sympathy for nothing

Saturday Night Live

Surprise! While we’re all waiting to die tonight, here’s a little something about our baby being nervous for his first solo performance :) I just want to give him the biggest hug and wish him luck!

….

He’d been abnormally quiet in his dressing room, and if you were being honest, it was starting to scare you a little. He was never this way before a performance; he was usually so energetic, but you were pretty sure he hadn’t spoken a word in almost an hour.


He’d made sure that when he scheduled his first solo performance on SNL, it was during a time that you could go with him. He knew this was one of the most important performances in his solo career, and there were a lot of people counting on him to do well.


You finally made your way over to the couch he was sitting on and settled in next to him. He knew you were there, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. His stomach was doing flips, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.


“Everything okay?” You asked quietly, placing your hand on his thigh gently and finally snapping him out of his daydreams.


He finally turned to face you, and you could tell by the expression on his face that he was definitely not okay. His eyebrows were narrowed and there were creases in his forehead from stress, and he rolled his lips together before he spoke.


“M'so nervous.” He admitted, and your face immediately softened in sympathy.


“Hey… There’s nothing to be nervous about, baby. You’re going to be incredible.”


He gave you that look, and you knew that nothing you said was going to help calm his nerves.


“This is the first time I’ve ever done this alone. I usually have the boys with me and I didn’t think it would feel this different, but it does. I’m completely alone.”


You scooted a little closer to him and wrapped one arm around his broad shoulders, and your other hand grasped his.


“You’re not alone; we’re in this together.”


He smiled a little and squeezed your hand in appreciation.


“You know what I mean, though.” He sighed. He paused for a second, and then looked back at you.


“What if I mess up?”


You couldn’t help your heart from swelling, because he reminded you a little of what he was like before One Direction became so huge. He analyzed his every move, and lived in fear of missing a note or forgetting lyrics.


“You’re not going to. You’ve rehearsed these songs so many times over the past few days; I think we’ve both been singing them in our sleep. You are going to be absolutely fine, okay?”


He nodded slowly and sat in silence for a few more minutes. Your hand rubbed circles on his back, trying to relax him in any way you possibly could. Of course Harry got nervous every once in a while before a performance, but this was completely different. He was usually able to brush it off and the adrenaline would take over, but now that he was only an hour away from his first solo performance, you didn’t think he was going to be so lucky this time.


“They’re going to love you no matter what, you know.” You whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.


“Your fans are so proud of you already. Even if you completely butcher this, and I know you won’t, they’re going to love you just the same. And so will I.”


He smiled a little and leaned his head on your shoulder.


“Just relax for me, yeah? Don’t worry about what could go wrong, or what other people will think. You love performing; just think about how much fun you’ll have being back on stage again.”


He let out a deep breath and settled into your arms, his heartbeat finally settling back down to normal for a while.


“Thank you.” He muttered softly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a smile.


“It’s what I’m here for, innit?”


You kissed his forehead and felt relieved that he didn’t seem to be freaking out anymore. As much as you weren’t going to admit it, you were nervous for him too. You knew this performance was going to be completely different from anything he’d ever done before, but you also knew he was going to blow you away and make you prouder than you’d ever been.


That was the thing about him; it seemed like no matter what was thrown his way, he managed to handle everything in a way that could only by admired by you and millions of other people. No matter how nervous he was about releasing his solo songs or performing live for the first time, he was going to do it flawlessly. This was the beginning of a new chapter in his life, and yours as well, because you promised you were going to be right by his side throughout everything.


You couldn’t wait to see what the future held for him.

8

1.02

A little reminder about Ponyboy Curtis:

I’ve been thinking about this for a while and just wanted to share.

Everyone in the fandom portrays pony as some shy, meek spirited wuss who is scared to stick up for himself or ask a girl out.

Let me just re-jog your memory of the time pony went out to get lunch with Steve and Two-bit, take a look at this quick excerpt from towards the end of the book.

// I was sitting on the fender of Steve’s car, smoking and drinking a Pepsi while he and Two-Bit were inside talking to some girls, when a car drove up and three Socs got out. I just sat there and looked at them and took another swallow of the Pepsi. I wasn’t scared. It was the oddest feeling in the world. I didn’t feel anything— scared, mad, or anything. Just zero.
“You’re the guy that killed Bob Sheldon,” one of them said. “And he was a friend of ours. We don’t like nobody killing our friends, especially greasers.”
Big deal. I busted the end off my bottle and held on to the neck and tossed away my cigarette “You get back into your car or you’ll get split.”
They looked kind of surprised, and one of them backed up.
“I mean it” I hopped off the car. “I’ve had about all I can take from you guys.” I started toward them, holding the bottle the way Tim Shepard holds a switch— out and away from myself, in a loose but firm hold. I guess they knew I meant business, because they got into their car and drove off.
“You really would have used that bottle, wouldn’t you?” Two-Bit had been watching from the store doorway. “Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn’t need to. You’d have really cut them up, huh?”
“I guess so,” I said with a sigh. I didn’t see what Two-Bit was sweating about— anyone else could have done the same thing and Two-Bit wouldn’t have thought about it twice.
“Ponyboy, listen, don’t get tough. You’re not like the rest of us and don’t try to be…”
What was the matter with Two-Bit? I knew as well as he did that if you got tough you didn’t get hurt. Get smart and nothing can touch you…
“What in the world are you doing?” Two-Bit’s voice broke into my thoughts.
I looked up at him. “Picking up the glass.”//

Pony says himself he doesn’t feel anything. No sympathy, no fear, nothing. Cold and empty. He doesn’t hesitate in busting the end off his bottle to fight off the socs and threaten them. Even after the fact two-bit realizes that pony was being tough.

Pony quotes what Dally told him after the rumble on the way to the hospital the night Johnny died. “Get tough and you won’t get hurt.”

I’m not ignoring the fact Pony began to pick up the glass afterwards, he didn’t want anyone to get a flat tire.

Another example:

//…remembering Tim Shepard’s kid brother. Curly, who was a tough, cool, hard-as-nails Tim in miniature, and I had once played chicken by holding our cigarette ends against each other’s fingers. We had stood there, clenching our teeth and grimacing, with sweat pouring down our faces and the smell of burning flesh making us sick, each refusing to holler…//

Let me remind you this is before Johnny died and Pony decided to “be tough” like Dally.

Pony wasn’t some super shy, awkward kid around Cherry either, he talked to her just fine. Didn’t hesitate to go up and get popcorn with her the night at the movies either.

Also, the night of the rumble he knew he was sick but sucked it up, took some aspirin and went anyways. He didn’t just sit around and get beat up during the rumble either. In the beginning he found the next best to a soc his size and ended up helping dally out by jumping on a soc’s back.

Sure, pony doesn’t go out deliberately looking for fights, but he does stick up for himself when need be. He’s not some baby. Remember, he is still a greaser. A no-good hood; with manners.

angeloaktree  asked:

Hi! This is for the 30 OTP "Who Does What?". Can you please do #2, #4, #9, and #15? Thank you! Love your fics by the way!

