i'm going to leave it here and laugh at it later in life

Reunion

“You grew up.”

He laughs, rough and edging just slightly on bitter.

“Yeah, that happens when you disappear for two years.”

Derek’s eyes flit downward, and Stiles waits for him to comment on the FBI vest strapped to his chest but he doesn’t. His eyes only go so far as Stiles’ mouth, flicking back to his eyes and then down again, lingering, before sliding away. A warmth blooms out from Stiles’ chest, crawling up his neck and coiling downward, and this definitely isn’t the time for this but they haven’t seen each other in a year and a half, not even pictures because why the hell would Stiles have a picture of Derek (and he’s spent too long cursing not having pictures of Derek) and he finds his own eyes lingering.

“…You look exactly the same.” And that’s not true because Derek actually looks better, but there’s no real way to explain that Stiles hadn’t been able to hold all of the goddamn perfection of Derek’s face in his memory. He’d thought he had, but his eyes keep flitting around now and holding, catching on little details, little rushes of rediscovery in those eyes, that jaw, his teeth, his mouth, his…

Stiles wets his lips, and Derek’s looking again.

“We should––”

“I should have called,” Derek says at the same time, and Stiles blinks, breaking off, confusion pinching his brows because Derek hadn’t known Stiles was coming. He’d had no reason to call. Except… “After… Peter told me what happened, and I…”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but it wasn’t any less fine than anything else from that shit show. It wasn’t any worse than Derek leaving town and getting rid of his phone to begin with.

“I felt sick the whole time you were gone,” Derek presses on, quick and urgent, like the words had been fighting for months to bubble loose and are finally breaking free. “I felt… Cora said it seemed like I’d just… emptied out. On the full moon, I could barely––”

Stop it.” It stung, because he’d thought Derek would care. For the longest time he’d felt like Derek should care, and deciding he didn’t was the first stepping stone to pulling himself together after… after the Benefactor.

Or… fuck, maybe Derek had cared, but he hadn’t cared enough to stay, to keep in contact, to check in when Stiles had needed… needed someone.

No, fuck. Needed him.

“This isn’t the time,” he says, firmly, because a fucking FBI SWAT team is nearby somewhere and there’s still a target painted on Derek’s back, and the fact that Stiles wants to crawl onto his lap and beat the crap out of him at the same time doesn’t matter, because Stiles is here to save his life. Again.

Derek parts his lips, looks like he wants to argue… and ends up just nodding, looking away up the street.

Stiles makes it a whole three steps toward the next corner before swinging back on him, balled fist smacking his bicep.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Derek doesn’t flinch at the blow. Sighs softly. When he meets Stiles’ eyes, the look in them’s enough to send months of coiled anger scattering.

“I would have gone back.”

“…What?” Stiles feels breathless on the word. Derek looks away, hands lost in the depths of his pockets and stance set in the defeated posture of a man with no way to win.

“If I’d heard your voice. If you’d asked. If you’d even sounded anything less than happy––” He grits his teeth, sharp and sudden, head ducking against some ugly thought. “…And I didn’t want to hear you happy, either.” That falls out lower, tight and rough like a secret shame.

“You didn’t want to hear me happy,” Stiles echoes, numb, and then slowly: “Without you.”

And he only understands Derek’s meaning because it’s been echoing in his own chest for over a year–– that stupid, selfish war of wanting to know he’s happy, and not wanting to know he’s happy, not wanting to hear him making a life and finding bliss in a way Stiles couldn’t give him. He’d always wanted to know Derek was doing well, so much that he’d lain up at night sometimes picturing new, bright, sometimes ridiculously corny futures for him… but the thought had always been as agonizing as it was hopeful and Stiles had never slept well afterward. And then he’d spent other nights up hating himself for being selfish enough to half-hope Derek might not be happy.

Might fail out there in the world, and come home.

Derek’s eyes are on his again, wide and shock-soft in a way Stiles had only glimpsed on him once before: the rush of thinking you’re alone in the world and realizing for one beautiful instant that you’re understood

He can feel a matching expression lighting up his own eyes.

“We’re idiots,” he breathes, and Derek shakes his head, barely seeming to feel the movement.

“I couldn’t go back there.”

“But you could have known I fucking missed you as much as––” He breaks off, despite everything suddenly unsure. “…you missed me?”

“I missed you.” Derek promises, not missing a beat.

“You missed me,” Stiles echoes, and it’s everything he never knew he needed to hear. They watch each other for too long, stunned, awed stillness.

And then the slam of a car door in the distance pulls them back; reminds them where they are and what’s happening. Derek blinks away, looking out and alert toward the street, but Stiles can see a faint flush around his ears, a happy pull that won’t quite die on his lips.

“This isn’t the time,” Derek says, and Stiles nods. There are villains to stop. People to save.

“This isn’t the time,” he echoes, but he’s smiling as he turns to head up the street. “Later.”

It sounds like a promise worth keeping.

Fall For You (M) | 03 (Final)

gif ©

Summary: You hate a lot of things about Jeon Jungkook; you hate his arrogance, his reputation, and his pet name for you to name a few. But most of all, you hate how right it feels for you to fall into his arms, and how easy it is to fall for him.
Word Count: 13,742
Genre: fuckboy!Jungkook, college au, sprinkling of feelings
A/N: I feel like I’m sending my child to their first day of kindergarten oh my goodness. I hope you guys enjoy the last part!!

Part 01. Part 02 + Drabbles

Mood music: X

A mistake.

It absolutely had to be a mistake.

There was no way you were in love with Jeon Jungkook, absolutely no way in hell you had feelings for him that ran any deeper than discontent. It had been the moment, the conversation with Jungkook, the awe you’d felt when he showed you his forest. You had gotten caught up in that moment, and your mind had tricked itself into thinking you liked Jungkook.

You didn’t love Jungkook.

You loved his dick. And that was all.

Keep reading

alec had to admit, when magnus casually mentioned that alec should show him a few things about archery on a sunny tuesday morning in the target range of the institute, alec had felt a kind of smug pride burn in his chest. the sunlight had been filtering through the windows, catching bits of dust and catching at the tips of magnus’s spiked up hair and he looked… breathtaking. but more than that there was this amused kind of darkness around his eyes as he said it so casually, while alec still had an arrow nocked.

“what do you say?” magnus had finished with, tipping his head to the side slightly, leaning against one of the pillars. and alec was pretty sure his grin was blinding as he eagerly responded.

“i’d love to.”

maybe if he hadn’t been so smug he would have seen the mirth twinkling in magnus’s eyes but instead his pride eclipsed him and he turned back to the target, letting his arrow fly. it hit dead center and at that moment he felt entirely invincible if he was honest with himself.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey! From that huge au list that you said you were accepting prompts on, could you possibly do stucky, the "I hit you with my car and I'm the only one who visited at the hospital, you okay?" with steve being the one hit by the car? It's a sick day for me and it feels like I've exhausted all good fanfiction... you're my only hope!

“Which flower arrangement says ‘I’m very sorry for running you over in my car’?” Bucky asks into his phone, frantically looking between an arrangement with tulips and an orchid.

There’s a long pause, then Natasha asks very level, very calm, “James?”

“Yes?”

“What did you do?” she asks in that same, calm voice.

“I RAN SOMEONE OVER WITH MY CAR,” Bucky yells. “I JUST SAID THAT.”

“Excuse me sir,” says the little old woman shopping next to him.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for yelling,” Bucky says. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, no, dear, that’s not the issue,” she says.

“Oh, then am I in your way?” he asks.

“No, it’s just that I’m about to leave the store, and drive home. I’m hoping that you’ll give me a few minutes’ head start before you leave, too.”

He nods and smiles at the old lady, then goes back to his phone. “I wish I were dead,” he says, still smiling.

“Daffodils are nice,” Natasha says.

— —

It’s probably presumptuous to go visit the guy you hit with your cat in the hospital and Bucky’s pretty sure that if his insurance company knew about Bucky going over there they’d be pissed, but you can’t just run someone over with your car and not visit them in the hospital. That’d just be bad form.

Bad form like not stopping all the way at a stop sign and grazing the pedestrian who is crossing the street.

He knocks on the door. “Uh, hi,” he says, looking at the guy laying in bed.

The guy sits up a little, then winces. “Hi,” he says. “You lost?”

“No, at least… I don’t think so. You’re Steve Rogers?” The guy nods. “Okay, well, I’m Bucky Barnes and I maybe sort of hit you with my car,” he says, hiding behind the bouquet of daffodils a little. He peeks out from behind it. “Sorry about that,” he adds.

The guy snorts. “Believe it or not, it’s not the first time I’ve been hit by a car,” he says, “and you just tapped me.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even be in here if it weren’t for my pre-existing conditions.” He perks up a little. “Are those for me?” he asks, looking at the flowers.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, walking forward towards the bed and holding the flowers out to Steve. “They are! They’re… daffodils.”

“I’m horribly allergic,” Steve says, grinning. “Gimme.”

“But you’re—“

“Already in the hospital,” Steve says, taking the flowers and smelling them. The yellow looks nice with his soft blond hair and it’s kind of cute when his thick black frame glasses slip down his nose while he sniffs. “Wow! These are great.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Bucky says, trying not to blush because the guy he ran over with his car is really stinking cute.

“Thanks for coming,” Steve says.

“Oh, uh,” Bucky says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was the least I could do.”

“I’m I the hospital so much that my friends don’t even notice at this point, so it’s nice to have some company.” He’s still holding the flowers, and looks down at them again like he can’t believe he really has them, and Bucky wonders why his friends wouldn’t come visit him in the hospital when he is obviously the most adorable dork in all of New York City. He looks back up at Bucky. “You want some pudding?” he asks. “I have some extra.”

— —

Two years later and Steve feeds Bucky a spoonful of pudding. “Yum,” Bucky says, smacking his lips together.

“I can’t believe you convinced the caterers to serve pudding,” Steve says, grinning.

“You know how some couples have special songs or places?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he says.

“Well, our dessert is pudding,” he says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe you,” Steve says.

“And I still can’t believe that you agreed to marry some guy who ran you over with his car,” Bucky says.

Steve shrugs. “You didn’t have enough money to be worth suing,” he says. “And,” he adds, “you only grazed me.”

Bucky grins, leans in and kisses his new husband.

“And you grazed me with your love,” he says. “Same thing.”

