i waited two hours for this

I’m a host at a restaurant and it’s located in a really rich white person neighborhood(I’m talking I literally heard someone unironically ask if an apple was $20 kind of rich) and most of the servers commute from less affluent areas. The locals are all absolute entitled assholes, but one that came in on Easter took the cake.

So this lady comes in, wearing bigass juicy sunglasses, hoop earrings and “the Rachel” haircut. Keep in mind at this time the wait for a table of 2 was 45 minutes to an hour. She struts up in these super tall heels, and asks how long it would be for a table of six. I told her it would be 2 hours.

Oh boy.

She immediately asked to speak to a manager, and told the manager that I was discriminating against her because she was white, and that “that bitch gave the Mexican couple in front of me a 45 minute wait!”(they were actually Japanese(they didn’t look latinx at all either??) and there were 2 of them but ok). The manager kind of just, rolled his eyes and told her it was because there are only two of them, and that we’ll get to her as soon as possible.

We ended up being able to sit her in like, 1.5 hours, and she complained that out quote time wasn’t accurate, and that she was going to leave us an absolutely scathing Yelp review and I just kinda cringed and sat her in one of the nicer server’s section.

She proceeded to complain to the server for five minutes before ordering a salad with the dressing on the side, then yelling at the server for the dressing not being on the salad(????), and called out the manager again, who comped half of her meal and have her a free dessert. She then forgot her credit card in the check presenter, despite me reminding her when walking by her.

She called the restaurant and accused the server of stealing the card, complained she’d have to drive back from x city(it was like a 15 minute drive in traffic) and when she got there, my manager gave her another free dessert.

I was working two days later and she called to speak to our general manager to report the incident, turned out all three had been ignoring her calls because they had bent over backwards to make up for what wasn’t even a mistake in the first place.

The lady didn’t realize she was speaking to the host who had been working when she came in and told me that, “the host up front was being really rude, I know she was talking about me to this Mexican couple sitting near her”(once again this was a Japanese couple, and they were tourists, so i was helping to interpret the menu for them…in Japanese???idk how that sounded like Spanish but ok lady)

I told the manager, and he took the call and told her, “ma'am I don’t know what else I can do to make it up to you, unless you’re expecting me to fire them.”

Three seconds later he said “oh you expect me to fire them.” And he just…hung up, and told me she tried to tell us that the server was most likely an illegal alien.

I literally hate these customers.

AOS Drabble: As you were, honey.

Originally posted by celebritiesandmovies

Just a little drabble-y thing inspired by a conversation with @bkwrm523. Sara always gives me the best prompts. 

Reader is good friends with Jim. Slight AU, here; in this ‘verse, Jim and Len were never roommates in the academy.


“Where the hell have you been, Jim?” you ask, sliding his Andorian whatever-the-fuck across the table. “You’re already two drinks behind.”

It’s already three hours into shore leave, and you’ve been waiting for Jim for ages

Jim flops heavily into the chair. “Got caught up in sickbay again,” he says, shooting you a wink and reaching for his whatsitcalledagain.

You eyeball him closely, cocking your head just slightly to compensate for the subtle spin of the room. “Y’okay?”

“Never better,” Jim’s lips twitch, and he swirls the glass appreciatively between his fingers. “I wasn’t there as a patient. I needed Bones’ report on -”

“I needed Bones,” you interrupt, sniffling a giggle and pressing your hand dramatically to your chest. “God, listen to you.”

Jim leans back in his chair, wrapping his feet around the legs and folding his arms across his chest. “You implying something, Y/N?” he asks slowly, but his tone is easy, teasing.

“Implying,” you repeat incredulously, laying your drink soundly on the table in emphasis. “T, this is a hell of a lot more than implying. I’m about to elicit a confession from you, one way or another.”

“Funny,” Jim gives you an amused smirk, rocking back and forth in his tilted chair. “I thought this was a bar, not a monastery. I should have worn my rosary.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt,” you inform him cheekily.

Jim buries his face in his hands and shakes his head at this. 

You ignore him. “You can’t fool me, Tiberius. You think you’re sly, but I know you. Fuck, I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you making googly-eyes at him across the mess hall, and I’ve seen the way you straighten up when he walks into the room. For that matter, what the hell is he doing on the bridge every damn day, anyway? You guys aren’t even subtle. There is no reason for the Chief -”

“Shhh.” Jim flops his chair back into his proper position and leans forward fast enough to make the table shake. His eyes are sharp, a little darker than they should be. 

Got him.

You lift a smug eyebrow, resting on your elbows until you are face to face, eyeball to eyeball. “And I know all about the incident in the turbolift,” you whisper softly.

Jim is expressionless, motionless, his poker face flawless, but you notice the blood drain from his cheeks. “Oh?” he says, and damn him, his voice is only the tiniest bit strained. 

It’s confirmation enough.

