if he did have blue eyes

anonymous asked:

Saihara with a S/O who's randomly complimenting him out of the blue! Like.. He'd be drinking something and S/O would just be like 'You have really pretty eyes..' or something like that!

ADORABLE (doing asks while waiting for life to stop being bad.)

•At first it made him blush a very noticeable mix of purple and red.
•Often the compliments had NOTHING to do with what they were doing.
•Often it was about his intelligence, or his kindness or his looks.
•Well, his eyes. So attentive and strong.
•As it happens more frequently he adapts.
•He’ll still blush though.

earlier at the supermarket
  • me: *sees a tall, russian-looking man with blue eyes and blond hair*
  • brain: yurioniceyurioniceyurionicevikto-
  • me: brain. please. stop. you don't have to associate every russian you see with-
  • woman: "Vitya! [something in russian]"
  • i almost screamed
Tainted Love (part 1)

Summary: Soulmates are supposed to be a wonderful thing, that is until you find out who your soulmate is. You guessed it, Lance “The Fucker” Tucker.

Pairing: Lance x Reader

Warnings: probably swearing

A/N: Don’t hate me but I deleted ‘Long Way To Go’. I’m sosososososososososososososososo sorry BUT here’s this new Lance AU. I really hope you guys like it :) Also, I know I say this every time but if there are any mistakes, I shall fix it when I wake up (I really need to stop staying up late lol).


Growing up, you always wondered who your soulmate was and when you’d meet him. You wondered if he was brunette or blonde; a red head maybe? If he had blue eyes or brown eyes; maybe gray or hazel?

Was he tall or short? Did he have the most perfect smile ever? Was he nice?

So many questions ran through your head as a kid. Either way, you couldn’t wait until the day you got to meet your soulmate. Your parents always wondered when you‘d meet him. Your older sister already had, they’re married now. Your friend since college, Hope, had recently (finally) got together with her soulmate, Ben. Even your youngest sister had already met her soulmate. Now they were waiting on you and at age 28, you still held onto the little hope that you’d meet him.

It was a long 28 years of your life and your soulmate had put you through hell and back. From bruises and scrapes here and there to breaking your arm and leg.

And let’s not forget the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced because of him; that god forsaken tattoo just above your lady parts.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon. Everyone was off doing their own thing which left you at home by yourself. You were just watching some movie, relaxing on your couch when you felt a horrible sensation on your lower abdomen and it was getting worse by the second. It felt like someone was stabbing you, more like carving you and you wondered if your soulmate was alright.

Going into the bathroom, you pull down your sweatpants and remove your shirt, leaving you in only your bra and underwear. You hold onto the wall for support, the pain increasing as it got closer to your womanhood. You look into the mirror and see what seems to be a drawing?

Then it dawned on you; that motherfucker is getting a tattoo.

It was the worst 3 to 4 hours of your life.

The idiot tattooed fucking gold medal on him. Why the fuck would he get a tattoo of a gold medal? And somewhere so painful? Needless to say you hated getting undressed. Sex too. And forget about bikini’s.

God, how you wished you knew who your soulmate was so that you could properly kick his ass.

You tried contacting him a couple of times when you were 17. You wrote on your hand with pen, knowing it would also appear on his hand as well. You wrote a simple ‘hello, this is your soulmate.’ followed by a little smiley face. He responded with a ‘fuck off’.

You also knew that he was very sexually active. You loathed the mornings you’d wake up and find several hickeys on your neck. Oh, how you wanted to pummel him to the ground.

Even though you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you always found yourself caring a bit too much for your soulmate, despite all the shit he’s put you through.

“Get your cock sucking ass in the car, you’re coming with me.” Hope placed her hands on her hips as she glared at you.

“No thank you, I’m fine staying home.” you respond, leaning against the doorframe.

Hope groans. “Can you stop being an asshole for two seconds and come with me to the gym? The new team coordinator is coming by and you’re really fucking nice so you’ll make me look good.”

You let out a sigh. “Fine. But only because you’re shit on your own.”

Hope smiles and you quickly put on your shoes, slipping your phone into your back pocket. The two of you retreat back to her car and you slide into the backseat, being met with some teen.

He smirks at you. “Hey.”

You turn to Hope. “Who’s this asshole?”

“Oh that’s just Maggie’s fling for the week. ” she brushes it aside and you roll your eyes.

“I really like him.” Maggie turns to you with a sweet smile from the passenger seat.

“He’s got to go.” you say, looking at the guy.

“What?”

“Go, get out.” you nod your head but he doesn’t move. “Don’t make me get out of this car and drag you out.”

The teen’s eyes widen and he grabs his backpack before getting out of the car at which time, Hope starts driving.

“What the fuck was that for?” she glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

“She needs to be on her A game and that little shit would’ve distracted her.”

Hope pursed her lips but didn’t say anything more on the matter.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot.” she spoke, grabbing a cup from the cup holder. “I want that down the hatch before we get to the gym.”

You watch Maggie take the cup from her, noticing it held a greenish liquid and snatched it from her.

“Y/N, what the fuck.” Hope let out a frustrated sigh.

“What’s in here Hope?” you shake the cup around.

“Healthy shit.”

“Like what?”

“Like orange juice and bananas and.. Weed.” her voice got lower towards the end, hoping you wouldn’t hear her.

“Weed?! Are you fucking kidding me Hope? The new team coordinator is coming over and you want Maggie stoned?” you scoff.