Thank you, darling! You’re so sweet <3
I’ve answered 9 here!

2. Who gets to shower/bathe first after sexy time?
Jughead blew out a shaky exhale as he came down from his high, still feeling his whole body tingling with a pleasurable buzz as he flopped down on the mattress, instantly pulling Betty against his side so as to not have a single moment when her bare skin wasn’t pressed deliciously against his own. She sighed against the side of his neck, tangling her legs with his own as she drew absentminded patterns across his still-damp chest.

“We said we’d be at Archie’s by seven,” Betty whispered, not wanting to break the calming silence, just the sounds of their synchronised breathing permeating the air, that had settled over them. Jughead glanced over at the clock, chuckling as the numbers ‘19:13′ blinked back at him.

“I think we’re gonna be late,” he quipped, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in the unique scent that was Betty Cooper after sex. She smelled like her usually strawberries and vanilla shampoo, and something else, something that was darker, sinful, purely her, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He’d happily drown himself in every inch of her body for the rest of his life. He smiled as he felt her shake with laughter against him, the motion sending sparks through his still overly sensitive body.

Betty exhaled, turning her face to press a chaste peck to his chest before moving to get up. His brows furrowed at the cold air that suddenly rushed to the place she’d once been. She squealed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, anchoring her against him as she squirmed to get free. She couldn’t help but relax against him as he peppered sweet kisses against the soft slope of her neck, smirking with unabashed pride as his eyes drifted over the the purple marks he’d left there earlier.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, his low, gravelly voice sending a shiver down her spine. She swatted him away, finally managing to stand up and place some distance between them before she melted under his touch once again.

“You said it yourself, we’re already late. I’m gonna take a shower,” she replied, grabbing her robe from where it hung on the back of her door. He was at her side instantly.

“We should shower together. Save time, conserve water. Help the planet,” he murmured with a smirk, mischief dancing in his baby blues. She rolled her eyes, shoving playfully at his chest as he laughed in response. They were gonna be so, so late…

4. Who tends to initiate sex?
He jumped as he felt cool hands wrapping around his shoulders from behind, palms coming to rest on his chest as he sat at his desk, brow furrowed as he stared at the cursor on the blank page before him, blinking tauntingly. He’d had writer’s block all day. No matter what he tried the words just wouldn’t come.

“Hey, Jug,” Betty whispered against the shell of his ear, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek as she leaned over him to sneak a glance at the screen. She massaged his chest in sympathy. “Still nothing?” He shook his head, exhaling sharply out of his nose.

“Not a word,” he grumbled in frustration. He blinked in shock as his lap was suddenly filled with the lithe body of his wife, cheeky smirk gracing her face as she gazed innocently down at him. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to hide his amused smile. “Can I help you, Betts?” he joked, lifting his hands to hold her hips, running his fingers over the soft skin under her shirt before moving up to slide over her back.

“I was thinking that maybe I could help you,” she replied, leaning down to place a teasing kiss against his lips. She couldn’t help it, he was sitting there, dark curls falling over his eyes - he’d clearly been running his hands through his hair in frustration from the way it stuck up at all angles, it was enough to drive any woman mad. And don’t even get her started on the thick rimmed glasses he had to wear now from years of staring at a screen. His hands went to them now as he chuckled, going to take them off. Her hand closed around his wrist. “Maybe you should leave those on,” she murmured, biting her lip as she shifted her hips against his. He shivered involuntarily.

“You’re insatiable, Mrs Jones,” he whispered against her lips. She shrugged, running her fingers through his hair, making him moan appreciatively.

“I blame you entirely.”

15. Who pops the question? (and how?)
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it for a while now, thoughts always buzzing in the back of his mind. But he never thought it’d come out like this.

They’d been making some renovations to their house, trying to get it the way they wanted before they started on the mammoth task of unpacking the mountain of boxes containing their belongings.

He walked into their living room, narrowly dodging putting his foot in the open can of paint that appeared in his path, weaving through tarp covered furniture as he moved towards Betty, a glass of soda in each hand. She turned to him, stepping down from the ladder she was perched on, smiling gratefully as she accepted the beverage, throwing the roller into the palette.

All his breath left him as he watched her, practically radiating in the low afternoon light that poured in through their big bay window. Her honey gold hair was tied up in a loose, messy bun, red bandanna not even managing to hold back the few stray tendrils that framed her face. She was a vision in one of his old shirts, speckled with white paint and completely swallowing her small frame, tiny denim shorts just peeking out from beneath the hem. Her face was flushed a wonderful dusty pink from exertion, a big white stripe of paint gracing her left cheek, a few stray marks dotting her forehead too. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“Marry me.” The words slipped out of their own accord. He silently cursed himself; he’d wanted to plan how to ask her, make it a night she would remember forever. He wanted to give her the proposal she deserved. But the words were out now and he couldn’t suck them back in, he didn’t even want to. He was sure and he realised he didn’t need anything more than that. Her bright green eyes went wide, breath catching in her throat as she tried to convince herself what she’d just heard.

“W-what?” she asked quietly, voice shaking as tears welled up along her waterline.

“Marry me, Betty?” he asked, voice softer this time. A blinding grin broke out across her face as she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and burying her face in the side of his neck.

“Yes!” she squealed, tears spilling over and flowing down her cheeks. He blinked back his own, clinging onto her tightly. “Yes, of course!”

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a common term. It is constantly wanted, sought, and given. We are so open about forgiveness: we open our arms to reach it, we open our hearts to receive it, and we open our minds to accept it.

Despite that, forgiveness has never been an outward emotion. It is not like anger or sadness; it is not something anyone but the person fighting for it can feel. This is because sympathy means nothing to forgiveness. No amount of arms can pull you through it. No one can talk you into it or out of it.

And when you think of forgiveness, you probably think something along the lines of your ex-significant other that screwed you over until you were sitting in the corner of your bedroom, your knees up against the crack. After that, you probably think about the person who helped you stand when your knees were on the verge of falling through. But forgiveness looks nothing like the people who left your heart cracked and calloused. It looks nothing like those who planted hope in you when you thought hope no longer existed. Forgiveness is not about anyone but you.

I know this because I’ve been there. Forgiveness is lonely. It’s the anxiety that comes with dialing a phone number and receiving silence on the other end. I have always been anxious, just as I have always battled to forgive. I am familiar with the beeping of a voicemail tone; I know crafting careful sentences and not even receiving a text response. I can still taste the canker sores from biting the inside of my bottom lip. I still create fault lines in the skin around my fingernails.

And I know now that forgiveness is learning how to rely on yourself. It is going out to dinner alone. It is going for walks alone. It is driving alone with your hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles grow stiff.

Forgiveness is reducing to only a fragment of yourself in the dark space between your mattress and your comforter. I still remember what my fists looked like thumping against my bedroom wall for hours. Each thump was deciding whether or not to hurt myself for all of the people who left me. The heartbreak people can cause others still keeps me up at night.

Forgiveness will be messy and your eyes will water. But forgiveness is not about beauty. Each time I tell myself this pain will end, because forgiveness thrives off of giving up before starting again.

