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zorosangell · 1 month ago

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⛥ﾟ・。 oiran

synopsis: while luffy and the others are off saving sanji, zoro is assigned the role of a ronin, and told to keep a low profile as he roams the land of wano... but he risks revealing himself and the entire crew when he discovers you're a nearby oiran, and in need of his rescue.

cw: lots and lots of fluff, comfort, zoro is down bad for reader, reader is super pretty, zoro does NOT play about you, took me hella long for some reason.

a/n: i took the song hell n back by summer walker as inspo for this

"Thanks," Zoro nodded with a smile, giving the boat owner a thankful nod as he took a box of sushi from him, quickly setting it down in his lap and cracking it open.

Though he had failed to notice the word WASABI written in bold on the side of the tray.

In his travels throughout the Flower Capital, Zoro had landed himself in a little bit of trouble, having been arrested for the crimes of a serial killer, and convicted as a murderer when he cut down a very important magistrate—who was the real culprit—at his own execution.

Luckily, after defeating the magistrate's followers and walking out the execution yard, he had managed to stumble across a literal sushi boat leaving one of the docks, which gave him the perfect means to escape.

While also offering the perfect opportunity for him to stuff his face.

Eager to eat, he picked up the first piece, which was topped with fresh salmon nigiri and salmon roe, the rice a little more green than the swordsman expected.

But he was too hungry to care, not giving it a second thought as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

An act he was quick to regret.

Cheeks puffed and nose scrunched, a bead of sweat trailed down his temple as his face contorted into an expression of discomfort.

'It burns!'

Frantic for something to cool his tongue, he snapped his head around, letting out small hums of muffled agony as he searched for his sake gourd.

Though the spiciness made him feel like his mouth was being seared by flames, most of the heat was moving upward toward the back of his nose, hitting his sinuses just enough to make his eyes water.

Typically, he enjoyed things that sat more on the bitter side, but he'd never imagined food could get this spicy.

Quickly grabbing his sake, he guzzled well over half of it, ignoring the two large streams running down the sides of his mouth as that was what finally stopped the burning.

But as he began to regain feeling in his mouth, he realized that the sushi piece itself actually tasted delicious, slightly smiling at the flavor.

'Looks like I'll just need a sake chaser.'

"My, my! Look at this!" the older man next to him gasped, marveling at a mysterious flyer in his hands. "To think that such a breath-taking beauty actually exists! It's unbelievable!"

Completely unbothered, Zoro went back to stuffing his face, following each bite with a huge gulp of sake.

Though his curiosity began to pique when the man continued to stare at the paper, almost as if he was hypnotized.

"What's unbelievable?" Zoro asked, muffled, as he gulped down another piece. "Hot!"

"An oiran nearby by the name of (f/n)! She's said to be one of the most beautiful women in the country!" the man answered, holding up the paper for the swordsman to see. "It's rumored that her beauty would give oiran Komurasaki a run for her money."

Zoro took another lazy swig of his gourd, brow raised as he flippantly glanced at the flyer, only for his eye to blow wide at the sight.

It was you, your features gracefully laid out and unmistakable in the detailed ink painting.

Surprised, Zoro spit out his mouthful of sake, shooting it directly into the face of a nearby patron.

"Hey! If you don't like wasabi, don't eat it! But I won't tolerate you spitting on other customers!" the owner of the boat shouted, brows furrowed as he glared at the swordsman. "Hold on! Have you even paid?!"

"Lemme see that!" Zoro growled, completely ignoring the owner as he snatched the flyer out of the old man's hands, looking at it closer.

It was indeed you, as radiant and stunning as he'd last seen, which was well over a month ago.

He wasn't told what identity you were assigned or where you were stationed—a precaution taken by Kin'emon as he'd seen throughout his travels how hell-bent the swordsman was on protecting you, and couldn't trust the man not to seek you out if he knew.

And, of course, his intuition would be right, as the paper suddenly began to crumple in Zoro's hand, his expression dropping into a deep scowl.

Zoro was dim, but he wasn't stupid.

During his time in the capital, he had managed to piece together what the whole oiran business was about.

He'd overheard the stories.

He'd seen the men.

It was nothing but an excuse for stuffy rich guys to gawk and leer at women, treating them like objects and products to be bought rather than actual people.

His fist clenched even tighter, veins bulging in his hand as it practically shook, nearly destroying the paper.

While eating out somewhere nice, he'd eavesdrop on some of the stories the men of higher status would tell, and to call their actions harassment would be a grave understatement.

He grit his teeth, attempting to fight off the swell of anger threatening to burst from his chest.

Just the thought of any man doing those things to you made his blood boil, and his hands itch for his swords.

Plan be damned, he wasn't gonna let anything happen to you on his watch.

Abruptly turning around, he yolked up the boat owner by the front of his yukata, the man letting out a fearful yelp as Zoro pulled him closer with a deadly glare.

He held out the crumpled flyer for the man to see, tone deadly serious and leaving no room for argument.

"Tell me where I can find her..."

"Care for some sake, sir?" a blonde-haired geisha asked, a slight flush on her cheeks as she approached Zoro, who was sitting rigidly on his tatami mat.

The man was certainly a sight, and every other girl in the room was having a hard time focusing on their clients with him sitting so close.

He was significantly more handsome than their typical patrons.

Pronounced jawline.

Clearly muscular physique.

Dark, bedroom eyes.

A dream come true for a woman in this profession.

"No, thank you," he curtly denied, not even bothering to look the girl in the eye.

But he had turned down every one of their advancements.

Yet, in all actuality, he wasn't even supposed to be there.

Once the boat owner told him where to find you, he immediately jumped ship, leaving behind some money to pay for his meal before landing on the riverbank.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him with nightfall drawing ever closer, as he knew that was when red-light districts were at their most busy.

And only after mugging a few rich guys—using their money to pay the exorbitant entrance fee—did he finally gain access to your room, entering himself under the guise of a wealthy samurai.

Then, he laid in wait, watching with a certain disdain as the other men practically jumped the other girls, getting particularly handsy particularly quick.

But he did his best to ignore it, instead focusing on the fact that you had yet to arrive, worry beginning to spike in his veins as he had been sitting there for thirty minutes, with little to no sign of you at all.

"Hey," he called, snappily, snatching the girl out of her lovesick stupor. "When the hell is the oiran comin' out?"

Visibly, her shoulders dropped, a pout settling on her painted lips as she finally caught the message, now understanding why he was so cold toward everyone else.

He was waiting for her.

'Much like the rest of the men that pass through nowadays...'

Sucking up her slight annoyance, she faced the man with a polite smile, fixing her grip on the tray of liquor.

"Oiran (f/n) will be—"

"Lords! And esteemed samurai of Wano!" an older woman suddenly exclaimed, seeming to appear out of nowhere, utterly elated.

Zoro snapped his attention away from the girl, eye zeroing in on the door the madam was standing in front of.

He could sense you standing just behind it, and was fighting off the all-encompassing urge to bust it down and drag you away from the place.

"It is with great honor that the Ogimoto House presents to you our very own shining star... oiran (f/n)!"

As the door slammed open, a woman in the corner suddenly began to play the shamisen, the other girls joining together to gracefully dance as you made your entrance, carefully stepping into the light.

And once Zoro caught sight of you, nearly all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

You were a vision.

Your hair was tied in a both simple yet elaborate updo, adorned with several golden, gem-encrusted hairpins, two small strands of hair falling before your ears.

Your kimono was heavily layered, but richly decorated with bold greens and intricate embroidery that accented the fabric's dragon design—the most prominent one, ironically, missing its left eye, much like your swordsman.

Your makeup was surprisingly simple for an oiran, more focused on accentuating your natural features, while offering small pops of color to your cheeks.

Zoro's heart added another beat to its pattern, feeling as if the skin on his chest was tightening over itself, rendering him unable to breath.

Just being able to look at you brought him an embarrassing amount of happiness.

Lowering your fan, you flashed the men a coy smile, their eyes quite literally turning into hearts at the sight.

"Sorry for the delay," you simpered, gracefully walking into the room.

Because of traditional oiran etiquette, it was impossible for you to move faster than a mile an hour, but that only added to the appeal as that made it seem as if you were floating through the air.

