#and as sm who struggles to read my body's messages. ill take a clear one when i can get it

[alyimoss]

honestly no clue. i mean- being sleepy probably is. esp for neurodivergents. the heartache probably isnt super normal tho, but if its no longer happening?? then ? idk

oh im seeing new colors

[zigtheeortega]

“’cause we're collectin' moments; tattoos on my mind”

pairing: raleigh x mc

@choicesmarchchallenge

word count: 2,071

song inspiration: sometimes - ariana grande 

tag list: @violinet​ ; @bloodxbound​ ; @dadrianraines​ ; @mentallych-ill-desi​ ; @adrixnrxines​ ; @roguemal​

author’s note: the lyric (that’s the title) from sometimes inspired this fic! i love raleigh sm. also sorry for the double post it just lined up that way lmfao. also sorry if this is an unpopular opinion, but i dont care for the platinum mc so i decided to make her more of what i thought raleigh’s type of girl would be (lmao). anyways, hope u enjoy!!!

She tripped over a large crack in the sidewalk, almost wiping out completely, but Raleigh’s strong grip managed to keep her going.

“C’mon, Dom, they’re gaining on us!” he laughed, whisking her through the street, cutting through an alleyway.

He stopped abruptly and pulled her close, a mischievous grin on his face. He held a finger to her mouth, and cocked his head in the direction of the street.

The paparazzi sprinted by, not even glancing in the direction of the dimly lit alley. The shuffling of their feet faded into distant patters.

Raleigh tiptoed to the opening of the alley and peeked his head around the damp brick wall, before jogging back to the shadows, the smile from before still lingering on his lips. “Coast is clear.”

“So what now, genius?”

He chuckled, hugging her close with one arm draped lazily around her shoulder. She could smell the cheap tequila on his breath, a reminder of their rendezvous at the sketchy bar.

She leaned into his touch, the buzz not quite wearing off yet. The alcohol weighed her head down, and before she knew it, she rested it on his shoulder.

“Well, I haven’t done anything truly reckless in a while. Gotta keep the bad boy image up,” he said, sliding his arm down to her waist.

“Are you gonna explain what that means exactly?” she laughed.

“You might not think it now, but I used to be a goodie-goodie,” he started, guiding her towards the opening in the alley. “When I first started in Sunset Skatepark, I was supposed to be absolutely perfect, and tattoos were a huge part of that, believe it or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Honest to God, I’m not lying. I wanted them so bad that I got any old stick and poke that was offered to me, which I don’t recommend at all,” he shook his head. “Obviously they’ve been covered up since then by these beauties,” he gestured to the arm wrapped snugly around her. “But I miss the spontaneity.”

“You, Raleigh Carrera, miss spontaneity? Mr. Publicity Stunt? Mr. Dating to Get the Tabloids On His Side?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Dom, but I miss being kind of secretive. Getting a tiny stick and poke where no one could see was exhilarating.” She looked up at him, and his face was bright.

His face was reminiscent of the past, a hint of gratification that she knew he hadn’t felt in a long time. Raleigh had always struggled with being truly content with his life, and she knew that their whirlwind romance was something to fill his void, as harsh as that sounded.

She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through. She’d gotten a taste of the high life, and she was exhausted. Knowing that, she didn’t mind being the person to fill in the cracks, clinging to the pieces to keep it together.

He used chaos as escapism, as a way to outrun the parasitic tendrils of the industry, the burden that came with being a household name, and the inevitable role model title that came with it.

She knew he was chasing a high that he could never sustain, and if feeding into his law-bending fantasies was the way to bring out the best in Raleigh, she would do it no matter the cost.

“So you want us to get party tattoos?” She finished, and his features twisted into a sheepish expression, one that was foreign on his face. He wasn’t one to get beaten to the punchline, so he seemed surprised by her willingness to match his energy.

“What do you know about party tattoos?” He smirked, his curiosity piqued.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out… eventually.”

He quirked a brow and leaned back, glancing at her lower back.

“I’m not saying a word,” she giggled, grabbing onto the hand draped around her waist, intertwining their fingers.

They rounded the corner and spotted the neon sign of the tattoo parlor down the road from them.

“You sure about this? Tattoos are permanent, you know. Plus we’re not exactly in the right mindset for this.”

“I’m sure.”

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound between them the tapping of her heels on the concrete sidewalk.

He pulled on the handle, and the small silver bells attached to the inside of the door jingled, and a gruff-looking man covered in tattoos looked up from the magazine he was reading. Luckily enough, it had to be Raleigh’s most recent cover.

His eyes widened, and Raleigh stopped him almost immediately. “I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us. We had to outrun the paparazzi a few minutes ago, and we really wanted a night to ourselves.”

The man looked starstruck, so Raleigh continued. “I’ll pay extra to rent out the shop for an hour or two.”

He shook his head, finally finding his words. “No need, Mr. Carrera. I’d only request an autograph, and maybe a picture to show my wife, if you wouldn’t mind. She’s a huge fan.”

Raleigh flashed him his most charming smile. “You got it.” He grabbed a sharpie and the magazine, while the man switched off the open sign and locked the front door.