Forgiveness is thinking, especially about what others do not have the courage to. Things that hurt. Over-thinking means finding new perspectives. Heartbreak is impossible to ease if you are stuck in the mindset that people leave solely because of you. They leave to find other people and other things. They need to learn and grow without you, and you need to learn and grow without them.

Forgiveness is learning you are worth more than the shattered pieces of yourself: you are a whole, complete person. You can sweep away the chaos and save yourself. You do not have another option.

Like the burn of your first sip of vodka, forgiveness gets easier with time, but it is never soft. It is a barrier to break through, a boxing glove that never comes off, a tunnel with a dark, dim light at the end. Forgiveness is hardly a victory fire, but instead, a past life burning to embers. It is sweeping up the ashes and starting again.

You will change. But forgiveness is realizing people only take the pieces of you that you have the opportunity to reestablish and improve. Forgiveness leaves no room for excuses. Locate your faults to make you stronger; do not use them for an excuse to be upset.

Listen to me. Being angry is easy. I know it is. But as human beings, we need other people, no matter how much we’d like to think we don’t. Being alone may be the key to forgiveness, but it is not the key to life.

Forgive. Please.

Revolution - Chapter 3

I won’t allow that you destroy yourself, Shion.


Six years have passed after Nezumi’s departure. Even though the progress of the Restructural Committee is like an untamed wave of changes and improvements, some people are unsatisfied and more than tired Shion thinks he has failed. Will he ever be able to look in these beautiful grey eyes again? Or will his guilt consume him?

If you want to know the answers to these questions, you can read the story on AO3 | FF.net | or right here!

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

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You know what I hate?

  • I hate cat-callers
  • I hate how when you complain about cat-callers, everyone nods in sympathy but nothing is actually done.
  • I hate how nothing can be done about cat-callers
  • I hate how, when I told a friend I was going into the city but didn’t want to be wearing shorts, she looked me up and down and told me that “I was probably fine but I should just be prepared for stupid comments anyway”
  • I hate how ^that is not an uncommon conversation
  • I hate how I feel the need to wear clothing that covers my body (even in warm weather) to discourage cat-callers even though it’s a testable proven fact that be catcalling has less to do with what you’re wearing and more to do with being female
  • I hate how my mother ends our conversations with “Be safe. Keep your New York City wits about you.”
  • I hate how she’s not wrong to be worried and that that is reasonable advice.
  • I hate how I know I wouldn’t be getting that send off if I was a guy.
  • I hate how I get anxious when I’m walking through the city and have to stand still at traffic lights.
  • I hate how, if you stop for too long, there is the risk of some guy trying to talk to you.
  • I hate how, once he’s started talking to you, it’s hard to get rid of him, even if you don’t respond, even if you walk away.
  • I hate how on several different occasions, guys have followed me for a couple blocks trying to talk to me
  • I hate how the only sure fire way to get rid of him is to tell him I “have a boyfriend”
  • I hate the way I watch the eyes of every guy that walks by me so I can track where he’s staring.
  • I hate the way I do 360 checks to make sure no one is following me from time to time.
  • I hate the way I mentally brace myself every time I walk pass a group of guys, or a guy standing outside a store handing out flyers, or the guys outside the Empire State Building, or a construction site
  • I hate being leered at by guys I pass.
  • I hate the creepy smiles.
  • I hate how threatening eye contact can seem. 
  • I hate how sometimes they feel entitled to try and touch me.
  • I hate being shouted at by guys on the streets. 
  • I hate how, sometimes, the shouts come from unexpected places, like guys on bicycles or guys in cars driving by
  • I hate how often they don’t say anything intelligible, just a chorus of “hey baby”s and “Omigod”s and “Damn”s and “Look at that”s and “Sexy, sexy”s and whistles and jeers and vocalizations
  • I hate when they do say something intelligible and you have to hear exactly what he wants to do to you or how he wants to do it.

Most of all…

  • I hate how you can’t say anything back. 
  • I hate how everyone tells you the smart thing to do is to just swallow your pride, keep your head down, don’t make eye contact, and keep walking.
  • Because you don’t know how they’ll respond if you say something back.
  • Because you don’t know if they have a temper.
  • Because you don’t know if they have a knife.
  • Or a gun.
  • Or just a fist.
  • I hate how everyone is right.
  • I hate how the smart thing to do is to just endure it.

I hate the implicit threat of violence there is just from being female in a public space

Tim was different after April 27th. 

If his father had noticed the way Tim’s shoulders slumped or the way his smile no longer reached his eyes or the way his voice rasped like an over-played vinyl record, he might have said something. If he had paid more attention to his son’s precious polaroid camera shattered to pieces on Tim’s bedroom floor, he might have sat down and asked him what was bothering him. And maybe he had noticed, but Jake Drake was already late for a plane to Europe and Janet was yelling from the doorway to hurry up, so he merely gave Tim an awkward pat on the shoulder and a wad of cash to cover the new camera Tim would probably buy in the following week. 

Tim did not buy a camera that week, or the next week, or the week after.

If his mother had noticed the hastily wiped tear-stains or the way Tim curled in on himself even more than usual, she would have said nothing. Perhaps she would have given him a stiff-backed hug, or a few empty words of sympathy that would ultimately mean nothing to either of them. But Janet Drake had more on her mind than a broken child- Drake Industries would not run itself, after all.

The maid noticed the sudden increase in uneaten food, the piles of burned photographs in the trash bin, the self-imposed quarantine to his room. She wasn’t complaining- Tim’s nightly excursions had always been a cause of worry- but Tim’s abrupt change in behavior was highly disturbing. The maid, however, never said anything. She was, after all, only 20 years old, and not at all experienced in dealing with what must have been teenage hormones.

Ives also noticed what he called Tim’s broody emo stage. He realized, of course, that it was much more than that. But Ives never said anything more on the subject. Ives never said anything, even when Tim’s skinny frame began to drown in the depth of his clothes. He never said anything, even when Tim stopped short in front of Gotham High one day, even when Tim’s fingertips ghosted towards where his camera once hung down from the cord around his neck before dropping to his side once they found only emptiness, even when Tim turned to Ives’ worried face and asked what’s wrong?

Ives never said anything, because Ives knew the only thing worse than watching Tim break from the inside would be to see Tim force a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice as Tim said, What are you talking about? I haven’t changed, to see him glance at Wayne Manor as they walked by on their way home from school and murmur, I haven’t changed at all.

What Lies in Wonderland // BTS’ Jin

The story of the Jabberwocky that was never told.

Jin // Jungkook


“The trial is set for tomorrow.” Particles of moonlight drifted in through the window, reflecting rather poorly around the tiny room that comprised the prison cell. But even with the shadows and intangible lighting it wasn’t difficult to read your face. Your eyes were red and your cheeks, streaked with grimy tears and the dust of the cell room. An unfamiliar, unsettling sight. In all of the twenty odd years that he had known you, Jin could not recall a single time when he had seen you in such a state of disarray. “The entire jury will be there, I think. And the Queen herself will be present.”