“Not at all!” Steve squeaks and Bucky laughs and around them their friends and family dance awkwardly to a mediocre DJ and they’re husbands now, and Bucky will never, ever, run over anyone else for the rest of his life.

First time ... Sleeping

HC: The first time Victor slept with Yuuri, it was because he had fallen asleep on the man’s chest.

It had been a long day of practice at the Ice Castle, and both of them were exhausted. Yuuri had dropped down onto Victor’s bed, with the intention of watching the video that the Russian had taken that day so they could go over what Yuuri needed to work on.

Having been the first out of the hot spring, he was wearing his soft cotton pjs and was waiting for his couch / not sure yet if we’re boyfriends (Post-CoC) to return from the bathroom.

When Victor entered, he was only wearing a pair of the inn’s comfortable, soft green pants, as he looked at his stufent who was laying on his back, watching the video on his phone.

When Yuuri noticed Victor standing there, staring at him with a small smile, and a wishful expression, he stopped the video, put his phone aside, and opened his arms wide as an invention for the silver haired man.

Victor didn’t think twice to dive into those waiting arms, and wrap his own around the smaller man’s mid-section. He nuzzled his face into Yuuri’s chest, which elicited a small laugh, and heaved a heavy sigh of contentment.

They talked briefly of their day, but soon, Victor’s eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, he was fast, and sound asleep.

Yuuri, who had been gently running his fingers through that beautiful soft hair, noticed when the love of his life drifted off to sleep, and with a smile planted a gentle kiss on that little whorl on the top of his head.

Laying still, so as not to disturb the sleeping Russian, Yuuri wondered if he would be able to reach the blanket that had been tossed aside from that morning. Unfortunately it was just out of reach, and so reluctantly he figured he’d just have to do his best at keeping the man on top of him warm on his own. That was until his sister knocked, and opened the door.

Holding some extra sheets, she raised at eyebrow at her brother holding his coach, who was laying on top of him,  but then she smirked as she leaned against the door.

“Comfy?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, actually.” Yuuri whispered as he hugged Victor just a tiny bit more.

“I’ll just leave these here then, you might need them later,” Mari teased.

Yuuri felt as his cheeks turned pink, but didn’t justify her comment with a response.

As she was about to leave, he called out to her quietly. “Mari?” She turned back to him, as she waited for him to continue. “Would you help me get the cover?” he asked.

She looked over at his dilemma and nodded.

Gently she lifted Victor’s feet as they were laying on the top of the blankets at the end of the bed, then she pulled them over the Russian and her brother, essentially tucking them in.

Yuuri whispered his thanks as he got more comfortable, Mari pushed the other pillow closer to him. With a small smile, she turned the light out and gently closed the door.

Not long after Yuuri fell asleep, Victor still covering his body, Yuuri’s fingers still in his coach’s hair, while his other hand wrapped around the man’s body.

Many hours later, an hour before dawn broke over the horizon, Victor slowly woke up feeling warm, and very relaxed.

The first thing he noticed was how good he felt. Then he realized that the pillow beneath his head moved in a steady pattern, and sounded like the most peaceful drum.

Opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings. He was laying in his bed, covered by his blanket, on top of Yuuri.

He was in his bed, wrapped in the arms of the man who made his the happiest he’s ever felt.

He was in bed, with Yuuri.

He slept with Yuuri

When the thought penetrated his sleep addled mind, he grinned so hard, his cheeks hurt, and his eyes stung from the tears that threatened to fall.

He turned his face, gently pressing his nose into the soft fabric of the Yuuri’s top, as his happiness washed over his mind and body. His arms, that were still wrapped around the other man’s waist, squeezed just a little tighter, and a tiny laugh escaped his lips.

His movements must have woken the smaller man, as he felt the body beneath him shift and move. He looked up just in time to see brown eyes just opening as they looked at him.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri’s soft voice asked.

“Just really happy,” Victor responded honestly.

Yuuri hummed his approval, and gave the Russian a gentle squeeze.

“That’s good,” he said with a yawn. “Is it time to get up?”

“No,” Victor responded. He didn’t really care what time it was, at that moment, he wasn’t getting out of bed for anything.

“Okay. …. Go back to sleep then,” Yuuri said before he placed a soft kiss on the top of Victor’s head. Within moments, the Japanese man was back to sleep.

Victor couldn’t even respond he was too happy, he only hoped that the dawn would take it’s time, and allow him more time to finally sleep with Yuuri.

anonymous asked:

I read that one post in your gods and monsters series and I love it. But there's an area in one of the stories that says "Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to Olympus and makes an even worse one." My curiosity is getting the better of me so WHAT WERE THE BARGAINS I NEED TO KNOW

From my Gods and Monsters Series, Part XIV: The Gods Are Dead

Demeter rages.

She makes imprudent deals to control an earth that no longer falls under her domain, and she enacts her revenge against the mortals in whatever way she can. They have forgotten her, forgotten the earth, and in their ignorance they seek to destroy it.

She shakes the bedrock and splits it open, but still they do not learn, and as the temperature of the earth rises so does her temper.

The sea is not hers to command, her power is of earth and of earth alone, and even now she gave more than could afford to lose to keep her grasp on it. But these mortals do not learn.

Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to the crumbling remains of Olympus and makes an even worse one.

Typhoons and hurricanes whip across the land. If they seek to destroy her, she will simply destroy them first.


Demeter’s skin used to be dark.

It was the rich brown of potting soil, it was the fertile black earth that washed up from the Nile River. Her skin was deep, life-giving brown.

It’s not like that now.

It’s pale desert sand, cracks all along it like baked earth and tree roots searching for water that they can’t find. Her hair hangs thin and grey against her temple, and her dark eyes have turned milky.

She clings to her power over the earth by her fingertips, and she knows that she’s just delaying the inevitable. There’s no coming back from this, no really, the strings of her fate have long been woven. But she will not go quietly. The mortals may take the earth from her grasp, but she’s never been one to cross lightly. She still isn’t.

Demeter goes to the sea. She hasn’t dared step foot in there since her birth, but now she has so little left to lose. The water’s barely to her knees before a wave rises up from the smooth ocean and drags her below.

“Well, well,” Amphitrite says, circling her with curious green eyes, “Time has not been kind to you, I see.”

“It has to you,” she says tightly. Amphitrite looks the same as she saw her last, has aged even better the goddesses who shed their mantels of power the moment they became too heavy. Then again, Demeter expected nothing less. “I want to make a deal.”

“You have nothing I desire, Sister,” she says, smiling even though it feels like she’s mocking her.

Demeter almost laughs – oh, if they could see them know, if Hera or Hestia could see them now, see her now. “I have this.” She cuts open her chest and pulls out her heart – rich red, a heart that has not failed her, a heart that can feel love and pain and desire and fear and happiness.

“Sister,” she whispers, eyes wide, “what are you–”

“I already know I don’t get to see how this ends,” she says, “Give me your heart, give me power over the sea, and I will grant you a heart with the capacity to feel all the emotions you are so fond of.”

The queen of the sea shakes her head, “Don’t do this, you don’t need to do this.”

“I am Gaia,” she says, hard, speaking a name she hasn’t used in a long, long time. “I am Mother Goddess to all, the first to walk this plain, and your elder sister. I will do as I please.” They call her Demeter. She was born Demeter. But she was something else, something far greater, before she risked it all to be born a lowly goddess. “I gambled, and I lost this game. But I will not go out without a fight.”

“You were second to walk this plain, technically,” Amphitrite says softly, “Thinking this was a game was your first mistake. He never thought of it that way.”

She’s about to snap at her, then Amphitrite cuts open her chest and takes out her cold, dark heart. She slips her heart into her sister’s chest, and Demeter does the same. Demeter feels what little grasp on humanity she’d managed to maintain drain away even as a pink flush comes to Amphitrite’s cheeks and a smile tugs on her lips.

She can feel the power of the current beneath her, the water eager and ready to do her bidding. “Use it well,” Demeter tells Amphitrite, Gaia tells her little sister, before using the water to carry her far from there.

She climbs the steps to what remains of Olympus.

Only Zeus remains, skin and bones and sunken eyes. He maintains authority over the skies even though it’s killing him. He’ll maintain authority over it until it kills him.

She needs that power.

She doesn’t care if it kills her.

“My king,” she murmurs, kneeling before his crumbling throne. Their once great pantheon lies around them as rubble.

He almost meets her eyes, copper skin now sallow and black hair now almost white. “She left,” he tells her, high pitched and something terrifying in the edges of his eyes, “She left me – she was never supposed to leave me.” He reaches out and grabs her shoulder, bony hand surprisingly strong, “I miss her.”

Demeter only has one thing left to trade for Zeus’s power.

“Give me what our mother Rhea gave you,” she says softly, “Give it to me, and I will stay on Olympus and you can go to her.”

“There must always be one on Olympus,” he tells her. She doesn’t think he recognizes her. “As long as I am on Olympus, we’ll be fine. He can’t do anything if I’m here, as long as one of us is here. I am here.” His face crumples. “She’s not here. She was supposed to be here. I did not want to be alone.”

“Give it to me,” she repeats, firmer. “What did mother give you, Zeus? What do I need to take?”

“You can’t take it!” he screeches, scrambling back and away from her. “You can’t have it! I need it! Mother gave it to me, said I had to keep it safe, said I had to stay on Olympus. You can’t have it!”

Demeter growls and grabs the front of his too-big robes, pulling him upright, getting ready to yell at him.

Then she sees it.

Less than an hour later, Zeus takes hobbling, slow steps down Mount Olympus.

Demeter sits on the abandoned, crumbling throne and curls her lips into a cruel grin.

She has dominion over earth, over water, and over air.