Calculated, your eyes scanned over the crowd, analyzing each face within the room.

You'd recognized a few of the usual suspects—rich, thirsty men who would fall over themselves trying to catch your attention—and noticed a few new faces—skeptical types who wanted to see if the rumors of your looks were true.

But one man among them all stuck out to you.

You'd recognize that head of hair anywhere...

Internally, you let out a sigh, fighting off the wide smile threatening to break out on your face.

'He just can't follow directions, can he?'

Your swordsman.

Though you two had only been apart for about a month, give or take, you couldn't help but allow your heart to swell with joy at seeing him again.

Countless nights you'd found yourself pining over the man, missing his presence by your side.

His genuine, obnoxious laugh.

His funny, snarky remarks.

His drunken, horrible flirting.

His bad habit of resting his hand on your hip, keeping you tethered to his side.

All that was why you found your feet carrying you over to his mat, entire body burning at the intensity of his stare and the cockiness of his smirk.

"May I join you, sir?" you asked, slyly, biting back the grin threatening to crack on your lips. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

He let out a quiet chuckle, perfectly fine with playing along, so long as he was your only customer.

"Be my guest," he greeted, his hand instinctively coming up to pat his thigh.

You typically sat in his lap when you two were alone, but he was so excited to see you, he didn't really care.

Though, when your eyes flashed him a scolding look, his hand halted in mid-air, brow raising in confusion.

You glanced toward the other patrons discreetly, taking notice that they all were still watching intently, before turning your attention back to your swordsman.

'We can't do that here, dumbass,' your expression said. 'You're gonna blow my cover.'

It finally hit him, and he nodded with an adorably vacant look.

'My bad,' he backed off.

"Oiran (f/n)!" a man suddenly shouted from across the room, grabbing everyone's attention as he bustled to his feet and scrambled toward you. "Oiran (f/n)!"

Despite your confusion, you turned to him with a warm look, masking your apprehension.

"Yes, Sir Kyoguro?" you asked.

You'd recognized the man from a few of his previous visits, and you made a point to remember every name you met, in case they could be of use to you later.

"I must say, I am bewitched by your beauty, absolutely enthralled by your grace, and in awe of your poise!"

You pretended to be abashed by the comments, slightly hiding yourself behind your fan.

"Sir Kyoguro, you flatter me."

Zoro nearly gagged, rolling his eyes at the sight.

He knew you were faking it, seeing as you'd just given him a real reaction only moments ago, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"(f/n)!" the man eagerly lurched forward, taking your hand in his. "I am utterly taken with you. I see no other woman that can take your place in my heart!"

You fought off a grimace, smiling down uneasily at the stranger, who seemed to have found it in his right to touch you without your permission.

Zoro, on the other hand, was less than pleased.

Arms tightly crossed over his chest, his gripped his yukata, occupying his hands to prevent himself from shooting up and severely hurting the man.

It was painfully obvious that you were uncomfortable, yet you seemed to be taking it in stride.

How many other interactions had you had like this one?

How many men have touched you without your say so?

How many times have you had to hide your distress behind a kind smile?

'Bastard...'

He grit his teeth, fingers tightening painfully into a fist.

"This is why... I want you to marry me!"

Your entire world scratched to halt, Zoro's eye widening at the words.

"I-I beg your pardon?" you weakly stuttered, utterly shocked, praying you heard him wrong.

"I've already paid off your contract and then some. So tonight we leave for the Flower Capital! There we will be wed! And we'll finally be able to start our lives together!"

Your heart practically sank to your feet, the very thought making you shiver under your skin.

It was unheard of for an oiran to get a marriage proposal just within a month of working, much less one where the client pays well over the asking price.

Kin'emon telling you that fact was the only thing reassuring you throughout this whole endeavor.

As cheesy as it was, you had no intention of marrying anyone else in this world other than Zoro, whether the wedding was real or not.

But it wasn't like you could outright say no, or simply run away.

You'd blow your cover that way, and the others needed you to find out everything you could from the nobles of Wano.

'Of all people, why did this have to happen to me?'

It was safe to say... you were shitting your pants.

In a desperate attempt to debunk this, you turned to the madam, but she gave you a proud thumbs up, nodding in concurrence.

'Fuck!'

"And while we're on the topic... please forgive me if this comes off too vulgar for your delicate ears," the man leaned in closer, whispering so only you could catch it.

You shivered, terrified of what nonsense he might say.

"Once we reach the Flower Capital, I must insist that we start the process of producing an heir at once. My family is in great need of one, you see? And we need to start his upbringing right away."

You nearly laughed at the statement, eyes wide, nearly disbelieving of the words that just left his mouth.

There's no way he just said that...

But he did.

And Zoro heard him loud and clear.

And right then and there was when the swordsman decided the time for sitting idly by was over, plan be damned—Traffy could make another one.

It'd be a cold day in hell before he ever let you get married to some pervert for some mission, much less have a kid with him.

Silently, Zoro stood up from his mat, rising to his full height ominously quiet.

The entire room suddenly turned their attention to him, you included, your lips letting out a faint gasp as you caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were darkened with malice.

You recognized the look instantly... and you knew it spelled trouble.

'Oh, no...'

Your swordsman clenched his fist, grabbing the air as if it were one of his swords, before winding up his arm for a swing.

"Zoro, please... he didn't mean anything by it... we'll figure something out, alright?" you tried to calm him down, completely ignoring the fact that you used his real name, and the fact that it was completely inappropriate to talk to a customer that way.

You were more preoccupied with making sure he didn't kill anybody.

But his mind was already made up.

Suddenly, a dark, shiny substance coated his arm from his fingertips to his elbow, emanating a menacing, purple glow.

'HA!'

If he was using his haki, there was no point in talking anymore.

You sighed, exasperatingly rolling your eyes, giving up on any hopes of calming him down and simply waiting for the inevitable.

"No Sword Style... Tatsumaki!"

Faster than everyone else could see, he swung his arm through the air, creating a giant, aggressive air funnel that knocked the sniveling man before you out cold—the winds so harsh that it blew the hairpins right out your hair and tore through the roof of the house, letting in the torrential downpour from outside.

While everyone was distracted, Zoro scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, your yelp of surprise snatching back their attention.

"Hey!" the madam shouted, furious. "You put her down this instant!"

"I'm stealing the woman!" Zoro announced, running right past her and out the exit, snatching up the large sack of money the man left. "And the cash!"

"Don't tell them that!" you lightly smacked him in the chest, laughing, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the pelting rain forcing your loose hair to stick to your face.

Breaking down the door to the exit, your swordsman sprinted out toward the dirt road, the owner of the house along with your other loyal followers chasing you both outside.

"Get back here!"

"Where are you going with the oiran?!"

"You can't take her!"

"Someone stop him!"

"Oiran (f/n)! We'll save you!"

As if you needed saving...

"Y'know, most guys say hi, how are ya before kidnapping a girl from her house," you teased, turning to your swordsman.

"Most girls typically say thank you after being saved from an arranged marriage," he countered, his trademark cocky grin plastered on his face.

"What other girls are you saving?" you playfully huffed, brows furrowing as you tugged at his cheek.

Amused, Zoro let out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes.

He'd missed you... desperately.

Looking over your shoulder, you checked to see if the men were still chasing you, happy to see that they had given up, all of them stopping and turning back toward the house.

'So much for loyal...'

Pushing the thought to the side, you suddenly cupped your swordsman's face in your hands, thumb softly gliding over his cheekbone.

"I missed you," you smiled up at him, sincerely, taking a moment to re-familiarize yourself with his face.

You'd missed him... desperately.

And the man seemed even handsomer than you remembered.

Finally a decent distance away from the house, Zoro stopped in his tracks, pulling over right in the middle of the road.

"Stand on my feet," he stated, shifting his grip to put you down.

You were only wearing tabi socks, and he didn't want you to get muddy feet.

Following his instructions, you stepped carefully onto the tops of his feet, his hands sliding down to your hips to balance you.

Though, once he was sure you were steady, he didn't hesitate in pulling you flush against him and smashing his lips against yours.

Your eyes widened, slightly surprised by the sudden movement, before you instantly melted into his embrace, relishing the way his strong arms felt wrapped around you.