“As will I,” Jin said lowly. He watched as you took in a deep breath before giving him a little smile. A brave attempt, but one that did nothing to hide the quiver of your lips.

“Perhaps they’ll change their minds. The Queen may call off the execution.”

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Originally posted by cassammydean

Summary: You wake up sick, but push it aside until the boys notice and call on Castiel, your boyfriend, to watch over you.

Pairing: CastielxReader

Character(s): Castiel, Sam and Dean

Warnings: Sickness, frustration, stubbornness. 

Words: 3089

A/N: Came up with this one when I was sick a few months back. Next one will be someone else I promise!

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Hey you know when one parent is doing something abusive while the other parent is in the same room and they just kinda give you that sympathy look but do absolutely nothing to stop it?

Yea fuck them their rotting in the same fucking pits as the the first parent.

2

You didn’t understand it. How could the man be so cold? His daughter was missing, surely somewhere inside him he had to be hurting, he had to feel. But there you were, walking away for the third time that week having very unsuccessfully attempted to get the man to open up.

A sigh left your lips as your fingers massaged your temple. Honestly, it was becoming exhausting trying to get him to open up, to just be human. But perhaps he did feel, perhaps he felt more deeply than you had ever thought possible.

Turning where you stood you looked back to the man, working so intently on some device that was meant to help the team. He was always so far away, so distant. He refused to get emotionally attached, and perhaps that made sense. After all he had lost, after all he was trying to find, could you really blame the man for putting up a barrier between you? No.

You sighed for what must have been the umpteenth time that day as you walked back towards him. You could see the man tense at the sound of your footsteps and a slight feeling of guilt hit you. You had once thought it was simply the fact that he didn’t like people that had him so tense, but perhaps, perhaps it was fear of getting attached. You frowned at the thought as you stopped in front of him.

“Harrison” you start softly, getting only a grunt from him in return. “I’m sorry for pushing you… I, I just want you to know that we are here for you, and we want to help you. But I will stop pushing you, ok?”

The man stops what he’s doing for the slightest of moments, and you almost think he might give you a proper response, but as quickly as the thought comes, it is whisked from your mind as he returns to what he was doing. A singular nod is the only response you get and that would just have to do.

Nodding to yourself more than anything you turn to leave, except your foot catches on the leg of the table. You go down quickly, and without a hint of grace. An equally ungraceful grunt escapes your lips as you pull yourself off the floor.

Glancing towards the man who had remained working away in front of you, despite your spectacular fall, your head tilts in curiosity. There was no laughter, no sympathy, nothing. But just as you are about to turn away, giving into the thought that he might just be as cold as you had originally suspected, you see him turn away slightly, a hint of laughter playing on the corner of his lips.

Shaking your head you turn to leave when you hear it, the softest of laughter, as Harrison does his best to keep himself silent. But he can’t hide his shaking shoulders. It brings a slight smile to your own lips, and you can’t deny that he has a rather nice laugh, even if it was at your expense.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking” you say softly, amusement playing on your features as you take him in.

Doing his best to compose himself he turns to look at you for the first time since you entered the room. But the second his eyes meet yours you both fall into an easy laughter. Alright, you admit to yourself, you had fallen pretty darn hilariously. And perhaps, just perhaps, a barrier had been broken between you.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | PART FOUR | Part Five

Word Count: 2893

A/N: I loved writing this part, because there’s a very important hint here… If you’re able to catch it. ;) I feel like such an asshole tagging people for this but I think they asked.. so. <3 @unpretty-writer  @jinhyong @hyongtae & @park-jimeme (And of course my typical ‘THANK YOU SO MUCH’ to my wonderful editor @captainbenonduty. You’re the best. <3)


“Taehyung.” The name repeated across your lips, your gaze falling from the face of your boyfriend to glide along the wine colored stains on his skin. Even though you had little recollection of the face in front of you, each foreign bruise made painful lashes in the wounded muscle inside your rib cage. You desperately grasped for words to say, questions to ask, anything to somehow relieve the pressure that built in your chest.

    “I didn’t think you would be awake.” Taehyung stumbled over his words, his eyes growing wide as he watched you drink in his sight.

    Some form of an apology started to trickle from his mouth before you cut him off, the only word able to fall from your lips being an accusing, “Who?”

   The words that he stuttered over then turned to an abrupt halt, his silence becoming louder than anything his voice could say. Your skin started to sear from the anger boiling within your veins, your hands lightly trembling at your sides, as you ask him the question again. He had brought his hands up in some attempt to hide the shame that colored his chest, his face a flushed pink from being caught. There was no way to describe the empty ache in your chest, the way that you were so undeniably mad at him. You didn’t even know the boy that stood in front of you, yet the sense of betrayal laid dense in the pit of your stomach. While you felt as though you didn’t know him, you could feel the way his actions caused your body to react, your heart following suit.

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going to the opera

@spooky-redwing​: Fic prompt - Bucky is really nervous because he’s meeting Sam’s family for the first time

I decided Sam’s background is Caribbean. What you goan do bout it?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯  



“Bucky. Bucky.”

“Barnes.”

“BUCKY FUCKIN’ BARNES.”

Bucky looked up, blinking a few times. Sam gave him a disbelieving look and gestured downwards, at the sandwich that Bucky had been making. (Well, it had been the beginnings of a sandwich– what it was now was a mass of red jam with a piece of bread peeking sadly from underneath it.)

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Under the Mistletoe

Relationship: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1142

Requested by: Anon

AN: Sorry I haven’t posted any fics lately! Don’t hate me! I haven’t done a Pietro fic in a long time. I’m working on an Elliot fic but it maybe a long one. Thanks for reading!


Pietro zoomed around, leaving a blue and silver streak behind him, and glass rattling in his hands. You flinched as you head a bulb break.

“Pietro please, those are my favorite ornaments!” you said, redirecting you focus to him rather than the flowers that you were making.

“Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and saw the green flash in the palm of your hand.

“Oh shit.”

What was supposed to be a red flower, poinsettia, turned to be a wilted green ball with vines waving at you. Natasha, who was passing by with another box of ornaments, stopped to stare at the weird thing you had created.

“I wish I had the energy to care right now but why did you do that?”

“It was an accident.” you focused your powers on fixing the flower. It had taken a long time to perfect your power but with lots of help from SHIELD, you were able to control what they labeled a nature aura. You could see the petals turn from a dirty green to a bright red. Wanda, your training partner, looked to you as you nodded. She manipulated the beautiful flower, which you were quite proud of, moving it into position near the other poinsettias.

She smiled at the improvement she saw in her control of her powers.

Sam walked into the living room, an ugly Christmas sweater on, something Natasha would put on him. Steve followed behind him with Bucky at his side, each carrying giant boxes of decorations.

You smiled, an influx of flowers growing and gathering as Wanda scurried to have them in position. Christmas with your team was perhaps your new favorite thing.

Natasha, looking gorgeous, stood leaning back some as she stared at Wanda and yours hard work. She felt the petals of the flower.

“Good work. Are you going to conjure up mistletoe next?”

