leave me alone i'm making a thing and this face pops up at me

Foul Play (M)

Originally posted by minspink

Summary: Everyone loves a good rivalry, and the students at your university are no exception. Unluckily for you, the rivalry of the decade is between yourself and a furiously irritating Park Jimin. A top gymnast and a basketball star shouldn’t cross paths, but Jimin makes his way into your heart before you can put a stop to it.
Word Count: 24.314
Genre: college au, basketball player Jimin, sports university
A/N: A while ago @workofteaguk was doubting my lane while simultaneously having a crisis over Jimin. So naturally, retaliation was in order. This is all @minsvga‘s fault for encouraging me to run with this idea.

Elitism brings out the worst in people. Feelings of superiority run unchecked where talent and hard work meet to flourish and thrive, where young athletes spend their days training their bodies to the limits, pushing themselves harder to reach the ultimate dream: to receive validation and know that the years they’ve spent sacrificing sleep and jobs and romance for medals, winning seasons, and future professions has been worth it.

And as any good athlete knows, elitism leads to rivalry. Rivalries between teammates, between neighboring schools, or, most notably, a rivalry between Seoul Sports University’s top gymnast and one of the best point guards to grace the basketball court. And when rivalry and hatred reach such a level, it attracts attention from outsiders, from those who find amusement from such bitter hatred between two young people. Two young people who share common goals and similar training regimes, who for all intents and purposes should be close, but cannot stand the sight of one another.

This is a feeling that you know intimately.

Keep reading

banora-white-aka-dumbapple  asked:

The minute I saw "That time a bear broke into the house while I was stoned on cold meds." I knew I had to search your family lore tags to see if you mentioned it before. Whenever you're up for it, mind telling about it? I'm actually curious how did you realize it? Were you alone the entire time?

Ok, so it actually happened ON my 16th birthday, so October of 2006, two years after we moved to CO. I was attending the Germ Pit of Public High School, and got sick about a month in.  I was the sort of phenomenally boring child that didn’t have a curfew because I never went anywhere, and we had Cody, the Gentleman Shepherd at the time, so my parents felt it was OK to leave me alone for a few hours while they did errands.  

There’s something up with either the Bipolar or my allergies, but pretty much all respiratory medications make me hallucinate.  Doesn’t matter if it’s benadryl, nyquil or nasal spray, twenty minutes in I’ll be out of my goddamn mind.  But it beats not being able to breathe. So I’m in my bedroom upstairs bedroom, convinced I’m growing an exoskeleton, While Cody sits on the bed next to me, doing the Shepherd Thing where he plants his ass in front of my face and watches all the doors and windows.

I have nearly passed out when I think I hear a weird popping noise outside, but assume that it’s just me developing mandibles, so I don’t think much of it.  Cody, being the Responsible Adult, gets up to investigate.

A moment later, I hear him Barking, and know something is Amiss.  This dog Does Not Bark.  he didn’t bark when we picked him up at the shelter, he doesn’t bark at the door or the foxes or anything, but he is barking now.  I warp myself in the Extra-Soft Rainbow Unicorn Blanket for protection, and stumble downstairs.

For some context, the downstairs has an office, with a large set of sliding glass doors and a concrete porch, then a large wall with a heavy door that leads to a mudroom, which has a shitty little screen door leading to the outside.  It was in this room that we kept the cat food and littler box, because 1. they stank. 2. Cody would occasionally want to play with the cats Too Much and they could hide in there.  

Out on the porch is the Department Of Wildlife sharpshooter, pointing her tranquilizer gun into the Mudroom.  I squint through the haze of dayquil through the heavy door (which has a window) at…

It took me a good minute to realize that was a Bear eating the cat food, because my first thought was “When did we get a shag sofa?”.  Then DOW guy shot him in the ass in the dart, and I watched as a 300lb black bear dove THROUGH the door shitty screen door he’d gotten in through (It was the kind that closes behind you) and run off to the field across the street, pursued by four agents with dogs and bear mace.

The DOW sharpshooter, named Debbie, apparently couldn’t see the wall between us from where she was standing, and was very relived that neither of us had been mauled.   She stayed with me while I called my parents, and even gave me some stickers.  The bear had apparently gone though my whole neighborhood in a fit of hyperphagic madness, chowing down on garbage, cat food, a small vineyard’s worth of grapes and a couple of Mrs. Chin’s goldfish.

They successfully tranquilized the bear, and took him up to Pingree to be hazed and released, where he would hopefully leave people alone.

BTW, if you ever have to call your parents in a situation like this, leaving a voicemail of “Hey mom, I’m okay now, but a bear broke into the house and the Department of Wildlife wants to talk to you.” is not going to help your parents remain calm.

anonymous asked:

Do you want to share a list of fics that have made you cry? I'm in need of them. Thank you!

Oh anon, I love you. Thank you for giving me something to do. LOL! YES! I would LOVE to. I’m going to preface this with the fact that I cry VERY easily and for many reasons, but I don’t do well with SUPER heavy angsty fics (like the brain cancer fic) so, read this list with that in mind. And read the tags, just in case!

Fics That Made Me Cry

like a bastard on the burning sea by vashtaneradas

au; harry breaks louis, louis breaks everything.

the impossible now by stylinsoncity / @alienproof

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction

There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.

Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.

No One Does It Better by nodibs

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Tug-of-War by @cherrystreet

Louis’ husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn’t.

a grocery list pinned to blue by dangerbears

AU. after eight years, louis finally has everything he’s wanted. except for harry.

finding you was so hard (but loving you is easy) by togetherwecouldbealright

An incredibly shameless vampire!AU filled with stupid jokes, endless dates, flappy bird, a bro man dude pal sleepover thing and there also might be some sex in strange places.

Also known as the one where everyone is a vampire, Louis is oblivious and somewhere along the way it becomes a bit too much like Twilight.

Then a string of thoughts make themselves clear in Louis’ head. First, Harry is a vampire. Second, Louis is a dumbass. Third, Louis is also unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. Fourth, he’s pretty sure he just quoted the back of the Twilight book.

I’ll Crash Until You Notice Me by stylinsoncity / @alienproof

Louis sets off to Barbados to oversee the massive resort his family owns known as Sandy Hill. For years, he’s been looking for a change in the monotony of his life, seeking adventure and perhaps love too. What he doesn’t expect is the bright eyed boy who spills a milkshake on his shoes.

Cue the summer loving.

Your Name is Tattooed On My Heart by mcpofife

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

210 Days by @cherrystreet

Harry is in the army and Louis is back in New York. Together, they get through Harry’s six month leave by sending a series of letters back and forth. They’ve done it before, and they can do it again.

And down the long and silent street by @whimsicule

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis’ past finally catches up with him.

Save your loving arms for a rainy day by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

“What’s got your panties in a twist, then, pop star?” the man finally asked, his gaze returning to Louis’ face.

Something pressed against Louis’ chest and for a moment Louis let himself wonder what it would be like to let all his secret spill out. To fall into the space between them and be devoured by this stranger. Terror mingled with bliss, tangling into a sharp throb he had to swallow hard against.

“Absolutely nothing,” Louis said instead. “Happy days, yeah?”

The man clicked his tongue once, a disappointed, wet tetch that Louis felt. Actually felt.

“My mistake.”

Louis turned desperate eyes on him, blinking too fast. He could see his own lashes flutter. “I’m living the dream, mate” he said and even he could hear the way his voice cracked along the edges. “What would I have to be upset about?”

Or the one where Louis is a pop star who has lost his voice and Harry helps him find it.

Finding Lou by stylinsoncity / @alienproof

Louis is the nomadic stranger who wanders into Harry’s bookstore. Harry is the skeptic who falls for him.

things have gotten closer to the sun by starseas

it’s strange, making the choice to face his past—it almost feels like he’s heading for the sun straight on, like he’s screaming come on and burn me, i deserve it.