“She needs to live a little.” Hope waves her hand at you.

You roll your eyes and roll down the window, throwing the cup.

“What’s wrong with you!” Hope nearly screeched.

“She’s not going to that gym stoned, Hope.”

Hope groans loudly. “Ugh, you’re no fun.”


The three of you walk into the gym upon Ben telling you that the new team coordinator was already there and once Hope sees him, she becomes tense.

The tall man rips his earphone out of his ear and turn around, a smirk playing at his lips. “Well, well, well. Hope Ann Greggory. You’re an hour and three minutes late.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lance Tucker?” she barely looked him in the eyes but it was clear that she was annoyed to see him.

Lance Tucker? Hope told you about Lance, mostly about how much of an asshole he was and how much she hated him. Lance was a gymnast as well but you didn’t care for gymnastics much so when Hope would rant about him or gymnastics, you wouldn’t pay attention. You didn’t know a thing about Lance Tucker, only that he was, as Hope says, an asshat.

“Team coordinator.” he responds, holding out what looked to be an I.D.

Hope scoffs. “They offered me that job. I said fuck no.”

Lance lets out a laugh. “That’s bullshit.”

“Your face is bullshit.”

“Something looks different about you. Oh,” he then chuckles. “I know, you got old.”

“Your limp dick disease must be affecting your eye vision.” she snapped but before their insults could go any further, Ben stopped it, asking what Maggie’s first set was to which Hope said bars, still glaring at Lance.

Lance on the other hand took this time to glance around the room before his eyes landed on you. “Oh hi, I’m Lance Tucker.” and suddenly he wasn’t the asshole from ten seconds ago.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” you respond. Lance stretches his hand out to you and you shake it, the both of you immediately pulling away when you feel a shock.

“Don’t fall for his nice guy image he’s putting on Y/N. The guys’ still a dick brain.” Hope rolled her eyes at Lance but he was too busy staring at the hand you had touched.

It was as if time had stopped and all Lance could do was look at you. Why had he felt a shock when the two of you shook hands? Did you feel it too? All too soon, Lance was snapped out of his trance.

“Asshole, you gonna watch Maggie or are you gonna keep staring at my friend with your hand in your pants?” Hope questioned, still slightly annoyed.

“Uh, yeah.” he cleared his throat, looking at you once more before turning to Maggie.


A/N: Just go with the flow, alright? I’m so excited for this one. I’ve been writing this for 3 hours, tell me what ya think!

Tags:

@your-puddin @heismyhunter @jas94kullar @buchananbarnestrash @live-in-the-now10 @jcb2k16 @plumqueenbucky @thefandomplace @chocolatereignz @blueberry-pens @professionally-crazed @idk-something-amazing-i-guess @almondbuttercup @janetgenea @buckysmetallicstump @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @rvb-and-marvel-shit @ouatalways @winterboobaer @thyotakukimkim @hattnco @millaraysuyai @themercurialmadhatter @miss-jessi29 @snakesgoethe @helloitsgrc @welcometothecasmofsar @aboxinthestars @feelthemusicfuckwhatheyresaying @fandommaniacx @hatterripper31 @coffeeismylife28 @bunchofandoms @bobabucky @under-dah-sea

happy birthday, even, isak x even.

they’re huddled together at the table, what’s left of even’s birthday cake sitting abandoned in front of them. he prods at it with a fork, making swirls in the baby blue icing - vilde had made it in the shape of a star and piped shine bright across the top. he’d loved it. 

“did you have fun?” isak asks, throwing an arm around even’s shoulder and pulling him in so close. even smiles, closing his eyes against the feeling of isak’s mouth at his temple, the warmth of his touch at even’s neck. 

“I did.”

”you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not.” he never is. he never just says anything to isak any more. he stopped pretending long ago. he stopped being a lot of things he wasn’t.

“it’s not that late, we can still go out if you want to.”

no.”

“okay.”

even drops the fork, turning to grab at isak instead. it had been a good birthday - one of the best - and he was happy to be able to sit and think on it. to remember all of his blessings. “sonja messaged me today,” he hears himself say, relieved when isak just smiles.

“that’s nice.”

“every year, for my birthday, she used to make me write down what I wanted on a piece of paper. like a wish.” even curls up into his chair a little more, playing at the collar of isak’s shirt. “then we’d turn it into a little boat, take it down to the water and watch it float away.’

“really? cool. what did you wish for? or can’t you tell me? in case it doesn’t come true?”

“well some of them did. I got a new guitar, and one of my drawings got published in a magazine - ”

“seriously?”

“and I met someone who changed me.”

“you mean me?” isak says, exaggerated, putting a hand to his chest. even can’t help the laughter that bubbles up, quick and sharp, from his belly. “you met me?”

“yes. you. man of my life.”

Keep reading

2

So I did an art trade with @ibuzooart! I was asked to draw Tom Riddle so I did (with some “tweaks” because I was bored), and she painted me my sweet Draco! You know how much I love that spoiled prat, guys!

Also, Tom is supposed to have dark eyes but I mean helloooo?? Light grey blue???

12x09 Coda

There are four people in the car, and none of them know what to say.

Other than necessary dialogue about switching drivers (Sam took over for Mary just shy of the halfway point when her eyes got heavy) or having to stop to use the bathroom (infrequently; they are practiced travellers, after all,) the entire seven-hour drive back to Kansas- back to the bunker- is silent.

