bring back the tap

“Two Weeks”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: A narrative that explores how Steve copes after your tragic death.

notes: implied character death (reader), a failed attempt at writing sad things

A/N: thank you to @buckyywiththegoodhair​ for beta-reading this mess. i adore you, and god rest this old bitch’s soul.

One week has passed since you left New York for a month-long guest curatorship in Germany. Before leaving, you kissed Steve goodbye and promised to return in one piece.

One week has passed since HYDRA agents infiltrated the museum. They put the entire museum on lockdown, claiming it had World War II documents that were essential to the HYDRA agenda. Even the Avengers wouldn’t stop their mission to obtain these documents, they declared.

One week has passed since a certain HYDRA agent recognized your face from a tabloid, the headline screaming “Captain America Finally Finds Love!” He also deduced your title as one of the United States’ leading experts on Nazi Germany. It was the perfect coincidence.

One week has passed since HYDRA attempted to use you as a bargaining tool. “Give up the documents, and we’ll let you go back to your precious boyfriend,” they said. Much to their surprise, behind your simple dress and ballet flats was a woman not afraid to kick men in the balls, both figuratively and literally. You proceeded to do the latter.

One week has passed since the Avengers compromised the guards and rescued most of the hostages at the museum. Only one remained, but when it became clear that they’re wouldn’t gain access to any of the documents, HYDRA decided to inflict pain in the best way they knew how - by taking away the remaining innocent life.

One week has passed since your tragic death.
One week has passed since Steve Rogers buried the love of his life.

Keep reading

Choose and keep the right people in your life. Associate with people who you want to be like. You’re not going to imitate them, you will learn from them, grow and discover your true voice. Because these kind of people will bring cheerfulness, they will motivate you and tap your back to remind you that you’re on the right track. Creating a positive environment around you attracts success and it makes your vision clearer. It also creates a healing space that fosters growth that opens door for opportunity. Everything will become lighter because positivity brings happiness. So, never waste a space in your life for a negative vibe.
—  E.J. Cenita
day one

It’s almost two in the morning when they hear the lock turn upstairs. Will is immediately awake — says, “Mom?” in a sleepy voice that makes him sound eight years old again.

“Stay here,” Mulder says, and he grabs a flashlight and takes the stairs two at a time, each step creaking under his feet—

And it’s Scully. She’s dusty and tear-streaked and covered in dried blood — not hers, he tells himself, not hers — but she’s here and whole and Mulder hadn’t realized how afraid he’d been until he pulls her into his arms and finally breathes again.

“God,” he says, “Scully…”

And then she’s sobbing and he finds that he’s the only thing holding her up.

There are a thousand question he needs to ask, but he buries them deep and holds her so close that his body shakes with every tremor of hers.

“Will’s downstairs,” he says into her hair, and he feels her nod.

“I don’t want to scare him.” She pulls back enough that he can see her better. She would scare Will, Mulder realizes. There are scrapes on her cheek still slowly oozing blood, and she’s covered in dirt and dust and other things that don’t bear thinking about.

He says, “Is the tap water safe?”

Her breathing evens out, and she goes from desperate to emotionless in a millisecond. The set of her mouth is grim. “It’s well water. Safe as anything.”

That’s not entirely reassuring, but he goes to the kitchen sink anyway, dampens a dish towel. Scully just stands in the doorway staring blankly into the middle distance until he comes back to her. Gently he takes her coat off her shoulders, leaves it in a pile in the corner. “I’m guessing this isn’t going to the dry cleaners,” he says, and Scully doesn’t laugh.

Then he takes the towel and starts to clean her face. “Mulder…” she protests weakly, but after a moment she leans into his touch.

He brushes away the dirt and caked-on grime, then dabs gently around the small cuts on her cheek. Every few minutes he cleans the towel off under the tap, then brings it back to her again until her face, at least, is clean. “You’re okay,” he says quietly, like he’s willing it to be true.

“I should go see him,” Scully says. “Then I’ll deal with…the rest of this.” She motions to her hair and clothes, then heads down to the basement.

He hears Will’s voice, groggy but relieved, and Scully reassuring him. It’s not long before she comes back upstairs.

“He’s asleep,” she says. And as tired as Mulder is, Scully looks like she’s going to pass out standing up.

“Come on.” He takes her hand and leads her upstairs to the bathroom, where he starts the shower running and leaves the lights off. He undresses her, slowly, ruined scrubs and undergarments piling up on the tile floor.

He steps into the shower with her, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her under the spray. The water is lukewarm - whatever was left in the tank after the electricity went out, he figures. She closes her eyes and the evidence swirls down the drain, the dirt and the blood and a few streaks of mascara that still clung to her eyelashes, even after everything. He works shampoo through her hair, scrubbing her scalp until she sighs.

“You have to turn that light off,” she says quietly. The water rushes over her closed eyelids. “It’s the only light on for miles. I don’t want — it’s not a good idea to advertise that we’re here. You shouldn’t have left it on for me. You didn’t even know—”

He interrupts her. Those aren’t words he is willing to hear. “I knew you were coming home.” Because of course, of course he did; there’s no world without her in it.

Scully is cut and bruised but all of it is minor, surface wounds that will heal in a day or two. All the visible wounds, at least. He’s careful, rinsing the dirt out of one deeper gash on her hip. Scully grits her teeth and never complains, and that might be the one normal thing that’s happened today.

“Is it safe for us to stay here?” he asks, taking one last pass over her forearms before he turns the water off.

In the sudden cold, she wraps her arms around herself and shudders. “It’s not safe anywhere. Mulder, I have to — I have to find my mother. And Matt. I was looking at the e-mail he sent, he should be somewhere in — maybe Missouri — but Bill won’t know where to look for him, and we—”

“Shhh,” Mulder says, because he doesn’t know how to tell her that Bill and her mother are probably dead; that Matthew might be alive but they’ll have no way to find him. Those are problems for tomorrow.

He pulls her to him again and she presses her face against his chest. Water drips from the faucet — another project he thought he’d get around to eventually — and echoes off the tile. “You’re alive,” he says, his voice breaking, and she’s shivering in his arms and when she looks up at him he expects to see some of his own fucking overwhelming gratitude reflected back at him, but her eyes are cold.

She says low, “We might live long enough to regret that.” And it’s the first time Mulder has ever truly believed in prophecy.

Nightingale (Part 2) [Slade’s Daughter!Reader x Damian Wayne]


Damian slashed the dummy before him in two; grunting and panting as he jabbed his sword through its head before kicking it back, sending it flying into the wall as he instantly unleashed his rage onto the next dummy. He’d been training for hours since he’d woken earlier around three that morning, somewhat suggestive dreams waking him in a frenzy and forcing him to stay awake to wash his sheets.

He’d been in this state for two days; panicking and practicing extra due to his recent decline in combat whenever he was on patrol with Bruce, and frustration overtaking him because of this.

He cursed under his breath in his mother tongue, something along the lines of “Fuck” in Arabic, one hand gripping his forehead as his other hand plunged his sword through the dummy’s chest. He was planning to pull the sword from the dummy’s chest and use it to slice off its foam head, but he stopped. His eyes were fixed on the dummy’s head as his mind blanked; pausing and closing his eyes as he stood quietly.

Sparkling (Y/E/C) eyes plagued his memories; the thought of pink, plump, soft lips numbing him as every fiber of his being tried to shake the thoughts. That girl. That girl from the warehouse, with her flaming fists and big (Y/E/C) eyes, her warm (Y/S/C) complexion and petite frame, the messy wisps of (Y/H/C) hair that fell on her face, the rest of her hair loosely collected into long braid that swayed as she fought…

He realized how long he’d been standing there thinking about you, grunting in frustration before pulling his sword from the dummy’s chest to then plunge it through the dummy’s head.

It had been two days since you’d kissed him, two days that you’d been unconscious in the bat infirmary, and two days since his thinking was clear and coherent…

“Stupid harlot and her dumb promiscuous approach” He muttered out as he pulled his sword from the dummy’s head.

“Mind still fixed on the girl?” A mocking voice he recognized as Dick said from the corner of the training room.

Damian whipped around to see Dick, Jason and Tim standing not far behind him in the training room, face burning as he realized he’d been heard.

“Perhaps that’s the reason your sheets are in the washer?” Jason mocked before having a laughing fit.

“THEY WERE DIRTY! THEY- THEY HADN’T BEEN WASHED IN AWHILE… THAT’S ALL!” he protested in rage, his face brighter that the color red itself.

“Not as dirty as your thoughts recently…” Tim managed to choke out between hysterical laughter joining in.

“Enough! All three of you had the same problem when you were Damian’s age. He’s seventeen; he’s already going through enough without you three pouncing on him.” A stern voice said as Damian jumped back to realize his father had joined in.