-

when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

Gods & Monsters by velvetoscar / @mizzwilde

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that’s exactly what he did.

I really want to include Where Your Heart Is, because it’s one of my favorite fics, but it’s been deleted. I haven’t read Fire for A Heart because it’s TOO much for me to read MCD, but I’m sure it would make you cry. It’s also been deleted, but if anyone wants either of them, you can download them from here

BTS Reaction to you moaning their name in your sleep while the other members are around

✿ Seokjin: you had always liked movie nights with the guys; but that particular night you just weren’t in the mood for a horror film, let alone such a terrible one. With a sigh, you had accepted their awful choice, but it wasn’t long until you had fallen asleep with your head resting on Jin’s shoulder. When he first heard his name in a whisper; he’d thought that you were just trying to attract his attention, but when he saw you had your eyes shut closed and didn’t respond to him when he softly said your name, he’d raise an eyebrow, cautiously waiting for your next movement or sound. Then; you said his name once again, a little louder this time. He’d become very stiff all of a sudden and furiously bit his lip when you then loudly moaned his name. He felt all the boys staring at you, most of them with a smirk on their face, but nobody said anything as they then quickly pretended to keep watching the movie. He’d just shrug and laugh it off, but he’d take no time in carefully carrying you to his bed, where he’d knew by experience that you could moan his name all you wanted without anyone hearing you.  

Originally posted by rapdaegu

❀ Yoongi: that afternoon you were just hanging around with the boys as usual; sitting on the couch and nonchalantly looking through your phone, but as soon as you decided to rest your head on Yoongi’s lap and he started to gently stroke your hair, you were sound asleep in less than a minute. There was something to his touch that always managed to make you feel relaxed. He was just staring at you with a smile, the sight of you sleeping so peacefully making him soft, but after a while, when his name fell out of your lips in a groan, it would become a smirk. He’d feel you clutch at the hem of his shirt, still in your sleep, and it would drive him crazy; but when you moaned his name once again in a higher pitch and a louder tone, enough for everybody to hear, he’d quickly lift his head, staring at all the guys one by one dead in the eyes, daring them to say anything or make fun of the situation. Smirking satisfied when everybody lowered their heads and carried on with what they were doing without a word or even a small gesture, he’d continue to look at you with dreamy eyes and a soft smile, not wanting to risk waking you up by carrying you to his bed.

Originally posted by yoongiyi

❁ Hoseok: there simply wasn’t a most comfortable place in the world for you than Hobi’s arms; so you just couldn’t help but fall soundly asleep on his lap with your arms wrapped around his chest and your head on the crook of his neck. He’d be delighted by having you so close, but when he felt you start to whimper and call out his name in between little moans, he had no way of avoiding the rush of blood that went straight to his cheeks. He’d be so amused by the whole situation that it would take him a while to remember that you were with the rest of the boys there; being so caught up in the moment. He finally looked up to see them all staring, every one of them poorly holding back their laughter. When he saw Namjoon open up his mouth to probably make a witty comment; he just raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips a bit, in a mediocre effort to look unconcerned; but clearly letting him see the silent warning behind his gestures. He’d let out a satisfied grin when Namjoon simply closed his mouth and shook his head; tightening his embrace and clutching you even closer to him.

Originally posted by parkjiminer

✿ Namjoon: as much as you wanted to go home pronto that night to be alone with Namjoon; you couldn’t force yourself to make him leave early, so you obligingly accepted to stay until late hours of the night at the boy’s dorm. You knew he loved to be with his friends, and you absolutely didn’t mind either, you loved the guys as much as he did. But after a while you were so sleepy you couldn’t avoid closing your eyes and falling asleep with your head on Namjoon’s shoulder. Apparently, your neediness for him had some impact on your dreams; because you started to loudly moan his name and biting your lip while still asleep. He’d found the whole situation adorable; and couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped his mouth, watching you with loving eyes. He’d feel the boys staring, but he just didn’t care, too concentrated on how focused you look; and couldn’t avoid wondering what you’d be dreaming about. He’d finally took you in his arms and without saying a word he’d nod and stare significantly at the boys for a second before leaving, taking you home so you could peacefully continue your dreams, dreams that he’d make sure you told him all about in the morning.

Originally posted by rapnamu

❀ Jimin: he’d know that you couldn’t control your dreams, that most definitely you weren’t doing it on purpose and that you would be absolutely mortified if you discovered that you had started to loudly moan his name in your sleep while all the boys were in the same room; but he couldn’t help getting a little turned on by the whole situation, wondering what you’d be dreaming about. Biting his lip, he’d try to suppress the smirk that was threatening to show, but still he’d snap out of it the exact moment he’d feel one of the boys let out a muffled laugh. Giving them a death stare that would have scared even the toughest person on Earth, he’d make sure no one even thought of making fun of you for it, and he’d gently carry you to his bed, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek before tucking you and himself in and wrapping his arms around you, falling asleep next to you, probably dreaming about some dirty things that had popped in his mind when he first heard you moaning his name.

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

❁ Taehyung: the moment those six boys stepped into the apartment you shared with Tae; you knew that was going to be a long night. They were there to stay for a while. Probably until the sun came up. And you really didn’t care; you loved having them there, but at some point around four or five in the morning, you just couldn’t take it anymore, falling sound asleep on the couch at the soft caresses your boyfriend was leaving on your back. He was startled by the sound of you calling out his name… The boy loved hearing you say his name, and even more when it was mixed with little moans and growls, but the fact that you were dreaming about him would make him feel kinda proud. He’d find the whole thing amusing. But by the time he’d realize that you weren’t alone; he’d feel kinda bad at the smirks everyone portrayed on their faces. Still, he couldn’t help smiling at your peaceful dreaming face himself. He’d finally carry you to your bed and tuck you in, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, not before warning everyone that if they ever brought it up ever again he’d kick their butts.

Originally posted by mvssmedia

✿ Jungkook: you were hanging out with everyone at the studio, where they had all been working late that night due to the comeback that was around the corner. You really wanted to be a good girlfriend and be supportive of Jungkook, staying up with him and with all the guys throughout the whole night; but you couldn’t avoid falling asleep on his lap while they were all taking a break. When you started to call out his name in a whisper; he thought something was wrong; maybe you felt sick or wanted him to take you home; but it wouldn’t take him long to realize that you were just dreaming. He’d smile softly at you, and he’d funnily scrunch his nose when he heard those whispers become moans. He tried to look at everyone with hard eyes to warn them to not make even the littlest comment; but he couldn’t pretend be harsh when he found your little moans so adorable. He was completely soft for you, and so he took no time and had no second thoughts about leaving early to take you home so you could peacefully rest.

