there is something in this little moment that just hits me

Steve/Bucky whoops drunk texted the BFF you’re into him trope

Bucky: Sometimes I look at you and want you so badly I forget

Bucky: I forget that we’ve been friends for over a decade

Bucky: I forget why it’s a bad idea

Bucky: All I think about is touching you and how you’d taste and that we’re probably perfect for each other

Bucky: I forget to forget

x.x.x.

Bucky woke up to the sun shining in through a crack in his closed curtains and hitting his eyes dead on.  He groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, and rolled over so his face was smooshed into his pillow.  His mouth was dry and tasted like fermented things, and his head hurt from drinking too much the night before.

He tried to focus on when he’d finally left the bar and wandered home, but all he could remember was the string of texts he’d sent Steve and he ended up pushing himself up into a sitting position so fast he experienced a dizzy moment of vertigo.

He might puke and not from the hangover.

His phone was plugged into the charger right where he always left it, looking innocuous and not like it had betrayed the secret he’d managed to keep for the last five years.  Tentatively he reached out and picked it up, pressing the button to turn on the lockscreen.

Steve: WHAT

Well, Bucky thought, maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.  Maybe he hadn’t sent everything he thought he sent.  Steve was likely to all-caps WHAT to Bucky for half of his drunk texts, mostly because Bucky got philosophical and started quoting obscure Aristotelian theories to him.  Bucky liked to joke he was smarter while drunk while Steve rolled his eyes and told him that maybe if he stopped underrepresenting his own intelligence all the time it wouldn’t seem that way.

Well, Bucky thought a little hysterically as he stared at the chain of texts he’d sent Steve the night before, where was all that intelligence now?

Fuck.  He was so stupid.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to think about his whole world caving in.  Yeah.

It was somehow worse that Steve had sent WHAT more than half an hour before and then hadn’t followed it up with anything.  Somehow, Bucky had almost expected to wake up to a confession in return, or at least something more definitive.  

Fuck. He scrubbed his hand over his face. This was the worst.  Now he had to decide whether to make the brave move again and he wasn’t drunk this time to make it seem like a good idea.

He was just considering the merits of haha yeah you’re hot :p but idk what I drank last night to encourage this VS. I meant every word when someone unlocked the door to his apartment.

Bucky was holding his phone and staring at his bedroom door with a wide-eyed sort of panic when Steve burst into it.

“WHAT?” he said in person, staring at Bucky and sweating a little like he’d run up all four flights of stairs to Bucky’s apartment after speed-walking over.

Bucky stared at him and then wordlessly held up his phone.

Steve stared back.

“Did you drunk confess to me?” Steve asked, sounding a bit strangled.

“I’m not going to sober confess it to you,” Bucky pointed out, wry and vaguely annoyed that Steve came over for this conversation so he had to actually look at him.  Steve was way too polite and gentlemanly and well raised. He needed to get with the generation who texted this type of shit like Bucky had, apparently.  

“Why not?”

“Why?  That’s not the type of thing you tell your best friend.  Oh hey Steve so sometimes I don’t think of you platonically, so now you’re going to feel weird around me when we cuddle on the couch during movies and shift away from potential boners.”

“Try this: Oh hey Bucky, maybe I wouldn’t shift away from them if I knew they existed!”

“WHAT?”

“EXACTLY,” Steve yelled back, looking way too smug and vindicated for this moment. What an asshole.

“I… what?” Bucky repeated.  He stared at Steve silently for a few moments. The moment was ladened.  “Are we going to make out now?”

“It smells like beer sweats and regret in here,” Steve pointed out, wrinkling his nose.  “I’m going to go home and get ready for work and you’re going back to sleep.  Then you’re going to shower and come over for a movie tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Bring your potential boners,” Steve said as a parting shot as he walked out of the bedroom.

Yeah, like Bucky was going to sleep after that.

“Buried” (Chapter Six)

The guys find out who is behind this whole mess, and get ahold of Bucky. They spend an entire day together hiking through the jungle and it’s just as snarky as you think it will be. Little bit longer chapter this time, pushing 3300 words.  Let me know if you figure out what is the significance of Bucky/Steves code names/ numbers! Excited to hear what you guys think!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, drop a note in my ask box!

MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy :)
************************

Tony popped awake just as Steve was reaching out to shake him and there was an entirely too awkward moment where they just looked at each other with wide eyes.

Steve’s were just as blue as they had ever been, striking against his darker hair, and Tony thought for a moment that maybe he preferred it to the golden blonde of before. And the beard was a winner. He had always loved Steve’s smile and that clear skin but he wasn’t complaining about the beard. Not at all.

Plus the beard sort of went with how big Steve had gotten, all broad shoulders and ridiculous pecs, and thighs that made Tony want to–

Oh shit I’m staring.

Steve’s lips had curled in an amused smile as Tony was fairly obviously checking him out, and Tony finally broke the stare, looking down at Steve’s out reached hand and then standing by himself, brushing the dirt as best as he could off his pants. “You let me sleep longer than ten minutes.” He said dryly, happy to pretend that he had not been ready to start drooling over the soldier.

Steve rolled his eyes before he could help himself. “Brilliant, Tony. Very observant.”

Tony bristled a little but tried to swallow down his annoyance “Why, though? We needed to get to the river.”

“Because you needed it.” Steve said honestly. “You look tired. More tired than you should for being on vacation. I just wanted to make sure you were as rested as you could be before… before we attempt whatever it is we are attempting.”

“Yes will, I did run for my life from a helicopter yesterday. I think I’m allowed to look tired, thank you.”

“More tired than that.” Steve lifted his pack. “I mean you look like you’ve been tired for months. When was the last time you slept? I could pack things in the bags under your eyes.”

“There’s that Rogers charm.” Tony snorted. “Thanks for the compliments. Let’s just go.”

“Not gonna tell me why you’re tired?”

“I feel like it’s not your business.”

“That’s fair.” Steve took a deep breath and pointed south. “River should be no more than a few clicks that way. I ended up leaving my GPS when I grabbed my pack so I’m not entirely sure about an exact distance. Good thing is, it’s a giant river so we will definitely run right into it at some point, and can follow the current until we hit a village.”

“Lean on, fearless Captain.” Tony re-tied his boot and nodded. “Let’s find some water.”

Keep reading

pretty boys, pretty flowers - ed

a/n: i don’t think i need to tell u that this is inspired by this picture. super cheesy (but would it be true hannah writing if it wasn’t?)

word count: 2,660

Silence is a matter of perspective. For example, some might accompany negatively connotative terms with the presence of such; awkward, tense, maybe uncomfortable. For others, silence is an evolved condition by the means of time, comfort, familiarity.

The latter was definitely what you clung to, silence becoming a welcome attribute in the cab of the car as the scenery passed by out the windows. Ethan’s chatter had easily died down from when you’d left the house early that morning, the anecdotes of his adventure with Grayson now replaced with periodic I hope I remember where this is and I don’t remember that sage bush from last time…

None the less, you didn’t feel awkward in the lapse of conversation. It was comforting simply just being, your elbow propped against the door with your cheek pressed against your curled fist. You could feel Ethan’s gaze as he turned to watch you in these moments, yet you were too engrossed with the outside world.

Keep reading

Obsessed - Tom Holland Imagine

Summary: The reader asks Tom to do her a huge favor, but it back fires on her when Tom becomes obsessed with skintight corsets and body rolls.

Warnings: none 

Word Count:  1,164

Pairing: Tom Holland x Showgirl!Reader

A/N: Tell me what you think. Feedback is always more than welcomed : ) Also shout out to @mieczysmut for helping me start it out. 

~Masterlist~


Late. Late was the only thing you could think of as you sprinted towards the club. Your stupid alarm didn’t go off to its set time. You were out of breath when you reached the back entrance. Your breathing was uneven and your hair was an absolute disaster. You bent over placing your hands on your knees to catch your breath. You could hear music playing and glasses clinking.

“Y/N where have you been, we need you dressed for the opening number?” Jamie complained. “Your the only one who knows the counts. The show would be a disaster if I went up there in your spot!”

Jamie grabbed your wrist and hurried you to the rack of costumes behind the stage. All of your friends bombarded you at once as you started to grab your costume off the rack.

“Y/N you know we can’t go on without you; hurry up and get ready!” Cheryl huffed. She started to push you to the dressing area and stuffed you into the little dimly lit room.

”Be ready in five!” Cheryl gave you a smile. The door to the dressing room slammed shut. You still couldn’t catch your breath, but you clumsily shoved your arms down the sleeves of the tight-fitting outfit. A few swears left your mouth as you bumped into the walls of the room.

There was almost little to no room to move around. They need to provide bigger dressing rooms, you thought. Once you were situated and dressed in the corset and fish-netted tights you hurriedly swung the door open sprinting off as everyone was getting in their places, while miserably trying to put on your heels.

The lights were dimmed because the show was about to start. Cheryl pushed you to the front of the stage. The curtain was faced in front of you waiting for its cue to be pulled upwards. You took your pose as everyone else did and watched as the curtain rose. The crowd sat their quietly until the lights were directed on you and your girls as the music had begun. They erupted in hoots and howlers. Half of the audience tonight was all men, they whistled as they watched every single one of you swing your hips to the beat.

It gave you exhilaration to be dancing along to the music. You scanned your eyes over the crowd as they looked enticed by the sensual movements of your hips. It actually made you able to catch your breath. It felt like you were on the stage for hours, yet it was only a short moment. You kept weaving around the stage past your friends as the choreography of the dance came naturally to you.

The song came to a slow stop as everyone on stage gave their ending poses; it was finally over. You actually smiled brightly to the crowd and looked to your friends. They were all heaving due to the dancing. We were a hit, you squealed quietly in your mind. The lights turned off and the stage curtain closed.

Your friends all start to walk down. Jamie was waiting at the end of the staircase back stage.

“Y/N! That was amazing; I told you we needed you!” Jamie yells excitedly.

“Did you see the way the crowd was so hyped!” Cheryl exclaimed.

“It honestly feels like a rush every time.” You chuckled shaking your head.

“More like a rushing adrenaline through my body. Did you see some of the guys tonight.” Jamie ran a hand through her curls.

“Easy there tiger, we come here to dance, not to lure in prey.” Cheryl nudge her.

“Way to be a buzz kill.” Jamie rolled her eyes.

“Sorry sweetheart I’m just simply following the rules.” Cheryl put her hands in surrender.

“What’s the crime in breaking a few rules.” Jamie smirked. 

“Getting fired!” Cheryl reminded her.

“Ugh will you two stop it already. You do this every show!” You groaned.

“No we don’t!” They both said.

“Look girls I’d love to stay and chat, but there is a warm bubble bath waiting for me at home, so well you excuse me.” You separated them and walked to get your stuff.

“Hey Y/N great performance out there tonight!” Harrison the bartender complemented you. 

You smiled brightly up at him. “Thanks Haz, but come on it wasn’t just me.” You shrugged. 

“Well the girls and I are going clubbing tonight, you should come, I’ll even buy you a drink.” He gazed down on you leaning an arm against the wall.

“Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.” You patted his chest slightly. “Have a drink for, okay?” You opened the door and turned to look at him.

“Will do.” He saluted you goodbye.

You waved and walked out the building.


Once you were home you engulfed yourself in a  warm tub filled with bubbles. It really did the trick on your aching muscles. You closed your eyes in relaxation. The warm water and rose pedal smell was really soothing. Everything was just how you wanted it to be. 

You were about to fall into a relaxation when you heard the bell of your apartment go off. You opened your eyes in annoyance wondering who you were going to kill for ruining your night. You slipped out wrapping your robe around your body before heading to the front door.

Just as you swung the door open you were faced with a familiar pair of beautiful brown eyes. 

“Tom, what’re you doing here?” You crossed your arms as you felt the breeze of the night enter your house.

Tom took in your appearance. There was small trickles of water running down your legs and neck. He not so subtly checked you out.

“Did I interrupt something?” He asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, I was mid deep in a soothing bubble bath,” You rolled your eyes opening the door wider for him to come in.

“Sorry about that love,” He smiled softly.

“No worries. So what do you need?” You said getting to the point.

“Oh right, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out since you didn’t go clubbing with everyone else. Thought I could give you some company” He gave you what you thought was the most unrealistic smile he’s ever shown.

“You didn’t wanna go, did you?” You caught his lie.

“Not one bit.” He shook his head.

“I guess, just let me finish showering,” You lazily got off the couch and dragged your feet back to the bathroom.

“Great I’ll get the stuff ready,” And by stuff he was referring to the junk food stored at the back of one of your cabinets.

Let’s just stay you two were in for a long night of chick flicks, comedies, and judging characters acting.


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“Later” - Jughead Jones (PART ONE)

Originally posted by bugheader

A/N: It’s late and I’m tired as fuck. fell asleep writing this shit but this was requested long ass time ago. So here we go do enjoy some Jughead appreciation day.

WARNINGS: not edited, kinda sucks af 

TagList:  @katshrev   @cinnamonandpapercuts  @sunshine51879   @isntskatesatan@dempsey-mantle    @jellybeanjoncs   @sweetvengeancee   @soninetynine @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1   @little-weirdo-13   @lustfulskam   @amyyleblanc1999    @killjoyloki   @annoyingsibling   @voidobsession  @archie-puppydogeyes-andrews
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As soon as my eyes guide me towards the door, a hand grabs my wrists and swiftly spins me around. Jughead’s lips were sealed against mine so quickly that I barely had time to process what was happening. My eyes closed though, thinking over the night he first kissed me as his lips are against mine for the second time, in a hurry almost. One of his hands glided towards the back of my neck while he placed the other at the very bottom of my back, pressing me impossibly close against him. 

A fire raged between us, it’s what it seemed like. His chest was against mine so closely, I could feel his heart beating rapidly. His tongue was dominating mine in a furry. I still had yet to figure out what I was doing, why I was letting him kiss me for the second time, but I didn’t want him to stop. The same floating and light feeling I had the first time returned making me even more addicted to him. His breath tasted like alcohol in contrast to the cinnamon and cigarettes flavor I once tasted. I couldn’t tell which one was better I didn’t care. 

Jughead begins slowly pushing me backwards until my calves hit the side of his bed and we both fall on top of it at the same time. His hand that was once on my back was now sliding down my hip and thigh. He pushes my leg over him, settling himself between my legs. My aching body and pounding head wasn't an issue anymore. All I was thinking about was him, the way his lips move against my own, the way his tongue glides too quickly against mine. 

My hands find their way to his hair as I slip of his beanie and curl my fingers in them. Jughead’s hand roams up and down my clothed thigh, while the other is above my head, keeping himself hovered over me. His long hair tickles my forehead. 

