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mywritersmind · 2 months ago

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ACROSS THE HALL - LN4

part one

summary : Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell have rented a nice apartment in miami for the week before the grand prix! They were promised a beautiful view, nice rooms, and a smart TV! What they didn’t know was included is a smart mouthed girl with an affinity for cow slippers.

or : In which Lando Norris has a crush on his neighbor.

listen up : lando x american diva! dual pov + third pov randomly bc i couldn’t decide! will hopefully be a series but i need some serious motivation. requests are open!

heard through the grapevine that lando and max rented an apartment in miami for this week and idc if it’s not true bc i wrote this!

words : 4001

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando doesn’t know when it started, but once he heard the incessant banging on the front door, it didn't stop. “Christ- Max, turn down the music!” He yells at his best friend, hurrying out of the kitchen, his socks sliding on the hardwood floors for him to finally reach the door.

The second the door swings open, she starts. “Let me ask you something. Have you ever had a neighbor before?” Lando blinks, looking down at the surprisingly attractive girl. She places her hands on her hips and just before she opens her mouth again, Lando gets a horrible feeling that he’s done something wrong. “I don’t know where you came from but every other person who rented this apartment has been kind and quiet and fucking normal! Why are you blasting club music at one in the morning!? How many people are even in here? To be honest, I don’t really care. I'm a very curious person though and would like to know if you were raised by a woman; because I guarantee, if you were, she would be disappointed.”

“Um…” He hesitantly says, scared of making her go off again, “who are you?” She's taken back by his accent for a moment but stands up straighter after a temporary lapse of insanity.

“The person who’s sharing this floor with you and can’t fucking sleep because a teenage boy is up-” she looks past Lando, “Baking and blasting music four hours before she has to be up!” She finally finishes then, huffing out a breath and dropping her arms to her side.

Lando narrows his eyes, “Did you just call me a teenage boy? And insult my mother-”

“I didn’t insult your mother, I insulted you.”

His brow quirks at this and she has the horrible realization that he’s enjoying this. “Why do you have to be up at five?”

She’s a bit shocked at his question, wishing the handsome man would just apologize and move on. “Please, just turn down the music.” She sighs, crossing her arms. Lando takes her in full now, eyeing her white pajama set and getting particularly interested in her slippers that look like plush cows on her feet.

He leans against the door as she notices his intrigue, pulling her arms tighter over her chest, “You know, you could have just said that. Though I did enjoy your little crash out, got the whole small but mighty thing going for you, huh?”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares. She’s still wondering why he’s playing such horrible music at this time. He’s attractive, sure. No girl has come around the corner half naked yet. So what is this then? Some sort of bachelor pad for the week?

A voice breaks their silence, “Lan, I think I burnt the pavlova!” Lando cringes at this, neither he or Max are great bakers but a quick tik tok from P about this dessert gave them both false confidence.

“Pavlova…?” Y/n mutters to herself, her eyes finding the suspicious man who looks disappointed now. He turns his head, looking down the hall and making Y/n’s eyes dart to his jaw.

After an hour of building up the audacity to come knock on the door across from hers, she was too filled with rage to see who she was yelling at.

He is, for a lack of better words, incredibly hot. He’s in grey sweats and a tight white shirt that moves with his muscles. He’s got dark curls that form a sort of messy mullet and compliment his tanned skin far too much, especially in the fluorescent lighting.

Y/n shakes her head as he turns back to her, ruling out the bachelor party in her mind.

“We’ll turn down the music.” Lando gives in, almost forgetting why this gorgeous girl is still in his doorway, “Promise.”

She nods, barely noting that he didn’t apologize. “Thanks.” She turns and hurries back to her apartment, disappearing behind the dark red door in a split second.

Lando shuts the door slowly, still a bit confused and making his way back into the kitchen. “Max…”

“Lando! What was that!? I burnt the whole thing!” His childhood friend is scurrying around the apartment, opening every window as Lando’s eyes land on the charcoal treat. Max stops when he sees Lando frozen, his mind clearly elsewhere, “Hello!? Did someone open the door and kiss you?”

“I just met our neighbor.” He looks up at his friend who scoops the contents of the tray into the trash.

“And?”

“For someone so angry, she was very pretty.”

⋆༺

Despite the rough night Y/n had, her morning went much smoother. Delivering a package that had completely taken over her life for the past two months felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

She had spent so long on the painting that she feared the end result would be hindered by how often she looked at the large canvas. In a kind turn of events, the girl ended up loving it. And even luckier, the client did too.

She treated herself to an iced coffee the second she got back, finding herself at the small shop that is far out of her price range for a morning treat but too delicious to overlook.

Coffee in one hand, a bouquet of tulips in the other, she sighs and steps into the cool air of her elevator. Her quiet is disturbed by a voice, “Wait! Please!” Y/n stops the doors instinctively, looking up at a man with curly hair and round cheeks that are very red.

He lets out a huff of air before whipping his head around to the door, “I’m running from someone.” He practically jumps into the elevator, slamming his hand on the button Y/n had already pressed.

The doors shut just as he realizes they’re going to the same place. “Please tell me you’re our pretty neighbor and Lando didn’t invite a girl over on our lads holiday.”

Her brows move upward at the ‘pretty’ bit, understanding now that this must be the handsome man’s loud friend. “I’m your neighbor. Who are you running from?” Y/n says and before she knows it, she’s shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Max! My idiot friend.” He says brightly, “Heard you were upset about last night- really sorry about that. Lan just flew from Bahrain and his sleep schedule is all fucked up and of course he made me stay up but I could only stay awake with the music-” The elevator dings and the doors open, revealing Lando standing with his arms crossed.

“How did you get in front of me!?” Max says, still out of breath and looking panicked at the sight of his friend.

“You fucking ditched me!” Lando grabs Max’s shoulder, hard.

“P called!”

“I had to avoid questions about ma-” He notices the girl with Max now, innocently sipping her drink and enjoying their animated conversation.

“Look who I found!” Max straightens, presenting Y/n as if he acquired her on the street. He goes to say her name but realizes that neither of them know it, “Oh. Um…”

“I'm Y/n.” She finally says, smiling at the two. “It’s nice to properly meet you.”

Lando looks down at this, “Right, uh… I’m Lando.”

“You didn’t introduce yourself last night!?” Max slaps Lando’s arm, “Your mum would be ashamed.”

At this, Y/n laughs out loud. Making Max look surprised and Lando groan inwardly. Of course he had to say that. “So… why were you running from him?”

They both look at the girl, Lando letting go of Max and sighing, “Long story.” She hums at this, still curious but understanding that he doesn’t want to share.

Max apparently does, “One where I almost died but sure-”

Lando rolls his eyes, “He did not almost die.”

“I did!” Max walks down the hall, “P saved me.”

Lando eyes the girl as Max walks in front of them, “His girlfriend.” he then raises his voice, “who, as much as I love her, cannot save you over the phone!”

Max flips Lando off and shoves the key into the locked door, “Sorry again about last night, Y/n. I’m more sorry that it was Lando who opened the door and not me. I really wish I saw you yell at him.”

Lando’s eyes go wide at this, Y/n now laughing at the thought of Lando explaining what she’d said. “I can recreate it if you’d like, he still hasn’t apologized anyway.” She turns fully to him as Max cracks up in the corner, his face now matching his partner in crime.

Lando feels bad now, scratching the back of his neck at the call out, “I’m very sorry.” He looks down at her, his eyes soft when they meet hers, “And I hope you got up at such an ungodly hour feeling refreshed.”

Y/n grins, “I did, thank you.”

“Maybe you should invest in some ear plugs though. Ever heard of Loop-”

Max groans, “Stop giving the woman more reasons to hate you!” Lando just grins at this, Y/n’s eyes narrowed at the look he gives as he walks away.

Lando nods at her slightly, Max gone already as he retreats down the hall, “Have a good day, pretty.” It takes her back, the sweet name and wink that flies her way. She doesn’t have the chance to respond, he’s back in the apartment too quick, the red door closing behind him.

⋆༺

lando

“Oh my god.” Max says the second the door clicks shut, “You flirted with her, didn’t you!��

I roll my eyes immediately, “I did not.”

“You did!” I sit on the couch, pulling out my phone which he snatches from me, “You’re insufferable.”

“What!?” I let out a laugh, trying to grab my phone back which he only holds up higher in the air.

“I’ve been trying to get you to go out with Vanessa for weeks-” I shake my head at the thought, “And you’ve all but fallen at our pretty neighbors knees!”

“Max.” I deadpan at his dramatics, “I apologized.”

“You said good day!” He sounds like he’s in a victorian novel, making me laugh and argue back.

“You told me to be nice!”

“You called her pretty.”

“So did you.” I stand, taking my phone back, “I’m telling P.”

“I called her pretty because you did. Something P would not be mad at because P isn’t just pretty, she’s beautiful.”

“Shut up with your lovey dovey shit.” I fill up a glass with water, “I’ll go out with Vanessa if it means that much.” He’s been pushing this girl on me for weeks and as much as I love women, a triple header is not a time for me to try something (or someone) new!

“No.” He huffs, “Maybe this is good. Maybe you should flirt your little player boy heart out.” Along with trying to set me up, he’s also been attempting to lighten my mood. Hence our little week getaway before Miami.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and choosing to ignore the part where he called me a player. “Can I go on the sim now?”

“You mean, Can your best friend Max Fewtrell beat you on the sim now? Yes!”

I watch him practically skip to the machine and when I go to join him, I have to stop myself from playing our music a little too loud.

⋆༺

you

There’s a knock on my door exactly one minute after I scream. I open it and am not surprised when I'm met with the face of my new neighbor. “Are you okay?” Lando says quickly, he looks more distressed than I am.

“Yeah!” I push my hair out of my face, regretting it immediately when I feel the catch of paint on my skin, “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer me. “We heard you scream- something fell?”

I nod, crossing my legs and dreading turning around because of the absolute mess I've made, “I put up a bookshelf last week… clearly not well.”

He smiles a bit at this, something ridiculously small and crazy attractive. I hear Max from the other side, swearing like a sailor as Lando groans, “Right, looks like we’ll be ordering in tonight.”

“Oh shit thanks for reminding me!” I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and checking the time. “What’re you guys getting?”

“Uh I don’t know actually… You’re the local, what’s best?” He leans against my door frame so effortlessly that it makes me bite my lip.

“Uhm well I’m getting Thai from a place down the street, it’s insanely good!” I grab my keys from my catch all and shut the door behind me.

He looks at me up and down, “You’re going right now? Like that?”

I scoff, “Are you insulting my choice of shoe wear?”

He just laughs, shaking his head. He turns back to his door and just when I think I'm going to be alone again, he yells, “I’m going with Y/n to get food! Text me what you want.” I can hear Max’s quick protest before Lando shuts the door and his attention is back fully on me. He pauses for a second, his phone sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, “That’s okay… right?”

I just nod and get into the elevator that feels oddly cramped with him by my side. He’s staring at my feet still. When he notices that I'm staring at him, his face splits into a grin. “Why cows?”

I shrug, “I liked the flowers.”

“Why is there paint all over them?” I sigh at his words, the one part of my life I simply can’t hide because it’s on everything I own.

“I’m an artist.”

“You have paint on your face too.” He motions to his forehead. I sigh, already forgetting the fact and wiping mine with my sleeve. “Do you paint cows?” I step out of the elevator first and lead the way, letting him talk as he follows, “Or flowers?” His hands are in his pockets, the night air oddly cold tonight. “You don’t have a boyfriend.”

At this, I stop. Turning to face him and making his shoes skid against the ground.

“I mean- you put up bookshelves by yourself. Unless your boyfriend is just a dud finance guy. Sorry that was rude.” He goes back and forth with himself, barely keeping eye contact and making me laugh.

I pull my lips together, “No. It was funny.”

He meets my eyes, something that, until now, I couldn’t decipher the color of. “So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” At this, he only smiles. He really is cute.

I keep walking. I think he’s following me but when I turn around to check, there’s two guys talking to him.

I shake my head and continue to the shop.

⋆༺

lando

“Thank you so much!” one of the guys says to me as they walk away. “Good luck next weekend!”

“No problem!” I say, hurrying away and almost missing the shop that Y/n is in. I walk up next to her like nothing happened, “So, what should I get?”

We end up sitting at a little table in the back, Y/n sips her diet coke and watches a family or five near us. “You shouldn’t have paid.”

I ignore this, “Did you grow up in miami?” I ask, to which she hesitates before shaking her head.

“Moved here for college and just never left.” She has both of her hands on her soda, tapping a finger against the lid. “Where did you grow up?”

I tell her. I tell her as little as possible without trying to make myself sound like a serial killer. I don’t really want her to know anything about me. Is that bad when I want to know everything about her?