She will make these mortals beg for mercy before they kill her – Gaia, Mother to All, Earth Goddess.

happy haikyuu!! fic recs

under the cut is a list of fics that folks in the haikyuu fandom read to remind themselves that there is good in the world.  i hope that the list can help spread some positive energy during this tough time.  thank you to everyone who gave me suggestions and helped to put the list together!

fics are arranged by ship and include ao3 link, author, length, and summary.  please let me know if one of your fics is on this list but your tumblr/twitter/etc isn’t linked, and i can add it.

kagehina:

  • I like the way your clothes smell by @mysecretfanmoments; kagehina; 75k; ‘Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio’s part. He’d planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.’ 
  • Painting with Words series by iwillstillopenthewindow; kagehina; 11k; 2 fics; ‘Where Hinata has trouble writing and Kageyama has difficulty seeing the world in color again.’ 
  • Hinata is a middle aged cougar at age sixteen the fanfiction by pittoo; 2k; ‘Kageyama just wants to mow hay’
  • kisses by buu; 4k; ‘There’s a blur and Hinata remembers warm lips, surprisingly soft from someone who frowns all the time, and Kageyama’s terrified face when he pulls back, and the electricity running through Hinata’s entire body, heating his cheeks to match Kageyama’s. / Kissing, it turns out, is as good as volleyball.’
  • Ridiculous by @festivetrickster; kagehina ft yachi; 3.5k; ‘After Yachi’s heater broke at her own apartment, Hinata and Kageyama invite her to stay at theirs until it gets fixed. Only, the problem is: 1) the repairman is never going to come, 2) temporarily living with Hinata and Kageyama is …stressful, to say the least.’
  •    maps, from me to you by tothemoon; kagehina; 10k; ‘This is a (non-chronological) account of the memories they make out of millimeters.’
  • let’s do it like they do on the infomercial channel by @kiribakus; 2k; ‘kageyama opened the door and hinata was blinded by the sheer force of his rock hard abs. / “wtf dude ur like 12,” hinata said.’
  • love and now by @plotghosts; kagehina; 16k; ‘After their break-up three years prior, Hinata attends Kageyama’s final university match.’
  • A Couple of Awesome Players by Esselle; gen kagehina; 3k; ‘Shouyou meets volleyball and Kageyama at roughly the same time—during his first year of middle school.’
  • Paws for a Second by LemonNinjaa; kagehina; 3k; ‘Daichi decides that working on teamwork is important, and Hinata volunteers Kageyama’s house. Little does Karasuno know that Kageyama has two fluffy secrets.’ 

daisuga: 

  • You’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder; daisuga; 25k; ‘Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.’
  • pride by @owlinaminor; daichi genfic ft. daisuga; 4k; ‘Daichi knows that Hinata accidentally called him ‘Dad’ once, and Suga often teases him about parenting the first-years, but this is just ridiculous. / “I’m not your dad, I’m your captain!” Daichi protests. / The cheering only increases in volume. They’re probably disturbing anyone who’s still at the school – but then, it’s New Year’s Eve. Nobody is still at the school besides Daichi’s insane, ridiculous, wonderful team. / “Okay, fine,” he says at last, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m proud to be your dad.”’
  • Perfectionism by @mysecretfanmoments; daisuga; 3k; ‘“I just wish it was something you could practice before you have to… perform.” He narrows his eyes, imagining it. “Like a CPR class.” / Suga raises an eyebrow. “You want to practice it. Beforehand.” / “Yeah. Are you offering?” / ((Daichi doesn’t like to be bad at things–kissing included–and Suga is willing to help him practice.))’
  • the perfect stranger by @downmoonwrites; daisuga; 26k; ‘There’s a man standing outside Suga’s door. / Scratch that. Start over. / There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.’
  • Black and Blue by @makariawritesabout; daisuga; 117k; Daichi’s new (temporary) neighbor is not only stunningly beautiful but also funny, friendly, with just a touch of mysterious. / Naturally, Daichi freaks the fuck out. / (AU where everyone lives in the same building and everyone is gay)’ 
  • Add New Contact by booksong; daisuga; 9k; ‘"Daichi was leaning contemplatively on the sill of his open window, waiting for the icy breeze he was letting into his room to wake him up to how utterly stupid he was being. He’d always hated stories, real or fictional, about people doing ridiculous and self-destructive things for love, but now here he was, palming his smartphone idly and wondering with complete seriousness if it would survive an eight meter drop with substantial but repairable damage.“ / (Or; All Daichi’s electronics are endangered the moment he realizes he can’t get that sweet, patient, ridiculously attractive IT tech off his mind.)’
  • World Will Follow After by @kiribakus; daisuga; 7k; ‘Sir, are you interested in the flavor of the day? Is that what’s going on here?? Could you please decide whether you’re looking over here or looking downward??? Is this some kind of weird Morse code???? Sir I don’t understand what is going on and my face is burning sir please—’

iwaoi:

  • Build A Temple in Me by @kiribakus; iwaoi; 40k; ‘Up the mossy mountain steps, past the komainu guardians and the faded red gate, and beyond the boundaries of the green shrine—that’s where the forest and the spirit world within it lies. That’s where Hajime met him, and where their story began. / But intertwining of destinies can be ugly business, Hajime finds, when their first meeting begins with blood and the too-human eyes of a beast.’
  • how to let your planets align by tothemoon; iwaoi; 16k; ‘It is the last day on earth, December 2nd, 1985, when you realize you’re in love with him.’
  • midnight boy/sunset town by carafin; iwaoi; 10k; ‘In which Iwaizumi Hajime grows a few chili plants, participates in an eating contest, breaks into a park, and falls in love with a man who doesn’t ever sleep - not exactly in that order.’
  • I sure hope that guy gets fired by Xov; iwaoi; 30k; ‘It was the fourth time experiencing the exact same day that Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly admitted to himself that something was very wrong.’
  • Phone Home by ghostystarr; iwaoi; 7k; ‘Oikawa Tooru is currently orbiting Earth at 445 kilometers per minute, but falling in love with the voice in his ear makes it feel so much slower than that.’
  • Through My Eyes by anchoringsouls; iwaoi; 3k; ‘“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.”’
  • the BEES KNEES by munzie and oikawamemesquad; iwaoi & bee x knee; 300 words; ‘KN(B)EEwaoi: the fic (boy x boy, R-18, dont like dnt read!1!!!)’

kyouhaba:

  • Close to the Chest by @darkmagicalgirlwrites; kyouhaba; 61k; ‘It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he’s different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba’s journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.’
  • Laughter by @kiyala; kyouhaba; 2k; ‘Kyoutani has a cute laugh and suddenly, Yahaba has a crush.’
  • Entwined by @kiyala; kyouhaba; 2.5k; ‘Soulmates share their emotions with each other when their hands touch. Yahaba experiences it for the first time when he and Kyoutani share a high five after winning a match.’
  • Colourmarks by @kiyala; kyouhaba; 4k; ‘Kyoutani and Yahaba keep leaving marks on each other everywhere they touch. They’re trying their best to ignore it, and what it means.’
  • no solution series by fortyfiveangrycats; kyouhaba; currently 17k & 4 fics; ‘parallel lines, parallel stories. basically a bunch of kyouhaba fics that all remotely tie together.’

matsuhana:

  • plus one by safra; matsuhana; 6k; ‘"Did you know we’re dating?” / “What? Says who?” / “Says everyone apparently.” / “Oh,” Hanamaki frowns for a few seconds before shrugging and turning his attention back to the chocolate fountain. “Nice."’
  • A Bouquet of Flours by @guyfierimpreg; matsuhana; 5k; ‘“Is that a flour sack in a diaper,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, looking at the offending thing with a Look saved only for dealing with Hanamaki and Matsukawa (and occasionally Oikawa, though the Look for Oikawa came with a lot more vein-popping and swearing). / “Don’t talk about our baby like that,” Matsukawa shot back.’
  • stranger things by laubear; matsuhana; 10k; ‘In 2012, the men’s national volleyball team took home the bronze at the Asian Cup. Tokyo Skytree opened to the public. Also, the dashing Hanamaki Takahiro and painfully cool Matsukawa Issei started a radio show out of Aoba Johsai’s abandoned A/V room and accidentally became the two most popular guys in school.’

bokuaka:

  • geronimo by lagatos; bokuaka; 28k; ‘"beach resort au” where Bokuto Koutarou works in a small tourist town’s beach resort, renting out kayaks and surfboards for people he’ll never see again. Akaashi Keiji moves into town for the summer for a photography internship and Bokuto insists on showing him how the natives live.’
  • oh baby, can’t you see by commovente; bokuaka; 2k; ‘akaashi keiji’s comprehensive list of all 37 of bokuto-san’s weaknesses.’
  • wanderlust led me home to you by earlgrey_milktea; bokuaka; 13k; ‘When a tall, dark stranger walks into Koutarou’s shop one day, he was in no way prepared for his entire life to be changed at a glimpse of those breathtaking grey-green eyes. / in which bokuto fiddles with a music box that makes no sound, akaashi is a plant person, and some secrets must be revealed sooner or later.’
  • Rules by conesofdunshire; bokuaka; 120k; ‘In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there’s just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.’

bokuroo:

  • black cats & voodoo dolls by ohhotlamb; bokuroo; 4.5k; ‘“So, hypothetically, if I wanted to put a curse on somebody and make them suffer but I didn’t really want them to die—how would you suggest that, um, I do that?” / Kuroo looks up over his completely wholesome and not-at-all suggestive magazine (covered by another magazine—a nature special on humpback whales or some other majestic shit like that) to find an extremely hot and extremely sad-looking guy. Kuroo raises an eyebrow, but it’s invisible under the black of his fringe. He alternates brows. / “Damn. Who fucked you over?”’
  • it feels good, it feels great by @niwry; bokuroo; 1k; ‘Bokuto makes Kuroo feel alive, Kuroo makes Bokuto feel calm. There are also pineapples and night trains.’
  • the yeah yeah yeah song by keptein; bokuroo; 5k; ‘And the light from the stage catches in the guy’s hair, so blond it shines white like a beacon, like one of the stars overhead. Tetsurou leans over and yells in his ear, hand on one solid shoulder, “Cool hair!” / “You too!” the guy yells back, “I dig the sex hair look!”’

kurotsukki:

  • A Very Kuroo Chirstmas by AQuinton; kurotsukki; 2k; ‘Tsukishima Kei loves all things Christmas. But he doesn’t plan on admitting that to anyone anytime soon.
  • as far as first meetings go by whatcaniwriteinthis; kurotsukki; 0.7k; ‘… this isn’t that bad.’
  • Who Done It by galaxymouth; kurotsukki; 1k; ‘Tsukishima Kei has hickeys on his neck and no one on the entire volleyball team can figure out who could ever get close enough to the wall of salt to leave them there. The volleyball club suddenly becomes a detective debate club.’

ushiten:

  • Dovetail by ideallyqualia; ushiten; 31k; ‘To know something like the back of your hand means that you know that person or that thing very, very well.’
  • i’m a house with no windows, you’re the flowers on the front porch by @tendouaf; 67k; currently 9/? chapters; ‘Wakatoshi likes absolutes. He likes the idea of something being unchangeable, immovable, because he doesn’t have to worry needlessly about it. He can focus his energy on other, more important things. And among the absolutes he feels in his life, his bond with Satori is one of them. / (aka: a fic focusing on ushiten’s development from childhood through adulthood that no one really asked for but I felt an extremely strong urge to write anyway)’
  • ushiten week 2016 series by @owlinaminor; seven fics; 21k total; established relationship oneshots ft genderfluid ushijima.

captains genfic:

  • national hot dad alliance is now calling… by @dicaeopolis and @owlinaminor; captains genfic; 58k; ‘Sawamura Daichi: What the fuck. (Or, the captains’ squad interactions that definitely happen outside of canon, presented in Skype chat form.)’
  • Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by @ezzydean; captains genfic; 17k; ‘Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them. / What could possibly go wrong? / (The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)’
  • holding out for a hero by @dicaeopolis; captains genfic; 17k; ‘Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto, and Daichi make up a team of superheroes fighting to keep their city free from crime. But they might’ve met their match in a powerful nature spirit that seems determined to take them down for good. / Also, it would really help Kuroo’s concentration if his teammates stopped wearing so much spandex. / Or: the superhero slice-of-life that nobody asked for.’

rarepairs & multishipping:

  • jaywalkers series by @sturlsons; kurotsukki, bokuaka, yamayachi, & others; currently 95k & 18 fics; ‘A collection of stories the morals of which all amount to: if something can go wrong, it will. Also, if something can go right, it also will. / Alternatively, that one college AU where everyone fucks all the shit up.’
  • Hearts aren’t bulletproof by boxofwonder; ushioi; 11k; ‘Being a superhero is hard. / Having a crush on your High School rival is hard. / Your High School rival having a crush on your Superhero identity without knowing it’s you is … kind of the worst.’
  • This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by @mysecretfanmoments and poulerslashes; ushioi; 34k; ‘Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He’d hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can’t help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?’
  • babysitters club by tesselated; tsukkiyama; 4k; ‘This is the problem with Yamaguchi: he’s too nice. Tsukishima has known this since they were thirteen, but apparently he’s never learned because here he is, babyproofing their apartment for the third time this month because Sugawara knows Yamaguchi will say yes when he asks them to babysit.’
  • blue summer sky by deanpendragon; tsukkiyama; 32k; ‘In which Tadashi manages his grandfather’s pet store and Tsukishima works at the music shop next door. Lots of exclamation points, dialogue, obvious crushes, internal (and overexcited) monologuing, animal trivia, and terrible puns ensue.’
  • four-star daydream by @dicaeopolis; oikuroo; 5k; ‘Kuroo’s cat has a problem with stealing clothing. Oikawa has a problem with Kuroo.’
  • That Go Bump In the Night by sushibomb; oikuroo; 19k; currently 1/3 chapters; ‘Oikawa has always been fascinated with the unknown. Aliens, monsters, ghosts, you name it, he can tell you a little something about the lore. So when a mysterious new person moves into his apartment complex, Oikawa is determined to prove that this seemingly normal guy might be one of the undead. But what happens when it turns out that he’s right?’
  • Unconventional Wisdom by irlbokuto; bokuroo, daisuga, and iwaoi; 60k; currently 12/? chapters; ‘They say you don’t really know a person until you live with them. After late night grocery runs, singing competitions, stove fires, alien conspiracies, laundry mishaps, excessive penalty drills, identity crises, and falling in love with your best friend, you begin to see life in a different light. You knew playing volleyball would take you places, but this was the farthest scenario from your mind. / Or, a tale of how Kuroo Tetsurou found himself rooming with three other volleyball captains at university.’
  • romance ‘n’ all that jazz by @tobioslilgiant; goshihina; 12k; ‘The smile drops from Goshiki face and his steaming cup of coffee nearly slips from his hand when he realizes: there’s someone already standing there. Standing in his spot. / Someone who’s assaulting poor, unsuspecting passerbies with the offensive noise known as jazz. / OR: AU where Hinata and Goshiki are rival street performers’
  • a dash of sugar and a spoonful of salt by @tobioslilgiant; goshihina; 1.5k; ‘"I don’t who keeps leaving me sweets but whoever it is, I’m gonna marry them,” Hinata gushes. / “Really?” Shirabu demands, jarring Goshiki from his thoughts. “You don’t even know who’s sending them, though. They could be hideous—” he looks over at Goshiki—“or painfully annoying.” / OR: the college AU where Goshiki keeps anonymously leaving baked goods in front of Hinata’s dorm room and Shirabu’s completely lost any semblance of chill he’s ever had’
  • The Kindling Alchemist by kvhottie; kagehina, tsukkiyama, daisuga, & others; 15k; currently 3/? chapters; ‘The lovechild of FMA:B and Psycho-pass AU. / “…and finally your partner, Major Kageyama, the Crystal Aconite Alchemist.”/ Hinata’s eyes darted to Kageyama and looked him up and down. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a stoic expression—he definitely wasn’t the life of the party. Hinata smirked, almost sure that Kageyama’s alchemy element was something cold, just like his demeanor. It was fine; he always liked a challenge.’
  • red skinny jeans by @dicaeopolis; tentsukki; 4k; ‘The trials of one prickly student-librarian and the guy who seems to enjoy nothing more than pissing him off. / Or, “Tsukishima Kei and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"’
  • Herding Cats by notallbees; kuroyaku; 15k; ‘Cat-sitting in his new boyfriend’s apartment seems like a stress-free way for Kuroo to get out of his mom’s house for a week, and to win some brownie points with Yaku. But cats often have their own ideas about how things should be run, and Kuroo has his work cut out if he wants to impress Porco and Rosso.’
  • when the moon hits your eye by Metis_Ink; ushijima/futakuchi; 10k; ‘The stress of new captaincy is troubling enough when there’s not a nationally-recognized, socially-stunted rival captain inappropriately concerned with your eating habits. Futakuchi is disappointed to find that that’s just the beginning of it.’
  • it’s tradition. by hicsvntdracones; kyouhaba, iwaoi, matsuhana, & kinkuni; 6k; ‘It’s tradition, it’s tradition, they all say as they gather up the second and first years. The second years have a look of hard determination, while the first years are simply confused. Oikawa claps his hands together. / "Let’s begin this year’s annual training camp truth or dare!” / Kunimi tries to run.’
  • Touch by @mysecretfanmoments; yakulev; 10k; ‘After a twisted ankle and an uncomfortable realization, Yaku starts to see a different side of Lev—one he doesn’t want to kick at all. (Or, well… not often.)’
  • Ear to Ear by @darkmagicalgirlwrites; aonefuta; 1.5k; ‘Futakuchi is as noisy, but Aone doesn’t mind.’
  • Despite the Warning Signs by @natroze; tensuga; 16k; ‘“War,” Suga says, quite cordially. “This means war.” / Or, the one where Tendou and Suga end up roommates in college and immediately engage each other in dorm room prank combat. Romantically.’
  • a little piece of home by spacegirlkj; oihina; 3k; ‘It’s a big step, Shouyou thinks as he stands back, wiping the paint of his hands to look at the blue room. / Their first real home, Tooru and him.’
  • Boatman by @surveycorpsjean; bokuto/iwaizumi; 4k; ‘Bokuto finds him, washed up, dehydrated, woven in translucent webbing. / Of course they fall in love.’
  • Stuck in the Middle with You by overlymetaromantic; oisuga; 15k; ‘It’s not the kind of blossoming relationship either of them would expect, but maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something good.’
  • Phases by togekissies; oisuga; 3k; ‘i. Moon witch Sugawara meets weather witch Oikawa on the street, strikes up a friendship. / ii. Moon witch Sugawara spends longer than is necessary texting weather witch Oikawa, is judged by his cat. / iii. Moon witch Sugawara, emboldened by the full moon, asks weather witch Oikawa a silent question. Weather witch Oikawa says yes.’
  • Daredevil on the slope by @smokey310; bokuakakurotsukki; 124k; ‘„Seriously. What kind of supernatural being did I piss off to deserve this,“ sighed Tsukishima on their way up to the mountain. Akaashi sat next to him in the little chair lift and watched the trails of small paw prints disappear between the clusters of fir trees. The snow glittered in the sun, the air was icy fresh and everything would have been picture perfect if it wasn’t for the intruder shaking his snowboard around in the third seat. / “Are you talking about me?” asked Tanaka, whom Tsukishima was very obviously talking about. / “Do you see any other people which the devil would have sent to punish me?” / “There’s some right behind us,” said Tanaka, pointing to the following chair lift filled with an excitedly jumping Bokuto, a maniacally smiling Nishinoya and Kuroo who sat in the middle and looked like he contemplated jumping into the treetops below. / Well – he did have a point there.’
  • Mannequin Men by @surveycorpsjean; bokuakakurotsukki; 76k; ‘The modeling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path. / In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.’
  • Half Past Moon by @swallowtail-butterflys; kawashira; 9k; ‘5 kawashira scenes with the moon and 1 under the sun as they slowly fall in love.’
  • Window Vine by @swallowtail-butterflys; kawashira & tensemi; 15k; ‘"Tendou-san named the storage mop after Semi-san.“ / "That is concerning,” Kawanishi concedes.’
  • Sunshine Cafe by shions_heart; kenhina; 2.5k; ‘In which a tired college student’s daily routine is turned upside-down by the arrival of an adorable barista with sunshine in his smile.’
  • Push and Pull by @aroceu; kagetsukki; 11k; ‘The one where Kageyama and Tsukishima can’t be in different rooms if they don’t want to die (or at least hurt each other), and Kageyama has feelings.’ 
  • The trick to my treat by Etstrubal; bokutsukki; 3k; ‘Tsukki is pretty much addicted to sugar, and Bokuto makes the best sweets in town.’
  • OUT! by @yamaguchigrin; yamaguchi/male oc; 106k; ‘JAPAN’S FIRST GAY ATHLETE COMES OUT! / Yamaguchi never expected to read THAT headline in Gay Japan News, but he about fainted when he scrolled down to the photograph. There–volleyball on his hip, naked from his Seijoh shorts upward and eyes pleading for readers to devour him–was the familiar face of Oikawa Tooru. / Oikawa? Gay? OUT?’

