looking a bit pale

anonymous asked:

☯️ Your muse has now split into two opposing halves instead of one harmonious whole! You can choose what they are like and HOW they oppose.


“Hello dearies~” A man who looks suspiciously like Matt, but with more red in his hair, approaches you. He takes your hand, bows slightly, then gently kisses your knuckles. “Lovely to meet you, dear. My name is Mark, and I’ll be taking Matt’s place for a while. .. Hm..? What’s that? Speak up, dearie. Oh? Him?” Mark gestures to another man a few paces behind him. This man also looks like Matt, only a bit more pale. “Why, dear, that’s James. My other half. Oh but not in the romantic sense, see, but that’s difficult to explain. I’m afraid he doesn’t speak much, and when he does it’s in French, which is a pain in the neck to have to translate I must say. I do hope we can get along, dearie~”

hey guys! i’ve noticed lately that a lot of gifsets/edits of moana, especially pastel ones, have been whitewashing her skin, and i know that this isn’t just a problem in moana gifs, so i thought it might be a good idea to make a comprehensive guide on how to avoid whitewashing poc/color poc in general. this guide will be split into three parts: vibrant gifs, pastel gifs, and dark gifs (any of the tips i give for gifs can be applied to edits as well – it’s even easier to avoid whitewashing poc in edits, because you can color it normally and then erase the lightening layers over the person’s skin).

so, without any further ado, here we go!

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Sorry, I was just imagining you burnt to a crisp.


I want to know more about that horrible group of misfits so bad. Jayne stole my heart and I love her so much.


im impatient for pinof9 so i made a thing …

@danielhowell @amazingphil

wow this took forever!

(some of my markers ran out whilst i was doing this so that is why parts of it look a bit patchy and why phil looks quite so pale, i apologize!)

(pls dont repost anywhere, just reblog!)

(click pictures for better quality)

His || Jungkook || 0.5

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5

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Hooked on a Feeling (Part 2)

Originally posted by impalaimagining

Summary: You finally decide to tell Dean, and the two of you move forward with your plans

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: pregnant!reader, mild angst at the beginning, pregnancy cravings and mood swings, morning sickness

This is the sequel series to Hold on I’m Coming and the previous part can be found here 

Forever beta credit to @deanssweetheart23 who listened to me whine endlessly about this and helped me figure it all out

A/N: Sorry this took so long, everyone! Things have picked up around here, leaving me with little time to get to my computer. And I’ve been in a serious Benny rut lately, but made myself finish this part up since I know some of you have been anxiously awaiting its arrival. Hope you like it :D

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anonymous asked:

So if Widow still has her normal skin tone in her new event skin, how recent do you think her kidnapping and Gerárd's death was?

I lost my first reply to this when my computer crashed, fml. 

First of all, we know that when Widow returned to Talon after killing Gerard, her physiology was altered to get her central cyanosis and make her blue (as implausible as that is). Given that Gerard is not in Uprising (he was important in Blackwatch), he was probably killed not very long before this. The Widow’s Talon skin is probably either from slightly before he was killed, )eg, after her reconditioning and before she returned to Overwatch to ‘pretend’ to be free and kill him) or maybe afterwards, after she’d returned to Talon but before her physiology was altered. 


Look, central cyanosis where the person goes fully blue is pretty rare. You do get blue-tinged skin, and lips, tongue and fingertips can go blue, but in my (admittedly) limited experience with hypoxic light-skinned folk, they first tend to go a sort of unhealthy yellow colour, then their fingertips, nose tip and lips go purple and maybe slightly blue… but the yellow and purple is a definitely progressive presentation of central cyanosis and hypoxia. 