“You’re an artist.” I bring the straw of my water to my lips, “You give that energy.”

She laughs out loud at this. “How so?”

“Well besides the fact that you have paint everywhere, you’re very…” I can’t really explain it, and I'm doing a horrible job by moving my hands in the air, “Artsy?”

She nods but I can tell she wants to laugh again but she leans back in her chair and I swear, she checks me out. “You’re an athlete.” She says, catching me off guard and making me raise a brow.

The corner of my lips tug upward, “Am I just that jacked or…?”

She rolls her eyes at the same time the worker hands us our food. There’s three bags that she simply glances at. “I don’t have a boyfriend but while I have a man at my disposal… I might as well use you.” And then she shrugs and walks out.

I’ve never grabbed something so fast.

“Hey so- our food is all mixed in the bags.” I mention when we get into the elevator.

“Because you had to pay for mine.” She bites back.

“So we don’t know what is whose, so why don’t you just come over and have dinner with us?” She just stares at me. “Max is driving me crazy already and I promise we’re not crazy or criminals.”

She hums, “Yeah, okay.”

“Really?” I say a bit too enthusiastically, I hadn’t expected her to actually say yes but it’s a very pleasant surprise.

“Sure. I mean, if I get murdered at least I'll be well fed.” she walks out of the elevator with her hair swinging behind her like it’s nothing.

“At this point, you’re more likely to kill us.” I unlock the door and let her in.

We all end up around the kitchen table, it’s absolutely covered in different plates that are being picked at by each of us. Turns out, Y/n fits in great. She's ridiculously funny and keeps saying shit about Max that flies right over his head.

We tell her about how we grew up, “I still can’t get rid of him.” I say as Max flips me off, “Somehow I've just collected his family and girlfriend too.”

“I want to meet this girlfriend.” Y/n says sweetly before raising a sudden brow at Max, “You sure she’s real?”

Max scoffs and shows her his phone background, “Very much so!”

“Max!” She grabs the phone, dropping her fork into her noodles, “She’s gorgeous! I’m impressed.” He looks all proud and nods as he takes his phone back. Y/n looks at me now, “So what’s wrong with you then?”

I look around, confused on how this subject got turned on me, “Nothing!”

Her eyes narrow, turning to Max and pointing at me, “What’s wrong with him?”

“His lifestyle doesn’t… allow him to date.” Max has a shit eating grin on his face, something I'll be sure to remind him of later when he’s bragging on the sim.

“That’s a lie!” I argue, “I get women!”

Max laughs, throwing his head back, “Oh buddy, we know.” He says it as if I've been with tons over the past months. I want to yell that I haven’t even had sex since february but I think that’ll make things worse and more embarrassing for me. “Y/n, he’s not emotionally available.”

She grins, holding her cup in her hand still. She moves it as she talks, all I can hear is ice. “You sound like a male escort.”

I'm growing more horrified by the second, “I am not a male escort! I just… I don't want to date right now. Is that so bad?”

“No but it makes me think you’re either a slut or just got your heart broken.” Okay so Y/n is just as straightforward as she was last night.

My jaw drops, “What’s your excuse then?”

She breaks eye contact then, “I wouldn’t say heartbroken… more like, I did the breaking.” She shrugs, taking a bite of a spring roll.

Max whistles, “Tell us everything then.”

“There’s not much to tell. I broke up with him and he can’t seem to grasp that fact…” She stabs at her plate, “I sorta wish he would understand though because it’s getting really annoying. He keeps making burner accounts to stalk my instagram.”

Max claps his hands together, “Easy fix! Post a guy.”

She shakes her head, “No way… then everyone else would see it too. Plus, me telling him I don’t love him should be enough.”

I practically choke on my food, laughing so hard as Max starts clapping again, “Y/n, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” He stands, moving into the kitchen with his cup.

“Finance bro?” I ask, her nose scrunching at the thought.

“Worse… indie artist.” I laugh even harder at this, “We met in a sculpture class.”

“Oh no…” I shake my head.

She puts her hands on her cheeks, “He was cute!”

“Lemme see, then.” She begrudgingly pulls up a photo of him, of them. They’re dressed up and the first thing I notice is that her hair is a different color. I then remember why I'm looking at this and zero in on him. “Nope. Ugly.”

She laughs and puts her phone away, “Ugh! Enough about him. I’ll have nightmares.”

“After seeing that, so will I.” I shiver, going back to my food and debating saying something in my head. “Can I ask you something?”

She nods, “Sure.”

“You didn’t seem that shocked.” I say hesitantly, “When those guys stopped me outside.”

She shrugs, “Only mildly.”

“You know why, then?” I twirl my fork in my hand, hating this conversation already.

“I know you.” She blinks, making my stomach literally drop.

I try to hide my absolute disappointment, knowing I should know better than letting a random girl into my space- “You do?” Max walks back in, sitting down.

“Sort of. I googled you.” Oh.

“Oh?” Max joins in.

“Both of you.” She explains, “I was curious and still had to make sure you weren’t actually serial killers… Now I just know you’re actually best friends and you’re a- streamer?” She looks at Max, then me, “You too? F1 a side gig or…?”

I smile, actually smile at her. I don’t think I've ever been so relieved in my life. “I can’t believe you didn’t know me.”

“Okay, cocky!” Max says before I flick a piece of rice at him.

“I just mean- How? You live so close to the grand prix! There’s ads everywhere.”

“And I hate sports. I’m am only interested if it’s creative usually and whatever the fuck you guys wear- and drive, are not.”

I frown, “My car was shiny once.”

“Shiny and orange.” she points out, “Although you guys are pretty hot.” She says it like it’s nothing so I have to pretend my heart's still beating at a normal pace. “Last year I actually rented out my apartment for the week… made a shit ton of money, so thank you.”

Y/n ends up leaving right before Max and I start watching some movie she recommended, “What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask, in what’s becoming my favorite doorway ever.

“Sitting in my studio.” She sighs, “Gotta finish painting something. How about you guys?”

“Beach day!” Max yells, making popcorn in the kitchen.

“Beach, gym, streaming… knock on our door and I'll drop everything to pretend to be your boyfriend, though.” I add on as she looks down, smiling. “Anything else we have to do? I mean, we are going to be here for four more days but still.”

She thinks for a moment, twirling her hair around her finger like a princess. “Before you leave you have to go to brickell at night. I’m not sure if two guys will enjoy it as much as me but, check it out.”

“Y/n!” Max pokes his head out the door, “What is ‘how to lose a guy in ten days’ about?” She smiles and walks backwards into the hall.

“That’s the point of a movie, Max. You get to find out.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine

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greatw0r · 29 days ago

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NEVER FELT LIKE THIS yelena belova x thunderbolts reader

imagine being one of the depressed, miserable anti heros who works for Valentina and meeting them when you are going to do your job.

maybe you have some powers, and you could immediately tell there were more people in the room.

fights break and out of the sudden you have a blonde girl on top of you trying to hit you and gosh- she was strong for a small person. you push her out of you with your powers making her land on the other side of the room. she sat up.

" god- you're a weird one "

since that yelena is very much observing you and your powers, maybe you could say admire them.

you try your best to work as a team, even being as disfunctional as it is. you start to observe yelena too, her spirit of a leader, her intelligence, and most importantly, the way she cared. the way she cared about Bob, they way she tried to make him feel better, make everyone feel better.

when she steps into the void - something in you snapped - and you walked towards her, ignoring the yells from the rest of them.

" Are you crazy ? she could be death ! " bucky yells as he tries to stop you, alexei being held by John, who thought his daughter just died.

" yelena's smart - she... she did this for a reason - we have to help her, " you said to them.

" she's right - yelena could be right," ava said, looking at you with a nod.

you walked in- soon getting all your deepest fears- but you remind yourself. You had to help these people, them, yelena. you got trought it, with a few screams and cries, but you got into a room where yelena and Bob were.

" what are you doing here ?! " yelena sat up as you she saw you. some worry in her eyes, and she walked towards you and grabbed your arm.

" we came to help - I couldn't let you do this alone," you said, and the others also walked in, sowm still in shock from what they had seen.

" thankyou " she said, looking at you, a small smile froming her lips. She looked to them next but her eyes couldn't leave yours.

From that moment, yelena and yours relationship became closer, you two were connected in a lever where you didn't even had to understand it.

You would prepare your breakfast counting on her, giving her her favorite coffee, with some toast.

she would help you get better at training and with your powers. She wants to know more of it so she can understand you, and how you feel.

You would listen to her talk about natasha. Help her with her grief and try to comfort her as best you could.

Yelena couldn't believe it, but you actually made a difference in her life, and for the better. There wasn't a day when she didn't think of you. And she was scared. She has never been in this situation before.

" you see- lena you just have to tell her how you feel- this is how things go. You give her something she likes, flowers, some chocolate, a special one if you know what I mean- " alexei began, but yelena stopped him.

" oh my god dad I'm not going to- why did I even think this was a good idea " yelena sighed into her hands.

" please lena!- how do you think me and your mother are still together ? You have to show her you like her- otherwise she will never know." Alexei said, munching one some donuts.

" yeah... maybe it's not that bad.. " she said. Yelena bought some chocolates and rented a movie, and told you the team was going to have a movie night.

" oh.. where's everyone ? " you asked sitting down on the couch. Yelena sat next to you and brought the box of chocolates to you.

" yeah well- I could say they bailed, but I would be totally lying. I lied to you. I... wanted us to have a movie night... just us, " yelena said, nervous, watching your face shine with the TV light.

" you could've just asked lena " you laughed while eating one of the sweets. She chuckled and scratched her hair.

" yeah... well- I wanted to tell you something too- I'm just going be straight forward- I like you. I really like you and I don't know how to- how to say it or even what you do this is all new for me... I never felt like this before " she said, leaving you speechless.

" you... like me ?.. " you asked and yelena nodded . " well lucky for you cause I like you too silly " you said touching her hand.

" We don't have to- know everything right now... we can just see where this goes... " you said, trying to not make the girl uncomfortable.

" yes... yes thankyou for understanding- I really like to spend time with you- but it's different. I feel so... so in peace with you " yelena said, and you smiled.

you two continued to have the relationship you did, expect you had more cuddles, shared a room, and had to hear everyone teasing comments for a while. But everything was worth it when you had yelena by your side.

#lesbian #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #my bbg <3 #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader #bucky x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel x reader #bob thunderbolts #ava starr x reader #john walker

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thoughtwriter · 2 months ago

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multitudes [part 2] - a. tv

summary -> your first pub golf and you meet the one and only arthur tv who is infatuated from the moment he lays eyes on you

PART - 1, 2, 3, 4

wc -> 1.1k

masterlist | main masterlist | requests

the next morning came with a headache, two empty water bottles on your nightstand, and three missed dms. the first was from chris.

chrisMD: you’re a menace. flamingo facts live rent-free. next time: pub quidditch.

the second was a video from max fosh - shaky footage of you and arthur mid-“valerie,” yelling into a pub mic like you were auditioning for a sitcom about two people falling in love via amy winehouse.

and the third… was from arthur.

no text. just a selfie. slightly disheveled hair, duvet pulled up to his chest, sleepy grin. and a message quickly following it - still thinking about cube poop and diet-pink birds. brunch?

your heart betrayed you immediately. it did that weird little stutter - like it forgot how to beat for one full second before coming back with a crash.

you met up that afternoon at a tiny place in notting hill he insisted had “the best hash browns this side of london.” he wasn’t wrong. but if you were being honest, you barely tasted them.

because arthur in the daylight was a different kind of disarming.

gone was the pub-haze version: flushed cheeks, alcohol bravado, and silly commentary. in its place was something quieter - more deliberate. his hair still did that annoyingly perfect floppy thing, and his voice was still soft in that way that made everything he said feel just a bit more important.

he sipped his coffee. “so, still full of weird facts?”

you grinned. “always, it’s a condition. completely incurable.”

“tragic. guess i’ll have to stick around and suffer through it.”

“poor you.”

he laughed. but then he set down his fork and leaned forward, elbows on the table like he was about to confess something. the restaurant noise dulled around you, even though you knew it hadn’t actually changed.

“listen, i meant what i said last night.”

you blinked. that could mean several things.

arthur seemed to sense your uncertainty, so he clarified. “about liking you. before. and now. well, even more now.” he scratched the back of his neck like the words itched coming out. “it’s weird, right? one night and suddenly i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your stomach twisted, but not in a bad way. you just weren’t used to someone saying something like that and meaning it - especially not someone like arthur. smart, emotionally fluent, and possibly half-made of charm.

you could’ve made a joke. deflected. but you didn’t want to. not with him.