other genfic:

  • the lost boys by @owlinaminor; shiratorizawa genfic ft ushiten; 61k; ‘A group of boys lost everything in war only to inherit a country that no longer knows its place in the world. How do they grow up? Who do they look up to? Where do they go to find purpose? There is only one answer: they turn to each other.’
  • Dear Mister Ghost by phantomdieb; shiratorizawa genfic; 5k; ‘The Volleyball team of Shiratorizawa is allowed to practice at school in their autumn holidays.  Everything seems alright until suddenly two of them go missing - followed by more of them.  Is that the Shiratorizawa Academy’s ghost?’ 
  • senpai troubles by @owlinaminor; one-sided goshiki/all his senpai & minor ushiten; 5.5k; ‘“Um, senpai?” Tsutomu wonders. “What does gay mean?” / Shirabu stares at him for another long moment, unblinking – then leans back against the bench and tilts his face up to the ceiling. / “Nope,” he declares, to nobody in particular. “I am not dealing with this.”’
  • intra-team espionage by hananapeel; aone & futakuchi; 1.2k; ‘A normal end to a normal Friday night: a fuming Kamasaki, an unapologetic Futakuchi, and Aone, who is dragged along for the ride every single time.”
  • it’s like the hunger games, but better by safra; seijoh genfic; 3k; ‘“Just a game of paintball?” Hanamaki parrots, eyes widening as he takes another step forwards until they’re standing practically nose to nose. “Kindaichi, Kindaichi, my poor naive Kindaichi. This is more than just a game.” / Kindaichi frowns. “It…is?” / “Kindaichi,” Oikawa says sharply, shoving Hanamaki out of the way so he can grasp Kindaichi tightly by the shoulders. “This is a matter of life or death.” / “I mean, I don’t think it’s really tha—” / “Life or death,” Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi say loudly in unison.’
  • A Good Day by bishounen_curious; saeko & natsu; 2k; ‘For the SASO2016 Prompt: Remember when the big sis of the Karasuno team met the team’s little sis?’
  • second year volley squad by garbagecannot; karasuno second-years genfic; 3.5k; ‘Kino: no-one cares tanaka / Tanaka: shot through the heart and you’re to blame / Or how five high school volleyball players with only their club in common, slowly but surely, became best friends.’
  • Hello, Halcyon Days by tookumade; aone & hinata; 2k; ‘No matter where he walked in Sendai city, Aone was always given a wide berth. He supposed it made getting around places easier, but there was a sort of loneliness in how people gave him fearful looks and avoided him as much as they did.’
  • no unread messages by warfare; kageyama & kenma; 5k; ‘Kageyama also remembers that he’d failed utterly at getting to talk to him. He’d been baffled about it at the time; what kind of setter doesn’t want to talk about setting? But maybe this is the answer. Maybe Nekoma’s setter - (“Kenma,” Hinata chides frustratedly the third or fourth time he says it, “his name is Kenma") - maybe Kenma-san is just bad face-to-face. Kageyama can understand that, to some extent, although he doesn’t quite understand why that would extend to talking to him about volleyball, but fine. He can accommodate this, if that’s what it takes. He asks for Kenma’s contact information immediately. Hinata copies it into his phone with a weird, sour face, muttering, “I mean it, Kageyama, you better not be a jerk to him.” Kageyama has no idea what Hinata is insinuating, and he forgets the comment almost immediately.’
  • levels of investment by @skittidyne; karasuno genfic; 9k; ‘Yamaguchi was far less nervous in practice than any games, and he’d gotten far more skilled at serving in a few short months, so Tsukishima was utterly unprepared for the feeling of a volleyball slamming into the back of his head. / There was a beat of silence. / The ball had enough of an angle to bounce off his head and over to the other side of the net, landing neatly in front of a stunned Sugawara. / (( or: Ennoshita plots for the future, Suga wants to mess around and is intent on dragging everyone down to his level, Noya tries to become a spiker, Kiyoko is a good senpai, Yamaguchi cries, and Tsukishima wonders if he’s been dropped off in the Twilight Zone without his notice ))’
Bts reacting to you having a bad temper.

Namjoon:

You got frustrated when the remote wouldn’t work so you kicked the small table your feet were on making one of the legs fall leading to everything sliding off.

“Hey!” Namjoon said from the kitchen table, “I’m the only one allowed to break things around here so chill!”

“Or what!” You yelled back throwing the controller on other side of the couch.

He walked up to you, “Or this.” He grabbed your face gently and kissed you.

Originally posted by cherry-jimin

Jin:

“No! I said a Julienne cut not a minc cut!” 

“Then you cut them!” you threw the knife into the sink.

“Hey, don’t throw the good knives!”

“They’re all the same wtf?!”

“Fine.” He pulled you into a side hug, “Look, don’t worry about it okay? Go watch some tv.” he kissed the top of your head.

Originally posted by mochjiminnie

Hoseok:

When you came home you threw the your bag against the wall and started punching the air. You didn’t even realize Hobi was sitting on the couch staring at you. 

“You okay babe?”

“No this stupid lady at starbucks made me spill my drink on myself.” You pointed at your shirt.

“Here,” he took his shirt off to give to you, “take this. Come lay down with me and tell me about the lady who hurt my baby.”

Originally posted by yoongles

Yoongi:

“I’m over it, I’m quitting life! I’m done, I can’t. Rip me. This dumbass costumer tried to get me to return his shirt but you could clearly see he wore it and, oh my god, AND HIS RETURN TIME WAS EXPIRED AND AFTER THAT I WENT TO- ihfsdjncdsfu” You mumbled into Yoongi’s shirt as he hugged you.

“Shut up ya weenie. You know damn well you’re going to your shift tomorrow. Do you want to here the new music I’m working on?” He let go of you a little.

“Oh, yeah okay.”

Originally posted by minyoongiaesthetic

Taehyung:

“Hey where are you?” You called over the phone.

“I’m going to be a tad late, but i’ll be there soon.”

“Tae! You have me standing out here like an idiot. Ughhhh I’m leaving. I’m never going out again!”

“Baby calm down, Jesus. I’m five minutes away. I’ll bring you ice cream and let you talk my ear off okay?”

Originally posted by yoongsb

Jimin:

“Jimin… did you close my laptop?”

“Yeah, I had to move it.”

“Jimin! I didn’t save my essay! It’s due tomorrow!” You kicked the chair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know!”

“Next time ask.” you stormed out.

A couple of hours later passed when Jimin knocked on your door with your laptop. “I got Yoongi hyung to restore your paper,” he chuckled, “That mans a genius I tell ya.”  

Originally posted by yourpinkpill

Jungkook:

You had tripped over Jungkooks video games as you were walking to the kitchen. “Ahh what the fuck!”

“What!? what happened?!” Jungkook came running in.

“You left your stupid games on the stupid floor is what happened! God can’t you ever clean up after yourself! I get your bts’ maknae and all but come on, your not a baby. I’m not your nan-jsfdbuhafds” He hugged you.

“Let go!” You mumbled while trying to push him off.

“No!” he laughed as you tried getting out of his hold.

Originally posted by eolljjung

When I Lost You - Part II - Jaehyun x Reader - Fuckboy HighSchool!AU

Part IPart II  - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

There will probably be a continuation to this series. This chapter is from Jaehyun’s point of view.

Word Count: 2458

Trigger Warnings: Offensive Language

Genre: Fuckboy HighSchool!AU, Angst


Jaeyhyun’s POV

It was that one fateful day in freshman year when the seating plan had been shifted and he ended up sitting next to you.

His heartbeat had almost stopped; he’d been crushing on you for almost two months now, and this couldn’t be happening.

You had glanced up and noticed him standing there shyly, and you smiled, introducing yourself.

Of course I know who you are, he thought to himself as he tried to find the proper words to not make a fool of himself during his own introduction.

Keep reading

Malec Goodies Part 1

This was supposed to be longer but anyway.

Here it is!

A collection of Malec Writing Goodies. My Malec fanfic rec. Well written fics with amazing writers.

As always, if you know the author and want to give me a hand, please tag them :)

A Fated Pair (Omegaverse) by @katychan666

Series about Alpha!Alec x Omega!Magnus…. 

A good kind of drug by  @imjustoutofideas

After getting a minor surgery, Alec is a little bit ‘high’ from the morphine he was given as pain relief. Fluff ensues.

A Pirate’s Life For Me by @lecrit 

Note: All the love you need and want between your favorite OTP, where one is a prince and the other one is a pirate. There’s a lot of angst, maybe a few tears, you can be sure of that but it’s oh so worth it, fluff and shameless innuendos.

A World Uncertain by @broodingalec 

The overwhelming passage of time has been a topic of avoidance between Alec and Magnus ever since the two started dating. With their lives so fragile and unpredictable under the threat of Valentine, they have managed to leave the concept in the back of their minds for a later date, hopefully somewhere in the far future.

This method of coping is pushed even further in the wake of Sebastian, Valentine’s son and Clary’s brother, taking a new and increasingly cruel step into their lives. The threats that are piling up against them seem to be rising to nearly insurmountable heights, but under the pressure of it all, the idea of the future that would come in the aftermath of success is beginning to haunt Alec’s dreams at night just as often.

Aftermath by @battlemagnus

It used to be that Alec always fit securely inside a neat little box inside Magnus’s head. He was a Shadowhunter, yes, but he was… he was Alec. He was a protector.

And my heart is set on you by  @lightwoodlesbians

Or the, 'we’re putting on a fund-raising play to save our old drama department’ au (ft. bonus: 'we had a thing in high school but i haven’t seen you in years and oh god you’re even more attractive than i remember’)

Aren’t You Cold? By lethargical

Alec dislikes the Winter. A lot. So when his apartment’s heating stops working, he decides to ask his neighbour for help, little did he know his neighbour was glittery and oddly familiar…

August by @glambertal

“What was your first time like?”

Magnus looked up at him slowly, one eyebrow arched curiously. “Why?”

Alec shrugged as if he weren’t mortified. “Just wondering. You don’t have to answer.”

Magnus just hummed and bookmarked his page, setting the book down. “It wasn’t nearly as good as yours, if that’s what you mean.”