“You want me to make it out to anyone in particular, sir?” He asked, signing his name with a flourish.

“Yeah, could you make it out to Linda?”

“Of course,” he smiled, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face while he concentrated on the message he was scrawling.

The man led them to a back room, and sanitized his station before sliding on a pair of gloves.

“How do you want to do this?” Excitement glimmered in his eyes, and warmth spread throughout her chest.

“I thought it could be a surprise,” she said, already locking in on an idea.

“You read my mind,” he grinned. He stripped his shirt off quickly, his lean torso flexing as he shimmied off his top. She tried diverting her eyes, but to no avail. He caught her staring, a hint of hunger in his look.

She sat just outside the room on a small leather couch, thumbing through Raleigh’s magazine shoot and interview to keep herself company while the needle buzzed in the other room. The interview was alien to her; he was keeping true to his public image, but it was so different than the side of Raleigh he’d allowed her to see.

She pitied the public who’d never get Raleigh to be truly candid and vulnerable with them.

Soon enough, he was done, and it was concealed from her eyes by the small bandage.

“I have an idea of where I want it, but I’m not so sure what I need to do…” she trailed off, not knowing how to approach an underboob tattoo. Was it appropriate to keep the shirt on? To take it off? Should she just take her bra off?

“If it’s anywhere near your chest, you’ll have to take your bra off. You can keep your shirt on as long as you keep it above the area we’ll be tattooing,” the man said professionally, and it eased her mind.

Raleigh watched from the doorway as she unhooked her bralette and slipped it through the arm of her shirt. His eyes were trained on her as she laid down on the table, lifting her top to right underneath her nipple. She didn’t mind him watching her; a heat bloomed in her stomach when she truly realized how her body commanded his.

“Go sit down,” she said, shooing him away. He chuckled, raising his hands up in front of him, before plopping on the same leather couch she had sat minutes before.

She described the tattoo to him, and he looked at her like she was crazy. It was simple, but so reckless. Something she wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of a few months prior. But something that seemed so natural and… right.

The machine punctured her skin, stinging in a way that was a comfortable pain – therapeutic, even. She winced, sighing as the needle passed across her rib bone.

“I have to go back over it one more time, and I’ll be done. You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, intently focused on maintaining the steadiness of his grip on the machine.

She gritted her teeth as he passed over the tender skin again, sucking her breath in.

“You okay?” Raleigh called from the other room, concern laced through the raspy bass of his voice.

“I’m great,” she replied, gripping her shirt above her bra.

“You’re all done,” he said, rubbing a thin layer of a sticky substance on her skin before taping a small bandage over it. “I’m putting petroleum jelly on this. Don’t take the bandage off till this time tomorrow.”

Within a couple of minutes, Raleigh handed over cash and a hefty tip to the artist, and they were out of the door.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and her thoughts seemed clearer, the cloudy haze of tequila beginning to fade. They walked leisurely down the empty road.

The street lamps were illuminating small patches of the road, the stretches of darkness more prevalent than light. The apartments and small shops were closed – they were the only people outside.

He stopped her underneath the bright bulb of the lamp nearest to them, and grinned. “Were you planning on showing me what you got at some point?”

“Yeah, but only if you do it first,” she replied, barely able to think straight. Her eyes grazed over his features as he looked down on her, taking in the soft shadows left on his tanned skin, his jawline and exposed collarbone looking especially sharp under the yellow light.

“Alright, that’s fair.” He pulled up his shirt, before peeling back the tape and the bandage with it. He’d gotten a tiny cloud tattooed right above the paragraph of text on his ribcage.

“What does it mean?”

His eyes glimmered despite the dim lighting. “You’re the only person in this world that makes me feel like I’m more than what I pretend to be. And you’re the only person who’s really seen the real me, and makes me feel like I’m… worth something, you know? I feel like I’m weightless, like I’m floating when I’m with you. Like I’m dreaming. Like my head is in the clouds, but in the best way.”

He reached out to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. He pressed his lips against hers softly, and she chuckled once. He pulled back, eyeing her. “I never thought I’d see this side of you, but I’m so glad it’s my secret to keep.”

He grinned, and reapplied his bandage, gesturing for her to take her turn.

She pulled her shirt and bra up, just enough for the bandage to be free. She lifted the tape, revealing two letters: R.C.

His eyes widened. She could tell he was momentarily stunned, so she jumped right in.

“My whole life I’ve felt average. Just another girl chasing a dream that she’d never achieve because she sounded and looked like every other girl that she was competing with. You changed my life. One in a Million was my ticket, but you were the one who gave that to me.

“I never wanted to be ‘boring’. I was just cautious. Comfortable. Safe. You’ve brought out a side of me that I never thought I could be, because you believed in me. I could spend a lifetime thanking you, but I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“So you branded yourself with my initials?” He said, still stunned, but the look on his face had softened significantly.

“And you got a tattoo inspired by me, too. What’s the difference?” She smiled and sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I guess we belong to each other now,” he said, before sweeping her up into his arms and kissing her fervently, the distant sounds of the city keeping them grounded.

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