this was actually the day i got my first shoulder tattoo

This is for @uncannycookie since I asked if they wanted anything and they requested something about Mob going with Teruki to get his ears pierced, so here it is!

But then I also found I wanted to do the entire scene and I didn’t have time to draw it all so… I wrote fanfiction for the first time in my entire life. Writing is very much not my forte so I hope I didn’t make too many mistakes. I just thought it was a cute fluffy scene. Ummm, I hope you like it! *screaming over writing*


“You didn’t have to come you know,” Teruki said as he opened the door, a bell gently chiming above them. “It’s going to be fairly quick to get done.” He held the door open for Mob before shutting it behind them, leaving behind a crisp Autumn day and becoming encased in the warm, dark interior of the shop.

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sirius black (age 16-21)
  • wears eyeliner
  • always has a rubber band for his hair on his right wrist
  • got a muggle tattoo gun secondhand and enchanted it so he could make his tattoos move (see: a moon that changes shape according to the current phase)
  • loves boys
  • especially remus
  • people thought he was dating james for years - so much so that they were surprised when he was actually confirmed to be dating remus
  • likes stealing his boyfriend’s sweaters
  • braids lily’s hair and lets lily braid his
  • didn’t cut his hair at all over his first year at hogwarts; when he came back home over the summer (to get clothes before going to stay with the potters) his mom told him to cut it and his response was to never cut it again
  • can sing
  • wanted to start a band called ‘the marauders’
  • gives kisses to everyone when leaving a room, especially peter, because it makes him slightly uncomfortable
  • gives everyone matching marauders tattoos on their left shoulders
  • has asked both dumbledore and mcgonagall on dates
  • mcgonagall: get out of here and stop being ridiculous black
  • dumbledore: ah sirius i’ve already promised my heart to one james potter
  • paints his nails and got detention for flipping someone off after they told him it was ‘a girl thing’
  • has a reputation as a heartbreaker for some reason, when he’s never dated anyone
  • they seem to think he ‘leads them on’ when he’s been hung up on remus since their third year
  • used to scare frank longbottom, still doesn’t know why
  • hung a poster of a muggle girl for the following reasons
    • the fact that she was a muggle would piss off his parents
    • he knew they’d get even more pissed if he hung a poster of a muggle boy, but he wasn’t ready to tell them he was gay
  • has convinced his friends to go to muggle music festivals during the summer more then once, during which has gotten both flowers braided into his hair and into several fights
  • wants to kiss remus so badly sometimes his hands shake and his heart aches
  • nothing happens until remus has a particularly bad transformation and they’re sitting in the shrieking shack after he’s back to his human form and peter and james have gone to the kitchens to get food to bring back and he has his arm around remus’ shoulders and remus is leaning into him wrapped in a blanket and suddenly he looks up and sees sirius looking at him with an expression that looks like it belongs on the face of someone in a fucking nicholas sparks movie and he grabs sirius by the chin and kisses him hard and sirius is so shocked he doesn’t respond at all for half a second then he sighs into remus’ mouth and they make out for a solid fifteen minutes until james and peter come back with the food and they just hear from the door ‘jesus christ, i was worried they wouldn’t do it this year’ ‘shit, wormy, i owe you ten galleons’
  • obsesses over his best man duties when james asks him
  • feels both proud and slightly guilty that the other boys aren’t in the same position as him so he tries not to gloat
  • tries to get james to use sleekeazy’s hair potion at his wedding, fails
  • does lily’s hair and calm’s james’ nerves and ties remus’ tie and gets the dirt stain out of peter’s pants from where he fell thirty minutes before the ceremony
  • makes a killer fuckin speech with absolutely no editing or censorship and gets scandalized looks from family members but cheers from their hogwarts friends
  • loves his friends so so much and is willing to die for them
  • knows things are probably about to go to shit because they could all die any day now but for now relishes in the best day they’ve had and probably will have for a while

anonymous asked:

"You dont want me" ladynoir

Ladybug sat at the top of the Eiffel Tower, her head in her hands, wondering how she could have possibly screwed things up SO badly. 

She heard the light footfall of her partner landing behind her. She couldn’t say she was surprised, he had never been one to leave her to stew in her own misery. 

“So…” he drawled, coming and sitting beside her, “that was an interesting broadcast today.” 

“It was a disaster,” she moaned, still not looking up at him, “I should just throw myself off this tower and put myself out of my misery.” 

“Oh come on, it’s not as bad as all that,” Chat said, patting her awkwardly on the back. 

She turned and glared at him. “It was a live stream, Chat! LIVE! It’s out there. Right now!” 

“True,” he conceded, nodding his head, “but it’s not like you said anything horrible. It was kinda cute actually.” 

“You don’t understand,” she moaned, slumping over so until she was curled up in his lap, “I’ve ruined everything! What sort of an idiot starts babbling about their crush on a live broadcast.” 

“Well, apparently you,” Chat said with a light laugh, cautiously reaching forward to play with the ends of her hair, “and about half of the rest of the known world. It could be a lot worse buginette.” 

“Do you think there is a chance he didn’t see it?” she asked hopefully, looking up at her partner’s thoughtful expression. 

He gave her a pitying smile. “I think you’re pretty much out of luck their bugaboo. You already have a ship name and everything. It’s trending on twitter.” 

“Ugh, that’s terrible,” she groaned, curling up tighter and burying her face against his leg. 

“I don’t know,” Chat teased, “I thought Ladrien had kind of a nice ring to it.” 

“This can’t be happening,” she moaned. 

“Hey, come on. What’s this really about? Is it really going to be so awful for the guy to know you like him? He might be flattered.” 

“It’s not that,” Ladybug said softly, “I mean, it’s MORE than that. I haven’t even told him I liked him- as myself, my not Ladybug self I mean. And now… let’s say he does feel flattered? That just means I have made myself my own competition! And it’s not like I can just go up to him and be like: Hey, by the way I’m Ladybug and, as you already know, I’m totally in love with you! Want to date me now?” 

“Oh god,” Chat said with a sudden sense of horror, “there are going to be so many desperate fangirls trying to do that.” 

“I didn’t even think about that! If he didn’t before he’s definitely going to hate me now. I might be the only person in the world who can simultaneously confess to her crush and make it harder for him to notice me!”  

“You really are one of a kind there bugaboo,” Chat said giving her another reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“And what if this puts him in danger? I mean I might as well have stamped a butterfly tattoo across his back saying property of Ladybug, please exchange for one miraculous!” 

“Please don’t do that. I am told that models need to be very particular about what they put on their skin.” 

“It’s not funny. What if I honestly made him a target?”

“Hey,” Chat said “I promise you, if anything happens I will be the first person on the scene.” 

“Thanks,” she said gratefully, reaching up and catching his hand in her own.

“So, you’re in love with the model boy,” Chat said softly, rubbing his thumb absently against the back of her hand, “gotta say I didn’t see that one coming.” 
“Yeah well, it’s not like it really matters anymore,” she sighed, “it’s not like it would ever happen.” 

He scoffed at her, rolling his eyes theatrically to show his clear contempt for her pessimism. “So tell me My Lady,” he asked shifting slightly so that he could look down at her with a playful smile, “what is it that you see in this guy anyways?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“You don’t want me, so clearly you aren’t after the guy for his looks,” Chat said wiggling his eyebrows flirtatiously. 

“No,” Ladybug laughed, “although they don’t hurt.” 

“Why My Lady, was that you finally admitting that you find me attractive?” 

“You’ve always been attractive and you know it,” she said reaching up and flicking his bell. “As you can see I’ve just had my attentions elsewhere.” 

“Oh so this is a long standing attachment then? How long have you been dreaming of being M’Lady Agreste?” he teased poking her lightly on the nose. 

“Almost from the first day I met him. It will be two years next week,” she said softly. 

“The start of school,” Chat murmured, “you know him then?” 

“yeah,” she admitted reaching blindly around to catch his other hand and pull him to her like a security blanket. “We were in the same class in college and we still have a few classes together now. Plus our friends are dating so we hang out a lot.” 

“You two are close then,” Chat said a little breathlessly, “that… well that certainly clears things up.” 
“Yeah,” Ladybug said, “it’s not just some creepy celebrity crush. I mean, it kind of was that too. I have like 2 dozen photos of him plastered on my wall that I used to practice talking to because for the longest time I could barely string a sentence together around him, it was kind of embarrassing. I got over it eventually, but by that point I didn’t really have the heart to take the pictures down.” 

Chat gave her a warm smile. “I can see it now, you stuttering and tripping and shooting the poor confused boy adorable awkward smiles before running off in the opposite direction.” 

“Shut up,” Ladybug said but she couldn’t help grinning at her partners soft tone and fond smile. “I got better.” 

“I know.” He raised one of her hands to his lips and gave her a delicate kiss. “So you still haven’t told me what you see in this guy,” he challenged, “If I am getting demoted to your rebound choice I deserve to know what I am up against,” he said slyly. 

“He’s kind,” Ladybug smiled, filling with warmth as she thought about her love. “He always wants to see the best in people,and he… he is just good, you know? The kind of goodness that doesn’t come from ignorance or being sheltered, but that has seen pain and and heartache and loss and yet still chooses to be good. 

“That is high praise indeed My Lady.” 

“You aren’t going to make fun of me for this?” 

“No My Lady. If anything I am going to love you more for it.” 

She gave him another grateful smile before sitting up. The sun had begun to set and she knew she should be getting home. She probably had a dozen of so missed calls from Alya waiting for her. 

“Well who knows,” she said attempting to be flippant. “Maybe he’ll finally just reject me and I will change my mind about you Kitty.” 

“Wouldn’t that be a twist,” Chat laughed climbing to his feet and offering her his hand to help her up as well. 

“It would probably be for the best,” she sighed. “It’s not like we can be together. Not with Hawkmoth still on the loose. There is too much at stake. And I don’t know if I could bear having to hide my identity in a relationship.” 