Originally posted by jkguks

Crash

Requested: Yo can you do an imagine where y/n and Shawn get into a car accident..And Both are hurt..But y/n is hurt bad.. Shawn’s okay but he is damn worried about her.. like there’s a lot of blood and all.. and all this from Shawn’s POV Thanks gurl ❤

Your name: submit What is this?

~~~

Originally posted by mendesforever

Shawn’s POV

“Y/n!” I shout, but she’s not responding. Her eyes are closed and she’s crumpled against the side of the car. She’s so still, too still. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening. “Y/n! Baby, wake up, talk to me.” I’m fighting to get to her, but my damn seatbelt is jammed, and the more I fight it the more my shoulder aches. I need to get to y/n, there’s glass, she’s bleeding. She’s hurt. I need to get to her.

I’m screaming for help, for someone to help y/n, because I’m stuck, and I can’t help her, and I need to know that she’s okay. Someone comes into view, squatting down to get a look into the overturned car, “Are you okay in there?” He shouts.

Keep reading

I am currently very tired so this probably might not even make sense in the morning but… 

I’m imagining a D&D minigame (probably lasts 1-2 hours tops unless you’re having fun with it) meant to break the ice for new groups, in which the DM controls an adventuring party and the players control NPCs as they naturally pop up. Specifically, it could help new players get comfortable with roleplaying without the pressure of sticking to a character they just made. If you do this before the character creation stage, then even better because they may stumble into a character they like acting out.

Rules that I’m just rambling out please forgive me if they are nonsensical: 

  • It’s all improv. Don’t break a scene to look up game mechanics like prices, or which checks to make, or what would give advantage/disadvantage. This is about the acting so if it’ll throw off the groove, make it up on the spot. It’s all about quick thinking.
  • No modifiers. You’re all making things up on the spot so if you have to roll something, don’t waste time justifying who would have what stats. You could even go without dice altogether. The d20 is just an optional element of chance here.
  • Mandatory introductions. I don’t care how goofy it is. state your name, race, class/occupation, a random character trait, and how their day’s been going up until this point. As many as you can off the top of your head. Go nuts because things get silly before they get really creative, in my experience. Note: Character voices are encouraged. For funsies.
  • Everyone participates in a scene. No pressure on how much they interact, but in each new setting, every player has to put one NPC in that tavern, shopping square, riot crowd, etc.
  • Plot not needed. The adventuring party strategically wanders in a way that builds a town/city/etc as the players make it up. The DM isn’t in charge of telling a story here, just keeping the energy of the improv scene going. This includes-
  • Leading Questions. This one’s the challenge for you, DM who likely already has a control complex and likes to plan out every detail of everything in their world because it gives them a sense of security. If anything, you are the one who most needs to be good at rolling with whatever your players hand you. For the sole purposes of making you uncomfortable, the newcomer adventuring party knows absolutely nothing about this town. Thankfully, the citizens know everything about it. Which is good because you need directions to find your way out of your rented hovel room let alone to the temple–oh that’s right. Who’s the patron there? You sure don’t know! Better ask someone! Get that DMs?? YOU KNOW NOTHING. 
    • Important: If the scene starts slowing down, it’s up to you to either encourage and interact with these townsfolk some more, or get moving somewhere else.

Example scene: order of NPC choice is determined by an initiative roll. 

DM: “Alright, so four adventurers walk into the tavern you’re in–”
Player 1: “Oh! I call the bartender.”
Player 3: “Aw… I had a bit I was gonna do.”
Player 1: “Okay, okay fine, I’m the owner of the tavern, Marcus McMuffin the half orc–stop laughing–and uh… I have a tattoo of a dwarf lover that literally no one else knows about? And my day’s been…hm. It’s been awful because I got stood up for a meeting. DM, I basically live in here, so I’d know they’re new, right? I wanna know if these guys look like trouble makers.”
DM: “The Barbarian’s flexing at anyone who looks in his general direction but other than him fancying a typical bar brawl, they seem decent–if lost.”
Player 2: “I’m the elven bard in the corner and I start trying to seduce the Barbarian with my beautiful voice!!”
DM: “Listen… you can’t just use your character from the last game. Cherry the Elven Bard would’ve totally seduced the barbarian but who are you now?… Nah it’s fine, dude. Take your time. We’ll come back to you.”
Player 3: “I’m the crazy old village drunkard who’s a human named Steve–”
Player 1: “I thought you said you wanted the bartender!”
Player 3: “–Who samples a lot of the wares and is thus the village drunkard! I said I was doing a bit, jeez! DM, I start rambling loudly at the strangers about something that sounds like one of those super infuriating sidequests–you know the kind–where you have to go through a lot of bullshit busywork and the longest fetch quest of your life but there’s a promise of GREAT loot at the end so you consider it anyway. You know what I mean? What do I do for that, roll deception? Persuasion?”
DM: “Nope. No rolls. Personally, I am so on board with this but I need you to make this speech right here and I need you to sell it.” 
Player 3: “Oh boy.”

If for some reason you want to try this please give me a rundown of how it went because I feel like it’s the perfect recipe for hilarious trainwrecks that come with all good icebreakers. (I feel like it’d be a fun drinking game somehow? But I don’t play enough to know how to work alcohol in in a reasonable manner. I’ll leave that one up to house rules.)

Taverns & Tanneries, never coming to a game store near you lmao

Edit: I just realized that when the group starts playing a real campaign, you can embarrass them by working their goofily-named NPCs in, keeping an entirely straight face while doing so. Watch as they squirm and laugh-cry over having to discuss the fate of the world with Marcus McMuf’an. If only they’d known. 

If only they’d known what was to become of Marcus McMuffin.

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.”

Begin — Jeon Jungkook (01)

Words: 3283

Warnings: none

Description: You’ve never met your father, so you finally make the decision to go meet him in Korea. But what you found there was more than just a father.

Prologue [01] [02]

~

You stood at the door, heart on your sleeve, along with your birth certificate in your hands.

You didn’t get it, when you were in the apartment you rented, you were so confident. You practiced this several time in the mirror, just to make sure it was perfect.

But now, now that you were standing in front of the door, you were nervous.

What if he slams the door in your face? What if he doesn’t like you?

“God, I’m such an idiot! Why’d I come here in the first place?” You thought to yourself.

You really want him to accept you, but what if he doesn’t? What if everything ends up badly and he never wants to see you again?

How would you feel if you had a happy family and then some random girl came knocking at your door saying that you were her father? Wouldn’t that be so confusing?

You raised your hand to the doorbell, about to press on it, but you stopped yourself.

Did you really want to do this? Of course you did, you were just scared of rejection.

If he rejected you, what would you do? Go home and cry? Probably.

You didn’t care. You needed to see him. Whether he rejected you or not, you wanted to see him, and you wanted him to know that you’re his daughter.

Keep reading

All this time

“Guys, just… Just stop, okay?” Out of frustration, you gently rub your temple and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s call it a day. It’s almost eight pm and we’re all pretty tired.”

The small group agreed, sorting out the papers that were scattered across the meeting table. Once the room was tidy again, everyone grabbed their stuff, said their goodnights and headed home.

You sink back into your chair, looking around the empty room. Being the editor of a big magazine had always been your dream, so when you heard you would get a promotion you were ecstatic. You knew the job wasn’t easy, but you never guessed that it would be this hard. After another couple of minutes, you left the office the last rays of sunshine blinding you. Fishing your sunglasses out of your bag, you got in your car.


Walking towards the front steps of your apartment building, you saw a man nervously pacing back and forth on the grass next to the sidewalk. You were vaguely aware that the man stopped in his tracks when he saw you, but you sped up your pace and tried to get into the building unnoticed.

“Y/N?” You stop mid-step, almost certain you heard that incorrectly. It couldn’t be him, could it? Turning around slowly, the man was standing at the bottom of the stairs. His head was bowed down, face hiding behind his fedora.