He kissed you like he was famished, like you were water in his desert, his blunt fingertips having a near bruising grip on your hips.

Moments like these made him wonder what life would be like if the two of you didn't have to split up every two fucking seconds.

Pulling you even closer, he only deepened the kiss, his eagerness electrifying you right down to your core.

Emotional displays of this magnitude... coming from him?

In public?

You never thought you'd see the day.

Pulling back with a soft pop, you took a moment to catch your breath, unable to fight off the stupid smile settling on your lips.

"I should get married off more often," you chuckled, breathlessly, resting your hands on his chest for purchase.

He scoffed, scooping you up again before going back to running, hoping to find somewhere to shelter you both from the rain.

Glancing down at your smug grin, he smirked, rolling his eyes before placing a quick peck on your forehead.

"Don't push it."

#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #zorosangell #op

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teaboot · 4 months ago

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How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican

In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.

For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely

Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.

also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out

And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.

Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted

To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments

But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar

And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries

But I'm rambling.

We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.

And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)

There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool

And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.

And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been

My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.

If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here

But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can

So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:

"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."

#Canadian history #Canadian education #Medical tw #Medical malpractice #Human rights #Genocide tw #Residential school tw #Child abuse tw #Slavery tw #Current events #Canadian Education #Aboriginal history

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anitalenia · 7 months ago

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. 𝐎𝐇, 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋, 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝓘𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 . ♡ 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝘩𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑢𝑒. 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕. 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝓼𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 ♡ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ dark knight!joker x fem!reader ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ suggestive content, mature content, reader is spoiled but not a brat, reader isn’t necessarily a good person, joker is lowkey your sugar daddy, inner turmoil and lowkey delusions, joker being manipulative ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ slight dark content, a lot of emotional turmoil with reader, lowkey brainwashed reader ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ this is actually like my fav. Joker, I miss him 😞 hope you enjoy ♡ also, this isn’t my best merged gif but I haven’t done one since my wattpad days 😫 2017 era 🕺🏻 Sorry this has no smut in it, but this is my first joker fic so I wanted to do something tame. I’m not sure how I would approach writing smut for him 😭 he cray cray. I do like this idea though so I’ll probably expand on it somewhere down the line. ♡

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ♡ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍. This was a fact constantly paraded around your face everywhere you went in Gotham City. It was in the front pages of newspapers most often, written in big, black, bold letters that the bad man had struck again. Murder, ruination, destruction, robbery, devil — all synonymous with his name, all written in big, black, bold letters.

It would be written in the same newspapers, more often than not, that were shoved into dingy trash cans and sold at corner stores. A big gray photo of his mugshot plastered right onto the front page of the neatly rolled up papers thrown onto your porch every morning. His face was easily distinguishable and it always made you shiver when you saw it; soulless black eyes topped with a frazzled hair of green.

It was televised in the local breaking news segments almost every day on the hour, when you’d be sitting at your glass table drinking your morning coffee, wearing that grand red robe that was much more expensive than necessary. It was always the same story; the bad man has stolen millions from another major bank and has somehow gotten away with it, whatever will Gordon do?

The joker. His face, those beaming crimson lips, they were plastered on the tabloids and the front pages of magazines and painted across the wanted posters that hung on every light pole installed on every block in the grandest city of grime.

He was everywhere you seemed to be, watching, smiling, plotting. His scarred face a shadow in the back of your mind and his maniacal laugh an echo that lingered behind your every thought.

He was in every reflection and sprinkled around every corner; the yellow tape wrapped around the ruins of a building, the joker playing cards mockingly laid out in the street brushing past you in the soft breeze, the eery quiet after nightfall and the laugh dancing in the empty streets everyone pretends to not notice.

He was like a ghost, your own personal demon you couldn’t just brush to the side and ignore. His presence was constant and persistent even when he wasn’t there, gnawing at your sanity like a feral dog thin and hungry, the memory of his smile found in the cold corners of your house and his sourly sweet musk soaked into every pore of your polished home. His very existence haunted you, as you were sure he intended.

No matter the source the message was always profoundly clear to you; you could never escape him.

You belonged to him in his own possessively twisted way you could never rationalize with a sound mind. You were his and he loved to entertain that notion in front of you as often as he could. He had spared your life that night in a carefully orchestrated plot to ensnare you, wrap you in his shadow and keep you tucked away in the dark.

You were his.

Yes, That was a fact that blared in your mind as loud and as simple as big, black, bold letters.

You were his.

Today was a dreaded day for you for one fatal reason and one reason alone. Today was the first of November, a very dreaded day you had found yourself dreading to face during the whole length of October.

With every beginning of a new month he would take it upon himself to visit you, invite himself into your life once more and disrupt any kind of routine uniformity you had developed. He’d come just to remind you of who exactly you belonged to, of who exactly gave you this life to begin with.

Of course, you would see him sparingly throughout the month when he’d come check up on you unannounced — it was really just a ploy to make sure you were sat put and not planning anything devious behind his back. Those moments were short and brief, sporadic and sometimes only ever occurring thrice within a thirty day period. Those moments were manageable.

He was a busy man he’d always say, too busy to attend to you and your whims.

But now it was the first of the month, the beginning of the month. He reserved those days especially for you, to give you his undivided attention and to ensure you’re properly reminded of your place. Today, Joker was going to come to your door once more with the expectation of you catering to his delusion, with the intention of being with you in every sense of the word.

You had found yourself lingering in bed later than usual, being sure to keep the television off to avoid yet another news story on the man you were going to see later on in the evening anyway.

You had avoided going outside, avoided any newspapers or magazines, completely disrupting your normal ritual in order to remain sane at the expectation of what was to occur later on. You didn’t want to see his face, it only served as a heinous reminder of what your life had become; long fragmented strings orchestrated under his wicked, purple gloved fingers.

You had just sat in your living room for the majority of the afternoon in a sweet green dress with a glass of white wine, reading a thick, verbose book you had no real interest in finishing. It might’ve been a dictionary, but you couldn’t focus on the words anyway to know, your eyes just blindly running over blurs of black ink and dwindling for several long minutes on the same page.

Your fingers trembled and you couldn’t help but gnaw on your bottom lip until it was sore, your wine glass constantly refilled and your throat consistently dry.

A part of you hoped that if you drank enough wine you’d be too tipsy to properly remember your night with him; your efforts were pointless and had been for quite some time. Sadly, your tolerance had heightened many moons ago when you found yourself starting to drink more to abide the anxious time you sat waiting, waiting for him.

These were the tell tale signs of your foreboding nervousness, all attempts of futile idle work to distract yourself from looking at the clock overhead your television.

It was a big flat screen, your fancy television was, with the best surround sound and 4K picture any tv on the market could offer. It was unnecessary and cruelly gratuitous — another flashy thing thrown your away to appease you when all it did was take up space. But, you supposed, it’d be selfish to complain.

As with the tv almost everything in your household had been given to you unmerited by the Joker himself; the diamonds, the fancy silver, the lavish fabrics and the fine jewelry. It was all luxuries you used to admire, now they were nothing but blood money to you. They were all one in the same, all tainted with some sort of sin or another he had committed to get them for you in the first place. You really couldn’t stand to be surrounded by them, to be surrounded by the filth.

But, you supposed once more, it wasn’t necessarily unmerited.

If you were really being honest with yourself he had spoiled you, or better put, he had fooled you. He had dangled all the riches and glamour you could’ve ever wanted over your starved, gaping mouth like a chunk of red meat.

You had been skin and bones before him, suffering, discarded to the side of the road like a diseased dog nobody wanted and he had used that to his full advantage, dangling that chunk of meat in front of your face as a faulty promise to ensnare you in his steel trap.

In your old life — that’s what you liked to call it anyway — before him, you were never able to dwell on superficial things like beauty or fashion. They had no place with you then, no substance, as your life was nothing but a dirty stain smeared in the smallest corner of Gotham that would easily tarnish such superficial things. It was a disastrous life held together by the withered scraps of a run down waitressing job.

You had been poor, incredibly so, hungry for the comfort and wealth you’d only ever see dripping off the fancy ladies you’d serve gin and tonics to in their lavish fur coats and shoes.

