married fandoms

a-dash-of-salt  asked:

For the fuck/marry/kill, but with fandom tropes: Tamora Pierce Tortall verse. Daine, Alanna, Kel.

Fake dating: Daine is great to fakeout makeout with, but I don’t have to share our bed with 50 small animals

Slow-burn:  I fell for Kel’s competence years ago, and little suspect that she is also pining for me.

Enemies-to-lovers: In a way, Alanna’s commitment to a cause opposite mine is its own character recommendation

Poseidon took a deep breathe as he transformed. He’d been doing this for 3 years in secret. He fixed his tie then knocked at the front door of the apartment. A woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes opened the door. She smiled at Poseidon.
“Happy third anniversary, Sally.”
Sally embraced him, “Happy third anniversary, Paul.”

For @calliatra for @fandomtrumpshate 

Happy Valentine’s Day, I bear headcanons. Spock and Kirk, after retirement. They have an interview together because they’re famous starship captains, but Spock prefers to be known as the First Officer. They’re both past caring about decorum, so they show up dressed in civilian clothes. Kirk’s dug out his old green shirt and a jacket with a vintage NASA pin. Spock is bundled up. They’ve got a ton of in-jokes; the interviewer is bemused but entirely delighted over how affectionate they are. The vulcans are no longer scandalized—“It’s that science genius with his human again.” 

lovelytitania  asked:

Yuuri and Victor got too drunk in Sochi and decided they really hit it off, so they got married. Right there. Victor cries because his new son vicchan passed away before he even met him...

Victor Nikiforov tries to make it a point in life to not have any regrets.

So marrying Katsuki Yuuri is definitely not going to be one, if he can help it.

“Victor,” the man giggles now, poking his cheek. “Your turn.”

He’s so, so beautiful. A drizzle of champagne drying on his chin, that god-awful tie wrapped around his hair. His shirt wrinkled, half of its buttons gone. His trousers, entirely disappeared.

(Victor likes that. He likes that he’s marrying a man who’s not wearing any pants. He’s so trendy. Always doing things no one’s done before, surely. He can’t wait to tell Yakov, already eagerly anticipating the strangled sigh-groan-combination that’s become sweet music to Victor’s ears.)

“Your vows, Vic-Victor,” Yuuri prompts him, his laughing mouth relaxing into a small smile on his perfect, perfect face.

Victor blinks. “Right.”

He glances at the minister, who is smiling very politely at them. He’s a bit red-faced from having a wad of rubles thrown at him to “marry us right now, пожалуйста, right now, right here, onegai.“ The man had pointed them towards some preliminary paperwork, asking them several times, “Listen, you have to sign here but are you absolutely sure—”

The looks that they gave him shut him up right away.

“I’m marrying this man,” Yuuri had announced. “So hard. I’m marrying him so, so hard, and then afterwards…” He hiccupped. “Afterwards, I get to take him back to the hotel and-and…”

Yuuri went on to describe in full detail—or in as full a detail as a man pumped full of two bottles of champagne can go—several lovely, intimate, exhaustive courses of action that he also swore he would do so hard. It was perfect (everything he does is so perfect), the minister said he appreciated it, and Victor found himself nodding along tearfully and crashing hard, the impact greater than any fall he ever made on the ice but softer than the thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton comforter he falls into every night that he’s back home in St. Petersburg.

Which reminds him.

“St. Petersburg, Yuuri,” he says excitedly, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him close. “Can’t wait to take you home, show you around, you’ll get to see Makkachin and—you have a dog, right? You’ll bring your dog, and we’ll…”

Yuuri’s eyes fill with tears. “Vicchan is dead.”

“Vicchan? Oh, that’s so cute, that’s like my name, maybe we can  make Makkachin’s middle name Yura, then, except—” Victor stops. “Did you say dead?”

Yuuri nods, clutching fistfuls of Victor’s shirt, tears streaming steadily down his face now. “He… there was…”

Perhaps the only regret he’ll have of tonight, then, is learning the news that he’ll never get to see his son and namesake, but he includes in his vows several animals that they’ll raise together, along with the names of four children that he’d decided on since thirty-eight minutes ago. Yuuri sloppily wipes his face with his wrist, pushing his glasses up adorably before adjusting them back on his perfect, perfect nose and saying with a cracked voice and a perfect, perfect smile—

“I do.”

*Pidge manages to get an Earth wifi signal*

Lance: oh man I haven’t checked tumblr in sooo long!

Lance: *scrolling through and suddenly stops*

Lance: HUNK!!!

Hunk:*runs in and sees Lance crying* What’s wrong! What happened!

Lance: Honestruck’s not dead!

Hunk: OH. MY. GOD!

Lance: Where the yell are we gonna find grey body paint in space!