Bang Me Like Your Drum by hckycrzy07

Magnus Bane is a pre-med student at NYU just trying to graduate. He’s stressed enough and could do without his friends pestering him about his boyfriend. It’s not that he’s embarrassed or closeted or something. He just wants to keep his boyfriend to himself, thank you very much. Now, if he could just get his friends to understand that, his life would be a whole lot easier.

or Magnus has a secret boyfriend that all of his friends have been dying to meet but Magnus just keeps refusing.

Big days and fragile nerves by @katwriting

It’s the day that Alec is supposed to become the official Head of the Institute and he is a tiny bit nervous.

“Nervous?”, Magnus said softly.
Alec let out a shaky laugh and scratched the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “You have no idea.”
Magnus sighed. “Oh, Alexander. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, sure”, Alec scoffed, running one of his arms up Magnus’s side and cupping his cheek with his hand, “only every single shadowhunter in New York waiting for me to screw up.”

But some of us are looking at the stars by @lecrit

There aren’t many things that Alec loves as much as he loves the stars.
Most nights, he just likes to sit on his balcony and watch the eerie darkness drape over the sky and the silver glow of the moon, surrounded by the stars shaping constellations he knows by heart.

This is a special night for him and his son. The only night in the year Alec lets Max stay up after midnight, so they can watch Perseids meteor shower together on the rooftop of their building.

Alec doesn’t expect to find out they weren’t the only ones to get the idea.

Build your hopes up like a tower by alecsmagnus

They thought he never heard them.

But he always did.

Burnt by redappleblossom

The rest of the scene that Magnus deserved at the end of episode 12.

But In the Morning We Rise by @alittlebriton

“Mmmkay,” Magnus sighs without opening his eyes and shifts to allow Alec more access. “You can wake up the rest of me if you want.”

Alec knows he doesn’t mean it quite the way his brain interprets it - he just means he can keep up the kissing - but his brain leaps ahead and makes him flush, his body getting warmer. But why shouldn’t he? Magnus was his boyfriend; he was naked in bed with him. He could definitely wake up the whole of Magnus if he wanted. Just because he hasn’t done it before didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea. 

Set before Episode 9 Bound By Blood - Alec wakes Magnus up in new ways.

Closed Doors Don’t Lie by @actuallyredorchid

When the summoning of the Memory Demon reveals that it’s not only Clary’s memories that have been meddled with, Alec finds himself being pushed off the path set out for him and onto a different one.

Communication by NotEvenThat

It didn’t matter if Alec hadn’t meant to upset him. Ragnor was dead. Valentine was back. The Clave wanted to document Downworlders, like they were cattle. Magnus was breaking down and he needed Alexander to leave before he really lost it.

Or how I think the Malec fight will go in 2B.

Communication Is Key by LS_5Ever

Everything was going great for Alec and Magnus. Alec no longer cares what Maryse thinks, and apart from Jace and Izzy’s constant teasing, he couldn’t be happier. Then, all goes downhill when, after a great day, Magnus starts ignoring him. What did he do wrong? If only Magnus would tell him, he could try to make it better.

Or the one where Magnus thinks Alec is cheating on him but in reality he’s not, but Magnus doesn’t know that because the two of them don’t communicate enough.

This will only be about 5 chapters unless I feel like expanding the story a bit.

Count to Ten and Breathe by @baneismyexistence

This is just a little drabble that came to me after watching 2.12.

Dancing in the Devil’s shoes by @marieruby 

His legs are not working. No matter how much he tries, the swirling mess in his head makes it impossible to walk anywhere, take any action. It’s the last couple of days all over again. He wants to cry but the tears are dry. He wants to scream but his voice is gone.

His voice is gone.

——-
The aftermath of 2x11 and the consequences of the bodyswap for Magnus.

Everything’s Embarrassing by @rosegoldhell

Magnus is a single father. Alec is a 4th grade teacher.
Both men are scared of relationships, but secretly crave to have something more one day, life just keeps getting in the way.
But their plans of living single lonely lives doesn’t last for long, when Rafael and Madzie Bane decide to play Matchmaker.

Explosive, Corrosive (Self-Preservation) by  GideonGraystairs (TrxyesSivan)

This was how they worked; angry in different ways, but always at the same time.

Keep reading

Son of the Sea

This is dedicated to the shadiest person around. She’s always out there killing us with her fics, so this week a group of us are out to return the favor! And we’re doing it in the most loving way possible of course😘  Happy birthday to the beautiful and talented @kpopfanfictrash ! I hope your birthday was everything and more! ily <3

Taehyung: hinted demigod au.

Caution: Smut

Word Count: 5.2k+

Keep reading

dancing in a snow globe | shawn mendes

AKA THE SEQUEL TO “POEMS I WOULD WRITE YOU”

AKA COLLEGE!SHAWN PART TWO

MY MASTERLIST

word count: 10,143 (you didn’t think it was possible for this to be longer than the last one, did you?)

author’s note: thank you all SO, SO MUCH for all your feedback on part one (which you should probably read before you start this, and you can find it HERE). this second part covers sophomore year, and it’s a bit more nsfw so, like, don’t read this at work or your grandmother’s house, ya feel? i’m dedicating it to emily aka @saysweartogod bc she’s been my main cheerleader and literally revived herself from the dead to tell me to finish this. title comes from “you are in love” by taylor swift. enjoy xo


Your name: submit What is this?

i.

It had always been strange to you that time never felt consistent. One second could feel as though it stretched out into several eons, but three months could be compressed into one blink. As your freshman year of college ended, you felt like you weren’t looking around enough to notice the changes: the trees becoming lush with green leaves again, sweatshirts becoming t-shirts becoming tank tops, your boyfriend becoming more open, more kindhearted, more incredible with each passing day.

As your sophomore year progressed, you learned two things:

  1. You were in love, and
  2. You had no idea what to do about it.

But let’s start a bit before that.

Keep reading

jealous | reggie mantle (riverdale)

Originally posted by riverdalesource

prompt: 28- “shut up, just shut up!”

a/n: this is work of my newest lil bean co-owner davina!! please leave a warm message in our ask box or down below so she knows you guys are loving her work!! leave request my babies!!

it’s been two months since Reggie and I started dating, two truly beautiful months.

we’ve been best friends since the kindergarten so we practically grew up together, even though our families hated each other for unknown reasons.

because of that, we decided to keep our whole relationship as a secret. so the two of us were happy, at least for a while.

it was Sunday night and as a weirdo that I am, I spent it watching my favorite horror movies. Suddenly, I heard tapping on my window. I hurriedly stood up and grabbed my flashlight.

“Who… who is it?” I stuttered.

“Michael Myers” I heard a familiar voice. It was my beloved significant other, Reginald Mantle.

“Reggie?!” I was upset and creeped out.

“What on earth are you doing? You scared the shit out of me!”

“Now, now, can I come in or not?” He said trough laughter. I quickly dragged him inside my room, trying not to wake up my parents.

“So? What is so important, Mantle?”

“Look" he sighed

“Will you come to the match tomorrow night?”

“The football match?“ he nodded. 

“Reggie… I don’t think we…” “Y/N…”

“My parents will be there!” I halfshouted

“I’m sick of these secrets, Y/N! You are my girlfriend, my soulmate. I would kill for you, I would take you on a journey to heaven and show you to the angels. I care about you more than I care about their reaction.”

he grabbed my hand “please” he whispered

I was truly touched with his words, so I decided to say yes to the match.

“Fine.” I sighed

‘What could possibly go wrong?’ I thought. well, I wasn’t right.

I spent the whole day thinking about the match and my boyfriend. I hoped that my parents won't be there, regardless to the fact that my older brother was in the team too.

“Y/N?”

unexpectedly my best friend, Veronica approached me

I met Veronica last year and we have been friends since then. Best friends, actually. In attempt to grab my coffee, she realized that I was in fact wearing a Riverdale Bulldogs shirt underneath my denim jacket.

“You are not going to that match, right?”

“I am, actually.”

Even though we were besties, I haven’t told her about my relationship with Reggie.

“You… have some something you wish to tell me?” Crap, she knew me well. She knew I was hiding something.

I shook my head “No, I do not.”

That was a terrible mistake.

It was finally 6:30PM. I grabbed my phone along with my car keys and left the family house.

i was terrified and excited at the same time. The stands were full, this surely was an important match for the Bulldogs. All of a sudden, Veronica appeared in front of me.

“Veronica?” I gasped.

“What… what are you doing here?" "I'm a cheerleader, silly” she laughed.

the situation was getting worse and worse “Are… are my parents here?” I asked the raven haired girl in front of me

“Oh yeah. They are with your brother in the changing room.” Boom. That was it. It always gets worse.

“Veronica… I have to tell you somet….”

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the annual Riverdale High vs Kingsley High match.” I was cut off by the host.

“Listen, I gotta go. See you later, okay?” She kissed my cheek and ran away to her River Vixens.

I quickly sat on my seat in the stands, waiting for my boyfriend to appear.

I saw my parents, sitting there, without even noticing me. My anxiety hit me.

Suddenly, a strange group of boys in lather jackets sat next to me. I couldn't recognize them, they weren't from our school.

“Hello there, beautiful” One of them spoke, grabbing my shoulder.

“I… I'm not” I was fearful. I tried to pull down his hand

“… and now we welcome the Riverdale Bulldogs and our one and only, River Vixens!”

“I have a boyfriend” I whispered, my voice was shaky. On spur of moment, the Bulldogs appeared, with my boyfriend in the first row.

“He doesn't have to know, babe” He tried to press his lips against mine.

“No!” I slapped him. That caught my boyfriend's eye.

“Hey!” Reggie said to the guy next to me.

Suddenly, the music stopped.

“What do you think you're doing?”

He was furious. The guy in the lather jacket stood up.

“Reggie…” I tried to calm him down. The whole crowd, including my parents, was staring.

“If you ever lay a hand on my girlfriend, I will murder your ass!"  He said with anger in his voice. Tears started forming in my eyes.

Everybody started clapping and cheering "Reggie?!” I whispered.

“My… OUR parents, we cannot…”

“Shut up, just shut up.”

He sensually kissed me and the clapping became even louder.  I saw my parents, sitting there, laughing and clapping with the rest of the crowd.