You were envious of them, angry, easily able to be coerced into any solution that could fix those feelings.

He had viewed your vulnerability as an opportunity, a moment he couldn’t let pass. He had manipulated you with the hollow promises of a magical land full of diamonds and rubies, one in which you’d never be hurt or forgotten about, one in which you’d get everything you ever desired and all your worries would bleed away, one in which you’d look even better than the ladies you’d serve gin and tonics to with their lavish fur coats and shoes.

You had salivated at the thought.

He knew you had been deprived for so long, deprived of love and care, of the warmth and intimacy only a real home could provide. You had missed that sense of belonging, of purpose, and he knew that in the way he selflessly fed to your greedy jaws of want — you wanted it all. He had shown up like a savior adorned in a purple cloak and green hair, coming to your aid. And despite the terrible rumors you had heard about him, the abominable things you’d seen, you had truly thought he was so for a while.

He had saw your famine, your insatiable appetite, and had raised you prosperity, an abundance of all the food, the money, you could ever want. If only you had seen that his promises were just carefully coated secrets to disguise his true intent, a bountiful paradise concealing the sinister hellscape underneath it.

It all seemed like a dream come true at the time. You had ate the scraps of luxury right out of his purple clothed palm and it wasn’t long before you had realized that you’d ate too much; you’d been spoiled by him, fooled by him, so familiar in the unconventional relationship you had found within him now to ever regret doing so.

You could never go back to your old life now and you knew it, he knew it. You could never go back to the dark, to the sick, to the cruelty of the real world outside of your selfishly curated paradise abundant with food, with money, more than you’d ever had in the accumulation of your whole existence. He had trained you well, fed you so much your teeth were rotten and your belly was full.

If only you had known that there was a price, a trick, before you ever agreed to his terms. If only you had read the fine print in the contract, for there was always a price to pay, a trick up their sleeve, when it came to the matters of a clown.

Yes, you were to be given everything you ever wanted, all the money, the clothes, the makeup, the jewelry, everything, but only in exchange for just one little thing.

Your devotion.

Your devotion to him and to him alone and to only ever him.

It seems meager of course, insignificant and small compared to what you were getting in return.

But no, no you see, because there was so much more to it as there always was to a slippery, two-sided promise. He wanted everything in return for giving you everything in the first place. He wanted your loyalty, your trust, your morals, your essence and your very soul. You were rich in the material sense while he was wealthy in a morbidly different fashion entirely.

He had saved you from the street, gave you food, gave you comfort, gave you a home, and just like a dog you had been blinded by his compassion, too blinded by the glitz and the glamour of his castle to notice the cracks in it’s foundation.

He had saved you, fed you, comforted you, clothed you, his loyal pet, bound to his side forever now with a diamond studded collar, your leash tied to the sinister intricacies of his pale hands.

Now, now you were his in all of your totality, a helplessly devoted, hypocritical bitch dressed up in blood-stained diamonds.

There was no saving you now. You were too far gone, too spoiled by him to ever give up your riches for sanity’s sake. He had filled you with that sense of belonging you desperately craved, your existence catered to him and his needs in exchange for a modicum of companionship.

As time went on you had come to loath your two story home and its white walls, its glass tables and expensive vases, its flower ridden garden and its white oak gazebo. It was too extravagant now, each shiny object digging a hole further in the hollow of your chest where your morals were supposed to be. Now it was all material, all superficial, all things given to appease you yet they only took up space.

But, you supposed for a third time, you could never give it up and go back to the way things were. Yes, you hated this house and its white washed walls that seemed to expand and swallow you whole, digesting your cowardice and greed, but you loved that it was all yours and no one else’s, you loved that he spoiled you and only you and you alone, that in a weird, twisted way you had his devotion just as he had yours.

You hated him and all his complexities yet you needed his company and praise. You were a poor, desolate creature lapping up any semblance of gold and care he spared you. Sometimes you’d wonder if there was better for you outside of your white-walled prison, but then he’d stroke your hair and call you a good girl and you’d wag your tail like it was all forgiven, like you were foolish for even thinking such a thought in the first place.

Yes, you were just as you said, a helplessly devoted, hypocritical, bitch.

You filled your wine glass up once more once the sky had settled into a sheer blue hue, the yellow tainted liquid filled to the edge of the glass as you looked at the clock pasted on the white wall over your fancy television with the fancy surround sound and the fancy 4K picture.

You took a heavy sip of dreaded excitement as the clock struck seven.

He’d be here any minute now.

“So, how ya been, honey? After all it’s been a month since the last time I saw you. I was starting to miss you, ya know. Miss ya real bad. Miss that pretty little smile on that pretty little face…” He drawled out slowly in that scratchy tone of his, his voice gritty and raw, fragmented.

You swallowed nervously as his fingers delicately traced over the skin of your cheek from where he stood in front of you, his black painted eyes looking up at you from the bridge of his nose.

He was hunched over in front of you in the stillness of your living room, amidst the white, both of you stood by the red couch yet he was taller than you as always, clad in his signature purple suit and gloves to match — they were soft on your cheek in the fleeting touch he spared them.

You looked back at him with a measly gaze, breath trembled with the subconscious fear you got whenever he was too close to you. His aura was palpable and dark, and with his irritable tendency to step into your personal space it seemed to swallow you whole and make you uncomfortable (not that he really cared). But you also guessed that if you belonged to him trivial things such as boundaries didn’t really apply.

On the other hand, you couldn’t deny that your body wantonly sought out his whenever it sensed him near — the flutter in your tummy, the tightness in your legs and the excited buzzing in your hands. It was an irritating betrayal to your logical mind, who knew wanting him was wrong yet was left wanting anyway.

You had been steadily convincing yourself it was just the symptoms of Stockholm syndrome, but you were not kidnapped and he was no captor… well, in the literal sense of the word. But, maybe that’s exactly what this was; you doubted he’d ever let you leave him anyway. Unfortunately, you knew your affections weren’t as simple as black and white. Really, your feelings for him were a puzzling paradox locked in a spinning box better left unopened, lost somewhere in the dark abysses of your mind better left unexplored.

You inhaled a soft breath, blinking up at him as time, in your altered perception, seemed to stretch and bend into a warped mirage of endless minutes and infinite seconds as you found yourself lost in your own thoughts, the smell of him tickling your nose pleasantly.

He smelt of smoke and something sickly sweet, scents that reminded you of cane sugar and the residue of a house fire. His hair was stringy and green, slicked back away from his messily painted white face that seemed to bore into yours.

Your body was tense, back straight and chin up, your arms sternly at your sides as you were too perturbed to know what to do with them. You were awkward, more than usual, having not seem him in an uncharacteristically long time. You had forgotten what pleasantries you used to rely on when he was around, any automated responses you were comfortable with using lost in the fluffiness of the clouds where you’d never find them again.

You were clueless as to what to say, not wanting to give in to this odd domesticity he was portraying and actually be nice to him, but you also didn’t want to risk it and be rude either. He was an unpredictable creature at nature, confounding and bipolar so it took very little for his switch to flip completely. You’ve witnessed that first hand and it made you incredibly wary.

Joker hummed at you then, blank eyes staring at you expectantly when a few moments of silence passed following his question — you hadn’t really paid attention, his touch leaving you stunned and his fragrance leaving you questioning. He rolled his eyes at you, big hand curling into a fist and playfully knocking at your forehead.

You grimaced at the feeling, body jolting from his touch ever so subtly as his dark voice rasped in your ears once more.

“Uh, hello, anybody home? I asked you a question, it’d be rude not to answer it. You have better manners than that, my dear. Go on, tell me, I’m curious now…” You watched as his tongue quickly flickered out in that weird way it always did, his jaw clicking in the blink of an eye. It was a tick you had noticed fairly quickly after meeting him. He couldn’t help it but it disturbed you nonetheless, an ode to his insanity.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, head feeling fuzzy as you blinked up at him.

He looked at you with straight lips and bored eyes, already expecting a response you were late saying.

“I-um, I’m sorry I was just distracted. I’m fine, thank you for asking. Nothing new has-has really gone on…” You cleared your throat, releasing a steady breath to calm your buzzing nerves. You looked up at him sheepishly, timidly, as he regarded you clinically, like a surgeon trying to dissect a lie.