I had trouble finding pictures, so apologies for the random foot, but here: 

and now look at Widow: 

Idk, she could already be slightly hypoxic? There’s something really unhealthy about her skin tone, it could be limited perfusion. Although it’s hard to say because it’s a cartoon, and also because apparently going blue-purple is reasonable and it’s possible for her to still be conscious even if she was that poorly perfused in her other skins, so…  

(or, I mean, it could just be that her hair colour is so unsuited to her that she looks unhealthy with it, but idk, someone chose that washed out, slighlty purple skin tone for her so maybe it’s worth reading into it?)

Anyway, it’s fun to come up with theories, even if it’s probably Blizzard just going “it looks way eviler if she’s super pale and a bit purple already”. 

Braids and Broken Bones

Imagine knowing the intimacy of hair braiding to Dwarves, so you ask Bilbo to do it, simply to keep it out of your face. But Thorin sees and gets extremely jealous

@life-is-righteous @wildchildalr

Originally posted by thorinoakenshieldconfessions

Braiding with broken fingers wasn’t easy, you realised, nearly wanting to cry by the side of the small river you had camped beside after the arduous climb down from the Carrock. Looking around yourself – cursing the bloody goblins for your broken bones – everyone was busy, and you knew your hair needed to be braided before it dried, or it would be an unmanageable mess of ringlets floating in a cloud around your face.

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He didn’t buy flowers.
But one night he just picked up the hair brush off the bed and started brushing my hair.
We hardly ever went out for dinner.
But he sat on the cold tiles next to the bath,
feeding me toasted cheese. My wet hands,
wrinkling at the finger tips in the water.
I spend two hours with my make up. He says:
“Oh is base that stuff that makes you look a bit pale sometimes?”
But in the morning, he’d keep his face in my pussy. He’d go deaf when I tell him:
I think I just can’t come today.
He wasn’t impressed at my tight blue dress.
But he held my face to the sky, as he filled my mind with thoughts.
He pulled my hands from my ears, as he whispered to me in the dark
his secrets about myself
He didn’t complete me.
Quite the opposite. I’m terrified as he rips apart the puzzle.
He’s got a mirror to my face, and a flash light shining in my eyes.
I’m interrogated by his love.
Somedays I feel like a dream house.
You buy it, only to renovate every room.
The smell of wet paint clogging in my lungs.
I’m horrified by your love, your need to read and reread
every page of me.
But you hold me right through the night.
You keep wanting to see me
Naked. The answers that satisfy other people
don’t satisfy you. You capture my imagination,
as you bend me over the kitchen counter.
You don’t buy flowers. Were never interested in poetry,
But you’ve started reading it
with me.
—  Theresa Taylor

Reader x Stiles Stilinski



Imagine: You go to a meeting at Scott’s house, to discuss over the new Beacon Hills’ new threat. There you bump into Peter Hale, who you deeply dislike, because he has precious information. But he makes the mistake of threatening Stiles, your boyfriend, and this get wild.

Word Count: 2252

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Kiss Me Not -Part 14-

Find Part One Here!

tags: drarry, hogwarts eighth year, soulmates au

Draco had picked a table near the back corner of the library. His face was partially hidden by his fringe as he leaned over a piece of parchment. As Harry got closer, he noticed that Draco seemed paler than normal.

“You alright?” he asked as he pulled out the chair beside Draco.

The parchment crumpled under Draco’s hand as he reflexively tried to hide it. He scowled in recognition, his hand relaxing, “Do you get some sort of perverse enjoyment out of sneaking up behind me, Potter?”

Harry thought about it for a second, dropping his bag onto the empty chair beside him, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Draco repeated, his voice caught between mocking and bewilderment.

Harry smiled faintly, “I mean, I could certainly learn to like it well enough.”

Draco kicked out at him but only succeeded in hitting the leg of Harry’s chair. He flushed faintly either in pain or embarrassment and asked, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

“You said you’d help me on the potions paper?” Harry said.

“That doesn’t mean you need to be right next to me,” Draco said stiffly.

“Why?” Harry asked, “Is being a prat contagious?”

Draco took another kick at him and this time managed to connect with Harry’s ankle.