“it’s not that weird,” you said. “i’ve been thinking about you too.”

there. out. no take-backs.

arthur looked down at his coffee for a beat. then up at you. his gaze sharpened - focused in that quiet, attentive way he did when he was listening not just to what you said, but how you meant it.

“would it be crazy if i said i wanted to get to know you properly?” he asked. “off-camera. no pub golf. no chaos. just… you.”

you smiled. “only slightly. but I’m not particularly sane either.”

“brilliant,” he said, beaming.

that brunch turned into a walk, which turned into a shared playlist, which somehow turned into you guesting on one of arthur’s videos three weeks later.

it wasn’t planned. at least, not by you.

you were just in the background, originally. sitting off to the side while he filmed a lighthearted reacting to terrible tiktok advice bit. but at some point, he turned the camera toward you and asked, “as a certified facts machine, what’s your opinion on this guy’s take that drinking lemon water cures heartbreak?”

you blinked. the camera was rolling. but more importantly, he was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

so you said something snarky about citric acid and unresolved emotional trauma. arthur laughed so hard he wheezed.

the comments the next day were brutal in the best way.

randomuser1 - sorry but WHY do they have more chemistry than every netflix couple ever?

randomuser2 - arthur’s in love and we’re all just watching it happen like a nature doc

randomuser3 - if they don’t do a podcast or start dating immediately, i will RIOT.

you tried to ignore them. you really did.

but then arthur sent you a screenshot of one with the caption - let’s give the people what they want?

and that was that.

still, not everyone knew. not yet.

you were careful - meeting late, taking back entrances, always arriving and leaving events separately. it wasn’t that you were hiding. you just… wanted to keep it yours a little longer. before the internet tried to rename it and ship it and pick it apart.

but at another ‘youtube gathering’ - this time a chilled game night at willne’s - you forgot to be subtle.

you were sitting on arthur’s lap, his arms loosely draped around your waist as you quietly roasted him for his uno strategy. willne walked by, did a double take, and yelled, “OH, IT’S HAPPENING!”

everyone looked. phones came out. chris shouted something about being best man at the wedding. niko started filming. you were done for.

arthur just smirked and pressed a kiss to your shoulde, “guess we’re public now.”

later that night, the two of you slipped onto the balcony to breathe. the london skyline sparkled beneath you, the kind of fake-romantic that only works when you’re a bit drunk and deeply infatuated.

arthur leaned against the railing beside you, his knuckles brushing yours.

“you know,” he said softly, “that flamingo fact really did it.”

“you laughed. “you’re never letting that go, are you?”

“never. it was the moment. everyone saw it. even me. i just didn’t know how to admit it yet.”

you turned to face him, your smile slow and full. “and now?”

he stepped closer, closing the distance until there was only the buzz of shared breath between you.

“now i’m all in.”

and then he kissed you - soft and sure and entirely off-camera.

something real.

part three out tmr!!

tags - @wherethezoes-at

#british youtubers #george clarke fluff #arthur frederick #arthur tv #arthur hill #chrismd #niko #sidemen #youtube #writers on tumblr #fanfic

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cherryredcheol · 1 year ago

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just...suck?

tldr: you need him to what? mentions: dad!jeonghan, breastfeeding, nipple sucking (but not sexy(?)), reader can breastfeed but no gendered terms used. a/n: i have never been pregnant/breastfed. sorry if this is inaccurate. i have no idea where this came from this is not smut but DNI if you're under 18

“okay lovie, she’s down for a nap. which means we have about an hour before she wakes up again. what do you want to do? need a shower? want to watch tv? hungry?” jeonghan spoke softly, coming down the stairs into the living room, not looking up at you as he fiddled with the baby monitor in his hands.

hana was just about 3 months old and although jeonghan had done everything he could to help, you were still your baby’s main source of nutrition and you were tired. and to top it all off you were pretty sure you had a clogged milk duct and it hurt.

jeonghan looked up from the monitor when you didn’t answer and rushed to your side when he saw the tears in your eyes. “lovie, what’s going on? are you okay? what can i do?” he settled gently next to you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“hannie,” your words were choked, voice thick with emotion, “i need you to do me a favor.”

jeonghan nodded, “anything, lovie. name it and i’ll make it happen.” he waited for you to collect your thoughts, rubbing your back softly.

you sat up a few moments later, wiping at your eyes to catch the couple tears that fell, and let out a big sigh, “it’s quite possibly the least sexy thing ever, so please don’t laugh. i really need you.”

“lovie, anything you need, i’m here for.” he was looking at you so softly, all the love in the world held in his eyes.

your face flushed before you even got the first word out, but you were brave and asked with your whole chest, “i have a clogged milk duct and it fucking hurts. can you please try to suck the clog out?”

if your chest didn’t feel like it was being stabbed every time you took a breath, you would’ve laughed at the look on jeonghan’s face.

“um, yeah. sure.” jeonghan shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. he’s not sure what he was expecting your favor to be but this certainly wasn’t it. he gestured vaguely to your chest, “you want me to just…suck?” he could feel the heat crawling up his neck.

he’s not sure why he was so embarrassed. he’s done worse things to you than suck your nipple. hell, that was barely foreplay. but this was the first time since hana had been born that the two of you would have any kind of intimate touch beyond kisses. suddenly he felt like that young man he was when you two first met. back in his first apartment, his small room with beige walls that he paid way too much in rent for.

you were a vision on his bed. usually silver-tongued, jeonghan was rendered speechless at the sight of you topless. he couldn’t believe his luck. he likes you so much. you get all his jokes and make even better ones, you’re so smart, and not to mention pretty. he’s pretty sure you were straight out of his dreams and here you were on his bed, in his room. his roommates had actually listened and made themselves scarce this evening so he could be alone with you. you’d only been on a few dates but he knew he was in it for the long haul with you. he could just tell.

his eyes flashed back up to yours, shy smile on his face, “can i just…suck?”

you were positively pink, also shy suddenly, “if you don’t want to, it’s okay. i read online it’ll probably go away on its own.”

jeonghan took a deep breath and met your embarrassed eyes, “i’ll do anything for you, lovie.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan

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lightwing-s · 1 year ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: since your last encounter, jason has been living rent free in your head. you didn't want to, you needed more, and more found you in an unexpected way.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 7,6k warnings: yn's dirty thoughts, sex, p in v, language, breast play,

a/n: i got lazy and gave up proof reading (again). i also got too excited and ended up writing a lot more than planned, but hey, i got to watch 'the devil wears prada' to write this, so it's a win!! Hope you enjoy it and see you in chapter four.♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

“And the Blades are offside! Still no score here in Seattle, as the Gotham Blades and the Kraken face off in…” announced the caster excitedly, the game going on without Yn paying a dime of attention.

Sunday blues had gotten to you. Following an unusually chilly summer night, rain came pouring down just as you’d arrived home, covering the entire city in a dome of dullness and melancholy. Laying on your stomach, the living room darkened by the closed blinds, and the game on tv a long forgotten past time, the images of the previous night still loomed in your head.

‘Why did you do it, Yn?’, was the question clouding your mind the entire day. ‘Why did you do it?’

Why did you allow yourself to go to bed with the guy you despised? Why did you have those feelings in the first place? It was confusing. Everything about Jason was confusing. You never liked each other, and yet he’s all sweet and nice to you all of a sudden. He’s taking you to the hospital. He’s making sure you’re not alone. He takes you home, makes you food in the middle of the night. All after being an asshole for the past two months.

Why did he change? When did he change? Was he always like that but you never paid attention to, or was it just a play, a trick he’s trying to pull in your mind? Is he trying to confuse you purposely, trying to play with your mind? He wouldn’t, would he?

It if wasn’t for the knocking on your door, you’d continue to torture yourself for the next few hours. Thoughts of Jason and his fucked up game flooding your mind. You heard the knocking again, groaning loudly, not wanting to leave the warmth of the sofa. But the sweet voice calling your name made you do it.

“Thank god, you’re alive!” Nessie sang, throwing her hands up in the air. Her words did not match her expression, however, painted in the most perfect mix of anger, worry and bad hangover. “Where were you?!” she asked, and you too repeated that same question at her.

“I looked for you all over the party!” you answered exasperated.

“Me too!” she informed. “I looked for you all over and Sammy said he saw you leaving with a guy behind you and that you were pissed drunk. I was fucking worried!”

“Sammy means bullshit,” you angrily replied, storming back to the sofa as you let your neighbor and friend close the door behind her, knowing full well this conversation would last long. You threw yourself on your previous seat, pulling your blanket over your legs and crossing your arms on your chest like a little child.

“So, you didn’t leave with a guy?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised at you and a concerned expression adorning her face. “I swear to God, Yn, and I’m not even religious. If anyone did anything to you, I swear I’ll…”

“We didn’t do anything!” you basically screamed, feeling as if the room conspired against you. You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall out. You’d hoped you would be able to hide it. Leaving it a secret from the world could mean it was never real to begin with.

“So, there was someone?” she kept her eyes on you, sensing there was something more to it. Watching your usual polished self start to crumble into a nervous mess. You wanted to deny, gaslight your way out of this. But Nessie was smart, and she knew you. She could read all your signs and tell instantly none of your words spoke the truth.

There was nothing you could do. You were now on a crossroad where any direction, any ideas, wouldn’t take you anywhere. You had to spill it. “I couldn’t find you and Jason had helped me look…”

“Jason the hot guy you were pining after?” she cut you off, her face suddenly changing from concern to slightly but mild excitement.

“I was not pining after anybody!” you argued, trying once more to clear her mind out of these stupid ideas. “He was helping me look for you, and since you weren’t anywhere to be found he took me to his apartment because he was worried about leaving me alone, okay? He was nice and sweet, but nothing else happened. Nothing!”

Nessie sat silently beside you on the sofa, staring at you blankly while she absorbed all the information you ‘d thrown at her. Under your breath, you prayed she’d stop there, that she’d be satisfied with your answer. Unfortunately, God didn’t hear your prayers. “Nothing?” she whispered, a knowing smirk appearing in her face.

You had to let out a scream, muffling it with a pillow as you did not want anyone else trying to snoop in this mess of a situation. “Nothing,” you tried to argue once again, but her beaming smile and amused expression broke you all over, forcing your eyes to roll out in annoyance. “I basically threw myself on him.”

“Oh my god!” that bitch dared to be amused.

“I couldn’t keep my hand off of him, and we… w-we…” you trailed off, not wanting to finish your sentence, but your friend finished it for you. You fucked.

“Were you drunk?” she asked, a tinge of concern returning to her tone.

“I wish,”

“Was it that bad?” she wondered. “You’re acting like this is the end of the world, but you just had sex with the hot guy you were pining all over. What’s the big deal?”

“I was not pining over him!” you screamed again, and exasperatedly continued. “And what’s the big deal? He’s a biker gym rat who’s probably got no jobs or hobbies outside going to the gym. He’s covered in tattoos and probably uses tons of drugs, and guys like that could never be proper partners and will always lead you to trouble.”

“Gosh, you were planning your wedding then?” she blankly responded.

“What the fuck? No!” you were getting progressively irritated. It sounded that, to her, this all didn’t pass as more than a simple joke, not seeing the serious issue within it. “He’s just not the kind of guy I’d like to see myself mixed with. My parents warned me a-about guys like this…”

“Oh! So, this is about your parents then?” Nessie concluded, missing the point once more.

“It’s not about them!” you shook your head. You tried to come up with something, to continue your statement, but your mouth opened and closed without anything coming out of it. Sighing deeply, you felt your energy levels start to drain. “This always happens.”

Thinking back at countless similar situations, you watched your friend’s eyes turn softer. An awaiting glint in her eyes for the story to continue. “Every time I get upset over them, when they make me mad, I just… Explode? I go out and do something stupid, something that I know would piss them off, because…”

“You want them to explode?” she cut you, more an assumption than a question. “You want them to be just as mad at you?”

Combing your fingers through your hair, you stop and wonder. You let her words sink in, a lightness over being finally understood and finally understanding yourself overcoming you. It often scares you how well she knew and understood you with just a couple years of knowing each other, but maybe that was just the three semesters of Psychology lessons speaking.

“I always end up doing something stupid that I shouldn’t have done,” your voice softened a reply.

“So, you’re saying your parents were right, then?” she inquired once more.

“That’s not it, Nessie, I-I…” you stammered. “Oh my god, please let’s move on from this subject.”

By this point, you’d already messed up your hair from how much you had nervously combed your fingers through it. There was a small lump forming on your throat, and your hands were clasped on your face, shielding your eyes from your surroundings.

“So…” Nessie started. “Was he good?” Your head snapped quickly in her direction, eyes wanting to scold her but smile failing to do the same. Failing to hold corners of your lips, you allowed the smile to spread and rolled your eyes at her apparent enjoyment. “Was he big?”