“Why would I?”

“It’s a Christmas tradition. And you might get a chance to have sex with a certain someone.” she said as she wiggled her eyebrows.

You blushed and looked down at your hands. Wanda laughed, knowing exactly who the certain someone was, and although it did gross her out to think about it, she did like to tease you about your little crush on her twin.

“Nat, I will grow poison ivy in your bed if you don’t shut the hell up.”

“Sure you will.” Natasha rolled heard this. She knew you wouldn’t and it was obvious. You were full of sadness if you even harmed a flower but in your tactics on the field, it was like you altered into someone else, no remorse, no sympathy and no emotions. Nothing.

“She will. She set worms from her little garden to crawl under my sheets,” Pietro chimed in. He could still feel the slimy slithers across his skin when he though too much about that moment. “Why not make it snow?”

The red that had flowed into your cheeks had vanished and replaced with a serious expression.

“That’d be a lot of work Pietro.”


Clint brought his family, very much so sneakily than you knew he was capable of, to the Avenger’s tower. The kids had immediately run to Natasha as you watched beside Pietro with an arm around his waist and his arm around your shoulders. You were freezing but Pietro was like a fire as you were pushed against his side.

“The party is here!” Clint announced holding up alcohol for everyone to see.

“The party has actually been here for a while, you just so happened to bring alcohol.” Natasha said smirking at Clint.

He rolled his eyes and walked beside his wife to the kitchen counter. “Funny, Nat.”

You looked up at Pietro, just a quick glance but it was long enough for him to notice and wink at you. He had known that you felt something more than friendship for him as did he. Pietro watched you turn away from him and inch farther away from him which did sting a little.

All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide under the blankets that were strewn across your bed but you didn’t want to just disappear, someone would notice, most likely it would be Natasha but then again the party would be exciting. It was bound to be seeing as who was there.

Bucky was grumpy but had the kids hanging off his arms like he was their own jungle gym. Steve had just sat and drew the scene as it unfolded. The party, even with Tony’s presence which was somewhat decent- possibly Pepper’s doing- was enjoyable, something you hadn’t expected.

You leaned against a wall, practicing- more like playing than anything- with your powers. You loved what you were capable of and still explored what else you could do.

“Hello.” you heard the familiar accent of your favorite speedster and a smile, albeit a small one, tugged at your lips.

“From the other side.” you whispered under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He looked at you intently. You hadn’t realized it but he had actually been making you step back and underneath the large doorway. It was as if you were hypnotized by his electric blue eyes and his lips. There was something inside you that told you to run, to bottle up your feelings for him and bury them six feet under in the middle of nowhere.

“Would you look at that, dragă, mistletoe.”

“What?” you asked. Pietro with a smirk, pointed at the small, green plant that was hanging over you heads. “How did that get there?”

Unknown to you, Wanda stood not far off in the kitchen keeping the mistletoe floating above the two of you.

“I get a kiss, no? That is according to the tradition.”

“I guess so.”

Pietro flashed you a bright smile that made your heart flutter. His warm lips were against your own and you could taste peppermint on them, his hands hot against your sides, burning you with his touch. You felt his hair tickle your nose as you moved against him. What were you doing? You pulled apart from him, your hands against his chest.

“Amazing.” he whispered trying to step closer to you.

“I’ve got to go.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to catch your arm in a loose grip. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just feel a bit dizzy.” you said not so convincingly.

“Am I that good of a kisser?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he would joke around.

“Good night Pietro.”

He watched sadly as you disappeared into the maze of the building. His arms hung and for what felt like the first time in a while, he felt slow not the ever fastness that came with having his powers.

“She likes you, kid.” Natasha said, clapping his shoulder and walking off towards the group.

Time of your life.

SYNOPSIS: A story about how someone you met by accident managed to give you the times of your life.

GENRE: MEGA FLUFF, MEGA ANGST. MEGA SAD.

WARNINGS: INFERTILITY. ILLNESS. BLOOD.

WORDS: 3011.

It all began when you were eighteen. Sitting in the cinema lobby with your ankles crossed, looking intently to the door where your date should have met you 30 minutes ago. It was a blind date your friend had sent you on, begrudgingly you went, even if you didn’t really like being set up with a random stranger. You sigh, as you look at the movie titles on the wall, you should have been in there talking about something and seeing if you matched. But you weren’t. Instead you were sitting waiting and feeling like you had been stood up.

“—Hey, are you, by any chance, my date?”

The voice beside you startles you, and you turn to face him. His russet brown eyes seeming as confused as yours. He was tall, with silky hair, and a rectangular smile that was infectious to you. And you laughed as he mentioned how he had been waiting beside you for thirty minutes while you were waiting for him.

“I must be.” You laugh, as he takes your hand and pulls you up.

“I’m Taehyung. I guess I should have guessed earlier.” He chuckles.

“Y/N. And I’m happy you guessed at all.”

As you went to the theater and took your seats, you laughed at the movie adverts, got told to be quiet by the elderly couple behind you. Pulled guilty faces which you then laughed at after, your hands met in the popcorn before jokingly he took the popcorn from between you and hoarded it to himself. Physically making you stretch over to steal some. On the way home, you talked about the movie, and then yourselves, then dogs and then the stars. For people who only met four hours before, you seemed much closer than that.

And when you waved him off as you shut the door you smiled to yourself, and when he walked home, his heart was on fire. Little did you both know, you met by accident. He wasn’t your date. And you weren’t his. But things were better that way.


The next day you went to the city together, and showed each other the texts you had both received the night before from your friends.

“You weren’t my date.” You laugh, shoving him gently.

“But I am now, right?” He smiled at you again, and you took a picture of him, causing him to try and take your phone off of you but you make a run for it, chasing each other around the bus shelter and missing your first two buses.

This is how your days went in that first year, lying around together, playing games, it all went so fast but you had the time of your life with Taehyung. He made you happier than anyone else could and you had only met by accident. You would fall asleep texting each other, leave dumb presents at each others doors and run, never saying how much you loved each other out loud even though everyone already knew. Because loving someone is having the time of your life.


The next two years were stressful. You were buried in books and he was buried in work, but you pulled through together. While you were writing notes upon notes for college, he was singing. On your breaks you would nap together, or talk about everything that could come from work. Maybe everything that could come from pulling each other through. Everything you wanted to be and everything you could be together. 

Every time you looked at your screen savor you smiled. You and him in the carnival that night, when you were getting your picture taken with a giant stick of cotton candy, he had decided to take a chunk out of it with his teeth. In the picture; your mouth is gaped in shock, but your smiling and he’s grinning at you with your candy floss hanging from his mouth. You loved him and he loved you and after three years, both of you were ready to accept it.


It was when you were twenty one did you decide to move in together, photos squandered across your apartment, pictures of you and him in front of the white door each holding a key and clinking them together, a picture of you in October with your arm in a cast in front of the tv, from falling trying to help him carry the tv up the flight of stairs because someone was too stubborn to take the elevator. A picture of him crying in hospital when he broke his fingers by slamming them in the door after you told him you liked EXO better as a joke. The picture of you reassuring him that you loved BTS more. And the picture of you two on the terrace watching the sun come up after a night of non stop talking.