“Yes?” Your voice was weak and you waited nervously on the man’s next move. He took his sunglasses off before he looked up at you. All too familiar green eyes stared into your wild ones.

“Oh, hell no!” You stormed up the last couple of steps, fumbling with the keys.

“No, wait! Please Y/N, wait.”

Dropping your keys, a string of profanities were barely audible under your breath. Long legs clad in black jeans sprinted up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. A large, sweaty hand gently touched your arm as you picked up the keys. Shaking it off angrily, you took a step back.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” You hiss. Fear and sorrow were visible in his eyes as he too took a step back. He inhaled deeply, trying to find the courage to speak again.

“Can I please talk to yeh, Y/N? Please?” He searched for your eyes, your sight set on the keys in your hand. Now it was your turn to take a deep breath.

“What on earth makes you think I want that?” Your voice was laced with anger. You look up, eyes meeting instantly. All you see in his were a mixture of pleading and sorrow. Giving in, you searched through your bag for the pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, you walk down the steps and take a seat on one of the lowest. “Don’t make me regret is.”

Harry walked down the steps as quickly as he could, standing in front of you on the sidewalk. “All I uh, all I can say is I’m sorry, really. I haven’t thought further than tha’ actually. I uh, I didn’t expect uh, yeh wanted to listen.” He paced back and forth as he was talking, exactly what he was doing before you came home.

Taking another drag of your cigarette, you stared straight ahead. Shaking your head, you let out a chuckle. “That’s all you have to say huh? After all these years, nothing else pops up in that mind of yours?” He takes a seat beside you, head hung low as he whispers another apology. You stand up, taking one last drag of your cigarette before you throw it away.

“Really Styles, really?!” Your voice rises and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. After all this time, everything comes flooding back. The anger, the hurt. You panic a little as you feel your eyes watering. Blinking hastily, you try to fight back the tears.

“You left Styles, even though you fucking promised me you wouldn’t.”

“I kno’ and I'm—”

“I’m not done yet.” You interrupt him, finally letting out everything you’ve been holding in for years. “You said that you needed a bit of time, trying to figure out what you wanted to do when the band went on hiatus. You promised to meet me now and then, you promised to stay in touch. You did that, for what, a whole fucking week?! I figured you wanted to be left alone, cut off from all social media and get some rest. Then December came around and I thought maybe, just maybe you want to spend the holidays together. Little did I know you were on a yacht with your family and Kendall fucking Jenner.”

Catching your breath, you bring your hands to your face. You hadn’t noticed the tears rolling down your cheeks, but you didn’t care anymore. He needed to know how much he hurt you, he needed to know what he did to you. You looked him straight in the eyes as you whispered the words you never thought you could.

“I loved you with all my heart, and you broke it. You broke me.” Harry rose and you felt his arms wrap around you. You tried to fight him off, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Instead, you clutched his shirt and sobbed. His hand gently moved up and down your back, trying to calm you a little. The other one was stroking your hair and you vaguely heard him whisper more apologies.

After a few moments, your phone started to ring. Taking a deep breath, you stepped back and checked the caller ID. “The funny thing is, I was never able to completely get over you.”

He looked puzzled, not understanding what you were talking about. As you answered the phone, you tried to fix your make-up. “No, no it’s fine. I’m downstairs. You can bring her here if she really wants to see me. Alright, see ya in a bit.”

“Everythin’ alright?” Harry questioned. But before you can answer him, the door to your apartment building swings open and a brown haired girl sprints down the steps.

“MOMMY!”

“Hi sweetheart,” you say as you pick up your daughter and safely place her on your hip. The door opens again and your mother starts to talk. Her eyes wander towards the man beside you and she freezes. A whisper leaves her lips, “Harold?”

He shifts awkwardly beside you. “Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Your attention shifts to your daughter as she tugs your hair gently. “Who is he and why does he know nanna?” She whispers in your ear.

“This is Harry, an old friend. And Harry,” you pause, looking from your daughter back to Harry, “this is Darcy.”

anonymous asked:

Hey I was wondering if you can do a prompt where Jughead left Betty for the serpents so Betty soon joins them but she acts like he doesn't exist because she is to heartbroken over the terrible break up. And the other serpents fall head over heels for her (that was long I'm sorry :( )

That’s awesome! I’ll do a quick one shot before I knock out!
****

The bags under his eyes were heavy and he Tasted blood in his mouth, tearing his teeth from inside his cheek, he shifted in his leather jacket and stared blankly at the pages of his book. It had been about a month since he had joined the Serpents, a month since he had broken things off with Betty, he could still remember that day so vividly.

“I don’t want to be with you? Don’t you get it?! Stay out of my life. I don’t have time for some spoiled princess to worry about me. Figure your own life out. Jesus Christ Betty, atleast try and get a life.” He had shouted, swallowing the sick that was threatening to rise in his throat, he hadn’t meant any of the things he said but he had no choice, he knew Betty and he knew she wouldn’t give up, not unless he crossed the line, not unless he broke her heart. It was too dangerous for her to be a part of this lifestyle and he had to do what he had to do. The image of her tear stained face and bloody palms still imprinted in his brain.

“Yo jones, you gonna get over here and welcome the new member? it was you not so long ago.” An older man smiled at him, smacking an arm to his shoulder and dragging him towards the pool table, the new members back was to Jughead but he could tell she was girl, the long blonde curls hanging down the familiar leather jacket were a dead give away. His heart nearly gave out when she turned around, bright green eyes and a heartbreakingly beautiful smile.

It was Betty Cooper. Betty Cooper was standing before about 40 men and women carrying guns and wearing leather jackets. Had he stepped into the twilight zone? Betty’s eyes caught his and they turned cold, she quickly turned her face back to the newest leader Viper and smiled up at him.

“This little lady is none other than Alice Coopers daughter. You may remember her as being one of the most badass Serpents to grace the grounds, unfortunately she got caught up in trying to live the upper class riverdale lifestyle. Fortunately for us though, our very own Mini Cooper has decided she’s sick of living that boring, stuck up lie. I want everyone to treat her with the utmost respect, after all she is a Serpent now.” He squeezed her shoulder as the bar erupted in cheers.

Jughead couldn’t get her alone, it seemed everyone was head over heels in love with Betty. She lit up the dirty old bar and her laughter was contagious leaving anyone she spoke to in good spirits. He finally got his chance at the end of the night when he caught her waving to an older woman as she headed outside.

“Betty!” He called after her, watching as her shoulders tightened but she continued walking, she was fast but he was faster, he gripped her arm gently, swinging her towards him.

“What do you want Jughead?” She asked stoically.

“What are you doing here Betty, what were they talking about in there? This isn’t your home, you have to..” he was cut off by her sharp words

“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me, maybe you don’t remember but you broke up with me, you left me standing alone in a booth at Pops Diner. I can make my own choices and I’m choosing this. We don’t even have to interact. I’ll go my way, you go yours. And hey.. stay out of my life” she hissed angrily, tearing her arm from Jugheads grasp, herblong legs practically running to a trailer as he stared after her in shock.

Oh Betty, what happened?

like i'm gonna lose you | jughead jones x reader

Originally posted by raquel-lostgirl


request

written by: gaby

edited by: rosie

anonymous said: heyy could you make a jugheadxreader with 16 & 77?

prompt: 16- “you make me feel like i’m not good enough” & 77- “i can’t.. i can’t lose you”

chapter song: medecine // joji

y/n’s shoulders slouch in disappointment as jughead walks past her without any greeting.

y/n jogs up to catch up to him, panting because of the lack of exercise, “h-hey jug! what’s up?”

jughead keeps walking, looking straight as he strolls to the exit.