You could understand his vexation; you yourself were gradually becoming irritated at your lack of attentiveness. Maybe it was because you hadn’t seen him in so long that was throwing you off balance… or maybe because he seemed much handsomer now than he did then. Maybe your loneliness was making him seem much more appealing than he ever was.

Whatever the case may be, you still felt delightfully anxious, a bubbly sick feeling in your tummy that was oddly giddy yet nervous, like you were talking to your crush for the first time. You hated that feeling but could do nothing to deter it.

He smacked his red painted lips, a low displeased hum sounding from the back of his throat, “Mm, distracted, you say? And what are these… distractions, hmm?” His voice was low and clipped, cocking his head at you as he leaned just a little bit closer to you. It was almost a dare to see if you’d avoid the question altogether, his shadow enveloping you in an ironically terrifying way the back of your mind cringed at.

You were unsure of what to say exactly, crippled under his dark gaze and frowned smile as he stared down at you heatedly. His eyes were always so intense and smoldering despite seemingly holding nothing at the same time, blank and emotionless beads sat in the emptiness of inky black pits.

Your lips parted but no words seemed to sound; you were lost entirely in the ebony abyss of his eyes, not sure what to say or how to respond as you were just spewing sentences you yourself barely understood. You were just too busy talking to appease him that you didn’t even listen to a word you said.

“Well, tik tok dearest I don’t have all night.” Joker said numbly, gravelly, staring at you almost irritably for your odd behavior.

Even he seemed to notice your sudden shyness and it was starting to irritate him; you never seemed to have this problem before nor did you ever seem so agreeable. He was greatly familiar with your rude quips and pessimistic sarcasm yet he hadn’t heard a single one out of your mouth tonight.

How odd, not that he was complaining. He preferred you compliant, malleable.

You gulped once more, your gaze flickering down to his flattened red lips then back up to his eyes, hopefully before he noticed the action.

You looked back at him, clearly nervous for no evident reason, “Well I was just thinking about the last time I saw you. It has been a while…” You managed to formulate a legible excuse, voice soft and almost dainty as you looked up at him doe eyed.

You licked your dry lips as you regarded his expression to your statement; it seemed your words flowed easily from the whispers of the heart, ones you weren’t especially keen on sharing yet seemed to share anyway. They just seemed to have spoken themselves before you could stop them… he was just too close, much too close, it was fogging up your ability to think rationally.

His eyes seemed to register your words, brow flicking subtly in interest like you’d caught him off guard — you most likely did as you yourself weren’t even prepared to hear what you just said either.

He stared over your face heatedly, eyes an inky black, prodding with amusement and curiosity yet he just seemed to stare at you. The air shifted then, warmer now, more suffocating, as you felt your heart start to race at the close proximity and eye contact.

You could feel yourself start to panic slightly at the unexpected moment of intimacy you hadn’t meant to initiate, but you were also curious as to what he would say… maybe he’d surprise you. As you said, he was conclusively unpredictable and erratic, always leaving you guessing. Maybe he’d say something a part of you wanted to hear.

He was tall and narrow in the white expanse of your living room, a dark purple blotch stained on cream colored sheets, so out of place and vaguely threatening it made the air feel thick and smothering. You were finding it hard to think clearly with him this close to you, smelling like he did with his proper purple suit and shiny black shoes.

He was more polished today than usual, not so unruly and scraggly as he usually was… you could even make out the muscle sculpted underneath the confines of his purple suit and the way it tailored to his size perfectly and complimentary.

Maybe he tried to look good for you. Maybe just this once.

You couldn’t dwell on that thought however at the sound of Joker’s voice snatching your attention once more.

He seemed to have found your response funny, letting out a wheezy laugh as his smile seemed to stretch across his scarred face for eons. You were too tense to laugh, watching as he did instead, standing idly by in confusion on what could’ve revoked that kind of response out of him (perhaps even slightly offended that he would dare laugh at your showcased vulnerability).

But, you also knew trying to make sense of the Joker’s actions was entirely asinine. His whole being, his whole existence, was made to be senseless and absurd. You’d have to be his crazy to understand his crazy, a level you weren’t quite ready for.

He finally looked at you after his giggles transpired, regarding you with amused eyes and a wide smile.

“Ahh, so what you’re really saying is, you missed me?” He grinned, cocking his head at you animatedly, his yellow stained teeth bright in the dark expanse of his mouth.

You didn’t reply, too stunned he would say such a thing and too frightened by the pumping in your chest and the words caught in your throat. He was bold, brave even, for saying such a heavy thing so simply. You eyed him astounded, opting with your shaky silence as a reply instead.

Joker scoffed at you, rolling his eyes dramatically once more, “Well go on, tell me. Tell me you missed me, say it. It’s not good to, uh, lie to ourselves, is it? Honesty is, and always will be, the best policy.” He grinned sarcastically, his warm hands flinging around his face in a dramatic gesture to emphasize his words, his arms long and not too muscular, adequately thin and yet still capable.

He chuckled darkly, handsomely, now eyeing you in a twisted fashion much different than you did; he wanted to hear you say it, tell him, confess to him, submit to him. And it gave him no greater pleasure than breaking you down to crumbs in his palms… his to use as he pleases and his to do whatever with as he pleases.

But, on this specific matter, he just wanted to hear you say it. He was fully aware of how much of a struggle it would be for you to do so, finding sadistic pleasure in your obvious discomfort.

You gulped again as agnostic revelations pulled at your weak heart once more… had you missed him? Maybe you did, but maybe only in the sense that isolation made you desperate for any form of contact, maybe only in the sense that loneliness made you crave connection. Sure, you’d say you missed him, you’d say you missed him the same way seclusion made you miss anybody, the same way an uprooted flower would miss its green pastures.

However, had you missed him specifically? To be honest, you didn’t want to dig too hard for the answer, entirely too afraid you’d unearth the truth you purposefully buried deep in the dirt a long time ago. Your mind was fragile enough already, deteriorating slowly and gradually the longer you denied and embraced your oddly infatuated companionship with the man in front of you.

You were sure that if you epiphanized to any serious truths you werent sure you wanted to admit your mind would atrophy into a numb, lifeless thing hanging onto the remembrance of Jokers smiling face, left rotting with the harsh witness marks of his perverse adoration.

You blinked at him, mouth going dry and fingertips pulsing as you mumbled out what you only could, “Maybe I did…”

Yes, still the truth — enough so as to satisfy him — but not the whole truth you wouldn’t dare say out loud, not even in the uncertainty of your mind where Joker lurked in the darkest and brightest corners of, easily susceptible to your every thought and feeling.

You couldn’t take that risk of him knowing you inside and out. You needed at least something to yourself, something not shared with him even if it was your own darkest thoughts and desires.

Joker hummed delightfully at your response, giddy at your honesty and the way it made his stomach flutter with black-winged bats.

His eyes closed shut and he seemed to burst into a fit of elated giggles that had his foot stomping on the ground. He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed, laughed so much it disturbed you yet you found yourself blushing anyway.

How pathetic could you be? So enamored with the same man you loathed entirely.

Joker seemed to gather his wits after a moment, a grin still on his white face as he approached you once more, but this time much, much closer than before.

“Oh, oh isn’t that just sweet. You missed me, did you? That’s just what I wanted to hear.” He almost growled possessively, his limber arms quickly wrapping around the lower curve of your waist, hastily pulling you into his sturdy chest with a delectable purring noise that shook through his ribs and reverberated onto the palms of your hands.

Your own breath escaped you in a gasp as your hands smacked into him, breathless and shocked at the sudden contact and closeness. You were quite unprepared for this, your heart racing in your ears and your breaths warm and heavy from such close contact after not having any for so long.

As soon as you touched him and he touched you it felt like something inside of you burst, flooded your internal systems with a need so violent you couldn’t pull away no matter how much your frail mind told you to do so.

You welcomed the embrace naturally, disregarding any logical thought as a soft exhale left your shaky lips. Over time you had learned to smother out your inner sagacity until it was just a dull ache in the back of your skull you could easily ignore.