“Yup.” You settle backward, popping the “p,” enjoying the moment. 

Captain James T. Kirk, Starfleet golden boy, sweating bullets. 

It’s a good look on him, and it’s a fucking great feeling for you.

“All the maintenance inquiries land on my desk, Tiberius,” you drawl, swirling your drink, twitching your lips, having the time of your life. “54 minute standstill, all reports negative. You two caused me a fuckton of paperwork.”

“It was malfunctioning, I swear it!” Jim’s eyes are wide now, his expression pleading. “I swear it, Y/N. I was trying to get out out of there.” He lifts his drink to his lips, as if to emphasize his innocence. 

“You were boning Bones’ boner,” you counter smoothly, swallowing a quick sip of screwdriver to cover your giggle.

You are so fucking funny.

Jim chokes on his drink. 

He drops his glass on the table, lifting his hands to his throat and making an awful little retching sound. 

You stand quickly, alarmed.

Then Jim’s coughing, hacking, hissing, spitting, blowing air harshly out his nose. His face is red, and there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

You sit down again, feeling a little pang of sympathy. You’ve inhaled vodka before, and god, that was a singularly excruciating experience. The Andorian whatever-the-fuck that Jim had been drinking is at least twice as strong as anything you’ve encountered on Earth, and your heart goes out to Jim.

You can’t imagine how that must burn.

“Breathe, T,” you say sadly. There’s nothing else that will help him, now, poor soul.

You take another drink, wondering how long it’s gonna take Jim’s sinuses to recover from such a brutal assault. 

The locals look on in silent sympathy. 

“Jim!” A sharp voice cuts through the static of your thoughts.

Deep, heavy, with just an edge of panic and an unmistakeable southern drawl.

You cannot believe your good fortune. 

“Well, speak of the devil,” you murmur softly. 

Where the fuck had Dr. McCoy come from, anyway?

Dr. McCoy is cutting efficiently through the crowd, darting past the milling locals and dodging scattered tables with focused ease. “Jim,” he says again, eyes darting over Jim’s hunched form, hands landing delicately on his shoulders. “What the hell -”

“Bones,” Jim wheezes, staring up at him in shock, then blinking back at you with wide, desperate eyes. “What are you doing?”

You bite your lip hard to stifle a giggle.

Dr. McCoy straightens, relaxing a little now that he’s seen Jim talking. “Enjoying my shore leave, you ass, until some idiot tried to asphyxiate on…”  He rolls his eyes, reaching for Jim’s discarded glass and twisting it incredulously between his fingers. “Jesus, I don’t even know what. What did you do, Jim, try to snort the whole shot?”

Normally, this is when you’d slip quietly out the door, leaving them to their lovers’ spat.

Now, though, with a couple of drinks and your system and such a prime opportunity to observe the captain and the doctor in their natural roles?

Not a chance in hell.

You fold your arms across your chest, leveling Jim with your very best shit eating grin.

He meets your gaze head-on, daring you to speak, but the steely effect is ruined somewhat by his wet, red-rimmed eyes and Len’s fussing.

“As you were, honey,” you crow, nodding pointedly toward Dr. McCoy, who’s  produced a tricorder  from somewhere and is waving it determinedly under Jim’s nose. “Don’t mind me.”

“Idiot,” Dr. McCoy mutters under his breath. He packs away the tricorder, seems to notice you for the first time. “Hello, Y/N.”

He’s not your type, not by a long shot, but his eyes are dark and his voice is warm, and you understand, suddenly, what Jim sees in him. “Doctor,” you find yourself grinning back. You tip back the last of your drink, laying your glass carefully on the table and rising smoothly. “I told Chris and Ny I’d meet them for billiards,” you apologize, shooting Jim a heavy look. 

Don’t screw this up

“I’ll see you boys later.”

You squeeze Jim’s shoulder as you pass by. “Tab’s under you, T.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jim responds, reaching up to tap your forearm.

Message received. 

“Because you owe me and you know it.” You can feel Dr. McCoy’s eyes on you, watching the exchange carefully, can damn near sense the wheels turning furiously in his head.

You shoot him a wink, and his brow furrows ever so subtly as you sashay out of the bar.

Really, Jim could do a lot worse.

Link to Anna’s masterlist here.

What can I get you? Part 3 (Yondu x reader)

Continuation of my What Can I Get You? Series


You couldn’t wait until Yondu came back. He had been gone longer than usual and you admittedly missed him. You liked what the two of you had. Although you didn’t know much about him you really did like him.

Little did you know Yondu had come back on your day off. He had asked about you for about an hour before someone finally knew where you were. Another waitress had switched shifts with you so you could go shopping. Instead of going back to the ship he decided to give his men a few days off.

You were walking around the market searching for something that would catch your eye. You already had a full basket of fresh produce that had been calling to you. You were looking at some pretty necklaces when someone touched your shoulder. You whipped around quickly seeing Yondu.