I was happy, for the first time in my life, I was actually happy. I loved Reggie, the way his eyes met mine. He surely was a jealous type, but if you weren't jealous every once in a while, you wouldn't be in love.

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:

What's your headcanon about Kara and Lena getting together romantically? Would you write a prompt about that?

I’m assuming we’re talking about canon Lena and Kara here! I think it would still be another season away and it would stem from Kara telling Lena that she is Supergirl (I’m going off the belief that Lena actually doesn’t know-let me live) and it would be angsty AS FUCK


Lena’s never been one to hide her attraction, she loves the buildup too much. She loves the tension, the flirtations, the banter. It’s why she never hid her attraction from Kara. She loved those doe eyed looks of admiration, and the way she blushed under her gaze. She loved the unhindered smiles when she was complimented, and the laughs when they talked.

Then Kara told her she was Supergirl.

That’s when it stopped being a game.

It had stopped being a game long before that, but it was the moment that Lena would realize. She was moving on autopilot, pouring herself a drink before sitting on her office couch, her head spinning. Kara standing blurry at the edge of her vision, saying something, but whatever it was, it fell on deaf ears.

The helicopter, the cyborg, the balcony, Jack, Rhea, that was Kara. CADMUS, the isotope, it was all Kara. Lena stood, ignoring the wave of nausea as she walked to her private bathroom. Lifting the toilet seat Lena doubled over heaving into the basin. A warm hand brushed against her back, bringing her attention to a glass of water. Flushing the toilet Lena took the glass grateful it was so cold.

“I think you should go.”

There was no reply, Lena didn’t even hear her move but when she finally made her way out of the bathroom she realized it was dark outside and she was standing in L-Corp alone.

//

When Kara walked into L-Corp a couple days later, Lena smiled at her like nothing happened.

There was no reason to treat Kara any differently, she was still Kara. But something had changed for Lena. Where the mention of Supergirl used to fill her with relief it now sent her reeling. She no longer read articles of Supergirl saving the day, and she turned off the news any time it flipped to images of Supergirl flying into the face of danger. Even with the constant threats to her own life she never walked around in fear like she did now.

She knew Kara was starting to noticing. Giving her sideways looks whenever Lena tried to change the subject away from Supergirl. Her forehead crinkling whenever Lena left the room when the super friends started talking work, or when she sat in jaw clenching silence when escape wasn’t an option.

Then Kara was called away for the first time while with Lena.

Seeing Kara change into Supergirl before her eyes had froze Lena to her very core. She had tried to bite back the cold responses to Kara’s apologies about having to leave, she never wanted to hurt Kara. But she knew from the pained look on Kara’s face when she flew away that she had failed miserably.

//

Lena hadn’t expected Kara to return that night, and she certainly hadn’t expected Kara to return through her balcony doors in her Supergirl suit still covered in dirt demanding they talk.

“You threw me out. The night I told you I’m Supergirl, you got sick, and you threw me out.” Kara crossed and uncrossed her arms, trying to keep up her Supergirl confidence.

“I needed to process.”

“Process what Lena? I put on this suit and you don’t see me any more anyway.”

“I don’t see you?” Lena stood up from her perch on the edge of her desk.

“This is who I am Lena. Kara Danvers and Supergirl-“

“I. Don’t. See. You?” Lena took a step forward forcing Kara back a step with her cool level tone. “I see you better then anyone else Kara Danvers. I know what you’ve gone through better then anyone. But that suit.”

Lena pushed a finger into the the crest on Kara’s chest forcing her back another step. “A month ago that suit belonged to a woman I barely knew. I didn’t know the woman that threw herself into the face of danger wearing that suit. If she died…” Lena breath hitched, “But now it’s not just some woman throwing herself into danger it’s the woman I lov-“

Lena froze.

Kara stared at her, mouth slightly open.

Lena took a step back, holding her ground when Kara followed her.

“I do see you Kara. I just don’t enjoy watching you get hurt.”

“This is who I am.” Kara’s voice lowered with each small step forward.

“I know.”

“I like helping people. That’s not going to change.”

“I know.”

Lena stayed still as Kara continued approaching, closing the distance between them.

“But you’re afraid?”


“Yes.”

“You made me promise once that I wasn’t going anywhere. I meant it.”

“I know.” Lena whispered as Kara gently pulled her into her arms, as they had done on so many other difficult nights. Kara stroked Lena’s hair burying her face into Lena’s shoulder as she hugged as tight as she could without hurting her.

“I love you too Lena.”

Kiss Me

Request: hiya !! i was wondering if you could do an imagine based off of the song “kiss me” by ed sheeran? maybe peter and the reader have been dating a while and are being all cuddly n stuff and he’s suddenly like “wow i’m so in love w u” and blurts it out or something idk?? lots of fluff and cuteness pls. thank you sm !! love your writing :))

A/N: I know I should be writing Dead Serious part 4 but I just got extreme block on that one so I figured i’d try and fill out some of my other requests. AND LMAO I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A MILLION YEARS AND HERE I AM. NOT WRITING THE THINGS I SAID I WOULD WRITE. But yikes, sorry it’s short.

This is based off this Ed Sheeran song

Word count: 933

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

Honestly, Peter Parker was one of your favourite people. He WAS your favourite person.

He was also your boyfriend and the love of your life.

You and Peter were doing what you usually did on Saturday mornings, sit on the couch watching cartoons in your pjs.

Your parents would never let you spend the night so you would wake up early in the morning, usually before 6am, and make your way to Peter’s apartment.

As soon as you got there, you would let yourself in (with the extra key Peter gave you for events just like this) and crawl into bed with Peter.

This morning was no different.

You groaned when your alarm went off, boy did you love Peter but waking pat 5:30am every Saturday morning was a lot.

You rolled out of bed, grabbed your phone, and went to the bathroom.

You stood in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth. Your hair was sticking up every which way, and there were bags under your eyes.

“God, the things I do for you, Parker,” you muttered to yourself.

You grabbed your keys and marched out the door.

You shivered when you got to the streets. There was a light layer of snow coating the ground.

Damn, why do I never think to look out the window?

You wrapped your arms around you and trudged through the streets, your shoes making a crunching sound with each step.

It took you only five minutes (of complete and utter shivering) to reach Peter’s apartment building.

You looked at your watch, 5:50am, way too early, even if you were heading to see your boyfriend.

You slowly made your way up the stairs of Peter’s apartment building, pulling out the keys and made your best attempts to quietly open the front door.

You dropped the keys on the table and slipped your shoes off.

When you got to Peter’s bedroom, you opened the door and made sure the door didn’t make any noise when you closed it behind you.

Peter’s back was to you, he was on his side facing the wall.

You came up behind him, lifting the covers, and sliding in beside him.

You placed a kiss on the back of his neck, and wrapped your arms around him.

Peter stirred and rolled deeper into his pillow.

“Peter, baby,” you whispered.

Peter groaned into his pillow.

“No, Y/N, it’s too early,” he whined

“Baby,”

Peter rolled over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You moved your arm around Peter so you were tracing lines along his back. You moved your other hand up towards Peter’s head, running your fingers through his curls.

“You’re so cold,” he said, placing a kiss on your neck.

“It snowed,” you said

“And you walked here? Darling, you should have told me, I would have come to yours,”

“You know I love snow, it’s okay,”

Peter was silent, his breathing slowed.

“I need more sleep,” he said quietly.

“Let’s go back to sleep baby, please,” Peter continued.

You pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead and soon you were both lulled into a light sleep.

A few hours later you woke up in Peter’s arms, your legs tangled together.

“Baby are you awake?” Peter asked.

“Yes, love” you said

Peter leaned over and placed a light kiss on your lips.

“God, Peter, you have the worst morning breath,”

“No, you love me,” he said, kissing you again.

“I do love you, but I don’t love the taste you’re leaving on my lips,”

“But Y/N,” he whined.

“You want to kiss me, you can go brush your teeth,”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, climbing over you, making his way to the bathroom.

When Peter returned, you had moved to where he had been lying before she could easily climb back into bed with you.

Peter smiled when he saw you.

“Is that my sweater?” He asked.

“It was cold last night and this was the only thing I had lying around close enough so I didn’t have to get out of bed,”

Peter laughed and lied down next to you, bringing you back into his arms.

You were silent for a while, Peter running his hands through our hair.

“I can’t believe you get up at 5:30 in the morning just so you can see me,”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, I really only come for the pancakes May makes for breakfast,”

Peter laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m so in love with you,” he said softly.

You smiled and leaned further into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“5am doesn’t matter to me all that much, i’d never sleep if it meant spending time with you,”


Tag list: @violentlybarnes, @nosoulnoproblems, @tommynewtieminhie, @goodluckfindingone, @quacksonsgurl, @potterhead1265, @nevaehsuga, @mrsmusicaddict, @tronnoristheotp, @isabellyduh, @spiderrparkerr, @lots-of-liz, @darlin-you-bitch, @a-smol-badger, @seellllin10 (I'm sorry if the tags don’t work???) 

Too Long

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word Count: 1433

Warnings: Language, fluff, a dash of angst, smooches

Request: “Actually i just miss you” prompt for tom holland please i love my precious cupcake <3 -anonymous

Note: when requesting, please specify which pronouns you would prefer! I automatically write female, so if you would like something other than that, just let me know :))

Summary: Tom and Y/N have finally admitted their feelings for each other after meeting on set for Spider-Man: Homecoming, where Y/N worked as a makeup artist. Now that they’re finally together, she must deal with his long absences and the baggage that comes with dating Marvel’s hottest new celebrity.

Originally posted by spiderparkcr

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Early Morning Tease (Seth Rollins) - the reader is home with her boyfriend Seth for the holidays. Seth goes out with his friends for a few drinks, but not before being teased as he leaves. fluff/smut

y'all, this is my first time posting my writing on this blog so let me know what you think.



WARNINGS: language/smut(ish)

•••••••••••


“That’s such BULLSHIT,” Seth yelled from the living room. I rolled my eyes, assuming he was just pissed that he was losing his video game. Every morning Seth ate his breakfast while he played Madden. It was like a tradition in our house. And almost every morning, Seth lost.

I grabbed my mug and made way into the living, finding that my assumptions were true when I saw an angry Seth standing right in front of the TV, thumbs furiously pushing at the buttons on his controller. I plopped myself down onto the couch and brought my knees to my chest, watching him with intrigue. Whenever he got worked up, his back muscles involuntarily tensed and flexed. I like to think it’s the universe’s little gift to me.