Harry jumped, letting out a hiss of pain.

Draco smirked triumphantly, “It must be since I caught it from you.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “What’s this then?” he tapped Draco’s wrinkled parchment.

“Oh.” Draco looked down, smoothing his hands over the parchment, “Well…” he bit his lip briefly in thought, “It’s a letter, from my Mother.”

“Yeah? She alright?” Harry asked.

Draco sighed, “Why are you so interested in my Mother, Potter? Quite frankly, it’s a bit unsettling”

“She saved my life,” Harry said with a shrug, “Did you tell her I was doing alright? Since she asks after me and all that.”

“I told her no such thing,” Draco said.

Harry fought down a smile, “What does it say then? You looked a bit pale when you were reading it.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” Draco said so softly Harry wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

“I’d like to- to care,” Harry said, his face feeling warm.

Two spots of pink bloomed on Draco’s cheeks, “Oh shut up,” he muttered, hastily folding up the letter, “I asked my Mother about what you said last night and she-” he took a deep breath,” -she said that you were hit with it, the spell, and doesn’t know how you survived. She thinks a powerful magical artefact must have been involved which I am far more inclined to believe over the power of love.”

Harry laughed at his tone, “My mum’s love saved me the first time, your mum’s love saved me the second- I’m rather partial to the power of love myself,” he smiled even wider, “considering my situation, third time’s the charm, right?”

“Ugh,” Draco said flatly, picking up a book four inches thick and dropping it in front of Harry with a thump. He looked slightly more pleased with Harry’s dismayed expression, “This is the best text to reference for the moon and other celestial phase effects upon ingredients and how they combine.”

Harry slowly lifted the cover, he swore it creaked, and groaned, “It’s only a foot and a half of parchment, I don’t need all of this.”

“And that is why you’re rubbish at potions,” Draco said with a sniff of superiority.

Harry flipped through to the introduction. There was no table of contents and the writing- and it was hand written- was tiny and cramped like the author was afraid of wasting parchment. There were very few illustrations and they were all very small and crowded like begrudging afterthoughts.

“Books like this are why I hate potions,” Harry grumbled.

With a very put upon sigh, Draco grabbed the book back, opening halfway and turning the pages until he somehow found the one he was looking for, and pushing it back in front of Harry. “Start here.”

Harry smiled, “Thanks.” He didn’t miss how Draco flushed faintly even as he quickly turned his head away.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10 ~ Part 11~ Part 12 ~ Part 13 ~ Part 14 (you are here!) ~ Part 15  ~

Thank you’s below the cut ♡

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@renrukiweek Day 5: Proposal

I wasn’t sure if Renji would rather do the bowing thing or would go down on his knees, so I did a survey among some of my friends. And all of them said they could imagine both ways XD *sigh* So after this was not really a help, I decided he went on his knees. Rukia looks a bit pale but I guess her circulation went down. :D

The resolution is not the best on the dashboard, please click on the pic itself.

Robin’s Nest: Part 1

Summary: The Robins as Bruce and Batmom’s biological kids.

Words: 1252

AN: Thank you to my wonderful new team of Beta’s who edited this and are working diligently on everything else.

Despite getting married at a very young age, you never had a deep desire for a big family. In fact, you’re not even sure you want children. You’re fairly certain that parenting books caution against raising children in a home where crime fighting is more of the family business than running Wayne Enterprises. You spend a lot of late nights monitoring the computer in the Batcave while Bruce fights crime.

When you’re not fighting crime you and Bruce tend to either be working or at some sort of function. You know Bruce wants a child someday, but for the moment you’re both content with your lives. In fact, the only one who isn’t is Alfred. He’s worse than the press when it comes to babies.

He hints about them all the time, usually when he has you alone in the Batcave. On the flip side, he tends to corner Bruce in his office.