You welcomed the warmth of his chest and the feel of his foreign embrace, enjoyed it even after a month of not a single touch or sound from another human. You really were so brainwashed beyond your own understanding. You sought him out yet desperately wanted to resist him; you wanted him to hold you and appease you yet you wanted him to leave, leave forever and never come back.

Still, you found yourself melting into him against your volition with a stuttering breath, muscles tense as you still considered letting go but knowing you weren’t going to. You felt comforted and safe in the absence of space between your bodies, something contradictory and confusing as he was very, very dangerous and most likely bound to hurt you with any wrong move you made in your shared future.

You were still sane enough to acknowledge at least that…

Again, you smothered that flame of rationality burning in the back of your head and didn’t bother denying him, mind going blank and empty as your manicured fingers tightened around the folds of his jacket. You exhaled with a soft tremble on your breath, slowly looked up at him with parted lips and darkened eyes.

He looked down at you all the same, eyes delectable and merry yet with carefully concealed undertones of something darker, something evil that resounded brightly in the darkness of his eyes. Maybe a flame of his own he was embracing rather than ignoring, something more sinisterly amatory you didn’t dare question any further as he went to lay his down on your shoulder.

“Ahhh, you smell sweet. Deliciously sweet. You wear perfume just for me? Aren’t you a doll.” He chuckled huskily at his own statement, voice muffled and gravelly like stones on rough pavement. He set his head into the crook of your neck, his cold cheek resting on the warmth of your shoulder.

His two hands were snug around your midsection, fingers digging into your skin sharply like you would dare push him away and run out the door. He couldn’t ever let that happen. He needed you here, with him, could never imagine you running away unless you wanted the city to drown in its own blood.

He’d find you of course. He’d always find you even if it meant burning the whole world to do it.

You swallowed thickly as his fingers tightened on you, looking at the plain wall behind him as your hands dug into the velvety fabric of his coat.

This position was oddly intimate yet very much appreciated. He was always a touchy man, never bothered keeping his hands to himself but they were mostly just meaningless touches, touches meant to annoy and distract you, not sweet embraces meant to console you and romance you.

You felt his warm breath caress your neck as a beat of silence passed, buzzing in your ears with the sound of your breaths. It was ticklish and gentle, a pleasant low hum sounding soon after.

You couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose on your skin from the purposeless action, your eyelids fluttering at the pleasant sensation as he breathed once more.

You were completely shrouded in him now; his sickly sweet scent, his hair tickling your jaw, his strong arms wrapped around you, his raggedy breaths soothing the skin of your neck. It was all overwhelming and all encompassing on your senses. All you could feel was him, see him, smell him… it was making your mind drown in its own deranged splendor as thoughts of wisdom and logic seemed to wither away into ash and smoke.

A cruel metaphor simply portrayed for how similar it was to your own real life. Shrouded by him. Controlled by him. All him and only him.

You could feel your sanity literally slipping away from you the longer you tried to rationalize the hunger biting at your stomach. You could feel it sliding down your body and melting at your heels like you were in the dawn of a new age, shedding old skin and starting anew; a catharsis of your own lunacy as you found yourself craving him to be closer, to hold you tighter, to meld himself as one with you so you’d never have to be alone again.

Another beat of silence passed before you spoke once more, something your mind didn’t want to register but your heart seemed eager to scream.

“I wanted to look good for you.” You mumbled quietly in the small space between his ear and your pink painted lips, eyes flickering down to his green hair then back to the wall as the whiteness of it seemed to blur around you so all you could focus on was him, your savior, your capturer, your most abominable admirer; your nightmare living in a daydream.

You don’t know what made you say it, what made you whisper it into the absence of noise, but maybe it was the way he held you against him like he didn’t want to let you go. Maybe it was the way he hummed lowly on the skin of your shoulder pleasantly and soundly, content to stand with you in the center of your white living room and be the only source of comfort and color you could ever have again.

Perhaps it was the sense of belonging you always craved and now felt in the warm crevice between his arms that made you confess it, of that same sense of purpose he had promised you all those months ago.

“Did you now? For me? Well aren’t you a darling.” Joker hissed the word into your cheek, wet lips rubbing against your skin as he picked his head back up upon hearing your voice.

Your eyes closed momentarily at the feel of his lips on you, a burst of tingly sparks pulsing through your entire left side as neediness crept into your palms. You held him tighter when he seperated his head from you, not wanting him to go now, wishing for him to stay, to keep holding you and to never release you into the cavern of cold that was your soulless living room.

His hands stayed where they were much to your enjoyment, his broad chest still pressed against yours as he looked down at you with a dead yet pleasantly satisfied expression. You had been with him long enough to identify the subtle cues in his rather stagnant facial quirks.

He smacked his red lips, releasing a gravelly hum once more as he cocked his head at you. Observing the way you looked up at him with so much… devotion.

It was written all over your face in bold black marker, eyes glistening with vehement devotement that made a wheezy chuckle bubble in his scratchy throat.

He felt ecstatic, warm fuzzy feelings he didn’t know the word for swirling around in his empty stomach and clearing away any cob web stuck to his dark heart.

Yes, yes you were his and you’d always be his no matter what you had to say on the matter. He had decided it a long time ago and will enforce it for the rest of the many lives you’ll suffer through together.

Your head felt fuzzy, eyes heavy and breaths low and lagged as you stared up at him earnestly. You could feel the arousal pulling at your gut, the admiration stirring in your heart as you looked up at him. He was handsome, so handsome even with the scars, even with the paint, even with the villainous degeneracy hidden under the scarred flesh.

You had him, you had him almost as entirely as he had you and you knew it, he knew it… but you could never say it out loud because you fear the repercussions if you ever did. If you ever completely, entirely, unconditionally gave yourself to him in every sense of the word. But, to your dismay, or to your satisfaction, you already did in a lot of ways.

However, admitting it, fundamentally giving yourself to him, you knew that would be the last straw for your dwindling sanity. You were already so severely fragmented, stained with so many cracks and blemishes that just a simple touch would shatter you.

Your mind was all you had left, all that was left of value. Everything else belonged to him. Your soul, your body, your life. But it was really hard to focus on such noble things when he was this close to you; a handsome, devious, shadow glooming over your light and dimming it completely, smelling the way he did and looking at you the way he did with this peculiar act of tenderness.

It did nothing but aid your arousal further, his hard yet gentle touches and intense yet glittering eyes.

Joker regarded you intensely, his own morbid admiration for you leaking through his palms as his left hand started to glide up the curves of your body slowly and meticulously.

He slid it around your waist, his eyes following the motion to gawk at every dip and curve he touched that was masked by your pale green dress. His finger tips pressed into your skin, into your stomach as his palm stretched upwards, feeling you like it was the for the first time, like it was solely done to tease you.

The tingling sensation pulsing through your thighs, tingling pleasurably on your skin underneath his eager hand, it all made your breaths quicken and pulse jump. You stared at him lustfully now, submitting to your own delusion as you found yourself wanting him. Strongly.

Eventually his hand made it to the valley of your breasts but he made no extra moves to touch them directly as he would in the past. He was abnormally patient, not so frantic with his touches almost like he was calculating them, so unlike his usual nature.

His eyes looked at the areas of your chest he didn’t touch though, heavy and dark, stirring with a lust of his own just as intense and passionate as yours as his thumb grazed the skin of your left breast.

Your breath stopped for a moment, eyes boring into his face even though he didn’t look back at you, eager to see what he’d do next. There was a small, very minuscule part of your brain utterly disgusted with yourself for wanting his bloodstained hands on you in the first place.

You did not listen to it, core hot and clenching around nothing as you stared at him, hyper aware of his hand smoothly sliding up your neck now.

A very vulnerable place, exposed to the unforgiving grip of his palm if he so chose to squeeze the life out of you. You didn’t stop him even as that thought crossed your mind, too hypnotized by his essence and touch to deny yourself the luxury of feeling it.

He looked at your face then, black, hungry eyes flickering up to yours as his fingers wrapped around your jaw and pressed harshly into the fat of your cheeks.

You inhaled sharply at the sting, letting out a hiss as your cheeks dug into your teeth.

Still, you found pleasure in the brutality of his touch, fingers digging into his coat so hard the tips of them burned as you stared back boldly into his starved, manic eyes ablaze with something dangerous and predatory.