Chat grinned again. “You are very wise My Lady.” 

“Mostly I am just telling myself that so I can feel better,” she admitted and was rewarded with a loud melodious laugh. 

“You know,” he said, eyes twinkling “you are probably right. Clandestine meetings, midnight makeout sessions, it’s probably better to hold out for the real thing.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Besides, I hate to break it to you My Lady but I have a sinking feeling that #Ladrien is not to be.” 

“And why is that Kitty?” 

“Well,” Chat said looking out at the sunset, “not to be the bearer of bad news but I have it on very good authority that your lover is very much spoken for.” 

“oh?” Ladybug said trying not to let her disappointment show. 

“Yes, completely and hopelessly in love. Someone at his school in fact.” 

“And who is this mystery girl?” she asked. 

“It’s right on the tip of my tongue,” Chat said his eyes glittering with something she couldn’t quite name, “it will come to me. I’ll have to tell you next time I see you.” 

“Well thanks for the heads up,” she said leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek, “and thanks for cheering me up.” 

“Always My Lady. I should probably get heading home myself.” he pulled out his staff and and extended it. 

“Oh,” he said, shooting her a final grin as prepared to depart, “I do remember one thing.”
“And what’s that?” 

“The mystery girl, I knew there was something about her that I found particularly delectable.” 

“And what is that?” 

“Her parent’s own a bakery.”  

anonymous asked:

can you please do another soulmate au in this one when you reach the age of 16 a tattoo of your soulmates initials appear on your body. jughead never told anyone his real name and betty has no idea who the F.J. tattooed on her skin could be.. please :)))

Aw man, this is cool!
****

Jughead took a deep breath, pulling the beanie he always wore, lower on his head. He took a peek in the mirror to make sure his ears were covered, that was the purpose of his beanie after all.

Running his fingers over the spot just behind his ear, partly covered by wavy dark hair, he traced the delicate letters “B.C”

Of course he knew what they stood for, they had shown up so suddenly the day he turned sixteen. He remembered the shock and disbelief he felt at seeing those very familiar initials, scrawled in pretty feminine letters over his tan skin.

Betty Cooper. His soulmate was Betty Cooper, there was no one else, it had to be Betty. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t show anyone. On his birthday Archie had begged to see his initials

“It’s a right of passage dude! Come on, you were the first one I showed when I got Veronica’s initials!” Archie practically pleaded with the boy.

Jughead had simply shook his head and shrugged his shoulders
“I didn’t get any initials, looks like I don’t have a soulmate.” He played it off as a joke but the sympathetic look veronica and Kevin had thrown him nearly made him spill the truth. He hated having people pity him.
There had to be a mistake, there was no way Betty was for him, she was perfect and soft and sweet, but equally as powerful and strong. He was just the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, he didn’t deserve her. Today was her birthday and he was sick to his stomach about who her actual soulmate would be.

Trevor Brown, it had to be him. The way he stared at her in the hallway made him sick, and when Trevor offered to carry her books to class Jughead felt postively violent.

Speaking of the beautiful blonde, she was headed his way, an angry looking Kevin and a confused Veronica in tow.

He heard Kevin huffing
“I don’t see why you can’t tell us, it has to be someone we know. We’re not gonna judge you Betty. Just tell us.”

Veronica was nodding along
“I promise B, whoever it is, we’ll make it work, whatever it takes.” She placed a soothing hand to her shoulder.

Betty finally reached Jughead ,Archie joining the group, practically sprinting out of the bathroom at the mention of Betty’s soulmate. Everyone in riverdale had been waiting to see who americas sweetheart would be paired with.

“I don’t know! I’m not lying, I genuinely have no idea. It’s no one we know, I’m not telling anyone until I figure it out!” She pouted, gripping Jugheads arm and leading him ahead of the group.

As curious as he was, he allowed her to pull him without questioning it.
“Happy birthday Juliet.” He spoke low, for only her to hear.

She turned to him with a sad smile
“Not so happy Juggie.”

He opened the door to the blue and gold office for her as she curtsied and giggled
“Thanks Romeo.” She threw him a wink before plopping down on the ugly plaid couch, her friends storming in after her.

Jughead quickly took the open spot next to her, at least he could save her from Kevin sitting there.

She sighed as everyone stared at her
“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it. And I promise I’ll tell you once I figure it out.” She spoke it all so quick it knocked her breath away, slumping to lean against Jughead.
He wrapped a comforting hand around her shoulder, gently squeezing.
She looked up at him and sighed
“Wanna know a secret?” She whispered a sad smile furrowing her brows.

Jughead nodded turning to look at her
“You know I love a secret.”

She smiled
“Me too. Well. I don’t really know how to say this, so I guess I’ll just spit it out. I wanted it to be you. I wanted you to be my soulmate, I know you don’t have one and all but, I thought maybe you were mine. I know it’s stupid, but now I’m stuck with this stupid F.J on my palms and I have no clue who it is. It’s totally weird, but..”
Jughead cut her off quickly, gripping her wrist and bringing her hand dangerously close to his face.

“Juggie!” She pouted indignantly “staring at it isn’t going to make him appear, the least you could say is Thankyou, I mean I pretty much..”

He cut her off again, this time ripping off his beanie and throwing it behind the couch, his eyes still drawn to the heavy handed F.J written across her palm, it was surrounded by nail indents and crescent shaped scars from when she dug her fingernails into her palms, to calm her nerves.

“Jughead” she said again softly this time, her warm eyes ducking to catch his, tearing him away from her palm “are you okay?”

He broke into the biggest grin, raising a hand to tuck the hair away from his ear revealing the gorgeous B.C.

Betty gasped, her hand moving to her mouth.

“Is that…?”

He nodded slowly, gently holding her palms face up in his hands

“It’s nice to meet you Betty Cooper, my names Forsythe Jones.” He was smirking now as she opened and closed her mouth

“You mean?” She choked out

“You don’t think my parents actually named me Jughead do you?” He wrapped his large hands around her face, her palms resting on his chest, the F.J placed over his heart.

She traced her initials with watery eyes.
“I knew it.” She whispered

He smiled

“Damn am I glad.” He sighed out, capturing her lips in slow kiss.

Inked

***PLEASE NOTE: This is Part One of a series. You can find Part Two linked below.***

Pairing: TattooArtist!Daveed x Reader

Requested?: Nope. I’m literally just a slut for tattoos and @gratitudejoyandsorrow got this idea in my head, so this imagine was born. 

Prompt: Your first tattoo experience was more pleasant than you thought it would be. 

Words: 2.4k+

Part One | Part Two

A/N: My first Daveed imagine and it is super self-indulgent, who would’ve thought? This is a Tattoo Artist AU (if I didn’t make it clear before) and I’m in love with it. Shout out to @diggs4life , @tempfixeliza , @helplesslylins and @secretschuylersister for being so encouraging and amazing these past couple days. Shout out to Lola for inspiring this! I hope you all enjoy :)

Originally posted by saymaybetothis


You were finally going to do it. After a year of contemplating, you had found the perfect tattoo to go under your collarbone. That was step one, you spent another month looking up all the tattoo parlors in the neighborhood and ultimately choosing one that had good reviews and modest prices. Today was your appointment and as you left your front door and entered the summer heat, you could feel the urge to chicken out clawing at the back of your mind.

No.

This has been put off for far too long. It was now or never. So you took a deep breath and continued the trek to the bus. 20 minutes later you found yourself outside the parlor, 5 minutes earlier than the time you set with the man on the phone. You stared at the door as if it was going to open and pull you in itself but, you had to make the move. With the last burst of confidence you had, you swung open the door and stepped inside. Waiting there to greet you was a man with medium brown hair and dark green eyes, his tank top left little to the imagination as your eyes were instantly pulled to his many tattoos over his arms and shoulders, stopping right at his neck. He glanced up as the doorbell rang, giving you a small smile as you made your way over.

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True Colors

Named after the song by the Weeknd bc I am trash. Thank you to @caspercassiecas for being my beta. This is my first fic on this account, and my ask box is always open for requests. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3606

Warnings: Smut, fluff, disgusting dude at a bar, reader has a dragon tattoo, sex related humor at the end.


“Y/N!” You heard Lin shout, and you sighed heavily, still holding the coffee that the man had sent you to get. You looked around for him, noticing that he was on the other side of the stage. The stage where the company was practicing.

You groaned, sprinting across the stage, ducking and spinning around dancing people. You somehow managed to get across without spilling the coffee, handing it to Lin and smiling before you heard your name called again.

“Y/N! Come meet Diggs! He was sick yesterday, so you didn’t get to meet him!” You heard Christopher shout, and you groaned again, sighing heavily. You looked over, trying to find where Christopher was standing.

“You guys are lucky I do sports.” You muttered, Lin cackling and patting your shoulder.

“Yes, we are. You’ve got a busy second day ahead of you, kid.” Lin laughed, and you groaned, running back across the stage, doing a slide on your knees between a dancer’s legs and ending up at Christopher’s feet, scrambling up.

“Sorry, I learned yesterday that if I time it right, I can get across the stage without being hit.” You explained, brushing yourself off before smiling widely at Christopher and the tall man beside him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Daveed Diggs, Daveed Diggs, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N is our new intern since Jessica quit the other day.” Christopher introduced them, and you smiled warmly, shaking Daveed’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Phillipa calling out for you.

“Y/N!”

You made an apologetic face, wincing.

“Sorry, it was lovely meeting you, Diggs. I’ll catch you later.” You waved, weaving between the dancers once more, yelping when one grabbed your hand, spinning and dipping you. You went along with it, doing a couple dance steps with him before he let you go and you ran off to find Phillipa.


You were backstage, delivering Leslie a tea before he had to go on. You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes as you knocked on Leslie’s dressing room door. You heard a muffled ‘come in’ and opened the door, absently tugging on your hair with your free hand. You poked your head in carefully.