she hadn’t talked to him properly this past week, the jason murder was solved, so why keep secrets when relationships are supposed to be about trust?

on the other side, jughead has been hiding something and he never wanted her to know that something is happening behind the scenes with betty. betty cooper.

he honestly had never planned for this, in reality, he had fun playing with y/n’s emotions and he didn’t like it.

jug had never expected to turn out this way, playing with girls hearts? he’s getting himself into some really deep shit.

they respected each other’s personal space for they are both just introverted teens who needed a getaway with their thoughts and emotions, but jughead not saying a word to y/n for a week didn’t make her anxiety any better.

she had never felt anything like this. her stomach flipping upside down, her legs feeling weak, her head feeling light. she felt as if she never met to everyone’s expectations, she didn’t want to be claimed a people pleaser but she y/n doesn’t want to be involved in drama that lasts for a whole damn year.

y/n stops in her tracks, watching his broad silhouette shrink from a distance.


“jughead, are you sure you’re not with y/n.” betty interrogates jughead, making the beanie-clad boy scoff.

being at the blue & gold meant more quality time together and hiding things that aren’t meant to go out into the outside world yet.

“why would i cheat? i swear, i’m not a liar.” he laughs, kissing her nose. 

little did she know, he is lying. and he’s still with y/n.

“hmm,” his eyebrows raise, “fine, i trust you.”

“he’s literally so dreamy and the way he talks is so soothing, it’s like- music to my ears!” betty exclaims, daydreaming of the boy she had been working with.

“are you sure he’s not with y/n? it might cause drama.” v skeptically asks the poor girl, unaware of their on-going relationship.

betty nods furiously, answering with, “jughead reassured me they weren’t.”

ronnie mumbles under her breath, “oh boy.”

as soon as the conversation ends, y/n comes into the room calmly.

“yo, what’s up?” she asks the two girls, they shrug and talk about their days as per usual.


the noise of the television entering as white noise to y/n’s ears, waiting for a reply from her beloved.

she had never felt so deprived of waiting for something that she knows won’t come back to her.

‘this is hopeless.’ she thinks to herself, rising up from her sitting position ad leaving her phone on the coffee table.

she heads out the door, hoping for a —somewhat— relaxing walk outside.

the subtle evening breeze hits her face, making her squint a bit.

the sound of silence was always her way to flee from anything, really.

the trees rustling quietly as the wind blew them away. people have ways of relaxing, being alone or with jughead was always her escape.

the dim lights coming from houses at night made it more relaxing, the scene becoming more subtle and safe in her little idle town.

she gets closer she gets to pops, the neon lights define her face creating shadows in the features.

whilst passing by the window, seeing friends & families bonding over dinner she spots someone sitting in the back of the booths or rather two people sitting together.

y/n cautiously turns over to the window to see her acquaintance and beloved, on a date.

now you may say, ‘they’re probably just hanging out, ya know?’ nope, i don’t think feeding your friend fries while fiddling with each other’s hand is just a friendly thing.

her thoughts and emotions clash in her mind, creating a breakdown and the confidence to face them, through the window.

‘are you fucking serious?’ y/n mouths, making betty and jughead’s eyes widen in shock.

she furiously makes her way back, her chest heaving from the stress. jughead scrambles and slips out apologies to betty cooper, the girl he had been dating behind y/n’s back.

“y/n, wait!” jughead exclaims, chasing after his, now, ex girlfriend.

“was this really all a game to you, forsythe?” he cringes back as he hears his real name dripping from her mouth.

he soon regains his confidence as fast as he can and mumbles, “don’t call me that.”

“what have we become? huh, jughead? was i just a dummy for you to get what you really wanted? was i just a practice target?” y/n breathes out, obviously fuming about the scene she has just witnessed with her own two eyes.

“i-i’m sorry,” he places his hand on her shoulder but she resists, his hand falling back to his side.

“you know, you make me feel like i’m not good enough, even the from the fucking beginning of all of this i’ve never felt so- so pathetic!” she growls back, tears streaming from her face.

“y/n i- i’m sorry. but i just- i can’t.. i can’t lose you.” jughead’s words fill with guilt and sorrow for the girl he had just broken.

“if you don’t love anymore, say it,” his head snaps towards her, tilting his head, “just fucking say you don’t want me! stop lying, it’s pointless.” 

“i don’t love you, i-i love betty cooper.” he whimpers out in pain, creating y/n to sob quietly.

“say it louder, let riverdale know who you’re loving behind my back.” y/n’s eye’s roll, the tears still dropping and her voice weakening.

“i love betty cooper! i don’t love you anymore!” he yells at her as she simply nods, turning her back to him. 

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

“good to know.” her tears cascading to the concrete, leaving jughead in disbelief.

the fault is in her departure | one


pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: use/mention of alcohol, slight death descriptions, mild/foul language, use/mention of drugs, mention of violence

life is strange + college au

summary: you never thought that your departure would have such an impact on him, and not once have you thought that your return in his life would mess up everything. how come no one warned you about the devastating storm that small bunny brought along with him?

author’s note: hi hello, i’m sorry you had to wait for so long (school is killing me smh) but here is the first part wooo!



You are abruptly woken up by the deafening sound of the never-ending thunder and the abundant rain droplets splattering into your face. Startled by the scenario, you arose to your feet only to find out that you were nowhere near Mrs. Shin’s class nor the campus but in a destroyed forest that resembled the one you were drawing a few hours ago. Scanning the area, you found an unfamiliar lighthouse near your current location and decided to approach it, in hope to find an answer to all the questions that were flooding through your mind. You slowly walked towards the lighthouse, your pace still doubtful because you weren’t sure of where exactly you were. The more you seemed to draw near to the lighthouse, the more you noticed how various trees were uprooted. Probably because of the storm, you thought.

The path to the lighthouse seemed to grow more and more narrow the more you got closer, making it harder for you to reach it without bumping into an uprooted tree or worse, slip because of the roots and the water. When you arrived at the lighthouse, you were surprised to see a bunny in the midst of the storm, its skin as white as the snow you loved to form into little balls that would help you battle your friends when you were children, sitting on a bench a few meters away from the lighthouse. It seemed to look in your direction. Intrigued by the bunny’s dry skin, you tried to approach it, making sure not to scare it away but just as you touched its fur, the lighthouse’s cupola fell off.

You quickly closed your eyes, waiting for the cupola to hit you. However, you woke up in the middle of Mr. Shin’s class, surrounded by all your classmates and everything seemed normal.

What on earth just happened?




“I’m telling you, y/n! They didn’t leave me alone! It’s not what you think it is, please believe me!” your roommate, Jimin, exclaims.

You sigh for what seems to be the millionth time ever since you left the club yesterday night with him running after you like a lost puppy.

“I don’t care about it anymore, it already happened. Plus, I wasn’t expecting you to come help me and be my knight in shining armor. It was just some creepy guy hitting on me. I’m a grown woman, Jimin. It’s not that big of a deal,” you explain as you look up to the panel to see when your train will arrive.

“But it is a big deal, y/n! I wasn’t able to be there for you when that fucker tried to grab you, not to mention that he spilled his fucking drink on your dress. Yoongi will kill me once he hears about it.”

You shake your head at the mention of your older brother. Of course, Jimin will tell him about what happened, they aren’t best friends for nothing. Despite Jimin sometimes being afraid of Yoongi regarding these situations with you, Jimin could and would never want to lie to Yoongi, even if it meant for him to die. You love your brother, really, but he was way too protective towards you.

“I know you’ll do it anyway but, can you please not tell him about yesterday? I don’t want him to be more upset than he already is,” you tell Jimin as you remember when Yoongi barged into your apartment earlier this week, in tears and completely distraught, telling you how he got rejected again and that it didn’t make any sense for him to continue making music when all he got in the end was just a cold and simple no.