You’ve been married three years when Bruce comes home early from a business trip. You haven’t taken your birth control in a while, and both you and Bruce are feeling a bit forgetful when you fall into bed that night. You honestly don’t think of it again, until Mother Nature skips you two months in a row.

You’ve always been regular, so you have a pretty good feeling as to what is going on, but you want to make sure. You know it’ll be nearly impossible to go buy the pregnancy test yourself without being noticed, so you’re forced to ask Alfred to pick one up when he goes to the store that day.

He agrees, with this huge smile on his face, and you’re almost certain that he actually skips to the car. When Bruce asks you what’s going on, you tell him. Plus, you figure it’s not a particularly good idea to keep a possible father out of the loop.

“Remember that night, two months ago, when you came home early from that trip?” You ask.


“We didn’t use any protection.”

“You’re …”

“Possibly. Alfred is picking up a test at the store.”

Bruce just nods, “That explains the skipping.”

          You just nod. You wait together in the den, in complete silence. The humming is the first thing that alerts you to Alfred’s return. You go to meet him together. He has three different bags, all filled with pregnancy tests. You ask about groceries, and he simply tells you that he’ll go back out for those later. When you question him about the twenty different pregnancy tests, he says he wants to make absolutely sure.

          You’re suddenly really glad that you drank all that water today, and that it’s Saturday. You go through all twenty tests, and the three of you all wait together. When the timer goes off, it’s Bruce who goes into check the tests. He’s already memorized all the different symbols for positive and negative.

He comes out five minutes later looking a bit pale. “Positive, all twenty are positive.”

          Your stomach heaves at the weight of that statement as Alfred cheers. Both you and Bruce are scared out of your minds over the next several weeks. You both devour pregnancy books in anticipation of your first prenatal appointment.

          You’re still worried out of your mind at the idea of being responsible for another life, but then you hear the heartbeat and every worry you have melts away. One look at Bruce tells you that he’s feeling the exact same amazement as you are.

          You have to deal with morning sickness for several months, and you’re oh-so-grateful when it finally goes away. Of course, cravings set in the next day, and Bruce seems to kind of regret living so far from town when he’s forced to go constantly into town for your latest cravings.

          Bruce is all about baby-proofing, but he doesn’t hire a company to do it—he does it himself. There’s covers on all the outlets, locks on cabinets, and soft things on the corners of all the antique coffee tables. You think it’s very sweet.

          You go into labor at work, in the middle of a board meeting. Your water breaks while you’re giving your presentation. Bruce is at your side in thirty seconds flat, and then you’re surrounded by men, being ushered towards a company car. You’re rushed to the hospital where Gotham PD is attempting to keep photographers back. You’re whisked into a plush, private room. Fifteen hours later, you give birth to a little boy. He favors Bruce, but at the same time he’s his own person. Although he does have your eyes.

          Running a finger down the side of his cheek, you marvel at the softness of his skin, and the way his mouth opens and closes. You hand him over to Bruce, who holds him with a little bit of hesitancy, but he’s supporting the head and doing everything lamaze classes taught him. As the baby falls asleep in his arms he looks at you with all of this love, wonder and amazement and says, “Thank you for making me a daddy.”

          You just smile and say, “Thank you for making me a mommy.”

          You’re kept in the hospital for three days. They want to make sure the new prince of Gotham and his mother are one hundred percent okay before they let you go home. Bruce sleeps in one of those uncomfortable hospital chair, refusing to leave your side. It takes you and Bruce about a day to decide on a name. Finally, you decided on Richard Thomas Wayne, after Bruce’s grandfather and father. “Dick” for short.

          The day you take Dick home, Bruce is the one to carry him. He’s locked safely in his carry car seat, and you make sure a blanket is fully covering him, protecting your baby from the vultures outside.

           You’re ready to hiss when you find out that a full police squad is already out there attempting to keep the photographers back and that you actually have to wait for more men before going out.