“Hey there darlin’.” He grinned.

“Yondu. I’m surprised to see you outside of a bar.” You said your smile woven throughout your voice.

“I like me these little trinkets. Like to line em up on my control console.” He said motioning to the trinkets at the stall.

You smiled softly at him and touched the necklace you had been looking at again. He watched you curiously for a minute before holding a hand out.

“Why don’t ya let me carry that for ya? That way ya can look at more stuff.” He offered pointing to the basket.

“Hm. Should I let a space pirate carry my things? Sounds like something that might not turn out well for me.” You responded a grin on your face.

“I’ll give ya my word. Ain’t never gonna steal from ya.” He said taking the basket from your hand.

You didn’t try to fight back letting him take the heavy basket. You left that stand knowing you couldn’t afford that necklace. The two of you walked around the market for a long time teasing each other and just talking. You were happier than you’d been in a while. As it started to get late you let him walk you to your apartment. You took your basket back from him and set it down inside the door before shutting it behind you keeping him out.

“Thank you for carrying my basket. Nothing like a big strong man to help me out.” You teased.

“Why don’t ya let a big strong man in then? I can help ya out with some other things too.” He grinned putting a hand next to your head on the closed door.

You couldn’t help the sharp inhale before your grin. You leaned up kissing the corner of his mouth. He leaned in trying to get a little more but you stepped around opening the door and quickly closing it behind you.

Yondu stood outside the door for a minute before shaking his head and walking back to the market. Yeah you were gonna be the death of him for sure. He stopped at the same stall he had found you at looking at the necklace you had been playing with. He was staring for a minute before the stall owner spoke.

“What can I get you?” He asked.

Things I Didn’t Know Were Symptoms of C-PTSD
  • Getting overwhelmed in crowds
  • Getting upset or angry at a loud alarm
  • Ordinary nightmares (that have nothing to do with the circumstances, just stupid nightmares much more often than the average person)
  • Getting sharp pains in your back/neck/collarbones that make it hard to breathe (due to hypervigilance/constant high anxiety)
  • Learning that “high anxiety” does not mean “generalized anxiety” like other people have with panic attacks and not feeling that they can accomplish thing. PTSD anxiety just means this frenetic energy that makes you want to talk/think/do things (even as an introvert) to avoid stopping.
  • Feeling constantly bored like you have to chase after something, even if you’re just at home: I spend hours on tumblr, pinterest, watching tv, reading books, making art, never just laying there alone…because if you stop…the darkness is there
  • Thinking up stories before bed. This is a symptom of high anxiety because you’re trying to calm down and fall asleep in a “safe world” where people are looking out for you and caring for you.
  • Trouble falling asleep (which is distinct from insomnia) because turning off electronics etc. doesn’t help since your heartrate/fight or flight response is engaged
  • Periods of racing heart (mine has gotten to 120bpm for five hours) that make you feel like you’re waiting for something to happen
  • Exaggerated startle response. When I was a kid I used to hide behind corners to surprise my sisters. Two years ago my friend hid under my desk to scare me. I literally screamed, fell out of the chair, and started crying. She was laughing because she thought the joke went well, and then got concerned because I kept crying.
  • Purposefully “tanking” a bad day with sad music/tv/movies/books because it “was already ruined anyway”
youtube

17TH OF MAY SPECIAL

THE GUYS: Dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab!!

[HEY BRISKEBY]

MUTASIM: Yes, we love…* Today, it’s the 18th of May, so we’re going to have a, boom, 17th of May special.

ELIAS: What are you doing?

MUTASIM: Bro..

ELIAS: You know this is my Youtube channel, right? And then you come with this 17th of May stuff..

MUTASIM: Look, look, look how tired this guy is and I’m like fresh.

MIKAEL: He has a bowtie.

MUTASIM: Bowtie! I got this, understand?

MIKAEL: [Singing]

ELIAS: But what’s the thing with the 17th of May? Why do we celebrate the 17th of May?

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Viktor-sans-Yuuri is an “I want to go home” type of drunk

When they’re together, Viktor and Yuuri are definitely ‘oh dear oh god oh no’ type of drunk. The worst of bad influences on each other. One-tequila-two-tequila-three-tequila-floor type drunk. They’re let’s play stripping games in this club type drunk. It’s literal canon at this point and we are #blessed to have had this knowledge bestowed upon us.

But Viktor by himself rolls up on a club and is like “Waddup I want my HUSBAND do u feel me??”

Yuuri by himself mostly reverts back to his old drunk self–mostly a normal person, kind of sad, does the same stupid shit only by himself–but catch a singular Viktor sitting at a table by himself, squinting into the distance and waiting for someone to tell him he can go home .

I miss you 😢😢😢 he texts Yuuri when he’s only been gone for an hour.

We agreed that you would stay there for two hours Yuuri texts back. You’re halfway there, baby. Don’t give up now.