With his face still red he looked down; slapping his hand onto his forehead with a loud grunt before yelling at all of them.

“What are all of you even doing up here?! I thought you were all investigating Slade’s files in the cave?” He questioned as Dick walked over to stand beside Bruce.

“Bruce asked us to check to make sure you didn’t sneak out again, but to our surprise you were just training to err… Clear your thoughts…” Dick said trying to be serious as Tim and Jason continued laughing, Bruce walking up to stand in front of his youngest son who was now the same height as him.

“Did you find anything on Slade? Or perhaps on the girl?” Damian asked trying to change the conversation for his own sake.

“Quite a few things actually.” Bruce stated, tapping his watch and sliding through the holographic files as his four protégé’s gathered around him.

Bruce began swiping through her files downloaded from the bat computer; Dick looking up at Damian and wiggling his brows mockingly before Damian gave him a hard punch to the shoulder.

“Owww” He huffed out rubbing the now black and blued spot.

“I swear to god I run a nursery.” Bruce sighed while shaking his head, his adopted sons and biological son discontinuing their shenanigans for the time being.

“Her name is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), a sixteen year old girl from east Gotham. She was born in (W/Y/L) but moved to Gotham with her mother when she was eight. Her mother was (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), a federal agent and rumored first class assassin. She passed away when (Y/N) was nine; there is no documentation of (Y/N)’s father, he is documented as “unknown” in her birth certificate. She was abandoned on an Orphanage doorstep in Gotham as a child; Santa Maria’s home for girls, currently the worst group home in the state. Her files show numerous attempts for adoption, but every family ended up bringing her back… without comment…”

Bruce was silent; tapping his watch turning it off wondering what was so awful about you that forced every family to bring you back. And even so, why would Slade want anything to do with you?

“Perhaps she wasn’t a good kid?” Dick questioned

“Not so, her grades are high honors, she’s an exceptional student in school and in the Gotham Academy orchestra, she has a crystal clean criminal record and no affiliation with crime whatsoever… She appears to be a good kid…” Bruce’s voice faded in confusion before Damian suddenly remembered what you’d told him before fainting back in the warehouse two days ago.

“Back when we found her, she told me something on the lines of her being a monster… Perhaps her abilities with fire cause others to think of her this way?” Damian asked.

They all turned to him in silence; surprised by the fact that Damian was even interested in your case, let alone having concern for how others “felt about you”

“I- I suppose that’s a valid motive.” Bruce stated.

“Well when is she leaving?” Damian questioned as he crossed his arms in annoyance.

There he is, there’s the jerk son I know. Bruce thought

“She can’t go back to her group home with Slade already knowing where she resides, and she’d pose as a threat if she went back to Gotham Academy, putting not only herself but others in danger as well… ” Bruce grabbed a small remote from his pant pocket and pressed the button on it and calling Alfred through its speaker.

“Alfred have you called Santa Maria’s director yet?” Bruce asked into the remote.

“Indeed master Wayne, the home’s director was practically pleading that we take the girl, arrangements have been made to pick up her belongings in the morning sir” Alfred stated through the remote speaker before Bruce confirmed and hung up.

“Wow you all are really tall… ” said a feminine voice coming from the back of the room; causing them all to turn around at once in shock to see the girl they hadn’t expected to be awake yet.

You stood against the training room back wall; your arms crossed as you looked on at them with curiosity in your eyes. You were freezing cold in the medical nightgown that only went down to your mid thighs; unaware of your somewhat provoking attire while looking up at the men that towered over you like giants.

You scanned the dropped jaws of the room, recognizing two as the batman and robin from two nights ago except without their masks, however the other three men you couldn’t identify. Meanwhile Damian was frozen; with a stare fixated on every inch of you as he felt his heart beating in his throat. Jason was the first to notice this and snickered as Tim tapped Dick on the shoulder pointing and laughing at the gawking boy. Once Dick was brought to the attention of Damian’s staring, he slapped Damian on the back causing him to realize he was staring; loathing himself immensely for it.

Damian growled in anger as he crossed his arms grudgingly; his father and brothers looking on as he huffed out towards you angrily.

“You!” He spat out at you.

“You stupid little girl and your pathetic harlotry and your god awful STUPID… FACE!” Damian yelled in frustration as Bruce barked at him, causing his brothers to watch on in amusement. You stepped back somewhat dumbfounded, your eyes narrowing as she felt your fists grow hotter; making sure to restrain yourself by keeping them at your sides.

Listen you disreputable, arrogant, bloodthirsty little- wait… what? Harlot? As in like, whore?” You took a confused step back; fists no longer hot as your head tilted while raising a brow in confusion. Bruce’s eyes widened preparing his mind for the burning destruction that would probably come as Dick, Jason, and Tim stepped back from you; knowing very well how explosive this could turn due to their own bad experiences with women. The only person to stand close to you was Damian, refusing to back away, yet still preparing for an outburst from you any moment as you stood with your head slightly tilted.

You really don’t know me bird boy. I have the sex appeal of a moldy potato; I’ve never kissed anyone, let alone had intimate relations with anyone… So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You replied in all honesty as Damian scoffed before stepping closer to you.

“Really Liar? Never kissed anyone? That wasn’t the case back at the warehouse when you kissed me!” Damian spat back at you; watching the blood completely drain from your face as your eyes widened like a deer in headlights.

“I did what?!“ 


Jason Todd x Reader - Sweet Child O’ Mine pt 2

Requested by: SO MANY PEOPLE

Warnings: none

Song: none

Words: 1470

Tagging: @memento-scribet (This was supposed to be for your birthday, but I had no time during the week and I’m really sorry for that! but here it is! I know It wasn’t much of a surprise because you read it earlier, but it is still for you.)



Walking out of the GCPD, a drop of rain hit your forehead, and another on your hand. You looked down to the boy at your side, and he had a drop on his arm, running down his elbow and over his wrist, down his finger and dropping to the ground.

He looked up at you with a goofy grin plastered on his face, gripping your hand tighter and his grin growing to a smirk, he took off in a sprint to the only car parked out front, and you ran with him. He dropped Jason’s hand, and Jason watched with a smile as the two of you ran in the rain, happiness radiating off of your bodies in waves, hair soaking wet and covering your faces, and fingers intertwined as your feet splashed against the forming puddles.

Jason sat in the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger’s, as the kid sat in the back. You never turned your head, but you watched him through the mirror as he stared out the window, watching the rain fall and the people run from it, shelter under buildings and umbrellas and holding on to others to save space. The boy’s focus was just on what lay outside the car, and he didn’t notice when Jason reached back and patted his shoulder.

Keep reading

Are You Still Watching?

Song: Sweet Dreams (Marilyn Manson)

Requested: by anon “Can you do an {Ethan} imagine loosely based on American Psycho?”

Warnings: violence, stalking (trigger), slight Stockholm Syndrome (trigger)

Tags: Ethan x reader, obsession, suspense, thriller

A/N : Make sure you push the external image thingy, it’s part of the story!!please be advised that this is entirely fictional, this imagine deals with sensitive subjects and detailed violence, this isn’t meant to offend anyone, my heart goes out to the victims of this terrible crime. If you are sensitive to this, please do not continue.  

Also this is long AF, so enjoy

Again, you have been warned

Originally posted by midnightmurdershow

Frank Herbert wrote, “Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.” and obliteration shall it be, as you sat unaware on the crème white couch—your fingertips lightly smacking against the keys of your laptop; typing away

Six hours prior

Sweet dreams are made of these…

Who am I to disagree?

The group giggled as they descended down the steps of their rented cabin.  They were quite baffled you didn’t want to join in on their night of fun when vacationing here was your idea originally. As they neared the grey Sedan however, all thoughts disappeared as a ruffling in the bushes captured their attention.  

“D'you hear that?” Veronica inquired, looking around cautiously.

“It’s probably nothing, Ronnie,” the youngest of the two snickered, “We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” She rolled her shoulders, waiting for her sister to get in the car. Her sister, ever the ‘Nervous Nelly’, shook her head.

“Ramona, get in the car. It’s probably nothing, I just want to make sure.” She waved her hand, dismissing her sister as she turned and stalked into the brush. Ramona shrugged, slightly annoyed at her sisters anxious behavior. 

Travel the world, and the seven seas

Alas, poor Ramona, did get into that car. Unaware about the final moments of her life that were about to unfold. She sat there momentarily breathing, frozen in fear as her wide eyes met his through the rear-view mirror. 

His actions were quick, just a quick draw of the serrated blade against the creamy flesh of her neck, and it was over for young Ramona.  The thick, scarlet liquid poured over the gash, body twitching violently.  Ramona’s eyes glazed over, blood foamed and trickled at the corners of her mouth, and then she stilled.

