i have seen this movie a million times it never gets old

Good Things that Happened in 2016

·         New chemotherapy breakthroughs have increased the 5-year survival for pancreatic cancer from 16% to 27% (and is getting better)

·         Scientists figured out how to link robotic limbs with the part of the brain that deals with intent to move so people don’t have to think about how they will move the limb, it can just happen.

·         Child mortality is down everywhere and it keeps going down.

·         Thanks to the ice bucket challenge the gene responsible for ALS has been found, meaning we are closer to an effective treatment. Let me rephrase that: we are close to getting a treatment for a very bad disease because a lot of people (including really hot celebrities) got wet.

·         A solar powered plan circumnavigated the world.

·         Michael Jordan donates 2mil to try and help bridge connection between police and the community.

·         Tiger numbers are growing.

·         And manatees.

·         And pandas.

·         Pakistan has made strides toward outlawing honor killings.

·         70,000 Muslim clerics declared a fatwa against ISIS.

·         Pokemon Go players went insane with placing lure modules near hospitals for sick kids.

·         California is now powering over 6 million homes with solar power, a record in the US (and that is the tightest shit)

·         Volunteers in India planted 50 million trees in 24 hours.

·         Apparently world crime as a whole has drastically declined as a whole in the last couple of decades.

·         Coffee consumption has been proved to help curtail cancer and suicide rates.

·         Speaking of coffee Starbucks figured out how to donate perishable food in a food safe way.

·         500 elephants were relocated to a better, safer and bigger home.

·         We made massive strides in Alzheimers’ prevention (my grandmother literally told me that scares her more than getting cancer this is very good news)

·         The ozone layer is repairing itself and all the work we did to get rid of those aerosol chemicals was actually worth it.

·         A new therapy developed in Israel could cure radiation sickness.

·         The Anglican church resolved to solemnize same-sex unions the same as opposite-sex unions which required a super majority of all three orders of the church (lay, clergy, bishop).

·         The Rabbinical Assembly issued a resolution affirming the rights of transgender and non-conforming individuals.

·         Precision treatments for cancer are hitting clinical trials and WORKING (as someone who’s had relatives with cancer this is the best news)

·         Dentists are once again providing free care to veterans who need it.

·         The Orlando Shakespeare Festival showed up with angel wings to block funeral-goers for the Orlando Pulse victims, view from anti-gay protesters

·         Rise Women’s Legal Centre opened

·         Death by heart disease has decreased by 70% in the United States

·         Two brothers saw color for the first time thanks to specially-designed glasses

• Portugal ran its entire nation solely on renewable energy for four days straight

·         A retiree is launching a project to transport 80 endangered rhinos to an Australian reservation to save the animals from poaching

·         An Afghan teacher has been delivering books via bicycle to villages that lack schools

·         Harriet Tubman is going to replace Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill.

·         200 strangers attended the funeral of a homeless WW2 veteran with no family

·         A teen battling cancer married his sweetheart

·         Bank firm pays for college tuition for the children of employees who died in the 9/11 attacks

·         New medicine has been shown to increase melanoma survival rate to 40%

·         Over 800 Boko Harem Hostages were rescued by Nigerian Army

·         Toys R Us is Offering Quiet Shopping Hour for kids with autism this holiday season

·         Volunteers made special tiny Halloween costumes for NICU babies

·         A 4-year old befriends a lonely man and helped him heal after losing his wife

·         Families grew

·         People survived c ancer

·         People overcame depression

·         Any kind of victory, even if it affects only one person,  is a victory

·         Now for the pop culture good news

·         LEONARDO DICAPRIO WON AN OSCAR! EVERYONE READING THIS LIVED LONG ENOUGH TO SEE LEO FINALLY GET WHAT HE DESERVED

·         There’s a new Harry Potter book

·         And a movie

·         Harry Potter has no plans on vanishing with time

·         This sweet father gave candy to passengers on a flight so his little girl could trick or treat on Halloween

·         LET ME TALK ABOUT ALL THE KICK ASS MOVIES WE GOT THIS YEAR OH MY GOD

·         Kung Fu Panda 3, this franchise is still going strong despite that its about a panda played by Jack Black

·         Jungle Book. The amazing remake none of us saw coming

·         Finding Dory. I haven’t seen it yet but I’ve heard good things

·         Kubo and the Two Strings. Haven’t seen that yet as well but its Laika so I know it’s a masterpiece

·         Deadpool. The beautiful and super accurate R-rated marvel film

·         Captain America: Civil War. Seriously is the best marvel movie yet in my opinion I need more.

·         Zootopia. Oh don’t mind me I’m just a movie that tackled the issue of racism and not only game changed animated films but also made a billion dollars

·         The Hamilton Mixtape is coming out. Which is a bunch of artists singing songs from the musical (Sia, Usher, Regina Spketor, etc.) I’m excited.

·         A personal victory for myself, I joined Tumblr and met angels in blog form so…that’s uplifting.

·         And I met my favorite voice actor at a con which was a bucket list accomplishment.

Good Things that have yet to happen this year

·         Birthdays

·        Thanksgiving

·         Black Friday

·         Moana

·         Christmas

Good things that have nothing to do with the year but will hopefully make you feel better

·         Puppies

·         Chocolate

·         Rainbows

·         Rain (I like listening to rain it’s one of the most calming sounds)

·         Cartoons

·         Kissing

·         Music

·         Friends

·         FF: If you are a religious person you are an imperfect masterpiece

·         FF: If you are not then you are a splendid coincidence

·         Any year spent with loved ones be they family or friends is a good year. Trust me.

·         ”A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it’s the only weapon we have” –Roger Rabbit

#NeverForgetTheGood


*Plz feel free to add other good news (even if it’s something small like you ate cheesecake THAT is good news)

*at the end of the year I plan to remake this list with new things, fixed mistakes and links but will be posting from my side blog @iamrainbow
Being Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Daughter...
  • Lin would cry the day you were born but he would also brag a lot.
  • He’d shower you with gifts but he was also careful not to overdo it
  • Chances are, (depending on your age and whatever year you’d picture this for) you’d be friends with a lot of the Hamilton cast/ and or their kids
  • There’s no doubt about it you’d be a freestyling genius much like him and musically talented.
  • And Lin would be so proud of this
  • Lin’s heart would melt every time you called him ‘dad’
  • He is probably one of the most caring, sweetest, and involved father out there.
  • And if your mother wasn’t in the picture, Lin would be sure to work to fill in her shoes.
  • He would attend all your school events and extra curriculars too.
  • On mother’s day he would plan a brunch inviting his sister and mother over making sure you knew you weren’t alone when it came to the amount of females in your life.
  • Whenever he goes to Richard Rodgers Theatre or goes to work for whatever project he’s working on he is constantly pulling his phone out to show his fellow coworkers pictures of you
  • He can’t help it
  • But one thing is for sure, Lin would make sure you knew how strong of a woman you were. Being a strong activist for equal rights Lin knew how easy it was for girls in today’s society to feel weak and defeated by the powerful and he never wanted you to experience that. So he would make post-it notes and stick them in your lunchbox, on your mirror, and anywhere he could find with sayings such as…
  • “I am woman hear me roar!”
    “Though she be but little, she is fierce!”
    “A strong woman looks fear in the eye and gives it but a wink.”
    “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.”
  • And because your father is one of the most encouraging and inspiring figures in the world, not only in tweets but reality as well, he excels at giving the best, most needed pep talks when you’re down in the dumps.
  • Lin had you speaking Spanish as soon as you said your first word
  • Lin would practically document your entire life. He liked taping you and taking pictures while you were doing casual activities such as coloring, singing, dancing, playing with your dolls, running around the house, etc.
  • Tobillo basically being your best friend
  • That dog follows you wherever you go
  • Lin has thousands of videos from when you were learning to walk, practically waddling around and Tobillo was right on your heel the entire time following you.
  • The whole Hamilton cast would be obsessed with you
  • Especially Phillipa
  • That girl loved you as if you were her own
  • And if you were old enough, you would join the Schuyler Sisters in their inbetween shows closet talk.
  • Sleep overs at Jasmine and Anthony’s while your dad is out of town
  • And they would absolutely LOVE having you over
  • You made them want to have kids that much more and Anthony loved taking you to the movies and Jasmine loved taking you out shopping
  • Speaking of shopping, Renee, Jasmine, and Phillipa are always spoiling you with the newest trends and what nots.
  • The Hamilton cast would be like another family to you
  • Always running around backstage with Groffsauce, who usually was assign babysitting duty.
  • The Schuyler sisters- as well as Leslie teaching you how to harmonize
  • Daveed loved helping you with your freestyling
  • You and him always got in heated battles- in good spirits of course
  • Playing childish games during intermission and between shows with Oak, Daveed, and Anthony.
  • Trying to braid your dad’s hair during his Hamilton days
  • Let’s be real, Lin would dedicate Dear Theodosia to you
  • And during Stay Alive (reprise) and It’s Quiet Uptown he had genuine tears pinching at his eyes as he fathomed the thought of losing you
  • But Lin would always run to you and spin you around every night after shows
  • The two of you would walk hand and hand together home and Lin would sing you to sleep every night
  • He’d love making you breakfast and basking in that domestic life
  • I could see him making some of the best pancakes in the world
  • And one morning when you were little, you convinced him to let you have a sip of his coffee
  • “Daddy, what’s that black stuff in there.”
    “It’s called coffee, bebé.”
    “Can I try some?”
    “Uh, I don’t think so, Y/n. You wouldn’t like it.”
    “Please, papi.”
    “Oh alright.”
  • Like he predicted, you hated it. The liquid burned your throat and young little you cried at the bitterness for at least a minute which broke Lin’s heart.
  • Lin would be the type of parent that would love to show you off to family and friends but when it came to posting pictures of you on social media, he usually made sure your face was covered, just to keep an element of privacy in his life.
  • But he does love tweeting stories about you or cute things that you do
  • Your childhood years would be a little hectic. Lin probably wouldn’t be around as much as he wants with filming, acting, composing and all but he would make an effort of a lifetime to be as involved as possible.
  • By your late teens you had already seen much of the world but that didn’t mean you were bored by any mean. Adventure was in your soul.
  • Lin would spend a lot of time with you during his time working with the film Moana. He liked to come to you to find inspiration.
  • Family trips to Disney World and Land
  • Lin is constantly trying to help you with his homework
  • “You know I was a teacher.”
  • Coming to him when you start learning about the American Revolution
  • “Well I mean you came to right person. I did write an entire musical about this stuff. Just use the album for a reference, it’s mostly accurate.”
  • Walking into your house one day after school infuriated as you set your pop quiz on the Schuyler Sisters in front of him, a large 9/10 circled with red pen.
  • “And I quote, I’m the oldest and the wittiest… My father has no sons… dad you cost me a perfect score! Why did you lie in the lyrics, I thought you said I could trust them!”
    “I’m sorry I forgot they had other siblings!”
  • Similar to your father, you swore like a sailor
  • Which also meant you were constantly getting scolded and death glares from your father who claims “He didn’t raise you to speak like that.” Even though you both know he did.
  • But honestly I could see Lin being into girl drama. Like when he picks you up from school and sees an annoyed look on your face he’d just shake his head and say,
  • “Spill the tea, honey. I’m ready!”
  • And on your bad days after dropping you off at home after school, Lin would drive to the nearest DQ and Chick-Fil-A and movie store returning home with gifts in toll.
  • He was one of the only people in the world you trusted enough to tell everything too
  • Dad jokes, so many dad jokes.
  • “Dad I’m thirsty. Do we have any-“
    “Hi thirsty nice to meet you I’m Lin-Manuel.”
  • Being very close with your grandparents
  • Your grandpa teaching you how to cook
  • Your grandma would spoil you tbh
  • Girl talk with your Aunt Luz
  • Your dad would be really big on making sure you knew and understood the importance of equality and treating others with respect. 
  • Weekly meals at their place where your grandpa is also telling tales
  • “You know pequeño, when your father was your age I couldn’t get him to shut up!”
    “Papi-“
    “He was always doing his rapping, talking fast and never making sense but he had passion just like yourself so don’t you ever give up on yourself carino. If your father did he would not be where he is today- and neither would you.”
    “Thank you abuelo.”
  • And when you finally do make it, doing whatever or being wherever that may be, you’ll have Lin’s as well as the rest of your families support because Lin knows exactly what it feels like to have millions of people doubt you and laugh at you for doing the unexpected so his support will never run out.
  • When Lin finds out you have a passion for writing and composing, he immediately takes you with him for a daddy daughter date to the studio.
  • He pretends to be out of ideas for a song and you play along knowing it would be a lot less painful to take the easy path.
  • “Well there are a few different projects I’ve been working on lately. They aren’t too good… pretty shitty-“
    “Y/n.”
    “Sorry… but uh, you can have a look I suppose.”
  • Becoming a co writer beside your dad on his next project
  • Going on walks and hikes together with Tobillo
  • But for real though Lin would be insanely protective over you
  • Like when it comes to you Lin always needs to know where you are and constantly has eyes on you
  • When you got your first boyfriend/girlfriend Lin would FLIP
  • You’d suddenly become a player in the game ’21 questions’ or more like 101 questions when it came to your dad
  • He demanded meeting your significant other and no matter the gender, he held his strong demeanor and hardly cracked a smile- well until he saw how happy you looked in their presence.
  • But eventually he’d come to term with it. Although he would always see you as his little girl, he knew you had to spread your wings and he was not about to hold you back from doing so.
  • And when you finally land a lead role on an upcoming Broadway show, Lin is ecstatic.
  • Every day he calls you to ask how rehearsals are going partly because he’s interested and excited for you but also because he remembers his restless days and nights where he’d come home so stressed he’d forget to eat for days. He didn’t want to see you go through the hardships he did.
  • Ironically enough the new production is held, opening night, in the same old theater you grew up in, Richard Rodgers. Home sweet home. 
  • And on opening night you can guarantee your father is sitting front row with four bouquets of various flowers surrounded by all your family and friends as well as a handful of the original and new Hamilton cast.
  • And he would cry. A lot.
  • But he would also be that dad that right before the show starts, as the lights are dimming, he stands up and shouts,
  • “Go Y/n!”
  • His proud dad tweets would be never ending that night
  • After the production he was sure to be the first backstage and the first to hug you.
  • “You did it, you did it! I’m so proud of you, mi ángel. Congratulations!”
  • You’d be lying to yourself if you said your dad didn’t have a surprise party planned for after the play because he did.
  • Not to be a downer but there would be days where Lin would cry himself to sleep thinking he hasn’t done enough, or given you the life you deserve. He worked himself far too hard to make sure you had everything you could ever need and knew you were loved, but sometimes he couldn’t help but fear the worst.
  • Although at times he can be overbearing, you wouldn’t want it anyway else.