He slowly pulls away, “Fuck Y/N,” he says before he reattached his lips against my neck. The feeling was too foreign. I never had anyone kiss my neck before or anywhere actually. His hips press into mine making me gasp and tug on his hair which caused him to groan against my skin. That’s never happened to me before. My lower stomach clinches as he does it again. Jughead’s hand find his way up to my shirt and I suddenly become altered. 

“Jughead stop,” I mutter lowly. My own voice was betraying me. I didn’t want him to stop, but I need him to. “Jughead stop!” I yell and push him off of me. He eyes me with brow knitted and his pink lips parted, out of breath. 

“What?” 

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I tell him and he rolls his eyes. 

“Christ, that’s not what I’m trying to do,” he sighs and rolls onto the bed beside me. I adjust my shirt and just lay there awkwardly. 

“Then what were you trying to do? Your hand was going up my shirt.” 

He turns his head to look at me, a grin spreading across his face. “You never been touched like that, have you?” 

“I- well… no,” I stare at the ceiling, playing with my hands. This was an uncomfortable topic. Jughead’s finger hooks my cheek and pulls my face towards him. I stare at him before his finger slides down my neck and arm. 

“Come here,” he says as he holds my hand and pulls me towards him. I hesitate. He was calm, a little too calm. It was strange. He then grabs my hips and pulls me on top of him. 

“Jughead,” I mumbled trying to get off of him, but he restrains me. 

“No no,” he says. “I want to show you something,” his voice was low and raw, sending chills up my spine. “Give me your hand,” he holds his hand out and I lay mine in his. As much as I was afraid of what he was about to show me, I was anxious. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. He lets go of my hand for a moment and abruptly sits up. His face inches from mine. He grins at me before pulling off his shirt and then laying down again. 

“Jughead, I don’t know about this.” 

“Shh, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to feel.” 

He takes my hand again and lays it on his chest. His other hand gripping my hip. He then slowly guides my hand down his chest, his lips parting while doing so. 
I watch carefully as his eyes closed and his breathing becomes heavy. My hand goes down his stomach, each finger slowly dipping in the crease of his abs. My heart was quickening as Jughead moved my hand lower. My palm touched the waistline of his pants and that’s when he stopped. 

He opened his eyes, “Go on.” 

I hesitate for a moment before my fingers glide across the waistband and then up his abs again. Jughead reclosed his eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. His hip involuntarily presses into mine and his lips part as I slide my hand back down his chest. My fingers trace over his V-line, starting from the side of his hip and going down. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, but I like it. I like the way Jughead responds to it even though I’m only touching his chest. This is a new step for me and so far I’m liking it. I let the tip of my finger dip inside his pants and I hear a sharp intake of breath. I look at Jughead who licks the bottom of his lips. I dip my another finger inside and a hand grabs my wrists. 

Jughead stared at me, “No, not yet,” I blush at him and he smirks at me. Suddenly he grabs my hips and rolls me over. He hovers over me again, grabbing my legs and wrapping them around him. 

“Christ, what the fuck am I doing?” he says again before his lips pressed against mine for the second time tonight. I let my fingers run down his bare back, exploring every muscle. I gasp when his teeth bite my bottom lip and tugs as he pulls away. “And that’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” 

What? 

“You avoided me because you wanted to kiss me?” I question. He sighs and climbs off of me. I sit up as he sits down beside me. 

“Kiss you, caress you, fuck you,” he says and I gasp. I didn’t expect him to say that last part. He chuckles at me. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything to you.” 

“I still don’t understand why you need to avoid me because of that?” 

“Because if I was alone with you any longer than I have been. I was going to fuck you and I can’t let myself do that.” 

“Why?” I let my conscious takeover. He told me that he only has sex and I knew that. No, I don’t want to have sex with him just yet so It makes me happy that he’s actually thinking about me rather than himself for a change. 

“Because you’re a virgin, Y/N. I don’t fuck virgins,” he chuckles. For some reason, my stomach dropped in disappointment and I frowned. He notices, “What?” 

“Nothing,” I mumble. 

“No seriously, what’s the matter?” 

“I can’t help it okay?” I say and he raised a brow at me. 

“Help what, that you’re a virgin?” I nod and he rolls his eyes. “Everyone is born a virgin Y/N.” 

“Yeah, but I’m the only one that still is and you like to pick on me about it,” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. He’s more than likely going to forget about it like it was nothing or insult me about it. 

“I wasn’t picking on you, Y/N” 

“It seemed like you were,” I mumble. He sighs loudly. 

“Why are you a virgin?” he questions and I raise a brow at him. 

“I don’t know. No guy really had an interest in me,” I mumble. It was true. I was real. I never had a guy try to take me out on a date or even talk with me. So I guess they never tried. 

“This has to be a major bullshit,” Jughead scoffs and I roll my eyes. “Y/N, you’re fucking hot. At least one guy had to have his eyes on you.” 

“Do you have to say it like that?” I groan

“Say what?” 

“Hot. It sounds over-sexualized,” and because I personally hate that word unless it was used in I only hear guys say that in terms of trying to be sexual and I hate it. 

“I’m not the one to be sappy as fuck so take what you get,” he replies. 

“Pretty is a nice word,” I mutter and he rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah for a gay dude.” 

I groan, “God, why do I bother with you? All you do is fake every conversation we have and do a complete three-sixty. Can you be serious for once?” 

“You want me to be serious?” he questions and I nod. 

“That would be nice, yes.” 

“Okay, Y/N. I’ll be serious. Your lips are wet and I like to kiss the shit out of them again. Those jeans make your ass look great. Whatever fucking bra you were wearing, I want to take it off. I want to have my way with you, but I’m not going to,” my eyes widen at his words. My lower stomach clenches and I let out a small gasp. 

“You liked that didn’t you?” he grins at me, but I stay quiet. I don’t exactly trust my voice. “You liked it when I touched you here,” his fingers run over my thighs. 

“This isn’t serious,” I managed to mutter which only makes him grin more. He moves towards me, pushing me down on the bed. He settles between my legs again and I don’t make any effort to move. I’m paralyzed. 

“Oh no, you’re right, but you didn’t say anything about sex,” he grins, “You liked it when I did this,” he pressed his hips into mine, making me gasp. He smirks at my reaction and does it again, bitting down his bottom lip. “Fuck what are you doing to me,” he mutters. 

“I thought you hated me,” my voice was low, barely even a voice actually. My mind was cloudy and only filled with him. 

“Oh baby,” he laughs, “I can’t hate someone who makes my dick hard,” he dips his head into my neck and presses into me, his hands running down my legs and making me wrap them around him again. “Fuck, can’t you tell by the way you make me feel Y/N?” his hips pressing against me turned rhythmic, going over and over again. I didn’t know what the fuck he was doing but my lower stomach was clenching in such a way I didn’t want him to stop/ 

“Shit,” he mutters and abruptly stands to his feet, unbuttoning his pants. He pulls on my arm and makes me sit up. 

“Um- Jughead, I don’t think—” 

“Relax, I’m not going to go too far. I just need you to do this for me,” his voice almost sounded like a plead for help. His hand slides into his briefs and he groans. I widen my eyes at what he’s doing in front of me. He takes his hand out and sits down, pulling me on top of him again. “Fuck, I can’t fix this myself, Y/N. I need you,” my heart quickens at his words. 

“I don’t know how.” 

“I’ll show you, please. I need you to do this. I can’t go back down there like this,” he pleads I completely forgot that there was a party down there and that someone could walk in at any moment, but at this very moment, I didn’t care. My mind was fully aware and I was enjoying every bit of Jughead’s begging only me because I never have seen this side of him before. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“I only had three cups. Christ, please.” 

“I don’t know, Jughead.” I was a bit nervous to do whatever he wanted me to do. 

He groans in frustration. “Fuck, fine. I’ll just call Betty.” That name makes my blood boil in the way he uses it. 

“No,” I tell him and he grins at me. He knew exactly how I would react. “I’ll do it,” I mutter. He pecks my lips, suddenly, which surprised me. 

“Good,” he whispers. His stares at me as his hand take a hold of mine. He places my hand on his chest again and slowly guides it down. His breathing quickens and his lips part for what seems like the thousandth time tonight. I can’t believe I’m actually about to do this. My palms are getting sweaty, I’m so nervous. “Relax, Y/N,” Jughead’s voice was low and I try to focus which was hard because I really enjoy watching Jughead’s face. 

His breath hitches as he guides my hand down towards his briefs. He gives me a reassuring look before pushing my hand further down and he groans. I gasp as I feel him, hard against my palm. God, I never done this before. I don’t even know what to do. Jughead squeezes my hand which makes me squeeze him and he curses. “Fuck,” he then moves my hand up and down over him. “Keep doing that,, shit.” 

He removes his hand from mine and I move my hand up and down at a steady pace, trying my hardest to focus and watch him at the same time. Jughead’s heads roll back he leans back on his hands. He licks his lips before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth His hips push back up into my palm. “Fuck. Squeeze, baby.” 

I do as I’m told and he moans. His hips begin to roll my hand in a steady rhythm. I squeeze him again and he groans. “Right there,” His chips roll faster and his breathing becomes irregular before a wet spot spreads in the fabric of his briefs. 

“God, he says out of breath before he squeezes his eyes shut and collapses onto the bed. My hand was wet and clammy as I pulled away. I redundantly climb off of him to go wash my hands. My mind was replaying the entire thing in my head. I got to watch Jughead in his most vulnerable state and the best part was the fact that I was causing it. It makes me feel powerful, well only a little bit. 

Jughead walks into the bathroom moments later pantsless but with a new pair of boxers on. He leans against the counter beside me and crosses his arms. “Are you done washing your hands?” Oh, I didn’t realize I still was. My mind was still all fuzzy. How was he so calm? 

I run off the water and wipe my hands on the towel hanging beside me. “Thank you,” I hear him say and I freeze. 

“What?” I couldn’t tell if I was hearing things or not. 

“I said, thank you Y/N. Please don’t make me say it again. “ he chuckles. 

“Oh um- you’re welcome,” that comes out more of a question rather than a normal reply. Jughead suddenly gets really close to me and leans down. 

“Next time, It’ll be you,,” he whispers in my ear. His breath fanning my neck sends chills down my spine. He pulls away and winks before entering his room and grabbing his pants, sliding them on again. 

“Later, love.” was the last thing he said before he walked out of his room, leaving me alone. 



Tell me if you want part two loves. ♥ 


 

Osomatsu-san PS Vita game translation - Karamatsu 11 - Rock Detective Karamatsu

Karamatsu: Detectives, huh… Heh, that’s so rocking! 

Osomatsu: Oi, stop hogging the TV, Karamatsu. 

Karamatsu: P, please wait. It’s about to get to the good part. 

Todomatsu: Ah, that drama is Rock Detective Takatake Hayato, it’s popular right now. 

Ichimatsu: What kind of a middle schooler name is that.

Choromatsu: Don’t you know it? It’s a big hit drama, with ratings of over 30%. 

Osomatsu: No way, is it seriously 30%? They’re raking it in. 

Ichimatsu: They should make it clearer whether he’s a rockstar or a detective. 

Karamatsu: He’s a detective! 

Jyushimatsu:  Hustle detective! 

Karamatsu: A rock detective! 

Ichimatsu: It doesn’t matter anyway…

Osomatsu: You know, in stuff like this, don’t crimes always conveniently seem to happen in places where the detective is? 

Todomatsu: That’s right, you don’t just come across murders normally.

Choromatsu: But you see, this is fiction. If it didn’t do what it promised in its premise, it would be boring. 

Jyushimatsu: The promised twist! The steamy hot springs murder! 

Osomatsu: Ha, that’s a good one. Convenience is king. 

Karamatsu: Can’t you be quieter, brothers. This is a good bit. 

Osomatsu: …Fine. But in return, I’m changing the channel when it’s over. 

Karamatsu: Yeah, you can do whatever you want afterwards. 

Todomatsu: Hmm, Karamatsu-niisan as a detective… 

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anonymous asked:

Can you write a pregnancy scare one shot in the epic detour universe?

hi!! I had a couple other anons wanting this exact same prompt, so here it is!!!




“Ames, are you okay in there? Charles wants to shave his legs. He’s going cycling later, saying something about aerodynamics.”

Amy jumps at the sound of Jake’s voice, her eyes shooting to the inside of his bathroom door, opposite which she sits, her bare legs chilly against the cool tile of the floor. A soft breeze filters into the room from the tiny window in the corner of the room- she takes this air into her lungs slowly, largely in hopes that it’ll make her voice sound more stable when she replies.

“Sorry. It’s. Uh… girl stuff,” she says eventually, her voice cracking a little, and actually finds herself cringing at the uncertainty in her voice. She’s such a bad liar.

“Oh, okay. Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

She smiles inwardly at her boyfriend’s immediate sweetness, but no part of her relaxes; her hands are clammy, almost dampening the huge shirt of his she’s wearing where she holds it.

In front of her, on the bathroom floor, sits a pregnancy test. Next to it, her phone timer, currently counting down from two minutes and thirty seconds. She wasn’t exactly fazed by the extra thirty seconds when she bought the stupid thing, but right now it’s the most irritatingly long space of time she’s ever experienced in her life.

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ur-mum-is-a-bitch  asked:

oh my fuck please write something for that rylex meets game grumps thing it'd make my entire life complete

This was fun to play around with. i’d love to get into their characters interacting with themselves more, and the idea that they all exist (just in different dimensions) is one i’ve been thinking about for awhile

hope you enjoy!! i might continue this later

~~~

The funny thing was, even though Ryland and Alex were just characters, they often felt so real Danny wondered if they were real people.

Of course, they weren’t. They were fictional characters for a TV show. But sometimes Danny caught himself wondering if Alex would like something or what Alex would do in a situation. He’d become rather fond of Alex, in a strange way. Sometimes, it didn’t even feel like he was portraying Alex. Sometimes it felt like Alex was a whole separate person, and Danny had just been tasked with playing him onscreen.

Danny mused about this as he and Arin walked onto set for the day. Arin was on the phone with Suzy, and Danny glanced up as the costume department trailer came into view.

“Alright, babe, see you later,” Arin finished, ending the call and shoving his phone into his back pocket. He glanced at Danny. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, shrugging. “Do you ever feel like you know Ryland personally? Like we’re friends with them?”

Arin bit his lip, thinking. “Yeah. Sometimes I find myself thinking about Ryland as though he’s real and not just a character I play.”

Danny nodded frantically. “It’s the same with me and Alex.”

“That’d be weird if they were real, huh?”

“Yep.”

They went into the costume trailer, but no one was around. Arin frowned. “That’s weird. We’re supposed to get ready for our scene here.”

“Maybe they’re late,” Danny suggested.

So they waited a few minutes, but not seeing anyone, Arin made a decision.

“Let’s go to set. Maybe they’re waiting there for some reason.”

Following Arin’s lead, the two friends walked to the most familiar set–Ryland and Alex’s apartment. As Arin twisted the doorknob leading to set, Danny suddenly felt a strange twist in his gut. He reached forward to grab Arin’s sleeve, but the room spun around him and everything went black.