A grin, an evil and horrifying grin was plastered on his face.  He breathed deeply before opening the door, and stepping out. He ever so quietly crept up to Veronica.  With much less mercy than before, he sprang forward. His large hand clasped against her, muffling her screams drastically as he continuously  stabbed at her abdomen with the steel blade.

It didn’t take long before he had both bodies placed back into the now hidden car. Swiftly after finding Ramona’s phone, the young man stalked back to a nearby tree.  He looked up, and peered at you through thick lashes in awe.  He didn’t know what it was about you that drew him in.

 What he did know, was that tonight was the night. He would make you his. However long that may take.

Everybody’s looking for something…


       Your dark orbs lazily flick down to the bottom right of the screen. It was getting late, and the quite grumbles of your stomach signaled that you we’re hungry. With a heavy sigh, you shut your computer, lightly toss it forwards, and stand up.

       You were on break, a nice vacation from the workload of school. A few of your close friends had rented out this secluded cabin.  They were out partying for the night, but you decided to stay in and work on something you loved doing. While you did have a basic knowledge of cooking, you didn’t feel like making―or do much of anything. Re-heats would have to suffice.

       Pulling the ends of your cotton shorts down, you open the refrigerator, and search for the Tupperware containing leftovers from last night’s meal. You huff lightly as you bend down farther, reaching for the plastic container in the very back of the fridge.

       A distant crunch caused you to flinch as you stood back, Tupperware in hand. A smile tugs at your lips, shaking your head you laugh. Just my imagination, you mused silently. Nudging the door closed, you’re bare feet lightly pat against the tile flooring as you pop the red lid off the plastic container. Awkwardly placing it into the microwave, you set the timer. 


      Your head snaps to the side and your brows furrow as you tread back to the couch you were once sitting on.  Grabbing your phone, you check the notifications.  It was a missed call from an unknown number. Shrugging, you leave your phone on the table, treading back into the kitchen.

      The microwave’s timer went off after a few more seconds, grabbing a fork and a glass of water, you take your food to the kitchen counter.  It wasn’t long into your meal before your phone went off again. 

      Shrugging, you continue your dinner in peace, silently complaining that you didn’t have anything to do.  You swallow thickly as your phone rings once more. From the angle you were sitting at, you cans see that it was the same number.  They say curiosity killed the cat, and now, you can understand why.

     Standing up, you slowly made your way back to the couch. Back to your phone.  Leaning down, you swiftly grab it, and sit down.  Your thumb hovers over the green key, just as you were about to click answer, you got a message.

Unknown: It’s not nice to ignore someone’s calls, you wouldn’t want to make me upset would you?

       The words sent a chill down your spine, you were frozen in place as you stared at the screen.  Your mind tried to rationalize the situation and immediately disregarded what happened. It’s just a wrong number. I’m in the middle of no where. I’m fine, nothing is going to happen. You quickly type out: I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number, and shut off your phone.

      It was a bit later in the night, the dishes were washed, and you had settled back on the couch.  You had turned your phone back on, and although you had no longer received any unknown calls―or messages―you couldn’t stop the unsettling feeling that consumed you. Random noises outside, even the house settling, utterly unnerved you.

     You sigh, looking at your work with disinterest.  Nothing had come to you in the last twenty minutes, and you were getting bored.  Existing out of your word program, you lie on your side, and opened Netflix.  

     The vibrations belonging to your phone lull you out of your deep slumber. It was much later than you had anticipated.  Pushing yourself up sluggishly, your eyelids heavy, you look at your computer screen.  The show you had been watching was currently paused, and the screen now read: Are you still watching?

      You had received two more messages from ‘Unknown’. All the 'logical’ reasons you had earlier created seemed to dissolve as you clicked the messaging app. Scanning the recent contacts, you immediately find the unknown number. Your breath hitched.

Unknown: Wrong number, huh Y/N?

A multimedia message quickly followed. Dragging your tongue across your bottom lip, you press accept, waiting for whatever had been sent you to appear.

*image downloading*


Your jaw becomes lax as your mouth falls open, your eyes widen in fear. It was a photo of you, sitting exactly where you were now.  Every possible nerve in your body felt like ice, the voices in your head screamed at you to get out.  Yet you stayed in place, you couldn’t move. 

Furrowing your brows and squinting, you catch something. In the back corner, behind the glass door, stood a masked man. Your hands become numb, and the device falls besides you. Slowly, you turn your head, only half relieved to see that no one was there.  Your phone vibrates against your palms, and you glance down.

*Image downloaded*

Unknown: You’re going to have to look harder than this…

With shallow breaths, you stood up; cautiously looking around every few seconds. You quickly grab your phone, and scan the door. it was unlocked. Running forwards, you crash against the door as you quickly try and lock it, a loud smack against the pane causes you to flinch as you look up.

There he stood, tall and menacing, as he waved at you tauntingly. He grabs something out of one of his many pockets. It was a phone, the case rose gold, covered in a red substance you only assumed to be blood.

 Ramona’s phone. 

A choked scream fell from your lips as you backed up, slowly looking around, looking at possible exits. His eyes followed yours, the window just across from you was open. Thoughts flooded your head as you both make a run for it, you winning by just seconds due to him having to turn at the side of the cabin. He slams his fist against the window angrily as you step back once more. 

Still keeping your eyes on him, you use your peripheral vision to check the other options of entry.  Your nerves slightly settled once you were reassured he couldn’t get in.  He cocks his head to the side as he turns, your eyes follow him carefully, watching his drawn out movements.  Into the brush he went, and your brows furrow.  Maybe he left, you thought to yourself wishfully.  You hear a loud click, and you glance up.  All the hope you just had washed away as soon as the power immediately cuts out, enveloping you in darkness.

With an accelerated heart beat, tears begin to brim in your eyes.  Using the little moonlight you had to your advantage, you run into the kitchen.  Pulling and throwing open drawers, you search desperately for a flashlight, even a match. Anything.  Luckily, you find a red military grade flashlight, pressing down on the rubber patch, the almost blinding light flickers on.

“It works!” You whisper thankfully. He was back at the door, bringing his hand up, he taps at the glass ever so slowly. You swallow thickly, walking nervously around the counter, standing only feet apart. 

For a while you stand in near silence, your heavy pants the only audible sound. He shakes his head, still peering at you intensely. A flutter of confidence ignites in you, as you so confidently attempt to speak.

Some of them want to  use you

“Please, leave me alone. I haven’t seen you, I wont tell anyone.” It comes out weak, and you were unsure if he heard you or not.  His shoulders lightly shake, he must be laughing. He shakes his head, pulling off his grey beanie and mask.

In any other situation, you would have been in  awe of his beauty.  This was neither the time nor place. You were only left in confusion, the stereotypes looking nothing like him.  You couldn’t help but hate yourself for noting he was attractive.

Some of them want to get used by you

You’ve seen my face, now haven’t you?” He taunts. He did hear you. You could only nod as a reply, your hot tears burning your cheeks. You sink to the floor, feeling defeated. 

“Locking the doors wont work Y/N, I can come in anytime I want. Get you, anytime I want,” he pauses and stares at you in infatuation, “but I won't―not until it’s time. Do you understand?” He smiles at you almost sweetly, you feel sick. 

Some of them want to abuse you

“Not until you’re tired, wishing that you were dead.  Then I’ll come in.” You couldn’t concentrate, flinching out of your almost dream like state when he slams a large hand onto the glass.

“I asked you a question, do you understand?” You bite your lip, nodding slowly.

Some of them want to be abused

“Good.” He says quietly, his voice was soothing.  He steps, back walking down the steps of the cabin, never taking his eyes off of you.

A/N: yo, this is way too long as a single imagine, so I’m just going to leave it here. Part two shall be posted tomorrow :) Along with the other asks and requests as well.

I’m so sorry for the long wait @lelainablue @ienjoytacosanddietcoke @dolantwins-1999 , etc. On top of a messy school schedule  and WEEKS worth of homework, and many more crazy reasons, I’ve totally slacked, and I’m so sorry. I hope this little bump wont stop you from requesting in the future.

horrans  asked:

imagine H meeting w the missus backstage after SOTT and he is worried if he did good or not and asks her to be honest and she tells him he did great and not to worry but he just felt it needed more and he just asks her for a hug and she hugs him and runs her finger through his almost there curls and he is like a giant baby for a second but she reassures him its his first time performing it and each time will be better than the last !! and oOMG GEENA !

This was one of the first things I thought of when I saw his sad little disappointed face after SOTT. :’((

She’s already hurrying out of her seat when someone from backstage comes up and tells her that he asked them to come and find her. 

When she reaches his dressing room, he’s tearing out his in-ears and ripping his suit jacket open so he can messily tug it off. And he’s biting his lips, his eyebrows pushed together and she knows it’s eating him. Every little mistake he might’ve possibly made up there. 

“Harry?” she says gently, as if not wanting to startle him. 

