this is not a 'i ship it' post

  • Lance: So Pidge, you love peanuts, yes?
  • Pidge: ... yeh.
  • Lance: And you love girls, right?
  • Pidge: Correct.
  • Lance: What would you do if the most beautiful girl in the universe had a peanut allergy??
  • Pidge: I don't think there were peanuts on Altea so Allura probably wouldn't have an allergy??

matildaswan  asked:

k lmao the boys end up at Raf's after a lads night out for a final round of beers and Fletch goes to pass out on the couch, bc he's too tired to go home and the besides the babysitting was till morning, and he's like "giz blanket imma kip on the couch" and Raf is like "oh nononono ur not, mate, you're coming with me my pal" and Fletch is like, "okay???" and follows him up the stairs (holding hands) and then they plonk into bed together and get all handsy and smiling happy sappy makes outs pls

They must have had one too many. Must be drunk, Fletch reasons, as he lets himself be led back to Raf’s for a nightcap. He’s got to be feeling some kind of alcohol-induced wave of soppiness, because as he sets the now-empty bottle of beer down on the coffee table, the last thing he wants to do is go home.

He’s missed the two of them like this. Together. He wouldn’t admit it, doesn’t want to sound stupid, but he never stopped craving Raf’s company. Not once. The kids miss him too, but that’s different– doesn’t even begin to cover the empty space he’s left not just in the house, but on the ward, too.

“D’you want me to call you a taxi?” Raf asks, although neither of them are making an attempt to move.

Fletch leans back into the sofa. Lets his eyes slip shut, just for a moment. 

“Too tired.” It’s not a lie– far from it, really– but he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol heavy in his veins or the prospect of leaving now that turns his limbs to lead. So he sits, deadweight, opening his eyes after a few seconds of silence to watch Raf’s face soften.

“Stay, then. The babysitter’s in ‘til morning, yeah?”

Fletch nods. “I’ll be fine– just bring me a cover or something, I’ll kip here.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Raf replies, pushing himself off the sofa before he stands, reaching out a hand to him. “I’m not leaving you on your own down here– you can sleep with me. No man left behind.”

“Steady on.” Fletch grins. When Raf doesn’t move, he gets the message. Takes his hand at last, lets Raf haul him onto his feet. Finds himself smiling as Raf tugs him upstairs.

By the time they make it to the bed, Fletch is wide awake; is stone sober as Raf undresses in front of him and climbs into bed. It takes Fletch a minute to follow suit, for his hands to catch up with his brain, because Raf is laying there– watching. He’s seen that look countless times. Even in the darkness, he can picture those eyes, bright and sparkling. Soft. A bit like a happy dog. It’s the first time he’s been on the receiving end, though. 

No– he’s got to be imagining it. They used to spend every waking moment together. If there was something between them– something like that– surely he’d have picked it up before now… wouldn’t he?

Then he’s under the duvet. Raf’s duvet. With Raf. They’re practically nose-to-nose, save for a couple of inches. Fletch can just about make out the flash of the grin that Raf shoots him, can feel himself involuntarily mirroring it as he gazes back.


“Night,” Fletch echoes. 

He’s halfway through turning over when Raf speaks again. “Fletch–”

This time, the gap between them is bridged by Raf’s mouth as he leans in for a kiss, slow and lingering. As surprising as it is– terrifying, even– Fletch doesn’t pull away. Instead he shuffles closer. Kisses him back as messy as he likes, because suddenly there’s all of these feelings slotting into place, pouring out of him from all directions and pulling them both further into each other. How has it taken him so long to realise that this is what he’s wanted all along? That the loss he’d felt was really love?

Raf is everywhere– tongue heavy in his mouth, body warm pressed against his own, hand cradling his back. Fletch finally allows his own hand to explore, to weave its way into Raf’s hair, to hold him firm and still against his own lips. Forever, if they could.

Then, much to Fletch’s disappointment, Raf pulls away. Pants hot against his cheek. Laughs– but it’s joyous, not mocking like Fletch was half expecting it to be.

“Fletch, I didn’t know– I wasn’t sure–” Raf stumbles over his words. Too many words, as far as Fletch is concerned, not when his mouth can be put to much better uses.

“Shut up and snog me, will you?”

Ya know bisexual characters can be…bisexual….you don’t gotta write them in fanfic like they’ve been Straight™ all their life but this One Person is the exception….like I know it’s wild….but their partner doesn’t have to be the only person of the same sex they’ve ever Noticed™ ever

  • Me at 11 in the night: LONG LIVE PRODUCTIVITY! Tomorrow, I will write, draw, study, do those diys I've always wanted to try, bake, play football, make edits and CONQUER THE GALAXY!
  • Me the next morning: *reads fanfiction all day*

Everyone is smiling except Keith, because he’s got better things to do than smile at you.  

Right! So I made y’all a few icons you never asked for! If anyone wants one with a different flag behind it, feel free to PM me, I’ll fix you up.

Fixed version: And by this, I mean I’ll 100% make this post about pride, and not about my headcanons for the characters :) 


“It is you.” | Rey Kenobi

Kylo’s version: [ + ]