~~~

When Danny woke up, he found himself sprawled in front of the door leading to the apartment set. It took him a moment to remember why he was there. Then he wondered, How long have I been out? Where’d Arin go?

He got to his feet, wobbling only slightly as he twisted the knob and entered the set. He frowned.

It looked different.

It–it looked like an actual apartment, not just a filming set.

“Maybe I’m dizzier than I thought,” Danny murmured, but just then Arin walked out of the door that would’ve been Ryland’s room.

“Oh, you’re back,” Arin muttered, rummaging around in the fridge before sitting on the couch. “That didn’t take long.”

Danny blinked at him slowly. There was something different about Arin, too. Something…not right.

“What do you mean? Why’d you leave me passed out in the hall? Where is everyone?”

Arin turned to look at him, unamused. “Are you drunk? How’d you get drunk so goddamn quickly, Alex?”

Danny froze.

“What…what did you just call me?”

“By your name?” Now Arin looked concerned, getting off the couch and walking over. “Alex, you’re really pale. Did something happen?”

Danny grabbed the wall for support, then let out a weak laugh. “Stop it, Arin. Is this some kind of improv session? Seriously, what’s going on?”

Arin looked alarmed. “Alex?”

Danny shook his head, trying to clear his brain. “I’m not Alex. I’m Dan. Dan Avidan.”

Arin began to look frustrated. “Alex, you’re not making any sense. Did you just call yourself Dan Avidan? Is this some kinda joke? Did you call me Arin?”

“Arin’s your name,” Danny said weakly.

“My name is Ryland,” Arin said, a bit of impatience edging into his tone. “You don’t sound drunk, but you’re not making any sense. Did you hit your head?”

“No,” Danny squeaked. “You’re…not Arin.”

Just then, they both heard voices in the hall and the door suddenly burst open, revealing a matching set of faces. Danny stared in disbelief at the man standing opposite him, that looked just like him and somehow…not.

Then the man behind his doppelgänger rushed forward. “Dan? Is that you?”

“Arin!” Relief washed over Danny as he hugged Arin. “Where’d you go?”

“I don’t know! Everything kinda went dark and I woke up in front of an apartment building! Then you walked out of the building and I asked what the hell was going on, but the guy said he wasn’t you!”

Slowly, Danny and Arin turned to look at the couple gawking at them.

They were identical to them in every way.

Danny’s grip tightened on Arin’s arm. “Are…are you guys…”

“Ryland?” Arin cried, disbelieving. “Is that you?”

Ryland blinked, passing a hand over his face. “What the fuck…?”

Alex glanced at Ryland, concerned, and then back at Danny and Arin. “Okay.” He pointed at Arin. “You’re not Ry.” He pointed at Danny. “And you’re not me. So why do you look like us?”

“Oh my God.” Arin covered hs face with his hands. “You’re Ryland and Alex. Is this some kind of dream?”

“I don’t think so, buddy,” Danny whispered.

“Who the hell are you people?” Ryland demanded.

“I’m Arin Hanson,” Arin replied, glancing at Danny. “And this is Dan Avidan.”

“Dan?” Alex said softly, staring at him, but Ryland interjected.

“You can’t be Arin Hanson,” he deadpanned. “Arin isn’t real.”

Confused, Arin and Danny glanced at each other. “What?”

“Arin and Dan,” Alex said quietly, “are characters for a comic Ryland made. A comic about two friends that play video games together.”

Danny felt all the blood drain from his face. He gripped Arin a little more tightly. “We’re–we’re real people. And we do more than play video games.”

Ryland crossed his arms. “Like what?”

“I have a wife named Suzy and I do voice acting and write for our band Star/bomb,” Arin said, almost robotically. “I also do animations.”

Danny watched Alex gulp.

“I’m in a band called Ninja Sex Pa/rty,” said Danny. “I have a whole music career.”

Ryland groaned. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Ryland, have…have your comics come to life?” Alex squeaked. 

“Hold on,” Arin said. “But…you two are just characters in our show. You’re not real, either.”

“We’re characters in a show?” Alex repeated. “What show?”

“Good Game. With Ash, Sam, Lorenzo, Kamal…”

“You know them?” Ryland asked, surprised.

“We know the characters,” Danny responded.

There was a thick silence in the room. Finally, Alex spoke up.

“Look, I don’t know how you guys are real or why you’re saying we’re characters in…some sort of TV show…but you’re obviously real and we’re obviously real, so can we at least agree on that?”

“Unless this is some sort of hallucination,” both Ryland and Arin muttered at the same time. They glanced at each other. A smile quirked on Arin’s face, but Ryland frowned.

“Okay, well…” Danny laughed nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Alex grinned and offered his hand to Danny. “It’s like they say, Dan. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

Danny accepted his hand, smiling back. “I feel like we’re friends already.”

WHY I LOVE U

Venus in Aries: I heard your laughter before I saw you. And then I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And after everyone had gone home we were still running around, or you were running I was just trying to keep up. You work hard, play hard and love even harder, but you like to try on a couple of sizes before you find the right fit. It’s the way you make me laugh at the most ludicrous things, the way you know exactly what you want and are not afraid to go and get it. You make me feel like anything is possible. Our love was like a tickle war turned makeout session, and I still remember the heat when our skin touched. There will never be anyone like you. 

Venus in Taurus: Being with you is like coming home. Like a perfect dream. Like lavender candles and cuddling up to a marathon of our favourite show. You kissing me between every episode. You don’t like playing games and you don’t like being rushed when falling in love. You take your sweet time, worshipping my body and my mind so my heart can’t help but follow. I remember those lazy Sundays, strolling through the furniture store, your hand in mine and we would pretend to decorate our future house. But all we came out with were more lavender candles and a burning lust for each other. You turn the mundane into something truly magical. 

Venus in Gemini: You drive me crazy, I never know where we stand. We spend the most incredible nights together and then I don’t hear from you in forever. Maybe that’s your style, you wanna look me in the eyes and not read my words on your phone. We sit for hours and people watch, making up backstories for them. When I’m with you I have no sense of time, all I can think about is your mischievous smile and the way you play with my hair. Your love is all-consuming, like nothing in the world matters to you more. With you my sense of reason is completely clouded, I’m yours for the night and every other night. If you’ll have me. 

Venus in Cancer: My hero, my sensitive babe. Your heart on your sleeve, that look in your eyes and I was yours forever. When you kissed me I could see our lives flashing before my eyes. Sitting on opposite sides of the sofa. Your nose in a book but your hand on me, like you needed to be connected to me or else you’d die. Every time you catch me staring at you I can’t help the grin on my face. You are fragile and strong, creating this protective space around us where we can just be together. I love how you’re not afraid of your feelings, and how you already named our kids even though we need to discuss it lol. You make it feel so real, like you are the missing piece of the puzzle. 

Venus in Leo: I remember the first time I met you, it all happened so fast. At a party, my friend introducing you and before I knew it your arms were around me. I remember melting into your hug, and the electricity in the air when we finally let go. Everyone else thought it was weird but we both knew, there was no turning back. Being with you feels like running through a field of flowers, faster and faster. Your laughter and your moans echo in my head. My legs feel like giving out but your hand refuses to let go of mine. It’s that smile after you say something clever, and they way you make me feel like it’s just me and you versus the world. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this loved. 

Venus in Virgo: You make me feel whole. Driving down the freeway blasting our songs, I can’t sing but you don’t care. Your hand on the stick shift and for some reason I got all hot inside. It’s the way you wrap your arms around me at the checkout line, like I’m yours and you don’t care who knows. You’re thoughtful and observant, you make me feel like I matter to you. And it’s not an act, you are actually that kind. I’m trying so hard to describe you, but all I can think about is that night when my family fell apart. You drew a bath with bubbles and you held me until the water went cold. Then we ate raspberries (my favourite) and watched Modern Family. And then you loved me until I didn’t feel like I was falling apart anymore. I think that describes you more than words ever could. You’re the one I see sitting next to me on our porch doing a crossword puzzle, in our old bodies. But it doesn’t scare me because your spirit is forever young. 

Venus in Libra: Being in love with you is so easy. Our first date was to the movies. You gave me a red poppy and held my hand the entire time, gently playing with my fingers. My heart was about to beat out of my chest but somehow I was calm, because you were. I love the way you talk so easy, with that breezy confidence. Like you’d never tell me a lie. The way you were charming and kind to everyone from the bus driver to the server at the pizza shop. After talking to each other all night in the park, it was the only place that was still open. My mum still asks about you. I think she loved you more than I did, and that’s saying something. 

Venus in Scorpio: God, the way you tear me apart and then put me back together. Over and over again. You of all people know that life isn’t always chocolates and roses. You’re not afraid of the ugliness of human nature, instead you try to find the silver lining, the beauty in the madness. You demand that I’m honest with you, and in turn you trust me with your own secrets. It created a bond beyond love, or maybe it was love. It just felt different, like it was based in reality and not a love story. You’ve seen me at my worst and still think I’m beautiful, because you see people’s souls. Nobody can hide their true nature from you for you are an expert of reading between the lines. Your animalistic passion penetrates deep, and everything becomes a haze of lust and obsession. Because if you’re not obsessed it’s just not worth it. I would trust you with my life, because you would sacrifice your own for the one you love. 

Venus in Sagittarius: We had just gotten comfortable on the top of the mountain we climbed when you hit me with “Do you think out of seven billion that some people have the same personality?” And you packed my favourite sandwich, tomato, mozzarella and basil. A moment of breathless kisses and triumph. Your strength made me feel strong too, and your devotion made my heart swell. You never stand still but it doesn’t matter, because you take me with you and always make sure I’m alright. You make me feel included, showing me off and introducing me to all your friends. I’ve never felt more proud than when I’m standing next to you. When you told me how much you loved me I knew it was true. 

Venus in Capricorn: The true romantic. What drew me in was that calm stare, you looked like trouble I swear I was gonna faint on the spot. You could keep up with me, and when you took my hand and said “Trust me?” I somehow believed you. But what made me fall for you was how you kept all your promises. Your presence is honest and true, the way you make me feel like I would never be alone, like I would always have a friend. I love falling asleep in your arms to your heartbeat. You’re gentle with me, I can feel your love in every touch. Your love made me believe I could do anything, because I knew you would stick by my side. If I asked you to. 

Venus in Aquarius: Keep it cool, that’s how you roll. Almost untouchable, but you let me touch you. It was like the seasons changed in seconds. You finished that last drop of champagne and said “Let’s get wet”, then we jumped in the pool. And then you kissed me. It felt like breathing underwater, I don’t even think you live in the same world as the rest of us. I texted you at 2 a.m. and you didn’t hesitate. Trapped between your body and the wall, your lips on my neck and I was already in heaven. I never thought you loved me back, until you showed up on my doorstep, whiskey on your breath and tears in your eyes. After that I never doubted you, because I knew then that your love was more than words. 

Venus in Pisces: With you it’s all about the moment, and moments with you are plush and whimsical. Like sitting on a cloud. You are still the only person to ever write me a poem. And when you asked me if I liked it, how you let me see your vulnerable side even though the look in your eyes was sheer terror, you were brave. I was at loss for words so I just kissed you deeply. You see the beauty in the little things, like asking me about what I dreamt last night or giving me cupid earrings so they could whisper sweet nothings in my ear when you’re not around. Your love is poetic, you actually think of me and what makes me happy. Whenever you see something that reminds you of me you always let me know. I can’t help but think how lucky I am to be so cherished.

My Way - Chapter 01

Description: Jungkook doesn’t appreciate your boyfriend’s insistence that he stop sleeping with you and he knows just how to prove that you like it his way.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, some underlying angst

Word Count: 9,324

Warnings: Fuckboy!Jungkook, Dom!Jungkook, infidelity, rough sex, thigh riding, very light breath play, gratuitous and shamelessly self-indulgent bragging via sext

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anonymous asked:

Hey! Can I ask where this " Jeremy Shada said we don't need to worry about lgbt representation, we will be happy" comes from? Is there like a video or a tweet that proves that? Bc I never saw evidence and honestly I am concerned that this is just sb messing with our hopes. Also, isn't it possible that the lgbt representation has nothing to do with lance? Maybe it is sb else. Idk. I hate getting my hopes up ._.

it’s from this post! i doubt the OP is messing with us lol also it’s 100% something to do with lance, my good dude……… BECAUSE……

this is official art by lauren montgomery. i have said this before and i’ll say it again, but pidge’s sign has to do with her arc, her gender reveal. keith’s sign has to do with his arc, his galra heritage reveal. this was posted before s2 aired and it clearly foreshadows galra keith. not coincidences. lance’s sign definitely has to do with him and his arc, his sexuality reveal. lauren would not make keith’s sign and pidge’s sign related to them and then make lance’s sign have nothing to do with him. this stuff is all planned from the start. 

she’s also the one who said this…

[on expressions] “if we know that a character is feeling something about that- that moment- especially if we know there’s something coming up down the line that maybe hasn’t been revealed, but it would make that character feel a certain way- we try to insert in there a nod to it.”

which is important to remember while watching the show but also when looking at this art because a lot can be taken from their expressions. keith, pidge and lance look much more unsure and nervous and they’re holding their signs with both of their hands, indicating that HEY this is my sign, it has something to do with me and i’m anxious about it. hunk, allura and shiro appear to be showing support, shiro and hunk also, especially, look very confident. allura has both of her hands on the sign but her arm is around pidge, like a hug. allura’s the one who tried to coax pidge into telling her gender. shiro easily could’ve been put with pidge since he was very supportive of her… but allura has her own connection to the gender sign (and shiro’s put with lance for a reason). she’s a princess but she is not your “typical princess.” here’s a comment someone left on my klance masterpost about this and i completely agree…

I think Allura has one more reason for holding a gender sign with Pidge, and that is because she challenges the gender stereotypes. She’s not your typical little princess who needs to be protected by all means. She’s a tough young woman that can (and will) kick your ass, and I think that alone is a very powerful message to all the girls that watch this show. It’s a reminder that, no matter what society might claim, they are strong, and they can accomplish anything if they put their mind to it.

hunk has his hand on keith’s shoulder, showing support. he stood by keith after he found out he’s part galra. he was cracking jokes about it and he was there for him. think “belly of the weblum” and all their moments together. also, in “stayin’ alive” when allura thanks hunk for getting the scaultrite, he says, “no problem. you know, keith was there too.” hunk is samoan, so he also has his own connection to the race sign. 

then, we have shiro holding the LGBT sign with lance, one hand on his shoulder in support. the LGBT rep definitely has to do with lance, you shouldn’t worry. there’s so much backing it up. i think shiro will play some sort of supportive role when it comes to lance’s sexuality and since hunk and allura are connected to the signs they’re holding, shiro may end up being LGBT, too. 

also, the sign art connects with the paladins of old, as well… which was pointed out to me by @farmlandtensions

zarkon, a galra, was the original black paladin.
keith, a part galra boy, is the current black paladin.
THE RACE SIGN. 

trigel, the only female paladin on her team, was the original green paladin.
pidge, the only female paladin on her team (before allura became a paladin, obviously) is the current green paladin.
THE GENDER SIGN. 

blaytz, who was shown flirting with a male galra, was the original blue paladin.
lance, a boy who is totally not straight, we grew to know as the blue paladin.
THE LGBT SIGN. 

they make parallels and show similarities between blaytz and lance to show that, yes, they’re comparing them… rather than comparing blaytz and allura.