“Hey, Leslie, they didn’t have chai, so I had to get you vanilla, I hope you don’t mind. If it’s an issue, I can run down to the corner store really quick.” You greeted, voice rough from how much you’d spoken that day. The three men in the room turned to you, all smiling. Anthony stood, opening the door for you fully. Daveed waved and smirked from his spot on the couch. Leslie was leaning on his vanity, smiling widely at you.

“It’s no issue, thank you, Y/N. Have you met Diggs? He was out sick yesterday when you were here.”

“Yessir, I have met Diggs. Though I’ve been bouncing around all damn day so I haven’t had a chance to properly speak to him.” You laughed, handing Leslie the tea and smiling at Anthony, who appeared to be struggling with his collar, which wouldn’t stay down.

“Anthony, do you need some help?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly. He looked up and smiled brilliantly.

“Yes, please, actually. I can’t get it to stay down.”

You clicked your tongue, muttering under your breath as you reached a hand to your side, pulling a safety pin out of your jeans. You carefully stuck it in the fabric of Anthony’s coat, pinning it down.

“Alright. Anyone else need anything while I’m in here?” You asked, eyeing Daveed out of the corner of your eye. You noticed his eyes on your legs, moving around your body. He caught your eyes and you raised a brow.

“Coffee would be nice.” Daveed murmured, and you nodded.

“Any specifics on how to make it?”

“I like mine how Lin takes it.”

“Lin takes any kind of coffee I give him.” You snorted, tugging at your hair again as you left the room, sighing heavily.


The Next Day

You were helping one of the dancers through a run, copying his movements effortlessly.

“Y/N! Need you!” You heard Daveed call, and gave the dancer a sad look, jogging off to Daveed’s dressing room, knocking on the door and waiting for the signal to come in. You jumped as Lin opened the door, putting a hand over your heart.

“Jesus! Lin, you almost put me in cardiac arrest.” You scolded, furrowing your brows as you slipped in.

“Sorry, Y/N. I was just leaving.” He laughed, waving as he shut the door. You turned your head, spotting Daveed by his vanity. Your mouth ran dry. He was in a tight black t-shirt, one that outlined every single one of his muscles, and a pair of jeans that fit just right on his hipbones. You forced your eyes to his face, smiling.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with the Lafayette bun. I can’t seem to get it right today.”

“Uh, yeah, s-sure.” You stuttered, blushing bright red. You mentally cursed yourself, walking over and carefully pulling his hair up, forming it into the bun.

“You’re blushing. Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” He practically purred, and you flicked your eyes up to look at him in the mirror, still putting the hair tie around his hair.

“Yeah. Just a little warm in here.” You lied effortlessly, finishing the bun and smiling at him in the mirror.

“Need anything else?”

“The cast is going out tonight, Lin wanted me to see if you’d come. He had to run to set before he could ask himself.”

“He could’ve shot me a text. But yeah, I’ll come.” You murmured, pulling a pocket notebook out of your jeans and scribbling down your number, tearing it out and setting it on his vanity.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t have my number. Text me the location and dress code tonight, please.” You murmured, walking out of his dressing room.


You almost fell out of the shower trying to grab your phone in time to answer the incoming call. You stood, dripping on the floor, pressing the phone against your wet cheek.

Hey, it’s Daveed. I’ll come pick you up. Tell me your address and wear somethin’ nice, aight?” He greeted, and you made a humming sound.

“Will do. Uh, I live in the Deerfold Apartments on eleventh, number 112. I’ll have to buzz you in.” You answered, running a hand through your still soapy hair.

You sound out of breath. You feeling alright?

“I was in the shower when you called. Almost fell trying to answer.” You laughed, listening to his own warm laugh radiate through her speakers.

Alright, I’ll let you finish your shower. See you in about 30 minutes.” He said, and you hummed. The call ended. Or so you thought.

You put your phone down, stepping back in your shower. You went back to your singing, belting out the lyrics to old rock songs at the top of her lungs, running conditioner through your hair. You quickly washed your body and shaved, turning off your shower. You grabbed the towel you kept by, sighing at the puddle of water on the floor.

“Dear god that’s so much water.” You said to yourself, drying off quickly before putting the towel on the floor to soak up the water.

You pulled your hair into another towel, twisting it up and whistling as you stepped on the other towel, singing once again. You picked up your hairbrush and phone, starting on Lemonade, Beyonce’s new album. You picked up the towel and your dirty clothes, walking out to your bedroom, singing at the top of your lungs.

You can taste the dishonesty,
it’s all over your breath,
” You sang, tossing your phone on the bed. You continued singing, putting your dirty clothes and both towels in your hamper. You quickly brushed out your hair, accidentally tripping over a pile of clothes and letting out a loud string of curses. You heard quiet laughter, popping up and trying to find the source of the sound. You scrambled to your phone, finding that you were still in a call with Daveed.

“Diggs! Why didn’t you hang up?!” You exclaimed, turning bright red.

I heard you singing and wanted to stick around to see if you’d sing a song from the show.” You heard his familiar voice crackled through the phone.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned, knowing you’d never live this down.


You buzzed Daveed in, walking back to your bedroom and stepping into your dress, pulling it up. You struggled with the zipper, getting it up about halfway before you heard a knock on your door. You sighed, walking over to your door and opening it. You gave Daveed a slightly awkward smile.

“Can you zip me up, please? I can’t seem to get it.” You asked, and he laughed, nodding his head. You turned, holding in a shiver as his warm hands ran up your spine, zipping the dress. You felt his fingers lingering, brushing along the dragon tattoo at the base of your neck.

“Nice ink. Do you like dragons?”

“No, I hate them.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and stepping into a pair of heels, grabbing your jacket and purse.

“Alright, let’s motor.” You smiled, spinning your keys around your finger. He nodded, stepping aside to let you out. You locked your apartment, linking your elbow with his and letting him escort you.


You laughed at the story Lin was telling the people at the table, sipping your wine. Daveed was digging into his steak, being quieter than usual. Anthony was on your other side, casually sipping his wine as well.

“Hey, D, you doing okay?” You asked, voice quiet. You glanced over at him, raising a brow. He smiled, nodding.

“I just can’t cut this damn steak.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and sipping your wine again. The waiter walked over, setting down a wine glass and a note in front of you. You raised your eyebrows. You glanced at the table, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you spoke.

“Oh, I didn’t order this, sir.” You said, smiling up at the waiter.

“It’s from the gentleman in the blue shirt at the bar.” The waiter smiled, and you nodded, looking at the glass of wine and flicking your eyes up to the guy at the bar, who smirked and waved at you. You opened the note, reading it and suppressing a disgusted face. You pulled your notebook and pen out of your bag, scribbling down a note back and chugging the wine. You handed the note and empty glass to the waiter, smiling.

“Tell him he has awful taste in wine, but thanks anyway.” You requested, and the waiter read your note and laughed, nodding his head.

“Yes, ma’am. You have a strong voice in your writing.” He commented, and you smirked.

“I’m aware. Thank you very much.”

You sipped your previous glass of wine, looking over at a call of your name.

“So, Y/N, what did blue shirt guy say in his note?” Lin asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I should’ve known better than to think that would’ve gotten past you. I thought it would be a nice note, but it was vulgar as all hell.” You muttered, shaking your head and glaring at the note.

“What did you say back?” Renee laughed, and you shrugged, smirking.

“I said that he was a pussy for saying it in a note with wine instead of to my face, and if he really expected that to work or get him laid, then he was more idiotic than I thought at first glance.” You answered Lin, who snorted loudly, cackling.

“Wait, lemme see his note! Y/N, you gotta show me!”

“Lin, read it out to us!” Oak laughed, and Y/N giggled, passing the note to Lin. He cleared his throat, getting out his most dramatic voice.

Hey, I really like your dress. I think I’d like it better on my floor, though. I like your lips as well, and I sure would love to see them wrapped around my 11-inch cock, come take charge of me, honey, I can show you a good boy,” Lin read, and you listened to the table burst out into loud laughter. Anthony gave you a sympathetic look, and Daveed swallowed his piece of steak before speaking to her.

“Are you even into being the dominator, Y/N? I get a more vanilla vibe from you.”

You raised your brows at him, laughing softly.

“And I think that’s my cue, sorry, guys, I have to wake up early and run around all day tomorrow.” You spoke, avoiding the question as you slipped on your coat, digging your wallet out of your purse and handing Lin $20 dollars, paying for your food. You waved as you walked out, blowing a kiss at them.


You stretched up, grabbing a pack of powder creamer from the cabinet, dancing to the singing you heard from the stage. You stirred it into the cup of coffee that sat in front of you, singing along softly. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

“Did I scare you away last night, baby?” Daveed whispered in your ear, and you shivered.

“N-no, Daveed.” You replied, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“You gonna answer my question, baby girl?”

You had to forcibly suppress a moan, subconsciously grinding your ass against his crotch. He laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You released a shaky breath.

“I don’t like to dominate, I like being dominated.” You muttered, and he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise and draw a moan out of you.

“Can’t fuck you here, baby girl.” He murmured, and you whimpered.

“I’ll swing by your place later.” He murmured, and you nodded desperately, grinding against him once more before he pulled away, smirking at you as he walked away, leaving you panting and blushing at the counter.


You buzzed Daveed in, practically bouncing as you walked off to your bathroom, checking your appearance one more time, perfecting everything. You heard him knock, walking cautiously over to your door and opening it, stepping aside to let Daveed in.

“You can take your shoes off by the door, and, uh, hang your jacket on the free hook.” You greeted, blushing bright red.

“You’re cute when you blush, baby. If at any point you want me to stop, say ‘red’ okay?”

“Got it. Red. Okay.” You murmured, nodding. You blushed impossibly brighter when he grabbed your hips again, tugging you against his chest. He crashed his lips down onto yours and you moaned into his mouth, circling your arms around his neck and grinding yourself against him.