This was so fun to write oh my lord, hope you enjoyed!

-Daizy xx

anonymous asked:

Do you know what the first big movie novelisation was? Were they ever a big cultural force or just something that existed but no one really cared about?

Before I go into the history of the novelization (and its cousin, the comic adaptation), let me give a couple of recommendations of a few that are better than the movie itself or are just worth reading: Peter David’s novelization of Return of Swamp Thing turned a just-okay so-so movie I forgot the instant I left the theater into something very beautiful, poignant, charming and wonderful. It was all little tweaks, tiny little nudges that made individual moments that fell flat turn into something that worked. It’s amazing how few changes he made to make this story the best possible version of itself, though there were some things the novelization had that made it brilliant and surreal and even experimental, like for instance, Peter David made Alan Moore, Swamp Thing writer, an actual character in the story itself, a clerk at a motel who makes creepy and cryptic foreshadowing comments all through the story.

The novelization of the “meh” Jaws rip-off Orca by Arthur Herzog is a great book because it a tight thriller that gets us right into the head of the orca whale who wants to kill the whaler who murdered his family. Scenes that were maudlin are very moving in prose, with a whale mourning her dead baby and mate, and the hunter is even more tragic when we get into his head and see his remorse. It was like the whale started to represent his guilt. By contrast, the only part of the movie I remember is when the killer whale sets fire to an entire town. 

The novelization of the Flash Gordon movie is extraordinary because it contains explicit sex scenes. The talk is that it was based on an extremely horny early script for the film where it was a European scifi sexploitation romp like Barbarella or Lexx. Hahahaha, can you just imagine being some eleven year old who bought Flash Gordon because he liked the cool space movie only to find a chapter with a blowjob scene in a seraglio?

The whole idea behind Buckaroo Banzai: Across the Eighth Dimension is that it’s actually part 7 of a long running movie series that doesn’t exist, so there are lots of “hey, look, it’s him!” cameos to people we never saw before and tons of lore that just sat in the background. Buckaroo Banzai is a test I use to see if someone’s sense of humor is compatible with mine. So it stands to reason that the novelization, which is more information rich, is a delight for fans of the series. It’s like the only expanded universe product for something that never got an expanded universe. It has details like the fact that Pecos (briefly mentioned as being in Tibet in the film) is actually one of the few Hong Kong Cavaliers to be a woman, and she was in Tibet searching for Buckaroo’s archenemy Hanoi Xan. 

While I wouldn’t say that the novelization of Star Trek: the Motion Picture is better than the movie, exactly, it was written by Gene Roddenberry himself, and had one especially weird fourth wall breaking passage that seemed to be a shout out to the slash-writers, where Captain Kirk says “hey, I don’t know where this idea comes from, but I am super-straight, you guys, seriously. I am only attracted to women.” The novelization also was interesting in that we learned a bit more about Lieutenant Ilea’s empathic powers, which are fundamentally non-visual and we only got a vague sense of in the film. She received emotional signals very much like Deanna Troi later would, and she was not only a receiving empath but a projecting one: we learned that Mr. Sulu, from a less sexually evolved race than Deltans, couldn’t stop picture her naked. 

Finally, getting back to Peter David again, who is like the Phillip K. Dick or Michelangelo of this medium, his novelization of Spider-Man 3 is better than the movie. Moments that fail in the book work there. 

As for the history of the novelization, you have to try to imagine a world where you can’t see a movie whenever you want to. You can only see it when it’s in theaters for a few weeks or when it comes on TV years later. Therefore, novelizations and comic adaptations are designed to replicate the experience of going to the theater. In that sense, they’re almost a relic, technologically speaking, of a time before video and on demand. Fun fact: in the late 1970s, Marvel Comics had a ton of cash problems, and the only thing keeping the lights on was the money made by movie adaptations of things like Logan’s Run.  

Novelizations are extremely old: they go back to the 1920s, and one interesting example is the 1925 Tod Browning film London After Midnight, a horror film that no copies of exist at all and is a “lost film,” but because of the novelization (and a ton of still images during production), we nonetheless know what the plot of the movie is pretty well, to the point that the London After Midnight vampire is almost as iconic as other monsters, despite the fact no one has seen the actual film in decades.

To directly answer your question, the first big book novelization was actually for King Kong in 1933 by Delos Lovelace, which came out the year the movie did. The public went mad for King Kong and the book sold in the millions. It cemented the idea that the novelization is a pretty standard tie-in for a film release, and it’s the most important tie in novel ever written.

Jake Peralta: Stepdad!AU

So this was going to be an actual fic, but, alas, any sort of narrative wouldn’t come, so instead allow me to offer a series of (not at all canon-timeline compliant) headcanons about Amy Santiago’s tiny daughter taking Jake in as part of the family:

  • When Amy starts at the Nine-Nine, she is Very Adamant that Jake will never meet Maya, largely because a) He’s the worst, and b) Maya doesn’t need to see her mother curse out a fellow employee, but mostly c) He’s The Worst.
  • Except she only lasts twelve days, at which point Captain McGinley calls her in on her day off because he’s finally realized that his new detective has started and he wants to meet her, even though they have met four (4) times and he’s assigned two cases to her and Jake
    • It’s supposed to be a short meeting and she promises a very teary-eyed Maya that she’ll be real quick, but she needs to go in without Maya because McGinley looks like he might yell for some reason, Amy can just tell, and Sarge isn’t here and Amy barely knows anyone else and Jake offers, basically
    • Maya is just v. v. teary when Amy blows her a quick kiss before entering McGinley’s office
    • The meeting lasts exactly forty-seven minutes
    • Amy expects A Disaster when she gets out, or at the very least a very stressed-out Jake trying to pass her daughter off on someone else
    • But instead Maya is sitting in Jake’s lap with two of his superhero figurines gripped between her sweaty little hands, patiently telling a story while Jake writes on a piece of paper next to her
    • “And then there’s a dragon,” Maya says breathlessly, and Jake nods along patiently
    • “Fire-breathing or bearded?” he offers, and Maya really considers it for a moment before deciding on bearded. “Got it, I’ve jotted that down.”
    • “I thought no one was allowed to touch your dolls?” Amy asks when she gets to them, and she’s a little stressed out about this whole situation because Jake is suddenly, like, a kind person? Who’s been watching her daughter for forty-seven minutes and counting?
    • “Uh, obviously this is Red Metal Man and Mr. Star, okay.”
    • It’s not. It’s Iron Man and Captain America, and Amy can tell because she’s not totally out of the loop of the cultural zeitgeit, okay, and she sometimes pays attention to movie posters and has very definitely seen at least two of the superhero movies
    • “Plus I believe I said no Santiagos, and that was back before I knew there was a cool Santiago in the clan.”
    • Maya, meanwhile, has grabbed a pen off of Jake’s desk and is now leaning precariously over said desk and drawing on some of the large blank spaces Jake had left on the paper
    • And Amy realizes that Jake was writing down Maya’s story but made sure there was room so she could draw
    • Jake grins at her sheepishly, braces Maya with one hand on her back to make sure she doesn’t slip, and says, “It’s her vision, and she’s, like, a really good storyteller.”
    • Amy swoons, but in a low-key, subtle way. Probably.
    • Anyway, but Jake is also The Worst, so it doesn’t matter

Keep reading

here are a bunch of fucking fantastic fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of october. I recommend that you read these great fics in november, if you haven’t already!! also check out the Reverse Big Bang and 31 Days of Smut!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)


1. Damn the Dark, Damn the Light 20k

“Why is this face of beauty ringing so true?” The genuine confusion in Harry’s voice causes Louis’ chest to painfully twinge. “You’re a complete stranger in my eyes, William Shakespeare, but not in my heart. How is that possible?”

Louis wants to live out every romance plot he has ever written in his own life. He wants to be the protagonist of his own narrative, the hero who finds true love and gets his happy ending. Instead, Louis is stuck with only dreaming of such wild fantasies and writing them down. He can create entire romances in his dreams, yet he can never live one.

2. Threadbare 20k**

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill. He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

3. Don’t Come Down 6k

Louis takes Harry home to meet the family.

4. I’ll Take Your Pain 2k*

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other’s pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed.

Keep reading

Me & Cinderella

Originally posted by heart-attackles

Summary: The reader always knew Dean Winchester was the one. But when her college quarterback boyfriend gets considered for the pros, they let each other drift apart so he could go after his dream. Seven years later, Dean realizes just what happened all those years ago…

Pairing: Football Player!Dean x reader

Word Count: 8,500ish

Warnings: language, angst, self-depreciation

A/N: Thank you to @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday for giving me the inspiration for this story! Written in split POV between Dean and the reader…


Keep reading

Disney films that are *actually* underrated

Treasure Plant

If you already know me, you could probably guess that this would be on the list considering I never shut up about it.

This film flopped at the box office, but I’m honestly not sure why? It has absolutely gorgeous animation. Like, they could have gone with a palette of grays and blues like most scifi films do, but Treasure Planet actually has a large color palette, especially when it comes to the scenery. It shows off all the beautiful colors of space instead of making everything chrome against a dark backdrop. There are likable characters, including a an anti-hero, disabled pirate, a female Naval Captain that’s a total no-nonsense badass, and a sulky teenager. Arguably one of the darkest films Disney has done in the last twenty years. Disabled main character with only one eye, one arm, and one leg. Literally all of the character designs are gorgeous. The plot is a little boring at times, but it’s fairly easy to get lost in the world that’s been created.

Plus, we get visuals like this!

Brother Bear

Brother Bear was another box office flop but this one also had rather negative reviews. The early 2000′s was not kind to Disney animation. 

Yes, it does have a transformation plot, which I know is kind of iffy depending on the person, but overall it’s a great film. The music is amazing, bless Phil Collins signing onto another Disney project. The characters are great, I don’t think there were any I didn’t like except maybe the moose (because as an adult I don’t find them as funny as I did as a child, but I don’t really dislike them either). The relationship between the brothers was amazingly done. Usually when people want to talk about animated sibling relationships, they mention Lilo and Stitch, which is also great, but I really like how the brothers interact in Brother bear. They’re all closer in age (which is like my sister and me, so I can connect with it more), and I think that worked well when they added in the anger and grief and self-blame in the story.

Atlantis: The Lost Empire

There’s not really much I can say about this one, because truthfully I’ve only seen it a handful of times. Something about it kind of freaked me out as a child (I think it was that giant leviathan creature that attacked their submarine thing????), and I only recently found my old VHS player and haven’t had the time to watch it again.

Atlantis has it all. A beautiful world. Well-rounded, interesting characters. A romance that didn’t feel ridiculously forced. The voice talents of Michael J. Fox, Cree Summer, and Leonard Nimoy. A balances of a more adult plotline, while still retaining a kid friendly atmosphere.

Unfortunately, it does lack some coherency in the plot, and because of it’s fast-paced nature, there isn’t a lot of time for character development. The creators also borrowed a lot of elements from the Ghibli film castle in the Sky, but ultimately it’s still a great film visually speaking.

(PS: it was hard to pick a screencap that shows how visually stunning this film is. So much blue.)

The Black Cauldron

Honestly, The Black Cauldron is one of my favorite Disney films, but I can recognize that it has a lot of problems story wise. As in, they tried to stick the contents of two full length novels into an 80 minute film. Yeah, it didn’t work. The characters are interesting, albeit under-developed, visually it’s very beautiful, and it has just the right amount of creepy to give 5 year old me nightmares as a child (the Horned King was a brilliant concept). The author of the book series the Chronicles of Prydain, which the film is based on, found the film enjoyable on its own, but admitted it didn’t follow the books well. It was also another box office flop, making $21.3 million in revenue, which was less than half of the budget to make the film. This is the film that Disney pretends they didn’t make and is frequently referred to as the “worst Disney film” however we all know that that right belongs to films like Home on the Range, Chicken Little, and Mars Needs Moms.