And he looks over and she can tell there’s the slightest bit of moisture in his eyes that he’s desperately trying to blink away. Dressers are shuffling in with his next costume change.  

“Baby.” It comes out croaky and rough. 

Her stomach drops a little. This is such a special night to him, and it breaks her to know that he’s falling apart. 


“Just tell me honestly, it was bad, wasn’t it?” he rushes out through a tight breath. “It was so bad.” 

“No! No, not at all. It was amazing. You did amazing. Why are so upset about it? You sounded so good.” 

He drags a hand over his face and exhales slowly. “Did you hear what my voice did at the end? It was shit. My throat is so fucked.” He pushes his hands through his hair and refuses to look at her. When he finally does, he crumbles. He’s not just angry with himself. He’s sad. “I just wanted it to go so much better.” 


“Can I just have a hug, please?” 

He doesn’t even have to think about asking her again before she’s wrapping him up in her arms and squeezing him tight against her. He buries his face in her neck and tries to hide. Hooks his arms around her waist to try and bring her even closer. She cards her fingers through the rough hair at the back of his head and then the tiny curls by his ears. Feels his lips sponging lightly at the base of her neck. As much as he tries to relax against her, she can feel how tense he is. 

“I love you, Harry.” 

He takes a shaky breath against her neck. “I love you too.” 

When they pull away, he plops down on the small sofa against the far wall and she follows, sinking down next to him. 

“Hey…” She drags the backs of her fingers down his cheek. “I hate that you beat yourself up like this.” 

He frowns. “Can’t help it.” 

“I know.” She tucks and untucks a lock of hair from behind his ear. “Wish you wouldn’t, though.”  

“We sounded so good rehearsing yesterday. And it’s like, when I got up there, I couldn’t get my voice to come out right. It just wouldn’t do it. I can hit those notes.” 

She squeezes his knee and taps a thumb along his jaw. “Baby, I know you can. And I know for a fact that everyone knows you can. You’re nervous. You got nervous and this is the first time you’ve been up on stage in over a year. And now it’s just you that has to carry them the whole time. AND it’s the first time you’re singing these to an audience. And that’s hard. And if anyone can’t see that, that’s there own fault, and they’re gonna have to answer to me.” 

That gets the smallest of smiles and a giggle and he snuggles his body up against her side. “You love these songs. You love them so much, and that’s what’s important. You could see how much you love them up there. That’s what everyone wants to see. So, please don’t worry. It’s gonna get better every time.” 

He flops his head on her shoulder. “Thank you, baby. How do you always know how to pull me out of my head?”

She laughs, scrubbing her fingers through his hair. There’s a whisper of a curl starting to come back, and she twists her fingers through the locks. “Years of practice.” She kisses the shell of his ear. 

“Can I have a kiss?” 

She grins. “Oh, now you’re just being greedy.” Not missing a beat, she leans in to kiss him, and for just a moment, they forget where they are and he deepens the kiss, pulling her bottom lip between his. Smiling against his mouth as she breaks the kiss softly, she pecks his lips. It’s a quick tap on the door that brings them fully back to reality. 

“Harry? I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need you dressed and in place in three minutes.”  

“That’s my cue to go.” She cups his cheek and runs the pad of her thumb over the softness of his skin. “You okay?”  

He nods, smiling. “Yeah. Thank you.” 

She kisses his forehead and starts to head for the door. 

“You sure you don’t want to see my next costume first?” 

She catches herself on the doorframe. “Nope, nope, nope! I want to be fully surprised!” 


[Why I Love] - Chpt 7.

Negan x Addison 

[Summary: Addison returns to Alexandria with Negan and Carl]

A/N: :)) sorry if there are grammar errors, I’ve had a super long day and really didn’t feel like nitpicking xxxx sorry >.<

Originally posted by starkchemistry101

Instead of being happy that I’m back in Alexandria, I’m filled with dread. Once Negan had arrived, he ensured that he made his presence known to everyone. He wanted to go straight to Rick’s house, even though I had a feeling he wasn’t around. As we walked, Carl grabbed onto my elbow, the guilt written all over his face. I put my arm over his shoulder, softy squeezing it, letting him know it’s okay. He can’t blame himself for this. 

The first person I see at Rick’s is Olivia. “Addison!” Her cheeks turned pink from smiling. She pulled me in for a hug. “It’s so good to see you, and you too little guy” She said fluffing Toby’s messy locks “Everyone is waiting for you upstairs, they missed you a lot” 

“Olivia…” I tried warning her.

“Honey, I’m home!” Negan sang from behind me. Olivia’s face dropped as she watched him casually stroll inside. “I’ll let Addison explain why I stopped by” He said walking over to me. To Olivia’s surprise, Toby easily reached his arms out to Negan. “I’ll take my buddy upstairs” he informed, making his way up while Carl followed him. 

“What the…”

“Carl showed up. He killed two of Negan’s men. He thought I was in trouble, so now Negan’s here” I explained, unable to ignore the horrified expression on Olivia’s face. I didn’t even bother asking why no one was watching him, knowing Carl he’s probably had this plan on his mind for a while. 

“What happened while you were gone?”  

“Nothing” I brushed her off, hiding the shame I felt thinking about all those moments that Negan and I had shared while I was away. “We’re fine, that’s all that matters” 

Keep reading


Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your New Year’s Eve dinner party was going smoothly, until the fireworks starts. 

Word count: 767 words

A/N: A little something to kick off the New Year, this is loosely based on a personal event that unfortunately happened to me 😕 Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

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Avengers Of The Caribbean - PART THREE

Originally posted by hopeinloveinfinity

Originally posted by enchanted-forests

Summary: Time to meet the crew and stuff.

Warnings: Swearing. Fuck.

Tagging: @justageekypieceoftrash @princeofsassgard @buckybarnesisalittleshit @hollysleeps @generalgoldfishldrm @bangtanjm @sapphire1727  


The humid air wrapped around you and through your thin tunic. Seeing the deck of the Shield ship in daylight was odd. It didn’t look anything like it did when you boarded last night, the wood was lighter and you could see all the intricate details carved into the wood banisters. Your gaze swept upwards to where the sail hung, its cream color was stained from its years at sea but it still looked wonderful whipping in the wind.

Movement above you caught your eye at that moment. In the crow’s nest there were two men looking down at you and the captain from above.

“That’s Clint and Sam, at sea they go by Hawk and Falcon,” Steve says beside you. You kept your eyes upward toward them as the waved. “They’ve got eyes like birds, saved my life and my ship more times than I can count,”

You brought your eyes back down and Steve was smiling at you, you grinned back.

A boy, young by the looks of it, was jogging towards you from the head of the ship. His curly hair bounced and the grin on his face nearly reached his ears.

“Good morning, Cap!” He said, chipper as anything.

Steve looked between both you and the boy. “This is Peter,” He said. “He’s the Cabin Boy. Need something and he’ll fetch it, want to send a message and he’ll send it,”

“Nice to meet you…” He dragged the last word and waited for your response.

“Y/N,” You told him. “The names Y/N,”

“And it’s a lovely one,” He smiled. You almost laughed at how chirpy this kid was, remembering the dark and violent moments at sea you could imagine this boy being any help.

“Is there anything you need, Captain?”

“Not at the moment, Peter,”


Peter began jogging past you again toward the quarterdeck where the wheel stood tall.

Steve tapped your shoulder to bring your attention back to him.

“Does he run everywhere?” You jokingly asked.

With a knowing smile, Steve nodded. “Would you like to meet the ladies of our ship?”

“Of course,”

Natasha was beautiful and kind, she greeted you warmly when Steve introduced you. She was the sailing master of the ship, she drove the thing and had safe keeping over all the maps. From what you’d been told, she navigates like a pro and could steer you all through a hurricane without a problem. Wanda was the second woman aboard the Shield. She too was good looking and sweet, and surprisingly the ship’s chef. Yes, she was sweet and did the cooking for all of the crew but you still saw the pistol sat beside the cooking pot and the knife in her garter.

It took you all of five seconds from the moment Steve asked if you want the job to say yes. There was no real question of whether or not you’d take the job. All you’ve wanted for the past six months is to get back on the open water, back with a crew, drinking beer and singing until the sun rises. Of course there was the factor of Bucky Barnes, commanding gunman that held a pointless grudge against you but you weren’t about to let him fuck this up for you. So, with your chin held high and a grin on your face from ear to ear you said yes to the Captain.

The sun had nearly set completely. A dark orange glow coated the ship as you all sat atop the deck, Steve and Bucky were drinking whiskey up on the quarterdeck where the wheel was situated. Clint and Nat sat on the deck floor, their backs rested beside the canons. Yourself, Wanda, Peter and Sam sat on boxes of cargo under the main mast, chowing down on fish and drinking Maria’s famous beer.

