” Keith smiles, gives a husky laugh. “It’s kind of comforting, right?”

“Yes,” Kuro whispers, peers down at him as his hair falls over his eyes. “…yes.”

“Shiro would sometimes lay like this with me,” Keith admits, and being able to say that comforts him too. “When I had a nightmare, or just… needed to know…”

“…that he was there,” says Kuro, and Keith tucks Kuro’s arm around him, feels his breath slowly lengthen, his eyelids drooping closed.

“That I was too,” Keith says quietly.

Cuddling with Connor Murphy

-Connor had been having yet another shitty day
-You drove yourself over to his house right after school as you could tell something had been off
-Zoe would be out at jazz band rehearsal, Cynthia at a yoga class, and Larry still at work
-You and Connor would have the house to yourself
-The door was unlocked, so you let yourself in and walked up the stairs, finding him in his room
-Connor was laying on his bed staring at the ceiling
-He would stay silent
-You would slip off your shoes, and crawl in bed next to him, one arm around his waist and one hand brushing through his tangled curls
-After ten minutes, he would finally speak
-“It’s just so fucking hard.”
-“I know babe.”
-Connor would roll over onto his side and hold you as tight as he could not wanting you to leave him
-Your presence made him feel grounded
-He really fucking loved you
-Eventually you would both fall asleep in each other’s arms

A/N lol this is shit. feel free to send in headcanon requests!

anonymous asked:

Arranged marriage obikin, the first time they meet is on their wedding day as it's a political marriage based on a treaty. Neither wanted this wedding but when they see each other the first time at the altar, both are very attracted to each other. Maybe a ficlet of that moment?

Anakin gave himself the once over in the floor-length mirror. He reached up and combed his fingers through his hair, freeing the tangled knots. He dropped his arms to his sides, craning his neck from side to side looking to at his reflection in the mirror. Face somber, expressionless, Anakin tugged on the lace lining of the coat, tightening it over his chest and buttoning the two golden clasps. The clasps shaped like the flatleaf that used to grace Tatooine’s surface, a painful reminder of what life had been like on the planet before the Sith’s curse. The blonde ran his hands over the coat, breathing out as he felt the onyx threads run up against his palm. The silver and gold beading that trimmed the jacket lightly reflected onto the stone walls of the room he was getting ready in. He pulled on the hem of his sleeves, pulling the shaped fabric further down his arms. A light breeze attracted the young prince to the window, and he approached it, clutching and holding his hands behind his back. He looked out onto the lush green planet that would soon be his new home. Anakin scowled at the peace and beauty that engulfed him. He resented the advice of his Council, resented the tragedies that’d brought him to this moment. He was being used as a political pawn, and he hated it. The idea of an arranged marriage disgusted him. There’d be no love there, no trust. Anakin couldn’t bear the thought of spending his life with someone who was picked for him to further the standing of his country.

Anakin loved his kingdom, he did, and he would have done anything to help them. Force knew they needed it now. They’d been in a drought for decades, their vegetation and water had long become scarce, all because his parents had gotten on the bad side of a Sith Lord. The Sith had killed his father outright, striking him down as he slept, leaving only his pregnant mother to tell the tell. His mother had been a kind soul, always caring for others. She instilled those qualities in himself, too, but he was struggling now. She’d been taken from him by the Blue Shadow Virus while on a trip to Naboo. Anakin need her, he knew she never would’ve let things get this far. He leaned onto the stone opening, his forearms resting under him.

“I’m scared, Mother.” He whispered into the howling wind.

“I know it’s my duty to do this. My duty to the kingdom, the citizens…My duty to you.” He exhaled heavily. “I should be honored to serve Tatooine, I’m just not. To doom myself to a life with no love? How can I do that to myself?” He wrung his hands together, feeling the bones crush against each other. “You told me stories of you and father, how much you loved each other. That’s all I want.” He sighed, his head dropping to rest on his fists.