There is relief, certainly: that the boys are free; that they are safe, for now; that a sacrifice did not prove necessary tonight. It’s a tainted relief though, at least for Dean- he knows he should feel glad, he should feel thankful, he should feel…. something… but he hears Castiel’s voice over and over in his mind, sees stormy blue eyes full of unspoken agony and anger, handsome features contorted in pain and bitterness and he can’t. “You’re welcome,” Dean hears, repeated on a loop, and he knows he let Cas down, and he wishes it didn’t hurt so damn much.

Dean feels changed. Hollow. He wonders if Sam feels the same, but can’t bring himself to ask. He knew a happy homecoming hadn’t exactly been in the cards - he hadn’t actually expected to make it home at all- but he hadn’t expected the reunion to taste quite so sour.

He’d been prepared to die. Again. He’d bargained for enough hours to get Sam out, and hopefully just long enough to see Cas one last time. Hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up about seeing his mother too, but she’d been there, as beautiful as ever, and he hadn’t realized how much he needed to see her too until he saw her standing in the clearing.

Dean and Sam had been kept in isolation for over six weeks, apart from the world, apart from each other, with nothing but their own inner demons to keep them company. Today, they’d mounted an escape. Dean thinks of the men he’d had to hurt to get them out of there, to keep Sammy safe, and tries to force down the wave of guilt that churns like nausea in his stomach. The fear. The stress. The adrenaline. The remorse. It all threatens to come up and he pushes it deep down.

He feels old, and tired, and he wishes he’d insisted on driving or sitting in the front when Sam offered to trade Mary, because Dean’s still in the backseat with Cas, and the proximity combined with the silence- well, it’s fucking with him but good.

They’re close but not cramped, and yet the distance between them feels completely insurmountable. Dean chances a glance, his eyes travelling down the stoic profile. Prominent nose; high cheekbones; full, pale lips. Cas’s hair looks immaculate and with a pang Dean realizes that his best friend is no longer the socially inept, messy-haired angel with the ill-fitting clothes and backwards tie, and somehow - Dean missed it. He was either too busy or self-absorbed to notice, and he wonders what else has changed.

Dean knows he should say something, anything, but he doesn’t. He can feel tension rolling off Cas in waves; he’s attuned to the angel in ways that he can’t even begin to explain. Cas likewise has always had an uncanny ability to sense when Dean is looking at him, and Dean is so accustomed to those blue eyes meeting his every single time that now, when he’s been staring for the better part of ten minutes, and Cas is still staring straight ahead, stiff and cold, Dean just knows. He knows that whatever this is, whatever he’s broken- it can’t be fixed by simple words. For the first time in a very long time, having his best friend next to him no longer feels like home.

When they finally pull into the bunker, exhausted, Sam and Mary sigh in relief. Dean shifts, anxious to stretch his legs, hoping to escape this oppressive silence and exchange it for one that doesn’t sit quite so heavily on his heart. Cas doesn’t move, and with his fingers wrapped around the door handle, Dean hesitates.

Sam draws back, peering in the backseat. “You guys coming?” he asks, confused.

Dean clears his throat, his eyes darting nervously to Cas once more before turning back to his brother. “Could you, uh, give us a minute?”

Sam’s brows knit together in concern but he nods, finally registering the state Cas is in, and he gives Dean a sympathetic look. “Yeah. Of course.” He pats the car awkwardly before turning away, catching up with a puzzled Mary who stands waiting at the garage door.

“Cas-” Dean begins gruffly. Sam and Mary head inside.

“Don’t.” Cas interrupts, his voice a barely audible growl.

Dean scowls, beginning to feel angry. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“You should go be with your family.” Cas says, his voice an indecipherable mix of sadness and resentment.

Dean blinks, frustrated. “How many times do I have to tell you, you’re family too!”

Castiel sucks in a violent breath and stiffens before slowly turning to face Dean, his eyes like steel. “Don’t say that,” he says harshly. The air feels charged, like an electric current runs through it, and Dean is reminded of the night he and Cas met. He remembers how sparks flew from the light swinging like a pendulum in the barn, how the hairs on his arms stood up on end as this otherworldly creature gazed upon him, haughty and more powerful than anything he’d ever seen. More beautiful than Dean could comprehend. Castiel had captivated him even then, and while this changed version of Castiel sitting beside him now is vastly different than the arrogant, dutiful soldier he was then, he still has the same effect on Dean.

“Why?” Dean says desperately, his voice too broken to even shape it into anything more than a rhetorical question. He doesn’t really expect an answer, but he says it anyway. “Why not? It’s true.”

Castiel moves to get out of the car and Dean reaches over to stop him. Cas pulls his hand away, recoiling, almost hissing at the contact. “I don’t deserve to be your family.” Cas grits out, each syllable clear and rough, stabbing through Dean’s heart like an angel-blade.

“How can you say that?” Dean whispers hoarsely, his green eyes bright with hurt.

“I couldn’t save you!” Cas explodes in rage.

Dean shakes his head, blinking back tears of frustration and grief. “You just did! You just did, Cas! I was supposed to die tonight, and I’m alive. Because of you.”

“No,” Cas counters vehemently, shaking his head. “Six weeks, Dean. I couldn’t find you, I couldn’t help you… I lost you and Sam… I lost Kelly… I couldn’t hunt, I couldn’t DO…ANYTHING.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean whispers, confused, but willing Cas to understand anyway.