Living together meant that the times of your lives weren’t restricted to hours, or days. You could spent them together. No more running through the ice and snow on Christmas to leave a gift at the door, no more asking about meeting up for costumes on Hallowe’en, everything was right here in the room. And your third year together was blissful and gentle, just how falling asleep beside him was, aside from the snoring but you could live with that.


The fourth year together was marked by one moment. When the door to your apartment burst open and a small brown puppy bounded towards you. You were lying on the couch and it jumped up onto you, showering you in licks and kisses. You smiled, running your hand over it’s head and nuzzling your face into its nose. You and Tae had been trying for a kid, but it wasn’t getting anywhere.

Maybe it was your impatience or maybe it just wasn’t working but this had brightened your year, the big red bow attached to its colour, it’s chocolate coloured eyes. And slowly, your eyes filled with tears as you smiled and held it tight.

“Why are you crying? Look he loves you!” Tae says, kneeling beside you.

But you place your free hand behind his head and pull him closer to you so that he wraps his arms around you.

“And I love you.”


When you were twenty three, more photos littered your apartment, photos of you being dragged down snowy streets by Eddie (your dog) Photos of you and Taehyung by the fire, or in the kitchen,or just about town. Videos on your phone of how you stood behind stage at concerts, how you passed them water as fast as you could and offered him a peck on the cheek as he walked past. Videos of how he would say “Marry me.” As a joke when you did something stupid and videos upon videos of you asleep with Eddie in beside you.

These were the times of your life. However, the times of your life are not always good. In this year, you would have pregnancy test after pregnancy test, failure after failure. And he would come home with your favourite food to see you on the couch with a stick in your hands and Eddie resting his head on your knees in sympathy.

“Nothing?” He would ask, putting the bag on the table, trying to conceal the equal amount of disappointment in his voice and in his heart.

“Nothing.”

But you would pick up, you would still dance in the living room together, cry at dumb movies together, laugh when only one of you was crying and the other was perfectly fine. You would still ding dong ditch the old neighbors regardless of what age you were. On late nights when neither of you felt like sleeping in bed, you would share the couch and talk about all the weird and wonderful things your imagination could dream of. And you would sit in silence and wonder just how you found someone so suited to you by accident.

“Isn’t it weird how you pretend to be asleep so you can actually fall asleep?” You murmur. It’s dark in your living room but you can feel him smiling and then you  hear him laugh before you feel him sit up and realise that what you said was true as he turns the lamp on.

“Why would you tell me that!”

Pulling the blanket more over your self you smile at him. Now both of you are infectious with laughter.

“I’m never going to sleep again because of you.”


On your sixth year together he proposed to you on a walk. The autumn leaves tumbling across your feet as Eddie ravaged in a pile of orange, yellow and brown that littered across the grass. Taehyung got down on one knee in the middle of the path and pretended to do up his shoe. You gasped but your face dropped at his prank and you shoved him lightly.

“Hey! That’s not funny.” You retort, but your smiling, and laughing through your nose as you pull your hat down over your ears to hide your embarrassment.

“Eddie!” You call, as you hear him annoying some other dogs, but you feel a gloved hand hold yours from the path and you look down, to still see Taehyung kneeling.

“What are–” You begin.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, his wry grin causing your mouth to open. He wasn’t kidding.

“I know we met by accident. And you should have went to the movies with someone else that night. But I’m happy you went with me instead. I’m happy that you stayed with me instead. I’m happy that you’re living with me instead. And if you’ll have me– I’ll be happy to be your husband instead.”

That was one of the defining moments of your life, as your knees buckle and you fall, wrapping your arms around him before you can even say yes. But at this point you didn’t need to.


He went on tour that year for a few months but you made sure to phone him every day and Skype him every few days when he could answer. The boys would demand to see the ring on your finger and tease Taehyung every time he smiled at something you said. Most people say love fades after a while, but yours never faltered. 

You never kept anything from Taehyung until now. This tour was important to him, and you didn’t want to jeopardize that. You see, you were sick. Really sick. Your nose bleeds were out of control, you were tired and weak and were never hungry anymore. Eddie would rest his head on you to tell you something was wrong, but you couldn’t tell Tae. At least not yet. On Skype, he would ask how you were feeling because you looked a little pale, but you blamed it on the camera, if your nose bled you would tell him that you banged it off something or that you fell. 

Your brother stayed with you for a few months while Tae was gone, taking care of you, shopping for you and helping you around. He drove you around, took Eddie out for walks and basically made sure that you made it to the doctors and took your medicine.

It was your brother who drove you to the airport to pick up Taehyung. And he ran to you as soon as he seen you, throwing his arms around you and lifting you up. 

“I missed you!” Tae grinned.

“Not as much as I missed you!”

In the car home, you talked as if he had never left, about all the things you had planned for the year and all the things he wanted to do and places he wanted to take you too. Your brother looks to you as your smiling, how excited you are to do all these things that you know might not happen. Your brothers heart is heavy, his frown is heavy, the thought of his sister not being able to follow all these wishes makes his tears heavy as they brim in his eyes. 

Taehyung asks if your brother is alright and your brother nods, knowing that you wanted to tell Taehyung yourself. Kissing your brother on the forehead you get out of the car, holding Taehyung’s hand and going back to the apartment. 

Eddie looks to Taehyung first as the door opens, excited and jumpy but does not run to him and instead, the dog walks to you, nudging your knees with his nose, whistling as if he were crying. You kneel down and hug him and Eddie whines into your shoulder.

You move to the couch and sit down, to which the dog follows intently, resting his head on your knees once you sit. And Taehyung knew then that something was wrong. Your eyes were brimming with tears, and you bite into your lip. You at least wanted Taehyung to be able to come home first, to be happy for a while. But Eddie would know what was best.

“I’m— I’m sick.”

Taehyung can feel his world crashing down, his heart plummeting to the depth of his stomach, he’s shaking his head as he takes a seat beside you.

“And– I might not get better.”

He holds you then in his arms, while you sigh, and he cries into your shoulder. The times of your life can’t always be perfect times, but simply times that define the way you will sway.


In your seventh year of being together, he took care of you. He brought you shopping, and held your hand, he made sure you were comfy before himself. He made dinners and moved things out of your way when you struggled with your strength and never once did he make you feel like a burden. Taehyung made sure you still went outside, you still picked flowers on walks and went to cafés which you loved. At least for a while.

Soon you didn’t go anywhere, but you were fine with that. Because he spent his time on the couch beside you, not because he had to, but because you were his best friend and he would much rather spend his time beside you than beside anyone else.

“Look Look what Eddie can do!” You say. “Can you get me the remote?” You ask, smiling down at him. 

Eddie stares at you for a moment and then sits down. Taehyung bursts into laughter holding his stomach as you smile at Eddie and start to laugh with your fiance. 

“Close enough.”


“Happy eight years.” He grins to you across the table.