“Aren’t you glad to be out of the house?” asks someone, probably someone Viktor doesn’t like very much, probably one of the sponsors Viktor is currently trying to shmooze. “God, it’s good to be away from the ball and chain! You’re married now, Nikiforov, you understand.”

“Literally the only thing I want to do right now is go home and hug my husband for an entire hour,” Viktor tells him, mournfully scrolling up his text history with Yuuri. “I miss him so much.”

“Did Viktor’s…husband… die?” that guy asks a colleague across the room several minutes later. “He’s acting like he…died?”

“No, Petrovich, he just married someone he actually likes.”

Viktor is now staring deep into a champagne cocktail. “Yuuri loves these,” he says.

“Are you totally sure,” says Petrovich, “That his husband didn’t die.”

“I saw him in an elevator on Tuesday.”

Petrovich watches Viktor down the entire champagne cocktail. “I thought only strippers drank those things.”

FUTURE HEARTS | PT.6 [M]

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | pt6 | (6/?)

pairing: jimin x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: smut, angst / punk!jikook

word count: 17,335

note: inspired by the anime/manga “Nana” / music playlist

description: It was everything, from his tattoos, to his touches, to the way sweat rolled down his neck as he strummed into his guitar on stage; everything about him completely enthralled you. So why are you now, two and a half years later, on a train to Seoul, telling a complete stranger the recollection of how you became fated to forever have scars on all of your future hearts due to the happiness, but most of all the pain, that came along with falling in love with Jeon Jungkook.

cr.


The slight tremble in Jimin’s fingertips developed into a full-blown tremor as he closed the door to his studio, effectively leaving you behind — but it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that simple because he wasn’t just leaving you behind. He was leaving you behind with a guy that you were completely in love with… Which kind of blowed considering he was starting to fall for you himself.

The music from the party was reverberating inside of his chest and he knew that his ears should be ringing with anger, but instead he just felt numb. It was like he couldn’t hear anything; no music, no crowd, nothing. It was all one giant blur that didn’t seem to make sense to him, and all because his mind was screaming that nothing else mattered right now — nothing except for you.

Jimin knew very well what leaving you in that room with Jungkook meant. It meant every single feeling that the two of you had ever had for each other would inevitably rekindle, and compared to what Jimin had with you, even if he did consider it one of most amazing stints of time of his entire life, it didn’t hold a candle to what you and Jungkook had, and probably always would have.

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Truth May Vary

Yes, hi, excuse me, passing through, dropping crap all over the fandom. 

Hi. So, I did the prompt! @pink-paladin-lance hope you like it, tho I didn’t made it as angsty bc I craved fluffiness and well, …yeah. Hope you like it anyways!

Ps. Long Post. So yeah! No warnings? Just mean aliens, psh. 

Nothing much to say? Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me and the idea come from @pink-paladin-lance (:

Edit: ….Did i fixed it the damn problem or? 


“Alright! Another win for Voltron!” Hunk shouts animatedly as he wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulder, shaking him as he cheers, “Did you guys see how Keith dodged that laser beam when one of the Galras tried to sneak up on him? Keith, buddy, that was amazing! You totally flipped them!”

Keith laughs as he takes off his helmet and brushes Hunk’s praise off. “What? No, come on! Are you kidding? Were you even present when your Lion completely crushed that rock and saved the entire village? Because I was and it was out of this planet, man.”

“Okay, guys, but I think I speak for everyone that the best part was when we formed Voltron and we completely destroyed that Robeast because Shiro’s plan was on point!” Pidge cuts in, grinning behind her shoulder to meet their leader, “If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, the battle would have taken a lot longer.”

Shiro chuckles from his place besides Allura and waves the compliments off with a hand. “No way. The plan was a success because your plants held the Robeast long enough for us to make a move, Pidge. You have been improving a lot since the day we found of about your Lion’s power.”

Lance watches from the sidelines as he stands besides Coran, a few feet away from the team. He smiles fondly as he hears them cheer and praise each other, their adrenaline and enthusiasm that always come from a winning battle still running through their blood.

“Wait, wait, but did you guys notice when Lance –” Keith’s sentence is suddenly cut off when the Prince of the Royal Family from the Kingdom they just saved clears his throat abruptly, catching everyone’s attention and making Keith’s proud grin to dim, replacing it with a frown.

“On behalf of my people and my Mother, I would like to express our gratitude towards the brave Paladins of Voltron who saved us today and forevermore, for it is their duty to defend and serve this Universe from the claws of evil.” The Prince says, voice high and powerful.

He stares into each of the Paladin’s eyes before they fall on Allura. “Princess Allura, please, as a thank you, allow us to escort you and the entire team to our Castle in order to present you an exquisite and well deserved banquet in your honor.”

Allura smiles and opens her mouth to respond but Lance’s voice beats her to it.