Castiel laughs bitterly. “It is my fault. It’s all my fault. So don’t you dare call me family because I have never been anything but a disappointment to you.”

Dean stares in shock. “Is that… is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” Cas spits harshly. “And I know you’re going to tell me that I was stupid, that I was impulsive… That I killed the reaper without any thought to the consequences, but you know what, Dean? That’s just not true.”

Dean struggles to find the words to speak, to tell Castiel just how wrong he is, about all of it, about everything, but Cas shows no sign of stopping.

“I have thought about the consequences,” Cas continues, louder now, his voice rough with angelic fire. “I have tried to picture a world without you in it, and I can’t do it anymore, Dean. And you can’t ask me to. You are good, and kind, and pure, and you… you save people. You and Sam. You’re heroes. All I do is make things worse. If anyone should be sacrificed for the greater good, it’s me. If anyone is going to bear the consequences of MY choice to kill Billie, it’s ME. Not you. I will never let you suffer for my mistakes again, I promise you.”

“Cas-” Dean says, gritting his teeth.

“I don’t need you to lecture me, Dean. What’s done is done. I just want you to know that I regret nothing. You- you have no idea, what it’s like. How many times do I have to almost lose you? To accept your death? It’s too much. It’s too much, and I won’t do it any longer.” In one swift motion, Castiel steps out of the car, and Dean fumbles frantically with his door, cursing under his breath.

“Cas,” Dean says, a little louder. “You can’t-”

“I’ll leave!” Cas snaps, cutting him off. He slams the car door. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying.”

“Goddammit, Cas, will you stop putting words in my mouth and just shut up and listen to me?” Dean yells, pissed right off now. He’s half in and half out of the car, his jaw ticking with frustration, his neck and shoulders stiff with tension. He’s covered in dirt and sweat; every part of his body aches; he’s exhausted, but right now all he can see is red.

Finally Cas looks at him properly, and in so doing, seems to deflate. All the grace-spark is extinguished from his eyes, and he sags forward.  He simply looks like a man. A tired, defeated man, and it’s maybe this more than anything that breaks Dean’s heart.

Tell him the truth, a voice in the back of Dean’s head says.

Dean can feel the dull, red throb of annoyance and anger still thrumming in his veins and he tries to reel it in.

He needs to hear it. Tell him everything. Dean’s pulse accelerates. No, he can’t do that. Can he? His stomach does a little flip at the thought.

“Stay,” he says finally. It’s not enough, but it’s something.

“Why?” Cas asks. Not defensive, not defiant, just- empty. Hollow. Like Dean.

“Because you’re wrong, Cas. About all of it. You are family. We do need you. And whatever’s coming next, we’ll figure it out, just like we always do. I’m not- Christ. I’m not mad at you, okay?”

“You didn’t pray to me.” Cas whispers. “Not even once.”

Dean swallows the lump of guilt that rises up his throat. “No,” he acknowledges roughly. “I didn’t.”

“I hugged you,” Cas says, “And you barely returned it. You didn’t need me.”

“Cas,” Dean says softly, closing his eyes.

“You were going to die. You were going to leave me, and you weren’t even going to tell me. You weren’t even going to say goodbye.” Castiel’s eyes are swimming with unshed tears that he bats away furiously. Dean is both shocked and touched.

“I- God, Cas. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Will you- will you let me explain?”

Cas’s blue eyes settle on him, and he looks so damn sad, so vulnerable, and Dean can feel all the walls he’s built and sustained all these years by sheer force of will simply crumbling. It’s fucking terrifying, but this is Cas, and he’s clearly hurting, and Dean is hurting, and he’s not good with words like Sam is, so he simply opens his mouth and lets the words come tumbling out.

“I didn’t pray because you’re not an angel, Cas. Not to me.” Cas recoils as though Dean has slapped him, and Dean rushes to explain. “Not like that! Not like that! I mean, obviously you’re an angel. It’s just… Okay. The way Ketch and- and Mick and those douchebags look at you. Like you’re a tool. Like Sam and I are so fucking lucky to have a pet angel all to ourselves. It just… it pisses me off, Cas. You’re not that, okay? You matter. You’ve always mattered, and I know I’ve done a shitty job of showing it, you don’t have to tell me… So, no, Cas. I didn’t pray to you. I didn’t pray because I didn’t want you to be my get-out-of-jail-free card. I want you because of what we can give each other, not what you can give to me. Prayer is- it’s a one way street. I don’t want to talk ‘at’ you, or dictate what you should do anymore. I know I’ve done it in the past, and I’m sorry. Not anymore, okay? I wanted to talk to you- God, Cas, you have no idea how much I- I missed you- but I didn’t want to talk to you until you could talk back. Okay? Do you get me?”

Dean knows he’s done a poor job of explaining his convoluted reasonings but Cas seems to be tracking along with him; he hasn’t left yet, at least, or interrupted again to tell Dean off for being a dick.

“And you’re right,” Dean presses on, his heart pounding wildly, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. He feels like he might throw up from opening himself up like this, but he can’t allow Cas to keep believing all those lies when the truth is right here. “I barely returned your hug.” His voice breaks, and Cas looks devastated. “But not because… not because I didn’t want to, or whatever.”

“Then why?” Cas asks, lost.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, opting to close the car door. He takes a couple tentative steps around the car, slowly bridging the distance between them. He sighs. “I, uh, I didn’t know Mom would be there. I didn’t know you were able to bring her. And I didn’t know- I didn’t know I wanted her to be there until I saw her. So thank you, for that.”