It’s quiet apart from the water that hits the boat, Steve and Bucky’s occasional laughs and the distant sound of the towns rustle and bustle. Sam looks at you from over is pint. There’s a gleam in his eye and a smile forming on his face. He opens his mouth in a wide grin and begins to sing.

‘I am not a pirate but I long to be, sailing by the stars across the seven seas…’

Sam’s voice gains the attention of Nat and Clint and they stop talking.

‘Living with no earthly cares, my mates and me…’

You watch Steve and Bucky lean over the banister and look down at Sam. Then Wanda from beside you joins in.

‘The envy of all worldly men, who are not free…’

Then Clint and Nat sing along too.

‘A song to sing for beggars, a song to sing for saints…’

Steve starts to sing too and Bucky along with him.

‘A song to sing for wealthy men all wrapped and bound in chains…’

Peter joins in at that point, till everyone’s chanting and smiling and trying to get gulps of beer down them between verse breaks. You try not to notice Bucky watching you but you do. He’s smiling in fact and not just at the song, you can tell he’s smiling at you too.

PART FOUR HERE (When I post it)

I was an Angel once | part 10

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Words: 1844

A/N: I’m sorry for any mistakes, my native language is not English.

Warning: none


The floor was cracking under your weight, even if you were careful it was hard to be quiet in this old house. Gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, you walked slowly, carefully looking for the monster you were hunting. It was good to be back; you hadn’t hunted since the whole fight with Lucifer. But it didn’t mean that all was back to normal. You still thought a lot about the Archangel, so much in fact that you didn’t had a full night of sleep since you last talked to him. You were tired and still conflicted with what you were feeling. Guilt, remorse, pain, but a bit of relief and liberation too. You were relieved to have the Winchesters back but you weren’t sure you had done the good thing in the end.

Keep reading

tsuirakukumo  asked:

Dear Sensei, I am working on conditioning my first two knuckles for karate style punching. How should I go about toughening my knuckles without risking permanent injury/ loss of dexterity? (I plan to be a surgeon so finger mobility is important to me.) What training exercises should I do, and how often should I do them? How much is too much? Thanks, Tsuirakukumo

Knuckle push ups and a lightly padded makiwara should be good for this. A real makiwara, though, not one of those that go attached to the wall, those will hurt you.

You can practice one day on, one day off to start off.

With the push ups, start out with 3 sets of ten. If that’s easy to you, then jump to 3 sets of 20. You should work this until doing the nuckle push ups feels normal, without pain or much pressure.

For the makiwara, start out with light taps, get a feel for it, and focus more on correct technique, and build up from there. Start out with 3 sets of 10 punches each hand, if it’s too easy, increase to 20 punches, and build up from there.

You can also add to the knuckle push ups by bringing each hand up to a ready to strike position, and bringing it back down, lightly tapping the floor with your knuckles with every push.

Make sure to always stretch out your fingers before and after training.

You’ll know if it’s too much if you get hurt to the point that you need to stop for days at a time. Keep it simple, and increase with time, don’t think that because you can hit one hard one, that you can go to 100 equally hard.

Now, this is as light as I can think for this kind of training. I would be lying if I told you I knew how much this would affect your hands in the long run, but I can tell you that I know people who’ve done hard training for years and still have normal mobility of their hands.

As long as you take good care of yourself, train right, and don’t overdue it, I don’t see why it would affect you negatively. However, I’m not a medical professional, so don’t take my word in this as stone, because everyone is different.

The best thing you can do is keep your training light, see how it affects you after some time, and then decide for yourself if you should increase the level of training.

Good luck.

Hit me up any time if you wanna talk more about it.


Request: Hi! I just recently came across your blog and I love your writing. I have a few requests, because I get a lot of ideas but I’m terrible at writing lmao. Can you write one where dan and y/n are best friends, and dan starts to have a crush on a girl he saw ( he’s never talked to her ), and dan asks y/n to be his wingman. And although y/n is inlove with dan, she just wants to help him be happy, and so she during that time, dan falls inlove with y/n. Ps, the girl dan likes is a bitch ( not y/n.)♥️🥀

Word Count: 1895 (Wow long for me)

Warning: Swearing???

I don’t know why this took so much to write but hey! Hope you like it! (Ps. Don’t be afraid to start writing. It just takes a lot of practice. Go for it my friend)

Originally posted by danlster

“What drink would you like, Dan?” You asked as you got to the counter of Starbucks after ordering your own drink. You had come for your weekly meet up, every Wednesday at 3pm, but Dan seemed very distracted today. “Usual?” You glanced round to see him staring at someone, then back to you.

“Huh, sorry?” You rolled your eyes at him, but smiling all the same.

“What drink?” You repeated, and his confused expression changed to a light-hearted smile, making your heart flutter for a moment. You had liked Dan for a long time, but annoyingly, you were seriously friend-zoned - you were almost as close as he was with Phil. The phandom adored you, but you didn’t dare tell Dan your true feelings.  

“Oh, usual please.” He answered, and you turned back to the counter to order his drink. You shuffled along the line, having to tap Dan to bring his attention back to the line.

“What is up with you today? You seem so distracted.” You mumbled, frowning as you watched the baristas begin to make your drinks.

“Nothing.” He answered too quickly, and you turned your head to raise an eyebrow but he was already staring at someone again. You followed his gaze to a girl sitting by the window. Her skin was a deep colour, eyes even richer, make-up practically perfect. Her black hair was pulled into two braids, and you were quickly jealous of her beautiful figure. Frowning, you looked away. This was meant to be your day with Dan, no-one else’s, but who were you say he couldn’t look at other people?

You collected you drink and made your way over to your usual seats, Dan trailing after you and slouching down in his seat. You pushed over his drink and took a sip of yours, stealing another jealous glance of the girl. Dan wouldn’t even pull his eyes away from her, until you got so frustrated you placed your cup down and hardened your gaze.

“You like her, don’t you?” You accused, Dan looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“No? What do you mean, of course I don’t – I mean she is pretty, like, but no!” He gushed, his cheeks beginning to burn up. You felt your heart fall to your feet, and you tried not to show any negative emotion, instead giving him a small smile.

“Daniel, you have a little crush!” You teased, his face becoming more and more red by the minute. You laughed, crossing your arms and leaning back.

“She’s way out of my league.” He mumbled.

“Hey, shush you! Of course, she isn’t. Go for it, Danny.” You encouraged him, as much as you felt sick with envy.

“Are you sure?” His eyes light up, and you nodded. “Would you be able to help me out with it – like be my wingman or whatever?” The idea was like a punch in a gut, but if he was happy, you’d be happy too.

“I’d love to be.” You grinned, and he smiled widely at you.

“Okay, what do I do?” He asked. Just be you, you thought. If she’s got any common sense you won’t need to do anything.

“Try and get eye contact with her. If you can’t, walk past her to go to the bin or something and get her attention. Once she has acknowledged you, smile and ask if you can sit down with her. Make conversation, compliment her but don’t overdo it. Offer to buy her drink – if she says yes, write your number down on it. If not, grab any opportunity to tell her your number. Got it?” You instructed. He nodded, thanked you with a quick hug, then picked up his phone, throwing quick looks at her.

You sighed inwardly, picking up your own phone and beginning to play Crossy Road. You were late in finding it, but it was good in passing time. You died a few times before looking up to see Dan had managed to make eye contact, and was mouthing ‘Can I come over?’ at her. You looked over to see her nodding and smiling, and when he got up she began to look at you. You instantly looked back at your phone, gritting your teeth.

Minutes passed by and eventually Dan came back, sitting back down. You put your phone on the table and looked at him expectantly.

“How did it go?” You asked, and he beamed at you.

“Great! We spoke about tumblr, and Muse. She likes photography, fashion, stuff like that.” He nattered on, eyes bright. He reminded you of a puppy.

“Did you give her your number?” You moved on, and he nodded.

“I wrote it on a napkin for her.”

“Danny boy is pulling!” You laughed, forcing a grin. He giggled, hiding his smile with his hand, the sleeves pulled over his fingers. You watched him lovingly, butterflies in your stomach – but then you remembered that giggle was not for you, and your smile dropped, your gaze falling back to your cold drink.

You sat together for a while longer before you parted ways, putting in your earphones and walking through the busy streets of London. You boarded the bus back to your city home, watching the streets flash by through the window with sad eyes.

You were woken up by your phone vibrating violently on your bedside table. Groaning, you picked it up to see Dan’s face on the screen.

It had been around a month since Dan first met the girl at Starbucks, and it had a been a month of helping Dan out. Telling him what he should say to a certain text message, or where the best place to go for a certain date. Every time you helped him, you felt more and more hurt, but you wanted him to be happy. You answered it, putting it to you ear.


“Y/N! I need your help again.” Dan sounded ecstatic.

“What can I do for you?” You asked, sitting up and wrapping your blankets around your arms.