You felt something similar sitting heavy in the pit of your gut, something untamed and primal that needed him inside you as importantly as you needed food to eat. It was fierce and wild, striking roughly under your skin like whips and rattling like chains for a taste of what only he could give you.

He forced your head back with a gentle push on your cheeks, eyes crackling with the fervor of a black flame as he inched forward… forward… forward, until his scarred mouth was right above your parted lips and his straight nose was tapping against yours.

You breathed heavily now at such close quarters, so pent up and overstimulated you were confused on whether you wanted him or utterly hated him. But with a need so intense it stung your core and shook your soul, with your stomach so tightly wound together and aching, with the space between your thighs pulsing and dripping for something to appease it, you regretfully, indubitably knew your answer.

He was your answer, him and his skilled, frazzled hands and forked tongue; the serpent tempting you to corruption, to rid yourself of any semblance of innocence you had left.

It was the loneliness you told yourself, the loneliness that made you feel such a way for him. Although, it wasn’t loneliness that made you stare up at him like a horny, doting slave bound to his every wish and desire. You made that choice all on your own.

“You know… I always wonder how I found such a sweet thing like you. So lost, so pathetic. I almost pitied you, really I did…” He grunted lowly, voice a gravely, manic hiss that had your skin crawling pleasurably.

You didn’t dare look away from his gaze as his fingers tightened on your cheeks, not even finding yourself capable of being insulted by his words. You were too enraptured by the rasp in his voice, by the way he stared so intensely at you with equal fervor.

He shook your face for emphasis, your cheeks digging into the ridges of your teeth so hard it stung but you made no move to protect yourself.

The pain only soothed you, made you wetter, only made you more greedy for him and his hands, for the sweet release of pain and pleasure only he could bring you. The pain made you feel something, something other than boredom and guilt these white walls seemed to torture you with, something other than self loathing you seemed to be haunted with.

He was the one that made you feel. He was the one that made you feel like you were still living at all, he was the one that made you feel alive.

He looked over your face intensely, as though inquisitively looking for something beyond it. Picking and prodding at the scattered pieces of your brain for something you didn’t know. His jaw was clenched as he dug his fingers harder into your cheeks, holding your face sternly so you couldn’t do anything but look back at him.

You winced at the pressure, yet your thighs pulsed and fingers tensed for more as your gaze bore into his with sparkling, edacious irises.

“But now I got’cha, don’t I? I have you and you belong to me, isn’t that right, honey? Go on, I want you to say it. Say it now…”

You nodded your head barely in acceptance, eyes glued to him as heavy breathed escaped your lips. You were stuck on him, stuck on the sound of his voice and entirely fixated on his words no matter how deluded they sounded.

“Say it!” He demanded with a rough, agitated voice, tone impatient and thunderous with his demeanor suddenly hostile. He thrashed your face back so hard you yelped.

“Ah! Yes, yes, I belong to you.” You repeated as instructed through clenched teeth, staring up at him with fear blown eyes. He seemed to like your answer as the tight grip around your cheeks dulled slightly.

You panted as the sting throbbed in your cheeks, eyes blown wide and teeth clenched yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. He looked crazy but smelt so good, acted like a lunatic but maybe only because he was crazy about you. Crazy about you and only you as his reciprocated feelings seemed to be affecting you the same.

You watched him grin then, something insane and diabolical as giggles erupted from the base of his throat once more.

“Yes, you’re mine. Mine, mine, mine, all mine!” He laughed, jiggling your face in his grip as his mouth fell wide open and his scars seemed to stretch and move in the motion of a crazed smile.

You didn’t laugh with him — you never laughed with him — just stared at him with a newfound fright and even brighter yearning, a yearning so powerful that all you could do was stare at his vermilion lips and the jagged scars cut into either side of them.

Once upon a time you heavily disliked them, was rather perturbed by his disfigurement but now… now they didn’t scare you for he wouldn’t be him without them, those same scars that haunted your dreams yet you couldn’t stop fantasizing about.

Joker’s crazed laughter died down after a minute. A quick minute in your perspective because you couldn’t stop looking at his lips, thinking of them finally leaving harsh bite marks into the hollow of your collarbone with blood red paint smeared over the bruises on your soft skin.

It was a tantalizing thought, one he had initiated many times before yet tonight he seemed to be prolonging the agenda. For the first time ever, you were the impatient one, craving his touch to feel you and satisfy that burning bulb of longing shining bright in the pit of your belly.

He looked at you heatedly, dryly, now standing back to his tall, intimidating stature as his hand released your face from its tight grip. You stared back at him unwavering as he slid it down your jaw tentatively until it was around your neck, resting at the base of it.

You swallowed nervously as he stared hard at the area, gloved fingertips pressing into the skin like he was struggling not to strangle you right then and there.

The thought scared you, how easily you presented yourself to him and discarded any self persevering instincts molded into the strings of your DNA over the course of generations. You were going against your very nature letting him touch you like this but you relished in it, let it wash over you like a pool of warm water.

His other hand swiftly came up and to your face, the pad of his thumb softly tracing over the plushness of your parted lips.

You reveled in the soft feeling it arose out of your sensitive body, a breathy sound leaving your chest like the whisper of a breeze between sheer flower petals. Delicate and dainty, rendering you breathless.

Maybe this was what he meant when he said you’d have purpose again, when he’d promised you belonging.

Yes, you’d have purpose in the sense that you had purpose to him, that he needed you in his own sick, self serving ways and everything you could offer him. You’d always have purpose as long as you stood next to him. Purpose to be found when he was buried deep in your heat and cradled in your heart during the cold evenings spent between Egyptian cotton sheets only his lustful animosity could make warm.

Yes, you’d always feel like you belonged as long as you were with him, entrapped in this huge house he graciously gave you with its sickening white walls and disgusting velvety red curtains. Yes, you would always belong to him in the sense that you didn’t have a choice but to be. He has found you and you are now in his clutches, he has found you and you will never be lost again.

You belonged to him. Your heart, happiness, health, and everything else was entirely his. A gruesome sense of belonging twisted in the dire fabrics of his manipulation, intertwined with his body and absent soul. You belonged to him, tethered to him like a ball and chain, a woefully symbiotic bond.

Even now, with his boney hand around your throat so easily capable of draining your life force you didn’t bother trying to save yourself. Your very existence was interlocked with his and had been since he first laid eyes on you. You didn’t have anyone but him to trust, even if that meant trusting him with your own life and death.

He had the power to let you thrive, as he has proved countless times with his endless money and pointless gifts, giving you a life anyone else could so easily live but he had all the capability of destroying it as well. He was the King of your small kingdom and you were nothing but the romantic whim he could just as easily spare, a victim caught in the crossfire of his demented devotion.

Your life was quite literally in his hands and unfortunately for you he had an unfathomable proclivity to ruin anything he touched.

The thought made you feel shame for yourself, knowing how dumb you were being as drops of lucidity dripped down the cracks in your fried brain yet your lust didn’t deter. You had already acknowledged that you were deranged in your own way, so desperate for connection that you’d find it anywhere. It just so happened you found it here, in his sticky trap you’d never escape from for reasons beyond your own capability.

Joker removed the hand that was on your neck to the other side of your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands with a much more gentle touch than was exhibited before.

“Now, let me see a smile… go on, smile for me. I wanna see a great… big… smile.”

He smiled slightly at that, a dry fleeting motion with no real effort behind it, cradling your cheeks in his palms like delicate birds. His thumbs rubbed the corners of your lips then stretched them into a smile for you. You didn’t resist him, loosening your lips as he stretched them so far they cracked.

You ignored the burn, your eyes showed no signs of happiness as a smile usually demonstrated. Just lustful watery things staring up at him pleadingly, begging for him to finish this act of his and relinquish the pain you were starting to feel in your lower regions.

Your muscles were tense, body longing for him to touch it in the places you needed him most, to carve his admiration into the fat of your hips and apex of your thighs so you’d never lose it. You were dirty with his tainted love anyway, too much to care anymore; could never feel clean.

He stared at your smile with a criminal look in his eyes, a cackle scratching at the back of his throat as your fingers tightened even tighter around his jacket until the edges were engulfed in your own warm palms. You fought the desire to yank his lips down to yours, knowing you should never rush him no matter how impatient you were becoming.