You’ve always hated seeing your brother like that, because you knew that no one could help him during moments like these. You sigh once again and glance towards Jimin, only to see him staring intently in a certain direction. You follow his gaze and frown at the scene playing in front of you on the other platform. Two young men, probably around your age, were having a very loud and heated conversation and probably had the whole station’s attention directed towards them. You shrug it off, thinking that it’s just an unnecessary quarrel between two friends but immediately forget that thought when one punches the other. 

Horrified by the scene in front of you, you look for anyone who could separate those two but see everyone either filming or staring at the two men, not at all caring about one of them possibly falling on the rails.

The two continue to throw punches and insults at each other, not at all caring about the consequences of this fight. And just like you predicted it, after getting punched in the face, one of the two men, the raven haired one, stumbles back and falls on the rails, unconscious. Unfortunately for him, the train that was supposed to arrive a few minutes later, comes in at that exact moment, running the guy over.

A loud gasp escapes your throat, not believing that you just witnessed someone die in such an atrocious manner. You take a glance on your right to see if Jimin is alright but all you see is black figures moving in a grayish background in an extremely fast pace. The silhouettes start moving faster and faster until you can’t distinguish them at all. Suddenly, a sharp pain starts spreading in your head, welcoming an unbearable headache.

Everything is happening so fast, the silhouettes you saw a few minutes ago reappear but start moving backwards, as if someone was rewinding time. The black figures no longer are faceless, and you start to recognize a few faces you saw when you were having a conversation with Jimin a few moments earlier.  

The moment you open your eyes again, you’re met with an excruciating pain near your temples but are too distracted by  everything that is playing in front of you; the same old lady you saw when you first arrived at the tube platform, the obnoxious kids that were still playing the exact same song you couldn’t stand and the man who was selling today’s newspaper near the exit. 

“I’m telling you, y/n! They didn’t leave me alone! It’s not what you think it is, please believe me!” you hear Jimin say. What on earth was going on?

“Uhm, Jimin?” you croak, unable to find your voice as you’re still confused by this whole conversation.

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you already tell me that?”

“Yes, I did at that fucking party but you still won’t believe me! Please Y/N, it wasn’t on purpose! I’ll never leave you alone on purpose and you know that,” he sighs at the end as he runs his fingers through his auburn locks.

“No, I don’t mean that party, you did say that to me just a few minutes ago,” you insist, completely lost.

“No I didn’t, that’s the first time I’m saying this today. Are you okay?” Jimin frowns at that.

That’s when it hit you, the two boys you saw fighting were about to pop again  and one of them would die, again. You were more than perplexed now. Time travel has never been possible, yet here you were ten minutes earlier than that boy’s atrocious and unfortunate death.

Without a warning, you started running towards the exit, trying your hardest to reach the other platform as fast as you could, leaving an extremely bewildered Jimin yelling after you. You hoped he didn’t decide to run after you because you clearly weren’t able to explain anything to him when you weren’t quite understanding the current events yourself. You just wanted to save that guy, you needed to.

Flying down the stairs that led to the other platform, you felt your rapid heartbeat as you started looking for the two boys, your eyes as wide as possible. You needed to save him. Sadly, the only things you were able to see were a bunch of people who were seemingly waiting for their train. You continued to run around the train station, desperately looking for the boy you wanted to save.

You feel relieved once you hear loud screams and run towards the noise, that’s when you find the two boys verbally assaulting each other, contemplated by the same passengers you saw earlier. Sad that you were one of them. You start running towards the two as the initiator of the altercation swings his fist completely blinded by what you deem to be anger.

Startled by your action, you and the onyx haired boy fall backwards on the platform. You sigh as you see that none of you were severely hurt by that fall. You hear him groan in pain and look up to see if he’s okay but your eyes widen as yours meet with his. No, it couldn’t be.

Jeon Jungkook, your Jeon Jungkook, the boy you watched die on a hospital bed eleven years ago, was well and alive and all thanks to you.

thelazerbird  asked:

"just leave me alone."

The Bounce Lounge was never Tom’s favorite place to chill.

And now here he and his friends stood, dancing in the newly renovated club, now titled Moonshiner, or something. It was nice, he admitted – it was darker and they played better music, plus their drinks were pretty tasty. He did miss the death pit, though. The death pit was the best thing about the Bounce Lounge.

But his ‘friends’ (he has those now, apparently?), dancing underneath a big spotlight, were kinda ticking him off. Pony Head and Kelly were bouncing up and down, while Star and Marco were hand-in-hand, spinning around, lost in their own little world.

They had stuff to do. They had an evil queen’s monsters to track down. They shouldn’t be here.

“So, did the Underworld freeze over or something?”

Tom drinks from his cup nonchalantly, ignoring the girl with the green beanie who has made her way over into his dark little corner. “Just leave me alone, Janna.”

Janna was…certainly the most interesting of Star’s batch of friends. Sure, while Marco was a pain in his rear and Pony Head was pretty obnoxious, Janna was more…upfront with her personality. On first meeting, he got the full report from Marco: ‘she steals my stuff all the time’ and ‘she loves to manipulate you into giving her what she wants’ and ‘she likes to flirt with me and says that I should call her after my divorce’ (he honestly didn’t believe that last one). Her interest in the dead made her more interesting to talk to, though. And she was definitely more tolerable and cool than Marco made her out to be. But he wasn’t really in the mood for talking. Not while Mewni was in danger and Pony Head, Kelly, Marco, and Star were far too busy dancing to do much about it at the moment.

“What is with you boys and being so mopey?” Janna interrogates, sitting on arm of the sofa. “It’s like, as soon as Marco finally lays off the self-pity, you take his spot as the killjoy of the group. What’s the deal with that?”

“I just don’t understand why we’re here,” Tom says, crossing his arms. “We should be, I dunno, scavenging Mewni for clues or something. Or searching through the dimensions. Not jamming to pop music in the Bounce Lounge’s replacement venue.”

Janna nods towards where Marco twirls a giggling Star under his arm, bringing her back close to his chest. He whispers something in her ear that has her cackling loud enough to draw attention from other dancers, and Star wraps her arms around his neck to hold her steady. Watching them together felt like nothing had happened the past few weeks – just two best friends finding something a little different between each other. “She’s been through a lot. I don’t think one night of dancing is gonna kill us,” she says.

“Plus, they’re finally making progress,” Janna flicks him on the back of the head. “So try to not be a party pooper, huh?”

Tom groans in reply. “Fine. But if something happens while we’re here ‘partying it up,’ I’m blaming you.”

“How about I give you a deal?” Janna hops from her perch atop of the plush sofa’s to stand in front of the demon. “You get off your mopey butt and dance with me, and I’ll…” Janna taps her chin thoughtfully, imaging scenarios of what she could offer…before dangling a familiar black bracelet a few inches from his face, “give this back to you?”

Horrified, Tom stares back and forth between her and the stolen jewelry. He reaches up to grab it, but fails pathetically – Janna snatching it back with ease. He falls back into the sofa with a huff. “How in the heck did you –”

“I’m not gonna tell,” she snorts. “But regardless, you get to dance with me, and you get your goth-chic bracelet back. This is a win-win for you, Lucitor.”

He scratches the back of his neck, thinking of an excuse to turn her down. Geez, she’s forceful. No wonder her and Star are friends. “Look, I dunno if that’s –”

“Oh for John Keats’ sake,” Janna takes his arm and drags him off the sofa. He catches his balance just barely before being forced towards the dancefloor. The music is louder and the lights are brighter and their friends excitedly wave them over, with Pony Head being the most cheerful of the group. Janna stops right next to Star and Marco, who have given themselves a few inches of breathing room without letting go of each other to greet their friends.