Cas frowns and Dean forces himself to keep going, knowing he’s dodging again, just like he always does.

“I called you, Cas, alright?” Dean sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I had til midnight, and I spent my last few hours trying to get to you. I could have called Mom, or- or Garth, who knows? Maybe he had some people in the area. Or I could’ve just tried to get out of there with the time I had. But I needed to see you, one last time. You were the person I wanted with me when it… happened. But then you were actually there, and seeing you, touching you- it just hurt so fuckin’ much, Cas. To miss you for months like that and then have a goddamn frigging teaser of a reunion… It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fair… so yeah. I bailed on the hug, the second I could. Not because I didn’t need you. Because I needed you too much, and I couldn’t let you see it.”

Cas trembles, a myriad of emotions crossing his face. He looks unsure, and Dean steps in a little closer.

“I didn’t say goodbye,” Dean acknowledges, reaching out hesitantly to grasp Cas’s shoulder, needing to feel the reassurance of its solid weight, that Cas is tangible and real, and standing in front of Dean with bags under his eyes and tears clinging to his eyelashes. “I’ve lost you too, you know. I’ve watched you die right in front of me, several times. I didn’t say goodbye, because losing you is… it hurts too much to even imagine, Cas, and I just couldn’t do it one more time. And I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cas rasps, still wary, but calmer, now. He grabs Dean’s arm and holds on, grounding himself there.

They are a foot apart now, facing each other, and- shaking- Dean moves his hand from Cas’s shoulder to his face instead, cupping his jaw carefully. “Okay,” he repeats, nervous, his eyes scanning Cas’s face. He’s afraid of pushing too hard, asking too much… he doesn’t want to scare Cas off when he’s feeling vulnerable, doesn’t want to assume too much about the things Cas said up on the bridge all those few hours ago, even though Cas’s words had moved him, freed him… gave him hope he’d been denying himself all along.

Cas’s lips part and his breath quickens, but he’s still trembling like he’s afraid, his eyes darting around the room, to the car, to the door, anywhere but at Dean… Dean instinctively wants to pull back, assume he’s being rejected, but Cas is still clinging to his arm desperately, almost leaving a bruise, and while he hasn’t moved any closer, he hasn’t pulled away either. He’s just standing there, motionless, while Dean inches ever closer into his space.

“Cas,” Dean whispers when his mouth is only a couple inches from the angel’s, his heart fluttering nervously in his chest.

“Yes?” Cas croaks, and he sounds just as scared.

“I- I’m gonna kiss you now. If that’s okay.”

Castiel’s eyes snap to Dean’s, and he nods- once, twice, frantically, and then Dean pulls him in close and joins their lips together in a searing kiss.

It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, and Dean is drunk with it, and he can’t believe he waited so long to do this. “I love you,” Dean gasps, apology and promise in one. He kisses Cas again, and again. “I love you. We’ll figure it out.”

Castiel blinks as his tears fall freely, but he wraps his arms around Dean and kisses back fiercely, his profound joy mixed with equal parts of sadness. Dean knows it will take them some time to navigate this- it’s new territory for them both- but at this moment his heart is full.

He kisses Cas until the hurt is- well, not forgotten, but dulled.

“We’ll figure it out,” Cas repeats softly against Dean’s cheek.

It isn’t an “I love you, too,” but the look on Cas’s face says enough.

Voltron Fic Rec List

Klance

you have received entirely, entirely by loveghost

Shiro blinks at him. Lance doesn’t blame him; he’s horrified at himself too. What karmic sins did he commit in past lives to bring this upon himself? To now, in the midst of a training session of all times, blurt: “Hey, guys? You ever think about soulmates and shit?”

Lightning in a Bottle by amillionsmiles

“Well, buddy, beach volleyball isn’t a fight,” he says, getting close enough so that he can clearly see the navy blue of Keith’s eyes, their noses almost brushing. “It’s a dialogue.”

Keith thrusts the ball back at Lance’s chest, eyes flashing.

“Oh, yeah? You’d better start talking, then.”

(or: it’s good to be back at Veradera Beach. It’s good to be back home.)

Kiss Me, You Idiot by @glowdroid

It happens at 2 am, like all regrettable-but-painfully-sincere things do, even in Altean time.

He’s Shallow, Is What I Mean by @lancecmcclain

This is actually just Keith being gay and Pidge being aro as hell. Rated G for Gay. 

bench press me by eggboi

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

Color Me Intrigued by dreamcp

Lance draws. Specifically, Lance draws Keith. A lot.

twelve feet deep by starspecters

Keith doesn’t respond, but he does smile - which is honestly better, in Lance’s opinion - and Lance starts to worry that maybe he should have applied more sunblock when the tips of his ears grow hot.

never been kissed by kairiolette

“You give off the obnoxious popular vibe. The mullet, and the rap sheet, and—the fingerless gloves,” Lance replies, and barrels on before Keith can take it the wrong way. “I’m so handsome, my name’s Keith and I’m a pilot.”

“That sounds more like a compliment than an insult,” Keith says slowly, a disdainful quirk to his eyebrows that only spurs Lance on. He tilts his head a bit, his bangs shadowing his face, like he’s assessing a particularly impossible physics problem. “And I don’t like that voice you’re using.”

Sheith

according to protocol by amillionsmiles

“PDA in uniform can result in a demerit of fifty to a hundred points,” Shiro murmurs.