You let out a snort at the inappropriate question, but filled her in. Mouthing a ‘thick’ back at her, she let her mouth hang open, closing her eyes in deep dirty wonder. ‘How much?’ she mouthed in return, and you scanned the room for something that could resemble his majestic girth, deciding upon signaling by holding your ankles with both your hands. Perhaps an exaggeration, but you’d let her sleep with that “lie” in mind.

Her mouth formed an ‘oh’, shocked at your response, and you could swear that just thinking about it was making you a little bit wet. You proudly nodded at her, perhaps too proud of it now. Proud of the incredible achievement of taking it all in.

“How big?” she bobbed one eyebrow up, challenging. You gave her a demonstration, placing your closed fists on top of each other. He wasn’t the biggest, but he compensated with girth. Gosh, stop thinking about him! “Lucky girl.”

“You wish,” you laughed.

“I definitely do now.”

It had been almost three weeks since you’d last seen him. Rearranging your entire schedule, you organized your new routine with the sole purpose of avoiding him at all costs. From the months you’d met him almost daily at the gym, you’d come to know what times he liked to train at: very early mornings, the start of the evening or just as the gym was about to close. Thus, making the process of building up a new schedule a lot easier.

Sure, it might’ve been a stretch to go this far to avoid him. And maybe your new routine was kind of terrible and actually sort of hindered your days. But those were measures you needed to take in order to keep yourself sane. You didn’t know what you’d do if you saw him again.

In fact, your days seemed to have gotten longer, as you spent more hours in traffic. However, the lack of Jason in your daily life seemed to have increased your happiness and tranquility. You didn’t have to worry about him being around you, ready to drop something on you at any moment. And living without his often sarcastic and teasing remarks was so less stressful. It felt like, for once, you could live your life without a shadow haunting your days.

Life at work was also simpler. Since your boss had decided that the American dating scene wasn’t for her, and instead started looking for a husband at different European social gatherings, she had been out quite often, spending her weekends away in Monaco, Paris or Milan, and missing many work days.

That left you with more time to write. It has always been your favorite thing to do, writing away your thoughts on a paper, even if it never made it out of your notebook.

Ideally, you wouldn’t be working as an assistant. But that was the best you could do after graduation, having to find a job quickly before your father dragged you out of Gotham definitely. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it allowed you to keep in touch with the area you desired to work on. Even better, you got to watch the life of an editor in chief right in front of your eyes.

It was the middle of the week, the day passing by slowly as you walked left to right through different rooms and floors to get whatever your boss needed done before today’s shoot. With summer approaching its end, ideas for the upcoming fall issues were thrown around, and now Sandra, your boss, was dead set that she needed at least something done by the end of the week.

Packing up your things and throwing them into your messenger bag, you hurriedly walked out from behind your desk right as Sandra was passing by. Following her footsteps, you two made your way out of the tall and imposing building of Wayne Publications.

“Did you get the samples I asked for yesterday?” she questioned, head glued forward, not moving to look at you.

“Yes, I do in fact,” you replied, handing her the thin deep blue sketchbook. “I made a collage for each designer with the pictures, just as you’d asked. Gio Waters had given me some when I interviewed her, and Nadia and her sister emailed me their looks this morning.”

You explained the process as you two continued to walk, people moving away from the infamous Runway Magazine’s editor in chief. “The collection isn’t finished, but it’s really interesting, I think you’ll like it. Everything is in there. A-and… Arkham’s Neglect…”

“Arkham’s Neglect?” she wondered out loud, facing moving slightly to show you the corners of a raised eyebrow.

“They’re this 80’s punk, anarchist, counter culture, all of… that, inspired new brand. They think the name sets forward the message they want to spread,” you explained the unusual group you sure found interesting while interviewing.

“And that message is…?” she prolonged her question.

“Only God knows,” you exhaled. Stopping in front of the building, where a lavish black car was parked awaiting her entrance, she finally turned back to face you.

“Yn,” she called you softly. “If you want me to take your idea seriously, you have to make more effort than this.” The clicking sound of her heels ceased as she entered the car, the door left open for you to close and circle around the vehicle to enter from the other side.

Working for Sandra was like working for Miranda Priestly, only it was actually nice. It’d started working for her even before you graduated college, and although very… honest with her words, she was always kind enough to at least listen to your ideas once in a while.

So hearing that feedback from her was kind of heart shattering. She had finally given you an opportunity to write something, not just carry her things around and take her meeting notes. Write. And you had been working harder than ever in it, using all of your free time on preparing, planning and writing it.

The car ride was quiet for a while, as you tried to free your mind from the self doubt she’d cast upon you. Sandra typed rapidly on her phone, and by the smile on her face you knew she must have been texting her new Italian boyfriend. So, you waited till she was done typing, eyes leaving the screen to resume your talking.

“Ibra messaged earlier saying everyone was ready and waiting at the studio. Stephanie, the photographer Mr. Wayne recommended, was already set. He said they are ready to start as soon as we get there,” you finished with a gulp, and knowing you well, Sandra turned to look at you.

“And what?” she questioned, voice monotone.

“One of the male models bailed out last minute, ” you informed, her fingers snapping to pinch the bridge of her nose. “He said they were trying to find him.”

“Or a replacement,” she cut you off.

“A replacement, of course.”

Sandra simply nodded in response, and resumed her incessant typing. You prayed she wasn’t sexting with the guy again, and to avoid another embarrassment, focused your eyes on the damp streets of Gotham. Grabbing your phone, you messaged one of the other assistants at the studio to let them know you’d need to find someone else to fill the empty spot.

As you made your way to the glass doors of the studio, you watched the people inside frantically move around, readying themselves for the grand arrival of Sandra Bevilaqua. Upon setting her Louboutin clad feet in the room, they all stopped. The Sandra effect.

“Ibra!” she called out for her favorite art director, and a tall and slender man came out from behind a white set of curtains and walked to her, giving her a quick embrace before turning to you with a brief acknowledgement.

Then, Ibra and Sandra stepped away from you, deep in discussion about the photoshoot at hand, and you took that as your cue to stay back and have a small break after the incessant running being Sandra’s assistant took. You needed coffee anyway.

You scanned the room looking for the small table that usually contained tons of cups filled with nectar of the gods to the brim. Warm and delicious. Finding the table just in a corner, close to the industrial style floor to ceiling windows. By the table stood a girl not much younger than you, camera in hand, and stealing a few snacks that were also placed on it.

“They got this Brazilian thing, they call it coxinha, I think. You should try that one, they’re really good” you suggested, taking a large cup that had ‘macchiato’ written on it as she turned to see you, a beaming smile on her face.

“I already got some of them,” she laughed, pointing to the napkin tucked inside her jacked pocket filled with those little snacks, and you had to let out a giggle too.

While she continued her nibbling and picking at the snacks on offer, you distracted yourself with the not unusual studio, a place you’d come to know now fairly well since starting to work at Runway. A few models recognized you too, waving hello and moving on with their preparations.

Being part of this world was quite insane, to be honest. You grew up having to hide your magazines under your bed because according to your religious parents it taught young girls to be “depraved” and “promiscuous” and not “wife material”. When you got the opportunity to work for them, you had to lie, and you still did, telling your parents you worked for Gotham Times instead.

You were too lost in thinking, watching the traffic move down the street, that you forgot you still had some work to do.

“Yn,” one of the other assistants ran to you. “Have you found the replacement?”

“I told you to find it!” you whisper-screamed, not wanting people to know you still had problems in your hand.

“I thought you would do it. You said…”

“Find a new model,” you repeated your text harshly at her.

“I-I thought y-you just sent it to me to remember to do it later,” she told you. Fucking stupid girl, you wanted to scream out, because you had something around ten minutes to start the shoot and one model still missing. But you were once in her spot, and you knew how upset she’d get after.

So you took your coffee and planned to walk out of the room in search of a model, even if you had to beg people on the street to do it. However, you didn’t count on someone blocking your way out, nearly causing you to drop your coffee if he wasn’t fast enough to hold the cup for you.

“Careful there,” he smiled, but your face turned to a frown as soon as you recognized the dark hair and the sky blue eyes. “Hello, love. Didn’t let it spill on you this time,” Jason winked, trying to initiate a conversation, a smugness set on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you removed your cup out of his grip, and bumping on his shoulder, walked away. Beelining to the corridor, you pulled your phone out and proceeded to search for the several phone numbers you’d be calling for the next few minutes. As you tried to think of what to say, rehearsing the words in your head, the blue eyed man would flock in instead, slowing your work down tremendously. But you had bigger problems to solve.

As you had anticipated, for the past ten minutes you had your phone glued to your ear, having called dozens of different modeling agencies begging them to send you someone, something, to save you. However, the best they could give you was “We can try, but it’s too last minute”. Well, fuck them. Now, you were about to run into the streets and start begging people to model for a fashion magazine.

“Yn!” you heard the soft yet powerful voice of your boss calling. Running back inside, you spotted her chatting with Ibra in the middle of the room. “Have you found a replacement?” she asked as soon as you arrived beside her.

“Errm… The agencies said it’s too last minute to find someone,” you offered, already awaiting reprimand.

“How come… How are we supposed to start the shoot then? Ibra!” she called Ibrahim again, words starting to just jump out of her mouth, something she rarely did, but that only happened when she was truly exasperated.

“We can start shooting the other models until Yn…” here it comes. “... finds someone else to fill the spot, yah?” he looked at you, eyes begging you to comply, and you did so, nodding incessantly as Sandra smiled away, happy with the option presented by the art director.

With a deep breath, you took another look around, tried to find something to distract yourself for just a moment. Mind working at a high voltage, you felt like you needed to decelerate, to take one, two, three breaths till your mind could start working again. The stressful situation making you instantly uneasy.

Your distraction came in the form of the raven haired demon, chatting happily with the blonde photographer you’d spoken to earlier. It then came to you dozens of questions about that situation. Why was Jason here in the first place? You’d only ever found him at the gym and at parties, and you honestly didn’t know what the hell he did for work, but he certainly didn’t work at anything related to this. This was your job, you knew everybody. He was never around before, unless…

Unless he knew the photographer.

She was beautiful. Long blond hair, eyes as blue as his, and an enchanting smile even you couldn’t deny. Were they together? She did seem a lot younger, but it’d be just like the type of guy he is to go after fresh, young babes. Urg. You hated him. Were you one of his young babes? Were just a dumb little fuck?

Urg. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Instead, you opted for burning holes in his head with your eyes, glued to the scene ahead of you. He was laughing, laughing, with her, like you were all a joke. If everything was… Stop, Yn. You won’t get mad at him. You won’t. But the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

“Yn?” Sandra snapped her fingers before your eyes, breaking you from your trance. “What are you doing? Have you figured it out already?”

“Hmmm… I’m still thinking,” you gave a half-assed reply. Your eyes lingered from her to the boy stuck in your head. And she must have been following your gaze, because her own head snapped to the two inappropriate flirts chit chatting on the corner. A bright smile forming on her red lips.

“Perfect,” she stated softly and took one step in their direction.

“Wait, no!” you screamed, pulling at her arm. “Jason isn’t a good idea.”

“You know him?” before you had the chance to fix your mess, she continued. “Have you seen him naked?”

You almost choked at her question, and could bet a million dollars your face must’ve turned red. “W-why would you think that? I don’t know him.” you lied, and she clearly saw through you, offering you a look adorned by her frowned eyebrows.

“You just told me his name, Yn. We’ll be needing him to pose shirtless for the shoot. We are, after all, doing a “Sculpted Bodies” issue. And he looks to be pretty muscular.” Taking her glasses from where they stood hooked to her neckline, she placed it on her nose to take a better look at the man in question, returning her walk in his direction. “Don’t tug at my arm again, you’re not my child and call Ibra to find this man a new outfit. Hey, you?”

She screamed, and like a magnet, all eyes were on the scene.

“Jason, isn’t it? Yn here told. We are in need of a new male model, would you go back there and change?” she let him no, offering him no other option.

“Jason can’t,” you tried to argue, and his eyes snapped to your frame.

“Why not?” he asked, smugness still prevailing on the way he talked to you. “I’d love to.”

“That would be an awesome idea,” the blonde photographer chimed in.

“Of course you think so,” you gave her a forced smile, holding yourself together to not roll your eyes in front of your boss. “He has work.”

“I do not,” he scoffed, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Perfect!” Sandra clapped. “Ibra honey, find this beautiful piece of man a new outfit.”

Turning around, Sandra walked away, the blonde photographer you didn’t even care to remember the name following suit, swaying her hips as she strolled on the wooden floor. Moving your face, you found Jason’s eyes still lingering on your, a dark smirk plastered on his face.

“Please, don’t,” you asked, almost begging if you weren’t too proud.

“Why?” his question was filled with amusement. “Your boss said it herself. I’m perfect.