“Move over, Fools in Love!” Janna spins Tom quickly before catching him in back in her arms. In his dizzy haze, he can make out the sight of Star’s delight radiating off her cheeks and Marco’s much more sympathetic glance. You’re in so much trouble, it read. Janna pulls him closer with one arm before he can even ask for help, sticking her other out and pointing challengingly at Star and Marco. “You’re about to be out-danced.”

He most certainly was in trouble.

anonymous asked:

Yandere Canada please, anything honestly I'm thirsty for my maple boy.

You guys do realize that anytime you request “anything” my mind automatically goes to a drabble, right? You know what? I’m feeling creative, so you get a ficlet.

Canada: Maple Candy

     You giggled as the thick snow crunched under your boots. You were so caught up in it that Canada had to call your name a few times before you realized he wanted you. “Sorry,” you chirped as you walked over to where he was standing with America. “I just really like the snow. It’s so pretty!”

     America shivered. “Yeah, but it’s freezing out here! I’m an ice cube!” Once you got close to them, America tugged off his glove and pushed his cold fingertips against the warm skin under your scarf. “See, dude?”

     You squealed and tried to push him away, which made you slip and fall. “Are you okay?! Did you get hurt?” Canada quickly crouched down next to you, his hands nervously fluttering over your body. 

     You shook your head. “I’m fine, honest!”

     Canada sighed with relief, and helped you to your feet. America tried to get closer to you to apologize and help wipe the snow off, but Canada stepped between the two of you and glared at him. You shrugged it off, mainly because your sweet boyfriend had acted like that in the past. After you were back on your feet, Canada sighed and picked up the saucepan of maple syrup that had been resting on a nearby stand. “Okay érable, watch this.” He crouched in the snow again, and poured a line of syrup onto the icy surface. He let it sit for a few moments, then rolled it around a stick. “Here. You have to eat it quickly, while it’s still firm,” he murmured, handing you the stick.

     You popped the glob of maple syrup in your mouth, and hummed happily as you chewed on the taffy-like ball. “It’s really good,” you exclaimed as you licked the remnants off the stick.

     Canada nodded as he swallowed his own mouthful. “It’s even better with this.” He passed you a small thermos of coffee, which you eagerly took a sip from. The bitterness of the coffee perfectly countered the intense sweetness lingering on your tongue, and you beamed at him. His own lips curved into a soft smile, and he offered you another stick of maple taffy. This time though, a small string of candy landed on your bottom lip when you tried to eat it.

     “Let me get that for you, dude,” America chimed as he leaned in to wipe it off. Canada was quick to grab your face and lightly lick your lips, cleaning you up and making you blush. America groaned and rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. “If you guys are gonna be gross and lovey-dovey, I’m gettin’ out of here.” He trudged back towards the house, leaving you alone with your boyfriend.

     “Finally,” Canada grumbled as he wrapped his arms around you. “I wanted to have you all to myself today, but then he just had to invite himself over. He really doesn’t have any respect for peoples’ personal space. And to make things worse, he made my precious érable fall and tried to touch you.”

     You giggled and kissed his cheek, more than used to this. You honestly thought it was kind of cute when he got jealous. “Don’t worry about him, sweetie. You know I’m all yours, right?” You nestled closer to him.

     He kissed you, and you could feel him smiling. “That’s right. You’re mine.” He kissed you again, deeper this time. “I love you.”

     “I love you too.”

Holy strawberries, Batman! This was longer than I thought it’d be, but oh well, it’s getting posted. Also that’s actually how maple taffy is made. You boil maple syrup and pour it over clean snow. Érable is French for maple. Used it because I love the idea of Canada speaking French to his s/o. Fight me.

Eruri Drabble

This little drabble popped into my head after talking to @zedsdead1001 and Zed, I just wanted to let you know that I totally support you and I will always be there for you no matter what happens and no matter how hard things may get. You’ve always been there for me so I want you to know the same goes for you, Zed. I hope this makes you smile.


As soon as Erwin enters the house he is met with the unmistakable smell of something burning. He immediately rushes towards the kitchen and is slightly relieved that nothing appears to currently be on fire. His relief quickly turns to concern when he sees Levi sitting on the kitchen floor with his face buried in his hands.

There is a pile of broken shards of a mug in front of him and a misshapen lump of charcoal in a baking dish that might have been dinner at one point sitting on the counter. Erwin drops to the floor next to Levi and gently pries his hands off of his face. Erwin feels an ache in his chest when he sees how broken his usually strong husband looks right now.

“I can’t fucking do it, Erwin, I just can’t!” He shouts clenching his hands in his lap.

“Can’t do what, Levi?” Erwin asks quietly.

“I knew this would fucking happen, right on the first day I decide to fucking quit smoking, everything goes fucking wrong and it is taking all of my fucking willpower to not go out and buy a pack of cigarettes right now and just say fuck it all!” Levi seethes.

“It doesn’t look that bad Levi, you’re being too hard on yourself.” Erwin says calmly taking Levi’s hand into his.

“Are you fucking blind?!?” Levi shouts making Erwin jump slightly but he doesn’t release his hand. “I had a shit day at work, I forgot to set the fucking timer for the roast while I did the laundry, I caught it just in time to not burn the house down and I wanted to make a cup of tea to calm my nerves and I broke my favorite fucking mug, I fucking failed Erwin, I’m fucking done!”

Erwin gets up from the floor and grabs his phone off of the kitchen table. Levi snaps his head up and looks at Erwin in confusion. “What are you doing?” He asks as Erwin dials a number and leaves the room briefly. When he returns Levi is leaning with his back against the kitchen counter and arms folded over his chest defensively. “Who the fuck did you call, Erwin?” He shouts gritting his teeth in anger.

Erwin smiles. “Dominos, I know it’s your favorite, and you can come join me for a glass of wine while we wait, ok?” He asks giving his best pout.

Levi’s mouth twitches slightly and he quietly follows Erwin to the living room where there are two glasses filled and waiting.

They both plop onto the sofa and Erwin hands Levi a glass which he takes gratefully and takes a long sip. He smiles slightly. “Thank you Erwin.” He murmurs, pink dusting his cheeks lightly from the alcohol.

“You don’t have to do this alone Levi, I’m here for you just like always.” Erwin replies after placing his own glass back down on the table. “We can talk or if it gets really bad, you can hit me if you want.” He chuckles.

Levi can’t help but laugh. “You’re such an idiot, Erwin.” Levi says taking another sip of wine.

“ But I’m your idiot and you feel better now don’t you?” Erwin says as he kisses Levi on the nose.

“Don’t push it Erwin.” Levi warns failing to hide a smirk. He nuzzles Erwin’s neck. “I love you, idiot.” He mumbles into Erwin’s neck.

“I know.” Erwin responds with a smile.

I’m Sorry

Could you do a Newt x reader where Newt gets really hurt in a battle and the reader goes full on revenge and uses the death curse on the person who hurt Newt cuz she thinks he’s not gonna make it?

Hey Guys! so I realize its been a long time since i posted a fic and i apologize. I went into this really depressive state where i couldn’t bring myself to write and then stuff happened with my mom and its just a big mess. Hopefully i’ll be able to write more. Again im really sorry. I don’t know how this fic is gonna turn out because i haven’t written in so long so if it’s crappy then I apologize. 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, a swear and OOC!Newt


“You’re not going”

“Newt come on!” you shout. 

This was the second time today you’ve had this argument. You Newt was a high priority target after Grindelwald escaped. You got the owl while you were in your flat in London. MACUSA and MOM thought it was best Newt went back to New York, hoping that Grindelwald would assume he went back to England. Of course, you wanted to come but Newt wasn’t having it. 

“I’m not letting you endanger yourself just for me!” Newt yells throwing his arms to his hair. 

“Well, I’m not letting you go in alone” you counter. You hold a glare, the I'm coming with you whether you like it or not one. 

“Fine,” Newt says finally giving up, “But please promise me that you’ll be careful” Newt whispers taking your face in his hands. 

“Always am love” you reply nuzzling your face into his neck.

 With one last regretful look, Newt takes your hand and disapparates to the docks. Newt wouldn't stop fidgeting the whole boat ride. His brows furrowed and his back hunched over like he was in deep thought. 