“Good thing we’re not in public, then,” Keith mutters hoarsely.

Part 1 of the this corner of the universe series

keep up with you by amillionsmiles

“Clay thinks you have an eight-pack.”

Shiro’s eyebrow jumps. “Does he, now?”

“I told him I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it,” continues Keith, eyes dancing with a challenge.

Part 2 of the this corner of the universe series

Victorious by themorninglark

“When you come back - ” says Keith, again, and then he can’t finish the sentence for the enormity of it, so he stops short. Leaves it hanging like a promise, waiting to be fulfilled, and settles for reaching out to rest his hand on Shiro’s shoulder instead. Lets the contact linger for as long as he can, etched like life lines and heart lines into his palm.

Shiro nods. He doesn’t break promises.

Neither does Keith.

For the Damaged by commodorecliche

You’ve held your head up
You’ve fought the fight
You bear the scars
You’ve done your time
Listen to me
You’ve been lonely, too long

Dork | Peter Parker/Spiderman x reader

“Write a fic based on a gif” Challenge #1

Originally posted by castlewyvern

“Peter.”

“…”

“Peter!”

“Yes?”

“What…What in the world are you doing?”

Peter never paused in his antics, twirling around in the same spot, his eyes trained with high focus on the floor.

“Shh. I have to concentrate.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker you did not just tell me to shh.”

Peter groaned dramatically, and didn’t need to see you to know that you had your arms crossed, a hip jutted out as you tapped your fingers against your left bicep. 

“I’m trying to see…” He started, twisting faster and faster until you had a hard time keeping track of the red and blue blur in front of you. “…Just how much my body can take without emesis while undergoing massive spouts of vertigo due to the DNA change.”

A pause.

“…What?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m seeing how my super spidey powers handle dizziness.”

“Well why didn’t you say that in the first place?” You said, mumbling under your breath about arrogant know it all admittedly hot spider mutants.

“I did,” He replied simply. You were about to go over and see how much his ‘spidey powers’ could handle a punch to his stomach but his voice interrupted you again.

“And…stop!”

The blur came to a sudden stop. Peter blinked, once. Twice.

Then abruptly doubled over.

“Doesn’t work, doesn’t work!” He groaned, eyes fluttering as he woozily stumbled and almost slammed himself into a wall. 

“Well what did you expect?” 

A chair crashed to the floor.

You shook your head and walked over, just in time for the brunette to slump forward, right onto your shoulder. You grunted slightly, trying to shift his weight, his soft curls brushing your ear.

“Peter,” You huffed in irritation. Peter made a noise, kissing right below your ear as a mumbled apology was pressed into your skin.

Your lip unintentionally twitched upwards even as you sighed.

“You’re lucky I love you, you dork.”


[Masterlist]

2

Gif source:  Jefferson

Imagine once Jefferson remembers he was the Mad Hatter, he seeks you out because you were once Alice, but you don’t remember Wonderland or him and he’s crushed because he’s in love with you.

——— Request for anon ———

“Alice,” you hear someone call, but continue on your path as they hadn’t called your name. The repetition of it comes louder, more hasty, and with an urgent edge to the otherwise normal day in Storybrooke, “Alice!” Even still, you don’t stray from your routine until he grabs you by the hand, pulling you from your stride to come face-to-face with unfamiliar blue eyes, “Alice, didn’t you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” was he mad, stopping you so forcefully? Pulling yourself gently from the man’s grip, you find yourself unable to keep yourself from thinking that he did happen to look familiar. You must have seen him around town sometime, you decide as you explain, “My name is (Y/N), not Alice.”

He looks much more devastated than you’d expected, a shadow falling over his face as he seems to realize something you don’t. The man’s lips part, and for a moment you suspect he’s about to insist on something, but he thinks the better of it the more he studies your completely confused features. You were sure you’d met him somewhere before. Possibly Granny’s Diner?

Before you can ask for his name, he apologizes, “My mistake.”

He’s walking away as you remember his name is Jefferson.

“I am Tarquin. I am summer; I am warmth; I am sea and sky and planted field.I became every smile he’d given me, became the crystalline blue of his eyes, the brown of his skin. I felt my own skin shift, felt my bones stretch and change. Until I was him, and it was a set of male hands I now possessed, now pushed against the door. Until the essence of me became what I had tasted in that inner, mental shield of his- sea and sun and brine. I did not give myself a moment to think of what power I might have just used.” -pg. 349 ACOMAF

Just take a moment to think of how much chaos Feyre can bring to the Spring Court using this part of her powers. Like holy shit, she can shift into anyone she wants by just getting a taste of their mental shields. There are endless possibilities here people!!! Rhysand has the perfect spy in the Spring Court. Their highlady can cause so much shit and no one would suspect her because she’d be able to do it all the while by taking on someone else’s skin. 

  • [In which Phichit tries to find Yuuri a date so he gets a list from him of what he’s looking for]
  • Yuuri: Okay. So, he has to have short gray hair with bangs on his side, blue eyes, and his height should be around 180 centimeters.
  • Phichit: Alright, I’ll see what I can...... Wait, wait, wait- Did you just describe your coach? *grins* You just described your coach, didn't you??
  • Yuuri: This is one of the things I love about you.
To Crown a Queen

He had only seen her wear it a handful of times. The times when she needed to remind the fae around her that she was the wife and the mate of the High Lord, not a consort. His father had other crowns and diadems made, but this was her favorite. When she wore it, it did not matter that she was a lowborn lesser faerie, when she wore this crown she was a queen.