“Happy eight years.” You repeat.

You went to a restaurant for your eighth year of accidentally meeting each other and it was blissful, how you slurped spaghetti together in front of all the other civilized customers, how you shoveled cake into you even though you weren’t feeling that hungry and how when your nose started to bleed, his placed a tissue gently over your nose for you to stop you feeling embarrassed.

When you got to the apartments, he carried you to the elevator and didn’t set you down, he carried you through the door and placed you gently on the bed. And you, Taehyung and your dog lay happily staring at the ceiling until you fell asleep.

Two days later, Taehyung had gone grocery shopping while you watched television. He had only gone for an hour, but as he stepped out of the elevator, plastic bags in both hands, he stopped. The sound of high pitched whining and barks echoing through the hall way. His heart stopped, and his stomach churned as he dropped the bags and stumbled in putting his key in the door. 

“Come on, Please not now, not now!” He begged, forcing the door open to see Eddie with his chin on your stomach and you, almost looking as if you were asleep aside from the red across your cheek from your nose bleed.

His breath was stuck in his lungs as he didn’t hesitate to put his arms under you and carry you out of there. He phoned for Jin to mind Eddie while he held you in the elevator as he gently tried to shake you awake.

“No you can’t do this to me. Don’t do this. Please wake up. Please.”

He was crying, his rectangular smile almost unforeseeable from such a man, tears were cascading down his cheeks and onto your jacket, as he made it into the hospital only minutes later.

“I’m not ready for you to go. Don’t—- this isn’t supposed to happen to us.” He sobs quietly to himself as he stands in the hospital lobby, looking left and right for someone to help him, for someone to save you.

You wake up with tubes in your nose, fingers etching over their odd plastic material, your hair is a mess, and your jacket is damp from his tears. He’s sitting at the bedside, smile breaking onto his face as yours soon follows, but yours is much more drowsy and tired, but still effortless.

“Are you okay?” You say, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

And he starts to cry.


It’s only two days later; you find out that your chances of making it are slim and your heart sinks as Tae intertwines his fingers with yours. The doctor leaves you alone for a moment, and Taehyung looks to you, eyes glimmering with faint sadness and his shoulders tight with tense disappointment.

“I’m not ready for you to go. You’re my best friend, we’re meant to be in this together, forever. It’s not supposed to end here, we talked about a forever and this— this isn’t it.” He sobs, but you wipe his tears from his cheeks despite your own.

“I know. I know we did, but don’t cry, there’s always a tomorrow and I know we didn’t see this coming, but in the end, it’s all right. Just remember that—

You’ve given me the time of my life.”

I’m not even surprised nor i expect better from all the clowns who are reblogging that post about punching, disrespecting and wanting to humiliate Kishi at Comic Con but it does anger me.

This is why you all deserve no sympathy, you’re nothing but a bunch of self entitled immature teens because in what world does it make sense to be rude and disrespect an author for the ending he gave to HIS own fucking manga.

Kishimoto /wants/ to interact with his international fans and you all thinking he should be humiliated just because you didn’t got what you wanted, you are all fucking disgusting.

This fandom has sunk so low, all the lies, fake interviews, insults and now this, to think you’re capable of so much just because of a manga is scary, eat an ass @ all users supporting those disgusting posts. None of you deserve the slightest sympathy nor having things go the way you want.

The Cost

Title: The Cost (Part One)

Characters: Dean x Reader (in next part), Sam

Summary: The reader went off on her own and fell into a streak of reckless hunting after her brother was killed on a hunt. When the Winchesters show up unexpectedly three years later, she is less than thrilled to see them.  

Word Count: 2,213

Warnings: mention of character death, profanity, Dean’s an asshole, ANGST

POV: Readers, 2nd person

A/N: heads up- this fic has so much angst in it omg haahaha. I actually have the whole thing written but I have to edit part two and finish up the ending, so I can definitely have it posted in the next three days or so. This part is mostly a set up for the next part, which is super dialogue heavy. Please let me know if you like it or want part two sooner than planned! It’s always easier to push myself to get crap down when I know people want it haha

Loosely based off a request by sidneyleanne13​. It’s different than what you asked for so I hope this is okay! I kinda just go wherever the inspiration takes me and this is what happened. But I still had the whole Dean/Reader don’t get along bit, so I hope this works for you :) If you want me to do another fic closer to the original request, just let me know and I’ll put it back on the list!

Nothing could ever compare to the high of a hunt.

Nothing even comes close to the blaze of adrenaline sweeping through your bloodstream as the blade, firmly pressed within your grasp, ripped through the bodies of monsters solely intent on your demise. Booze and pills could only get you so far. This was a release unlike any other.

There was something about not knowing whether you’d make it out of the building alive that carried a vigorous rush through you. You were more alert, your instincts sharper, your body aligned perfectly with your mind. It was exhilarating. Dangerous, definitely. But moments like these… moments when the sharp edge of your enemy’s blade cuts inches away from your carotid artery, those were the only times you didn’t feel completely numb. Those were the moments you lived for. Those were the only moments you felt alive. Those were the moments you craved like an addiction.

You were a goddamn titan in the face death himself and you laughed.

Keep reading

Annoying Part 3 - Luke

Requested 🎉 - Part 3! I hope you like it!

Part 1 - http://lose-yourself-in-a-story.tumblr.com/post/136002321115/annoying-luke

Part 2 - http://lose-yourself-in-a-story.tumblr.com/post/136071846505/annoying-part-2-luke

————

“Luke?” You prod his side.

“No” he buries his head further into your pillow.

“Luke!” You hit his arm.

“What?” He groans.

“You need to leave”

“Nice” he opens one eye.

“Well, I was going to leave before you woke up, to avoid any awkwardness.” You chew on your lip.

“So why are you still here? And why are you waking me up?” He turns over.

“Because I realised this is my room! In my house! So you need to go back downstairs before Ash wakes up.” You tug at his arm.

“Fine” he grumbles, pulling on his boxers.

“Go!” You shove him out the door.

“What? No goodbye kiss?” He laughs.

“Shut up. Last night will never be mentioned again.” You frown at him.

“Until you’re finding yourself wanting me again?” He doesn’t look convinced.

“Not gonna happen”

“We’ll see about that” he winks before heading down the stairs.

-

“Cup of tea?” Your brother asks as you walk in the kitchen.

“Um..yeah, please” you glance at Luke, “oh my god, can you not just buy some cereal to leave here?!”

“But it tastes so much better when I know it’s yours” he replies, his mouth full.

“You’re a dick”

“Oh, you don’t mean that, baby” he has a smug look on his face. Your eyes widen as he says the name he’d repeatedly called you the night before.

“You’re annoying”

“Full of compliments today, aren’t you?” He grins “Is there nothing nice you can say about me? Nothing you think I’m good at?” You can see Ash’s confused face at your interaction.

“No, absolutely nothing” you swallow, leaving the room before he can say at thing else.

-

“What is wrong with you?” Ruby stills your hands that have been tapping on the side of the table.

“What? Nothing” you shrug, taking a sip of your now cold coffee.