          You keep your back straight as Commissioner Gordon personally escorts you to the car. You get in first, accepting the carrier from Bruce and locking it into place, before Bruce gets in. The next several nights are rather busy. Bruce has to go out as Batman to keep people from speculating. He typically waits until Dick is asleep before going and is usually back as you’re finishing his feeding.

          The next several months are filled with sleepless nights and spit-up. When Richard is four months old, you set up a bassinet in the Batcave so that you can go back to monitoring the computer. Bruce slowly gets back into the groove of batman but is typically home a lot earlier than before. At six months, Richard is sleeping through the night without any problems, but you and Bruce still like watching him sleep for a bit before going to bed yourselves.

          One night as you’re watching him sleep, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you, you admit it, “I love being a mom.”

          Bruce just smiles and kisses you before saying, “I love being a dad.” Together, you both smile and go back to watching your son sleep.


Anon: Requesting a Johnny angst/smut where he’s possessive/jealous over the reader,, you can make it however you want, and change any parts as you please :)

Genre: Angst/Smut/Fluff/Friends w/ benefits

Song: Monodrama (Lay, SM Station)

Johnny x Reader

When you entered the hall, you didn’t expect him to be there. Your heart dropped at the sight of him. He stood tall and handsome in his black tuxedo and swiped brown hair. Every time your eyes fell on him your heart would leap into something. The hands of your boyfriend that held your hand felt tight, like a prison cell. It’s not that you didn’t deserve to feel that way. Your mistake from days ago lurked in the back of your mind. His hands on your bare back and his plump lips gently sucking on the supple skin of your neck. The way his eyes would beg for consent and his gentle smile that made you squirm under him. His eyes found yours too, instantly locking contact and not looking away. He was with his girlfriend. Your best friend for seven years. Just one night of betrayal had ignited an unfamiliar of loath for her inside you. Her holding onto him like she owned him, like she was the luckiest girl in the world. She was. Anyone next to Johnny was lucky. 

“Hey babe, you okay? You look a bit pale,” your boyfriend said. He looked so plain compared to Johnny. It made you wonder why you liked him in the first place. Why you wasted five years of your life with him when you could’ve been with someone like Johnny. Now that you thought about it, it started a while back. Johnny would always look at you more than he should. And ever since Y/F/N introduced you to him, you couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel to hold his hands. Grand dinners like these were never your thing and now that he was here, you wanted to leave. But holding a sweet smile on your face and your boyfriend’s hand, you walk ahead. He was still eyeing you momentarily. There were words unspoken between the two of you. 

It all grew worse when he sat directly in front of you. Y/F/N sat next to him, placing a tender kiss on his lips and smiling. She was beautiful, you thought. He beamed too and then looked at you. His smile instantly disappeared. “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?” Y/B/N asked. You nodded as he removed a stray strand of hair from your face. You smiled at him and he, at you. The silent tension between Johnny and you grew heavier as every second passed. His stare transitioned from a calm one to a furious one. You saw his anger as he witness your boyfriend slip his arms over to your side and kissed your cheek. You wanted to smile but the intensity of his stare stopped you. “I love you,” Y/B/N said. You instantly heard someone stand up hastily. It was Johnny. 

“Sorry, I have to use the restroom.” He gave you an angry look before walking away. You watched his lean frame leave the hall. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. You wanted to be there for him, like all those times he was there for you. After a while when he did not come back and Y/F/N was too busy talking to someone else, you excused yourself too. Your boyfriend only smiled and squeezed your hand as you left. 

Following wherever your feet went, you walked up the staircase. “These people are crazy rich,” you muttered to yourself. There were a number of rooms in the corridor but only one of them was open. Johnny sat on the bed, eyes closed and arms resting on his thighs. “Johnny,” you said nearing the dimly lit room. He looked up at you, dumbfounded. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked. 

“You didn’t come back so I got-”

“Got worried? Why?” He stood up and reached into his pockets. His tie hung loose from his collars, collarbones barely visible.