There is speculation that Disney has plans to make a live action series based on the original books, so fingers crossed!

Robin Hood

It’s underrated, but I can kind of tell why. Everyone already knows the story of Robin Hood, because there’s at least ten different films and TV series about the guy. He’s been on OUaT, and there was a parody movie with Cary Elwes!

The animation is, decent, but not great, but the budged was only 5 million, so??? Meaning that a lot of the characters action were redrawn from previous films such as The Jungle Book and Aristocats. However, this was pretty common in old Disney films because the animators were paid for shit and it’s not plagiarism if you’re ripping off yourself. It is a little sloppy though.

Either way, it’s still a decent film. The songs were fun and had a delightfully folk sound to them, if you’re into that! The characters are pretty cute, the story is straight forward, and there’s not actually anything to really dislike about the film. It’s just a silly comedy that has it’s ups and downs.

Dinosaur

I don’t even know what to say about this film other than it’s gorgeous and no one ever talks about it. Like, this is the first true Disney film that relies entirely on CGI. No Pixar involvement. Just Disney and CGI. This is the most successful film of 2000 and I’ve never heard people talk about it even though it has great characters, an interesting story, and great visuals.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

While I personally don’t believe Hunchback is all that underrated (I usually see it in just about every top 10 or 20 list), it’s still a great film that deserves more praise than it gets.

Hunchback is beautiful, inspiring, dark, has excellent morals, amazing characters amazing music.It’s basically the complete package of everything you could want in a Disney film and it’s enjoyable for all ages.

The only thing I didn’t like about this film was the gargoyles and it’s kind of implied that they’re more like imaginary friends instead of real creatures, so they get a pass.

Demonstrate Pt. 2! (Pornstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

A/N: HEY GUYS! Finally, it’s here! I’ve been having trouble trying to up the dirtiness from the last one, but I’ve finally made some str8 sin! 😭I was literally beaming while writing this cuz it’s SO DIRTY. :’D I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - -Delilah ❤ 

Demonstrate Pt. 2: After the last successful video, Reader and Bucky are at it agin, only this time they’re welcoming a third member. (;

Warnings: Pornography. Extremely NSFW. M/F/F. Threesomes. Graphic sex and language. Slight daddy kink. 

Keep reading

Distance

Requested By: @purelyparker

hi there :-) i love your writing sm so i was wondering if you could write a tom holland imagine based off of the song “give me love” by ed sheeran where the reader breaks up with tom bc of his hectic acting schedule but they both aren’t taking the breakup very well (however THERES A HAPPY ENDING?? HOPEFULLY???) but that’s just an idea; it’s totally up to you to put your own spin on it or go in a different direction !! thank you SOSO much🤗💛

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Description: Tom had been traveling a lot lately, so much to the point you rarely saw him at all, sure you’d call and text occasionally, but that wasn’t enough, you supported his acting career 100%, but you couldn’t take it anymore.

Warnings: Kinda sad, slight mention of alcohol, but then happiness :)

Word Count: 2,661

A/N: This actually turned out a lot better than I thought it was going to tbh, so I hope you enjoy it :)) Also, this gif has nothing to do with the imagine, I just thought it was a cute gif of Tom, oops.

Originally posted by ridreyrholland

It had been two months since you last seen Tom, he was off filming for Spider-Man Homecoming, which you totally understood, it took dedication and time, but so did your relationship with him.

Normally when he went off and filmed movies you two were okay, you didn’t normally have issues and you’d still see him and talk almost everyday, but this time it was different.

Tom just disappeared, you’d get an occasional text here and there, sometimes a phone call, but that was it.

You were left in the dark, just like a fan was.

It’s not that you didn’t love his fans, you did with all your heart, they were half the reason you were still sane, since they seemed to have more knowledge about Tom than you did yourself, and you were the one dating him.

You spent those long two months trying to decide on what to do, on what you thought was right and necessary, or more so healthy.

You knew deep down this relationship with Tom was fading, it was becoming stressful and making you more and more upset as the days went by.

‘Cause lately I’ve been waking up alone,

Pain splattered teardrops on my shirt.

Every morning you’d wake up, in hope of a good morning text, literally anything to show that maybe, just maybe he remembered you, but there was never anything.

This crushed your heart, everyday.

Until one day you had enough, you didn’t want to do this, but it was for the best, it was the right decision, it was the smart decision, this relationship wasn’t healthy for you anymore.

You started packing your belongings from Tom’s apartment, tears streaming down your face as you packed up boxes of your belongings.

You dreaded leaving his clothes behind that you always wore, but you knew if you took them you’d never let him go, and you needed to, it was for the best you would tell yourself.

You took one last look around his apartment, the one you had been living in for the past year, all the memories you two had created there were slowly being erased.

You let out a choked sob as you picked up the few boxes you had, before closing and locking the apartment door, and off to your new tiny little apartment your parents had gotten you a while back.

It was a few hours away from Tom’s which was good in a small sense, but at the same time your mind was moving at warp speed, unable to process you were moving back into your old apartment.

You arrived at nightfall, pulling your belongings out of your car before entering your tiny living space, you always had the feeling of comfort and safety in your apartment.

Maybe tonight I’ll call ya,

Maybe I should let you go.

You set your boxes on the counter of your kitchen, pulling out your phone, shakily dialing in Tom’s number.

You pressed the phone to your ear hesitantly, hearing it ring a few times before someone picked up.

“Hello?” A voice rung through your apartment, making your knees go weak.

“Hey Tom..” You murmured into the phone, biting your lip nervously, a bad habit you had gotten.

“Oh, hey Y/N! What’s up?” He questioned casually, as if he had no clue in the world how distant he had been with you these past few months.

“I-I uhm..” You stuttered, your heart beating rapidly, as you nervously swallowed, which Tom could hear through the phone.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Tom questioned worriedly, making you blink back tears that were daring to fall down your cheeks.

“No.. Tom.. Things aren’t okay.. They haven’t been for a while..” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, but Tom heard you clear as day, his heart starting to beat quicker.

“Y-Y/N, you’re starting to scare me, what’s going on?” He stammered, he was now sitting down at a table on set.

“Tom..” You started, wiping your hand across your cheeks, tears continuing to fall down them.

“Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve talked?” You asked, sitting down on a stool in your kitchen, waiting for his answer.

Tom sat there for a minute, puzzled at your question, until he started to realize how he’d been acting, as if you didn’t even exist.

“Y/N, o-oh my god, I’m s-so sorry.” Tom apologized, his eyes wide as he started to put pieces together.

“Tom, just stop, please?” You whimpered out, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Y/N, p-please don’t do this..” Tom whispered, his voice cracking, he couldn’t bare lose you.

“Tom, this isn’t healthy, I can’t keep living like this..” You whispered, sniffling, your heart hurting the more you spoke.

“I can change, I can fix things, I-I promise..” Tom pleaded, tears starting to brim his eyes.

“Listen, I love you, but.. I-I can’t do this anymore.. I think.. W-We should b-break u-up..” You stuttered, your heart breaking into a million pieces as you spoke the most awful words.

“N-No, Y/N, p-please! N-No! I-I can’t l-lose you.” Tom cried out, tears now falling down his cheeks, but he didn’t even care anymore if anyone saw him.

“I-I’m so sorry..” You whispered, choking back sobs, as you heard Tom letting out his own.

“Y/N, d-don’t do this, p-please..” He continued to plead, only making it worse for the both of you.

“It’s for the best, I love you, goodbye Tom.” You whispered, hanging up before you could hear anymore of his plea’s.

You slowly slid down the stool, leaning back against your counter, letting out strangled sobs, your heart broken into small tiny fragments.

Tom on the other hand was staring at his phone, unable to process what had just happened.

His hands were shaking, tears were streaming down his red cheeks, his hair was a mess from running and tugging on it too many times.

“Hey Tom, we’re ready to shoot the next scene and, -oh, good lord what happened? Are you okay?” The producer asked, seeing Tom’s state wasn’t exactly stable at the current moment.

Tom just stared ahead of him, unable to produce words, all he could think about was you, and how he had let you down, made you feel like you were forgotten, not important to him, when you actually meant the entire world to him.

You were the reason he woke up every morning, the reason he was happy all the time, the reason he was as successful as he was, you were his light, but now you were gone, and now everything was dark.

“Tom, hey man, what’s going on?“ Jacob rushed over, after the producer told him how worried they were about his mental state.

"Buddy, it’s me, talk to me.” Jacob pleaded, looking over Tom and internally cringing at how much of a disaster he looked.

“Y-Y/n, she b-broke up with m-me.” Tom stammered out, looking up at his friend, who had a look of shock on his face.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. What happened?” Jacob asked carefully, not wanting Tom to have a emotional breakdown even worse.

“I became distant, without even realizing it, and it broke her.” Tom wiped his face, looking at the table sadly.

“You can win her back buddy, I know it.” Jacob tried to convince him, anything to make him lighten up just the tiniest bit.

“I really blew it Jacob, you should of heard her, she sounded so broken, and a-alone and it’s all m-my fault! I made the only person I loved leave me all because I was too much of an idiot.” Tom spoke furiously, hitting the table, startling Jacob.

“Alright, you know what lets just take a break today, you can chill and do what you need to, and we can figure this all out.” Jacob suggested, as Tom nodded slightly, before Jacob went to the producer, who agreed it was a good idea.

Two days passed and you were a total mess, you refused to leave your apartment, your friends tried calling and texting you, but you just ignored them, wanting to be alone.

You just laid in your bed, the curtains closed, a candle lit on your kitchen counter, making your apartment smell like crisp fall air.

‘Cause lately I’ve been craving more,

And it’s been a while, but I still feel the same,

After my blood turns into alcohol,

All I want is the taste that your lips allow.

Without Tom you didn’t know what to do with your life, he was such a huge part of you and now he was missing, a chunk of you was missing and you were lost.

You tried drinking, to numb the pain, but nothing worked, it just made you even more miserable than before.

You needed him.

And he needed you.

The producer had allowed Tom and Jacob to return back home for a few days to figure things out, once he got to his apartment he had expected you to still be there, but once he entered he noticed that none of your belongings were there anymore, and the shirts you once wore were folded on his bed.

In that moment he felt his heart drop, you really had left.

“Dude, where could she be?” Jacob questioned, as they set their belongings in his apartment.

“She returned back to her old one, she used to live there until she moved in with me.” Tom replied, grabbing his keys as they both headed out the door again.

They drove the few hours to your apartment, Tom was a nervous wreck, he wasn’t sure how you’d react to seeing him after all this time.

“Okay buddy, you got this, I’ll wait in the car.” Jacob gave a small smile, along with a thumbs up as Tom got out and walked up to your apartment door, hesitantly knocking.

When you didn’t answer he got nervous, but he saw your car parked in the driveway so he knew you were home.

This made him worry, he quickly fidgeted to find the spare key you had given him, he swiftly unlocked the door, noticing the darkness of the apartment, and the intense smell of alcohol and a fall scented candle.

“Y/N? Y/N where are you?” Tom shouted, before seeing you laying in your bed, staring blankly into space.

“Shit, Y/N.” Tom rushed over, pulling you into his arms tightly, kissing your head.

“T-Tom?” You mumbled out, blinking rapidly before realizing he wasn’t a figment of your imagination, that you weren’t actually hallucinating him.

“Yes, it’s me.” He whispered, now holding your face in his hands gently.

“It’s really you.” You whispered, tears slipping down your face, you couldn’t believe he came to see you.

“It’s really me babe, I’m so so sorry, for everything.” Tom whispered, caressing your cheek gently with his thumb.

“I missed you.” You whimpered, moving your face more into his hand, while placing your hands on his.

“I missed you too darling, I promise that’ll never happen again.” He kissed your forehead, causing you to close your eyes.

“Please, give me another chance.” He pleaded, making you lock eyes with him, before a small smile appeared on your lips as you gave a slight nod.

Tom’s eyes lit up, his heart racing before his lips met yours, the kiss passionate and full of pent up emotions.

“I love you so much, even when you’re an asshole sometimes.” You laughed slightly, your forehead pressed against his.

“I love you too darling, and I know I can be, but that’s why I have someone like you to keep me in place.” He chuckled, kissing your nose before wrapping his arms around you once again.

You both laid there for a bit, catching up, laughing, smiling, kissing, more talking, more kissing.

You knew you always loved this apartment of yours, because no matter what you always felt safe, and now you realized one of those reasons was because of Tom, he made you feel safe, he made you feel at home, because he was your home.

And always would be, no matter what.

You smiled at Tom who was watching you in amusement, before his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Tom answered, before a smile formed on his face and laughter escaped his lips.

“Yes Jacob, you can come up now.” Tom laughed, making your eyes widen and laugh along with him.

“You didn’t tell me Jacob was here! Jacob I’m coming!” You shouted, sprinting off the bed and running down the hallway.

“But babe, what about me!” Tom shouted after you, a playful grin on his face as he watched you sprint down the hallway.

“Are you kidding? Jacob all the way!” You teased, a playful smile on your face as you tackled Jacob in a hug, making him loose his balance.

“Nooooo! My smoothie!”