“I have a date with the girl and I don’t know what to wear.” You rolled your eyes, flopping back onto your pillows.

“If she likes you she won’t care what you wear, Dan.”

“Yeah but she is into fashion! If I get it wrong, she’ll drop me.” He broke into your speech. “Please come over and help me choose. Please?” You imagined him with the puppy eyes that always got you, and you sighed loudly into the mic.

“Send over a taxi then.”

“Thank you so much!” He practically yelled, before cutting of the call. You crawled out of bed, pulling on some jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. You didn’t bother putting on make-up, just brushed your hair and pulled on your shoes before hearing a knock on the door.

“It’s not tumblr enough.”

“For god’s sake, Dan!” You threw down another outfit, raking your fingers through your hair.

“I want her to like me!” He retorted.

“I’ve already said she won’t care if she is worth your time!” You sat down on his bed. “Look, get out of here and let me pick something for you.”

“Fine.” He left the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a sigh before standing up and picking out some black jeans, laying them on the bed. Then you looked through his t-shirts, shaking your head before leaving the room, knocking on Phil’s door before opening it.

“Hey, Y/N.” Phil greeted you, looking away from the camera.

“Sorry, didn’t know you were filming.” You smiled, and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind. Want to say hello to the internet?” He suggested.

“Hello!” You yelled, but not showing yourself on camera. “I look gross so I’m not coming on camera.” Phil chuckled.

“You look great, Y/N. Anyway, what do you need?” He asked.

“Can I borrow a checked shirt by any chance? It’s for Dan.” Phil nodded, getting up and opening his wardrobe and picking out a red and black one.

“This okay?”

“Perfect, thank you.” He threw it to you, before sitting back down. “Bye internet!” You wiggled your fingers in front of the camera, winking at Phil before going back to Dan’s room. You laid out the shirt, picked up his leather jacket and smiled, nodding to yourself.

“Danny!” You yelled, and he appeared from the living room. “Try that out.” You left the room, waiting as he got changed. The door opened, and you looked over.

“How do I look?” He asked, flashing a smirk.

“H-Hot – wait no – erm. You look great. She’ll love it.” Your cheeks burned red, and he began to laugh at you. “I better go now, yeah. Okay. Have fun.” He gave you a quick hug before you headed out, catching the bus back to your apartment.

(Dan’s POV)

I watched Y/N go sadly, beginning to wish I wasn’t going on the date anymore. When I first saw her in the café, I did want to get to know her, but over the past month it became an excuse to hang out with Y/N more. The girl was sort of a bitch anyway, so I didn’t know exactly what I was thinking. I shook my head and pulled on my shoes, saying bye to Phil before leaving to go to meet her.

The date was going okay. We made conversation, talking about different trends and music, but I couldn’t stop thinking that it should have been Y/N sitting there. The waiter eventually came to take our orders, and I made mine.

“What do you want, Y/N?” The words had left my lips before I could stop myself, and I looked up from the menu.

“Nothing.” She glared at me, before looking at the waiter. “Cancel the dinner. We’re leaving.” She snapped, and he nodded before hastily taking away our menus.

“What?” I hissed, but she just got up and left, me running after her. “What are you doing?” I called after her outside.

“You don’t like me, do you? You like her. I don’t know why you bothered coming. You’ve been thinking about her this entire time, haven’t you!” She glared at me, arms crossed. I kept my mouth shut. “I fucking knew it. Don’t talk to me again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t plan to.” I spat.

“Have fun with the loser.” She rolled her eyes and strode away.

“I will!” I yelled, shoving my hands in my pockets and walking in the other direction.

(Your POV)

Your eyes were trained on the TV in front of you, but in your mind, you were thinking of other things. Dan being with the girl, Dan holding hands with her, being a couple. It made you feel sick, but you couldn’t bring your thoughts away from it.

A knock at the door brought you back to reality, and you pulled yourself onto your feet, opening the door. Before you could see who it was, they stepped forward and met you in a kiss, one hand on your cheek and the other in the small of your back. You paused before realising who it was, kissing back with the same passion you were receiving.

When eventually you broke away, you bit your lip, looking up at Dan.

“Date end badly?” You asked, and he chuckled.

“You could put it that way.”

anonymous asked:

Could you do an imagine where Jerome admires the reader from afar and then he finds out she works at Arkham so he turns himself and then after the reader has a few sessions with Jerome, and the reader feels bad for what Jerome went through, he breaks out and shows up at their apartment? Sorry if this is confusing

// This is a great idea!


Warnings: Mentions of stalking, possibly offensive language.


Rating: Fluff.


Title: Crazy In Love. //



Jerome had been around the GCPD station very often in recent weeks; not that anyone else knew. There was a girl that had shown up at the circus one day, and he just couldn’t get enough of her. Something had instantly attracted him, and before he really knew what he was doing, he had followed her home. He found himself loving everything about her; the way she walked, the sound of her voice and beautiful laugh. When he first heard, her laugh it was as if his whole world stopped, and she was all that there was. He had no idea what she was doing around the GCPD so much, and it didn’t matter much to him. All that mattered was him seeing her.

But now, being in the GCPD office, he found himself very nervous. Everyone in the Circus was being questioned about the murdered of Lila Valeska, Jerome’s mother. Of course, he knew who killed her. It was a night that he would never forget, he finally took the problem into his own hands and fixed it. Permanently. Did he feel guilty about it? No. He’d done everyone a favor by knocking off that whore. Jerome holds back a smile as he walks out of the interrogation room, proud of the performance he had put on. He’d kept his audience captivated, and even teared up a bit. Overall, he was pretty sure he was in the clear. Jim sighs, walking out of the room after Jerome.

“Everyone but the two who started the fight, you can go home but don’t go anywhere,” He casts his gaze to Jerome as he says that last part, but he doesn’t notice. In fact, nothing really existed at this time to Jerome. Everything seemed to freeze and drop away. Everything but her. She was here. A tall, thin man with glasses walks over reluctantly from Harvey, and taps Jerome’s shoulder, bringing him back into the real world.

“Do you know who that girl is?” Jerome asks, pointing over to her subtly. The man nods quickly, looking back over at Harvey and giving a small shrug before responding.

“Yes, that’s y/n. Y/n, l/n.”

“What’s she doing here?” He asks, still staring ahead at her.

“She works with Arkham patients. She’s probably just reporting about one of them. Why?” The man asks, looking over at Jerome quickly.

“Gordon,” Jerome says, turning around. “Where is he?”

“Ed!” Harvey shouts, walking over. “What’s going on, Ed?” Ed shrugs, motioning to Jerome.

“He wants to know where Jim is,” Ed explains, backing away. “I’m going to go, I have work to do.” Ed smiles. “Busy, busy, busy.” Ed lingers for a while; as if waiting for someone to say something.

“Nygma, if you’re going to go, then go,” Harvey growls, still looking at Jerome. Ed walks away quickly, muttering to himself. “Why do you need to see Jim?” Harvey asks. “He’s very busy, he doesn’t have time for you to waste.”

“Oh, I don’t think this would be a waste of time,” Jerome says, smiling wickedly.

“Stop screwing around, what do you need to tell Jim?” Harvey says, resting his hand on his gun. Jerome shrugs and moves his hand in an odd gesture.

“Oh, I just have a secret to tell him.” Before Harvey has time to respond, Jerome laughs wildly. “I killed Lila.”

Turns out, that one sentence was enough to land Jerome in Arkham. Not that he cared, this was actually what he wanted. He had finally been able to talk to y/n after all this time, all it took was turning himself in. They had given all the Arkham patients a psychiatrist. Y/n was the only one who would go near the Arkham patients, so she worked with all of them. She watches carefully as Jerome tells stories of his mom coming home, drunk, and very angry. He found himself opening up to her and struggles to not get slightly emotional. He stops talking, shrugging and quickly launching into a joke. She shakes her head.

“Jerome, you do this every time. You can tell me what she did to you,” she whispers, reaching her hand out. “We get this far every time, and you always stop.” Her eyes meet his, and something in Jerome breaks.

“My mother was a cold-hearted whore who never loved anyone, including me.” He growls, his eyes darkening. “She used to beat me senseless; she’d even let her lovers hit me too.” Y/n’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head.

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this? Jerome…I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” Jerome’s gaze snaps up to meet hers, and his head tilts.

“You…” His voice trails off, and he smiles softly. “You’re very kind, y/n.” His smile widens. “I won’t forget that.” Before y/n can ask what that means, a guard comes in and escorts Jerome out. When he sits at the table with Barbara, he rests his hand in his chin as a new prisoner is escorted in. Jerome briefly looks up at the man as he proclaims himself to be Zaardon, but he quickly loses interests and opts to think about y/n instead. His attention snaps back quickly as the man jumps up on a table and he looks up in amusement. Everyone is slightly annoyed with this man, and when he collapses on the table, Jerome’s curiosity peaks. A noxious blue gas begins to spew from Zaardon’s mouth, and Barbara and Jerome jump up, only to slowly choke and fall to the ground, unconscious.