He fiddled with the diadem. It was so tiny compared to his crowns. This was the only crown of hers that did not have a matching mate. It was just hers. The gold specks found in the deep blue lapis luzuli, reminded him of the golden specs of her hazel eyes.

He always kept the diadem with him, to remind him that she would always be with him. Always. He hated to admit that this diadem had gotten him through the last forty years, it was this diadem that pulled him through after their faces started to blur and their laughter faded.

Having her wear this would be one hell of a statement. He summoned Nuala and Cerridwen. Giving full instructions on how she needed to be painted and dressed. If they were surprised, they did not show it. When he handed the Nuala the diadem, she couldn’t hide the shock even in her wraith form. “Does she know?” He shook his head. He needed her to hate him, if that bond snapped in place for either of them, they would both be dead.

Tonight he would crown her as a queen, like his mother, and purposefully forwent his crown for the midsummer ball. Hoping those old enough to remember, would notice the similarities between Feyre and his mother. Hoping those smart enough would see her as a beacon of hope, their only chance for salvation.


Special thanks to @feysand17 for the idea and permission to write this little drabble.

Wicked Games | Hoseok (M)

Originally posted by asdfghobi

Summary: Hoseok can’t help himself on your date when you just look so good.

Word Count: 3,968

Genre: Daddy kink smut

A/N: Idk what this is but here you go @touchmybangtan (be kind pls i’ve never written daddy kinks before)

Keep reading

3

Requested by Anon

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Reader
Word count: 250
Warnings: Aroused Liam, lol.


”Is that mine?” a finger tap on your shoulder made you turn your head towards the source of the familiar voice, smiling once you saw who it was.

”Yes, all my shirts were in the laundry, and yours are so cozy.” you said sweetly as you took the collar towards your nose and cuddled yourself into the well scented fabric.

Keep reading

After BBTBC

Marco lays in his bed with a wide smile plastered across his face. He finally did it, years of dreaming fantasizing and planning have finally come to fruition. And as a bonus he even got his first kiss that wasn’t his mom swooning over his ‘baby cheeks’.

Just before drifting off to sleep he heard a knock coming from his bedroom door. “Come in, its open,” he yawned. As the door slowly opened there was Star with red puffy eyes a runny nose and her rosey hearts looked a grayish blue in the dim moonlight. Marco sat up in worry. “Star? Are you okay? You look-” just before he could finish star sat down next to him and looked at the floor. “Uh.. I..” Marco reached for her, shivering at how stiff and rigid her back felt.

“Marco…” Star said, her voice harsh and strained. “Why am I such a mess up…?” her voice wavered.

“Star, you’re not a mess up. Sometimes bad things happen.” Marco got from under his comforter and sat on the edge if the bed with her. He put his hand on her shoulder again unsettled by how lifeless his usually exuberant friend felt. “I had Ludo right there… I was going to send him back to the void, but I couldn’t control my wand,” she sniffed fighting back tears. “And now he has everything Marco. How can you mess up any worse than that?!” She looked Marco in the eyes. He was taken aback at how strained they looked.

“Star, listen. Here on Earth, we have a saying. ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger’. Yeah he has the book and Glossaryk, but you still have your wand. That’s good right?”

“Heh… I guess it could have been worse…” Star forced a smile.

“I mean look at me. I’m Marco! I mess up monumentally and even though it is crushing, like seriously soul crushing, I still get up and take whatever the next day has to throw at me.” Star smiled and even giggled some remembering all the times Marco embarrassed himself. “We’ll get through this,” Marco said with a smile. Star wanted to look away to spare her the pain but she couldn’t help it.

“Thank you Marco…” Star sighed in relief. Marco pulled her into a hug, one she desperately needed, and one that she never wanted to end.

“Now go get some sleep Star. You really need it.” Star got up and walked out of the door. Marco layed back down, his mind riddled with concern. He had never seen Star so broken before, and that made him want to help her even more. Just as he threw the covers back over himself another knock was heard at his wide open door. Star stood in the doorway playing with her hair nervously.

“I know this is something different but… C-can I sleep in here tonight. I don’t want to sleep alone…” she sounded like a child begging their parents so they can escape the monster in the closet. Normally Marco likes his personal sleeping space but after tonight he knew he couldn’t afford to be selfish.

“Sure Star,” he yawned again. A bright smile beamed across Stars face as she hopped in bed with her best friend.

“Star… what are you doing?” Marco asked with a twinge of sass.

“I just wanna cuddle…” Star pouted.

“CUDDLE?!” Marco shouted with several emotions. Star continued to pout in her special adorable as all of everything kind of way. “Mmmm, oh alright,” Marco grumbled. “Just be careful, I know you’re a wild sleeper.” Star yawned and snuggled up on him.

“Thank you Marco,” she yawned before putting her nightshade down over her eyes. While she dozed off to sleep two things bounced around in his mind: she’s very warm; there is a girl in his bed sleeping right next to where he was going to be sleeping. “I’m gonna be up for a while…” he muttered to himself only to slip away into his dreams with his arms wrapped around star. All the while a saturated red light shone through the window.

*********************************************
Literally came up with this as I went along. Liek barely an hour 40 minute tops speed write

Worse Than Nicotine

Summary: A familiar face shows up at the gym you coach at, all you want is for him to leave. Or is it?

