She’s a reallydamn cutenerd who has a stupid dumb beautifulface and big pretty, deep eyes and even though she’s making a stupidly kickass film for school, still takes time, like an adorableidiot, to draw a lot of dumb-ass way too precious art of us for some reason. But despite all that, I’m still enjoyingtalking to her every day. So I guess all in all she’s not too bad! :)
look, Carrie Fisher did many good and important things, but she also very much did get some™ from Hot Young Harrison Ford AND slap Oscar Isaac’s beautiful stupid face no fewer than twenty-seven times and i think that’s beautiful
welp. i don’t really know how this happened, but it just kinda did. WC: 1510
klance, mild klangst, confessions, first kiss
Lance hums. “Really? You think?”
The alien giggles, a small, tinkling laugh that makes Keith’s fists ball at his sides. He works his jaw, fixing his gaze on the beautiful red, blue, green, yellow, and black banners hanging from the ceiling.
The planet, Xylo, had been overrun with Galra, it’s inhabitants, the Xylans, being treated as slaves, working to harvest the precious gems in near the core of the planet. Many had died in the work, the heat, radiation, and brutal conditions too much, but those that lived fought side by side with Voltron, with a valor unmatched by any other planet they’ve ever encountered.
It had been a sight Keith is unlikely to ever forget. He remembers this planet’s queen, Kani, charging an entire squadron of Galran sentries, ripping a blaster out of one of their hands and taking down each and every one before Voltron even had time to turn to offer her any sort of assistance.
Another tinkling giggle. Keith’s eye twitches, feels his nostrils flare. He needs to leave before he ruins a happy alliance before it even starts.
Keith grabs a drink off of the tray of a waiter, downing it one go, placing it back on the tray, and making his way for the door.
He pushes through the crowd. Everyone is gathered around the main floor, one traditionally used for ballroom dances, but all music had been destroyed by the galra. All the Xylans are still in their makeshift armor, and the Paladins still in their own colored suits.
As he pushes through them, a couple pieces of their armor falls off, but no one seems to care. A hand places itself on his shoulder, he pauses, sees a large hand with Black Paladin armor, and shrugs it off as he resumes. There’s a sigh, but no footsteps follow him.
He trudges his way out the door and through the blue-brown dirt towards the Castle.
Fuck Lance. Fuck Lance and all his flirts. Fuck him and his crass carelessness. Fuck him and his stupid, beautiful face. Fuck him and his dazzling smile. Fuck him and his kind, caring heart. Fuck him and his ability to make anyone laugh. Fuck. Him.
He knows he has a crush on Lance. Knows he wants to cuddle him, kiss him, hold hands with him, boop his nose, peck his cheek, massage his legs. He knows this.
But Lance doesn’t. Lance and his thick skull paired with Keith’s inability to do jack shit about his feelings means that that’s all he’ll know. He’ll never know how much Keith wants him. He’ll never know about how he dreams of Lance, hoping to wake up to his bubbly face and low, tired voice. He’ll never know that Keith is so far in over his head that he did a full on backflip.
Finding himself somehow at the door of his room, he presses the control panel, clicking to slide it open.
God, he just wishes he could say something. At least if Lance said no, he’d be caring enough to not just flirt with every being in existence right in front of Keith. Well, that or he’d very purposefully do just that, but Keith doesn’t really think he would.
Keith flops onto his bed, armor still on. It’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care. He focuses on the armor digging into his back and thighs, trying to keep his mind off of Lance.
He takes a deep breath, feeling the twinges of anger leaving his body, only to be replaced by a deep-set ache. A loneliness yet to be filled. A hole so open in his heart, one that he knows one person could fill perfectly, and yet it won’t ever happen.
It sends a chill throughout his body as it weighs it down. As the knowledge that the one man he wants, the one man he knows he could truly love, has less than no interest in him.
He pushes his head further back into the pillow and lets out a huff.
Keith raises his head slightly, but doesn’t say anything. If he’s quiet, they’ll go away.
“Go away, Lance,” says Keith, frustration tinging his voice.
He can almost hear the hesitation at the door.
“I’ll talk through the door if I have to,” says Lance. It’s meant to sound like a threat, but there’s an air of… helplessness in his voice. And it’s just that that makes Keith get up, walking over to the door and open it for Lance.
Keith doesn’t say anything to him, just turns and flops back down on the bed, leg hanging off the side.
Lance grabs it under his knee, lifting it up as he sits down before placing it back down, on top of his.
Keith pretends like he can’t feel the sheer warmth coming from Lance’s thigh and pretends that merely being able to rest his leg over Lance’s isn’t make his face slowly become hotter and hotter.
He doesn’t dare look at Lance, but he can feel a slight movement, probably him moving his arms or shaking his other leg or something.