“Fuck, Daveed, bedroom.” You managed when you broke free, pointing to your bedroom door. He nodded, grabbing the undersides of your thighs and picking you up, walking toward your bedroom, leaving kisses on your neck. He tossed you on your bed, tugging his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He smirked at you.

“Take off your clothes and hold out your wrists, baby.”

You were quick to comply, pulling your clothes off in record time and holding out your wrists for him. You moaned a little when you saw he’d finished taking off his clothes while you were distracted with yours. He pulled his belt tight around your wrists.

You moaned when he trailed a hand down, running a finger along your slit. You tossed your head back, bucking your hips up when he pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right and rubbing your walls. Your mind went blank, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he thrust them in and out of you. He ducked his head down, sucking at your clit, drawing a damn near scream from you. You were impossibly close. Though, to be fair, you’d been close since he’d kissed you.

“Please, sir, please, let me,” You babbled, mindlessly begging.

“Can you take three, baby?”

“Yes, sir, please,” You moaned, arching your back up sharply when he pushed another finger into you, keeping you right on the edge. You started begging again, whimpering when he held your hips down with one of his hands, stopping you from moving.

“Cum.” He ordered, and you practically screamed his name as you obeyed, back arching, fingers reaching out in your bonds, mind going completely blank. Before you had time to recover completely, he was inside of you, hitting your g-spot immediately.

“Daveed!” You moaned, dragging out the syllables in his name. He wrapped a hand around your throat, biting hard into your shoulder as he pounded into you. You felt his other hand gripping your hip so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints branded onto you for weeks. You moaned again when he bit hard on your breast, then moved his hand and bit into your neck again.

“You’re mine now, baby girl, no one else can fuck you like this.” He growled into your ear.

“Yes, sir, yours.” You moaned back, gasping for breath as he slowed down, almost sobbing.

“Say it, baby. Who’s are you?”

“Yours, sir! Please!” You moaned, trying to buck up and get him to go faster again.

“Who’s?”

“Yours, Daveed! Fuck, please!” You sobbed, then felt him unbuckle the belt around your wrists, then start up again. You threw your head back once more, raking your nails up his back. You knew there would be marks the next morning from your nails, and that made you moan more, scratching up his back again, then burying your hands in his hair, pulling. He groaned, nodding his head.

“Good girl, Y/N, fuck. Cum for me, baby girl.” He groaned out, and you let your orgasm take over again, seeing stars. You felt him bite hard into your shoulder, possibly drawing blood, as he came. All the muscles in your body went slack, and you winced at the oversensitivity as he pulled out of you, taking the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling at you.

“Where’s your bathroom, baby, we need to clean you up.” He asked, voice soft. You groaned, lifting your arm and pointing to a door, sighing when he picked you up. He walked into your bathroom, making a pleased noise at the sight of your bathtub, setting you down on the counter and running you a bath.

“I’m tired, Daveed.” You muttered, whining as he picked you up again, sitting in the bath with you between his legs, leaning against his chest.

“I know, baby, let’s just get you cleaned up and then I can take you to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.” You murmured, letting him wash you off. You let your eyes slip shut as he shampooed and conditioned your hair, washing your body gently. You felt him moving around as he cleaned himself, then as he pulled the plug to drain the water. You felt him leave the tub, drying himself off, before picking you up and drying you off, carrying you to your bedroom. You sighed, tossing the towel around you into the hamper in your room before he laid you both down, pulling the blanket up to you and wrapping his arms around you.


“Hey, Y/N, what’s with the turtleneck? It’s super fuckin hot in here.” Anthony called, and you spun around, smiling at him.

“That is subjective, Ant. I think it’s really cold, actually.” You lied, shrugging. He raised an eyebrow.

“Or you got laid last night.”

You didn’t respond, the color draining out of your face.

“Holy shit! Guys! Y/N got dicked down!” Anthony shouted, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning.

“Yes, I did. Is there a reason why my sex life is so exciting to you, Ant?” You sighed, putting a hand on the hip that wasn’t bruised all to hell and glaring at him.

“Lemme see what the guy did, Y/N, I know you have a tank top under that damn turtleneck,” Anthony said, and you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Lin! Make Anthony go away!” You shouted, Lin looking over and laughing at the two of them.

“Do you even remember the guy’s name? Did you get his number? Are you gonna hit him up? I saw you walking weird earlier but I thought you just pulled a muscle, was he that good?” Anthony shot off, and you groaned, sighing.

“Hi, baby. He bothering you?” Daveed asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pecking you.

“Holy shit.” You heard Lin say, then heard Anthony and Oak burst out in laughter.

“Jesus Christ, we knew you liked her! Lemme see what he did to you, you gotta show me now!” Ant cackled, and you made a grumbling noise, looking up at Daveed for permission. He gave a single nod, and you sighed, tugging your turtleneck off and allowing them to see the plethora of bruises on you. Including the scabbed over bite on your shoulder, claiming marks.

“Jesus Christ, Diggs, you don’t hold back.”

“He would’ve but I didn’t tell him to. Is your curiosity sated?” You snapped, glaring. Anthony and Oak held up their hands in mock surrender.

“Well, now we won’t have to ask why you’re walking funny.”

“Shut up.”

different titles ➙ p.j.m ➙ one

pairing: Jimin x Reader

genre: angst | fluff | smut | au 

warnings: language

summary: who would’ve thought Park Jimin, one of the richest kids in the world, would fall in love with a homeless one?

one

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Desperate Times (Joker x Reader)

Okay. I’m so sorry guys, I know it’s been about 80000 years since I’ve posted but I’ve just had really bad writers block and I’ve been really busy with work and school and whatnot but here it is. 

This was a request from an anon: “Could you please make an imagine where the reader is given to Mistah J because they were in debt to him. He immediately because super obsessed with her, but the reader is very scared of him <3 <3″ 

This is like decently close to the request just i couldn’t figure out what to write. I’m sorry!!!!! 

——————————————————————————————-

“Please, no Mr. Joker, I’ll give you anything. You can have anything.” You saw the man beg for his life, for another chance. It disgusted you to see him like this. To see the man you once knew as your father beg for drugs. You shook your head in disgust and turned away. You had no idea why but he insisted you be there with him, maybe it’s ‘cause he knew it could very well be one of his last days, if not his last.

“Anything?” The green haired man purred as he circled your father. Your father nodded and looked you in the eyes as if he were apologizing. Confusion clouded your mind as to why he would be apologizing. Maybe it was for being a shitty father, or for making you witness this horrid interaction.

“You can have my daughter,” he stated simply. You eyes snapped open and your back straightened.

“Excuse me? No you can’t have me and what the fuck dad?” You said in disbelief.

“Oh she’s feisty, I like her. You’ve got yourself a deal there Mr. You can keep your life, and your drugs, in exchange for this lovely creature,” he said as his looked you up and down, drinking in every detail of your body.

“No. Dad what the hell is wrong with you? You’re not actually serious are you?” Your voice dropped as the look in his eyes confirmed that he was in fact serious about selling you to the Joker.

“I’m sorry Y/N. There’s nothing else I can do,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had gotten to this point. Your heart broke as you watched the man you once looked up to pick drugs over his own daughter.

“Oh we are going to have so much fun together little miss Y/N,” the Joker snarled in your ear. You flinched as his hands came down on your shoulders.

“Dad… How could you?” He looked down in shame and walked out of the room without a word. Tears were streaming steadily down your face as you stared at the door he had just left through.

“Hm. Dads, am I right?” The Joker broke the silence in the room. “Hi doll face, I’m the Joker, the man that your father is seriously indebted to, and you belong to me now! You can call me Mr. J,” he said, extending a hand towards you as if to shake hands. You glanced down at his hand and ignored the offer. “Oh sweetheart now that’s just rude. That won’t fly doll. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Gonna have to teach you a lesson then. Take a seat,” he said as he pulled you down to sit next to him. His face got serious and you knew you were in trouble. “You belong to me now. That means you do what I want, when I want, and where I want. If you disobey me sweetcheeks, you get punished. Are we clear doll face?” He gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You nodded and he released your face. “What’s your name sweets?”

“Y/N,” you said simply. He stared at you with a bored look as if he was expecting you to say more. You stared back in defiance and he let out a long displeased groan.

“Not a talker are we? I can change that y’know,” he said with a maniacal smile as he pulled his shiny gun out of the holster under his jacket. He lifted the gun and caressed your soft cheeks with the cool, hard metal. You stared him dead in his crazy eyes as he tried to scare you with the powerful weapon in his hands. His face fell as he realized you weren’t scared and you wouldn’t open up to him. “Now tell me doll, am I gonna have to find some other ways of getting you to open that pretty mouth of yours?”

“Fine. What do you want to know. You get three questions, choose wisely,” you said, boredom dripping in your words. Your father had dragged you in to a world of guns and violence, this was not the first time you had been threatened at gun point and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

The Joker raised his non-existent eyebrow and stared you down. He was vastly impressed by your cool composure and lack of fear. Most in your shoes would be trembling, begging for their dear lives but you, you just sat there, bored with his games and his old intimidation tactics.

“And who do you think you are making demands?” He sneered angrily.

“I’m just trying to get this show on the road. Question one, two more to go. Like I said Mr. J, choose wisely.”

“I like your spunk sweetcheeks. Alright, why aren’t you scared? Most people would be terrified out of their minds, why not you?” He inquired.

“You’re not the first basket case my father has pissed off. I’ve been tied down, beat, interrogated, the works. I’m used to it now. My father owes a lot of people a lot of money but what they always fail to realize is that I mean little to nothing to him. I must admit, I’m a little impressed. You’re different than the others. He’s offered me up before y’know? No one’s ever agreed but you, you fell for it,” you explained. He stared at you with a confused look spread across is tattooed porcelain skin. “Stop staring,” you said.