FOR THE 100TH TIME, this stuff isn’t a coincidence. 

the bi flag colors and the gay flag colors have been used in the show on two separate occasions now. first, in s1, ep6… an episode with some great klance moments. next, in s3, ep3… another episode with some great klance moments. studio mir is animating VLD and they also animated TLOK. the bi flag colors were in the background of the finale of korra.

i’ve always theorized that since pidge’s gender arc was in s1 and keith’s race arc was in s2, that lance’s sexuality arc would be in s3. other people think this, too. seeing as how s4 is basically just part 2 of s3, taking the BIG amount of development between keith and lance in s3 into consideration and the fact that lance did not flirt with allura for the entirety of s3, or anyone, actually. i think this will, hopefully, come to fruition in s4 and they will touch on lance’s sexuality. 

also, in interviews, they don’t always simply say lance flirts with girls. jeremy shada, especially, does this. in lance’s birthday livestream, he says… 

[about lance] “a super like, flirty person that’s hitting on every *hesitates* person that has two legs.”

i’m not kidding btw, he literally hesitates a little before saying person. i don’t have the link to the vid but you can find it easily by googling lance’s birthday livestream. in the famous “lance falling in love” quote, he does this, too… 

jeremy would def know by now that lance isn’t straight and it’s really obvious that he’s sitting on that information. he’s done this at least one other time that i know of, as well. if lance was straight, if he only liked girls… this stuff? it would not happen. they would always just say girl/girls.

It Ain’t Me: Part 7

Jungkook x reader ft. Yoongi

Request: Can you make a fake text about how bf hears a rumor about y/n and decides to break up without even knowing the true facts

Genre: Angst

Words: 2.4 K

Part 6 | Part 8




You took great interest in reading novels and visualizing them in your mind however, one thing you were never able to visualize without cracking up was when people said, “It’s as if time slowed down.” How could one not crack up at that? It took a comical tint when you tried to visualize it in your head. However, now you weren’t so sure about that because you were feeling exactly like that. The moment your eyes landed on Jungkook and Seulgi, you could swear Kronos himself had come alive to make things worse for you because a heavy feeling settled on you, and everything suddenly seemed to be moving at a very slow pace.

You noticed every detail within a matter of a few long seconds. Their intertwined hands, the transition of Jungkook’s expression from shock to disbelief to anger, Seulgi’s widened eyes with a twinge of fear in them and the change in Yoongi’s body language, which suddenly seemed passive aggressive with his hands casually crossed across his chest but eyes, hardened and angry.  

After what seemed like an eternity of jumbled, nonsensical thoughts appearing and disappearing out of your head, you took a deep breath and snapped out of your trance. You forced your shocked features to accommodate a poker face and turned around in your seat to face the bar.  


You couldn’t even bear to look at them.

Yoongi noticed your noiseless but pronounced decision and strangely enough, he came back on your side and sat down as well. You looked at him with slightly questioning eyes but he just gave you a knowing look as if to say: I told you I’m on your side on this.

You gave him a small smile despite your resolve to not show any emotions under the scrutiny of the two unexpected visitors but only because you couldn’t help yourself. How funny was this situation? Your boyfriend and best friend, well-ex boyfriend and ex best friend, were not by your side but this unexpected friend, who you had never thought would be with you offering you support, possibly at the expense of his friendship, was doing just that.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or Yoongi’s unexpectedly supportive behavior this night but you were feeling warm on the inside despite all the tension surrounding you. At least there was one person, one friend, who was here, sitting by your side and listening to you.  You didn’t have to get affected by their presence. It’s not like they hadn’t individually made it clear to you that they were perfectly happy with each other. You could enjoy this night without paying attention to them and you would.

Your resolve, however, slightly weakened as you noticed Jungkook had broken out of his stupor and was very evidently walking towards you and Yoongi, leaving Seulgi in her place. He looked confused and angry. Your eyes were unresponsive throughout his short journey till Yoongi’s stool but your heart began beating so fast you could feel your ears vibrating with its movement. Nonetheless, you maintained your calm exterior until Jungkook stopped right behind Yoongi.


“Hyung, what the hell are you doing here?”


Of course, he wasn’t even going to acknowledge you.


You looked at Yoongi, expecting him to respond to Jungkook’s question but were surprised to find him looking at you.

“____, you want to get out of here? I’ll take you home.”

Your mouth fell slightly open at his blatant disregard for Jungkook’s question and looked up to find him mirroring your expression. Maybe Yoongi hadn’t noticed Jungkook?

“Y-Yoongi…” You gestured behind him to tell him about Jungkook. He looked at you and then turned back in his stool. You looked carefully at the exchange between the two friends, the tension getting the better of you.

Only, it didn’t last long.

Yoongi looked at him for two seconds and again, turned back towards you.

There it was. He was doing this on purpose.

“I know.” Yoongi said to you. “However, what I want you to pay attention to right now is my question. Do you want to get out of here?” He looked at you intensely, waiting for your answer.

At that moment you realized, he was telling you to make a decision much more important than just leaving the café. You either stay there and talk it out with Jungkook or leave him behind.

You considered both the options. Stay here and talk it out with him? Tempting. After all, you had tried so hard to get him to meet you even once without any success and now that he was finally in front of you, you had the chance.


But why should you?


It shouldn’t be you who’s getting anxious. It shouldn’t be you who’s hanging by every word that comes out of his mouth. It shouldn’t be trying to prove something to him, to offer explanations when there is not an iota of truth in the accusations put upon you. It’s been a while too late for you to even consider this option.

Leave him behind? Also sounds tempting. After all there’s contempt in you. Anger, frustration and hate. Yes, hate. You hate Jungkook for not believing you. You hate him for not listening to you. You hate him for not even giving you one chance. You hate her too. You hate them both. But why should you be the one running away?

Without newfound determination, you looked at Yoongi who was patiently waiting for an answer. You glanced at Jungkook as well, who was looking at you suspiciously.


“I want to stay here. Of course, if you want to leave we can.”


Yoongi smiled at your response, gauging the hidden meaning behind your words. You were not going to back down or hide in fear. You were going face the situation if it came to that. Or so you told yourself.


“Okay, we’ll stay here.”


You could see Jungkook getting agitated from the corner of your eyes. His breaths were shorter now, and his free hand- the one was not in his pocket was fisting and unfisting repeatedly. Of course, he was confused. He wasn’t going to just back down because just because he was ignored a few times. He brought his hand up to Yoongi’s shoulder


“Hyung. What is happening here?”


Yoongi finally looked back at him. “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“What do you mean why am I here?” Jungkook asked him with incredulous eyes. “Why are you here hyung?”

“I am having a drink with _____, as you can see. Why don’t you go enjoy your time with your girlfriend?” Yoongi gestured, not so subtly.

A number of emotions passed through Jungkook’s face but his anger didn’t budge. He looked at you finally and even though you should have been prepared, you were still surprised by the amount of hate his eyes held as they looked into yours.  He looked at you as if you had once again let him down.


“Is this your way of taking revenge ____?” He spat out, his tone attracting a few stares from the people sitting around you. But you couldn’t care less about that. You were more focused on his words. You knew he was trying to rile you up.

“My way of taking revenge?” You scoffed. “C’mon Jeon, you know me better than that.”

“I don’t though, do I?” He shot back, his hand tracing his chin in derision. “I would’ve been prepared to see you shaking your pretty little ass for other men if I did.”


You felt a sharp jolt of pain hit your chest at his words. All sarcasm and humor left your brain as it tried hard to make you believe that the love of your life had openly shamed your character. You caught people staring in your direction, giving you unsavory looks but you tuned it out. All your focus was getting invested on keeping your goddamn tears in. You looked down at your lap and swallowed the huge lump in your throat.


“Jeon Jungkook, it’ll do you good to leave right now otherwise I swear to fucking god I’ll break your face.”


Yoongi’s voice rang out as he abandoned his drink and stood up to face Jungkook. Despite being slightly shorter, his aura was more intimidating and commanding. He didn’t flinch as he lightly pushed Jungkook in the stomach as a signal for him to back off.  


Jungkook looked at his hyung, clearly taken aback by his words. 


“Hyung,” He grit his teeth and stepped forward once again. “What do you think you’re doing right now?” His tone lowered considerably but you noticed that it was not out of respect but anger.

Yoongi was not one to be intimidated though. “I said, get the hell out of here punk, before I break your face.”

“Have you lost your mind, Hyung?” Jungkook exclaimed. “You will fight with me for…” He looked at you like you up and down, like you were something filthy, something untouchable. “Her?”  


Yoongi’s eyes grew wide at the vulgarity of his expression and he growled, bringing his hand up to hit him. Before he could land a punch though, you stopped him by grabbing his arm. It wasn’t like you felt generous towards Jungkook, far from it really. But you had had enough. Your heart felt like it was placed on a bed of needles. What had you even done to deserve such contempt? The tears had long escaped the holds of your fragile will and were falling down your face rapidly.  You heartbeat was skyrocketing, a little too unstable to be normal. You got up, you wanted to get out of here otherwise you would suffocate to death. However, the moment you got up from your seat your legs gave out. Yoongi rushed to grab you before you could fall down and held you in place.


“___! What’s happening? Talk to me!” His touch was light but through your blurry vision you saw the worry on his face.

You pressed on his arm to bring him closer to you and he complied, putting his ears near your mouth.

“I want to get out of here,” You panted. “I think I’m getting an anxiety attack.”



Jungkook’s heart fell when he saw your knees giving out. He reflexively reached out but Yoongi beat him to it. Had he gone too far? Were you drunk? He didn’t know. What could he do? He felt so very angry, so hateful. How could you sit here and enjoy your time? Did you not feel any guilt? Why did it have to be Yoongi? He had too many questions and no answers. Everything around him was hazy.

His jealousy flared the moment he saw you pulling Yoongi towards you and mumbling in his ears. Yoongi nodded and immediately put his hands around your waist pulling you up. You leaned on him for support, closing your eyes.


“Get out of the way, I need to take her home.”


Jungkook looked at Yoongi when he realized he was the one being addressed. Yoongi’s eyes were stormy; Jungkook could tell he was really angry with him. But why? Why was he angry with him? Jungkook grit his teeth. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t he see that you were the one who betrayed him? He was the victim here. He looked at you as your shallow breaths brushed away the few hairs falling on your face. Your face shined with sweat and tears and your lips were dry. He narrowed his eyes. Were you sick?

He again reflexively reached out to touch your face but you opened your eyes just in time. There was an unreadable emotion in your eyes but it was one that sent shivers down his spine. His hand froze mid-air.


“Don’t fucking touch me Jeon Jungkook. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”


Jungkook’s heart hammered in his chest at your words. A feeling of guilt settled over him as he looked in your eyes. You were the one in the wrong and yet your eyes were fixed. You stare was unflinching.

Your stare was unapologetically true.

His eyes widened. He could sense the seed of doubt growing in his mind but he quickly dismissed it. He couldn’t be wrong, he knew he couldn’t be…but what if he was? What would he do then?

He was forced out of his thoughts as Yoongi’s hands roughly pushed him out of the way. He staggered back but collected himself before he bumped into something. When he looked up again, Yoongi was already half way to the doors with you in his arms and you…you were sleeping?


No. No goddammit. You were unconscious.


“Shit.” Jungkook muttered under his breath and ran forward, concern taking over his senses. Yoongi was almost near the door when Jungkook rushed and stopped him.

“Hyung! What happened? Is she okay?” He asked, a little out of breath.

“Knock it off, kid. We can discuss this later. She needs to get out of here and she doesn’t want you there.” Yoongi told him sternly, once again turning away to step out. Once gain, Jungkook stopped him.

“Please, Hyung! At least tell me what’s happening to her! Is-“

Yoongi’s voice was steel cold when he interrupted Jungkook.


“You’re a fucking piece of shit, you know that? A brat. Do you think you can just step in anytime and do any thing you fucking want to? You practically called her a whore in front of everyone and you think you get to show concern 5 minutes past? If the situation was any different, I would have beaten the shit out of you. Get it together, you fucking bastard.”

Silence settled around Jungkook after Yoongi finished. There was nothing he could say. Despite the noise, all he could register was the stillness around him as he looked at you lying in Yoongi’s arms and Yoongi holding you protectively.

“Oh and Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice rang in his ears and he caught his hyung’s eyes once again.


“Your girlfriend is waiting for you. Have fun.”


With that, he opened the door and rushed out, leaving Jungkook standing there immobile behind the doors, unable to decipher his own thoughts and feelings.


To be Continued…

Much love, 

Inferno-loop

Negotiations

I walked into the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the alien waiting for me. Its huge eyes just looked like a jet black sclera set in a sack of vaguely damp, wrinkled gray leather. If eyes are a window into the soul, this creepy little guy would give satan a run for his money. They just put me on edge, somehow. I’d have to make eye contact anyway, but it could wait.

I strode up to the meeting table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. I shuffled around in my bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of tech, which I set on the table in front of me.

“Before we begin, I want to be sure of a few things. This device you’ve provided us with, it is 100% effective at understanding and translating languages, correct?”

The alien across from me nodded. It’s a nice little allowance they’ve made for comfort, learning our body language, but its bulbous head threw the whole gesture off. It made me think of one of those old inflatable toys with a weight on the bottom, that would lean too far to the side before bouncing straight back up. Woobles or something. It didn’t really matter.

“Nearly. We occasionally find a race with one or two concepts that it has trouble with, but that’s easily smoothed over.”