There’s a long, awkward silence, neither of them willing to speak, but both waiting for the other to start.
Eventually Keith gives in.
“What d -” starts Keith.
“I’m sorry,” says Lance.
Keith furrows his brows, but doesn’t say anything. Lance takes the hint.
“I didn’t… She was just…” Lance sighs. Keith feels his elbow through the armor on his calf. He raises his head slightly to see him, his head is in his hands, one elbow on his knee, other on Keith’s calf.
“I like you, okay? I thought that if I… If I flirted with people in front of you, you’d get jealous and you’d come running, and I dunno. I know that that’s dumb, everything I do is dumb, but I just wanted you to like me and more than just a friend and I just… I dunno,” Lance trails off at the end, fingers slitting open, letting one eye peek over at Keith.
But Keith doesn’t hear the rest. He doesn’t hear anything after okay? Even if he wanted to, his pulse spiked, pounding in his ears. His breathing quickened, every inhale and exhale echoed five times over in his head.
He bolts straight up, but his leg over Lance’s makes him lose his balance. Without hesitation, hands - Lance’s hands - land on his hip and shoulder, stopping him from falling back over. They burn him where they rest, for him to remember for the rest of his days.
Not even thinking, Keith surges forward, but he misses. He kisses the corner of Lance’s mouth, feeling it tug into a shy smile under him. Lance pulls away, but his hand on Keith’s shoulder slides up to the back of Keith’s neck.
Keith blinks at him, heart beating up into his throat as Lance’s shy smile disappears. As the hand on the back of his neck slowly pulls him in. As lips press a nervous, tentative kiss onto his own. Keith tries to kiss him back, add more - more flare to it, but only succeeds in colliding his nose with Lance’s.
He feels his face flush even more as Lance chuckles as they pull back. “It’s okay,” he whispers to Keith. “We can work on it.”
Keith ducks his head, a hand coming up over his eyes. Lance chuckles again, low and soothing, as he places a hand on Keith’s wrist, gently tugging it from his face. Keith lets him.
Bringing it up to his lips, Lance presses a soft, fluttery kiss to the inside of his wrist. Then in a circle around his palm. Then to the pads of each and every one of his fingers.
His eyes flick up to Keith, who wants to look away, whose every instinct is telling him to look away, but just can’t. Lance leans forward, tilting his head too much to be coming in for a kiss. No, instead, Lance places a peck to Keith’s cheek, nuzzling his nose into it before sitting back down.
They just stare at each other, happy with the silence in between them, happy to sit there and take in every single detail of the others’ face.
Keith had always known that Lance’s eyes were a blue, but he never noticed the slight green tint they had to them, or the fleck of brown in the top left of his right one. He’d never seen the smattering of barely-there freckles dotting his nose and cheekbones, or the one noticeable freckle hidden in the hairs of his right eyebrow. He’d never realized just how long his eyelashes were, nor how his deep brown hair framed his face so gently it seemed like it was almost too afraid to be around such beauty.
Keith’s heart flutters in his chest. He can’t believe this is real. He may not know exactly what they are yet, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Lance likes him. Lance really, truly likes him.
‘I swear to God, James. One day I’m gonna be on the news for your murder’ Bucky had sat at your seat at the breakfast table again, after you had told him again and again that it was your seat.
‘Ohh harsh words from the short ass.’ You rolled your eyes at his attempt to hurt your feelings. ‘And don’t call me that’
‘What? James? Oh, James’ you continued saying his real name in different voice, mocking him. He retaliated by throwing daggers at you with his eyes.
‘I will be on the news for both your murders if you don’t stop’ Steve, who was reading a newspaper and had just finished his bowl of cereal, murmured at you. Loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough for you to listen.
Summary:You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.
Word count: 1805
Warnings:Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….
A/N: I hope you like this chapter, for some reason I enjoy it a lot though it’s not much. I have a three day weekend coming up so hopefully I can continue working on my fics. Thanks for your patience and I LOVE the feedback :]
Romanov was many things: ace assassin, hotshot hacker, super spy. Pleasant in the morning? No.
Not one of her virtues. You might as well have poked a sleeping bear
with a pointy stick; their reactions were generally the same. Though the bear was more likely to let you
live, come to think of it. But desperate
times called for desperate measures.
head cradled her mug as she shuffled back towards the bed with eyes half
open. You took that as an invitation,
though it probably wouldn’t work on vampires, you’d have to remember that
should the time come. You kicked the
door shut and plopped onto the bed where a half-naked Clint was slowly entering
the world of consciousness. You signed
“good morning” to him once his confused expression grazed from Natasha and back
to you. He grinned puckishly before
speaking aloud, “Is it my birthday?”