Lin-Manuel Miranda on His Lifelong Oscars Obsession and Why the Show Still Matters (Guest Column)

The Hollywood Reporter
February 20, 2017

During college, Lin-Manuel Miranda and a friend used to improvise interpretative dance tributes to best picture nominees at their annual Oscar party. “It was a lot of breathing and rolling around,” recalls the creator of the Broadway smash Hamilton. “We had a great Seabiscuit dance one year.”

For the New York-born son of Puerto Rican parents — his father a political consultant, his mother a psychologist — it was just another phase of a lifelong fascination with the Oscars that began when he was growing up in the Inwood section of Manhattan, playing and replaying the telecasts that his family recorded on their VCR. At 37, Miranda is about to cross the threshold from superfan to participant: “How Far I’ll Go,” which he wrote for the Disney film Moana, is nominated for original song, and on Feb. 26, Miranda (with his mother) will attend his first Academy Awards.

It’s an auspicious step in a career that will see him star with Emily Blunt and Colin Firth in Disney’s 2018 Mary Poppins Returns and collaborate with composer Alan Menken on the studio’s live-action The Little Mermaid, one of Miranda’s favorite films and, he reveals here, the gateway to his Oscars obsession.

My brain is a compendium of Oscar moments: Tom Hanks’ beautiful acceptance speech when he won best actor for Philadelphia in 1994. Roberto Benigni climbing over chairs and wanting to make love to everybody in the world when Life Is Beautiful won best foreign-language film in 1999. Kim Basinger presenting in 1990 and telling the audience that one of the best films of the year, Do the Right Thing, was not nominated. For her to take a stand, 25 years before #OscarsSoWhite, was incredible — and impressive because time has shown the prescience of that film.

I expect we’ll see more of that this year. It’s a political time, so I imagine the Oscars will look exactly like your Twitter or Facebook feed. Why should we ignore for three hours what we’re talking about 24 hours a day?

The Oscars were always a family affair when I was a kid. One sort of unintentional tradition we had every year was during the “In Memoriam” part of the show. My family called it the “She died?” section because my dad, who is pop culture-oblivious, would always go, “She died? He died? She died?!” the whole time. So, it was very sad and yet also very funny watching my dad catch up.

When I was a kid, the Oscars felt like this impossibly larger-than-life thing. The first time I felt like I had a horse in the race was in 1990. I was 10, and The Little Mermaid was up for best song and best score. They did that crazy “Under the Sea” number with the late, great Geoffrey Holder and dudes in scuba outfits tap-dancing with flippers. We had a tradition of recording the show on our VHS, and I must have watched it a million and a half times.

There was also an amazing Chuck Workman montage at the beginning of the show that depicted 100 years of filmmaking with classic scores. I was already in love with movies, but this was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

That was the period when Billy Crystal was hosting, and I would memorize his musical spoofs of the year’s top films. He did them with Marc Shaiman, whom I’m working with right now on Mary Poppins Returns… I was a huge fan of those moments and musical numbers — they showed a genuine love of movies while still poking fun at them. I may also be the only person in America who laughed his ass off to “Uma, Oprah. Oprah, Uma.” David Letterman’s commitment to that bit was enough to put it over the top for me. He didn’t care if no one got it. In his head, it was funny.


Hosting the Oscars is not a thing I would ever want to do… You always have to do this dance as a host: You’re playing to a billion people at home, and you’re playing to anxious contestants in a room, and that’s an insanely hard thing to divide. It’s the most thankless task in the world. I have a pretty healthy ego, but it does not extend in that direction. I’d much rather be the guy writing the opening tune than having to deliver it.


Another Oscar moment that really stuck with me was when Whoopi won her best supporting actress for Ghost. I’ll never forget, at the top of her acceptance speech she said, “Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted this,” which is so rare. Then she said, “As a little kid, I lived in the projects, and you’re the people I watched. You’re the people who made me want to be an actor.” For me, it was like she was saying, “If you want this, you can get it, too. I’m proof that you can.”

I had been seeing myself in this world since I was old enough to do anything, and it was as if she reached through the screen to talk to me. I was that kid. Even my mother used to say, “Remember what Whoopi said.”

That speech was the inspiration for the opening song I co-wrote for Neil Patrick Harris, “Bigger,” for the 2013 Tony Awards:

There’s a kid in the middle of nowhere sitting there, living for Tony performances singin’ and flippin’ along with the Pippins and Wickeds and Kinkys, Matildas and Mormonses / So we might reassure that kid and do something to spur that kid  / ‘Cause I promise you all of us up here tonight, We were that kid and now we’re bigger


Another of my favorite moments was in 2005, when they had Antonio Banderas sing “Al Otro Lado Del Rio” from The Motorcycle Diaries, which was nominated for best song. And then when Jorge Drexler, who composed it, won, he went onstage and sang it, like, “This is how it really goes.” It was so funny and ballsy and great. I’m happy whenever Latinos win anything, so I was thrilled by both performances.

I can’t tell you what it feels like in that room because this will be my first time at the Oscars, but I can tell you why the Oscars matter. It’s a night when the arts and artists are formally honored, and this recognition is seen by millions of people across the country and around the world. The show inspires people to keep pursuing their craft, or to seek out the nominated films or the overall body of work of the nominees, and through that exposure, people gain a greater appreciation of what the art of filmmaking brings to our culture.

Multiverse Lovers - Part 1

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Just the Reader, for now.

Word Count: 2,678

Warnings: None - there will be smut in EVERY chapter following this though. 

Summary: (I don’t normal do one, but it’ll help you understand what this series will be about) Dylan O’Brien was everything to you. You admired him and every character he played with a passion. You would do anything to meet him and the characters you idolized. And, one simple wish was all it took to change your life forever. When you wake up in the presence of the Dylan’s characters, you knew nothing would ever be the same. 

Notes: This is just part one. And I know it is short. The rest of the parts will definitely be longer. Let me know what you think, and pop out what you think is gonna happennnn.

Part One | Part Two

Keep reading

whatrparks  asked:

Heyyy! Love your blog, I've read possibly every fic under the "accidental relationship" and "pining" tags and was wondering if you could update one of them? much love to you people

I did the pining update yesterday and here’s the accidental relationship one. - Anastasia

Originally posted by edigarledezma

Diamond Side Down by hazelandglasz

(1/1 I 659 I Not Rated I Allydia)

Prompt 24- Accidental marriage

put a ring on it. by doctorkaitlyn

(1/1 I 1,120 I General I Sterek)

Stiles wakes up with a mouthful of dirt.

Werewolves + Alcohol = Married? by audrey1nd, RsCreighton

(1/1 I 1,260 I Teen I Stiles/Isaac)

What do you do when you wake up in bed next to your least favorite wolf and find that you got married the night before at your best friend’s bachelor party?

On the Other Shore by Strangeredlantern, Vague_Shadows

(1/? I 1,765 I General I Isaac/Stiles)

Stiles and Isaac have started building a life together with Eloise, but they still have a lot to work through.  

That’s What I Get For Waking Up In Vegas by dontletyourheartdistractyou

(1/1 I 2,821 I Mature I Erica/Malia/Allison/Lydia)

“This is so much like the Katy Perry song,” she groaned, throwing a hand over her forehead.

“Really?” Derek asked. “I was thinking of the Ashton Kutcher movie.”

(In which Erica Reyes accidentally marries four people while vacationing in 9Vegas.)

Turn a Little Faster by skoosiepants

(1/1 I 3,207 I Teen I Sterek)

He shifts back and forth on his feet and tries to psych himself up. He can do this. He’s a badass werewolf, he can totally tell Stiles that they accidentally got werewolf married because—because Stiles was thinking about him, and happened to give him a token of his, uh, affection under the silvery light of the last full moon. Platonic affection, Derek thinks sourly, so he doesn’t get why his wolf feels all warm and fuzzy and bonded all of a sudden.

Honestly, it’s like—why aren’t people accidentally getting werewolf married all the time, if it happens this easily?

Bacon Is The Answer To All Life’s Problems by eeyore9990

(1/1 I 3,322 I Teen I Sterek)

After the election results come in, Stiles uses his long weekend to go visit Derek in Nevada because running away from all of life’s problems sounds like the best of all possible choices. Shenanigans ensue.

Sealed with a Kiss by Inell

(1/1 I 3,628 I Explicit I Stackson)

The fairies seem to like to Stiles, and, unfortunately, the only other person they’ll even let around him is Jackson Whittemore, who he totally doesn’t have feelings for at all. Nope. Not at all.

And Also, I Love You by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 7,155 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek didn’t look at all like Stiles expected. After all, he deliberately chose a school where being a nerd was cool, so he certainly wasn’t expecting his hotter-than-a-thousand-stars roomie to be an actual cool person. Derek has muscles, like everywhere, which he has a tendency to display in skin-tight, sleeveless t-shirts for bands Stiles has never heard of; his jeans are always tight and ripped too, and he has an impressive five-o’clock shadow, the tips of his jet-black hair dyed purple. And his eyes. Stiles is pretty sure he’s only seen eyes like that in comics, or on a movie screen, or in his freakin dreams. They’re somehow simultaneously all of the colors and none of them, transcending something so pedestrian and insignificant as words to encapsulate their beauty. Stiles would come to learn that he’s also wickedly smart, and he plays the guitar and speaks multiple languages, and his sunshine smile is even more alarming that his resting murder face.

The Valentines Thing and Other Fiascoes by Pandaabeer

(6/7 I 8,705 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek has recently succeeded in a lot of things. He has a job, he has a place with electricity and heck he even has netflix. What he has never succeeded at and probably never will is relationships. He’s a sad sack when it comes to love. This Valentines is nothing new.

Or

The sequel to Valentines Strike no one wanted.

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale by moonstalker24

(5/5 I 9,383 I General I Steter)

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.

“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says.
Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?”
“Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

Best Men by zcinmalik

(1/1 I 11,422 I Mature I Boyd/Scott)

Boyd, in a moment of startling clarity, finally feels the unnatural weight of the gold band adorning his ring finger.

To Form a More Perfect Union by WritersAreLiars

(3/? I 11,503 I Mature I Deucalion/Stiles)

Stiles never expected that helping an injured dog would result in him living out the plot of one of his novels. Now he’s accidentally married himself to the alpha of the esteemed Blackwood pack and hoping that Deucalion isn’t too good to be real.

The Hangover by van_helsa124

(13/13 I 15,826 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and the pack visit Vegas to blow off some steam, only to wake up with no memory of the night before. After interrogating Peter for information they quickly realise that: Boyd is missing, a rival pack has declared a blood feud, hunters are on their trail …and, oh yeah, Derek and Stiles are married.

Steel Blue: A Fractured Fairy Tale by FiccinDylan

(15/15 I 29,251 I Explicit I Sterek)

The real reason Stiles and Derek stopped sleeping with each other was because Stiles was the first to break the feelings dam. For Derek, love and sex were placed in two separate compartments, but for Stiles, love was 9chocolate and sex was peanut butter, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were always his favorite candy.

He knew he’d fall head over heels in love with the wolf and he did. And he didn’t know if he could handle Derek not feeling the same way. So instead he agreed with Derek to remove chocolate, and add in the jelly of sarcasm and ribbing banter and jerking off alone.

It sucked.

But Stiles respected Derek and valued his friendship over everything else., he’d do anything for the wolf.

Oh, and he also just found out that he might have a twin brother that’s a porn star for Neckz&Throatz, but oddly… that’s the sidebar in this tale.

Fools Rush In by origamifrogs

(3/3 I 30,673 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Stiles wakes up in his hotel bed in Las Vegas, sticky eyes blinking open to the sight of a stranger sleeping beside him.

A stranger who is male.

And naked.

Stiles promptly falls out of bed.”

Or, the one where Stiles and Derek get drunk in Las Vegas, accidentally get married, go on a road trip, and find love along the way.

UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) by ureshiiichigo

(20/20 I 54,259 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

We Prefer Good Love to Gold by i_am_girlfriday

(9/9 I 63,371 I Explicit I Sterek)

This week on Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition - Derek Hale, a thirty-year-old millionaire venture capitalist and beta werewolf, finally gives into his sisters’ pressures to start dating again and reluctantly agrees to use the services of a supernatural matchmaker. Stiles Stilinski, at age twenty-five, just sold his start-up to Google for undisclosed millions, and ends up on a reality dating show when his true alpha best friend tries to help him get over his broken heart.

***

The last thing anyone expects is for the two eligible bachelors to fall in love with each other behind the scenes.

The Purloined Letter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

(34/34 I 83,123 I Explicit I Sterek)

Kate Argent learns that Peter Hale has a letter, the contents of which, if known, would ruin her, and decides the best place to find it would be the hunting party arranged for the Whittemore-Martin engagement celebrations, but there are some issues with her plan, Peter has brought his nephew, the house is full of omega meaning everyone is watching everyone else, Lydia is not as happy with the engagement as her mother casting her eyes on someone else, her niece, who she’s meant to be chaperoning has eyes for a penniless Scottish Lord, and she’s not even sure that Peter brought the letter with him.

She Loves Me

Warnings: Insane flufffffffff, also no parents again, also every line thing signifies time jump

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You and Shawn’s relationship solely through Aaliyah’s eyes.

A/N: There’s only one part that isn’t in her POV and that’s cause it’s super special. This one’s been sitting in my drafts since I started this blog hahaha

Masterlist


“Aaliyah! Shawn’s here!” Karen called from downstairs.