“Sure, dude!” He shouts happily, walking a few steps until he’s standing beside Allura and Shiro. “A banquet is always appreciated! I mean, Voltron really kicked some serious ass today if you know what I mean.” Lance can hear the way his team groan and chuckle at his words, too used to Lance’s cocky facade and he can feel Allura’s playful smack of her hand on his ribs.

Lance’s grin fades when the Price stares down at him unamused and something inside him drops unpleasantly.

“Blue…Paladin, of course.” The Prince says, a bore and uninterested tone on the back of his tone as he forces a rigid polite smile, “While I agree with you on the fact that Voltron surely won this battle by their own hands, I have to ask…”

He pauses, letting his words linger in the air as he takes a step towards Lance and clicks his tongue.

“Why are you on the team? I’m sure that your … talents, if you even have some, can be of much assistance back in the Castle.”

Lance’s smile falls and he hears the way someone behind him takes a sharp intake of breath but Lance doesn’t bother to turn around to found out who exactly.

“Well, I am the Blue Paladin. I have to be where the team is, of course.” Lance says, mouth twitching in what he hopes to be a smile but ends up being a grimace.

The Prince clicks his tongue once again and shakes his head as if in disappointment. “Ah, my apologies, Blue Paladin. I had just assumed that you were just filling the spot for the time being until the true Blue Paladin claimed the title.”

Lance doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening behind his back. He can feel the tense air that has settled on the team. He can hear the hard shallow pants from Hunk’s end as the Yellow Paladin tries to suppress the urge to lunge at the Prince. He can hear the soft faint sound of Shiro’s arm activating itself along with Keith’s bayard. He can even feel Pidge’s deathly glare that goes through him to get to their target that is the Prince.

He feels the grip of Allura’s hand on his suit tighten and the way Coran’s hand find its way until it’s resting on his shoulder.

But the Prince doesn’t. He doesn’t see, feel or sense any of what Lance does because they are not his team, they are Lance’s.

The Prince continues.

“No offense, Blue Paladin, but I had actually thought that Princess Allura here was the rightful Paladin for the Blue Lion. Having her leadership and power aside, she seems to be such a good fit for the title.”

Lance doesn’t disagree.

“Of course, I might be wrong. After all, there must be a reason why you are fighting besides Voltron itself. I speak out only because I believe your talents have been blurred by being surrounded by such powerful people and I’m merely concerned about the efficiency in future battles, thinking that your efforts may not be good enough –”

Lance can’t even come up with a response because suddenly there’s a body rushing past him and then Keith is standing there, pressing his Marmora Blade against the Prince’s neck.

“Would you like to say that again? Just to make sure I have the right motive to make you regret those words?” Keith hisses, face inches away from the Prince’s.

“Keith.” Coran calls, sharp and with a hidden warning, “Step back from the Prince, right now, Young Paladin.”

“But Coran –!”

Right now.

Keith growls but ends up taking a step back, his scowl deep in his face as he glares at the Prince from a distance.

“Prince Yult,” Allura says, voice tight and on edge as she releases Lance’s suit and takes a step forward, “While we appreciate your hospitality, you have no right to –”

“Princess Allura, if I may?” Lance cuts off, quiet but firm as he raises his chin high, staring at her evenly.

Allura stares right back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she nods.

“Prince Yult.” Lance addresses respectfully and waits until the royal nods at him before he continues, “I can understand your confusion about my position as a Paladin and your concern around the topic. My team’s talent and power is unmeasured and it’s not something anyone can live up to.”

“Lance…” Keith mumbles behind him but Lance continues.

“Which is why I must ask of you, not to doubt my team’s efficiency based on their one weakness that is me.”

“Lance, that’s enough.” Shiro snaps, low and dangerous but Lance doesn’t stop.

“Rest reassured, your highness.” Lance smiles, tight and forced, “That Voltron shall continue winning more battles and I will not be a liability to the team.”

“Buddy, come on, stop –”

“Now, if you excuse me, your highness.” Lance says, cutting Hunk’s plead short, “I shall take my leave. I’m sure the rest of the team would love to meet the Queen, but I sadly need to go back to the Castle and stand guard.”

Lance doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns around, ignoring the way Keith reaches out to him and how the rest of the team calls his name.

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Commission for @gerdavonrinnlingen of her Sith Warrior Ringa and Quinn’s reunion! Basically a sequel to this :3

ink-stained skin // reggie mantle soulmate au

Ink-stained Skin

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Reggie attempts to contact his soulmate through words written on his skin. (Y/N) attempts to push her soulmate away.

masterlist

(Y/N) sighed as the writing appeared on her skin. It had read:

‘I got football captain!‘ 

with a smiley face drawn at the end. Pushing herself up from her seat, she made her way towards the bathroom in hope of getting rid of the ink incorporated into her skin. It had been the third time in a week that her soulmate had written to her and it had been the third time in a week she had ignored the words he wrote.