When y/n heard about the escape of some of the Arkham patients, there was a small part of her that was happy when she learned Jerome Valeska had been one of them to escape. During their time, together, something about the ginger had drawn y/n’s attention more than the others. He was broken inside; emotionally and mentally, although he would never admit it. She had begun to feel extremely sorry for him. Jerome had been mistreated his whole life. He had never been shown affection by everybody, and the violence he grew up around slowly began to seem normal to him. This was all he knew; doing cruel, horrible things to someone and feeling no remorse. He liked to have a bad reputation, mainly because then the attention was on him. He loved to be in the spotlight, and he used his sociopathic tendencies to get that. He never claimed to be a good person, yet y/n still found herself rooting for him. Subconsciously, she had started to take a liking to him. She knew that he was fond of her too. It was clear she was the only person he’d opened up to and showed his real emotions to in a long time. Often times in their sessions he would be slightly flirtatious, dropping a complement here and there. He complemented her on things she’d never been complemented on before, and that shocked her. Jerome wasn’t the most stable person, but y/n still never expected him to be waiting for her when she got home.

 She shuts the door, keeping her eyes on him.

“This is a nice place you got doll. I like it.” She sets her keys down, and, eyeing him cautiously, removes her coat.

“What are you doing here Jerome?” She asks, keeping her voice light as if the situation was entirely normal. He sighs, and covers his face.

“I need to talk. I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore.” He whispers and peeks at her through his fingers. Y/n nods slowly, and walks over to him, sitting directly next to him instead of across from him. Something about the obviously weak state he was in made her feel safer, and she felt an odd obligation to help him. His hands drop into his lap and he rests his head on her shoulder, exhaling loudly. Y/n puts her hand on top of his, and intertwines their fingers.

“Talk to me, Jerome.”

Choose and keep the right people in your life. Associate with people who you want to be like. You’re not going to imitate them, you will learn from them, grow and discover your true voice. Because these kind of people will bring cheerfulness, they will motivate you and tap your back to remind you that you’re on the right track. Creating a positive environment around you attracts success and it makes your vision clearer. It also creates a healing space that fosters growth that opens door for opportunity. Everything will become lighter because positivity brings happiness. So, never waste a space in your life for a negative vibe.
—  E.J. Cenita
Skin Care Regimen
What you’ll need:
  • Black soap (or Dove Sensitive).
  • Chlorophyll.
  • Pure, unsweetened honey.
  • Facial mask.
  • Organic sugar, sea salt, or oatmeal (for more sensitive skin).
  • Facial steamer, or a large pot, a stove, and a basin (I use the stove, pot, basin method).
  • Towels.
  • Hair ties.
  • Lemon juice.
  • Olive oil or grapeseed oil.
  • Coconut oil.
  • Cold cream.
  • Green tea.
  • A good moisturizer (I prefer hypo-allergenic, oil-free moisturizers. I now use Cetaphil (and I love it!).

(Remove make up, if you have any on. I use a cold cream)

STEP ONE: Exfoliation: Mix honey, sugar (or sea salt, or oatmeal (that has been through a food processor)), olive oil or grapeseed oil, chlorophyll, and a drop or two of lemon juice. Mix and rub onto face is circular, upward motions.
Some days, if my skin feels extra dry, I will slather coconut oil/olive oil onto my face, neck, and chest; then leave it for several minutes before exfoliation.
**I have found that exfoliating everyday, or every other day, works best for me. You have to find what’s best for you.**

STEP TWO: Cleanse: Wet face, neck, and chest. Lather with Black soap (or dove sensitive). Rub face in circular, upward motions. Rinse with warm water. Repeat if necessary (your face may have traces of oil left if you don’t).

STEP THREE: Steam: tie your hair back. Bring water to a boil (or if your tap water gets hot enough for really good steam, use that). Add honey and green tea (essential oils optional). Pour water into basin, or keep it in the pot if you like. Lean over the pot/basin, and place a large towel over your head and the pot/basin (if it hurts, your face is too close). Steam for about 3-5 minutes (I do it for 5, but if for some reason I don’t feel like it, I’ll finish it off with a warm/hot washcloth on my face for a few minutes).
**Some people prefer to exfoliate after this step. I alternate, honestly. Can’t decide which I like better. I feel like exfoliating first probably gives you a “deeper,” better cleanse, though.**

STEP FOUR: Moisturize: I use Cetaphil. Moisturize by rubbing into skin in upward, circular motions.
**I have pretty sensitive, dry skin. This has worked the best for me thus far, and I even wear it under make up with no problems.**
**Before this step, I use a DIY facemask, but sometimes I’m lazy and skip it.**
**If I had a break out, and or popped a pimple, I will use witch hazel. Witch hazel is also a great astringent.**

I have had SOOO much trouble with my skin… So far, I’ve been having great results with this. This is the only thing that has ever worked for me.

Let me know how it works for you!

**This is a weekly, or bi-weekly regimen. NOT daily**

**Any proper skin care regimen includes drinking PLENTY of water, every day.**

To Conjure a Patronus.

a collaboration with @thebirdfromthemoon-art

Summary: Hogwarts AU! Marinette is finally teaching the Patronus Charm to her peers. By the end of the month, everyone had managed to conjure their own animal patronus. All except Adrien. And it’s up to Marinette to help the boy find his strongest and happiest memory from the past. 

Genre : Magic, Hurt/Comfort

Warning:  Lots of cute, innocent Fluff!!

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Doll? {Peter Pan Imagine}

Originally posted by lostgirl14480

Originally posted by gurl

Peter Pan Imagine 

 Part III of here

Author: Joi A. Wade 

Requested: YES,  Part 3 to Doll?,  PART THREE PLEASE AHH UR SO TALENTED.. Sorry I got too excited I didn’t specify but your Peter Pan greaser AU is the best thing I’ve read in a while I’m in love!!, Are you gonna do a part three for “Doll?” the Peter Pan imagine? I love the whole concept and I need more!!😫😫😫Love ya!!😘, U should do Part 3 to doll I luv it !😀😀😊😊😍 The doll series is literally my favorite peter pan x reader I’ve ever read! You did AMAZING❤ Really hope you continue it😘Will ‘doll’ have a part 3? Please tell me there is! I love UR writing,  The doll series is literally my favorite peter pan x reader I’ve ever read! You did AMAZING❤ Really hope you continue it😘 ,  Omg I love doll!!!! Please say there’s going to be a part 3!?!? Ps I love your writing!;) x,  please please please make a doll part 3!!!! pretty please 😘💚

Note: gOOD LORD here ya guys go! 

Warnings: SHORT, swearing, greaser!Peter, soc!Reader

Two days have passed since the incident on Friday. It was now currently Sunday in the evening, as Peter raised from his uncomfortable couch in the Lost Boys’ hideout, with a large groan. He rubbed his eyes, the faint sunlight that shined through the windows he mentally cursed at, as a hangover was evident thanks to the past rough and sleepless nights. After what he said to you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you out of his life from now on. He thought he would feel better after telling you his true feelings, but now…he feels like the complete definition of shit. 

Why did you have to be a Soc? Why did he have to be a greaser? 

Those same questions echoed through his head, but were soon dismissed once loud knocking on the door made him cringe with agony. That headache was no joke. 

Getting up in a huff, he threw the now empty beer can to the ground with a small clank, stomping over to the door. Opening it with such force, it practically left a dent in the wall he slammed it into. The person behind the knocking was none other than Felix himself, who was out of breath from sprinting to the hideout. He knew Peter wouldn’t be at home, there was no reason for his mother to know why he was in such a funk, she never liked you to begin with. When his eyes adjusted to the bright light, Peter glared at his friend, waiting for him to catch his breath. 

“What are you doing here, Felix?” 

The boy couldn’t answer, he was out of too much oxygen. With a roll of his eyes, he invited him in, already making his way to the ‘kitchen’ (which was just a mini fridge in the middle of the living area) and pulled him out a cold one. Felix, noticing the drink in his hand, grabbed it without hesitation, practically gulping it down in one sitting. Finally caught up with his breathing, he spoke. 

“I-I’ve…been worried..sick. Man, I haven’t seen or heard from you since Friday, neither has any of the boys, we thought you’ve gone off somewhere and left town. Are you alright?”

With a slight scoff, Peter sat back on the couch, hands behind his head in an act of relaxation. “Never better. The girl of my dreams rejected me, because she only sees me as filthy trash, what more can a guy ask for?” 

Sighing, Felix scratched his head. “So, I take it you’re not doing alright, then?”

“Why are you really here?” 