“Coming!” Aaliyah yelled back, jumping off her bed.

Today was the day Shawn would bring home his new girlfriend. They were going to have a sit-down dinner and everything.

Everyone was excited to meet you. Shawn had been gushing about you since way before you two started dating. But he had mentioned that you were nervous. So Aaliyah made it her mission to make you feel at home.

Keep reading

Solangelo Youtuber au part 1


So, if you’re reading this and you haven’t read my PJO youtuber au, I recommend you go read that first so that way you have a feel of what types of youtubers they are and things like that.
• So, Nico first discovered Will on one of those times you stay up all night looking at weird and random You Tube videos
• The thumbnail was of Will holding up a ukulele, a giant smile stretched across his face
• The video was of Will singing the song ‘I Want To Break Free’ by Queen. That’s all it took for Nico to click on the video. A cute boy and Queen
• Let’s just say the video hooked Nico and he fell into a dark hole of covers, remixes, mash ups all done by the blonde curly haired boy
• By the end of the night Nico had watched all 300 hundred or so videos Will had on his channel and had a very new and broad music taste
• Soon it became an obsession and everyone was aware that Nico liked this guy
• He would wait refresh his You Tube page nonstop every time Will tweeted he would be posting a video, waiting for Will to upload a new video and he’d be one of the first people to like his Instagram pictures
• Everyone who knew Nico knew Will. That how often he brought up Will in conversation
• “Yes, Nico I saw Will’s new video today”
• Or “Yes, Nico you already mentioned three times how cute Will looks in his new selfie he posted”
• It went on like this for at least three months
• That was until, Nico finally DMed him on Instagram
• It had been a decision caused by a lot of alcohol and stupid friends like Percy and Jason
• He hadn’t realized until the next morning he texted Will saying how much “he loved his videos and thinks he’s really cute”
• Nico was sure that Wil would ignore him, but maybe because of his certified Instagram account and large amount of followers, Will responded
• He was, as expected a sweetheart and replied saying “omg thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me!”
• After that, texting became a regular thing for them
• But soon, texting tuned into phone call and phone calls turned into face time and face time turned into the want to meet face to face
• Nico had never had an internet friend before, so he was never graced with the horrible feeling of “what if”
• “what if I’ve just been talking to an old man sitting in his underwear”
• “what if Will is actually horrible in real life”
• “what if he’s a government spy, looking to take down my You Tube channel and steal all of my subscribers? All 6 million of them?”
• But that was ridiculous, because Nico had seen his face and had talked to him face to face, even if it was over a screen
• They finally made the decision to meet up at a local You Tube event held in New York
• The day had been stressful, full of crazy fans, long lines, and terrible air conditioning. But once Nico and Will were done meeting their fans, they searched desperately for each other in the large crowds
• They were searching through crowds of people, trying to find each other, when they made eye contact
• It was like the movies, they pushed through the crowd, trying to get near each other, when suddenly, they were in each other’s arms and suddenly everything felt so right
• Nico would never admit it, but he even cried a little
• It was such a relief, seeing Will in person after telling him everything about himself. His dark secrets and cute quirks and worst fears
• As they held each other, Nico noted how Will’s freckles were a lot more noticeable and how his arms were bigger than he imagined
• “Hi” Nico whispered
• “Hi” Will said back
• And Nico doesn’t remember a time he was happier

go read part two :)

shameless [ stan uris x reader ]

summary: stan likes to flirt. also, pumpkin heist?

warnings: none my boi

a/n:  this is written for @superwolfiestar ‘s “Beauty and the Beast Halloween prompt challenge”! this is day  22 and prompt pumpkin patch. also, request by anon:  Hi! Could you possibly do a Stan Uris x reader where he starts to shamelessly flirts with the reader when they are alone, and at first she is shocked that quiet Stan is doing that. She then tells the other losers, but they can’t believe it until they catch him doing it. But he doesn’t really mind ‘cause Stan the Man is high key a 1000% savage lol Hope you like the idea :)

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

“Did you smile when you recognized my voice just now?”

Confused and even a bit disturbed, you stare into space as your face slowly twists in confusion. You press the bright red telephone to your ear. Behind you, in the living-room, whilst cleaning your mother calls you sweetly and asks who are you talking to. A moment of pure awkward silence passes.

Stan?” You ask; you swear it was his voice, but Stanley Good Boy Uris would never in a million years pull a one-liner on you. That’s Richie’s shtick.

“We’re hanging out tonight, just so you know.”

Beep beep beep. He hung up. Shaken, you slowly put down the telephone. Mixed feelings brew within you: is this a joke? Is Stan okay? Are you okay? Impossible to tell at the moment, but your heart is racing and your cheeks grow feverishly hot. Did he ask you out? No, no way, not Stan Uris. Are the Losers pulling your leg? Possibly. Your birthday is coming up and they always think of something hilarious and equally embarrassing to do on such occasions.

You suppose you’ll have to find out when night falls.

That’s how it had started. A simple telephone call and all went downhill (or uphill, deepening on how one choses to view it) from there. Stan Uris had a knack of catching you in situations where you were alone: after cheerleading practice, shoving your books into your locker, on your way to the girls’ bathroom (That was one time. Coincidentally he had emerged from the boys’ bathroom as you were pulling the handle to girls’ one!). He would wink (yes he would!), call you some sort of made up nickname or just throw you a compliment before disappearing to find Bill. The worst part was, in front of the Losers he was as normal and as sarcastic as he ever was. And Beverly didn’t believe you, either.

“Stan? Really?” She had rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile one time at lunch, “C’mon (Name), at least pick a boy that has actual courage to do that.”

And now here you are. Evening is drawing near and the world paints itself in pretty gold-orange and pink-purple shades. Everything has a strange rosy hue to it, as if someone had taken one of those new age cameras and put a filter on it. It’s also strangely warm, so you lose the scarf and gloves as you hop off your bike along with the two other boys accompanying you. You all stop next to Mr. Feilche’s home. He is an old policeman with a short temper, and currently the only one on the block that is at work and also grows pumpkins in his garden. Halloween is fast approaching and making Jack-O-Lanterns with the Losers has become tradition. Sadly, limited cash supply turns you to crime.

Not like stealing a few pumpkins is all that bad, after all. He has a dozen. You are positive Mr. Feilche won’t even notice.

Taking in a deep breath you stare down the looming house. It seems eerie even, with the curtains drawn and the doors locked and no live being inside. Its paint is already falling and porch lights flicker uneasily in the evening shade. Throwing your bike into nearby bushes - so no one would see it, obviously - you shove your hands into your pockets and look at the boys: Richie follows in your example and lazily drops his bike next to yours, while Stan is careful, setting his and covering it with leaves. Once the boys are done you all share a nod.

“Everyone remember their codenames?” You ask.

“Richie is Eagle 1,” Stan speaks up, “You’re Been there DoneThat, I’m Currently Doing That.”

“Dude, wasn’t (Name) Eagle 2?” Richie inquires. 

Stan shakes his head, “That would imply that she has something to do with you.” Sharing a laugh you shake your head softly before motioning for them to follow.

You, Richie and Stan slowly creep into the back yard, jumping over a short fence and making sure none of the neighbors notice you through the windows. Ben was busy with studies, Mike had expressed no enthusiasm in stealing, Bill and Beverly apologized and said they were planning to go to the movies while Eddie shook his head, nearly violently, and stated that he will never stoop so low and that his mother would kill him if she found out. Richie was in from the get-go. And Stan was the one to invite you.

The pumpkin patch sits silently, one growing bigger than the other, and your eyes glaze over with awe. So orange! So healthy! You haven’t seen such pretty ones in the supermarket and with a wicked grin you glance at the boys.

“Jackpot. Eagle 1 has spotted a goldmine, I repeat, Eagle 1 has spotted a goldmine…” Richie fixes his glasses, rushing to the biggest pumpkin. His fingers dig into its sides and with one swift push upwards he tries to pick it up. You can’t bear to watch his pathetic, though hilarious, attempts, “It’s cool, I don’t need your help, Cerrently Doing That, like at all! You know why—Cuz I’m a real man!” He barely lifts it above ground before dropping it. Losing his balance, Richie stumbles back, “Damn, it’s heavier than Mr. K’s tits.”

You and Stan slowly approach the patch and watch Richie fumble as he picks another, way too heavy, target. You are still unsure why Stan had asked you here. You have noted him go through a change of some sort. Saying and doing things he normally wouldn’t. You can’t help but wonder, and hope, that it’s due to you. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like Stan – he’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s generally a good and kind person. But he’s safe. If someone had told you that Stan Uris would indulge in theft you would have dismissed that claim immediately.

Yet look at the two of you now. Standing in the shade shoulder to shoulder in pleasant silence with small, dazed smiles gracing each other’s faces and no real sufficient thought in mind. You almost forgot about the reason you even came here and if it wasn’t for Richie’s screaming you porbably would’ve floated away into lalaland. It is getting a bit late and a twinge of worry that the owner will come back soon and give you hell for breaking an entry sparks in your chest. You glance at Stan and then back at Richie, “You think we should go help him?”

“Do we have to?”

You crack a smile, “Well we could just leave him and make a run for it.”

“I think we could still make it in time to see that movie you wanted.”

You gulp. Blink a few times once the cool wind brushes your cheeks, “What?”

Stan finally turns to you, “’Nightmare on Elms Street’, right? You said you wanted to go see it.”

“Oh,” You smile softly, coming to hook your hair behind your ear, “oh, uhm, yes, I did, didn’t I…”

Stan takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, “Don’t worry about having nightmares. Because the only dreams you’ll be having are of me—“

“Holy shit, (Name).” Richie’s voice shakes you, “Beverly told me Stan the Fucking Man was making the moves on you, but I so did not fucking believe her!”


end.


forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212@ohblue@phillipas00@ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic@vanillaladyuniverse@onehellofdevilotaku@itsallinyourimagination @whatshernamemaria@magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo@sams-my-babys-daddy @jordysgirl87 @iamhereyoudidthis @thehuntchback@badbitsh13@headcanons-for-losers @orchiddarling @michelangelui@hugeroftrees @pupylvr4905@gcnnyweasleys@nerdysandwichqueen @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo @cheshirecatbyul

A Book of Mormon show but every time someone records a bootleg they change the lyrics and lines into something else that would be comedic and make fun of the boot recorder.

- “I can’t break the rules like the guy in the audience over there!”
- Arnold calls Nabulungi, “Oh bootleg recorder, bootleg recorder.”
- “You and me but mostly him are gonna make bootlegs forever.”
- During Turn It Off and Hasa Diga they point to the recorder.
- “Turn it off, yes that camera over there.”
- “I had the hell dream after recording a bootleg. It was really spooky.”
- “Have fun in hell!” *elders nod* “AGREED.”
- “We love to dance and shout, and let all our cameras out.”
- “Sleep now little buddy, the man’s recording a boot.”
- “The man recording has maggots in his scrotum!”
- “Remember to keep your windows shut! It stops the man from recording illegally.”
- “Somebody films a bad bootleg, hasa diga eebowai!”
- “I think the movie has a lot of artistic license. Even the bootleg man is better than it.”
- “Look what I hava Baba, a man who’s recording a bootleg! And a texting device!”
- “I have never read the Book of Mormon, I’ve only seem the bootleg.”
- “If you order now you also get an extra bootleg!”
- “My mama once told me of a place of no bootlegs and illegal recordings.”
- “Please stop that bootleg guy…. HASA DIGA EEBOWAI.”
- “Wait this can’t be Orlando, I haven’t even seen the bootleg the man recorded!”
- “Elder Price, you broke the rules ELDER!” “Bootleg guy..?”
- “You all know the bootlegs is made of testaments old and new..”
- “He had to man up, unlike that bootleg guy he stuck it out.”
- “I can’t believe that boot guy is such a dick.”
- Instead of coffee cups, men hold cameras and Kevin is terrified.
- Hitler: I started a war and made millions of boots!
- Khan: I was secretly filming!
- Dahmer: I am the guy who fucked up the cast.
- Cochran: I have boots for free.
- “You think that’s bad? I recorded a boot!”
- “I posted it online I’m worse than you!”
- “Long ago when I was five, we watched Fun Home late at night and I decided to film a boot that day. My father asked who filmed the cast, I said that it was my brother Jack, and Jack got grounded until Saturday.”
- “Elder Cunningham is dead! He tried fighting the bootleg guy.”
- “And lo, Joseph stopped filming a bootleg and his AIDs were no more!”
- “—then launch Joseph Smith torpedoes from the mouth of Christ and make a bootleg!”
- “Our prophet has risen, he had ended the bootleg guy!”
- “Compassion, courtesy, LET’S NOT FUCKING RECORD BOOTS OF OTHER PEOPLE.”
- “Desperation, morality, RECORDINGS OF BOOTLEGS.”
- “You have all failed as missionaries! Especially when you couldn’t keep a guy to stop recording a bootleg!”
- “A monkey with a camera.”

Nowhere Fast (Logan x Reader)

 Word Count: 7k+

Rating: M for some mild smut

Warnings: None

Note:  I’m playing fast and loose with the events of “Logan” so most of this is pretty inaccurate. Took the basic premise and turned it into a fix-it fic slash road trip romance because the ending of that godfuckingdamn movie made me want to cry and I couldn’t leave the love of my life like that.
Also keep in mind that I have no fucking idea how cars work so anything in this oneshot is just guesswork.