“You’re ruining my day,” you hissed through gritted teeth. In an attempt to look intimidating, your closed wrists rested on your waist, but there was no way you could ever frighten Jason.

“Why? Can’t stand the sight of me for too long, love?” he now whispered dangerously close to your face. Hoarse voice making you shiver. “Didn’t think I’d noticed you avoiding me at the gym?”

“Someone here is paying a lot of attention to me, it seems,” you hit him back. You prayed no one around noticed your interaction, because they would see clearly that there was something going on between you two.

“I wasn’t the one staring, was I?” he deadpanned. If any of you moved an inch, your noses would be touching, and probably much else would follow. Gathering all your strength, you pulled back.

“Fuck you,” you whispered before moving away.

“Already did,” he bit back a smile, walking past you towards Ibrahim to go and get changed. His own hip swaying left to right as he walked, the movement hypnotizing you as he went.

Soon enough, all models were positioned on stage, barely sporting any clothes bar some thin skin toned underwear, transparent fabrics or one single piece of garment. Jason, in all his glory and toned chest, wore a pair of white boxer underwear that left evident the not so little friend he owned down there.

One makeup artist had bathed his chest with some kind of oil, sliding her dark blue nails over his entire torso. In clear fuck boy behaviour, a shadow of a smile loomed his face when he looked at her through his lashes. You felt a muscle on your jaw jolting at the interaction, deciding that you’d had enough, and would be much better off attending to something else.

You tried the coffee table, but not even a sweet macchiato could clear your mind of the man you fucked and wished would desintegrate. Through the corner of your eye, you dared to steal one more look at him, only to find his eyes already set on you. Even from afar, you noticed them darkening, changing their essence to something that left you uneasy. In desperate need of air.

Truth be told, this man rented a four story penthouse with three hundred bedrooms in your mind since the night you’d slept over at his. Occupying a space that once was free to help you function properly, but now, you were a horny mess 90% of the day. Yes, you touched yourself to his picture lingering in your memory countless times since that day. And each one of them made you feel better than the other.

However, none of them had you feeling as good as he had made you feel that night. None of them had his touches to drive you wild, or gave you the feel of his tongue on your nipples. None of them whispered dirty things in your ear. But more specifically, none of them made you come as much as he did in just one night.

Shaking those thoughts away, you averted your eyes from his and sat down on a puffer chair, watching the photoshoot with an empty head. The group shot was done, as Stephanie, as you remembered, dismissed the other models to start on the individual shots. And to no surprise of yours, she had Jason shoot first.

He posed and flexed his muscles to her loud cheers and claps, letting out laughs and hypnotizing smiles you found yourself hooked to. Their partnership was evident, as Jason understood her words and requests promptly, and you had to admit she seemed to know just which angles and positions he’d look hotter.

Sandra and Ibra watched the little show just attentively as you did, but you were sure the thoughts in your head never crossed theirs. Giving short jumps, and faking boxing punches, he turned the playful shoot into something more intense. His eyes, eyebrows and his whole demeanor change drastically, to now exuberate this dense, dark, sensual, almost pornographic, aura.

He lowered the hem of his underwear a bit, showing you the trail that had driven you crazy the last time you peered at it. Now, it was on full display to you, and you had to bite down at your lip to hold in the moan you wanted to let out. He turned around, showing you his back, with his side profile setting up what you already thought would be the perfect picture. You wondered if any of your marks could be seen on his back, if Stephanie could see them from up close.

Your breathing hitched, and you had to cross your legs and feel just a bit of friction there to pull yourself back together.

The music in the studio shifted. The dark, sexy tunes of The Weeknd turned into the more upbeat pop rock sound of SZA’s F2F, a surprise to you, given the feel and themes of the photoshoot, but something that totally spoke to you in this moment of your life.

You couldn’t take him out of your mind, you thought of him until you fell asleep. You wondered if he planned on making Stephanie the girl for tonight. Or worse, if he’d already done it, done her. It had been a while since that night, he wouldn’t take that long to find someone else to fuck like he did to you. Fuck like he fucked you.

The thought made you feel nauseous.

Just as the next line began, the sudden realization of your feelings hit you like a train. The need to be slammed against a wall, picked up and fucked like you would never need your legs again, justified by the light blue shade indicating your ovulating period on your tracker app. That explained everything, you thought, finding the only possible way you could ever be this crazy about a man.

When Miss SZA said ‘Now I’m ovulating and I need rough -’, that was it. No truer words were ever spoken. Just his presence was enough to make your thoughts incoherent, but having him doing all those poses and stares was driving you insane. Oh, how it sucked to be a woman in heat!

You didn’t realize you bit your lips until the silvery taste of blood hit your tongue, and you averted your eyes from him to instead stare at your own nails. Afraid that if your eyes lingered on him for much longer, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.

When Stephanie’s voice trapped your attention to something the distance didn’t let you decipher, you felt a tightness in your chest. A weird feeling of fear, anxiety and desire mix together, as Jason refocused his sight on you, walking slowly in your direction. His man tits bounced as he walked, perfectly muscled, and perfectly fit for the photoshoot.

Where were you with your head, you thought. There was no way Sandra would have ever listened to your nonsensical words, he was clearly perfect for that. His body was perfectly sculpted, as if he was handmade by Michelangelo himself, and perfectly decorated by his countless tattoos.

You assessed him. Up and down. Every inch, every single detail. Eyes lingering longer than you should, as he walked to you slowly. His eyes darker than you remembered, the bright blue turning deep. His body moved light, lighter than a feather it seemed, as if he glided instead of walk. Everything in him screamed godlike, and you licked your lips as your mouth seemed to dry. Still focused on you, he licked his own lip, making you feel…

Yn. What are you doing?

Breaking away from your thoughts, your eyes widened from the realization of what your mind was doing to you, rushing away from your. Out of the room, out of the building, out of here. You felt your heart race, speeding faster than a Formula 1 car. The air trapped in your lungs, making it harder to breath.

“Ouch,” you heard someone complain from behind you, as you closed the door without looking and sprinted towards one of the corridors. “Yn!” you heard his voice call, but you could not stop. Fuck, why is he here?

Taking a corner, you found a door leading to some outside area when Jason’s grip stopped you from taking any step further.

“What the fuck did I do to you?” he questioned bitterly. You had to roll your eyes at that. What haven’t you done?

You tried to remove yourself from his grip, but he was insistent. “What the fuck did you do to me?” you laughed sarcastically, finding amusement at his clueless question. “God you’re fucking infuriating.”

Turning around, you forced his hold off, but you were playing yourself if you ever thought you could fight him. You basically dragged him along, but in reality he didn’t move an inch. He was heavier and stronger than any weights you pulled at the gym.

“Oh, you leave my apartment like a mad woman. Did everything so you wouldn’t have to face me for weeks and tried to sabotage a job opportunity, and I am the one who’s infuriating?” he spat out. His face getting red from anger.

“Haha, you were not even supposed to be here!” you spat in return.

“Oh, so am I not supposed to support my little sister?” he inquired. You went quiet.

His sister. His fucking sister. How stupid were you. “You’re ruining my job,” you tried to find an argument. Something to fight him back.

“I saved your job right there!” His eyes grew large, burning into yours. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t particularly right.

“Let me go! You’re hurting me,” you nearly cried out, wanting to flee this situation desperately. He let you go, and in his eyes, for the brief moment you dared to look in them, you found a shadow of guilt.

With heavy footsteps, you made a beeline to the door, feeling the lump on your throat tightening.

“You can’t take that night off your head too, can you?” he voiced, and you had to stop. He was thinking of it too, all this time. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down. Swans, rainbows, blue ice cream, new skin care products. Anything good thoughts to take him, this, out of your brain.

“You’ve been thinking of it all day. All night,” he continued, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You felt him behind you, a looming shadow above your small frame. “My lips on your neck. Your nipples,” he said, fingertips gracing your exposed arms. “My fingers inside you.”

Your eyes were closed. Picturing every scene, every word that left his mouth. He was right, you couldn’t shake him off your mind, but so couldn’t he. He was just as much stuck on it as you. You was just as much in his mind and he was in yours. Just as pathetic.

You felt his breath touch the skin on your neck, and his fingers pulling your hair out of your shoulders. “Me ripping you apart,” he whispered, voice carrying so much lust you had a hard time holding up.

You didn’t.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you noticed his heavy breathing. His oily chest rising and falling, almost touching your back. So close you felt the bulge in his underwear sliding against your bum. Beside you, you found a door.

Then, you made a promise. If the door was locked, you would leave him there, you would not look back. You’d forget everything and anything about Jason. However, if it was open…

It was. Opening into a small and empty room, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. And then, looking at him from over your shoulder, you begged for confirmation. You begged him to say he felt it too. That he needed it too.

Bobbing his head to the side, he motioned towards the opened room, telling you to get in. You did.

As soon as Jason closed the door behind him, you pushed him against the wall, frantically searching for his lips and finding it in a desperate, needy kiss. You needed him, you were starving for him. You needed his lips, you needed the air in his lungs. His breath, his warmth, his hands all over your body. You needed every single piece of him he had to offer, because he’d been in your head all week long, making you mad, deconcentrated, a mess. And he needed to pay for all that.

Spinning you two around, Jason had you pinned against the wall. Your legs didn’t waste time before wrapping around his waist, and it took him no effort to find a place for his hands on your ass, holding you up and close. You kissed ferociously, hungrily. Your tongues battled each other, struggling for power. Your fingers at the nape of his neck tugged at the hairs and he moaned inside your lips. Just like the last time.

But unlike last time, you did not have time to waste.

Pulling his dick out of his underwear, you let your legs go from his waist to take off your jeans. “Someone is eager,” he joked.

“Shut up!” you snapped, bringing him back for another deep kiss. He stroked his penis and you could feel his hands moving close to your belly. Your naked ass hit the cold stone wall, and your body jolted a little. Pulling at your waist, Jason had you bent over a desk in no time.

He tickled your folds with his head, but your hands on his wrist told him you were not playing today. He slammed inside of you with no second thoughts, and you almost let out a scream if it wasn’t for his mouth slapping on your lips. You felt your insides burn, his girth ripping you open as he slammed his dick in and out of you with speed. His calloused hand smacked against the soft skin of your ass, letting out a loud sound around the room. You nearly cried, body shaking as the skin burned where he had hit.

The smell of sex filled the room, as the sound of him hammering against your juices echoed on the walls. Jason started grunting behind you, his throat releasing feral sounds that had you hitting your high in less than a minute. Not much later, you felt the warmth of Jason’s seed filling you up, and your mind freaked out for a brief moment before it was clouded again once he forcefully turned you around and tackled you in another kiss.

Sitting on the desk, you brought him closer by his penis, pulling it in yourself and starting to grind against his crotch. Jason let a laugh vibrate through your body, mouths still tangled together, holding tightly at your thighs and thrusting hard inside of you. He slid a hand inside your shirt, taking one of your breasts out of your bra and pressing it so hard a tear formed in your eye.

Whatever the hell you two were doing now felt incredible. Your mind was starting to go numb again, and the tightness you’d feel minutes earlier had already returned. You let out a few cries in Jason’s mouth, as his teeth picked at your bottom lip, making sure you’d leave here with them red and swollen.

He didn’t care if anyone notice you’d just fuck. He wanted to parade it around. The thought of everyone knowing he had you all fuck over in an empty room making his release shoot within you once again. However, he didn’t stop until he felt you wall clenching around him, milking all he had left as your own milk slid through your legs.

As you tried to steady your breath, Jason left pecks on your lips, cheeks, and eyes. God damn it, he loved your fucked out face, he loved you post sex glow. He loved…

You search for his lips. They were warm, and without them you felt cold. You felt him moving out of you, and the emptiness afterwards. He resumed his little pecks on your lips after he’d put his penis back inside his underwear, handing you yours to put back on. You took them, but instead of putting them on, let it hand over his shoulders and you pulled him into a deeper kiss.

This one, though, was passionate. Slow, careful. It made your stomach spin, and the butterflies get busy in your core. It was good, and you wanted to be in it forever. You wanted to…

No! A voice screamed in your head, and you pushed him away immediately. You do not have feelings for Jason. You do not.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason asked, a hand on his lower lips taking you to the bite you’d just given it.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you screamed exasperated, putting your pants back on. “You are what’s wrong with me, Jason. You!”

“Me?! You’re the one who threw yourself on me,” he threw his hands up in defeat.

“After you kept putting things in my head…”

“Me? I keep… What the fuck do you have in that fucking head?” he cut you before losing his temper. You were truly something incredible.

“A brain. Something you lack, perhaps,” you replied harshly. “You keep making me do these stupid things.”