He stared at you open mouthed and went to wrap his hand around your neck only to retract quickly. “You doll, are special, that’s for sure. I can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have. Last question, do you like the left or the right side of the bed?” He threw his head back as he howled with laughter, his infamous laugh ringing through your ears and the small room you two were seated in.

You rolled your eyes and mentally groaned at the stupidity of this man. “Right,” you said as you got up from the small couch. “Can we go now? I would really like to get out of here and take a shower. I’m assuming there’ll be towels and whatnot ready for me? Clothes maybe?” He shook his head at you and wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked back.

“Now listen here Y/N, just because you’re not scared of me doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of the things I’ve done and trust me honey, I can do worse,” he spoke in a deep, threatening voice. You felt the tip of his gun press against the center of your back. You had to admit that you were a little scared. The other men you dealt with were nothing like him. He was deadly, ruthless, and he could crack at any moment. “Now that we have the all cleared up let’s get this show on the road shall we?” His mood switched instantly.

A while later you pulled up to a lavish place. You were unsure of what to expect from him but you figured it shouldn’t surprise you that he lives in such an extravagant set up. He pulled you up from your elbow and you followed him inside. It was beautiful as you had expected upon seeing the outside of the house. Gold everything, marble counters, purple accents strewn around the house.

You glanced around, taking in what would be your new house.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled to yourself mostly. His hands came down on your shoulders in a gentle way, his hands travelling up and down your shoulders. You leaned your head to the side allowing a pleasant stretch to the tense muscles of your neck. “Do you live here all alone?” you inquired.

“No, the maid lives here, a few of my more trusted henchmen, for security measures. Not that I couldn’t protect myself, just don’t wanna do all the work myself,” he answered. You hummed in acknowledgement and continued to scan the room around you. “The room’s upstairs, I already had some of my men pick up your stuff from your father’s place, if you need anything else just tell me and I’ll send someone out to get it,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. You nodded, and dragged yourself up to what looked like a spare room. You plopped down on the bed and let out a long sigh.

So this is what my life is like now, you thought to yourself, looking around the lavish room. Joker stepped up to the doorway and stared you down before sitting down next to you on the big fluffy bed. “Why am I here Joker?”

“Please, call me Mr. J, Joker sounds… Too formal. I want you here because you’re a beautiful girl, your father did me wrong, and I want to make him pay.”

“Hah… Well jokes on you Mr. J. My father doesn’t care about me. Keeping me here is doing nothing but giving him the chance to shamelessly waste away without me yelling at him. You’re doing him a favor,” you explained. He nodded and spread a wide silver grin across his pale tattooed face.

“Y’know doll, maybe I just want your lovely company,” he said sarcastically.

“Y’know, maybe I just can’t stand your company,” you retorted. Before you could react, his hand came across your skin with a harsh sting. The force behind it made you fall back and place a tender touch on your cheek. You looked down, cowering away in fear. You loved to put on the tough girl act. Sure, you had dealt with crazies but nothing that ever came close to the Joker.

A slow tear dripped down your soft cheek. His eyes widened at the realization that he had made you cry. “Can you please leave me alone,” you muttered.

“Shit Y/N are you okay doll?” His voice was a bit quieter than before.

“Please just leave.” You were shaking, terrified to be in the same room as this psychotic, dangerous man.

“What’s wrong sweets?” You looked at him with a look of disbelief.

“You just slapped me across the face. If I’m being totally honest, I’m terrified right now. You scare the living daylights out of me. The moment I saw you I was scared for my life. I don’t want you in here. If I’m going to have to live with you I want to be left alone… I don’t want to be scared for my life. Please just go…” He looked at you, shock on his face.

“Alright. If you need something you can let someone know.” He placed a hand on your hunched back and left.

A small part of you felt bad for banishing him from your life but it wasn’t right for him to treat you in such an awful manner. You let out a sigh and laid down on the comfortable bed. Before you knew it you had slipped in to a deep sleep, forgetting about the disaster your life had become.

it's you (that makes my heart beat)

The first letter appears when she is thirteen. She feels a burning sensation on her wrist, panic flaring at the sudden pain but it quickly turns to excitement when she sees the ink form into the shape of a T.


She shows her parents, happy at the thought of soon meeting her soulmate. The first thing she does is Google names with the letter T.


She’s fourteen when she meets Ty. He hasn’t gotten any letters yet and she’s not quite sure she loves him, yet. But it could be him. They date, she kisses him, she feels empty.


She asks her mom how she felt when she met her dad and She deflates when the lovesick poetic description of feeling complete and ethereal love. She’s never felt like that with Ty.


She’s fifteen and She knows it’s not him, he knows it’s not her. She hates the way his eyes light up when he meets her friend (teammate), Amanda. And she hates the look that mirrors Amanda. And they both still don’t have any letters but they are hanging out all the time. It doesn’t bother her until they start excluding her. It’s then when she no longer can live in denial.


It’s petty, she’s jealous and she does something stupid.


She sends the picture to Ty and it all comes crashing down. They fight, she can’t remember what’s said but she knows it’s harsh but what kills her is when he shows her the A on his wrist. But it’s what he says afterwards that completely breaks her.


“Hopefully you never meet your soulmate because you don’t deserve them.”


And it angers her so much because it’s true. She knocks his tooth out (they put it back).


That night a R appears after the T. It’s bittersweet she thinks as she feels asleep with tears in her eyes. She uses her watch to cover her wrist after that day and vows tip forget about her soulmate. 



Trini’s twelve when she gets the K. It’s bittersweet. 


She’s sitting at the dining table with her parents when she starts to feel like someone is dragging a razor across her skin. She lifts her sleeve up and jumps in astonishment as black ink begins to form a letter. Her parents watch in excitement with her and when the letter becomes clear they start spouting off names with the letter K; Kevin, Kyle, Karl. Trini’s heart breaks a little because she knows (hopes) that the name will be different. 


She thinks of Katie the cute girl who sits in front of her in English. Of Keisha who always smiles at her in the hallways. She wishes she could tell her parents. She wishes she could be honest. She wishes her parents would understand when she’s ready.


She brings Katie over for a study date. Katie who still hasn’t gotten any letters but has seen the K on her wrist and smiles often at her. Sometime later Katie leans over and lands a peck on her lips. Trini feels her face heat up. They go back to studying even though Trini can’t concentrate anymore. She can’t stop thinking about Katie’s soft lips. She can’t stop thinking about how nice it felt. She’s not sure if Katie is her soulmate but she wouldn’t mind kissing her again. 


They’ve been together for almost a year and Trini thinks she’s in love, she believes they might be soulmates. She feels the happiest she’s ever been. She still hasn’t told her parents but the suspicious looks her mother gives her makes her insides hurt. 


It’s when she’s thirteen that her world falls apart.


Katie comes in and She can tell that the girl is trying to contain her excitement but she’s bubbling with energy.


“I got my first letter.” Trini can tell the girl is trying (and failing) to sound disappointed.


It feels like her heart stutters. Katie reveals her wrist and a D is there flaring back at her.


“I’m sorry. Good luck with finding your soulmate.”


Trini never looks back up. Katie leaves and she doesn’t move. She feels empty in a way that it hurts. For the next week she refuses to go to school, refuses to answer her parents’ concerned questions and only eats the bare minimum. 


She gets an I following the K after that. But she’s numb, she doesn’t care. She could get a full name and still not be sure that she has found her soulmate. So many people share the same name. She’s not going to get hurt again. 


They move a month later.


She’s fourteen when her parents bring over Kaleb from church. She hates him. Hates the way his shirt is tucked into his jeans all nice and proper, hates how he addresses her parents as sir and ma'am, hates how he keeps trying to discreetly (and fails) glance at her bracelet covered wrist. She sees the T on his wrist and almost feels sorry for him. She ignores him throughout dinner as her parents encourage (push) her to converse with him.


“You’re wasting your time.” Trini finally mumbles without looking up but the silence that follows tells her that the whole table heard.


Her mother excuses her little brothers who take the chance and run to their room.


“I’m not your soulmate.” She finally looks at the boy.  She shows him her wrist, the two letters causing a delusury burning (she wishes she could rip her skin off), relief crosses his face and Trini scoffs.


“What are you waiting for, you know where the door is?” She pushes her plate away, not that she has ate much.  


“Trini that’s no way to treat our guest.” Her mom scolds her with a glare as Kaleb shifts uncomfortably in his seat, itching to get out of this place (just like Trini). 


“Why didn’t you tell us?” Her father presses gently.


It’s eating at her and if she holds it any longer she’ll drown. It comes from the back of her throat before she can think of the repercussions.


“Because I’m gay!”


Kaleb leaves after that. Her nightmares come true, her mom starts yelling at her amd she sits their unresponsive which only serves to fuel her mother’s anger. She yells at her for embarrassing her in front of a guest, for hiding things, and for saying nonsense. But what hurts more than her mother’s anger is the silence and look of disappointment from her father.


They move within three days.


The silence continues on her behalf. She didn’t think it could hurt more. But then her mother starts spouting off names again. Kirk, Killian, Kile. She starts avoiding dinners.


It’s not hard to find someone who deals. She does it to piss her mom off. She does it to forget. To feel something other than pain. The first time she smokes weed she has a coughing fit and wonders how the hell someone can like this shit. But eventually she gets the hang of it. She’s floating in a euphoric high, nothing can touch her.


Her vice (escape) only lasts a few months before her mom catches her. Finds a joint while snooping through her stuff. They threaten to send her to rehab. They move again.


Her mother’s questions continue but now a monthly urine test is added to the conversations. She stops if just to get her mother off her back. But she wonders what her  next vice will be.


At times when she’s showering, she considers grabbing the razor and dragging it across her wrist destroying the letters that only seem to bring her problems. But she can never being herself to do it.


She considers getting a tattoo to cover it. She knows a guy who’ll do it even though she’s a minor. She makes an appointment, shows up. It’s really sketchy, in his living room but he pulls out a brand new clean needle but before he can bring the needle to her skin she retracts. She needs to know the full mame first, know that her mother is wrong and that she’s not confused.