ALSO the reader is said to be nineteen because duh this started out as a shameless self insert because I ADORE logan and he deserves love and someone who will appreciate his abs
Enjoy and also SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK KMS

It becomes his next mission, after Laura. Saving kids like her. Bringing them up across the border. And of course it’s easier said than done, but Logan feels like he owes it to them. It’s partially his fault their lives have gone to hell, anyway.

That’s how he meets (Name). She’s a mutant, the first natural-born one he’d seen in years– not strong, though, not with all the shit Transigen has been fucking dumping into the food and the water supply– and her entire telekinesis thing had brought a horde of those asshole Reavers crawling out of whatever hellhole they’d been stowed away in to track her down.

He picks her up in a bar somewhere east of Phoenix, Arizona.

And–

The first thing he really registers about her is that she’s fucking pretty.

He notices her in fragments– she’s attractive in that sort of innocent way, with wide, wide eyes and dark lashes and a soft pink mouth and a bright smile, cutoff denim shorts exposing just a little more skin than actually necessary, enough that it makes him swallow around a sudden tightness in his throat.

He ignores it, focuses hard on doing what he came here to do, manages to get her out of there and into his truck without incident. Somehow she ropes him into small talk on the drive, though, and that– that’s where everything just ends up going to shit.

He tells her he’s like her– a mutant– explains where they’re going and why. Up through Michigan, to Canada, he tells her, because the Reavers will be expecting them to try to get through North Dakota again, and he’d rather be safe than dead. A solemn silence follows, which she breaks by making an odd sort of happy noise at whatever music is playing through his shitty speakers, and forcing him to crank up the radio for a song he’s never heard before. She tells him that she loves the song with a smile that’s pleasantly genuine. He says all he likes is alcohol and cigars and for some reason she finds that funny.

She asks him how old he is– “Old enough,” he says, avoiding the question– and then they lapse into a short silence.

“I’ll be nineteen soon,” she mentions as he’s crossing the state lines into New Mexico, an unimportant remark made in passing, and Logan feels his throat tighten inexplicably.

He glances over at her, mumbles some intelligible reply, rakes a too-hot gaze up her legs and over the front of her half-unbuttoned flannel shirt and registers that his palms are sweaty and his mouth is dry and that his stomach is sinking–

She’s barely even legal , he thinks, hopelessly resigned to how much he already knows he doesn’t fucking care.

  —————

They get to the safe house just fine, and Logan breathes a heavy sigh of relief when they pull into the winding dirt driveway at nearly two in the morning– the hardest part of this is over. His connection will be over within the week to take her up to where the rest of the kids are, and that’ll be it.

He never shows up.

Which is just fucking great, and leaves him with the responsibility of bringing her up to Canada himself.

It’s fine, he tells himself, as he pushes open the heavy oak door to the safehouse and realizes it’s only got two rooms.

Fine.

There are separate beds, at least.

It’s not fine.

He finds out almost immediately that she sleeps in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. That first day is hell– it’s like she’s actively trying to kill him; she runs around the house they’re forced to share in the tiniest goddamn shorts he’s ever seen and seems to own a fucking million of those tight, low-cut tank tops. And it’s not just that– she’s a good kid, too, which just makes it worse.

She’s cheerful. She’s smart and a little sarcastic and ridiculously positive, but she’s also focused. Nothing he does goes over her head. At first Logan spends half his time being ridiculously fucking careful about what he says and how he says it just to make sure he doesn’t accidentally scare her away, because he knows he can be frightening. He’s killed people before.

Three days in he becomes convinced that the girl honestly doesn’t care. Nothing he does ever phases her.

It’s nice.

She’s clever, and brave, and unfailingly, stupidly kind.

It’s fucking weird.

On the last day, he wakes up to her fucking making him breakfast at seven in the morning like it’s a normal thing for her to do.

“It’s sort of a thank you, for, you know,” she mumbles through a mouthful of blueberry pancakes, “For saving my life.”

“Mm,” Logan responds, trying not to stare– because her nightshirt is incredibly fucking see-through and he might be two-hundred-something years old but he’s still a man, and–

Fuck.

It’s fine.

(It’s not fine.)

“You could say thank you,” she whines through his silence, pretty obviously not meaning it.

“Thanks,” Logan replies, more gruffly than he intended. He pours cheap convenience-store syrup over the pancakes and focuses harder than necessary on cutting the stack into neat, even pieces. She bites her bottom lip. He does not look.

“So,” she says, looking up at him through her lashes thoughtfully. “I– what are we going to do? I mean, we can’t– how long are we staying here?”

He licks his lips. Swallows. Drops his fork down on his plate and clears his throat with a cough that’s a little too rattling to be healthy, and says,

“Not long.”

She doesn’t say anything.

It surprises him, how easily she accepts the answer. To be honest, it’s nice, because he really didn’t feel like arguing, but a part of him wonders about her family and her friends and if there will be anyone to miss her– if Transigen fucking left anyone alive to miss her. The answer, if he had to guess, is no. She’s alone. She’s probably already been through her fair share of hell, but she still sings as she does the dishes, swaying gently to the tinny sound of some acoustic pop song as it filters in from the cheap radio he keeps on the kitchen window sill. He finds himself in awe of how incredibly fucking happy she still manages to be.  

Logan leans back in his chair and he sips at his coffee and he watches her as she stares almost pensively out the bay window above the sink, her face illuminated in the warmth of the morning sunlight.

It’s nice, he thinks. It’s normal.

It doesn’t stay that way. Things like this usually don’t.

  —————

They clear out two days later. Logan leaves two hundred dollars crammed in the space between the front step and the doorframe for his contact who had set up the safehouse– if he isn’t already dead– and loads the remaining food and supplies into the back of his beat-down pickup truck.

“What the fuck,” she says, looking half-dead in the passenger seat– and it’s not really a question, so Logan doesn’t bother to really answer.

“Seat belt.”

“What the fuck,” she repeats, louder, voice taking on a whiny sort of edge that should really piss him off more than it does. He’s already got a soft spot for her, apparently. Jesus Christ.

Logan grits his teeth.

What ?” he responds, deadpan.

“Wh– you dragged me out of bed at five in the fucking morning,” she says, kicking her feet up on the dashboard with a yawn.

Logan growls, and swats at her kneecaps with the folded-up, coffee-stained road map he’d swiped from one of those shady-looking rest stops by the highway. “Get ‘em off,” he snaps.

She flashes him a rude look, and in a move entirely indicative of how young she actually is, sticks her fucking tongue out at him , a flash of red against the white of her teeth.

And Logan–

Logan laughs. He laughs, the sound abrupt and kind of stilted, like he isn’t used to doing it, like there hasn’t been a reason for him to in what feels like years.

Which is probably true.

Fuck, he thinks.

The girl– she’s still looking at him, flatly unimpressed. Waiting for an answer, or an explanation, or something.

“We had to leave early,” Logan says, risking a side-glance over at her as he maneuvers out of the dirt driveway. “Makes sure we won’t be followed.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, and then heaves a sigh, leaning back against the leather-upholstered seat.

“I forgot about that,” she eventually offers. It’s kind of an apology.

He responds with a noncommittal grunt, reaching over to turn the radio up.

Soon enough they find the main road, and start heading northwest on a mostly-empty highway. The sky is still dark. The only light comes from the streetlamps, glinting off of the tinted windows in eerie, fleeting patterns as he drives past them, one by one.

“You’re not forgiven, though,” she says eventually, lips twitching up into a semblance of a smile. “I don’t get up before ten.”

Logan rolls his eyes. He wants to say something dismissive. Something rude, something to shut down whatever semblance of a friendship they’ve established.

Before he can muster up the courage to say anything she’s rolling down the windows and sliding on a pair of fucking sunglasses even though it’s like, five-thirty in the fucking morning, and turning up the radio as far as it will go. In the distance, the sun finally slips past the horizon line, and the light takes on this warm, ethereal sort of tone, highlighting the planes of her face in a way that makes Logan think about– things. Stupid things.

She’s pretty in a way that she shouldn’t be.

Whatever Logan was about to say dries up and disappears somewhere below his adam’s apple.

He looks at her.

His reflection stares back at him from the mirrored lenses of her knockoff Ray Bans.

“I can’t see shit,” she says, and, again, he finds himself laughing.

  —————

The first night, he manages to find a place for them to sleep: a motel about a half mile from the highway, nestled between a tiny gas station and a greasy, stereotypical “All-American” burger joint.

And it’s shitty.

Logan walks into their room and feels like he’s been blasted back to the fucking 1980s– between the weirdly overused floral patterns fading on the bedspread and the honest-to-god shag carpet, it’s like he’s stumbled into a time capsule.

“Ew,” the girl says, inspecting an odd stain on the chintz armchair by the coffee table. “ Ew.”

Logan scans the room. One bed. No couches, just chairs. The girl notices him silently studying the furniture and immediately sees the problem.

Her solution surprises him.

“We can share,” she says nonchalantly, “Just don’t snore.”

Logan opens his mouth, but doesn’t actually say anything. He closes it.

Right.

And that goes about as well as expected– which is to say they go to bed a respectable distance away from each other, and Logan manages to fall asleep without thinking too much about the practically half-naked girl next to him.

Except-

He wakes up on his side, hip digging uncomfortably into the box spring set beneath the paper-thin mattress, and finds her tucked into the empty space left by his body.

Right , he thinks, again, not really awake, and to be honest, uncertain as to whether or not he’s even conscious.

She shifts. Yawns, breath ghosting hotly against his bare chest. Makes absolutely no effort to move away, not even a little, and Logan feels something that’s almost panic begin to simmer in his abdomen, dissolving any of his remaining sleepiness and leaving him awake and painfully aware.

So he does the logical thing, which is to try to disentangle himself as quietly as possible, before realizing he’s already pressed up against the wall and that there is absolutely nowhere to go.

Fuck, Logan thinks, with the appropriate amount of irritation.

At least he hasn’t popped a boner.

He shifts uncomfortably.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Physical closeness– he refuses to call it intimacy, because it isn’t– has never bothered him before. His truck is small and road trips are long and at this point he should be used to the inevitability of being forced to share a bed with someone.

It would help, he thinks, if that someone were less attractive and less available and less exactly his type. Logan still isn’t sure if he even has a type, but if he did, she’d be it.

(He’s so screwed.)

She yawns, again, and then uses Logan’s body as leverage to push herself away from him towards the end of the bed. And Logan– he stays perfectly fucking still and forces himself to ignore the heat of her palms against his lower abdomen.

“Morning,” she mumbles, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of the bed. She stretches, and her nightshirt rides up, up, up, exposes the curve of her spine as her back arches. The sun streams in from the nearby window and kind of fucking surrounds her, makes her look like some sort of goddamn angel, or something else equally as stupid.

Logan answers her with a noncommittal grunt and buries his face back in one of the lumpy pillows, legitimately praying for strength.

Getting up doesn’t help anything. They eat off-brand cereal for breakfast and he does his best to not talk. Later, she showers while he brushes his teeth, because they need to get on the road as soon as possible and sometimes that means awkward shit happens. He discovers there’s a sliding door to the bath, and it’s that bullshit frosted glass, not really see-through but not solid, either. It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to keep himself from watching– he can’t really see anything, nothing defined, anyway, but there’s the outline of her body through the condensation collecting on the glass, and it’s enough to make focusing on anything else difficult.

Jesus Christ.

It occurs to him, after they’ve checked out and after he’s thrown their bags in the back seat of his pickup, that ignoring her should be a lot easier than it’s ending up to be.

It isn’t.

They stop at the tiny convenience store next to the motel before leaving, to stock up on food.

“And gas,” he adds, staring at the meter, hovering just above ‘empty’.

She goes in to pay and Logan fills up the tank, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the dusty side of the car. He glances into the shop through the dirty glass window and his eyes fix on her almost immediately. She’s smiling and handing a twenty to the cashier– a young guy, about her age, who looks like he has no fucking idea how to react to so much genuine happiness being directed at him.

HIs immediate response is a startlingly aggressive rush of irritation towards the cashier, followed immediately by irritation at himself.

He used to be immune to this sort of shit, he thinks, shoving the gas nozzle back into its cradle.

Apparently that’s changed.

  —————

By the end of their sixth day on the road, they’re somewhere in Illinois and Logan is suffering.

The AC is out and his engine is overheated and he’s overheated and about two minutes away from what feels like a goddamn heat stroke. He’s not sure if he can even have those, but he is sure that he’s about to find out.

They might have enough time to stop for repairs and still be ahead of the people following them. But Logan isn’t going to risk it. He doesn’t want to fight. He’s tired, and there’s always another way, even if that means running.

He tells her they’re going to start driving at night, and her response is understandably negative. It still doesn’t stop him from pulling the truck out of the little bed-and-breakfast they’d ended up in and getting back on the road as soon as the sun sets. She complains for a solid two hours before she starts to fall asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness in the passenger seat.

They’re driving through a long stretch of wilting, sun-dried fields when it happens.

“Wh– fireworks?” She says, opening her eyes just as the first one explodes into a shimmer of red and white above the car.

Logan grunts in affirmative. “‘S the Fourth of July,” he says. “I think.”