“I didn’t make you do anything, you know it well,” he stated, hands hanging on his hips, looking at you as if you'd just gone mad. Perhaps you really had. “Stop acting like an innocent little angel, because you’re nothing of it. Nothing!”

You let your mouth hang open, flabbergasted that he dared to say something like that. You know you were no angel, but he was completely missing the point. “That’s not it!”

“And what is it then?” he inquired, anger painting his face red once more.

“You’re just a fuck boy,” you screamed and he stopped in his tracks. “If you think I’d waste my fucking time in a lowlife like you, you’re just fucking wrong!” you spat out. The words had left your mouth before you could properly think of them, emotions taking over your thinking process. But they were out, and they hurt Jason more than he’d like to admit. It felt like something broke inside his chest, the shattered glass of what once was his heart.

“You’re the one who acts like a stupid spoiled bitch,” he returned, soon regretting it. Your eyes filled with water, and some tears fled without your consent. Those were the words that hurt you the most to hear. Not because they were new, but because you’d been told that countless times, to the point you actually believed it.

Opening the door with rage, you ran out of the room and stomped your way outside of the building. A single tear sliding down your face, the effort you put to keep the others in taking inimaginable strength.

When you got to the reception, the other assistant from earlier noticed you coming her way. “Yn,” she called worriedly.

“Tell Sandra I’m heading out. I’m feeling sick.”

The cold wind welcomed you outside, forgetting everything you’d left in the studio to head home. You wanted to fall to the ground, curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out. Never have you felt this upset and frustrated. And it wasn’t even Jason’s fault. So you arrived home, threw yourself on the sofa, and allowed the tears to fall.

A single tear fell from your eye as you stared blankly at your bathroom door. You were curled up on the floor, hugging your knees against your chest, waiting for those damned three minutes to be over.

You were late. Weeks late. And anxious thoughts were starting to take over. You would be fucked. Your parents would kill you. It would ruin everything. You were too young, and you were just starting your career. It just can’t be happening. There was no way you could do it on your own. That was not part of the plan.

The lump in your throat only got tighter. Counting the seconds desperately, you missed the count dozens of times, but you were sure the wait was now over.

Forcing yourself to stand up, you take slow steps to your sink. Getting the white and blue stick in your trembling hands, you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Too afraid of the reality it could bring you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Red eyes, puffy cheeks. You don’t even remember brushing your hair today. Taking a deep, prolonged breath, you take a look down. The eight letters showing on screen scaring you shitless.

Pregnant.

Oh, fuck!

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @jasontoddslover ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo

#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

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why-the-heck-not · 11 months ago

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it's the year 2037 and a new month is ahead of you!! Time to spend 90% of ur paycheck today for all the subscription services that are pretty much necessary now (Your bank takes "payment fee" out of everything bill u pay, so u gotta pay some bucks extra for each) !! Your grocery store has a membership card that u have to pay for, if you want to even get inside. No way to get any movies/tv-shows/music without streaming services. The appliances in ur home are subscription-based usage fee (under the guise of "well, the software updates, u gotta pay and also have no option to opt out"), and most of the things you own, you basically just rent & never have the chance of ever paying enough to actually own them. You missed a payment and ur smart-fridge stopped working. You're trying to find a not-smart, non-AI fridge, but those are super expensive, and only for the rich who claim moral superiority over regular ppl bc "they don't use any of that brain-rotting AI-technology". You're trying to choose whether to use your coffee machine or your microwave for the month bc you can't afford to pay for both of those subscription fees this month. You've already used your monthly picture limit in your phone, and would have to update your subscription package for a more expensive one, if you wanted to take more

#hello im stressed and annoyed today #july 2024 #2024

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mariacallous · 13 days ago

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Zohran Mamdani is a left-wing daydream of a New York City mayoral candidate. He’s young—33—and proudly socialist. His campaign ads call to mind a mashup of TikTok clips and hip-hop videos. The graphics look like something from the zany 1960s Batman TV series. He is a character in these ads, walking into the picture at odd angles on street corners and shawarma stands, and popping up to chat with taxi drivers.

You’d need to have a crabbed spirit not to admire Mamdani’s inventiveness, charisma, and championing of working-class New Yorkers. A third-term state assemblyman of no great accomplishment, he has upended the field in the June 24 Democratic Party primary, leaving better-credentialed opponents behind. He now runs a vigorous second in independent polls behind former Governor Andrew Cuomo and has formed alliances with lower-ranking rivals that benefit him most of all. But Mamdani’s candidacy also has a quality of magic realism, a campaign exuberantly disconnected from actual government budgets and organizational charts. His promises are grand: Freeze rents. Free municipal buses. Free day care for all New Yorkers ages six weeks to 5 years.

And, my personal favorite: cheap groceries.

How would he pay for his most ambitious plans? Tax the rich and major corporations.

Writing in In These Times, the author Bhaskar Sunkara sounded enraptured: “We need more democratic socialists who can do what Mamdani can do,” Sunkara wrote. “Communicate complex ideas clearly, relate to ordinary people without pandering and present a vision that feels achievable rather than utopian.”

Reading this, I rolled my eyes. Mamdani is a clever politician who can wink at his base—a new Marist poll of likely primary voters shows him a strong favorite among those under 45 and those who are “very liberal”—even as he flirts with less ideologically driven followers. Who, after all, objects to frozen rents and free buses? He grasps that New York City, like so many of this nation’s big Democratic-run cities, has grown oppressively expensive, culturally liberal, and economically royalist. Two-bedroom apartments rent for $6,000 a month in upper-middle-class neighborhoods, while one-bedroom apartments in what used to be working-class areas go for $3,500. The top 1 or 2 percent rule while the majority of New Yorkers scramble.

But few of Mamdani’s policy and funding proposals weather scrutiny. And that calls into question what might happen to his socialist political project should he end up overseeing a $112 billion city government with about 306,000 employees, and dealing with a president who would revel in using a left-wing New York mayor as a piñata. Perhaps Mamdani would be forced to moderate—and quickly—in office. He has promised to hire very smart people; that could help, although very smart, alas, is not universally synonymous with competent.

And his very smart aides might struggle, for instance, to make his housing proposals work.

Mamdani has promised to create 200,000 units of new publicly subsidized, rent-stabilized housing and to fast-track projects consisting entirely of below-market-rate units. His campaign website claims that previous administrations relied “almost entirely” on the zoning code to encourage affordable housing. This is not so. For 40 years, New York has run the nation’s most ambitious and successful affordable-housing program, which rebuilt great swaths of the city using billions of dollars in municipal investment. Zoning changes to allow more housing construction are of recent vintage.

“Zohran and his advisers don’t know history and don’t have the slightest grasp of the numbers,” a former top city housing official told me. (He asked not to be identified because he still works with the city on affordable-housing projects.) Mamdani himself has proposed to triple the amount of money spent on housing in the city’s capital plan, pushing overall costs toward $100 billion over 10 years, which overshadows the estimated cost of his rivals’ plans. And he proposes to accomplish this with union labor, which the city’s Independent Budget Office found would add 23 percent to overall costs.

Meanwhile, Mamdani’s proposal to freeze rent in rent-stabilized units ignores fundamental problems: Landlords of much of the city’s rent-stabilized housing stock—including a number of respected nonprofit groups—cannot afford maintenance costs and debt service, the watchdog Citizens Budget Commission wrote recently. Because expenses are growing faster than rents in older buildings, many are “teetering on the edge of a ‘death spiral.’”

I reached out to Mamdani’s campaign for comment on these issues and have not yet heard back. His supporters seem unbothered by the obvious holes in his proposals. His tax increases sound righteous, a socialist holding the wealthy to account. But the state legislature and governor would have to sign off, and that is a very distant possibility.

Former Governor David Paterson once represented Harlem in the state assembly, and he opposed neither higher taxes nor social spending. But Paterson recognizes the line between ambition and fantasy. Mamdani doesn’t. “You understand exactly what he’s saying,” Paterson told Politico last month. “The problem is: Nobody told him there’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”

Mamdani has gained traction in no small part because the front-runner in this primary race is Cuomo, a double-espresso politician whose rivals on the left attack him as corrupt and in the thrall of conservative real-estate and financial lobbies. That caricature ignores that Cuomo was a successful and liberal governor. He rebuilt bridges and roads and subway tunnels, and gave a makeover to LaGuardia Airport, previously a dump. He turned the dream of gay marriage into law, championed abortion rights, and banned fracking. Under pressure from then–Mayor Bill de Blasio, he brought expanded prekindergarten to many corners of the state. He made state-university tuition free for full-time students from families with incomes of less than $125,000, passed legislation that protected tenants against large rent increases, and raised the minimum wage.

My accounting here will set some liberal friends to shuddering, so let me add caveats: Cuomo can be devious and vindictive as a matter of blood sport; as the secretary of Housing and Urban Development, he reportedly passed out copies of Machiavelli’s The Prince to aides. In Albany, he cut deals with political bosses and wreaked vengeance on opponents. He made a grievous error in the desperate early days of the pandemic. At that time hospitals were overwhelmed by the sheer number of COVID patients, and Cuomo required nursing homes to readmit medically stable elderly patients who had tested positive. The health-news site STAT News reported that these transfers were not the primary driver of nursing-home COVID deaths. But certainly some nursing-home residents got infected and died as a result—and Cuomo’s administration hid the data. “Ethicists said that Cuomo’s conduct stands out not because the policy he put in place was especially egregious, but because he obscured public health data for political gain,” STAT News reported.

Cuomo stepped down as governor after being accused of multiple cases of sexual harassment—allegations that he largely denies today. And he has dodged and weaved to avoid the press and its questions during this campaign.

From Cuomo’s history, some conclude that he’s interested only in power and preserving the status quo—in contrast with Mamdani, who has framed himself as a tribune of the forgotten and the poor. The latest Marist poll showed Mamdani gaining among Latinos in particular; until recently, his support was strongest among white Democrats. But polls continue to point to an unsettling irony for the left: Mamdani outperforms with men and college-educated voters, while Cuomo finds his deepest well of support among Black and low-income voters. Cuomo draws 49 percent of the vote from New Yorkers making $50,000 or less; Mamdani draws 14 percent.

Although Mamdani still trails Cuomo by 10 points in Marist’s estimate of the final vote count, he has surged since the pollster’s previous report in mid-May. He is now marching about the city in the company of Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who has endorsed him. So has Senator Bernie Sanders. But transmuting socialist dreams into electoral victory is a tricky business, and governing by those principles could prove trickier still.

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millionshadesofme · 2 months ago

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I rewatched Mysterious Lotus Casebook for the God-knows-how-many times. But this time i watch with my father. And with him, I can't watch it in a random sequence because of course he has to know the premise, the conflicts, the layers, and everything. We watched it in total of around a month and a half (we are busy, and he doesn't know how to open iQiyi through our smart TV, so whenever we want to watch it's either me waiting for him or him me).

Then... just this evening he asked me, "what if... just what if... Li Xiangyi became the top martial artist in Jianghu and established Sigu not without purpose? One can be a prodigy but be unseen at the same time. But Li Xiangyi wants to be seen. Is it because he wants to be found by Di Feisheng? There must be something between them before the Great Battle."

I said, "I suppose Li Xiangyi was barely 20 when he established Sigu. Imagine he's like a university student whose mind is still freshly shaped by the intriguing thoughts and new knowledge in university that make he think he knows everything after attending three or four classes in a week especially if the university is the bonafide one. He just wants to hold and preserve justice. He happens to have all the privileges that we don't see that enable him to establish Sigu. Perhaps... he ascends to the peak because no one is as great as him."

"Fair enough. But it's a great battle. The friction is way too great for some strangers."

"Perhaps, Li Xiangyi was blindingly mad because the body of his beloved shixiong was stolen."

And the conversation ends just like that. But for me, the question "Is it because he wants to be found by Di Feisheng? There must be something between them before the Great Battle," will definitely rent free in my head. Someone please enlighten me.

#mysterious lotus casebook #lian hua lou #this is so random

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gh0stly-pages · 8 months ago

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Out of Our Minds (Part Two)

Ledger! Joker x f! reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of violence

Words: 5.6k

Chapter Summary: Your second session with the Joker, and as you try and make sense of his mind, you can't help but feel a pull to him

previous part: Part 1 | next part: part 3

Notes: Here's the next part! Just an fyi, this fic will def veer far from actual Dark Knight canon, but that means more surprises >:) Also, as much as this is a Harley-esque story, dont worry cuz I'm not gonna make their relationship physically abusive or anything, my Joker ain't gonna throw you out a window or anything lol. Just wanted to clarify. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! It was fun to write. Watched a lot of Arkham games gameplay while working on this, good times lol.

You wake up with a message that your rent is rising.