I took a deep breath, and waited a moment to compose myself. This whole thing was going to be more trying than not interrupting old man Higgins up the street while he went on about whatever racist sentiment was in his head at the moment.

“One or two…okay. That’s odd.”

The alien blinked. Eyelids came in from not just the top and bottom, but also the sides. That’s just plain creepy. Reminds me of one of those really old movies they threw on the media blacklist pretty much as soon as first contact started. Something in black. Whatever it was, I remember seeing it as a kid, and that guy at the beginning had nothing on this alien’s eyes.

“Have you already found something it can’t translate?”

I nodded, then pulled out my communicator and scrolled through a few documents. I really needed to clean this thing out. Can’t believe I didn’t get around to it before coming to such an important meeting. Imagine the debacle that would result if I opened exactly the wrong thing. Never can know what that might be, honestly.

“Of a sort, yes. Mind humoring me for a few minutes?”

The alien steepled its hands together, and leaned forward. That’s just plain creepy. I wonder how they learned such context specific body language? Not that it really matters, I guess. Not my problem.

“Certainly. After all, it can take years to accept a race into the Federation.”

Nodding again, I pulled up a document on my communicator, then leaned back in my chair as I began. This was going to be more interesting than that time your classmate Jimmy found some old matches somewhere and almost burned the school down by mistake.

“Excellent. This shouldn’t take much time. I mentioned that we found some issues with your device. Allow me to demonstrate: Espionage.”

The little device on the table beeped, and a red light flashed.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”

I sighed. That one had been an accident. We just had the thing sitting in a conference room while we discussed the implications of the visit when it came up. But, when something that simple for us to understand came up, we had to try for more.

“Reverse Engineering.”

Again, a beep and a flash of red.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”

“Spycraft.”

And again with the beep. This was going to get irritating if I didn’t speed things up a bit. Too bad we hadn’t managed to find a mute option for that feature.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FO-”

“Overwhelming Force”

“ERROR: NO-”

“Scorched Earth”

“ER-”

“Kamikaze”

“E-”

Blitzkrieg, Stealth, Mutually Assured Destruction, Acceptable Losses, Pyrrhic Victory, Guerilla Warfare, Encirclement, Entrenchment, Siege.”

The device gave off a series of distressed beeps, punctuated by rapid blinking of the little red light. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

“TOO MANY ERRORS DETECTED. REBOOTING. RUNNING SELF DIAGNOSTIC. NO DISCREPANCIES FOUND,”

I paused, and glanced across the table at the alien before looking back down at the translator. This was going to hit it harder than a washed up holovid actor with no auditions and less money hits rock bottom.

“Xenocide”

The chair across from me clattered to the ground as the alien practically fell out of its seat. I don’t blame the poor thing. Of all the aggressive, militaristic words we tried, that was one of the ones we least expected to translate. I mean, really. Who has a word for the intentional extermination of an entire sapient species when they don’t even understand fundamental hostile international mechanics like spying?

“Why do you have a word for…what was all that just now?”

I chuckled a bit while motioning for the alien to sit back down. His reaction had been pretty good, perfectly suitable for one of those hammed-up old dramas where the hero realizes they’ve been working with the villain all along.

“We were confused about that too. So we took a look at the information you sent as part of first contact with us. We noticed something interesting. Every single race in your Federation is carnivorous. Why is that?”

The alien seemed smaller somehow as it settled back into a seat. It looked kind of like a balloon slowly losing air, if that balloon was made of moldering gray leather with eyes that made your spinal column decide it wanted a holiday in Fiji.

“First contact has always been made after sapient races make it to multiple worlds. We’ve never found a sapient herbivorous race which failed to destroy themselves in resource wars and aggressive action. We’ve never found herbivores capable of surviving long enough to leave their own world.”

I leaned forward in the chair and smiled while finally making direct eye contact with the alien. I think the poor thing shivered when I did that. Not that I blame it. Imagine your reaction when you start to put the pieces together and realize that your friendly, upstanding next door neighbor might be the world’s most wanted criminal.

“And the races you have found, while commonly using threat displays, do not waste resources on wars they cannot easily win, correct?”

The alien nodded as it slouched a bit in its chair. It looked kind of like it was trying to hide. Who wouldn’t want to hide from the monsters in their closet?

“Wasted resources means decreased likelihood of survival.”

I shrugged. That was true enough, though rather coldly logical. Dispassionate logic like that has never been our strong suit. Then again, that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place, so it evens out.

“And yet herbivores constantly waste resources on aggression, on movement, on having more young than will possibly survive.”

The alien was staring at me. I’m not sure when the last time it blinked was. I wonder if those eyes need some kind of lubrication to keep from drying out. Probably, they looked a bit less creepy than they should’ve. Looked like they were losing their shine.

“And they die for it. That’s exactly why we’ve never encountered spacefaring herbivores. Their inherent aggression is their own demise.”

I held eye contact. I’d almost swear the alien was a weird statue right now. Don’t know who would commission a statue made of old greasy leather, but I’m sure there’s someone with too much money and too little sense who would give it a shot.

“Indeed. Now, back to the subject at hand. I’ll ask you before we continue: what can you offer humans for joining your Federation?”

The alien sputtered as it started moving again. I’d swear it looked offended. Maybe it doesn’t see where this is going. Not that it really matters, I guess. I mean, it probably matters about as much as posting a formal complaint to a new corporate policy, which is to say not at all.

“We’ve already sent the offer. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”

I nodded, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm on the table with my fingers. I never could remember where I learned this stupid tune. I’ve known it as long as I can remember, and it just moves into my head on occasion and sticks around like that one couchsurfing friend who doesn’t understand the idea of wearing out their welcome.

“And I’m asking, what else do you have to offer?”

The alien just shook its head again, staring at the device. I wonder if it thought we might’ve tampered with it. As if we knew how. That little thing is way beyond our current abilities. We had some scientists pry it open and look inside, just to be sure.

“Nothing. I’m not sure why you’re-”

I raised my hand, cutting him off. Huh. Not sure why that worked. Did they learn that much of our body language? That’s still really creepy, if it’s the case. Or, maybe I just have it on edge. I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.

“May I have permission to connect my datapad with my ship’s computers?”

The alien glanced away from me for a moment. I assume it was checking in with superiors somehow. Maybe it was psychic, to an extent. Or maybe they just had an implant of some sort. We’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.

“Yes, if you like.”

I sighed. I guess that makes things easier for us. I don’t think anyone was going to like what I was about to do. This whole thing felt kind of like one of those holovids of an accident, where you know what’s coming and don’t want to keep going, but for some reason you just can’t seem to stop and pull yourself away.

“Computer, show video: Hiroshima”

A screen appeared in the air above my datapad. It started playing back an old, grainy video. Shaky, taken by hand in an aircraft in a firefight. Below, you can barely see a city being blotted out by a massive explosion. A cloud of smoke, fire and debris was rapidly climbing into the sky, billowing, growing, blooming into an eerie and easily recognized mushroom cloud.

“That’s…you’re using weapons of that scale on a population center? How recent was this?”

I shrugged, and closed the video. The screen on my datapad went back to the document I had up earlier. Gotta love how well they managed to predict this whole thing. I made a mental note to recommend a raise for whoever set up that document for me.

“Three centuries ago. Prior to our invention of spaceflight. Part of a much larger conflict. This is a relatively minor example of “overwhelming force”“

“ERROR: NO A-”

“Shut it. Computer, show infosheet: Battle of Stalingrad.”

A series of graphs and diagrams appeared above my datapad. They showed resources, time, maps, battle plans, and death tolls. Images were interspersed throughout, as were annotations on the tactical value of this, the emotional value of that. Prominent among them was a single apartment building, including notes on sniping from the roof and support via tunnels.

“That…what purpose would that…why w-”

Again, I raised my hand to cut him off, before closing the infosheet. Maybe it was both. Nah, couldn’t be. Only way it was both having this guy on edge and our body language is if it somehow had our body language built in. Unsettling thought, but not exactly likely.

“Because Stalingrad was an advantageous location and the people who died there were considered ‘Acceptable losses’“

“ERRO-”

“Computer, show gallery: General Sherman’s March to the Sea.”

A multitude of images appeared over the datapad. Rail lines and roads intentionally broken and destroyed. Farms and fields scoured clean and left to fallow. Buildings and towns razed to the ground. A broken people left to mourn and starve.

“So much waste…that can’t be intentional, can it?”

I glanced at the images, the wanton destruction that campaign caused, and the very orders that caused it. That kind of thing may be considered morally reprehensible now, even a war crime, but it wasn’t always. At the time, the strategy was extolled as one of the reasons the war ended the way it did.

“It was intentional.”

The alien stared at me, its reflective black eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them before. Creepy as all hell, that’s for sure. I’d rather not deal with these kinds of meetings in the future. Maybe after this I could negotiate for some kind of retirement.

“But…why?”

I tapped my datapad and closed the gallery, then leaned back and tossed my feet on the table. May as well relax, I already knew how this was going to end.

“Because it rendered the enemy unable to use resources Sherman couldn’t keep. Computer, assemble and show video grouping: RTS Games”

A large grid of videos came up, showing a huge range of scenes. Largely battle, the settings varied from open space to deep ocean, from early history to the far “future.” Even battles across space and time could be seen.

“The translator can’t have gotten that right. Those are military tactical simulations. Higher level than anything I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

I laughed as I closed out all of the videos and turned back to the alien. Creepy and unsettling as it might be, I’m pretty sure I was terrifying the poor thing. Not that I really felt sorry for it. Not at all.

“No. They aren’t. Those are games. Toys. For. Fun. And they’re a couple hundred years out of date. From what I’ve seen, nearly every human capable of coherent speech is capable of tactically overwhelming your Federation. And since we’re already here, in space, it’s too late for you to say no. So, I’ll ask again:

What do you have to offer us?”

#awkward #pining #ministry

Prompts: @tera2
Author: @queenofthyme

Harry read the article again. He didn’t know why he put himself through it. Rita Skeeter’s outlandish claims never failed to make him angry. And he’d already forced The Daily Prophet to run a redaction days ago. 

No, he did know, actually. It was the accompanying image. The one with Draco Malfoy staring right into the camera, unblinking, a challenge in his eyes. It was familiar but at the same time nothing Harry had ever seen before (except during his many rereads of this particular paper). Malfoy had aged. Matured obviously since he was now a Ministry official. There was just something about his face. The same but different. Harry was drawn to it.

“Auror Potter." 

Harry looked up to find that same face at his doorway, focusing a steely gaze on Harry. He was so shocked he forgot he was holding a cup of tea. It dropped to his desk with an embarrassing clatter, spilling its contents, all over Malfoy’s inked face.  

The Malfoy at Harry’s office door – the real one – didn’t move. His eyes flickered down to Harry’s desk, watching the spill unfold passively.

Harry jumped to his feet and quickly bundled up the wet paper, throwing it face down into a waste basket at his feet. He wasn’t sure if he’d been fast enough.

He looked back up to Malfoy, searching for any sign he might have seen. Nothing. But that hardly meant much. Harry suspected Malfoy’s emotions didn’t play so obviously on his face anymore. He nodded in what he hoped was a professional courteous manner. "Dralfoy.”

Harry froze, the awful blunder hitting his ears just as it came out of his mouth. He could feel himself blushing, his palms getting clammy, his knees weak. Was simply Malfoy’s presence enough to make him come undone these days?

And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Harry, not quite sure how much longer he’d be able to stand for, slumped back into his seat - or at least attempted to – but misjudged the position and ended up plummeting to the floor instead.

The only saving grace – if there was any positive to the situation at all – was that at least on the floor, behind his desk, he was hidden from sight. He wondered if he crawled under his desk and stayed there, if Malfoy would get the idea and leave. Harry was seriously considering the option when Malfoy came into view again, stepping around the desk to loom over Harry.

He offered a hand. Harry gladly took it, forgetting for a moment the current predicament of said hands. And sure enough, after Malfoy helped Harry to his feet, he quickly let go and wiped his hand on his trousers.

Harry wanted to close his eyes and crawl up into a ball in the corner of the room. He never wanted to look Malfoy in the eye again. In less than a minute, he had made himself look like a complete fool. And all it took was for Malfoy to walk in the bloody room.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “I just came by to say hello. I thought it was polite given we work in the same building now. Which, of course, you already know.” His eyes darted to the waste basket. Shit.

“I had The Daily Prophet write a redaction,” Harry blurted out, as if that would help. Although at least he managed to get the words right this time.

“That was you? I should have guessed. You never miss an opportunity to save my skin.” Malfoy’s lips quirked upward for the smallest moment before his composure returned. “Well, it was nice seeing how the other side lives. I suppose I must get back to it.”

“Right,” Harry managed to nod. “I’ll get the door for you.”

They both stared at the open door.

Having already committed to the pointless task, Harry hurried forward and tripped over his own feet, falling right into Malfoy’s waiting – his reflexes were still as fast as they were in Quidditch – arms. Could Harry be more embarrassing?

Malfoy righted Harry but kept a firm grip on him – perhaps he thought Harry might slump to the floor otherwise, which was probably an accurate assumption at this stage.

There was amusement in Malfoy’s face now, a lightness in his eyes. “Are you always this clumsy, Potter, or am I special?”

“You’re special,” Harry answered quickly as he didn’t want Malfoy to think this was how all his mornings went. Although, after he realised what he’d said, he quickly tried to take it back: “No, I mean, wait, I mean, that’s not what I  -“

Malfoy took a step back, dropping his arms. “No need to be so flustered, Potter,” he interrupted. “I keep all the newspapers with your face on them too.”

Harry’s brain short-circuited. He must have stood there blinking at Malfoy for a solid five seconds before he was able to ask: “All of them?”

“Thirty-four and counting.” Malfoy winked. “You know, Potter, if you were to take me out to dinner, I’m sure the outing might be scandalous enough to make the front page. We could add to both our collections.”

“If I – you – dinner?” Harry repeated, a little discombobulated.

“Why, Potter,” Malfoy said, a cheeky smile appearing on his face, “I thought you’d never ask. I’d love to.”

Harry blinked – it was the only action he was capable of.

Malfoy laughed lightly when Harry didn’t reply. He made to exit, but paused briefly to call out over his shoulder: “I finish at six.”