She sits up straight in her seat, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on her neck where the seatbelt had bitten into her skin, and fixes him with an imploring look that he can barely see in his peripheral vision.

“No,” he says, already knowing what she’s going to ask.
“But I want to watch the fireworks. Just half an hour,” she answers, somewhat convincingly. “I’ll watch from the truck bed. You can be an asshole and just sit in the car.”

Logan manages to hold his own for about five entire minutes.

“Goddamnit,” he grumbles. She grins.

(In hindsight, giving in to her was a horrible, horrible idea.)

He takes his shitty, beat-up pickup truck and parks it down off the road in one of the fields, half-hidden from the road by a giant weathered sign that reads Land For Sale in peeling black paint, and she climbs into the back truck while he stares at the steering wheel and contemplates what he’s even fucking doing to himself at this point.

He gets out of the car.

She’s lying on her back in the bed of the truck, arms tucked behind her head. The suspension creaks perilously as Logan moves to sit beside her. The sky is clear and the stars are bright and the moon is glowing and full. A firework shoots up into the sky in a trail of golden smoke and explodes with a dull crack across the dark expanse of the horizon. Logan doesn’t care. He’s been alive long enough that any sense of wonder he had for them has just– dissipated.

Above them, fireworks continue to go off, flickering through the sky in bursts of bright, effervescent color.

Logan looks at her as she watches them. He thinks about the happy smile she’d given him when he’d agreed to this bullshit. He thinks about the corresponding warmth that had blossomed slowly in his chest somewhere between his ribs, and wonders, not for the first time, when everything had gotten so fucked.

  —————

They’re in a shitty roadside bar in Michigan and she’s kicking his ass at pool when he realizes he has a fucking problem.

They’ve been camped out for the last hour and a half, commandeering the pool table in the back corner of the bar surrounded by half-drunk wannabe-rednecks in sleeveless flannels and fourty-year-old men with beer bellies who pretty obviously peaked in high school. Logan’s had enough scotch to actually start feeling it, which has been getting easier and easier to accomplish as his fucking healing factor shuts down, or whatever, but that’s not what really matters. The buzzing inside of his head isn’t entirely because of the alcohol, anyway.

The girl– (Name)– is bent over the pool table lining up a shot, and his eyes make a slow sweep up her body almost without thinking about it, lingering over her legs and her ass and the slow sinuous curve of her spine and–

“I am… the best, ” she announces, pausing to make sure she’s succeeded in sinking the eight ball before gloating, “That’s two to one, against somebody who’s spent, what, twenty years doing nothing but bar hopping–”

Logan swallows, mouth feeling particularly dry, and finishes off the rest of his scotch.

“Shut up ,” he says, not really meaning it.

Their arms brush. Distantly, he can hear the low-pitched rumble of his own laughter. She’s saying something about a rematch and he can’t fucking say no to her because they’ve got time to kill and this is infinitely better than being stuck in another shitty motel room.

She’s moving around the table, collecting the pool balls to rack for their next match when somebody approaches her from the bar.

In hindsight, Logan should have fucking expected this. It’s a dive bar and half the men here are scum and the other half are just plain stupid, and she’s young, and attractive, easily the prettiest girl in the damn place– it shouldn’t be all that surprising that somebody else would notice that.

The guy– he’s tall. Reedy. Messy, dull hair and a shitty beard that’s patchy and frankly pathetic, like he made it through half of puberty before his body just fucking– gave up. He’s got sweat-stains on his faded Michigan University t-shirt and tobacco-stained teeth and Logan knows, logically, that she isn’t even remotely fucking interested, but–

That’s not what matters.

What matters is that this piece of shit had seen him, and her, and assumed that any sort of bullshit he planned on pulling would be perfectly okay, because there was no way that the two of them could ever be together, no, the guy hadn’t even bothered to fully look at Logan before dismissing him entirely.

And–

That makes him angry, even though he knows he’s got no right to be.

He comes up behind her. Curls his arm around her waist. He feels her stiffen and then relax into his side in less than a second, and a part of him wants to believe that the reaction is instinctive, natural, like she hadn’t even made the conscious decision to do it.

Logan grits his teeth and glares veritable daggers at the dirtbag leaning over her, and his anger must be palpable because the guy’s cocky, predatory smile withers and dies and he’s holding up his hands and walking away before Logan even has a chance to say anything to him.

She doesn’t move away. Instead, she leans into him, and lets out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, reaching down to squeeze his hand. Logan stiffens– even that little amount of contact is enough to make his pulse beat faster, stronger, louder.

“We should get out of here,” he says, voice low and slightly gravelly. The events that had just unfolded– they don’t feel real. Like he’s outside himself watching everything unfold through a telescope a million miles away. What the fuck is he doing?

He swallows.

The look she gives him is soft, and Logan wonders if she realizes what’s happening, if she even gets it, gets the nights in the hotels and the hours together driving and the fireworks and the fucking bar fight he’d been willing to start for her, gets what it all means when the incidents are lined up like that, one after another–

“Yeah,” she answers. “We should go.”

They wind up in another hotel with two six-packs of Logan’s favorite beer, and everything feels– off. Wrong. The silence is thick and there’s a thread of tension between them that hadn’t been there before.

Logan realizes he’s singlehandedly destroying the first good thing he’s had in forty years.

Fuck.

 —————

He has a plan. Get to Canada, get her somewhere safe, and then leave.

That doesn’t happen.

  —————

 The truck finally gives out in a tiny town called Paradise, on the very edge of Lake Huron.

It would be funny, he thinks, almost like fate, if he even believed in that sort of thing.

“Engine’s all overheated,” the mechanic explains, poking at a half-melted length of rubber piping. “See this? Coolant’s supposed to go through here, but it’s all fucked.”

Logan grits his teeth and crosses his arms and digs his nails into his palms with an unnecessary amount of violence. “Can you fix it?”

The mechanic runs grease-stained fingers through his hair and nods. “Yeah, I mean, next week , not, y’know, today.”

He babbles on about the shop missing the parts or some other bullshit, because apparently they don’t get much business in fucking-nowhere, Michigan– big surprise– and then he directs Logan and the girl to a small hotel by the shoreline that’s mostly empty, where they’ll apparently have to stay until the parts come in on Monday.

He checks in at the front desk and gets the keys from a sweet old lady who asks too many questions. Their room is small, and overly-decorated, with ocean-themed throw pillows scattered across a matching set of armchairs and a handful of seashell windchimes hanging out by the screened-in porch. It’s a nice place, better than where they’d been forced to stay before, but Logan doesn’t care. He just throws his bags onto a quilted starfish-patterned bedspread and collapses on top of it with a long, drawn-out sigh.

The girl is standing in the doorway, watching him.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

Logan grunts in affirmative and closes his eyes. He hears footsteps, steady and quiet against the plush carpet, and then a hand brushes across his forehead and it’s fucking ridiculous how quickly his pulse stutters and how sharp his sudden intake of breath sounds in his ears.

“No fever,” she says.

“‘s just the adamantium,” he grunts, except it isn’t.

She looks at him, and it’s suddenly so easy– too easy– for him to be angry. Irritated that when he looks back at her he can’t get a read on her, or her mood, or her intentions, can’t quite tell what she’s thinking.

He sits up, suddenly feeling suffocated. He’s tired of this– tired of fighting her and himself and tired of never being sure whether he’s winning or losing or just wasting time. Nothing makes sense anymore. It feels like he’s been knocked off-balance, like for some reason his center of gravity has shifted just enough to make his world spin around him and the only fucking thing he’s certain of anymore is his own denial. He’s never been good at confronting his emotions.

Logan stands up.

“I’m going out,” he says, tone clipped and short.

She doesn’t stop him.

Logan didn’t really expect her to.

  —————

She finds him a little over an hour later. It’s dusk– the sun has slipped down over the horizon, but there’s still just enough lingering light to give everything a soft, surreal sort of glow.

Logan’s clothes and shoes are stacked in a sandy heap up on the shoreline and he’s waded into the lake up to his waist, watching the fractured patterns of silver moonlight flicker over the surface, dizzyingly bright against the dark water.

“Hey.”

He says nothing. Her gaze moves slowly over the planes of his upper body–the scars and the burn marks and the bullet holes that never really healed right– and the expression on her face is something he only distantly recognizes. Their eyes meet, and she searches his face, studying him, and Logan can see the precise moment when she realizes, pieces together his evasion tactics and his silence and his jealousy and his perpetual anger–

Her expression softens.

She pulls her tank top up over her head in one slow, languid movement. Discards her shorts. Wades into the lake until she’s standing beside him, gentle waves lapping at her stomach. She skims her hands over the water, gently, lightly, never quite breaking the surface, and Logan watches with a sharp sort of intensity.

The tension feels different, tonight. It’s softer, but it’s also become that much harder to avoid.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he says in a gravelly whisper, before he can even think of stopping himself. His laugh is half bewildered and half angry, because he’s always, always angry. “You never fuckin’ know what you’re doing.”

She moves towards him. There’s the soft, lingering glide of her bare, wet skin against his as she traces the lines of the puckered, waxy scar he’d gotten on his left arm when he saved her life, and there’s the miniscule amount of space between them, hot and thick like the air inside of his shitty truck had been for the week since the AC blew out. None of this is new, not really, but it still feels different, this time.

“If I–” she pauses, swallows, and her pupils are dilated and nearly eclipsing her irises and Logan feels a sudden tightness in his gut, feels heat, feels anticipation and longing and a lot of fucking things, really, things he probably shouldn’t be feeling but feels anyway.

“If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

He stares at her.

(He hadn’t been expecting that. He should’ve, though. She’s never been one for subtlety.)

The effect it has on him is instant. It’s like being doused in cold water. The fire pooling in his stomach fizzles and dies and is abruptly replaced by the thousands of reasons why he can’t and shouldn’t and won’t. It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. He can’t just come waltzing into her fucking life and take a space that she should be saving for somebody else. For anyone else, really, for somebody who’s safer and kinder and better than him.

“(Name),” he warns, sharply. Abruptly.

End of conversation.

It isn’t really the end of it, though. She’s too fucking stubborn.

“Logan,” she retorts, moving closer. She reaches out to touch him again and he grabs her wrists before she can and fuck, he thinks, she’s looking at him like she already knows how he’ll react to everything that she’s saying and everything that she’s doing and he can’t help but wonder what the hell he’s managed to get himself into.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, hoarsely.

She doesn’t say anything. He can hear the gentle sound of the waves lapping up against them, the strange silence of the surrounding shoreline, can feel his own heartbeat perilously, traitorously loud inside his ribcage.

She’s waiting for him, he realizes. He’s waiting for him.

“Fuck,” he says.

He lets go of her wrists, registers her hands against his bare chest, warm and soft, and then he’s reaching out, cupping her face, tipping her chin up.

She moves up to meet him.

He kisses her slowly. Gently. His hands are shaking and she has her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and her body is pressed against his like it belongs there.

It’s easy. It’s so fucking easy. Weeks of constant tension dissolve like mist in the sunlight.

She’s the one who ends it.

“I’m going back to the hotel room,” she whispers, breath warm where his neck meets his shoulder. “Come with me?”

He breathes out, exhale shallow and shaky, but his eyes are steady on hers. Focused.

By the time they get back to the hotel, it’s dark, but that doesn’t matter.

The door closes with a soft click of rubber insulation against wood, and Logan looks at her, really looks at her, eyes roaming over her legs and her hips and her chest and her mouth, all the places he hadn’t allowed himself to notice until now.

The distance between them closes much more easily, much more quickly, this time.

“Never thought we’d do this,” he murmurs, and then corrects himself, “Never thought you’d want me to.”

Her laugh is soft. Disbelieving. She meets his eyes and leans up towards him and whispers, “That’s because you’re stupid”, and the words dissolve into his mouth as she kisses him– or maybe he kisses her, or maybe a little of both. It doesn’t matter, anyway, and Logan doesn’t care.

He frames her face with his hands and slants his mouth over hers and deepens the kiss, his tongue parting her lips and pushing in and scraping over her teeth, across the roof of her mouth– she tastes exactly how he imagined, exactly how he’d dreamed she would, sweet like chapstick and strawberries and so fucking perfect that for a moment he’s left wondering if this is even real. His hand is moving down from her face to the curve of her waist, fingers digging in, and he’s urging her closer until her body is pressed up so close to his that he can feel her heartbeat against his chest, the rapid rise-and-fall of her breathing as he keeps kissing her. Her hand wraps around the back of his neck and her teeth scrape over his bottom lip, half-smiling against his mouth when he makes a sound almost like a growl and kneads her hips, yanking her closer, moving one hand up under her half-damp tank top. Her skin is soft and warm under his calloused hands and fuck when he drags his thumb across her nipple through the sheer fabric of her bra she makes a noise like a sigh, or maybe a moan, shallow and soft, and rakes her nails down his arms–

It’s still not good enough.

He wants to touch her everywhere.

Logan yanks her tank top off, fabric clinging stubbornly to her still-wet skin, and then he fumbles with the clasp of her bra for a moment before discarding that, too. She’s beautiful, and he had known that, but it’s not the same– not when it’s like this, when he can so easily reach out and touch, and maybe he stares for a second or more than a second–

“Jesus,” he whispers, a little more frantic than intended, and almost immediately his mouth descends over the soft column of her throat and then down to her collarbones, her breasts, kissing every inch of skin he can reach with a sort of reverence he hadn’t known he was capable of. She leans into the feeling of his mouth, gasps out his name in a breathless, needy way that hits him hard, makes his cock ache in the rough confines of his boxers as he sucks a bruise into her skin where her shoulder meets her neck– half because he wants to and half because it’s proof that this is real.