“Because you left in such a haste…” You wanted to stay more. That you cared for him. That what he saw wasn’t real. You would never feel the same way about anyone like the way feel about him. 

“That’s really none of your business.” He started towards the door but you stopped him. He looked at your small hands grabbing onto his arm. 

“Johnny…I…” There was not much you could say. He smirked and looked away, turning to you. You suddenly felt small, only covered in a mesh dress that hung loosely around your body. He stepped closer and reached for your hair that cascaded down your shoulder. His fingers traced the length of your collarbone. You stepped in closer and hugged him. He didn’t hug you back and stayed fixed in his position. After what felt like hours, he pulled away and leaned down to kiss you. Your lips fit so well with his. His hands pulled you in, deepening the kiss. Your heartbeat was rapid against his, the only sound audible was the rush of adrenaline in your veins. He pushed you against the wall, closing the door and resuming the kiss. His lips trailed down your neck and down to the dip between your breasts. The dress was slowly coming undone as he unzipped the black material off of your body. 

Foreign emotions burst in your heart, a feeling you had never felt before. It wasn’t just a state of utter euphoria. It wasn’t lust. It was something else. It made you ache for more. It made you mad when it wasn’t there. It was a feeling you wanted to feel for the rest of your life. When he lay you on the soft material of the bed and kissed your forehead, you knew you wanted him. You wanted to be able to kiss him whenever you want and feel his warmth without hiding from anyone. “You’re mine and no one else’s,” he growled. Passion filled up your lungs as you nodded, wanting more of him. More of his kisses, more of his touches. You wanted him to take you completely. 

He sent your sense into euphoria with his actions, filling you up as his kisses trailed from your stomach back to your jaw. There were no words, just pure pleasure. He kept on saying that you were his. All other thoughts suddenly disappeared from your mind. The dinner, your boyfriend, your best friend suddenly became negligible to you. All that mattered was Johnny’s slow thrusts and your quick heartbeat. Johnny fell against you, sweaty but still carrying the same odour. Musk and smoke. He didn’t smoke but somehow he always smelled that way. You kissed his forehead and smiled. He raised himself over you again. 

“I love you so much. You’re only mine.” He said, voice hoarse and lips swollen. 

“I am.” You replied. 

“We have lots of explaining to do down there.” He laughed. You lifted your head and kissed him again. 

“No we don’t,” was all your said before attaching your lips to his again and savouring the feeling of him being so close to you.

A/N: Hi lads, I’ve never written smut so this is my first time *cough cough*. Sorry if it lacks some stuff. I’m not good with smut.


A Sunday afternoon at Tsukuba’s Gymkhana course

Headed down to Tsukuba circuit the other day, but not to the world computer game famous TC2000, but to the lesser-known gymkhana course. This is a large square of asphalt located behind the back-straight of the main course. Today was an amateur gymkhana club event where a wide variety of different cars were being thrown around the makeshift cone course. 

Times were being recorded, but this event was more about honing the drivers’ skills as opposed to competing with each other for lap times. A squad of drifters even turned up in their Silvias just to practice their drifting skills. 

I managed to blag a ride with a couple of guys. One in a stripped out Impreza WRX which accellerated and braked with the sensation of being blasted out of a canon at 150mph and then slammed into a sponge wall. The other in a turbo MR2 SW20 drift car whose driver was just getting used to the weight balance shift of drifting a midship car, resulting in me being spun around a few more times than I appreciated. It was a fun ride, but left me looking a bit pale.

The Fourth of Feelings

Originally posted by igotsxven

May I request a Mark drabble where, being the only two Americans, decide to celebrate the Fourth of July together and he ends up confessing his feelings to you

Disclaimer: I don’t own the gifs/ images used.

This had been a bad idea from the beginning, and you knew it.

Jackson decided it would be a good idea, and alarm bells should have been ringing from that very moment because anything that Jackson classed as a ‘good idea’ is a curse from the very start.