Obi-Wan stood in the field, the knee high blades of grass swaying in the breeze. The turf brushed up against his legs, as if silently consoling him, trying to quell his fears. He looked out at the flora that graced the whole Kingdom. They had always had wealth on Stewjon, but of late, the problems were coming beneath the surface. Corrupt officials, espionage and treason within the militia- the Kingdom was struggling, and needed the firm hand of another to set things right. Obi-Wan squinted up into the sky, arching his hand above his brow at the blistering sun. He nibbled on his bottom lip, the wind picking up and dropping his auburn locks into his eyes.

Obi-Wan looked out onto the horizon of the land that he’d grown fond of. Orphaned at an early age, he’d been taken in by the widowed King, Qui-Gon Jinn, his family eliminated by the plague. The man had taken him in as his son, educated him, trained him in all ways suitable for a royal. Stewjon had thrived under his reign, loved and trusted by the people. When he had passed, though, seeds of distrust and manipulation were planted, and Obi-Wan had been forced to mature quickly to deal with the problem. The union with Tatooine had been his idea. They were struggling just as much, but they were strong where Stewjon lacked. Their ruler, Anakin Sykwalker, was emotional and brash, but ruled with a strong hand. That’s what the kingdom needed, and it was worth the sacrifice of happiness. According to Qui-Gon, though, love was overrated. Losing it was a devastating price he’d warned Obi-Wan not to buy into. “Love leads to attachment. An attachment, when broken, leads to devastation and emptiness”, the older man had said once, and Obi-Wan had taken it to heart.

The sun bored down onto his fair skin, and he gulped when he heard the sound of the steeple bells in the distance. He fiddled with a blade of grass tickling his fingertips, uprooting it and placing it in his pocket. He dug the toe of his boot in the ground, hesitating for only a few moments before turning and heading to the ceremony.

The scene was set. The chapel had been filled with Council members from both Kingdoms, and the clergyman was present at the altar. Tapestries bearing both house crests with subtly waving in the breeze creeping in through the drafty structure. The candelabras had their waxy sticks lit, providing an intimate aura to the ceremony. Obi-Wan stood facing the bishop and the lectern, his left hand clutching his right, and his head hanging towards the cobblestone. The man sucked in a breath when he heard the screeching moan of the cast-iron door and a gush a wind rush into the cathedral.

The auburn haired man straightened his posture and closed his eyes. Be brave, be bold, he whispered to himself, a murmured prayer to the Force. He turned then, and laid his eyes on his future husband. His mouth parted into an ‘O’, and his eyes raked up and down the man swaggering towards him. The obsidian coat hugged the man in all the right places, and the collared shirt allowed a sneak peak to the sun kissed skin below. The ensemble providing a striking complement to the blonde’s haunting blue eyes. Obi-Wan felt dizzy, breathless almost, and turned back around, his eyes looking for any kind of anchor to stay his emotions.

He felt when Anakin reached him at the front of the little chapel, and he licked his lips. Obi-Wan turned around and offered out his hand to his betrothed. Anakin looked almost hesitant, and he met Obi-Wan’s eyes. Obi-Wan watched as a fluster of emotions flashed across Anakin’s face. Anakin’s eyes settled on what seemed like surprise. Happiness maybe? Anakin reached out and clutched Obi-Wan’s hand, a spark of electricity surging through them. Anakin’s eyes widened, and Obi-Wan’s mouth curved into a smile. The two men turned and faced the official.

“Are we ready to begin?”

Obi-Wan looked down at his fingers- intertwined with Anakin’s, a man he expected to be indifferent to, perhaps even despise- and smiled. An unknown future now ahead.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan stated, plain and simple.

“I think we are.” Anakin finished. A flash of his teeth in Obi-Wan’s direction and a light squeeze on their hands.

Did they believe in love at first sight? They were about to find out.

anonymous asked:

24k's reaction when you give them a blowjob while they're playing videogames.