Characters: Lance Tucker x Reader

Warnings: language, Lance Tucker, sex talk, kissing, lead up to smut, un-beta’d

Song Insp.

Feedback is loved!

Originally posted by bucky-luvs-plums

You cursed to yourself as you dropped your paperwork on the floor, bending down to pick it up before hearing an all too familiar voice from the door behind you.

“Nice view, Y/LN.”

You stood up and turned round, face to face with those bright blue eyes and the damn smug look across Lance Tucker’s face.

Keep reading

I'd Read to You

“I miss magic.”

Baz almost misses it, a soft whisper, barely audible over the smattering of rain against the windowpane. His eyes are drawn to Simon, who’s bundled in a wine colored throw and looking particularly glum. Baz can’t help but think about how much older he looks. It’s only been a few months since Christmas, but those blue eyes have aged so much, surrounded by creases of worry.

Baz’s lips press into a hard, thin line. He doesn’t know how to respond. Offer to spell his shoes tied? His scones warm? His tea brewed?

“Not in the old sense,” Simon, as if reading Baz’s thoughts, tries to explain. “Just the feeling of wonder, of something different.”

“Have you ever read Harry Potter?” Baz asks, arching an eyebrow. His fingers sift through the blankets piled onto the couch until they find Simon’s hand.

“I’m not much of a reader.”

“You’re in luck.” Baz smiles, and something softens in Simon’s face. He looks closer to that boy before the White Chapel. “Your boyfriend happens to be a bit of a reader.”

Baz hops to his feet and disappears into the bedroom, returning moments later with a book read to worn, soft edges. “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, where it all begins.” His fingertips run over the cover, over the fading words.

“You’re going to read to me?”

“Yes.” Baz slowly leafs through a few pages. “I’m going to read to you.”

Simon smiles. “Okay.”

Baz draws Simon to his side, and begins to read. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…’

What if

Okay
So I read @skaylanphear’s Serendipitous Fate ch 22
And I couldn’t help but think how the story would have gone if (spoiler) chat DID die

Chat fell to the ground
A pool of blood forming around him
She couldn’t do anything
She couldn’t move, only watch helplessly
Tears leaked from her eyes

Blue needed down next to him
“No.. no NO PLEASE NO!” he cried
Queen bee stood at a distance, watching for a second before flying away , holding a ring
It wasn’t the miraculous, it was the ring master fu gave him

“H-hes gone Gabriel” said Sabine, voice cracking
“NO! HE CANT BE! THERE HAS TO BE A WAY!”
“But Ga..”
“He was m-my baby, h-he” Gabriel choked out, voice barely above a whisper

Marinette only looked on, into chat’s eyes, once playful, now glassy & lifeless
She felt hollow
Like she was missing half of herself
She felt as if the dagger had pierced her
She felt the life leave his body
Sh-she felt…

Her sob broke the silence
Alya sat next to her
“Mari-”
She couldn’t hold it now
She cried
Hugging her friend close
She cried

——–

It wasn’t long before Ladybug also died
Their bond was so strong that when he died, she died with him

Sabine was now furious
She was determined to avenge her daughter and her boyfriend

She finally had the courage to wear the Ladybug miraculous again

Those bastards were going to die
And she would make sure of it

—–

The news spread like wildfire
The city grieved their fallen heroes
The mayor got a memorial for the two
A statue
They had a formal ceremony
The whole city attended

The reporters , although grieving
Were curious about who the people wearing the Ladybug and chat Noir miraculous were


The new spotted lady stared into the cameras before saying in a voice layered with rage
“Hawkmoth, if your watching this I will like to tell you to hide because I get my hands on you , you will be sorry..
I WILL avenge them”

Those were the last things they said before the whole group
Turtle, fox, the mysterious blue and the new Ladybug took to the sky
Out of sight

Feysand family

So I see, personally, Feyre and Rhysand having a daughter bc I dunno it just fits them, but what if she wasn’t first. I see them having twin boys first; they look just like their dad but one has blue and one has purple eyes, being just the cutest little trouble makers. Rhysand would cry when they’re born bc not only did feyre give him a son, she gave him TWO and he’s just a crying teddy bear bc he has a family. Then when they boys are like 10 (bc let’s be real they’d be a handful) Feyre and Rhysand having a daughter and their boys being super over protective over her. She would have her dad’s eyes and light hair and be the cutest kid ever always being dotted on by her parents or brothers or other court members and like 6 years later having another son also with dark hair and light eyes.

bpd lance tho

  • splitting on keith (considering him a rival even tho they never even talked, apparently, and the way he bounces back and forth between treating keith nicely or mocking him)
  • this may be Reaching but dramatic mood shifts (when he went from happy to depressed at the party)
  • impulsive (i know keith is impulsive too and thats a part of his character/lion but like. remember when lance lost the blue lion? remember when lance initiated keith and him crashing into the ground when nose diving their lions? remember when lance ran towards a guarded military base with no plan? remember when lance snuck out of his dorm just cuz? remember when lance did p much anything?)
  • identity rooted in how others percieve him (”maybe i dont have a thing”)
  • related: needing Validation + thinking the others dont like him or think he’s annoying/doesnt contribute
  • also the Jealousy (when shiro took keith w/him instead of lance, whenever anyone goes off alone with allura, when lance thought keith was eyeing blue lion)
  • this one is prolly Def reaching but shiro “that guy’s my hero” being his fp

im sure i can think of more but this im Tired and this is what i got for now