But she feels bad wasting this guys time so instead she opts for something different. She ends up getting a black and yellow sabre tooth tiger on her left shoulder. She knows her parents would kill her if they ever find out but that thought encourages her to go through with it. It stings in a way similar to when she got her letters.


She’s fifteen when her parents decide to move again. Destination: Angel Grove.


She doesn’t hate it as much as she thought she would. Her new vice becomes tai chi and heavy metal.


Not long after she turns 15 she gets her third letter. She sitting in the back row of her biology classroom when the familiar stinging sensation bolts her from her thoughts. The letter M appears and her breath catches as she glances up to look at the girl sitting a few seats ahead of her. Former head cheerleader fallen from grace, that’s as much as Trini knows.


It could be her or there could be different name on the girl’s wrist. Trini doesn’t want to know. 


She books it from class as soon as the bell rings and heads for the cliff. She runs, what’s the point of knowing her soulmate if her parents will force her to move eventually.


That night she meets the group of misfits. She thinks she dies but somehow wakes up alive and well in her bed the next morning. She wonders for a few minutes which option would’ve been better.


The day gets weirder but besides getting pulled over a cliff by none other than Kimberly Hart, the girl does not seem to act any different around her. Trini buries the disappointment and deems that the girl is not her soulmate.


And that thought is what makes her not run away and actually form a cautious friendship with Kimberly. Any doubts she has quickly fade, being around Kim is easy. She hasn’t felt quite is relaxed like this in a long time. She thinks she doesn’t need her soulmate when she has her friends, when she has Kim.



Kim can’t help but think it would be so easy if Jason Scott was her soulmate. He’s caring and kind but she has absolutely no romantic feelings for him. She has a T and an R on her wrist, and he has a W on one wrist and a Z on the other. He doesn’t talk about it, she doesn’t ask but she tells him everything and it helps that he forgives her for what she’s done considering she still hasn’t managed to forgive herself.


She grows closer to the rangers but closer to Trini. The girl whose like a grumpy cat but if she likes you, you’re one of the lucky ones. She’s not sure when it happens but they’re at the donut shop and it hits her. She doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 


Rita happens and she doesn’t have much time to dwell on her feelings. She hasn’t felt anger as heavy as when she sees the marks on Trini’s neck and she knows that when she gets the chance she’ll make Rita regret ever laying a hand on Trini.


Billy dies, Billy comes back to life and Rita gets bitch slapped into space. Things seem to finally be settling down.


They are all still friends and Trini’s still there. Kim can’t help but think how lucky she is to have her in her life, and she’ll do whatever she can to deserve her friendship.


A few weeks after the Goldar incident and Kim finds herself sitting on Trini’s couch for a Netflix marathon. Trini’s parents are out of town visiting family for the weekend and the boys had plans to work on Jason’s truck, which makes Kim glad she can spend some alone time with Trini.


3 things happen at once.


One: Trini reaches leans forward towards the popcorn and her sleeveless shirt shifts and Kimberly catches sight of yellow and black saber tooth tiger on her left shoulder. She feels her mouth go dry, stomach tighten and a slight throb between her legs. Her face heats up as she realizes she’s turned on by discovering that Trini has a tattoo. It hits her that she’s attracted to her best friend.


Two: the familiar burning sensation on her wrist comes. She moves her watch slightly to see a new letter begin to form. An I. Her heartbeat is so loud she hears it thumping in her ears. It’s like being thrown in cold water and she wonders how she never considered the possibility that the girl in front of her could be her soulmate. She looks at Trini and wonders if she knows, if she has any letters. It’s that moment that all the feelings she has been experiencing lately begin to make sense.


Three: as Trini reaches for the popcorn bowl her bracelets on her left hand shift and Kimberly catches sight of the three letters marking the skin. She freezes and her blood runs cold. Thoughts race through her head. Trini knew and never told her and there has to be a reason for that. She doesn’t want her, why else keep it a secret.


She goes through a rollercoaster of emotions in the span of a few seconds. Arousal, joy, (it’s a goal high) and then the hurt (a goal low). And it really fucking hurts knowing that your soulmate doesn’t want you, that you don’t deserve them.


She stands abruptly, the tv control falling to the wooden floor with a clash.


“Kim?” Trini turns to her with worry.


She runs.

anonymous asked:

Fav sterek fics?

I have 402 bookmarks on AO3, how do I choose favorites?! I guess I can try ; ; here’s my pathetic attempt at a sterek rec list (fics added as I find them in my bookmarks, not by favorites):


The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [116k, M]

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

Safety in Silence by Survivah [66k, M]

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

Easy Trouble by Survivah [55k, M]

Derek+Stiles+fairies = love spell

“Make love to me,” Derek demands.

What.

Where The Inevitable Isn’t by Survivah [41, M]

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that’s supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn’t in the same universe anymore.

“A part of Stiles had been thinking that he’d come home, and just go, ‘hey, Derek, are we mates and you just haven’t said anything about it?’ and Derek would reply, ‘now you mention it, we are indeed! Now come to my bedchamber, where we will have super hot sex and then cuddle after!’”

A Simple Life by Survivah [13k, T]

Derek plans to spend the rest of his life holed up in the woods after Laura dies. Then he meets a stubborn young fox, and the stubborn young fox meets an urn of Deaton’s magic powder, and his plans change.

Keep reading

Flashes (Part 1)

Summary: Soulmate AU. “The fault, dear Brutus is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” - William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,783

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, angst, sadness, borderline depression, sarcasm, did I mention language? might be hard to read for lonely hearts like me.

A/N: Well, I did it…at least I tried. The lovely @minervaem challenged me (sort of) to do an angsty story, so here we go. I’m warning you now, it’s not gonna be pretty. Anyways, it’s only four parts, so only pre-existing permanent tags will be added to this story. Reminder: If you want to be removed from the permanent tag list you need to msg me! Sorry in advance. There’s four parts to this story.

Originally posted by heartsnmagic

Keep reading

A Letter from You

AN: @whitechocolateperfection Thanks Emily for requesting and advising as always :) and @teen-mendes you know why 


Originally posted by anthony-samaniego

It’s laying under the flower pot at your front doorstep. There’s a small rock set on the opposite corner, like the pot isn’t heavy enough to keep it down.

Leaning over, you take it from its hiding space, realizing it’s a letter. Your name is written across the white in black ink. The handwriting is familiar. Something you’ve seen in journals and lyrics written quickly on newspaper or paper towels when his phone was too far away. You found parchment in your purse from the small train you took in Amsterdam. The song turned into roses. Who knew one lyrical line would’ve turned into your favorite song.

When the door is unlocked and your bag and keys are on the hook, you take a seat by the window. Your cat is curled up at your feet, stirring in her sleep.

The envelope is sealed, but you don’t go to open it as quickly as you should. The lip feels heavy, straining your shoulders. The breakup is still fresh, too fresh to read his letter. Maybe he wants to get back together.. maybe he’s about to show up with a bouquet of tulips and a single white rose- the only way you’ll accept flowers. Maybe it’s actually from Aaliyah, or an old friend from college. It was your birthday just last month. It could be a forgotten gift and the writer was too embarrassed to give it to you, face to face.

“What am I waiting for?” You ask yourself, knowing the longer you wait the worse the pain in your chest will feel. The words he spoke will never leave. They’re tattooed in your mind..anyone else would’ve found it beautiful, poetic. For you? It was tragic.

‘Y/N,

Keep reading

I’ve got my swim trunks, and my flippie-floppies

for @legividivici, hope you like it!! <3 (ao3)


The last place Clarke expected to run into anyone she knows is the literal middle of the ocean, but the cruise ship has barely left port before she spots a familiar head of tousled curls ahead of her in the crowd.

She loses sight of him before she can get a good look, so she chalks it up to her imagination. It’s entirely possible that Bellamy is on the same cruise she is– they did, after all, both just graduate, and therefore have the same budget and scheduling constraints– but she tells herself it probably isn’t him. And that even if it is him, it’s not like they’re going to run into each other.

So of course the next day she’s on one of the decks by the pool when a shadow falls over her and his voice says, “Is this chair taken?”

Clarke pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and wrinkles her nose at him.

“I don’t know, I my tiara really ought to have a chair of its own.”

Bellamy smirks and sits on the edge of the chair, not moving her stuff– not yet– but settling in to bicker with her. As is their custom.

She and Bellamy were RAs in the same dorm two years ago, and they had differing ideas at first about how hands-on they needed to be with their freshmen. Despite the way they picked at each other, by the end of the year they’d become reluctant allies, his calling her ‘Princess’ taking on less of a sneer and more of a teasing edge, her comebacks laced with a smile. They had each other’s backs.

But she didn’t re-up her RA contract for her senior year, and he did, and they’re not the type of friends to outright admit they miss each other, so she hasn’t seen nearly as much of him in the past couple of semesters as she would like.

“You here with Wells?”

“And Raven,” she nods. “I was saving those seats for them, but I’m pretty sure they ditched me to have tiny cabin sex.”

“O and Lincoln ditched me pretty fast too. I think they’ve all forfeited their right to a saved seat,” he grins, passing her bag back to her. The way he lounges back in the chair, skin already browning, wind ruffling his hair, he looks like something straight out of an ad. Or Clarke’s fantasies. Either one, really.

Just because she used to think he was a Class-A dick (which he is, but not in the way she thought. In the fun way.) doesn’t mean she’s never noticed how great his hands are, or how he’s got perfect hair for pulling, or how there’s probably more than one way to wipe a smirk off his face.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” she grumbles. He grins at her and pulls his shirt off, which is– honestly just so unfair.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Keep reading

Imagine finding Chris’ tattoo about you.