He moaned and his focus shifted solely on you; he grabbed the back of your neck and slowly moved his hands to your back



He had his hands on the controller until you moaned and he dropped it and wrapped his fingers into your hair, gently tugging it, forcing your head down


The moment he felt your mouth touch he put his controller down and pushed his hair back; he moaned out a broken sentence, pausing between each word

“just..like.. that”


After he asked you to stop and you didn’t, he took full control of the situation by tangling his hands into your hair and bucking himself into your mouth

“I hope you can handle this”


He got a bit frustrated; he ended giving up on trying to get you to stop. He laid himself back and began a mix of moaning and groans, he bit down on his lip before saying to you

“That feels so good”


He held his controller with a tight grip; he shifted his hips to try to push you off a bit, trying to focus on his game, but he gave up and laid back

“You win, Jagiya”


He was focused on his game until you began sucking harder. He bucked his hips into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat

“Fuck.” “Your mouth feels so good, baby.”


anonymous asked:

Ribbon girl likes to hug her opponents after a fight, but whenever she hugs master mummy her arms get tangled in his, and they get stuck together

That’s really cute and funny omg

  • It annoys them both to no end
  • Ribbon Girl loves hugging him, but she can’t stand having to untangle their ARMS
  • it takes forever
  • And they only get tangled when she hugs him
  • Nobody else
Unpopular Voltron opinion, with meta to back it up.

I don’t think the big Keith and Lance scene in episode 6 was meant to be seen as having gone well, or for things to be getting back on track in regards to Lance’s doubts. I’m actually pretty sure the conversation unintentionally made things with Lance even worse.

Just because Keith and Lance shared a scene alone together, without any fighting or outward disagreements, does NOT mean it went well. I know everyone who is a Klance shipper wants that to be the case, but the whole “5 feet apart” jokes and logic with their ship shouldn’t suddenly change the emotional tone that is ACTUALLY present here.

Do not get me wrong, it is clear that both of them wanted this talk to go well without any confrontation, and to talk with a level head and with honesty. They have both grown as people to realize this. It doesn’t mean there wasn’t a major miscommunication here. 

Lets go through this moment by moment, shall we?

Keep reading

Side to Side

Pairing: Tom Holland!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Prompts: None

Word Count: 2465

Warning(s): Some swear words, slight smut (Nothing crazy but it goes there)

Requests: I have like 10 followers so like none of you pay attention to me (jk jk you guys are cool)

Song: Side to Side  (duh) by Ariana Grande

Author’s Note: This is kinda crap but I’m totally obsessed with Tom Holland and Spider-Man Homecoming so come on this wild ride and be trash with me! Give me feedback please I promise I’ll get to it in like 10 years

Summary: Reader and Peter (slant rhyme woo) are friends and both on the Avengers. They’re training in the gym and things get s t e a m y…

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Keep reading

Tease || Tom Holland

Relationship: Tom Holland x reader

Summary: When you tease Tom all day, he decides to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Warnings: S M U T (18+)

Word Count: 1631 words

A/N: another tom smut was highly requested so here ya go bust a nut !!!

Keep reading

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.
i think it’s time i told you (i’m a fan of your universe) (1/1)

Years after Hawkmoth’s defeat, Ladybug and Chat Noir have a conversation about life, love, and marriage.

Ladybug checked her communicator for the third time that night, and frowned.

The green pawprint blinked idly back at her, resting at a junction between city streets—the same place it had been every other time she’d checked.

They hadn’t arranged to meet up that night. It was her turn for a solo patrol tonight, and there hadn’t been any trouble big enough to make calling for help a necessity. She’d stopped a couple muggings, interrupted a robbery—normal, small things. Nothing that needed an extra pair of hands.

And, sure, they both transformed just for the fun of it sometimes. Sometimes they caught one another out on morning strolls or midnight snack runs or impromptu patrols, but usually those involved moving around.

Chat’s tracker hadn’t moved in the past two hours.

She shouldn’t worry—Hawkmoth had been in jail for the past three years and Chat wasn’t in a bad part of town right now—but…


The green pawprint blinked at her from the same junction, at the same pace, unmoved.

Ladybug abandoned the end of her route and headed downtown.