You grumble, taking the piece of paper someone had slid beneath your door and crumpling it. They didn’t even have the decency to call? The rent has gone up a hefty amount, and you aren’t even sure how you’re gonna support yourself this month. You might have to fall back into taking shifts at a local diner, working nights, as much as that kills you. But you have no other option.

That, and you’ve only just started working on the Joker, so no raises quite yet.

Speaking of the Joker, you're exhausted from reading up on all his schemes, not one but two nights in a row, but you feel a bit more confident about dealing with him now. Last time, you went in pretty blind. This time, you have at least a hint of what you’re dealing with. Article after article about his crazy antics with Batman, some that you lived through, others you only caught glimpses of on the news. One thing is for sure, he is much more messed up than you thought, which, considering what you already do know about him, is saying a lot. His antics are on a scale larger than you’ve ever seen before. Everyone else seemed to wonder the same things as you, with all the articles trying to dive to explain the cause behind the crimes, some hint of who Joker really is. All of them bringing up theory after theory of who he may have been before his life of crime. You’ve compiled them all together to try and get a sense of it all.

You hope that’ll be enough for now.

Before you leave for work, you throw on the news, quickly stuffing a piece of toast in your mouth, watching as the host rambles on and on about how Batman hasn’t been spotted since the death of Harvey Dent. Since the Bat killed multiple people. The police have been looking for him for days, and yet there’s been no sign, and you don’t think there ever will be. Not soon. If he’s smart, he’ll stay hidden. Especially with the climate outside, with all the vigils for Dent, people in the streets crying out for Batman or against him. The newscaster looks almost upset over Batman being gone but you snort. If he killed multiple people, was he really as good a guy as people thought he was?

You shake your head and turn the TV off. Nope. Batman wasn’t anything special. If he wanted to save the people of Gotham, then you’d be right there waiting.

What was it that Joker had said? Nobody does things because they’re selfless. Batman wanted to be a hero and, well, he had failed.

Nobody was coming to save Gotham. Nobody was coming to save you.

————————————————-

Work is bustling as soon as you get there, with your fellow psychiatrists moving in and out of the break room, the smell of coffee wafting through the halls. Everyone tends to just ignore you, shuffling past you without even a second glance, sometimes bumping into you, causing you to nearly fall on your ass. You huff, quickly grabbing a cup of coffee and a few of your things before you go see the Joker. As you sip idly, two other psychiatrists you’ve never learned the name of come up to you, smiling at one another. “Hey,” says one of them, a girl with curly red hair. “Is it true you’re working with Joker?”

The other, a man with chestnut hair and a matching beard nods. “Yeah, we heard how Joker’s here now, and that Dale put you on the case.”

You stiffen, not liking any of this unwanted attention. Whenever people come up to you, it’s usually just to lecture you, you’re not used to people wanting to hear about your patients. You should’ve expected this, especially considering how infamous the Joker has become. But of course, people are only coming up to you for something they need, entertainment in this case, not for you. “Yeah,” you answer curtly. “I am.”

They look at one another with wide eyes. “Woah!” the curly haired girl gasps. “I saw all the other people they sent in to try and deal with him. They were all messed up in the head after.” She laughs, even though you don’t find it funny. “Is he really as wild as they say?”

“He’s mentally unwell, and I’m trying to help him,” you say. If they want some kind of crazy story, they’re not gonna get one. “Joker isn’t some kind of nut case for you to all gossip over, he’s a patient.”

The two psychiatrists’ excitement fades away as they just stand there and look at you. “Geez,” the bearded guy mutters. “Someone’s protective over him.”

Protective? Over Joker? Please. “I’m not protective. But we need to take every patient seriously, no matter how… over the top they are.”

Curly haired girl scoffs. “He’s more than just that, he fought Batman.”

“Because Batman is any better?”

“Someone’s defensive.” She snorts. “All I’m saying is that this guy is so much more than any of us have ever dealt with. The other people they sent in were some of the strongest people. Joker doesn’t just break things, he breaks people. He’s evil.” Her serious tone is immediately broken by a smile. “Who knows though. If you’ve lasted until another session, maybe he likes you.”

Like is far too kind of a word. Even then, you know they’re just teasing, and you hate it. You glare at the two of the psychiatrists. “You guys aren’t dealing with him, and until you are, then don’t try and analyze him.” Ducking your head, you rush between them, and they whisper but you don’t care as you try and find a corner to isolate yourself in. As you’re walking away, you smack straight into something, gasping as you stumble backwards.

You look up to see Mr. Dale, who sneers and dusts off his suit. “Miss l/n, good to see you again,” he says drily.

Screw my life. “Good morning, Mr. Dale,” you mumble. “I am so sorry-“

He cuts you off by shoving something into your hands. A rolled up newspaper. You open it up and see the headline. Batman Still Not Found After Five Dead At His Hand! “I assume you’ve seen all this news?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Joker, that’s who.” He snatches the newspaper back from you, tossing it into a nearby trash can. “You haven’t mentioned anything about Batman to him, have you?”

You shake your head. “No… I- I assumed he already knew-“

“Well, he doesn’t. I should’ve told you last time, but I thought Batman may have been found innocent by now. Reversed his claims. I was wrong.” Dale coughs. “Joker doesn’t know a single thing about what’s happening out in the world. And we intend to keep it that way.”

“Mr. Dale, doesn’t he have the right to know-“

“Know what? That Batman is in hiding? That Dent is dead? That’ll only motivate him further. He’ll think he won! He’ll think that it's up to him to drive Batman out of hiding!” As people turn to look at you two, Dale drops his voice. “You’re not to let him know anything past the day he was brought in, got it?”

The more you think about it, the more you realize Mr. Dale is probably right. If Joker did find out that Batman went into hiding, it might offer motivation. For what, you’re not sure. Still, there’s something that feels wrong about leaving Joker in the dark, especially when the person he was trying to stop had been a murderer all along. “Got it.”

He smiles, and it’s anything but friendly. “Good. Now, I believe your session starts soon, wouldn't want to leave the Harlequin of Hate waiting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

——————————————-

After another round of checkpoint after checkpoint, you walk into the room with the Joker, who looks the same as the other day you saw him, still without makeup, still tucked away in a straitjacket. Even though you saw him once before, after days of searching him up, seeing the photos of him with his greasepaint on, you still get a lump in your throat as you see this other side of him. Seeing him like this feels strange, and you may as well be one of the only people to have ever seen him without his signature mask. Scars and all.

As you walk in and take your seat, he smiles, showing off his yellowing teeth. “Well, hello, doll face. I’ve been lookin’ forward to this.”

You settle into your chair, taking out your clipboard, which holds all your notes from the past two nights. Joker’s words could be sweet, but he’s basically been placed on this Earth to mess with people, so you don’t read too much into it. “Oh, really?”

“Oh yeah, doll. They, ah, never let me talk to anyone anymore. Got me locked up at all times. Ain’t that sad?” He giggles. “Don’t see anyone these days but the guards. And they just like to yell at me.”

You haven’t actually seen the way they treat the Joker. Once you’re done with a session, you’re quickly filed out and headed into the break room until your next session with another patient. But you’re sure it isn’t pretty. If they treat other, less taxing patients horrible enough, you can only imagine what they do to the Joker. “Well, rest assured, I won’t be yelling at you. Now, we have a full session today, so I really do want to get started. So,” you lean in and smile, “where should we begin? Most people would like to focus on the past, but I think maybe we should work our way back. How are you feeling right now?”

He licks his lips. “Oh, ya know, as good as a guy can be rotting away in this shithole.” He sways his head from side to side, clearly antsy, and you can tell that if he had his hands out, he’d be gesturing wildly with them. “But I’d say I’m much happier now that you’re here, doc.”

Joker was a master of many weapons. It seemed he wielded charm with the same mastery. You ignore his attempts at getting to you. “You’ve been in Arkham for a few days now. Have you been reflecting on yourself?”

Joker’s mouth smacks together. “Reflection? I’ve certainly been thinkin’, that’s for sure. Nothin’ else to do.”

You scribble that down, perking up. “Really? And what have you been thinking about?”

“All the things I’m gonna blow up when I get out of here.”

Immediately, you deflate, and Joker erupts into thunderous laughter. Of course. What the hell were you expecting? But it’s only the second day, of course he’s not exactly gonna be a changed man. “That’s all you’ve been thinking about? Is there anything in particular you’re excited to get back to?” You’re pretty sure Joker has absolutely nothing to lose, but you ask anyway. “No friends? Family? A lover?”

At the last bit, he guffaws loudly. “Why do you ask, sweetheart? Jealous?” He licks the inside of his cheeks. “Don’t worry, doll face, I’m definitely, ah, available.”

Now you wish you didn’t ask. If it were anyone else, you’d probably groan and give them a good look at your middle finger, but there’s something about the way that Joker says it that nearly makes you blush. It’s incredibly inappropriate, but you can’t deny he has a way of saying things that make you, well, react. Just another one of his deceptions, another skill he’s mastered. You know better than to give in. “I wasn’t asking for that,” you clarify harshly. “So, no family. Obviously, you don’t want to stay cooped up in here forever. There’s got to be something you want to go back out there for, and I feel like that same thing you’re eager to get back to might be the same reason you’re stuck in here. So, what is it?”

He groans. “Are you trying to get me to talk about the Bat?”

“No.” It’s not a full lie. You’re trying to get deeper into his motivation, into the way he thinks. What’s he in this all for? “But why don’t we talk about that?”

“Ah, Batsy, the Dork Knight, the savior, if you will. He’s crazy, you know.”

“Who? Batman?”

“No, Santa Claus.” He rolls his eyes. “Of course Batman! Interesting fella, he is. Thinks he’s all high and mighty for instilling order around here that he doesn’t even realize that he’s just as bad as the rest of them. He can keep trying but he’ll never amount to anything.”

You don’t disagree. It feels weird to agree with the Joker. But he makes good points. Who knew a villain would be so agreeable with? Batman did fail the city if he wanted to uphold the law, disappearing with a damn body count. If Joker only knew… “So, was your point to prove that you’re better than him?”

“Better? Oh no, doll. We’re the same. All I wanted to prove was that anyone can be broken. That all it takes is one little flick of the domino and the facade comes crumblin down!” He hollers and hoots as he scooches closer, the chair scraping across the floor until his chest is right up against the table. “We’re all messed up inside, doll, behind these masks we put up.”

All messed up. In a way, maybe. “So, all those stunts were to try and break him?”

“Those stunts were works of art,” he says, emphasizing the t. “Now, I do these things because, well, it’s funny. But it’s also about sending a message.”

“About chaos? Well, then there has to be some sort of thing that happened to you that started this obsession with chaos.”

As you begin to try and delve further into his past, you can see his barriers go up, his face more guarded. “Why don’t we just focus on the here and now, doll?” he hisses through gritted teeth. “My past is anything but a fun story. The fun part starts when the Batman and I finally start facing off.”

So he won’t let you know anything further past when he first came into Gotham’s limelight, got it. That’s fine. You need to work towards deeper topics with your other patients too. This is nothing new. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So, can we talk more about these illegal…stunts of yours?”

“Sure thing.”

“I told you before, Joker, that you’re a showman. I’d like to pull back the curtain, if you will. You caused quite a lot of damage before you were caught. Wanna tell me about that?”

He shrugs. “What’s there to tell? I assume you’ve been, ah, watchin’ the news? Did you see the hospital I blew up? I’ve shut down a few streets, scared off a few crooks.”

He has a talent for understatement. “You forced Gothamites into ships, criminals and regular civilians, and tried to get them to blow up one another,” you add, deadpanned.

At that, his excited demeanor drops a bit, and he bares his teeth like some wild animal. “Right.”

“Now, I’m no mastermind, but I know there’s a method to your madness. From what I’ve gathered, as much as you say this is all to humor you, you also get enjoyment over upturning social order and showing people what they truly are, which you believe is evil. And yet, neither boat chose to blow up the other. Why do you think that is?”

He sits there silently, but you can tell the gears in his mind are turning. He has a thinking face, subtle, but his brows furrow a bit and he presses his lips hard together. “I guess,” he finally says, after a beat, “not everyone was, ah, ready to have such a weight put on their shoulders.”

“That experience proved that people, no matter how messed up our world can be, people can be good, did it not?”

“Nah ah ah, doll. I think those people just think too fondly of themselves. It was never about not wanting to cause harm, it was about wanting to be able to sleep well at night, to be able to continue thinking of themselves as good people.” He breathes in deeply. “I know the true nature of society. I’ve seen how people will treat you when you’ve got nothing left to give them. People like to think they have morals, makes them feel secure. But those morals fly out the window one way or another. You’re just all so blind and forced into this little box that nobody wants to stand up and do somethin’!”