She didn’t want to push him away but she also didn’t want to be with Reggie Mantle, the guy, who on most days had an iQ lower than her six year old cousin. Sure, he was built like a God and sure, he had enough sporting ability to make up for the lack of hers but she couldn’t be with him. Of course, she couldn’t be with him, not when they spent ever waking moment disagreeing over the simplest things. She knew it was him, however she tried her hardest to hide her identity from him.

He had tried to figure out who the person he was destined to be with ever since he realised that they existed.

He was eight when he first realised that his soulmate existed. Unlike the rest of his friends, he didn’t have a name etched into his skin, neither did he have a countdown on the wrist of his prominent arm. To Reggie, there was no sign of him having a soulmate. Until the very day, he saw a messy sketch of what seemed to be a rose appear on his right forearm during math class. He gazed around the room, wondering if it was anyone he already knew. Every year since, on the exact date, a rose appeared on his right forearm.

The sign of his soulmate’s existence that caused him to reach out to them occurred when he was thirteen. He felt a pain in his ankle that caused him to drop to the ground in the midst of a soccer game, clutching it in hopes it would stop the pain.

Later that evening, he picked up the purple sharpie that sat atop of his wooden desk and pressed it against his skin, doodling a frowning face, following it with the words:

‘I hope u r okay.’

He sat waiting for a response from his soulmate, shaking his leg impatiently. He sat waiting for a response; after an hour of waiting, he attempted to contact her again, etching the words:

‘ur probably asleep, i hope u get well soon’ 

and followed it with a doodle of himself.

She stared at his writing, only just noticing how messy it was. Analysing it closely, she realised it was his writing. It was Reggie Mantle’s writing. She recognised it from anywhere. Who wouldn’t recognise their lab partner’s writing?

It had been two weeks since Reggie had wrote to (Y/N) informing him of his new title as the captain of the Riverdale bulldogs.

She felt upset but she didn’t know why. She wasn’t that into Reggie. Looking down at her arm, she noticed a drawing of a sad face followed with the words:

'silent treatment?’

She let out a small laugh at the words, deciding it would be an appropriate time to reply. After eight years of ignoring him, she finally replied to his words.

'never’

She sighed, maybe she had judged Reggie before even giving him a chance. “Oh god, what’s gotten you in this state? Is it Mantle?” Kevin spoke, earning his best friend’s attention. “So when are you going to fuck him?”

(Y/N) spun around in her chair and dragged herself toward him and smacked his arm. “I hate you.”

“Does he even know his infamous soulmate is you?”

“No and he’s not going to find out until we graduate!”

(Y/N) was about to join Kevin on her bed, when she felt a tickling sensation on her left forearm. She smiled at his response, his words making him seem like an excited child during Christmas.

Reggie looked down at his arm, smiling to himself. She had finally written back. “Dude, she wrote back.” he grinned “Andrews, she finally wrote back!”

“I’m happy for you, cap but coach wants us on the field.”

He spent all of practise counting down the minutes until he could reply to his soulmate. He was unsure whether his soulmate was a female or a male but it never really mattered to him.

After showering, he picked up a pen only to notice that his soulmate had drawn a small rabbit on her left wrist. For most of the eight years he knew of his soulmate’s existence, he had always thought that they were left handed, as the drawing of the rose always seemed to appear on his right forearm. He took his place next to Archie, waiting for coach Clayton to enter the locker room with the information about their next game.

Archie looked over at his smitten captain, knowing that there was no way he would be paying attention to a word their Coach had said, too infatuated with the new drawing on his arm. “She actually wrote back. What is she doing?” he mumbled to himself, pulling his phone out from the back pockets of his jeans, wanting to text her.

Reggie was pulled out of his trance as he heard Archie’s mumbled words, his eyes widening slightly, Archie must’ve known who his soulmate was. “She? You know my soulmate!”

“Reggie, calm down, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reggie nudged Archie playfully “Tell me.”

“No.”

(Y/N) could barely react before Kevin snatched her phone off her and answered Archie’s incoming call. She let out a groan, knowing that it would be related to Reggie.

“You’re writing back to Reggie? (Y/N), that’s a disaster waiting to happen.” Archie exclaimed as soon as she answered, causing Kevin to laugh. “You’ll never be able to hide your identity from him until graduation if you continue replying.”

“My god, Andrews, you sound like you’re in the midst of a mental breakdown.” Kevin scoffed “Plus, she’s only just started drooling over Mantle.”

“I’m coming over! I’m bringing food!”

Reggie sat in his car waiting for Moose to get back with their food. Looking at himself in the rear-view mirror, he noticed a bruise had formed on his bicep. Instantly, he picked up a pen and wrote to her, drawing a winking face

'how did u get ur bruise? hope you haven’t been fighting’

Within a few seconds, his soulmate had already responded.

'SORRY!!!! the door handle was a lot higher than i expected. hope you didn’t feel it.’