Keep reading

prompt: “i had a nightmare about you and i just wanted to make sure you’re okay” + “hey, i’m with you, okay? always” + “do you want me to leave?” + “i think i’m in love with you and i’m terrified” + “i shouldn’t be in love with you” + “kiss me”

pairing: tony x reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: nightmares, 2am confessions of love, purest form of fluff

prompt list: click here

a/n: i wanna give tony all the love he deserves he’s the purest soul in this world and he needs to be reminded how wonderful he is every hour of the day x


It was just past 2am when Y/N’s eyes shot open, her heart going 120 miles per second in her chest. Her fingers were gripping the bed sheets firmly and there was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

She was never one to suffer from nightmares but the dream she had just violently woken up from could surely be on the top ten list of the worst ones she ever had.

She slowly relaxed, staring up at the ceiling, still breathing heavily.

It was okay. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.

But as she continued to look at the vast expanse of space above her head, barely being able to make out the shape of the chandelier in the pitch black room, she realised that the feeling of dread simply wouldn’t go away and allow her to go back to sleep.

Something felt horribly wrong. It was like that feeling you get right before you get your results after a test you didn’t study for. Except multiplied by twenty.

She reached under her pillow and searched for her phone, squinting at the screen as she attempted to read the time. She knew everyone in the compound was asleep but the idea of staring at the ceiling until morning, feeling this awful sense of doom, wasn’t a good idea.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” She whispered, too quiet for any person to hear.

“Yes, Ms Y/L/N?” The voice sounded through the room and as strange as it was, Y/N was glad this computer system was watching over her and would inform someone if she was in trouble.

“Do you happen to know what Tony is doing?”

“Mr Stark is currently sleeping in his bedroom. Would you like me to wake him up?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“You are more than welcome.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she pushed the covers off and sat up. She looked around her room; there was a soft beam of light coming in through the curtains that relaxed her a little but she just felt so damn alone in her room after that nightmare.

She slowly stood up and made her way to the bathroom where she splashed some water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror for a moment.

The horrid feeling just wouldn’t leave her chest. It was as if the world was closing in on her and she couldn’t do anything about it until she knew he was safe.

F.R.I.D.A.Y had told her he was. He was asleep in his room. But computers could crash and even Tony’s tech could break down every once in a while. Knowing this, Y/N also knew she wouldn’t fall back asleep until she saw he was really okay.

So she dried her face with a soft towel and shut the lights out in her bathroom before exiting her room and beginning her descent towards Tony’s quarters.

The walk was long and Y/N’s bare feet were cold as they padded across the white tiles of the hallways. She liked living in the compound but walking through it alone at night felt like wandering the halls of a hospital when everyone else was sleeping. The walls were white, the floors were white, and there were elements of steel and glass everywhere.

It wasn’t surprising; the building acted as a headquarters for one of the biggest businesses in the world and only a small fraction of it consisted of living spaces. It seemed, however, that her bedroom was miles away from where Tony’s quarters were located. She had to take a long hallway, then a set of stairs, then another hallway, and climb another two floors before she reached it. By the time she was standing face to face with his door, the feeling of dread in her chest had grown by a thousand.

She knocked softly and when she didn’t receive a response, she pressed down the handle and gently pushed open the door. Because of how new the building was, the door did not creak and Y/N was beyond thankful. She pushed it open just enough to squeeze her head through and see if Tony was around. Realising he wasn’t, she pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

The living area of his apartment was lit up by moonlight which seeped in through the giant windows. As F.R.I.D.A.Y. had told her, Tony wasn’t on the sofa, or in the kitchen, and the door leading down to his lab was closed, meaning he wasn’t in there, either. The only place left was his bedroom.

Y/N shut the door behind her quietly and tiptoed towards where she knew his room was located, almost walking into the corner of the glass coffee table.

When she finally reached his room, she noticed the door was ajar, and just like before she stuck her head inside. She scanned the room, quickly realising that from where she was standing she could not see Tony’s bed. So she lightly pushed the door open and to her horror, the hinges creaked as if they were fifty years old. Y/N cursed under her breath because a second later Tony’s concerned voice rang through the room.

“Who’s there?”

Y/N inhaled sharply and emerged from behind the half closed door. Tony was now sitting up in his bed, the white covers bunched around his waist and his face displaying mild apprehension. Next to his bed stood one of his suits, eyes glowing, left hand outstetched, ready to fire.