It was 1:48AM by the time you and your boyfriend got home from your cousin’s wedding reception. It had been an insane night filled with lots of booze and a ton of dancing. Both you and Chris had drunk and danced your way long into the night; there was no doubt your heads and feet were going to pay for it tomorrow. But it’d been a great night, the two of you- as always- had a lot of fun together. The two of you were so cute together that everyone- even the bride and groom- were a little jealous of your relationship.

Chris spent the entire wedding being a total sweetheart, there was an endless list of sweet things he did: he carried your purse for you while you went to the toilet, he accompanied you when you had to run around and greet family members you hadn’t seen or talked to since you were a little girl, he wrapped an arm around you and kissed your hair when you started getting emotional about the vows, he made sure you drank enough water and ate enough food to counteract the alcohol you were consuming because he knew you were a lightweight after two years of being together. Chris even gave you his too-big-for-you shoes towards the end of the night, carried your heels in his hand, and ruined his favorite socks- all because he knew your feet were killing and couldn’t bear to see you in pain. You’d lucked out with him, that was for sure.

Chris carefully stacked your heels onto the shoe rack before turning his attention to his shoes that you easily slipped off. He picked them up and slotted them into their respective spot on the rack before taking your hand and hauling your half-drunk ass upstairs. Your eyes fell on his favorite socks which were no longer a pretty cobalt blue considering he padded around on public grounds without his shoes protecting them. You felt terrible as you were responsible for murdering his socks; it was more than likely you could just soak and wash them, but your half-drunk ass didn’t think of that.

“I’m sorry,” you said and he glanced over his shoulder at you with a raised brow; he’d no idea what you were apologizing for. “I ruined your favorite socks,” you explained then pouted, making him laugh. “They’re all dirty and gross now, thanks to me.”

“They’re just socks, sweetheart.” He shrugged nonchalantly because he really didn’t care, “don’t worry about it.” He tucked your arm under his when you got upstairs, he chuckled when he saw that you were still beating yourself up over the socks. “You’re still a little drunk, aren’t you?” He squeezed your hand gently and led you to the bedroom.

“I’m very much sober,” you said with a lopsided grin that made him laugh.

“Okay, my love. Let’s put you to bed,” he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

He sat you down in front of your dressing table while he went into the bathroom to get your makeup cleanser and cotton pads. “Think you can manage?” He quizzed when he held out the two items for you; you nodded and took it from him, turning to the mirror to start the tedious process of removing your makeup. “Now let’s get this off,” he said as he moved your long locks out of the way to take off your necklace for you.

“Hey, Chris?” You looked at him through the mirror.

“Hm?” He looked up at you after he successfully removed your necklace.

“Do you think we’ll ever get married?” You asked him and he immediately smiled.

“Of course I do.” He lowered your necklace in your jewelry box. “I’m just waiting for the right time to pop the question. I feel like now isn’t because of my contract with Marvel, I mean- I don’t want to have to leave you after just getting engaged. I kind of just want to jump into the whole wedding planning and post-engagement glow, I can’t really do that if I have to run off. So I thought I’d wait until after my contract with Marvel finishes, if that’s okay with you.”

“As long as I know you’re in it for the long haul,” you smiled, “I’m okay with anything you want.”

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Of course I’m in it for the long haul, if I weren’t- I wouldn’t have asked you to move in with me and I definitely wouldn’t have added your name to the house’s legal documents.” You nodded in acknowledgement. “Are you sure you’re sober?” He chuckled again, lifting your hair over your shoulders and letting it cascade down your back.

“Yes, I’d be a lot worst if I were drunk. You should know that by now,” you said and he laughed. “The wedding’s just got me thinking about having one of my own. I know you’re in it for the long haul, but we just haven’t talked about getting married before so-” You stopped talking and began to mumble when you saw the smile he had on his face, “I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“I’m going to marry you,” he bent over and whispered into your ear. “I am not going anywhere and neither are you.” He planted a kiss into your hair, “are we on the same page now?” You chuckled but nodded, and he smiled. “I’m going to change out of this, I’ll be right back to unzip you.”

“Okay,” you nodded and resumed cleaning off your makeup.

In the mirror, you caught Chris walking into the wardrobe. He stood half in, half out as he took off his blazer, tie, slacks, then shirt. You watched him with great appreciation for his amazing physique; he was a lot more than his body, but it didn’t mean you didn’t appreciate it. He caught you admiring him as he pulled a pair of track pants over his legs, he smirked as he walked over shirtless with his tee in his hand.

“Why don’t you take a picture,” he teased, “it lasts longer.”

“Don’t really need to take a picture if you’re here for the long haul,” you winked at him. He chuckled and started to pull his tee over his head when you caught a tattoo on the side of his ribcage that you’d never seen before. “Hold up,” you lowered your cotton pad and turned around, lifting his shirt to take a closer look at the unfamiliar tattoo. “When did you get a new tattoo?” You trailed your finger across it then laughed softly when you realized what the tattoo was; a date, 4/7/2015. “Aren’t you patriotic, Captain?”

“Not that patriotic,” he responded with a light chuckle. “This is actually for the first time you told me you loved me,” he explained and you felt your heart skip a beat as you lowered his shirt. “Remember? Fourth of July, you met my family for the first time?” You nodded, smiling; it was a good day. “We rented a place by the beach, my whole family came out and we had a huge barbecue bonfire type thing.”

“And we snuck away just before they let off the fireworks,” you continued and he nodded, smiling. “We went for a walk on the beach and I told you I loved you, a feeling you very easily reciprocated which was nice to know. I can’t believe you got that memory tattooed into your skin,” you gently poked the spot where the tattoo was, “you couldn’t just keep it in your brain?”

“Nope,” he shook his head with a smile that made your heart flutter. “Because that memory is far too important to me. Yes, it reminds me of the first time you told me you loved me, but it’s more than that.” You raised a brow for a more elaborate explanation. “It’s the day my life fell into place, Y/N. When you told me you loved me, it was like- all the stars aligned,” he admitted and you felt your eyes welled with tears of joy. “That was the day I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently, then chuckled against your skin as he said. “And the day my mom said she’d disown me if I ever lost you.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed. “Lisa loves you way too much to disown you, even if you did lose me.”

“You clearly don’t know how much she loves you,” he smiled. “About as much as I do,” he bopped your nose. You lifted his shirt to admire the tattoo again when he released your hand; an act to which he chuckled softly at. “If you’re wondering when I got it, let’s just say it’s been an inappropriate amount of time for you not to notice.”

“Okay,” you laughed softly as you pulled your hand away, letting his shirt fall back over his abdomen. “I’m sorry I don’t notice every single tattoo on you, you have too many.” He chuckled, turning you around to unzip your from your dress. “But I know about it now and I absolutely love it.” Your dressed dropped to the floor and pooled around your feet.

“Mm…” Chris brushed his lips against your bare shoulder as his hands ran up and down your sides. “Does this mean you’re going to get a matching one?” You turned around in his arms and wrapped yours around his neck, smiling. “Or you know,” he kissed your neck, “at least something that pays me and our love some form tribute?”

“You know me very well, Chris,” you began as he pulled back to look into your eyes, “so you should know what my answer is.” He chuckled softly when you smiled, the both of you simultaneously answered, “hell no.”

Uhhh I kinda got smacked around by some inspiration for a VLD fic, of all things?  


“I wanted to see how you two were doing,” Shiro said, collapsing against the counter beside her.  "But, it’s good to get a little quiet.“

Hunk frowned in sympathy.  "They still arguing?”

“Something like that.”  Shiro sighed, kneading his temples.  "I wish I could say it’s surprising, but.  Fire and water are opposites.“

"So are earth and air,” Pidge noted.  "Feel like sparring, Hunk?“

Hunk grinned over his mixing bowl.  "I’m good, but thanks.”

Keep reading

Okay, so here’s a recollection of the best day of my fandom life? #ECCC

I’m usually just here to make short, dumb, spazzy comments, so bear with me, because this will probably be long. However, I’ll try not to be too repetitive and remember the interesting parts. ;) Apologies if the pics are effing huge. I don’t do this posting thing - ever. hahah

Keep reading

Dream Come True

Originally posted by luna-intheforest

Characters: Y/n, Derek

Pairing: Derek x Y/n (FEMALE READER)

Warnings: Smut smut smut, rough sex, Derek kinda wolfing out, more smut, slight pain, Derek being concerned, unprotected sex, fluff at the end

Word count: 2500

Summary: Derek just can’t stop dreaming about you. Luckily, he gets a real chance.

A/N: Ok, so…requested fic by @burgundyrosesandwine​ -I was wondering if you could write a Derek smut with a female reader where it’s after derek leaves beacon hills and he’s in a new city (Like nyc) and that because he’s bored he starts giving private self defense classes. And then he becomes really good friend with one of the girls he trains and he even reveals he’s a werewolf. She’s innocent and sweet and derek can’t stop fantasizing about her but he’s scared he’ll scare her off because he’s a lot older and she’s inexperienced but one day his lust takes over and he’s very rough, dominant and possessive You can use the pain removing thing idea like you did in the beginning of the end :) Also can you make her very short pleaseeeee. I know this is a lot so you obviously don’t have to do it Just an idea I really want someone to write one day hahaha. Ok, so I think I mostly stuck to the request. Also, sorry this took sooo long!! Hope u like it!!

Tagged peeps: @sallyp-53 @greyravenvixen @helvonasche @chelsea072498 @the-latina-trickster @aingealcethlenn @squirrels-angels-and-moose @lucifer-in-leather @kumaartz @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @mogaruke 

Masterlist


Your moans were loud and filthy, your pussy stretching as Derek pounded into you.

“Fuck, y/n. So damn loud, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, trying to keep your moans quiet, but the way his cock felt inside you was too much.

You screamed as your body shook, your pussy clenching around Derek’s cock.

Derek’s face fell to your breasts, growling loud as he came deep within you.