About ten minutes passed and Seth had officially lost to the Minnesota Vikings, 24-0, with a defeated and angry, “Fuck!” He turned around and looked me in eyes, smiling softly before climbing over the coffee table so he was standing in front of me. He leaned down and gave me a lingering kiss on the lips, before pulling back and gently kissing my forehead.

“Bet you had no idea was even sitting here, huh?” I asked, playfully poking his face as he sat down next to me, curling up into my side like a child.

“No, I knew,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Seth there’s no way you knew. You were so engrossed in your video game.”

“You’re wrong. I always know when you’re around me. I have like, spidey senses that only work for you,” he looked up at me for his place on my hip and smirked.

I rolled my eyes at him again, for the second time this morning. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot. That’s the beauty of it,” he sighed into my skin.

I was really thankful for the time we had together at home in Davenport this Christmas. It originally wasn’t looking like we were going to be able to make it home until the 23rd and then in turn have to be back in Tampa by the 27th, but Carrano pulled some strings for us at the very last minute. Now we had about 2 and a half weeks off together. No obligations, no responsibilities (other than Kevin), and no work. Us both being professional wrestlers on the main roster for WWE, it was hard to get time like this. Time where we could lounge on the couch at our home and enjoy each other’s company.

“I’d be so lost without you, babe,” I muttered into my cup.

“Likewise, princess.” He placed a kiss on the outer part of my thigh before sitting up. “Speaking of that actually….” he trailed off, looking sheepish.

I gave him my best stern look, anticipating my annoyance at whatever was going to come out of his mouth in the next 30 seconds. “What did you do?”

He stood up and started backing away from me and into the kitchen, out of my smacking range, but I just picked myself up and followed him. “Okay, baby. You can’t be mad because it’s… i-it’s something you told me to do.” He raised his hands in defense.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Take out the trash? Do the dishes? Put your disgusting socks into the washer and not leave them on the bathroom floor?” I questioned, gaining an eye roll from him.

“Okay, not exactly. But I promise that I’ll start getting better about that stuff.” He trailed off, not sure how to read my body language. “Remember how you told me to take time to relax and indulge in the small moments in life?”

I vaguely recalled being wine-drunk a couple nights before and telling him those things. I groaned inwardly. I should’ve known those words would come back and potentially bite me in the ass. I nodded tightly, too annoyed with myself to actually speak.

“Wellllllll,” he began, putting his hands on his hips and looking at me with that stupid, cute ass face that made me agree to anything he wanted. “The guys invited me to go over the lodge today and shoot some pool and drink some beer and I said I’d come.” He backtracked and raised his hands defensively when he saw my eyebrow raise. “I said I could ONLY go if it was alright with you.”

His big, brown bambi eyes pleaded with me and of course, my weak heart couldn’t stand here and say no when he looked so goddamn cute. But that didn’t mean I would let it look like I surrendered too easily.

“Oh? What time were you thinking?”

“Like 10? Only if that’s okay with you, princess,” he smiled nervously at me.

“And you’re going to the Moose Lodge here in town?”

“Yes. Just 10 minutes down the road. Close enough to be home incase of an emergency.”

I pursed my lips and pretended to contemplate before pointing a finger at him, commanding his attention. “I promise not to be a needy, mopey baby when you go hang out with your friends as long as you bring me some fried pickles when you come home.”

A big wide, award-winning smile spread across his face and he came around the kitchen island to envelope me in a warm hug. I squeezed him tightly, breathing in his scent. He felt like home and I loved it.

Seth pulled back just slightly to kiss me on the lips and then again and again. “Thanks, babe. I just didn’t want to leave you hanging while we had the chance to be home together.”

Eye roll count for today: 3.

“Seth, your friends deserve to see you too. They get to see you even less I do,” I smacked his chest playfully and went across the kitchen to get another cup of tea.

“I know, but you’re my number one priority in life,” he replied. I looked over my shoulder to see him staring at me from across the kitchen, adoration in all his features.

“Don’t you forget it, big guy,” I joked.

“With a woman like you, I couldn’t.”

“Good.” I turned in place and stared at his stupid, perfect face. He was too irresistible to not look at whenever I had the chance. We’d been together for 3 years and I still took every opportunity I admire him. I took and sip and suddenly remembered something. “Oh and can you pick up some milk?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at me and turned to open the fridge next to him. He grabbed the milk off the top shelf and held it up. “Yeah?”

I shook my head at the joker standing in front of me. “I meant at the store, Seth.”

He rolled his eyes at me this time and put the milk back where it belonged before closing the fridge and mocking my faux-annoyed pose. “Babe, I assume it weighs the same whether it’s in our fridge or at the store.”

“Seth Rollins, I hate you” I laughed.

He bounded over to me, pulling me into another tight hug. “You’re in love with me,” he muttered into my neck as he kissed his way down.

“Yeah, very true. I’m in love with you,” I whispered. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the closeness. He has just made his way to my t-shirt neckline when his hands snaked up and grabbed my breasts. His head popped up and by the darkening look in his eyes, I knew he was quickly getting turned on.

I smirked and shifted my position against the counter so my bare thigh rubbed against the bulge in his jeans. He groaned and brought his forehead down to touch mine.

“Are you not wearing a bra?” He mustered out between his clenched teeth.

“Nope,” I smiled back, popping the p.

“Why do you do this to me?”

“I thought we could have some fun this morning.” I made sure to bat my eyelashes at him and reach up to kiss his neck and tug at his hair, a few things that I knew would help with his growing arousal.

“Well then,” he said, lifting me up by my ass so I was now sitting on the counter, both legs on either sides of his hips, “we’ll just have to take care of that.”

Seth started kissing at my neck and playing with the waist of my silk pajama shorts. I pushed him away and hopped down form the counter, walking towards the living room. It pained me, but I knew it would pay off to both of our advantage later.

“Babe!” He shouted after me. “What the hell are you doing?”

I grabbed his keys from the bowl on the end table and tossed them to him. He caught them in one swift motion and stared at me incredulously, arms out.

“You gotta go. It’s 9:45 already. You told the boys you’d meet them at 10. You made a promise to be there and you’re not the kind of man to go back on his word,” I smirked.

He looked at the clock and then back at me a few times before sighing deeply. “You don’t play fair,” he moaned before heading towards the door.

“Not in the ring and not in the bed, baby,” I said before picking Kevin up and holding him in my arms. I grabbed one of his little paws and waved it at Seth. “Tell daddy bye-bye, Kev! Say, ‘Mommy’s going to go watch her TV shows without any clothes on while you’re gone.’” I kissed Kevin on the head before turning my attention back to Seth.

He was halfway out the door, turned towards me with lust and desperation displayed in his features. “You’re getting fucked into next week when I get home from the lodge later. I promise, princess.”

“Don’t forget the milk!” I shouted just before he shut the door behind him.

I laughed to myself and walked off to the bedroom. I was desperately looking forward to his return this afternoon.

if someone told me, on the day that i started this blog, that i would have over 1k followers within a month and a half, i would instantly laugh and say, “no way! that’s crazy. you’re kidding, right?”

well, here i am. a month and a half later with over 1k followers. i’m beyond SHOOK.

thank you everyone for all your kindness and support!! it truly means so much to me. you have no idea how happy i am. ;;

before i list everyone for this follow forever, i have a few special shout-outs (get ready for some extreme sappiness lol).

@jinstudies: jin, you were the first person that followed me and that i reached out to. it’s always a joy talking to you and sharing our struggles that come with being a music student, ahaha. thank you for being a lovely friend, and good luck with your phd studies! hope you can come to cal! :)

@sktjihoon: josh, you were the first person who messaged me personally and asked for my advice about how to get into uc berkeley! thank you for reaching out to me, and i sincerely hope that my tips helped you. even though we don’t always talk, i appreciate you for sticking with me since i first started this blog and for being so nice and friendly! hope to see you around at cal someday! ^_^

@hqstudyblrnetwork: i can never forget about my fam - @bokutodiscovers, @studytaken, @stvdybuddies, @jiyeonstudies, and @witoko. bokuto, aida, christy, kat, ji, soraya…thank you for being there for me and for being among the first few friends that i made in the studyblr community. you’re all such absolutely wonderful people, and i’m so glad that i met you guys and that we all share a love for haikyuu!! <3

@mango-studies: helen, you are such a kind and lovely friend. you’re so nice and smart and sweet! i genuinely appreciate you for reblogging my original content so frequently and leaving me such nice comments. it really means a lot to me! ^_^

@bionctes: lily, i probably wouldn’t have made it this far without your support. thank you so much for promoting me! you’re so cute and sweet, and i always enjoy talking to you and fangirling with you about yuri on ice, ahaha. you are a literal ray of sunshine. :’)

@astralwritings: alli, i’m honestly so grateful that we are friends and that you often reach out to me to talk about life, among other things. you’ve dealt with so much, and i’ve enjoyed seeing how strong and resilient you truly are. i know that someday you’ll go far and accomplish great things! keep on keepin’ on! ^_^

@kikkistudies: kiki, you’ve told a few people that they’re an angel, but in all honesty, YOU are a true angel. you are so sweet and thoughtful and too pure, you leave the nicest replies on my posts, and your overall kindness makes me happy to think that there is still hope in this world. you deserve all the best. :’)

@lavistudy: henry, oh gosh…where do i even begin? you are such a lovely and wonderful human being. you are so kind and sweet and friendly and pure, and i never would have imagined that someone like you would reach out to me and want to be friends. thank you for being there for me whenever i needed to talk to someone. thank you for cheering me on whenever i slayed my exams. thank you for all the music and anime recommendations. thank you for the late night conversations. thank you for all the memories that we’ve shared. just…thank you for EXISTING. honestly, you deserve all the flower crowns in the world. no need to wait for a cellist to notice you. kiki is right. you are a literal angel. <3

and now, time for my long list of studyblrs that i will follow forever! everyone is listed under the cut. since i follow back most studyblrs who follow me, i have quite a lot of mutuals, so my non-mutuals that i admire from a distance will be bolded instead! :D

thank you everyone once again! i still honestly can’t believe that there are literally over a thousand people following me. that’s incredible! i wish that i could give all of you a hug in real life, ahhh.

much love,
katrina

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