Reggie let out a small laugh, not even realising that Moose had joined him in the car.

“Dude, you’re whipped and you don’t even know who this person is. What if it’s some old dude who’s kidnapped your soulmate and is trying to lure you to his house?” Moose groaned. “You did order a steak burrito right?”

A new semester meant new classes, new activities. (Y/N) slumped into her seat during home room, Kevin to her right and Reggie sat behind him. He glanced up from his desk, only to be met with Kevin, whose head instantly shot back to face his best friend.

“Got a problem, Keller?” He spoke, earning a scoff from (Y/N) “You too, (L/N)?”

“Don’t inflate your ego any further there, Reginald. It might burst.” (Y/N) responded, turning back to face the front, not wanting to speak to him any further.

(Y/N) then realised the reason why she had been so hesitant to reveal who she was to him. It was because he was one of the most egotistical people she knew and the person she spoke to through her ink-stained skin was nothing like the person she knew.

As soon as the bell rang, (Y/N) pushed herself out in attempt to beat the crowd that would be gathering in front of her locker. As she rushed, she failed to weave through the desk, hitting her hip on the corner. She let out a groan, clutching her hip instantly.

Reggie felt the pain grow in his hip as he watched (Y/N) try to groan and walk the pain out. His eyes widening and a gasp falling from his lips.

“It’s you. You’re my soulmate.”

peer tutor || montgomery de la cruz

request: Pretty please with a cherry on top can you write something with Montgomery where the reader is a shy/sweet/innocent/nerd !!!! Love you sooo much 💕
pairing: (y/n) x montgomery
word count: 1 173
notes: okay this is v rushed and v not good and i feel terrible and my content is not quality okay cool
listen to: til’ kingdom come - coldplay

Originally posted by despairingfever

“(Y/N), can I please speak to you and Montgomery in the classroom?”

You, the sweet, introverted, band geek, were just finishing packing up everything from your locker for the long weekend, until you were interrupted by your teacher, who was busy talking to Montgomery De La Cruz, the cocky, extroverted, asshole jock.

Quickly bidding Alex Standall, your closest friend, goodbye, you picked up your bass and backpack, and made your way into the classroom with the teacher and Montgomery, who might I add, was staring holes into your back the entire time.

“Look, Montgomery. I’m going to make it very clear that you are on the rim of failing my class. You’re passing, currently, with a 53%. I’m also going to make it very clear that the likelihoods of you getting into any college with a mark below a 60% in English is very, very slim.”

You had a slight idea of where this conversation was going, and as much as you found Montgomery physically attractive, he had a personality that definitely did not match his looks.

“(Y/N), you may know where I’m heading with this topic, but I want you to tutor Montgomery in English, until he gets his marks up to at least a 70%. I’ve already talked to him briefly about having a peer tutor, and he specifically asked for you. Now, what’s in it for you, is that this could potentially be used as extra-credit. As well as volunteer hours which look stunning on university applications, especially UCDavis.”

Your eyes widened, stunned at the idea that Montgomery wanted you as his peer tutor.

What am I to him? Why would he want me as his peer tutor?

Sure, you could sometimes feel his eyes on you in class or in the cafeteria, but you only thought of it as him looking at you because your the shy, quiet girl who doesn’t talk at all to anyone except Alex Standall; who’s practically Montgomery’s worst enemy.

You looked over at him, and saw his hazel eyes boring straight into your (e/c) eyes with a smile gracing his face.

Not his usually cocky,
or lusty,
or arrogant smile.

But a genuine smile that seemed to convey so much more than what it held.

And it was at that moment you broke. “Yes, Ms. Clark, I would be more than willing to help Mr. De La Cruz with English.”

Montgomery seemed to release a breath that he was keeping in for the past minutes and the teacher clapped her hands happily. “Perfect, okay! You’ll start today, I’ve reserved a table for the two of you in the library, happy studying!” She ushered you out of the class and shut the door on you before you could object.

Her quick change in behaviour slightly startled you, but you took nothing important of it.

You shuffled from on your feet awkwardly, not knowing how to approach the situation of talking to an attractive boy that seemed to show some interest in you. “Should we… go to the library?”

Montgomery smiled at your awkwardness and let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, we should.” And with that the two of you began your silent trek to the place of quiet and learning.

You were quite comfortable with silence, Montgomery, however, was not.

“So, you play the bass? I used to play, when I was smaller.” You immediately piped up at his incorrect grammar and fixed him.

“Younger, actually. You used to play when you were younger, not smaller…” Trailing off, you realized what you had said and thought that you had ruined your chances of being able to befriend him.

“Right, right, see? I’m glad I have you now as a tutor. To fix all my mistakes.”

The two of you exchanged a smile and walked in silence to the library.