Keep reading

Whipped...boyfriend!!! Pt.2

If you haven’t, this follows “Whipped…friends??” which you can find here. And the first part to this you can read here.

Flashbacks*


Y/N had tried her best to fall asleep. Tried to ignore the noise that New York was. She’d hailed a cab from the restaurant to her hotel, bidding good bye to her cousin, thanking him for taking time out of his day to keep her company. 

She didn’t however excuse the sudden need to get out of the restaurant when Harry came into view. And her cousin didn’t ask questions, guys normally don’t.

But in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t keep out the thoughts of Harry taking over her mind. She tossed and turned, checked the clock to see it had only been seven minutes since she’d last checked it.

So when the soft knock on her door caused her to sit up abruptly, she thanked the heavens for the short break it allowed her head to take from thoughts of Harry.

That is, until she heard his voice.

And if she was being honest, as unprepared as she was for this, she knew she had to talk to him. That is why she came to the city after all, wasn’t it?

***

Harry’s words were able to erase every doubt that Y/N had before last night. They laughed at how oblivious they both were; at the fact that obvious signs that they wanted more than to stay friends went over their heads.

They sat on the hotel room couch, talking about anything that happened during that short time they weren’t talking. 

Harry listened and watched Y/N talk about how she would still do lunches with Gemma. Even admitted that she would try to find a way to bring Harry into conversation just to see if he was doing okay.

Harry confessed that he knew, because Gemma told him, and Y/N could not have gone a darker shade of pink.

Harry recounted to her every moment he could remember of when the boys teased him, mimicking their voices the best he could to make her laugh.

“So then it was really me you lot were whispering about all those times?” Her giggle has Harry smiling like a child who’s just found out their crush likes them back.

And it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, it’s just nice hearing him say it.

“What ye’ laughing for?? Was a real pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone ‘bout it.”

She laughs even harder then.

“D'ye know how hard it was t'keep them from sayin’ anythin’ t'ye? Didn’t wan’ ye’ finding out over one of Louis distasteful jokes.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t actually.”

Harry chuckles at that, reminiscing on the countless times Louis’ comments nearly got him caught.

All in all, it was nice.

It was nice to have Harry back. To have him on the verge of tears at her lame jokes. 

“Knock, knock!” Y/N excitement grew because she had honestly just came up with this one.

“Who’s there?” Harry loves jokes. He loves telling them and having people laugh because they think his jokes are witty. He’ll even take people laughing at them because they’re plain idiotic. Harry also loves being told a joke, especially if it’s Y/N.

“Woo.” And she’s trying to contain herself. 

Harry and Y/N are similar in the way that when they’ve got a real funny joke to tell, or at least they think they do, they laugh for a ridiculous amount of time before they’re even able to tell it. Or they’ll start their joke, and as they rehearse it in their head, they’ll explode into laughter, eyes squinty and arms over their tummy because “s'a real good one okay! Jus’ wait.” This usually has others rolling their eyes at them because no one they know takes longer to tell a joke than they do.

“Woo who??”

“She’s an angel.” Harry thinks her excitement is priceless as she points at him with both index fingers. And he follows her lead for the sake of seeing her smile.

“Woo who! My only angel, woo who! She’s an angel, woo who! My my my my only angel!”

After that, she begged for an encore. Actually, she had him sing bits and pieces from songs she wanted to hear raw, unplugged with no instruments. Harry, of course, complied.

Now, waking up to each other isn’t much different now than it was a few weeks ago when they were nothing more than best friends. 

Back then, if Harry wanted to lightly peck at her shoulder for some sort of reassurance that yes, his Y/N was still with him, he would. He would do it first thing when he woke up, a sour taste in his mouth because he needs to wash his teeth. And she never minded, returned his affection with a smile, hooded eyes crinkling because sometimes it was still too early for her. 

Back then, if Harry wanted to cuddle her whilst they lounged about at a friends house, he would. Didn’t matter if he was having a conversation on the couch with someone. The moment Y/N walked by in front of him, he would tug at her hand until she settled next to him, which never took much. She would roll her eyes at him, but smile none the less as he tucked a hand underneath her knees, moving them to rest on top of his thigh. He would then proceed with the conversation he’d been having, hand on Y/N’s calve.

It was normal for them, and their friends never asked questions anymore.
The only difference now, is that if Harry wanted to wake her up with a kiss to the lips, he can. 

And Y/N no longer feels the need to come up with some excuse when Harry suddenly wakes and catches her staring at him.

Instead, she smiles warmly, gripping at the heavily tattooed hand that rests on her waist. 

“Mmm, mornin’,” he manages, voice raspy enough that he coughs once to try and make his words sound clearer, “starin’ at my face were you?”

Y/N doesn’t try to hide it. She likes the way he’s looking at her, one eye peeking open, half a smile visible because half of his face is still pressed against the soft hotel mattress.

He stirs a bit, propping himself up on his forearm only to plop back down on his tummy, body closer to hers. 

Harry smiles wider at the touch of her fingers raking through his hair to get it away from his face, the pads of them grazing his scalp. 

Still the same. 

Harry’s arm lazily slung over her made her feel comfortable…safe. It’s not nearly as close as they’ve been before when they cuddle in bed, but something about his dopey smile and squinty eye has her feeling giddy. Because finally, she doesn’t have to hide the side of her she’s been wanting him to see. Affectionate in another sense, affectionate in a more free way. 

“S'that bad?” Y/N cuddles herself even closer, turning on her side and leveling her eyes to his. 

Harry says nothing. 

“Tell me again?”

And he doesn’t need to ask what she means by that. 

He simply moves to scoot closer again, lifts up his head to look at her better, and presses a kiss to her temple.

“I love you.”

***

Y/N doesn’t remember how she got home. 

She can’t believe she let herself get so upset over Harry interacting with his friends that she got so pissed drunk to the point she can’t remember much from last night. 

It’s all a haze, and if she knew she would be sporting a killer hangover, she would have stopped on the second drink. 

“H?" 

She reaches for the water and bottle of pills laid on the night stand, clearly aware that it must’ve been him who placed them there for her. 

Two pills in one gulp.

Even though the window curtains are closed, she can make out the lining of light that manages to seep through the edges of the material. And she really can never thank him enough for always taking care of her, especially when she gets like this and her tolerance wears thin.

"Harry?” She whispers, and again, no answer.

She can see the outline of his body sat on the chair by the corner of the room, slumped over, hands running through his hair.

“Hey. Baby? You okay?" 

As much as she wanted to stay in place, tucked under the comfort of the duvet, she needs to see if he’s okay. So she turns on the nightstand lamp, wincing in the process, and lifts up the covers. She crawls to the foot of the bed, head tilting in a way to try and get a look at him. 

"C'mere.” She pats the spot next to her. She would get up and go to him if she could, but she doesn’t trust her body enough to get her across the room with out falling at some point.

Harry doesn’t say anything still. But she notices the way his body shakes, and even he can’t completely silence the sobs escaping his lips. 

“Harry! Babe, no, no-” her frantic voice causes Harry to look up for a mere second, long enough for Y/N to make out the redness of his eyes, tears falling down from his cheeks.

He wipes at them hastily, bowing his head back down, trying to shut her out. 

***

How could Harry even think this girl looked anything remotely like his Y/N? 

His heart is racing still, mind going at a million miles an hour, but blank at the same time.

It’s shock that’s keeping him here. Sat on a bed foreign to him, next to a girl who’s seeming to be sleeping peacefully while his world falls apart. 

What the fuck is he to do?? 

He doesn’t think twice, he needs to talk to someone. He needs advice. 

But the minute he does it, the minute he opens his mouth and reaches out to someone..anyone..it’s out there. 

So if part of him wanted no one to find out, why has he phoned Louis? 

“Calm down, mate.” Harry doesn’t care much for the tone in Louis’ voice, he needs to talk to him.

“Look, Harry. I can’t understand what you’re sayin’ if you won’t call down!”

“Fuck, Louis!” He exasperates, “I fucked up. I fucked up and Y/N’s g'na hate me. I can’t lose her, Lou. Not her.”

Louis can recall a handful of times Harry’s gotten himself into serious trouble. He’s always been able to keep it on the low though. But for Harry to call him this distressed, stumbling over his words, and practically crying. That’s something else. He can’t recall the last time he’s heard him this shaken. 

“I don’ know who she is, Lou. I’ve got no fucking clue who this is.”

“Harry,” Louis really doesn’t wanna assume the worst, but he can’t think of anything else Harry would be frantically going on about that has to do with a chick, “what did you do?”

“I don’ know. I woke up in a bed tha’s not mine. Stripped down t'my briefs.”

“Shit! Harry!”

This is never a conversation either of them thought they’d ever be having.
“Did you use protection?" 

Shit. SHIT! That hadn’t even crossed his mind.

"I don’ know." 

***

Y/N can’t think of a single thing that might have Harry like this. She hops off the bed almost too fast, but catches herself before she can trip. 

"Love, why’re you crying?” She tugs at his hands to try and pry them away from his face, but he barely budges.

“Talk to me, H! Whatever it is we can get through it." 

The soft strokes of her hands on his thighs do little to nothing. How is he suppose to tell her?? How. What can he say? She’s going to hate him. But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. How could he have done that to her? 

"Harry, please, baby!" 

His heart breaks a bit more at the sound of her voice cracking, unable to contain herself.

He wants to tell her he loves her. He loves her so much that he can’t imagine Harry with out Y/N. Wants to tell her Harry doesn’t exist with out Y/N. But where does he start. 

The silence is eating at Y/N. It’s beginning to feel like there’s not enough air in the room. She continues to beg Harry to tell her what’s wrong. 

"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, H.” But she wishes he would. “Just tell me you’re okay,” still, the strokes of comfort from Y/N’s thumb on his waist fail at calming the uneasiness. 

A million things are going through her mind. But the only one she’s stuck on is literally squeezing at her heart.

What did she do?? Is this the end of them?