“Look, man…I know she hurt ya, real bad, but come on! You can’t just lock yourself in the hideout because of some bitch with her nose so high in the air she can smell Jesus Christ himself.”

Peter shot up from his position on the couch, grabbed Felix by his collar and shoved him into the wall. His once dull eyes filled with hatred and anger in one split second as he stared down the taller boy. 

“Don’t you ever, ever call Y/n ‘some bitch’. She is nothing like those girls we always fooled around with, ya dig? Y/n is more than that, and if-” Before he could finish, Felix was staring at him with a grin that just screamed ‘I knew it.’ Letting him go, Peter backed away with his face in his hands, mentally kicking his own ass for spilling too much, too fast. 

“You’re not over her. You never were and never will be.” He crossed his arms, watching as Peter stared at the ground. “Listen, buddy. I care about you, we’re all we have, the gang is worried, man. If you stay in here and be a sap over Y/n, then you’re practically letting the socs win!”

“I don’t care about no damn socs, alright? I care about Y/n and Y/n only…no matter what I do, or what I say, nothing will change that. Not my mum, not socs, not Thomas…but I’m nothing but a greaser…”

“When has that ever stopped you, huh? Last time I checked if a greaser wanted something, he’d take it. Nobody, no one would tell him he could’t have it or get in his way. A greaser fights for what they want, and if you want Y/n, stop being a pussy and fight!” Felix shoved Peter in the chest roughly, almost making him stumble back. With an irritated look, Peter shoved him back, a fire within him burning yet again. “Oh? You don’t like that? What are you going to do about it, huh?”

Felix shoved him again, only harder. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

One more shove sent him over the limit. He was already angry thanks to the hangover, adding on would be the lack of sleep, and alcohol, so of course he was on the verge of exploding. He just needed the right push.

With a swift motion, Peter socked him in the jaw without warning, sending the greaser smack-dab onto the floor, groaning. With one hand on his jaw to put it back in place, he smirked up at Peter. 

“There’s the fighter!” He stood up with his hand still on his jaw, while patting him on the shoulder with his other. “You want your girl? Fight for her at John’s party tonight.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know those girls that was with Y/n at the drive in? One of them is real sweet on me, and I made her promise that Y/n would be there. Fight for her there, take what’s yours and don’t take no for an answer!”

“Not really the best choice of words,” He shook his head, crossing his arms. “But, alright. I’m down. I could use a night out anyway.” 

“Perfect. Peter Pan is back!” 


Nighttime had finally rolled in, and the worst time to have a party would be a Sunday night. Or maybe it was just another way of saying: ‘We’re going back to hell soon, party like it’s your last.’

Everyone was planning to be there, from greasers, to socs, to mid-class, you name it. From ages fetus to skeleton, anyone was invited to the party. As soon as it got started, you and a few of your friends were dancing it up on the dance floor, having a good time. The music was blaring The Rolling Stones, putting a good vibe to the sour mood you’ve had the past couple of days. You were glad your friends talked you into going, you were kind of skeptical at first. Afraid of running into…you-know-who. 

One of your friend’s tapped your shoulder, bringing you back down to earth. 

“Y/n, this is Franklin,” She gestured to the nerdy mid-class boy, him waving shyly at you. “Franklin here wanted to dance with the prettiest girl at this shindig, and I quickly had to introduce you two.”

“Oh uh, hello. Uhm, that’s a nice thought, but…I think I’m doing fine dancing on my own, thank you-”

“Y/n. We talked about this, you need a new love interest to get your mind off that greaser trash!” She spoke through gritted teeth, suddenly making your blood boil.  

“He’s not greaser trash, Cindy! I wish you would stop calling him that!”

“And I wish you would move on like he did! Open your damn eyes, Y/n, he’s not good enough for you and never will be! I brought you out here tonight to find a guy who isn’t a complete dick, and you’re not making an effort of doing so!”

“You know what, I need a drink. Maybe you and Franklin can get to know each other while I’m gone. I’m sure he likes the prissy and uptight ones, with their skirts shoved up their asses.” 

With that, you walked away from the two, leaving them stunned. That Friday night changed you, that’s for sure. You saw yourself and your life in a new light, and it was either for the better or the worst. All at the same time you were almost raped by the man you thought loved you, only to be saved by the man you never gave the time of day since the 7th grade. Never even got the chance to say thank you, either. Once you finally made it to the drinking table, you prayed this time the punch wasn’t spiked, the last thing you wanted was to be drunk and vulnerable in a house filled with almost complete strangers. 

As you poured yourself some punch, a slight chill ran up and down your spine all of the sudden. The drink soon forgotten as you felt hands caress your waist, down to your bum, and the warmth of someone pressed up against you from behind. You were about to turn around and smack the shit out of whoever dared to touch you in such a way, until a whisper struck your ear. You tensed up stiff once you recognized who it was.

“Miss me, doll?”  

bvccvrdi  asked:

Person A goes non-verbal when they are upset, it makes it really hard to tell Person B what’s wrong. / take it away you JereJean goddess!!!

Here you go! Hope you enjoy! :) :) :)

Jeremy should have known something was wrong the second he walked in the room.

All the lights were off, leaving only the faint glow of the stars Jeremy had placed on his ceiling. He had put them there for Jean’s comfort, knowing that being in total darkness could bring back memories of the Nest.

He made sure to tap on the door before coming in, since Jean obviously didn’t react well to being startled.

“Jean?” he called out. No answer. He walked toward their bed, feeling his way over with the walls and chairs placed around the room. It would be just his luck to trip over something and inadvertently send Jean into a panic. He sat on the floor next to the bed, at this point in their relationship innately knowing without seeing that Jean was curled up in the corner of the bed, trying to keep anything from touching him.

Jeremy lay his hand palm up on the bed. It was their signal. When Jean took it, Jeremy would know that he was ready to talk. When Jean was in the thrall of his memories, he lost track of the world around him and tended to go non-verbal. It was horrifying to Jeremy how he became trapped in his own head.

He winced at every choked off noise that was unable to escape Jean’s throat. His heart ached. He always wished he could do more, be more for Jean. He knew these demons were Jean’s to fight, but he hated that all he could be was damage control after the fact. With Jean, he would always feel like he was too late.

After about half an hour of waiting and trying to soothe Jean by reminding him where he was and that Jeremy was right here and wasn’t going anywhere, he felt Jean’s fingers curl into his and moved to get on the bed, cross legged across from Jean. He was taking in shaky breaths, but he managed to squeeze Jeremy’s hand to let him know he was aware.

“There we go. Come back to me.”

After a long moment, Jean rasped out, “I don’t know why I still get like that.”

Jeremy ran his thumb over Jean’s knuckles. “It doesn’t go away.”

“I wish it would.”

“I know. But you’re so strong. You work through it every time. You beat them every single day by surviving. I’m so proud of you.”

Even with only the dim light of the stars, Jeremy could make out Jean’s faint smile. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

Jeremy exhaled loudly. “Please. This is nothing compared to what you deal with. Remember that time you came home and I accidentally made six dozen cookies and they were all over the kitchen?”

Jean laughed. “I do. And then we ate almost a dozen that night alone?”

“Or when I was so sick that you had to wrap me up like a burrito and watch cooking shows with me all afternoon?”

“I was worried. You were so warm.”

Softly, Jeremy added, “Or when I broke my knee and you helped me keep smiling even when I thought my world was ending. I was so scared, but you were there the whole time. We take care of each other. You’re not a burden. You’re a human. A very special, important human who I love a lot.”

“I love you too.”


After a moment’s pause, Jean asked, “Love of my life?”


“Can I have some water?”

Jeremy laughed. “Of course.”

Baby Love (2)

one  two

        “Keep practicing and enfeeble your tongue, your beat already good, you just need more confident and focus. I know you can do better than so called female idol rapper out there, y/n-ah..” there’s always conclusion and advice from Simon whenever you finished practice with him, despite his busy schedule he willing to set aside his time just for teaching you.

        You nodded obediently and locked your ipad, since practice is over now you can have other conversation beside rap and hip hop with him. You came there with confident, after received a lot of support from your members, you decided to confess today. But before you confessed, you needed to know Simon’s perspective about the little girl so you could move forward or turn down, bury your feeling forever as if it never exist.

         Simon was playing with her phone when you glanced at him, observing your good looking mentor. His thumb scrolled down on his screen phone, probably checking his instagram feed.

          “Oppa..” you called him carefully.

          “Hm?” he immediately answered but his eyes still on his phone.

          You took a deep breath before started, “Can I ask something?”

          “Sure, what’s that about?”

          “Ummm—“ you clutched your fist nervously, “oppa—“ this time you shifted your seat position due your nervousness, you encouraged yourself to look at him, “the little girl that you wrote on your lyric.. can you tell me who is she?” your heart beat faster, waiting for his answer. You scared on what if he didn’t want to tell you?

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