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Scene in Trailer of Clarke/Bellamy/Abby
  • Clarke looks on in angst away from Bellamy and Abby.
  • Abby: psst did you ask her out yet?
  • Bellamy: no I'm waiting for the right time
  • Abby: I'm sorry did the impending doom of the apocalypse lead you to believe you had time? Do you suddenly think weddings can be planned in two hours? Get it together Bellamy I don't have time for this.
  • Bellamy: I...
  • Abby: Get. It. Together.
Monkey

Once upon a time, my dear friend Palak @stylishmuser had a dream. She told me that dream and then, within the same day, this video happened. I’m here to put that dream into words. Please enjoy.

Also, @stylesunchained…I dared. I’m sorry.

————————————————————————————————

Harry was waiting patiently for someone on the other end of the phone to answer his call. He had called exactly when he always did; 6:30 on the dot in London, which was half an hour before his daughter went to bed. The nightly ritual had been the same for the past two weeks; he would call before bedtime, talk to his little girl as soon as she had her pajamas on, say goodnight before you tucked her in, and then call back after she was asleep and talk to you until his eyes started to droop. It wasn’t ideal - he would have much rather been home with the two of you - but it was better than nothing.

The familiar and sweet sound of your voice finally echoed in his ears and he saw your face pop up on the tiny screen.

“Hey you,” you smiled, “How are you?”

“Tired,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes a bit to keep them focused, “Lots of meetings and interviews today. Is she still up?”

“Of course. I’ve just had her run and brush her teeth; she should be out soon, she knows what time it is.”

Another few minutes went by as you and Harry talked about what had been going on, but you knew Harry was getting antsy to talk to someone else. As much as he loved conversations with you, he only had a limited time with his daughter before she fell asleep.

“(Y/D/N)!” you called, turning your head, “Daddy’s on the phone and he’s waiting for you!”

It was only a few seconds before the thumping of tiny feet could be heard running down the hallway. A moment later, Harry saw the wild hair of his three-year-old appear in frame and he chuckled.

“Hi, monkey,” he said, waving.

“Hi daddy!”

“I miss you. How are you?”

“I’m good. I went to Nana’s today and Auntie Gem was there!”

Harry grinned. “Was she? That sounds like fun. Did she let you play salon with her hair again?”

His daughter nodded, excitedly. That was one thing Harry was so thankful for; a sister who didn’t care if her niece wanted to poke, prod, braid or twist her hair within an inch of its life. Gemma was always game for a little ‘toddler spa day’.

“Daddy, guess how many more days!!”

“Hmm,” Harry thought, “I don’t know. Tell me.”

She held up both hands, folding two fingers down.

“Only this many! An’ then you’ll be home, daddy!”

Keep reading

BTS as quotes from my co-workers pt. 2
  • Seokjin: "I got two hours of sleep because I was worried sick, sitting up waiting for my son to come home."
  • Yoongi: "I say a lot of bad things to you guys, but I don't think I can top 'kill yourself'."
  • Hoseok: "I am not satisfied, but I'm still smiling."
  • Namjoon: "I've fallen in this kitchen four times and I do not plan on falling again." *hobbles out of the room*
  • Jimin: "Oh, you missed me. It's been a month I can tell. I just know it, you definitely missed me."
  • Taehyung: "You know that Michael Jackson song, Smooth Criminal? That's me. Check my pockets." *reveals 50 butter patties*
  • Jungkook: "They say you can't leave until a quarter after five, but when you're this good who cares."
Sneak Pt. 2 [M]

Summary: Power and seduction are a lethal mix, especially when you work at one of the world’s most powerful corporations. But be careful, because someone is always watching. 

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: ceo!namjoon, dom/sub themes, smut, angst

Word Count: 7,253

A/N: this is unedited. I can’t look at it any longer as this took me 2 weeks to write. If there any mistakes, please let me know haha

Originally posted by jackjacky5

Part 1 Part 2

You run your fingertips along the tender parts of your neck. A knot had formed under your skin weeks ago. You really needed to get that checked out, but you also really needed to meet your deadline. At this point your work was more important than your health. There was a lot riding on this project, a possible entire rebranding of one of the most powerful companies in the world. And you were the one responsible.

There were times when you were in the middle of a long stretch of work when the night on his desk would flash through your mind. You would think about the wood pressed against your back in the middle of analyzing sales figures for the past 10 years. You could feel his breath on your throat in the middle of sending one of board members a strongly worded e-mail.

You hated how every touch was imprinted in the back of your brain. The asshole in Armani was in your head every time you closed your eyes. Your body started to tingle every time you passed by his office, knowing that maple desk was on the other side of it’s walls.

You hated it.

You hadn’t seen him since that night. He was conveniently shipped out overseas to check on some of the international branches of the corporation he inherited. You were glad, for the most part. It gave you time to detach yourself from that night and bury yourself in your work. Hoping that by the time he came back to the office you wouldn’t want to shove him against a wall and repeat the night on the desk.

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