Only when Malfoy was out of view did Harry let his knees give in.

more like this l @queenofthyme

A Definitely Incomplete List Of My Favorite Moments From The Lightning Thief (book), because I'm having Feelings
  • Percy very causally mentioning times he accidentally hit a school bus with a canon or dropped fifth graders into shark-infested water
  • Grover Underwood
  • Just everything he’s ever done
  • Percy running an illegal candy ring out of his dorm room 
  • “I was worried they found out I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the internet and were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.”
  • When Percy thought Grover was going to give him some deep, meaningful commentary on life to make him feel better but Grover just wanted Percy’s lunch
  • Percy tried so hard to do well on his Latin final and Chiron somehow thinks it’s a good idea to tell him he’s ‘not normal’ in front of the class my poor boy
  • That one part where Percy essentially went “Oh hey mom’s home!!! Better reschedule this panic attack I was having!!” 
  • When Percy did that weird hand sign (that was never explained) and the door slammed on Gabe so hard he flew up the steps
  • The fact that when Grover finally tracked Percy down he wasn’t wearing any pants. Like, there was literally no reason for him to not have the fake feet and the jeans on. No actual reason for him to be free balling it. Percy just needed a shock apparently. Showing up in the middle of a hurricane with no pants, dramatic ass satyr I love him. 
  • The SATISFYING DEATH of Gabe’s Camaro + Sally apparently learned bullfighting just in case because she truly is the best mom
  • Percy killing the minotaur with its own horn
  • Percy dragging Grover over the camp line while crying for his mom literally end me
  • You drool when you sleep.” could we get more iconic here
  • Percy teasing Annabeth about her crush on Luke
  • When Luke stole some toiletries for Percy and he got a little choked up because it was apparently the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him
  • The fact that Chiron basically told Annabeth that Percy was her destiny
  • The fact that a recovering alcoholic god of wine who hates children was deemed fit to run a camp for children
  • Not so fun: Percy, upon meeting Mr. D, immediately recognizing the signs of an alcoholic and going out of his way to sit far away from him ‘just in case’
  • The fact that everyone just expected him to hear ‘the greek gods are real’ and move on?? why would no one let this boy be in shock omg
  • Zeus apparently had a thing for the fluffy 80′s hairstyles
  • “the real world is where the monsters are” 
  • The fact that Poseidon could have claimed Percy at literally any moment but he apparently decided he really needed that dramatic reveal during capture the flag.
  • When Zeus was feeling Extra Dramatic™ after Percy’s claiming so he started making it rain inside the camp boarders and everyone was lowkey freaking out
  • When Annabeth pulls off her invisible cap and declares she’s going on the quest with him and Percy was like, beyond unsurprised that she was there and didn’t even attempt to fight her 
  • Chiron forgot to give Percy a sword from his father for like, an entire month. 
  • Grover with those freaking flying shoes oh my God
  • Annabeth blushing literally any time Luke talks to her 
  • IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT ARGUS, HEAD OF CAMP SECURITY
  • lmao when Percy and Annabeth start bickering about something and Argus just winks at Percy because he knows
  • When they were playing hackey sack with an apple but it got too close to Grover’s mouth and he just ate the whole thing
  • The entire bus scene oh my God
  • “I was about to become the ADHD Poster Child of the Year” as he’s CRASHING A BUS
  • Annabeth on a fury’s back 
  • the explosion. just. all gr8. 
  • When Grover tries to play a path finder song and Percy just immediately slams into a tree. Also the fact that the path finder song was actually just a Hillary Duff number. 
  • “You two are giving me a migraine, and satyr’s don’t even get migraines!” 
  • Percy actually, truly trying to sell the story that the three of them are circus orphans who got separated from their ringleader 
  • Grover: hey guys this place is REALLY SHADY and we need to leave
  • Annabeth and Percy: but f o o d
  • Can you imagine walking into a store and finding your dead uncle’s body on display? Like????
  • When Medusa revealed herself and Annabeth’s running around invisible, Percy’s swinging a sword blindly and Grover’s flying around screaming and trying to whack her with a stick: everyone here is a MESS
  • When Annabeth was overly annoyed with Percy after that ordeal??? Sweetheart you fell for the trick too
  • Name something more iconic than 12 year old Percy Jackson mailing the decapitated head of Medusa to the gods on Mt. Olympus in an act of sheer pettiness. I dare you. 
  • When Percy was insisting on taking first watch while the others slept and Grover was basically like “hey kiddo listen to this” and played a song that immediately knocked him out so he could sleep all night 
  • “Percy. Say hello to the poodle.”
  • Percy seeing all the Greek creatures from the train window 
  • When Annabeth was dragging the boys to the St. Louis Arch and Percy’s claustrophobic ass Did Not Want To Get In That Tiny Elevator but he went anyway because he wanted Annabeth to be happy. That boy has had it bad since the start. 
  • “I am Echidna!”
  • “Isn’t…isn’t that a type of anteater?”
  • I HATE AUSTRALIA.” 
  • How many times has Percy actually been poisoned throughout all the series I literally want a count 
  • ‘Lemme just, uh….jump off the fucking St. Louis Arch and hope I don’t die when I hit the water.’
  • There is just something very aesthetic about Percy lighting a fire in the bottom of a river 
  • Percy’s got so much pent-up rage that he’s just immediately ready to wreck Ares upon meeting him omfg
  • THE THRILL RIDE O’ LOVE
  • Annabeth getting so worked up and flustered over going down there with Percy because it’s a love ride and Percy’s just like “you literally do not have to make this a Thing” lmao
  • Annabeth wouldn’t let Percy touch Aphrodite’s scarf because she didn’t want him getting infected by love magic but then…touched it herself lol
  • The entire sequence with the mechanical spiders and the cameras and the ride itself 
  • Percy’s plan to get off the ride!!!! He’s so smart okay can people stop calling him stupid!!! 
  • Grover trying to catch them both in mid-air but they‘re too heavy so the three of them just kind of slowly crash into one of those face-cut-out posters lol
  • Percy, turning to the camera’s broadcasting this shit on Olympus: “Show’s over! Thank You! Goodnight!” 
  • THE FUCKING ZOO BUS
  • Everything about that scene omg. The animals they had to help. Trying to convince Grover of how great he is. The baby percabeth. my h e a r t
  • “What if it does line up like the Trojan War? Athena versus Poseidon?”
  • “I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll be fighting next to you.”
  • “Why?”
  • “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain, any more stupid questions?”
  • Do you hear that sound? That’s me, ages 13-21(+) sobbing uncontrollably oh my God I love them so much
  • ‘let’s just set a fucking lion loose in Las Vegas’ 
  • “I put a Blessing of the Wild on them, so they’ll safely find food and shelter wherever they go.”
  • “Why can’t you put on of those on us?”
  • “It only works on wild animals.”
  • “So it would only effect Percy…”
  • “HEY!” 
  • When they get to the Lotus hotel and Grover starts playing that game where the deer shoot the hunters azxjhnhdjx
  • Percy physically having to drag his friends out of there once he realized it was the lair of the lotus eaters
  • When Annabeth gave the taxi driver her lotus credit card and he started calling her “Your Highness” lmao
  • Every time in this book Percy comes close to uncovering a Dark Truth the people around him are just like “let’s not worry about that :) “ and my polite boy actually shuts up it’s so wild because I would just keep going lol
  • CRUSTY THE WATER BED SALESMAN 
  • Listen that entire scene has lowkey always been one of my Favs and I’m not even sure why but Percy chopping his head off was g r e a t
  • The entrance to the Underworld is DOA Recording Studios and I love it
  • “We, uh…all drowned in a bathtub.”
  • Poor Charon just wants his Italian suits he doesn’t need all this bullshit 
  • Grover almost getting dragged into Tartarus: not good. very bad. bad shit. 
  • Annabeth getting emotionally attached to Cerberus in the span of 3 minutes: RELATABLE 
  • ‘huh my backpack that I thought I got rid of five days ago is getting weirdly heavy, that’s not suspicious though, right?’ 
  • When Hades just starts monologue-ing about all the shit he has to put up with
  • “what kind of awful things do you have to do to get sewn into Hades underwear?” p e r c y
  • when Percy realizes the Master Bolt is in his backpack and he’s just like. tell me why. why. I’m a good person. what did I DO. 
  • When Percy has to sacrifice his mom to get Annabeth and Grover out of there I Cri Evey Tiem 
  • My cute lil’ baby yelling around on a beach to get Ares to show up 
  • ahdbsjznx when Grover gives Percy a crushed, half eaten tin can for good like and Percy is just like “Grover…I don’t know what to say.” I LOVE HIM
  • My sweet son kicking the god of war’s ass. bless. blessed on this day. 
  • The news crews who suddenly started backtracking and writing Percy as a hero 
  • Percy, choking back tears, giving Gabe’s store’s phone number out on national television and promising everyone free appliances IM STILL CACKLING I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH HE’S ICONIC 
  • Hades actually releasing Sally because he’s Not As Big Of A Dick As He Could Have Been 
  • Percy: hey I think there’s a really good chance that Kronos was behind this whole mess-
  • Zeus and Poseidon: XXX KRONOS DO NOT INTERACT XXX
  • Poseidon rolling his eyes at literally everything Zeus says and does
  • Poseidon and Percy’s whole talk omg my sweet boy just wants his dad to love him and Poseidon’s trying to figure out how to show affection when he basically signed this kid’s death sentence I’m crying 
  • A man will never satisfy me as much or in the same way as Sally Jackson murdering Gabe Ugliano did 
  • Percy was spending months of summer stressing over who the friend that’s supposed to betray him was but like…Sweetie you had exactly three (3) friends and you knew two of them weren’t gonna hurt you
  • ahbdjsnx when Percy and Luke were having their conversation in the woods and like Luke’s acting shady af the whole time but it’s literally not until he litters that Percy is like “something…is Wrong.” this boy I s2g
  • Percy getting bit by a scorpion is Not A Favorite Moment but the nymphs helping him out was 
  • Percy making his Official Decision to go home for the school year only after Annabeth reveals that he actually did talk her into trying again with her family 
  • I didn’t mean to write out a summary of the whole damn book it’s six am listen I’m just feeling nostalgia for the original series in this chili’s tonight 
  • whoops
There’s My Girl (Tom Holland Imagine)

Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

request: “Would you mind writing an imagine where tom comes home late to find the reader asleep in the office from studying and so he carries the reader up the stairs and they wake up in his arms and it’s just cute and fluffy and leads to cuddling or something?? Thank you so much!!!! Love your writing btw!!” (requested by anon)

short summary: ^^

length: 941 words

warnings: none

A/N: just a quick/short little thing, i was feeling a bit inspired last night tbh sorry it’s shit (also ik i’m doing requests out of order i’m also sorry for that too)


Tom had had a particularly long day, as both of his flights back home had been delayed for several hours each. He was a bit peeved considering how excited he was to see you earlier in the day and take you out for dinner, but those plans came to a halt seeing as it was currently 2:15AM.

Keep reading

Borrowed Time

The series where Harry is mute

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Y/n never went back home. Instead, she spends winter break in the confines of Harry’s apartment—wrapped up in between his bedsheets to keep warm.

The usually cold and brutal winter that always made their skin numb is now warm to them—skin always accompanied by one another’s and feeling more than ever before. And with the mix of never ending company and the feel of the music that always seems to be playing in his apartment, they couldn’t have asked for a better way to start off their relationship.

They never do anything extravagant—never do anything that could take time away from one another. It’s in their simplicity do they find a sense of comfort throughout the festive season. They feel happiest in their own little world—away from everything and everyone, just focusing on them being together without any distractions.

With being so consumed by one another, they’ve learned more about each other than ever before—spending most days watching their favorite movies and baking new recipes they found in Harry’s favorite Christmas cookbook and spending the nights cuddled up against one another as Y/n somehow finds new things to talk about.

Each day, they fall in love with each other all over again. It’s as if their hearts unravel and trap each other in—giving them no means of escape, but neither of them want to.

Whenever she spends the night at his apartment, Harry has to spend nearly an hour each morning just to fight her from getting out of bed. It’s become a routine, Harry having to pull her from the edge of the bed so that he can cradle her back in his arms while she giggles and mumbles some excuses he doesn’t have the energy to listen to.

He just really, really, really loves the feel of her first thing in the morning, especially when the brutal feel of the blistering winds finds its way to his apartment. She’s much warmer than usual and her eyes are brighter and always glistened against the sun. Her lips, too—they are always so much fuller somehow that even in his mild awareness, he finds himself kissing them before he finally lets her slip away from the comfort of the sheets.

But this morning—this morning is different.

After a Christmas night filled with passion and inexperienced intimacy, Harry really doesn’t want to let her go. He’d much rather feel her uncovered body up against his all morning—soaking each other up and holding one another until the sun sets into the night.

It just sounds so right, to keep each other near and close after giving each other their last bit of innocence. Everything they had to offer one another was taken and used to make them whole, so that’s how they should be—together and whole for as long as they possibly can.

But when Harry feels Y/n begin to stir her way out of his arms, he knows she has very different plans.

And he’s just not having it.

He whimpers in his slumbered state, pulling her back against his chest with eyes half-lidded and breathing still steady. He’s holding onto her like never before, refusing to feel her side of the bed empty. He needs her, her, her, anywhere and everywhere as long as it’s with him. And despite having every bit of her last night, he hasn’t gotten enough and he needs her more.

She giggles softly against his neck, gingerly kissing the exposed skin as her fingers run along his jaw. She can already feel him falling back asleep from her touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at their closeness.

“Love, I gotta get up. Y’know me, can’t stay in bed once I’m awake.”

He groans as he shakes his head, somehow filling up the smallest of empty spaces between them and tucking his head into her shoulder. His nose is right up against her skin and he can smell her usual scent—vanilla and lavender from her usual body wash but much more filthy than usual.

She giggles again when she feels his bottom lip poke at her shoulder, her fingers reaching to his hair as she combs through it.

“Oh, none of that, H.” She tisks, thumbing the very exaggerated pout on his lips. “I’ll be right downstairs, won’t be going anywhere far.”

He rolls his body off of her, his back hitting against the mattress with a whine. His eyes remain closed but there’s a very noticeable furrow between his brows, and Y/n begins to wonder what he’s so worried about.

She frowns down at him, observing the rise of his goosebumps from the morning cold on his bare chest. It looks empty and lifeless without her head upon it, and though his body is no stranger to her, there’s something about it that seems much more inviting and she yearns to keep it closer than ever.

And she gets it—she gets his exaggerated whining and the worry in his eyes. After everything that happened to them the night before, he can’t leave her—he can't—and that’s exactly what she’s doing to him, even if it’s only a floor away.

Almost as if to reassure him, she goes with the feel of her heart and decides to spend the next couple hours of the freezing morning right beside him.


Harry loves watching Y/n in her most natural hours.

Her chest and elbows are leaning against the surface of the kitchen counter, one hand holding a mug of coffee while the other flips the pages of her favorite poetry book. Her upper body is clad with Harry’s favorite sweatshirt—ending right at the end of her underwear—leaving her legs exposed and on full display for all of Harry to see.