“It’s just me,” Y/N murmured, seeing Tony visibly relax. He expelled a breath.

“Power down.” The suit dropped its arm, took a few steps back to stand in the corner and its eyes stopped glowing like two burning torches.

Y/N remained standing where she was, her fingers shyly curling around the hem of her pyjama shorts. She casually studied Tony’s face to make sure he was okay.

“Why are you here at…” he glanced towards the clock on his bedside table. “2am?”

Y/N hesitated, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She could feel the softness of Tony’s white furry rug between her toes, the pleasant heat of the electric fire place burning in the corner of the room, and the innocent curiosity of his eyes as he waited for her to answer.

On top of it all, she could also feel her cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He remained quiet for a moment but his expression softened as he studied her from across the room. She looked spooked and Tony wanted to ask her what the nightmare was about, but he figured this wasn’t the right moment. She already seemed uncomfortable after having been caught checking up on him.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly and Tony nodded softly in response.

“Yeah, and are you?”

She bit her lip and then shook her head. And in an instant she was rushing across the room, climbing onto his bed and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong? What did you dream about?” He asked quietly, recovering from the shock and slowly beginning to stroke her hair. She moved to sit on his lap, her face buried in the crook of his neck, feeling so much more relaxed now that she could feel the warmth of his skin, hear his quiet breathing, his hands wrapped tightly around her. Y/N never wanted to let him go, afraid that if she did, he’d vanish like he did in her nightmare.

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” Tony assured her, honestly kind of confused by why a nightmare about something happening to him would affect her so much. They were friends, sure, but he was also friends with the rest of the team and not a single one of his other co-workers had rushed into his room at 2am because they were scared for his safety. Something felt different about this situation, and as he continued to hold her, feeling her grip him so tightly he’d find it painful if the situation was any different, Tony began to wonder why she was so shaken.

She remained sitting in his lap for minutes, and when she hiccuped quietly Tony realised she had been crying. He tightened his grip on her, threw his bed covers over her shoulders and pulled her down to lie down with him.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N apologised suddenly, sniffing a little and feeling so damn silly. But Tony wasn’t laughing at her, and he wasn’t teasing her for being an idiot. He just held her tight, let her lie down with her head on his chest and continued to stroke her hair as she attemtped to calm down.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s going to be okay.” He kissed her forehead and in response Y/N released a shaky breath and closed her eyes. It was fine. He was safe. Nothing bad had happened to him.

“It just seemed really real. I got scared that something might’ve happened to you,” she muttered into his chest, and Tony could feel her fist the fabric of his t-shirt. He kissed her head again.

“I’m alright. Nothing has happened so you don’t need to be scared,” he assured her softly, and when Y/N sniffed, Tony placed his hand over her own. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

She nodded softly, squeezing her eyes shut so that her remaining tears fell on her cheeks and then she promised herself she was fine. It was just a bad dream.

“Do you want me to leave?” She questioned, her voice barely audible but Tony was so close he heard every syllable clearly. Y/N silently hoped he’d let her stay; she didn’t want to go back to her room and sit in the daunting silence. She felt too at peace right where she was.

“Do you want to go?” He asked instead of answering her previous question and when she shook her head, Tony’s lips curved up into a soft little smile and he pulled her even closer to him. “Stay then. You’re more than welcome to.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he kissed her head one last time before feeling her relax in his arms. Tony took this as his moment to go back to sleep so he shut his eyes and savoured the feeling of her arm draped over his stomach, her head on his chest, her legs tangled with his. She was breathing softly, the sound lulling Tony to sleep and soon he could feel himself beginning to drift off.


The sound of her voice pulled him back to reality.

“Yes, dear?”

She remained silent for a moment. Y/N bit her lip and for a moment, she wished she hadn’t called his name. But she did, and now Tony was waiting for her to say something. And other than the one sentence which had been flashing in her mind like a bright neon sign for the past month, she didn’t really have anything else to say.