Lights of red, white and blue lined the garden with various American flags and bunting hangs on the fences underneath the hot, summer sky that is starting to fall to dusk now time is ticking on.

You’d never been so saddened to call yourself American, because really, you didn’t want to celebrate this evening. Not when there would be fireworks exploding in the sky. It wasn’t that you hated fireworks because they’re beautiful, like sprinkles of glitter in the sky, but the noise - you can’t handle the noise.

“Feels like we’re back in America right now, right?” Mark speaks, and that’s when you realise he’d stepped up beside you at some point while you’d been lost in thought.

“It does, yeah.” You agree, “Jackson’s outdone himself this time.”

Mark laughed, and it sounded like angels descended. “Any excuse for a party, you know what he’s like.”

“Such a wild party with eight of us.” You replied sarcastically, but grinning playfully, your worries disappearing for the most part.

“Seven, actually. Yugyeom has gone home for the weekend.” Mark adds on, laughing at your remark.

“There almost no point, we should wait for him to come back.” You slip in, hoping Mark wouldn’t catch on that you feared the fireworks.

“Yeah but it won’t be the fourth then.” Mark smiled at you, “Anyway, it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah.” You reply, sliding your foot on the grass, lightly kicking it in a heart sinking feeling. How are you supposed to have a cool exterior in front of these guys and your crush when you can’t handle a few fireworks? You find yourself feeling anxious as your mind slips back into worrying about the fireworks.

“Are you alright, {y/n}, you’re looking a little bit pale.” Mark frowns, his hand resting on your back as he watches you with concern.

You look up, forcing a smile to your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, just a little tired, I suppose.”

Mark doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he nods in response anyway. “Come on, I’ll get us something to drink.” He says, motioning for you to sit and wait for him.

Your heart didn’t stop racing until the sun had fully gone down, and as Jackson set up the fireworks, you felt your fists clenching harshly against your sides. Your knuckles had turned white from the pressure, and your nails were digging into your palms slightly more harshly than perhaps they should.

“Happy Fourth of July!” Jackson shouts, then the firework swooshes past him and into the sky, you brace yourself as it bangs, your ears begin to ring as your eyes squeeze shut.

“Are you alright {y/n}?” You vaguely hear Mark’s voice, but you’re frozen in fear, and tears are welling up in your eyes.

You don’t respond, but Mark grabs you from around the waist and lifts you into his arms, carrying you back into the house. No one else notices, not while they watch the bright colours in awe that explode in the sky. You don’t speak again until you’re back inside, your arms hugging Mark’s neck as tears spill onto his shirt.

He sits down on the sofa, cradling you in his lap as he hold your tight.  

“You should have said you didn’t like fireworks you muppet.” Mark says sweetly, rubbing your back as you pull away, just enough to look up at him.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have, now I just look pathetic.” You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it.” He soothed, running his fingers through your hair to place the loose strands behind your ears. Then moving his thumbs across your face to remove the drops of sadness off your face, all the while looking calm and content. That was the best thing about Mark, he always had such a calming influence of you.

“I am though, because I spend so much time trying to impress you and now I’ve ruined-” You stopped, realising what words were tumbling from your mouth. Your eyes widened, your hand jumping to your mouth to cover it in astonishment.

Mark laughed, “Impress me? {y/n}, you don’t even need to try.”

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed- you weren’t- I shouldn’t have said-”

None of your words seemed to create a sentence, you trailed off, feeling more and more like you wanted to curl up in a ball and never emerge again. But Mark seemed happier than ever, his smile proved that.

He pulled you in closer, holding you close to his chest as he pressed a kiss to forehead.

“I’m taking that as a confession, so I suppose I should man up and tell you that I like you too.”

You, still shaken from the fireworks and the confession, held him tightly, hugging his chest, barely speaking but keeping him close to your heart.