“Hey, everything is going to be okay Newt. I promise” you say taking his hand and rubbing your thumb in a comforting matter. 

Newt looks up and gives you the best smile he could manage at the time. His smile twitched a bit. You could see the worry in his eyes and it made your heart break. You just wanted to take every worry from your sweet Hufflepuff and make it disappear. 

“You don’t know that” he answers. “Yes well, I’m trying to be optimistic” you shoot back earning a light chuckle from him. “You always were the optimistic one”  

He pulls you closer to him and buries his nose in your neck. He didn’t know what was to come but he knew that he would keep you as safe as he could. As soon as you stepped off the boat Tina appeared with some other Aurors and took you and Newt back to MACUSA. 

“I wish you were here under less serious circumstances Mr. Scamander” Tina says as you walk through MACUSA.

She leads you to the Presidents Office. Madame Picquery stands along with a couple other Aurors. 

“Mr. Scamander, you saved us from Grindelwald and we’re here to return the favor” Picquery explains, “You’ll be staying with Ms. Goldstein. Undercover aurors will be monitoring the building 24/7″  

Dinner was mostly quiet, other than the normal small talk it was silent. Everyone’s mind racing and trying to stay calm. You’re the first one to get up and go into the case to try to take your mind off of things. 

When you come back he’s in your shared room. His jacket strewn on the floor and his bow tie undone around his neck. His hair all ruffled and eyes red. “Oh Newt” embracing him you whisper reassurance all night. 

A loud crash sends your heart racing and your hand to your wand. Looking over at Newt he’s still sound asleep. You’ve always been a lighter sleeper. You wait and listen for another sound. You debate waking up Newt, ultimately deciding to just shake him a bit. It’s probably nothing but you know Newt would kill you if you didn’t say anything. He half wakes up when you shake his shoulder 

“Newt, I heard a loud crash but I’m not sure it’s dangerous. I’m going to check it out” 

“Not without me” he mumbles sleepily grabbing for his wand. 

Stifling a laugh you guided Newt’s hand to his wand. He stood up and followed you, a little noisily as he was still half asleep. 

Lumos  

Looking around nothing seems out of the ordinary. 

“I guess I got all worked up for nothing” turning to face Newt, he had a horrified face on. 

Tilting your head you follow his gaze down to your stomach. Eyes widening as you see blooding seeping through your shirt fast. you let out a quiet oh before walking towards Newt only to fall. Newt catches you and brings you slowly to the ground. He rips part of his shirt sleeve and holds it over your wound.

 A dark chuckle reveals a man holding a bloody knife. He throws down the knife and pulls out his wand. Newt scrambles up and points his wand, “Expelliarmus“ and the attacker is disarmed. He puts his hands up and a wicked smirk on his face.  

“You know, I was wondering why I couldn’t just use the killing curse, but now I see the appeal. Its much more fun to watch your love bleed to death, and you can’t do nothing about it. A welcome back to New York gift from Grindlewald, Mr. Scamander” Newts knuckles turn white, 

“You bloody bastard” Newt snarled, he was seething with rage. He glances down at you. 

“You know. I could kill you right here. Right now. Your life gone in an instant” A deadly smirk, one never seen on Newt before and hell it was scary. 

“You wouldn’t. I know your personality” his voice shakes. 

Sure Newt is usually calm and doesn’t resort to violence but something snapped inside him. 

Avada Ke- Expelliarmus Newt’s wand flew out of his hand. 

He whips his head to see Tina and Queenie. 

Petrificus Totalus 

Tina grabs the collar of the intruder. 

“I’m going to MACUSA to turn this guy in. Queenie, help Y/n to the hospital and you” she shouts turning to Newt. “You are going to stay right here and think about what the hell you could have just done” With a pop Tina was gone.

 All the anger seemed to leave Newt when he see’s Queenie trying to wake you up. 

“Newt, I’m going to have to apparate there. Stay here like Tina said. I wouldn’t try to cross her, she’s very mad at you right now” Queenie explains. 

Soon enough Newt was alone in the apartment. His hands shaking. He almost killed someone. He let his emotions cloud his judgment. He could have saved you if he just woke Tina up. Tears formed in his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye he see’s Tina return. 

“Its late so im not going to yell because i don’t want to wake up the neighbors. But tell me, what were you thinking? That man could give us information on Grindelwald and you were going to Kill him? What got into you” Tina’s voice was tight and Newt could tell she was trying to control her anger. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I just, I saw y/n bleeding and I felt helpless. M-my sadness turned into anger.” Newt collapses on the couch, head in hands. The room was silent, only occasional sniffs from Newt could be heard. 

“I could have saved them. I-I could have just stunned him a-and got you. I could have gotten them to the hospital faster. Oh, merlin Tina I might as well have killed y/n!” Newt cries out. 

“Newt…” Tina knew that she was going to have to bring Newt in for questioning about what happened. But for right now, she’s just going to be his friend. 

“It’s okay Newt, Y’n could still make it.” Tina whispers, rubbing his back soothingly. 

Tina let Newt cry until he fell asleep. Newt wakes up praying it was all a dream. But Aurors all over made it a cold hard reality. Tina glances over to see Newt awake. 

“Newt. I think it’s best to get you out of here.” she says ushering him out. 

“How’s y/n?” he asks. 

“The healers did the best they could. Y’n’s resting. They lost a lot of blood. But they’re strong Newt” Tina says with sympathy. “You can go visit for right now but I need you to come to MACUSA later” Newt nods and disapparates. 

He doesn’t say much and heads straight to your room. Newt sits beside you and takes your hand. 

“This is all my fault” he whispers. 

“Better me than you” Newt’s heart nearly stopped.

 You were okay. He had so many things to say but settled for 

“I’m sorry” His hand caressed your cheek and more tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Hey, I’m okay. I’m still here” you whisper comfortingly. Newt opens his mouth to say something else but you bring your hand to his lips. 

“I’m okay and that’s all that matters love. Now, I’m very tired, care to join me?” You ask trying to lighten the mood. 

He manages a small smile and carefully gets in next to you. He’s still hesitant to touch you. That fear in the back of his head saying he could do something and hurt you. You notice this of course and you take his hand and rub it reassuringly. 

“We don’t have to cuddle, but please, just let me hold your hand.” you ask. 

He nods and gets a little closer to you. After you drift off to sleep Newt moves some hair out of your face. 

I’m not letting anything happen to you. Never again 

You’re the Celebration Tonight

Genre: Extreme fluff (as asked)

Pairing: JK x Reader

Words: 2068

A/N: This was funny because I couldn’t stop thinking about it ever since I got the ask :D So here it is finally RIPIP. Requests are open!


“No, don’t go”

“But I have to, I must.”

“Does it have to be this way?”

“I’m afraid it must. This is my purpose in life and death.”

“Do you really have to go? I love you…” He said, his chin tucked into his neck so his voice came out deep, serious and sombre

“But I have to go. We knew we wouldn’t ever be able to be together… You must let me go.” He raised his neck and spoke in a comically high voice

Switching back to tucking his chin in, he speaks again, “It doesn’t have to be this way… Just run away with me and everything will be fine. Nobody will even realise we’re gone.” He spoke with a pleading voice, clearing his throat midway, before his head moved backwards to stretch his neck. His veins peeked out as his voice rose even higher as he mock-screamed, “But it is my duty, please understand! Let me go, this is impossible!”

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Dr. Destiny #5

Lilac looked up into the darkening sky. The summer sun has gone below the horizon, leaving the world in shadow and darkness. This darkness was all the more obvious in the gloomy driveway of the even gloomier Lastegar Manor, the home of the talented necromancer Vena Destiny, Lilac’s sort-of girlfriend. The manor was old and had a heavy atmosphere to its blackened windows, old gardens, archaic architecture and the small forest in the enormous backyard, which Lilac suspected was older than the manor itself.

The red headed woman put on her jacket, a fancy and dainty lavender thing, as she approached the double doors. The wooden doors were old but sturdy, and their size was frightening.

The last time she was in this manor, she was under the control of a vicious wraith. This was the first time visiting Vena’s house as herself, she realized.

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