“I know it’s silly but…” She paused, inhaling sharply and Tony stroked her arm, scared she might cry again. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

He didn’t respond immediately and a moment of strangely peaceful silence lingered in the air. It felt good to have it off her chest and surprisingly, Y/N didn’t fear getting rejected because even if he didn’t feel the same, they’d still be friends; and that was more than enough for her. Just knowing he was happy and safe was enough for her.

The sheets rustled as Tony moved under her. For a moment she thought he was going to remove himself from the bed, but instead, he rolled over onto his side so that he was facing her, and pushing Y/N to lie on her back instead. He looked down at her and instead of lying motionless and waiting for his response as any other person would after confessing their feelings, Y/N reached up and cupped his face in her hand.

Tony’s eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into her touch. He smiled softly, and when Y/N noticed, she smiled, too. They didn’t move for several seconds, but then Tony opened his eyes, removed her palm from his face and brought the back of her hand to his lips instead.

He pressed a long kiss to the soft flesh, looking at her face while his mouth was still against her skin.

“Why are you terrified?” He asked then, his voice quiet, laced with curiosity.

“Because,” she whispered back. “I shouldn’t be in love with you. But I am, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Tony smiled at her words, turning her hand and then kissing the inside of her wrist. With each kiss he moved his lips lower, leaving at least fifteen kisses on the inside of her arm alone.

“There is one thing you can do,” he told her, and when Y/N quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Kiss me.”

And just like that, Y/N was reaching out to cup his face again, using what little strength she could find at 2am to pull him closer. Tony held himself above her by placing his hand on the mattress next to her shoulder and leaning down to finally capture her lips with his own.

She held his face above her, lifting her head from the pillows to bring herself closer to him, and when their mouths met, she felt all her worries evaporating into the air. Tony’s lips were soft and his breath warm on her face.

They kissed softly, their mouths meeting time after time, and soon Tony was humming quietly at the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. He reached under the covers, carefully tracing her side and cupping the back of her thigh, slowly lifting it up and wrapping it around his waist.

He wanted to feel her closer and as the tips of his fingers lightly skimmed her skin, Y/N hoped that he would never retreat.

But like most things in life, the kissing had to end sooner or later, and when both of them found themselves struggling for air, their lips parted and Tony pressed his forehead to her own. Her eyes had fluttered closed, and when Tony looked down, he noticed the shadow that her lashes had cast over the tops of her cheeks.

The room was quiet for a while with the exception of the sound of their breathing and the crackling of the logs in the fire in the corner of the room. Tony shifted his weight to one arm, still hovering above her and when she opened her eyes, he tucked a stand of hair behind her ear.

She smiled at the gesture, but then Tony leaned down and kissed her again, and her smile grew wider.

“If you’re terrified of loving me, then we can be terrified together because holding something as precious as your heart is a thousand times more difficult than any fight I’ve ever fought,” he told her solemnly, and she watched him in awe, letting a quiet giggle escape her when he kissed the tip of her nose.

“I love you, too,” he added quietly, and when she smiled, he returned to his previous position and pulled her in closer. Her head fell to rest on his chest again and this time, when they closed their eyes and began to feel themselves drift off, there was nothing at the back of their minds trying to overshadow the complete contentment they both felt.

@arielsimaginess@wellthatsrandomkek@brittany1248@gabbievl@forestxpertise@aya-fay@yes—soldier@geekynation@smithaslan@all-of-the-little-infinites@sweetheartmyass@ishasal@jenma-simmons@interstellarhoodlum@hellkat2@bowtiesandapplepie@donttouchmeormypizza@somethingwitty-somethingsweet@kaijasimagines@thecityandcoffee@debbielovesbucky@marrsox@r3stl3ss-minds@sleeping-with-the-snakes@woahfairytail@marvelgirl2118@lipkitharry@unevenpages@radxxregs@avisgranger@cutsieunicorn@fvckingfandomsandshit@nerdygirlykittykat@broken-fairy-wingss @forever-1a @akanthaonarose @vanilllakitty@cupcaitlyn96 @psingh97 @gothamroques

Fall right into you.

I feel like I wasn’t able to fully do your request? I tried a couple of times trying to string words together so hopefully this one is a little bit better. Thank you so much for sending in your request and I really do hope I did alright because I am not satisfied with how this turned out! That aside, I do hope you enjoy reading this!