Despite her hair fully knotted and having an overall disheveled look to her, Harry decides that she looks best this way—in a way nobody other than him has gotten the chance to see—as if she was made for his eyes only.

And he has never seen such a beautiful sight in his life as she looks at him with the softest and most delicate of eyes, a small smile resting on her lips at his presence. Every bit of her looks inviting—like a place of comfort Harry could forever shield himself in.

She’s become so much more than his girlfriend—so much more than someone to call his own—she’s become his muse and his home, his haven and everything in between.

“You always look at me with longing even when I’m right here with you.”

He blinks at her, watching as her cheeks flush with pink under the watch of his amused eyes, loving how easily tranced he becomes in her.

She’s never been confident in herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she used her friendliness to somehow distract people from what she truly felt on the inside. She never truly touched base with her insecurities and never wanted to, so she always found ways to push the most damaging thoughts in the back of her head.

But Harry changed everything. He made her feel beautiful and loved in every way possible, she almost doesn’t understand how he could have so much of that love in him—especially for her. From the way he holds her all throughout the night to the small kisses and gestures whenever he has the chance, she feels it everywhere and she almost feels it in herself.

His sheepish smile confirms her statement, knowing fully that there will never be a moment he doesn’t want her, no matter where she is.

He walks slowly over to her, the smile never fading from his lips and the blush creeping back to Y/n’s cheeks as she turns her body to stretch her arms out at him. It’s the smallest moments like this that make them grateful for the kind of love they share—together.

He presses his lips to hers tenderly when he feels her fingers run across his stomach, his own fingers pushing the material of his sweatshirt up towards her breasts so that he can brush against the swell of them.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, quickly returning back to her lips as they softly release a whimper from the detachment.

She tastes so good—a mix of bitter and sweet from her coffee, leaving his mouth wanting more and more with each passing second. And what was supposed to be innocent turned to lust before they knew it—their movements much more haste and impatient.

In the midst of their desperation, Harry pushes her hips further against the edge of the counter, fingers digging into her skin as his mouth parts open with hers. They both moan into one another, completely consumed by the feeling of their relentless hands and feverish kisses.

Her hands are against his stomach, rubbing along his torso when he hitches her legs around his waist, leaving Harry in control of whatever it is that’s unfolding. Her squeal turns into a moan when his hips collide with hers, the friction making her head spin and body yearn for more.

He feels her hands creep toward the waistband of his sweatpants while his hands bundle up the sweatshirt over her breasts so that they’re fully exposed to him—revealing the most delicate parts of her.

And right as his lips attach to the valley of them, the ringing of the telephone breaks them from their moment.

“H—Harry, the phone.” Y/n gasps.

But he shows no sign of stopping when his teeth sink into an already bruised hickie from the night before, leaving her with shaking fingers between his hair and withering from the soreness. And he really can’t stop, because she feels like no other and she’s so addicting in every way possible. He wants her all to himself.

The answering machine almost dissolves into pure background noise for the both of them, too caught up in the moment.

“Hi, Harry, it’s your mum.”

Only five words and Harry feels the air being knocked right out of his lungs—seizing all his movements and thoughts as Y/n is left completely confused and panting upon the kitchen counter.

"I know it’s been a while and a lot has ended quite messy, but your father does miss you and well—we all miss you, Harry. We would really love for you to come over for dinner tonight as a late Christmas celebration. You don’t have to, but we’ll have an extra seat for you. And—uh—I love you so much. I wish you the best. Please call me soon.”

It’s as if the world around him is spinning faster than ever before—his brain overwhelmed with scrambled thoughts and ears ringing from the anxiety.

There would have been nothing to prepare him for this moment. He never thought he’d ever see his father again—much less be invited back over to his house after everything that’s happened. It’s been so long, he genuinely thought it was over—he thought all of the pain and fear was over, but his biggest nightmare is coming to life and he feels sick to his stomach.

His father is why he’s like this—mute and anxious in social situations. If his dad hadn’t repeatedly torn him down for never being good enough—hadn’t made him believe nobody would ever talk to a little shy boy—he would have probably gained the confidence to speak the more he matured.

But because his father shunned him for being shy and never making any friends, Harry was terrified of what people would think of him if he ever did make friends. Because if his own father didn’t love him, how could anybody else?

Y/n notices the tears in his eyes and his shallow breathing, which she’s quick to mend when her hands reach up to his cheeks. They’re hot and flushed, but all for the wrong reasons.

She frowns, lips peppering small kisses along his face in an attempt to bring him back to her. She doesn’t know much—or really anything—about Harry’s family life; all she knows is that she has never seen a picture of them in his house or any validation that he ever truly had one.

But as she catches the glimpse of fear in his eyes and the small quivering of his lips, he knows very well that there must have been something that went wrong. And even if she doesn’t know what it is that he went through, she knows that if he decides to do this or not, she’ll be right there with him.

“You’re scared.” She whispers, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks softly. “What is it you’re afraid of, baby? Talk to me, please.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pursing together as loose tears fall from his eyes.

He’s never talked about his family problems and because all of this has happened so quickly, his words get trapped in his throat. To genuinely talk about his family and come to terms with his emotions seems all too much for him, especially when it’s hard for him to speak in the first place.

Y/n clicks her tongue while shaking her head softly, wrapping her around his neck as he nests his cheek into her shoulder. His muscles instantly relax in her arms and has a sense of clarity in her comfort, but there’s still an undeniable thumping in his chest that just can’t seem to go away.

“You don’t have to talk about this, love, but maybe this will be good for you. You know, to test the waters with your family. Maybe this could help you in the long run.”

And he wants to believe her—he really, really fucking wants to believe her—but he knows he can’t. Anywhere in his father’s path is detrimental to Harry’s social anxiety and he knows it’ll only make this worse for him in the long run.

“Y/n.” Harry groans, detaching her arms from his neck so that he can stand properly. His teeth are grit and eyes are distant—looking anywhere but her own and he swallows thickly around his words. “There’s a reason I don’t talk to anybody.”

His words are cracked and desperate—like a plea for Y/n to understand that this is different, that there will never be a day he’ll be able to face his problems. There have been too many times he’s found his way back and he always walks away with a damaged heart.

Y/n watches the way his fingers fiddle around one another and how he can’t stand still, it’s like watching the battle in Harry’s head and watching him fall apart from it.

And no matter how much she loves him now—the way he is now, even without much speaking—she doesn’t want to watch him suffer for the rest of his life. He’s the most undeserving man, he deserves the world and she knows he does.

His heart is nothing but pure and damaged—in need of mending and love. It’s the best part of him, really. It’s what brought them together and she feels the need to protect it at all costs.

He doesn’t feel it, though. He doesn’t feel what his heart has to offer and doesn’t see how it makes him so strong. He only sees himself as a ruin—a lost cause with nothing left to fight for, and he doesn’t deserve it. After what he’s been through, she needs him to understand that he is so much more than he thinks he is.

Because he is—he really is—no matter what he believes.

She holds his head in her hands to distract him from his consuming thoughts. His eyes shift in her gaze as he lets out a small breath.

“I just think it’ll be best to try again. I know—I see how hard it is for you to live the way that you do and I want to be here for you through everything. Things could be different this time—things could actually end well and you might be able to push through this. Because I know you, Harry, more than anybody else right now and I know you can push through this.”

She presses her forehead against his with a sigh leaving her lips, her thumbs running along his knuckles.

“And if there is any point you feel uncomfortable or upset, we can walk right out and leave. Just know that I will be there for you no matter what, okay? Just asking for you to try.”

It’s because she sounds so sure of herself that Harry actually agrees to go to the dinner. He knows that if it were a matter of him going alone, he would never even consider it. But knowing she is going to be right by his side—holding his hand through it all—maybe he doesn’t have to be so scared.

Maybe, it’ll actually be different this time.


It’s not different.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s really not any different than he expected it to be.

Upon their arrival, Harry’s mum and sister nearly fainted from seeing him at the front door. They thought their invitation would go dismissed, like the way Harry’s ignored them for the past three years. But looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever, they were nothing short of thrilled.

And to make it even better, he brought a girl. Harry was holding her hand tightly, keeping her tucked right into his side so that he could feel her with every step he took.

Anne and Gemma swore they had never seen something so heartwarming in their life—to the point where tears sprung from their eyes and arms flinging around their bodies. Y/n didn’t even have to introduce herself properly for them to love and approve of her, anybody who gets Harry to open up—in any way possible—is enough for them.

He was calm when it was just the four of them, Harry watching Y/n hit it off with his family so effortlessly. He noticed the fondness in all their eyes and this was how he wanted it to be forever.

But once they sat down for dinner, Harry knew something was about to happen.

His father didn’t acknowledge neither him nor Y/n in the slightest. Instead, he acted as if they weren’t there and only carried conversations with the rest of his family. And Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not—wasn’t sure if he’d rather have his father at least notice him and hate him or have his father neglect him.

Y/n was trying to make the best out of the situation and he could tell. She found her way to the conversations even if his father didn’t respond to her, and still remained her perky self while doing so. She seemed unfazed through it all, almost like she didn’t feel the overwhelming amount of tension that surrounded the room.

She does it for him, though. She knew that if she showed just how uncomfortable his father was making her—he’d never be able to survive this dinner. She had to play strong enough for his sake.

But now that dinner has passed by and all that’s left are empty plates of food and mindless mingling, Harry feels nothing short of uncomfortable and misplaced under his father’s glare. It’s as if he’s waiting for Harry to speak out in the conversation, or do much of anything to make his presence known.

Y/n can see the soft shaking of Harry’s head and can feel the sweat on his palms with each passing second—just waiting for the end of the night so that they can go home and be alone at last.

“You know, Y/n, I never thought Harry would have a girlfriend.”

It’s the first time tonight his father spoke to Y/n directly, making the conversation she was having with Gemma come to a pause as she looked over at him with confusion. There’s a small pout on her lips as she tilts her head in question, almost unsure as to what he was implying. He has no expression on his face, only a small scoff and disapproving look in his eyes.

“How so? He’s lovely, any girl would be very lucky to have him. I’m just happy it’s me who does.”

Her fingers squeeze his thigh under the tablecloth; as if to tell him that there’s nothing to worry about. If his father wants to try hard enough to get to Harry, he has to try to get through her, first.

His father grumbles, his eyes shifting away from hers. The tenseness is his body seems to lighten, though, when an almost sadistic laugh falls from his lips—finding whatever he’s thinking quite amusing and entertaining.

“Isn’t it disheartening? Doesn’t it get boring, to be with a little boy who can’t even get his mouth to open? You seem to be a very intelligent, mature lady—I can tell by the way you talk. Don’t you think it’s a man’s purpose to be with somebody like you?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying to silence the sudden voices in his head and focus on the feel of Y/n’s tightening hand.

All the childhood fights, all the times Harry had crawled underneath his bed during the night to get away from it all, and all the times Harry almost had the guts to speak up for himself only to be shut down from his father are all replaying in Harry’s head.

The anxiety creeps to his bones and in his muscles, straining him of all that’s left of his strength and leaving him with nothing but a shaking body and lack of control. Every part of him that felt alive before all of this is slowly dying at the seems—ready to be ripped out on his father’s account.

In any other situation, Y/n would have kept her mouth shut if it meant getting the support and approval of Harry’s family. But this—the way he’s talking about Harry as if he’s not right next to her, disrespecting him for something beyond his control is just not okay with her.

She’d rather stand up for the man she loves and believes in instead of watching him suffer in silence—the way his mum and sister are—with fear.

“Harry may not be a man of many words, but he’s the best thing I’ve got. There is so much more to him than his voice. There is so much more to him than you will ever know because you decided to be a shit father and give up on him without giving him a chance. He holds so much more potential than you could ever see, and that’s what’s wrong here. Harry’s not the problem, him being mute is not the problem, it’s you. Because why is it that everybody else can accept him and love him for who he is besides you?!”

The aftermath of her words silences everything around them. Nobody moves, nobody dares makes a sound besides their harsh breathing, because there could be something that makes either one of them snap and nobody wants to be the one to do so.

Y/n’s hands are in fists upon the table, eyes locked with his in fury and jaw so tight she almost doesn’t even look like herself. She’s turned into an entirely different woman with just the thought of Harry getting into harm’s way.

And although Harry really wants to show her appreciation for her words, he’s too panicked that he’s going to die from not being able to fucking breathe.

The silence is overwhelming, but Y/n is not giving up on him—on Harry. He had to live through this for far too long and she’s not allowing it anymore. He deserves better than this treatment—deserves better than to be looked down upon by somebody who’s supposed to be his provider.

“He’s the best thing you’ve got, yeah?”

His father is playing with his bottom lip, eyes narrowed and eyes in the same unpleasant manner as before. His voice is softer, though, more understanding than before and they both don’t know what to expect out of the conversation.

Y/n nods without hesitation, “He is.”

He watches as Y/n looks more determined and positive as ever, not a doubt or a trace of a lie in her features.

She means it—with her whole heart—she means it and she’ll never let anybody make her go back on her word. And she doesn’t have to say it twice, because Harry knows she’s genuine when she says it.

“You must have a very pathetic life, then.”

Harry’s eyes don’t move from their trance on the table—his body doesn’t make a move under his words. This is just how it always ends, and he just don’t know why he still fucking comes back here every goddamn time.

His throat is tight and his eyes are filled with tears. His skin is full of sweat and he swears his heart is beating much faster than it should. And even though he’s experienced this all before, knowing Y/n is being belittled by his father too makes it worse.

"We’re done here.” Y/n says sternly, grabbing ahold of Harry’s hand.

Y/n could have stood up for Harry much more, but she knew that if she started an even bigger brawl than what was already unfolding, Harry wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He’s already drained of color and crying silently within his lost mind, and she’s absolutely terrified for his health.

She’s nearly dragging him out the door, Harry occasionally tripping over his own feet as he’s being drowned with the voices and the thumping in his chest. The world around him seems to be drowning and he can’t keep up with it all.

He just can’t.

“You can’t only keep her around because she’s the only one that’ll fight your battles for you, Harry! It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that you have nothing to offer her! You can’t give her anything with the way you are. You’re worthless!”

Before he could spew any more insults in Harry’s way, Y/n shuts the door in his face.


Harry knows his father was right.

In the long run, he doesn’t have much to offer her. He can’t be the boyfriend that she deserves to have.

He can’t be the boyfriend that can remind her of how much she’s loved or cared for. He can’t be the boyfriend to sing her to sleep whenever she can’t, or be the boyfriend to say his vows at their wedding for all to hear. He can’t be the boyfriend that—God forbid something were to happen to her—can ask for somebody to help her, or be the boyfriend to sway her family’s heart.