In the back of his mind, he thinks of all the ways he could talk himself out of this, all the countless reasons why he shouldn’t let this get any worse or any more permanent, but he finds that he doesn’t care. She kisses him and he tugs her closer, a low groan vibrating somewhere in his throat at how effortlessly her body fits against his.

She’s the one who pulls him towards the bed.

“Come on, Logan,” she says, and it’s probably supposed to sound teasing, sarcastic, defiant, even, but mostly it just sounds breathless. There’s a bruise blossoming on her neck and her mouth is swollen and red, and Logan stops and stares and the only thing he can think is I did that, I did that to her, I kissed her–

“Fuck,” he bites out, the noise low and unsurprisingly aggressive.

He hears the rustle of the comforter against the mattress as she moves onto it, and he follows, wrenches his shirt up over his head and tosses it to the floor and then easily pushes her legs apart to take the space between them. Her nails dig  into his shoulders, not enough to really hurt, and she drags him down into another kiss, the movement of her mouth against his mirroring the slow, languid roll of her hips–

“Get your clothes off, c’mon,” he mutters, half pleading, biting her bottom lip just hard enough to make her gasp against his mouth and relishing in how she reacts to him, honest and real in a way he hadn’t expected.

Her shorts are off before he even has time to think about what he’s doing, and then her underwear, too, joining his shirt in a messy, haphazard pile of clothing on the floor, and he’s looking at her and she’s staring right back and the sudden rush of vulnerability he feels is almost enough to make him wonder if this was a mistake. It’s fucking stupid, he thinks, because he’s still got half his goddamn clothes on, why does he feel so exposed ?

But–

Still.

His breathing is ragged. His pulse is thundering. The air is thick with something that feels like static electricity, sharp and heavy, like in the moments before a storm. His eyes rake up her body almost of their own volition, taking in the swell of her breasts and the curve of her stomach and then trailing down, down–

“Logan,” she mutters, squirming under the heat of his gaze, and any hint of defiance is gone at this point, replaced by pent-up, repressed longing, and it suddenly clicks that this entire fucking thing had never been one-sided. It had never just been him, she had watched and waited and wanted him too, and–

“(Name),” he rasps, not sure if he had even meant to say it out loud, and then he’s undoing his belt and fumbling with the button on his jeans, discarding his clothes in a bundle and closing the space between them with a newfound desperation.

She leans up and meets him halfway, and the kiss is frantic and messy and perfect. His weight pins her down to the bed and his desire is all-consuming, white-hot in the pit of his stomach as she rocks up against him, the friction making him groan. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s wanted something this badly, and the feeling of her bare skin is like a fucking drug. His hand slips down her stomach, moves in between her thighs, and she’s wet, fuck, his fingers are slick against her skin and when he touches her she chokes out a soft, trembling moan, and he realizes distantly that he’s so fucking hard it hurts–

“Logan,” she whispers, a little desperately, rocking her hips up into his hand, looking for friction, and his breath just fucking falters, shit, the arm supporting his weight on the bed is trembling and he can’t think of anything he wants more in this moment than her.

“Jesus,” he groans, pressing a finger inside of her and curling it up, and her answering moan is needy and helpless and when he starts to fuck her with his fingers she fucking melts underneath him in the best way–

“Stop fucking– teasing,” she says, trying to sound irritated but failing miserably as her voice wavers and dissolves into a moan.

Logan exhales shakily. He stops touching her.

They’re both aware of it, he knows, his cock pressed up against the inside of her thigh, hot and hard and insistent, and then she rocks her hips up against him and he groans, the sound frantic, desperate, dragging her into a kiss–

He thrusts into her in one fluid motion.

“Ah– fuck,” he groans, against her open, waiting mouth, eyes closed and face tense and the muscles in his arms and upper back strung taut, tense with the effort of holding himself still.

There’s a moment of silence– a moment of stillness– that’s strangely intimate, warm and familiar and right, his breathing ragged and unsteady against her neck as he struggles to hold on to the quickly-fading remains of his self-control.

Logan moves slowly.

Her answering moan is soft and the warmth of their combined body heat is heady and suffocating–sweat beads on his forehead and her breath ghosts hot across his collarbones as he moves and as she rolls her hips up to meet him. His forehead is pressed against hers and their noses are bumping as he kisses her, open-mouthed and messy, catching her gasp and his answering groan as she tightens around him, hot and wet and perfect. The way she drags her palms down his chest and across the wide expanse of his shoulders is desperate, almost like she’s looking for something to hold on to as he thrusts in a little harder, watches, seemingly entranced, as his cock moves, in down to the base until their hips are pressed together and then back again.

Logan ,” she moans, biting into the tight, sinewy curve of his shoulder just enough to make him groan, and make his rhythm stutter, and make his hips snap forward hard, and whatever he was going to say in response is replaced with a desperate, needy growl at the way she moans with the rock of his body. A shiver trembles down her spine, liquid and involuntary, and he can feel the way her muscles tighten around his cock, can hear the creaking of the bedsprings and the sharp, ragged sounds of his own breathing and nothing else really seems to matter except what’s happening right then. He doesn’t care about the past, or the future, or anything except the way she melts when he kisses her and how she arches her hips to meet his and moans into his mouth at the feeling, simultaneously overwhelmed and wanting more–

He snaps his hips forwards and he watches her tremble, watches her mouth part for a gasp and how she never stops looking at him, not even for a second. Her eyes are bright, clear and warm, and Logan wonders if she’s always looked at him like that, if maybe he just never noticed.

“I– fuck, fuck, I’m–” she gasps, tripping over the words, a little desperate and a lot frantic as she grinds up against him, one hand tangled in his hair and the other somewhere on the expanse of his shoulder, reaching for purchase, something to hold on to–

He’s acutely aware of her body pressed up against his own, slick with sweat and incredibly fucking warm, her face buried in his shoulder and her breath hot against his skin and her body soft and pliant and perfect underneath him. Everything about this is driving him fucking crazy and he’s wanted it for so long that it’s hard to focus, that everything else is a colorless, meaningless blur in the background and all he can see is her, back arching and muscles tensing and calling out his name as she comes.

And it’s fucking beautiful, and perfect, and exactly how he imagined while also being so much better. She trembles and tightens around him in the most delicious way and the moan she releases is wonderfully helpless and whatever remaining scraps of decorum he had left just fucking dissolve. His thrusts become erratic, his rhythm falters and he realizes, distantly, that he’s not going to last much longer as she rocks against him until he can barely think straight.

“(Name),” he mutters, and chokes out a curse, buries his face in her shoulder and relishes in it, in the closeness and the shared body heat and the feeling of being here, with her, like this, until his body falters and his weight comes down onto his forearms and his orgasm is wrenched through him like a fucking revelation.

And then it’s over.

He doesn’t move for a long moment. She doesn’t make him. Nothing seems to matter anymore except the warmth of where their bodies are still joined, the sound of their combined breathing, and the ache of the emotions they had unleashed on one another. It’s a brief moment of peace for him, and he thinks she must feel the same.

“You can get off of me now,” she complains, softly. Breathlessly. Logan huffs out a laugh, deep and warm, and moves away. He hesitates, only for a second, before pulling her to his bare chest with his hand curled over her hip.

The silence isn’t as suffocating as he’d expected. It’s almost– comfortable.

“Dumbass,” she says. There’s an honest sort of affection in her voice, as she throws an arm over his chest and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, sleepy and sated and not really meaning it at all.

  —————

He goes up to Canada. Brings her back to a house he hasn’t been to in years, nestled comfortably in the mountains under the shade of a forest of pine trees. The last time he was here, he was still mostly human; no adamantium. Just bone. The house is empty, but he still owns it, technically.

The first thing she asks him after getting unpacked is if he’s going to stay. He expected the question, but answering it is still hard, the word catching somewhere in his throat just below his voice box.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I think so.”

anonymous asked:

Hi can you help me find this fic? It's about Stiles and Derek having one night stand. Stiles wakes up before Derek and tries to leave but Derek wakes up (half asleep) an tells Stiles that he's pretty and that he should stay. Stiles stays. ☺️

That could honestly be one of a million fics bb, lol!  Do you remember anything else?  In the meantime, here’s a Sterek centric update of the One Night Stand tag.   -Emmy

Originally posted by jashuehdz

Manly Man by baeberiibungh 

(1,346 I Explicit I Complete)

Derek blinks at the small shelf behind the mirror. His eye twitches. What a douche.

Put That Body On Me by brokenpromisesandhope 

(1,946 I Explicit I Complete)   *college student!stiles

Stiles meets a beautiful man at the bar and they have super hot sex.

Hypnotic Taking Over Me by Lexatomic 

(1,973 I Explicit I Complete)

When Derek Hale allows himself to have a little fun at a party, Stiles can’t help but stare. The alcohol, the loud music and the warm tension in the air, those probably are the reasons why they end up having sex in Derek’s bed. Probably.

or

That one night stand they will probably never forget.

One More Night by brokenpromisesandhope 

(2,265 I Explicit I Complete)  *also derek/ofc, stiles/omc, other infidelity (not Derek or Stiles)

Stiles and Derek both just got broken up with.. what are they to do.

The Pickup Line I Deserve by hannah_baker 

(4,227 I Explicit I Complete)

Derek Hale has a type: tall, lanky, pale, brunette, passive. Stiles Stilinski is nearly all of those things - but not quite.

Or, The Time Derek Hale’s One Night Stand Was More Than He Bargained For.

A Broken Heart is Blind by orphan_account 

(5,327 I Mature I Complete)  *college au

College AU - When Lydia dumps Stiles to get back with Jackson, Stiles rebounds with Derek, his former TA. It was just supposed to be a one night stand, but they’re both a little confused about what the rules for those are.

Savannah by SlipOfAScribe 

(5,757 I Explicit I Complete)

Stiles has had it with bad relationships. Tonight he’s just going to find the best sex of his life and that’s it! Until, that is, Tall Dark and Handsome comes along and ruins it all.

Inspired by The Clicks “Savannah”

Dance on the Edge by redeyedwrath

(6,076 I Explicit I Complete)  *teacher!stiles

“He isn’t even aware he’s staring until the guy turns that glare to him and Stiles can instantly feel his dick grow hard. Seriously, fear boners are a thing. He has the evidence in his too tight skinny jeans.”

Or, in which Stiles has a one night stand to get over Lydia and falls in love. Yeah. Nice.

Unmade Plans by manicSaturday 

(16,699 I Explicit I Complete)  *mpreg

Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it. Who was the fucking genius that said that? Because right now, Stiles is flipping out of his mind.

Or the one where Stiles and Derek’s one-night stand turns into late night rendezvous, Friday night movies, a special surprise and maybe a happy ending… yep, definitely a happy ending. I’m not that cruel.

Destiny Knows by TaliskerMortem 

(22,523 I Not Rated I WIP)  *accidental knotting

 It was supposed to be just an ordinary one-night stand. A quick tumble in the sheets and then good-bye. Derek’s wolf however, had other plans.

OR: The one in which Derek and Stiles do the do and a certain part of Derek’s wolfish anatomy decides they should be bonded for life.

Pretty Melody by thepsychicclam 

(30,501 I Explicit I Complete)  *musician!derek, bartender!stiles

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek in six years, so when he shows up at the bar where Stiles works, claiming to be some indie rock star, Stiles can’t believe it. Stiles has even more trouble believing that he and Derek are about to have a one night stand.

Soon one night turns into two and three, and seeing Derek causes old wounds to open for Stiles. As Stiles reconnects with Derek, he finds himself painting things he’s been avoiding, and he thinks maybe he’ll finally start to heal.

I’m a Believer by LittleLynn

(41,721 I Explicit I Complete)

Stiles’ one night stand turns out to be a lot more than he bargained for. Not that he minds, like, at all.

All the times Steve nearly kissed Tony

More Avengers Assemble fluff, because AA really is the good verse <3
This can be read as a continuation to Touch if you like.


The first time Steve nearly kissed Tony was during a team movie night. Tony had, as usual, curled up on the sofa next to Steve and promptly fallen asleep on his shoulder. Any attempts to move or readjust him where met with the sort of whining growls one usually heard from a particularly grumpy cat, so Steve decided against antagonizing him further.

They and the rest of the team had been watching Some Like It Hot. The 20s setting had made Steve nostalgic, but the charming comedy of errors had made him laugh out loud. And that Marilyn Monroe - she really was something, he’d said to Clint, who had enthusiastically agreed.

After the movie had ended and the team had departed to go to bed, Steve gently nudged Tony. “Hey, sleepy,” he’d said softly. “You missed the movie.”

Tony looked up from Steve’s shoulder and opened one eye. “Worth it,” he said with a dozy smile. “You’re very comfy.”

For a moment, their eyes met, and Steve realized that he could lean forward a few inches, turn his head, and brush their lips together.

Just as Steve was wondering where that thought came from and what he should do about it, Tony snuggled his face back into Steve’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

Huh, thought Steve. That was odd.

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