You sit there, trying to scribble everything down but slowly your pen just slows to a halt, as you take everything in. The worst part about his words is that he makes sense to you. Every single thing feels like the truth, and you don’t know if he’s just twisting his words to make you agree or if you really just believe it all. You’re not like him. He’s taking things to the extreme. “So that’s what you’re doing. Taking a stand against all this? That’s what the large spectacles are for?”

“Read it however you want, doll face. Just don’t think I’m in it for any gain.”

You blink. Joker’s chaos mainly stemmed from his code and amusement. But you had found it seriously hard to believe he wasn’t getting any gain out of it. It didn’t even have to be money, but was amusement and pushing a message really all there was to it? “That’s a first. Most of the other criminals are in it for money. Power. Notoriety.”

“I’m not like those fools.”

“Maybe not, but all these big, grand gestures? These stem from wanting something. And not just sending a message.”

“And what would that be?”

It’s hard, really, to comprehend how the Joker thinks because he’s truthful about the fact that he does things because he can. He is pure chaos, and as much as he plans his stunts, as much as he follows his belief strictly, he can also go completely against all this. There’s no rhyme or reason to him, so you’re grasping at straws to try and piece him together. But you think there’s more to it all, something he’s keeping locked up. “Do you think maybe you do all this because you just want to be seen? Want to be heard?” You tap your pen against your chin. “Are you lonely?”

As if it’s a fucking joke, Joker begins to snicker. He thinks everything I say is a joke. His body is almost thrashing violently, and god, he’s not settling down. “Oh, you are too funny! Lonely? Lonely? Doll. I chose this.”

Humans aren’t meant to be alone. “Your crazy antics, constantly trying to outdo yourself. This might just be a plea for something. Validation?” Love?

“Why would I keep people around when at any chance they’d get they’d just turn on me?” He smirks. “I don't have time for those shenanigans.”

The way he thinks, someone, multiple people, must have wronged him, and in your core you feel something like empathy. The world has kicked you down too. People have been cruel to you all your life. In a way, fuck it’s true, you and the Joker aren’t too different.

But that’s not something you’d like to dwell on.

“So, you don’t believe in loyalty?”

“Oh, I think people can be loyal. But you gotta buy that loyalty, loyalty never comes for free.”

You don’t agree, but that’s besides the point. “Maybe what you really need is company. A proper way to vent your feelings. By talking to someone. We’re not meant to be alone, Mr. J. Trust me, I’d know.”

He straightens a bit. “Oh, I see now, you’re a loner like me. See! Then you’d know how much people will take and take and take and then just discard you.” His voice drops to a whisper, a loud whisper. “And I have a feeling those bosses and guards out there would discard you the second they can.”

Again, you really hate how he seems to be right about everything. You wriggle in your seat a bit, shifting uncomfortably as he stares you dead on. Your coworkers don’t like you. Your landlord doesn’t like you. Your boss is already threatening to kick you to the curb if Joker doesn’t get better, and speaking of which, that helps kick your thoughts back into place. “It is kinda lonely out there, isn’t it?”

“You deserve a lot better than that, doll.”

You stop. Fuck him. He was just messing with you. He had to be messing with you. Joker didn’t feel bad for anyone. Didn’t care for anyone. The way he said those words though made it almost sound like he cared. And nobody had ever said something even close to that to you before so you soften. “Thanks,” you finally choke out. “But you don’t know me.”

“I already told you, doll, I’ll get to the bottom of you before you ever even get a glimpse into me.”

“For the last time, I’m not here to talk about myself.”

“And for the last time, I wanna know more about you,” he says, wetting his lips. “Hows about a deal? Everytime you tell me something personal about yourself, I’ll tell you something about me.”

A deal. No, this is the Joker, this is more like a game. A sick, twisted game. If it means answers, though, you’re willing to play. “Fine. What would you like to know about me?”

Joker shakes his head. “Ah ah ah, not like that, doll. We won’t be asking. Share something lighthearted about yourself, I’ll share something lighthearted about me. Share something a bit deeper?” He grins. “Then maybe I’ll be inclined to share something a bit more personal.” His eye twitches before his voice drops to a whisper. “And trust me, I’ll know if you lie to me.”

Ah, so he really wants to pick at your core. He’s baiting you, wanting to know your deepest darkest secrets because he’ll know you’ll do anything to get even just one small story out of him. He’s trying to break you. The game might be one sided, might be tipped in Joker’s favor, but it also might not be. He can lie. You can lie. Or maybe you can both tell the truth. The game is in both your hands. If Joker wants to play, you’ll play. “Fine. Deal.”

He brightens. “Ah, I knew I’d get ya!”

“In fact, why don’t we start off easy?” You think of a small detail about yourself, something that wouldn’t matter to anyone. “I’ve always been more of a cat person than a dog person.”

Joker smiles. “Mmm, seems we disagree on something.” He clucks his tongue. “Dogs have always been my favorite pet. Loyal creatures at a cost. But also deadly creatures.”

“Cats are so independent, like they don’t need anyone. But I like caring for them because of that. I like trying to help, no matter how much they hiss or push me away.”

“You’re, ah, a strange one, doll face.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” With that, you feel a weight come off your shoulders. You don’t feel quite as nervous as you did before. There’s a level of comfort now. You share something, he shares something back. And things won’t get deep unless you initiate it. You’ll have to figure out how to get there. It’s a good start. “You know, you could have a dog and a place of your own once you’re out of here.”

You expect him to groan or yell, but instead he just rests his cheek against his shoulder. “Guards say I’ll only get out if I’m a good boy. And, ah, maybe I will be good, just not in this piss pot.”

You put your pen down on the clip board and sigh. “Mr. J, I think we can really make progress with you, so long as we work on it together. You help me, and I’ll help you. And I really do wanna help.”

“Get me out of here.” There’s an edge of humor to his voice, but it doesn’t sound like a joke.

“Can’t.” Unless you can get better. Please, get better. Please. “Besides, I’ve never been very good at picking locks.”

Joker raises an eyebrow. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes. Well, and no. I really can’t pick locks.”

“I could teach ya. Maybe. I, uh, don’t really have my hands right now.”

You’re sure he can, and for a second you wonder what his hands might look like, beneath the gloves you’ve seen him wear on TV, but you quickly snap out of that. You clear your throat. “This has been a very heavy session. So why don’t we close off with something more lighthearted?” You lean in close, putting your chin on your first. “Since I’m no good at jokes, why don’t you tell me one?”

Joker perks up. “Oh! Oh! I’ve written a few jokes since getting locked up! Well, not writing them, they won’t even let me hold a crayon, but I’ve been thinking some up.”

“Alright, tell me?”

He nods his head eagerly, like a little kid agreeing to something. “Alright, uh, how about this, whaddya call a dog with no legs?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“Why’s it matter? He can’t come running to you anyways!” He can hardly even make it through the punchline before he bursts into manic laughter, his shoulders shaking. It takes a minute for the joke to settle in before you gasp and then, despite yourself, you laugh. At your laughter, Joker perks up even more. “Was that a laugh, doll face? Didn’t think ya had it in ya. Specially not for one of my jokes.”

Quickly, you regain your composure, biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from smiling. It’s not because you think he’s funny. It’s not. It’s just stupid. “You have a very dark sense of humor.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like it.”

Maybe you did. It was a little frightening. You weren’t used to having a conversation with someone that made you feel sort of… happy. Especially not with a patient. It felt wrong. It felt right. You were a little confused. “You’re horrible,” you laugh.

“Clearly, you’re just as horrible.” You watch as he runs his tongue over his lips and your stomach starts doing flips. It’s because he’s intimidating, that’s probably why. “I like it.”

You shake your head as if you can ignore him, even though you can’t. “I think it’s about time I get going.”

“Doll, won’t you come back tomorrow? I, ah, really do enjoy our chats.”

“Joker, this is only our second talk.”

“Oh, I know, I know, but I just get so lonely. Besides, I’m sure seeing me more often would, ah, really help my mental state.”

At first, you open your mouth to protest, but quickly clamp it shut. More sessions with the Joker didn’t sound… too bad. In fact, they would be good. The more sessions you got in, the more progress could be made with Joker. Then, you’d have that raise in no time. Yes, extra sessions would be good. Great, even. And it certainly wasn’t because for once you actually might be enjoying talking to someone. “Okay, I’ll see if I can adjust some meetings I have for tomorrow and try and get you in.”

“I’ll be waiting eagerly, doll face.” He smiles at you, and this time it’s not one of those scary, wolf-like smiles with bared teeth, not a sinister grin, but something… warm? Warm seems the wrong way to put it, nothing is warm about the Joker. But whatever this is, it’s close enough, and you feel heat pooling in your stomach. It’s strange. You don’t understand it. “Don’t forget about me.”

You take the remote from your bag and push on the green button, smiling back at him. “I could never.”

————————-

When you finally manage to go to the shared staff space, Mr. Dale is there eagerly waiting for you, alongside his business partner Henry Walsh. He’s a taller, thin man with curly black hair and a thin mustache. Dale waves you over, and you head over, offering a polite wave despite how he treated you earlier. “Hello again, Mr. Dale.”

“Hello, Doctor l/n,” he responds. “Tell me, how did things go with the Joker this time?”

You don’t really know how to put it all into words. “Well, I’ve only just started working on him. It’s going to take him a bit of time to open up. But I think we did well today. I’m trying to get to the root of his thinking. If I can see why he thinks the way he thinks, I can try and see what we can do to get him to push this more violent way of thinking towards something… well, less violent.” You cross your arms. “Speaking of which, I want him out of that straitjacket.”

Beside Mr. Dale, Walsh scoffs. “That psycho could lunge at anyone anytime he wants if we got him out of that thing.”

“If you want him to get better, you have to show a level of trust towards him too. You trust him, he’ll trust you.” He won’t trust them, not even at all, but you really think getting him out of that straitjacket will be good. “Please. I promise this will help.”

Walsh’s scowl would make the other psychiatrists crumble, and maybe you too, but after a session with the Joker, you, if only for a moment, feel like you can handle anything. When you don’t waver, he groans. “Fine. However he will be handcuffed. You hear me? Legs and wrists bound.” He tugs at the tie around his neck. “You’re crazy to even want this, Miss l/n.”

“Maybe you should lock me up in here too, huh?” When nobody laughs, you stiffen. “Sorry, joking. I really do believe this well help. Shove someone in a straitjacket and of course they’re going to go a little off the rocker. Treat someone like a human, they'll act like a human, no?”

The two men blink, because what do they know about treating people like humans? You’re one of the only people in this god forsaken facility who actually takes the patients seriously. You’ve got a good record of getting people out of there, and still, the two men before you see you as crazy because where they see lunatics you see people. “I’m no doctor, so I trust you,” Mr. Dale says with a small shrug. He looks over at Mr. Walsh and the two begin to laugh and gossip as if you’re not even standing there. “Crazy girl,” you hear one of them whisper, and you turn away from them, stalking out of the room.

You’re not crazy. You’re not.

———————————

Joker sighs wistfully as you walk off.

He fucking hates Arkham asylum. He spends every day locked up in a small cell, his arms restrained beneath the straitjacket, with guards constantly coming in to yell at him, or doctors trying to force pills in his mouth to fix him right up. He doesn’t remember what the sun feels like, or even how the moonlight would bathe his purple suit in a silver glow. All he knows now is flickering, ugly yellow fluorescent lights. The smell of urine and metal. The screams and cries of crazies in their cells.

It should be hilarious, really, but it just pisses him off.

But not you. He didn’t expect you. The first psychiatrists were all boring, rigid bums who were spooked off after only a few minutes of speaking to him. But not you. You stayed. You were different. You were just as miserable as the Joker, just as alone. Yet, your mind isn’t as strong as you think it is. You want something more than your dull life has in store, Joker sees this clearly.

What fun you two will have together.

——————————-

As you walk home, you think of the Joker.

You can’t help it, especially since the very apartment you’re heading to hinges on this stupid raise. Not just your apartment, but your livelihood. You stuff your hands in your pockets, and think about all the stuff he said, about how people were all messed up inside. You’d like to think he’s wrong but while trying to help Joker you can’t help but feel this pull towards him. You know that’s the whole point, he’s trying to get all buddy buddy, disarm you so you’ll forget what you’re in there for. But there’s this other pull towards him, one outside of your want (and need) to help him. Oh well, so long as you make progress with him, you can quickly forget any of it ever happened, and it makes you feel kind of selfish. For a moment, you wonder if he’d sympathize with you, but instead you know he’d laugh in your face. He’d be actively making sure he wouldn’t get better so you could learn your lesson.

That damn clown.

—————-

Edit: I’m gonna make a tag list for this so if anyone would like to be on it, lmk!!

#dark knight #dark knight joker x reader #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #dark knight joker #L!Joker x reader #dark knight fanfic #dc joker

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