“You’re a crap liar” she tilts her head to the side, in a sympathetic way “is this about Will? You haven’t seen him again, have you?”

“No…I…no” you’re not sure if you want to admit what the problem is.

“Y/N! Tell me!” The sympathy has gone.

“It’s nothing, I just don’t want to bump into him again” you try to shrug it off.

“I doubt you’ll bump into him on Saturday” she takes a sip of her drink.

“Saturday?” You scrunch your nose up in confusion.

“Luke’s birthday”

“Fuck, it’s Luke’s birthday” you had tried to avoid thinking too much about the too tall boy.

“Yep, same date every year”

“I might not go” you try to keep your voice casual.

“You have to go! He’s an arse, but it’ll be fun” Ruby needs you there to help her with her Michael plan.

“You think he’s an arse?” You question.

“A hot arse, but yeah, definitely an arse” Ruby’s eyes narrow in suspicion at your question, “why?”

“He’s good in bed” you blurt out,
making Ruby start to choke on her drink.

“You…I…what the fuck?!” She splutters.

“Yeah, I did something stupid” you grip onto the cup in front of you, mainly for something to do with your hands.

“You mean, you did someone stupid!” She corrects you, unnecessarily “How the hell did that happen?! It’s Luke! How did you two stop arguing for long enough to have sex?! Did he come onto you? Of course it was him, you wouldn’t be stupid enough…oh my god, it was you.”

“It may have been me, but he didn’t help! He was all half naked and stood too close to me” you defend yourself.

“Why was he half naked?”

“It was the middle of the night, it’s a long story. It happened and it won’t happen again.” You don’t know if you’re trying to convince Ruby or yourself.

“You don’t sound overly confident about that” she raises an eyebrow.

“No, no, it cannot happen again. You can’t let it” you look at her.

“Me?!”

“Yes, you. You need to keep me away from him.” You’re fairly certain this is a part of the best friend handbook.

“Because of your lack of self control?” She scoffs.

“Yes”

“Was he really that good?” She has to ask.

“Fucking hell, yes” you breathe out, “but it’s Luke!”

“You don’t like him, do you?” Ruby asks cautiously.

“No! He was just very, very good in bed.” You insist.

“Two ‘verys’, he must be good” she smirks.

“I just need to stay away from him for
the rest of my life, it’s fine”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be too difficult. It’s not like you’re in the same friendship group or anything, or he’s always at your house, or it’s his birthday on Saturday and you’re going to be there.” For a best friend, Ruby isn’t being so helpful.

“I could move?” You whisper.

-

“He looks extra hot tonight” Ruby muses, “do you think that’s because he knew you’d be here?”

“Please, shut up” you’d been trying to avoid him. Which was difficult seeing as he was the reason you were here.

“Thank you for coming with me”
Ruby nudges her shoulder against yours.

“You owe me” you frown at her, “now, can we focus on you and Mike?”

“Does he even like me? Or am I just reading too much into things?” She chews on her lip.

“He likes you” you reassure her for the hundredth time.

“Ok, so what should I do?” She turns to you.

“I thought you had a plan?”

“No, I just lied to get you here” she waves her hand.

“Oh for…Ruby!”

“What are you two doing lurking in a corner?” Michael’s voice makes the two of you jump.

“What? We’re not lurking, we’re just…we…Mike, Ruby’s glass is empty! Why don’t you both go to the bar?” Your voice is higher pitched than it should be.

“Smooth, thanks” Ruby mutters at you, elbowing you in the side.

“You’re acting weirder than normal, Y/L/N” Michael laughs, “drink, Rubes?”

“Um…yeah!” She grins as Michael laces his fingers through hers and pulls her in the direction of the bar.

“Look at you playing matchmaker” an amused sounding voice makes you look up from your drink.

“Well, they’re both useless.” You wish you hadn’t looked in his direction. Ruby was right, he did look good.

“Why are you hiding in a corner?” He glances round at the darkened part of the bar you’d found.

“I am not hiding!” You wish you were a better liar than you were. Or at least that Luke couldn’t see right through you.

“Are you avoiding me?”

“No!” You scoff. His smug grin shows that he doesn’t believe you.

“Baby, I told you you’d want me again” he murmurs.

“I don’t want you”

“You’re a bad liar, but if you’re sticking to that then, okay,
I’ll leave you alone”

“Good” you nod, knowing you don’t actually want him to leave, but you’re not sure what exactly it is you want either. He drops you a wink before walking away.

“Come and dance, loser girl” Calum spots you from across the room, deciding to take it upon himself to put a smile on your face. Your gaze had been falling on Luke far too often throughout the night. Something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Luke or Ruby.

“I don’t think I’m drunk en…”
You’re cut off by Cal handing you a shot of tequila.

“Now, come on!” He laughs, dragging you into the dance floor. You laugh as Michael makes his way over to you and him and Cal dance around you like idiots.

“Oh my god, you’re such losers!” You laugh loudly as Michael lifts you up and spins you around, “put me down, Clifford!”

“I told you he thought you were lovely” Calum leans close to your ear, once Michael has dumped you unceremoniously on the floor.

“What are you..” You begin, before your eyes follow his gaze and land on Luke, “shut up, Hood.” Your eyes meeting Luke’s.

“I think it makes sense” he shrugs, laughing.

“Never going to happen” you dismiss him, “I’m going to get a drink.” You walk away before he can say anything else, you don’t want to hear about you and Luke as anything more than you are. You’ve barely reached the queue to the bar before a hand pulls you backwards into a broad chest.

“Hemmings” you turn round to face him.

“Y/L/N” there’s a smile tugging at his mouth, “you looked very, very hot out there, and you kept looking at me” His fingers trail down your arm.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Luke, someone will see us” you know you should stop him and move away, but that’s the last thing you want.

“Do you want to leave then?” Luke murmurs in your ear, his fingers tracing patterns along your hip.

“You want to leave your own party?”

“I really don’t care if it means I’m with you” he kisses the corner of your mouth, “so, should we go?”

“Y-yeah” you manage to stammer, the scent of his aftershave and the warmth from his body already clouding your mind.

“I knew I was irresistible” he chuckles.

“And then you go and ruin it” you press a soft kiss under his ear.

“You still wanna leave though, right?” He pauses, worried you’re going to change your mind.

“God, yes” you grip onto his shirt.

“What happened to never mentioning that night again?” His face looks smug as he realises how badly you want him.

“This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t have happened at all.” You frown, already having decided that you weren’t going to say no to him.

“But it was so fucking good” he practically growls in your ear.

“No one needs to know” you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, “we both want the same thing, right?”

“Y-yeah” Luke’s eyes meet yours, but the expression in them surprises you. You knew that neither you or him wanted a relationship, just sex worked out well for both of you.

“Can we, please, leave?” You swallow.

“Let’s go” Luke leaves his fingers through yours and pulls you towards to exit.

“Oh, and Hemmings?” You tug at his chin until he faces you so you can press your lips to his, “Happy Birthday.”

——-

Let me know what you think and if you’d like another part! Thank you for reading!