Originally posted by hardyness

You yawn as you quietly knock on Peter’s door and when no one answers, you take out the spare key Peter gave you and let yourself in. Taking note that May’s shoes aren’t here and she isn’t snoring away on the couch, this meant that May is working overtime tonight so you pad over to the sofa.

Waiting for Peter to come back is a habit you started when you found out about his alter-ego. You wanted to be the first one to know that he is alright, not too hurt and to make sure that Peter comes home to May and you in one piece. Initially, Peter had been against this idea of yours because he really didn’t want to keep you from your sleep but after a while, he settles with it and in fact, coming home to your face is something he looks forward to, most of the time.

You aren’t quite sure how long you just sat there – you must have been super tired – because the next thing you know, Peter jumps on top of you, trapping you against the sofa and him. He buries his head in to the junction between your neck and shoulder, humming appreciatively. “Peter!”

Peter looks up from your neck, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. When he pulls away, you give him a smile, combing your fingers through his hair. “You look comfortable.” He murmurs and you nod your head – now that Peter is here, you definitely do not feel as tensed or as worried as you initially had been. He wraps his arms around your waist.

“How was your day?” You ask him, rubbing your thumb across his cheek and Peter smiles before adjusting himself on top of you so that instead of crushing you under his weight, he is holding himself up with his elbows above you. You move slightly and Peter slides in beside you, letting you use his arm as your pillow as one of his arms is still wrap around your waist.

“I think we may need a bigger chair.” Peter comments instead and you chuckle before moving closer to him. “It was alright; fairly quiet night too.” He tells you and you grin as you bury your face further in to Peter’s neck. Peter continues to talk about everything he did from after school until just now – his voice is so soothing and the sound of his steady heart beat is slowly starting to lull you to sleep.

Peter looks down to find you asleep; one hand clutching his shirt, legs tangled with his. A soft, small smile appears on his face as he gazes at you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face so that he can get a better look at your face. Coming home to see you is always nice; he is very thankful too that May trust the both of you – the amount of times May has come home to the two of them sleeping on the sofa is uncountable.

Peter pulls you closer to his chest, nuzzling his face in to your hair. He loves holding you in his arms; loves the fact that you trust him enough to fall asleep with him and in his arms. “Sleepy girl.” He mutters, chuckling to himself – this habit of yours is really adorable. Even though you won’t admit this, Peter knows that you sleep the best whenever you are with him, which is one of the reasons why you, more often than not, stay up to wait for him. Smiling to himself, Peter watches you sleep, counting the freckles across your cheeks and mapping every single inch of your face.

This is probably the umpteenth time you have fallen asleep in his arms and Peter truly enjoys this; he enjoys having you in his arms as much as he is able to hold you in his arms. He reckons it would be better if the both of you sleep on the bed as it is much more comfortable but being the sweet boy that he is, Peter doesn’t want to disturb your sleep at all.

So instead, Peter runs his fingers through your hair, focusing on your steady heartbeat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on your even breaths and the softness of your hair, until gradually it begins to lull him too. The last thing Peter remembers thinking before he falls asleep is how lucky he is to have you fall in love with him and lucky to have you in his life.

Two Months

Request: friend zoning shawn to the point where he is begging to get out #request but rly u were too scared to let shawn in

a/n: HI!! i’ve been working on this one for quite a while and it’s finally done!! yay!!! thanks for being so patient with me everytime i pushed the upload date back lol but anyway, i hope you enjoy!! random side note - my family and i ate 5 pounds of potatoes at dinner tonight lol 

okay now enjoy reading and tell me what you think when you’re done!!

Your name: submit What is this?

- 8 months ago –

          Most people would think that sitting in a back room would be the most unentertaining thing in the world.  But when this back room happens to be filled with three of your closest, and backstage at the LA Staples center, a back room sounds more entertaining than any other room.

           “How long did he say the meet and greet lasted?”  Brian piped up as he threw a red skittle up into the air.  The skittle bounced off his nose and landed on the ground.

Keep reading