He can’t be anything to her besides somebody that she can sleep with at night and wake up to in the morning. Because that’s all it will be, and she’ll get so tired of being the one to be the only one talking to the other.

He’s nothing in her life, and that’s exactly why he can’t look at her anymore.

“Can you please just say something to me, Harry? I need to know why you’re upset with me or else we can never work through this.”

But how can they work through this when he can’t talk to her the way she wants him to?

Instead of answering right away, Harry presses on the gas pedal even harder than before. In the mix of all his emotions—anger, frustration, sad, and absolutely terrified—the only proper thought that can retain in Harry’s mind is dropping Y/n back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to keep torturing herself with him.

The longer he feels her presence next to him, the more he realizes that he can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved—even if he really, really, really does love her with every ounce of his being.

“It was only—“ He swallows thickly, “It was only a matter of time before this was going to happen, Y/n.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns her head over to Harry, who has his lips pursed in a straight line while his eyes remain on the road.

There’s something different in him, now—something unreadable in his expressions and it’s something she’s never seen before. He seems broken somehow, like a man who’s been damaged one too many times that he’s become numb—emotionless with nothing left to feel.

“Before what was going to happen, Harry?”

She has an idea about what his words meant, but she doesn’t want to believe it. Not coming from him—not coming from the man who’s shown her nothing but how much love he has for her. There’s no way he could be doing this to her. He can’t do this to her.

“We were never going to last, Y/n. This was over long ago, we’re just on borrowed time.”

Borrowed time.

The sound of it leaves an unusually disturbing churn in Y/n’s stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. She feels as though Harry is taking his own hand and digging into Y/n’s chest, just so that he can grab ahold of Y/n’s heart and rip it to shreds himself.

Her hand subconsciously grabs onto the handle of the car door, eyes glistening with tears and lungs not daring to breathe. The air—instead of it being filled with their love—is now thicker and colder than ever.

She’s never been so confused—so lead on and so scared as to what is happening to them. They were supposed to make this last, they were supposed to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. He promised her he would, too—promised her nothing but love and trust in him.

But what is happening to them?

“How long have you thought that?”

She was tentative to ask, but she just has to know. She has to know if she’s done everything she’s done for nothing or if it actually held some sort of purpose at the time.

She’s terrified beyond words to find out the answer.

“Before or after you decided to sleep with me?”

Harry doesn’t want to make it seem like he never wanted this—never wanted her. He doesn’t want to make her think that he went through all that he did with her just to expect them to break up so soon. Because he didn’t, he never did. He would have never let her give him her virginity if he knew all of this was going to happen.

He loves her too much to do that to her, but also loves her enough to set her free.

So he decides to not answer her because not saying anything at all is easier for him than saying something he doesn’t mean. And he knows he will if it means letting her go and letting her move onto bigger and better things.

And it’s in his silence and twitch of his eyes does she find his answer.

“So you didn’t mean what you said last night. That we fit perfectly—that it’s like we’re meant to be? Or were they just words to you?”

A sob rips from inside of her when he still gives her nothing. She has never felt so hurt before—has never felt so betrayed. And suddenly, her skin feels dirty—sickened by what he’s done to her and how she could have been so stupid as to let it happen.

She feels it now, too. She feels the way his hands touched her that night, the way his lips kissed her that night, the way his hips rutted against hers and she feels so fucking filthy—used and used and used just for his own personal gain.

“Stop the car.”

It’s a weak demand, but Harry is pained to hear it. He has to hold himself back from comforting her and saying how terribly sorry he is for lying to her the way he is. But it’s just easier this way.

“I said stop the fucking car, Harry!”

Her yelling makes him flinch, and without hesitation makes him pull over to the side of the road. And the second he does so, he knows he shouldn’t have because he’d never be able to live with himself if he let Y/n walk in the cold alone, especially at night.

And right as he’s about to turn back, the sound of her hysteria makes his stop everything he’s doing. Her sobs are relentless in her hands and the thickest of tears fall from Harry’s eyes when he looks at the damage he’s done.

She looks helpless and utterly destroyed—he would have never thought of doing this to her if he’d known this is what would come out of it.

His heart is breaking at the sight of her like this.

As if on instinct, Harry reaches his hand over to her shoulder in an attempt to keep her calm. And even when they’re so close, they have never felt more emotionally distant than they do right now.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

She isn’t sure if she means it or not, but the devastating look Harry gives her at her words proves that he knows she did.

The second his touch leaves hers, he feels them falling apart.

It really is over now.

She’s never felt more pathetic and humiliated in her life. Everything she thought was so real ended up being one of the biggest lies she’s ever lived. He had her fooled for months now and she had not a single clue—but she guesses that’s what happens when she falls in love too quickly.

She feels easy.

She swallows her cries as she opens the car door, not knowing where the hell she is or where the hell she’s going, but knowing that no matter where she ends up, it’ll be much better than being with him. 

“I hate you. I never want to see you again, not after this. Not after all that you’ve done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, mouth falling open and a gasp falling from his lips. The reality of her words hits him with so much force that he genuinely feels every last bit of him fall apart.

And it’s when she walks away from him—from his life—that he breaks.

He chokes out a sob as his fingers grip the steering wheel, eyes as wide as ever and mouth not daring to shut.

Everything hurts. Every bone in his body feels like it’s breaking and every muscle feels like they’re tearing apart. It hurts so fucking much and Harry can’t stop crying, throwing his head back against the car seat as his hand hits the steering wheel in the midst of his hysteria.

She hates him.

But it’s better this way.

Bts reaction to you riding them for a first time | Hyung-Line

 Hi guys admin Sunshine is here. I’m so sorry if this reaction took so long, lately I’ve been feeling so down I just don’t want to do anything. I’ve been going through lots of things and I’m sorry if my reactions are not good enough. I always welcome some anons you know, I kinda need to know what you guys think about my reactions. And maknae-line will be coming soon, sorry about the long-ass reaction though! Anyways I love you guys and thanks for the support, it really means alot to me. xoxo <3

Important Note; This reaction is pure smut.

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andallwaswell-ish  asked:

Seamus and Harry are a couple. Draco really doesn't like that. (fanon) Pansy is just the person he needs

“Quick, Pansy, kiss me.”

Pansy stares at Draco, her face screwed up at the absurd suggestion. There are so many things wrong with that statement. First, ew, she is not nearly drunk enough. Second, she doesn’t like to be rushed. And third, most importantly, nobody tells Pansy what to do.

“I will do no such thing. Why would you – “ her eyes scan the Gryffindor common room, following Draco’s gaze, and fall on Harry Potter sitting on Seamus Finnigan’s lap – “Oh, I see now.” She sighs loudly, accepting her duty as best friend, but also making sure Draco knows just how unappealing she finds the idea. “Fine.”

The kiss is brief and methodical and, all in all, incredibly disagreeable. Pansy only hopes that Potter glances their way to see it so it isn’t all in vain. As soon as her mouth is her own again, Pansy downs the rest of her firewhiskey.  “Never, ever, make me do that to your chapped lips again.”

“Sorry,” Draco says, looking past Pansy – she’ll forgive his inattentiveness this once, “It’s just –

“You needed to make Potter jealous?”

“Yes and –“ Draco pauses, and his eyes finally land on Pansy. About time. “How did you know it was Potter?

Pansy snorts. Draco really is an idiot sometimes. “Well you hardly have a crush on Finnigan do you? And Blaise told me sometimes you say his name while – “

“I’ll have a word with Blaise later,” Draco says quickly, a small blush appearing on his face – that he would certainly deny if Pansy were to mention. “Now hold my hand, make it look like we’re an established couple. I don’t want Potter thinking I’m easy.  If you put your arm – “

Draco’s voice falters, his gaze back on Potter. Pansy turns to witness Potter and Finnigan locking lips in a rather exaggerated fashion. It’s not romantic or erotic. It’s just a kiss. The two must have zero chemistry, much like Pansy and Draco.

“Although, clearly, Potter is very easy.” Draco puts on his cold, taunting voice but his own jealously is obvious.

Pansy rolls her eyes. Sometimes dealing with Draco is like dealing with a small child. She moves beside him and wraps an arm around his waist so they can stare at Potter and his current boy toy together. The two have stopped kissing and are now drawing patterns on each other’s hands. Gryffindors, honestly. “Would you look at that, Draco dear? They’re holding hands. They must be an established couple as well.”

“Do you really think so? Finnigan doesn’t seem like Potter’s type at all. And I’ve never seen them alone together before. I would have noticed it if – “

“How about we go over and find out?” Pansy shoves Draco hard and is pleased when he stumbles forward. She enjoys catching him off guard.

“Wait – Pansy, no.” Draco tries to protest but it’s too late. Potter has spotted them. He extracts himself from Finnigan and stands up to greet them, a hand running through his hair. Pansy has to hold back a smirk – she knows Draco loves when Potter does that. Not that he’s ever said anything. He doesn’t have to.

“Malfoy. Parkinson,” Potter says without even glancing at Pansy. Typical. And predictable.

Finnigan stands up beside Potter. Draco – what a surprise! – ignores this. “Potter.”

“Finnigan,” Pansy adds, only to annoy Draco. He gives her a reproachful side eye before returning his gaze to Potter. She suspects it’s the last time he’ll glance her way tonight.

They all stand there in silence. Potter staring intently at Draco. Draco staring intently at Potter. And Finnigan sharing a knowing look with Pansy. At least he’s not as stupid as he looks then.

Finally, Potter speaks up. “I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”

“I never miss a party…even if it is hosted by Gryffindors.”

It’s not true. Draco has missed several parties over the years. But at this stage, Pansy doesn’t think Potter or Draco would even notice if she spoke so she keeps her mouth shut.

“Might be time for a Slytherin party next,” Potter says.

Draco is clearly holding back a smile. Pansy bets he is creaming his bloody pants at getting to have an actual conversation with Potter. “We get a little wild in the dungeons.” They don’t. “Are you sure you could handle it, Potter?

“I think I could rise to the challenge.”

“Subtle,” Pansy whispers to Finnigan. Honestly, Potter’s clearly got it as bad as Draco. It’s embarrassing to watch this train wreck unfold.

“So, Finnigan, that’s new.” Draco doesn’t even acknowledge that the person in question is still by Potter’s side. Finnigan shoots Pansy an amused look at being blatantly ignored. Things are clearly not serious with Potter.

“Very. And Parkinson?”

“I’m right here you know?” Pansy interjects, unable to hold back. But it makes no difference anyway. Only Finnigan hears her.

“It’s been a while,” Draco lies. Pansy wants to smack him around the head. Sure, she is happy to help make Potter jealous but there’s no need to exaggerate.

“Really? I always thought you were just friends?”

“Yes, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”’

“Like how he calls out your name every night in bed,” Pansy mutters underneath her breath. Finnigan, at least, catches and appreciates the jab if no one else does.

“Of course. Sorry Malfoy, I didn’t mean to question you. I’m just having a hard time grasping you and Parkinson together. I thought you were…you know.” Potter trails off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Pansy holds back a groan. It’s like listening to children with these two.

“Gay? Like you?”

“Actually, I’m bisexual,” Potter corrects. “But yeah.”

“Finnigan doesn’t seem like your type.”

Finnigan flips a half-hearted bird at Draco. Not that he notices.

“And Parkinson doesn’t seem like yours.”

“Because I’m out of his league,” Pansy points out, flipping her own violent bird at Potter. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering standing here anymore.

Draco takes a step forward. “So, what’s my type then, Potter?”

Potter mimics Draco’s action so that they’re almost chest to chest – Really? “What’s mine?”

“You need someone who doesn’t hero worship you, someone who will hold you accountable for all your actions, someone who isn’t afraid of your temper. You need someone who challenges you.”

Pansy shares a confused look with Finnigan – did they rehearse this or something? Draco’s not usually this smooth with his words, especially with Potter in such close proximity.

“And you need someone who understands your vulnerability but doesn’t use it against you, someone who treats you gently, someone whose affection is unwavering. You need someone who forgives you.”

They must have rehearsed this. Pansy has never heard Potter say anything remotely intelligent before. And she hasn’t known him to be particularly observant either.

“And I suppose you could never forgive me after all that I’ve done?” Draco hits back, still just as smooth. This is getting ridiculous.

“I already have,” Potter responds immediately as if reading a line from a script. From a terrible cheesy muggle romance movie that Pansy would never be caught dead watching. Yet here she is witnessing this sappy display.

“What about Finnigan?”

“I was using him to make you jealous,” Potter admits. Pansy looks to Finnigan for confirmation – he winks. “Did it work?”

Despite using the exact same trick himself, Pansy can see Draco is outraged at being manipulated. “Fuck you, Potter.”

“You wish.”

And then they’re kissing. Enthusiastically. Way too close to Pansy’s face. She can see every stray strand of saliva, hear every lubricated slide of their mouths. It’s revolting. And worse still, they’ve become the centre of the attention at the party, eyes drawn to Draco and Potter’s embrace with Pansy and Finnigan standing by awkwardly, looking like dejected fools.

Pansy could spoil it by pinching the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck in vengeance for being ignored. Luckily, she’s feeling particularly generous tonight, and she’d never admit it, but seeing Draco with Potter is sweet. In a disgusting, horrible, sappy way of course. But still, sweet. Now she just has to focus on her own happy ending. She spies Hermione Granger’s amongst the watchful eyes around them and takes her moment:

“Quick, Finnigan, kiss me.”

Our Little Secret - Part Twelve

Summary: It’s your first hunt back from your injury. Dean thinks he has a way to help you through the soreness

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Kink(s): Wax Play

Word Count: 5000

Warnings: Smut, language, wax, angst

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m really loving these character and this series. Thank you for your wonderful responses. A special thank you to the people who looked this over for me.

This is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own

***THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

“Your turn,” Dean hands you the shovel, “I dug the last one.”

“Oh come on Dean,” Sam protests, “she’s had more than a month off, she-”

“She’s standing right here,” you look pointedly at Sam, taking the shovel from Dean, “I got this, you boys just stand there and look pretty.”

Sam rolls his eyes, Dean chuckles, “Do you remember how to do this sweetheart, it’s been awhile.”

“Shut up, even rusty I can dig a grave twice as fast as you,” you can’t help but smile, pushing the point into the ground, taking out the first shovel full of dirt.

“Do you want me to time you?”

You flip him off, continuing to dig as they talk for a bit, discussing the corpse that in a matter of time you will be salting and burning. After about ten inches, another shovel hits the hard ground a few feet from yours and you look up to see Dean there, “You were moving too slow.”

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