“Ah, ah, ah, there we go. Now isn’t that pretty?” He rumbled fiendishly, satisfied now as his thumbs slid down your cheeks in a frowning motion until your lips gradually reset themselves into a line.

You swallowed once more, staring up at him wantonly as his hands slid down to lock onto your upper arms. Sparks burst where he touched you, your lifeless body abuzz with an invigorating feeling only his greedy fingers could make you feel.

You didn’t say a thing, unable to speak, longing for his lips to touch yours and for his lithe hands to familiarize themselves with the smooth skin of your body as he has so many times before.

You couldn’t imagine how desolate you looked now, so wrecked in the pupils of his glowering eyes as he stared down at you with an intensity you easily recognized, an intensity burning with the promise of wrecking you entirely later on.

“Now, what do you say we go and have a little fun, huh? I’d really appreciate it if you’d do me this little favor. You know I hate to make a fuss but, uh, it’s been a…rough… night.” He mumbled sarcastically in remembrance of something you had no clue of, rolling his eyes at himself as his tongue flicked out of his mouth again, his thumbs stroking the skin on your arms in an oddly patient way.

He hummed with his scratchy voice in the tone of a question, staring down at you blankly in expectation of a yes.

You nodded your head dumbly, so consumed with want that all you could see was him, think of him, him, him, him. Him and his devilish gloved hands and long purple fingers that had killed so many yet only seemed to bring you back to life in the harsh and tender touches they spared you. Blood stained hands, hands tainted with grandeur sin and murder that only seemed to exhilarate and enliven you.

Him, him and his red lips that spoke such curses and cruelty yet kissed you so delicately like a golden star dotted in the blanket of a navy blue sky. Him and his body riddled with scars and imperfections hotly intertwined with yours as he conquered you in a way so similar to how the Roman’s stormed the Greeks. Just as powerful, just as influential, just as legacy lasting.

“Okay.” You breathed out softly in acceptance of his words, of your own delusions, already staring at his lips as eagerly as a lifeless carcass only brought to life by his magical kiss; the most twisted tale of Snow White written in any media.

Joker grinned villainously, cackling at your behavior before his hands tightened their hold on you and he was lunging your smaller body towards his in a messy, much awaited kiss that left red paint smeared over your own lips in the same, wicked smile that he had.

How fitting.

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss @ghostslillady @boobaeri @prayingal (I think that’s everyone, hope you enjoy ☺️)

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mystellenia · 10 months ago

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romantic tension with abby

summary: in the warm glow of abby's bedroom, after a day of shared hobbies, you contemplate your deepening feelings for her and hope that perhaps she feels the same

content: friends (to lovers???), sfw, literally nothing else

notes: wrote a part two :p i need to write more fluff bc there is such a shortage AND especially with abby. this is like so domestic like in the way that there's no extra interactions. like this is literally how me and a friend would act after a day of painting!! just sleepy and tired zzzzz

(wc 0.7k)

the setting sun cast an orange glow on abby's bedroom where the two of you lay on her floor, bathing in the heat radiating from her large window. you'd just finished painting birdhouses for the married pair of sparrows that frequented the birdseed abby had set out. they would dance around each other and sing their chirpy harmonies and then take turns pecking at the various seeds from the feeder, so abby thought it necessary to handmake them houses in her shop.

this was one of your many duet activities of abby's "grandma hobbies," as you called them. you two had fed the ducks down at the lake, gone through an entire coloring book, built lego sets, and done nearly a dozen puzzles—one of which was glued and framed in abby's kitchen.

you guys spent every free moment of time together, and counted down the time until you could when one was busy. you were the closest of friends, but lately you found yourself wanting more—or at least thinking about how it would be if you were more. coming home to each other instead of making the fifteen-minute drive any time you wanted to see her. being able to actually tell her when she looked so pretty it made you hold your breath instead of chewing on your lip.

she shifted next to you, bending her legs at the knees and pulling you out of your thoughts. "i should probably wash the brushes before the paint dries on them, right?"

you almost tell her she shouldn't so that you could lay with her a little while longer, but you give in. "yeah, you should."

she sits up to stand, grunting as she lifts her body weight and moving to the crafting cloth where your birdhouses currently sat drying. you sat up and leaned against the foot of her bed, watching as she so delicately readjusts the cloth so that it doesn't smudge your paint job.

scrubbing your hands down your face, you push up off the bed and move to grab a sweatshirt of hers to change into, taking your paint-covered tank off and slipping the sweatshirt over your head. it sat baggy on your body with her being bigger than you are just about everywhere, and you threw the hood over your head and dropped onto the right side of her bed.

she returns with her hands patting on her sweats to dry them off. seeing you in the bed, she comes to sit next to you, with you on your back and her laying on her side to face you.

"you wanna just stay the night?" she says, her voice lifting at the end as if it were a question and not a declaration. "it's too late to go home alone."

"yeah, i think i will," you respond. you remember the origami book she bought at the farmer's market last saturday. "only if we make paper cranes until our fingers bleed from paper cuts tomorrow," you grin, turning to look at her and see she's already looking back at you.

"okay. i have lots of band-aids," she jokes.

you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, sheepishly smiling at the other while holding eye contact.

"can we also get those berry pastries from the cafe? and make those butterflies we saw on pinterest?" you ask, your cheeks still kissing your eyes.

"yeah, i'll wake up early to get them for breakfast," she nods. "and i only got that book so we can make things together—we can make whatever you want."

in place of a response, you slip your fingers between hers and tightly squeeze her hand, ignoring your frustration with the uncertainty of her feelings for you.

the tip of her nose pinks a bit before she opens her mouth. "good night. we need brain power for making cranes."

you turn onto your side as well to face her, your noses nearly touching. "good night, abby," you grin, high on the feel of her skin on yours and the way she's looking at you.

you fall asleep with a smile on your face because your close friend, abby, may just like you, too.

@picklesarenice69 @abbyandersonsrightbuttcheek

yayyy i’m back :3

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

#mystellenia 𐑂°‧₊#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x y/n #tlou abby #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 9 months ago

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Pinky Promise 2

Pinky Promise Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Summary: Part 2 of Pinky Promise. The two of you become close friends, but one night shows Jake just how much you trust him.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a hot minute since I have put something out but I promise you I have a good reason for it! I just had a baby and haven’t had time to sit down and write. But hoping to put out more content here soon! Thank you all for reading!!! - C

It was an ungodly time in the morning when you heard the doorbell ring. It took more will power than you would like to admit to even sit up in bed, head pounding with the slight elevation change. You wiped the sleep and last night’s makeup from your eyes, most likely smearing streaks of it across your face. And you sat there contemplating all of your life’s choices up to this point.

The doorbell seemed to yell at you, telling you that whoever was on the other side must have been impatient. A quick glance at the clock said it was 8:30 and you had to take a deep breath to not hurt the person who was making you get out of bed.

A few stumbling steps later, you opened the door to find a delivery guy with a bag of food. While you took the bag from him, the confusion was pretty clear. Even the guy who was turning to walk away could see it. “There is a note on the receipt.” And then he was gone.

Between the hangover from hell and very few hours of sleep you got; you were slow moving to get back inside. To anyone walking by you must have looked like you lost your mind with the amount of time you spent looking at the bag. But by some miracle, your legs took you back to bed while your mind was still reeling.

The bag didn’t have any sort of logo or name on it, but it did smell good. You opened it up and reached for the receipt first, trying to find answers.

The tacos I promised you. – Jake

A laugh came out as you put the piece of paper aside, making your way to the things that were making your mouth water. Breakfast tacos greeted you and suddenly being woken up was not a bad thing anymore.

You went to reach for your phone to thank the blond-haired pilot but stopped when you remembered exactly why you now had tacos. Your drunken self called your brothers most hated teammate last night because you didn’t want to get your brother involved. You winced at the thought of him finding out and pulled your hand back.

You dreaded looking at your phone, knowing Bradley most likely had blown it up after last night. So, instead of being a responsible adult who answered for her own actions, you turned your phone over. What you couldn’t see meant it wasn’t there. Denial was one of your favorite places to live in.

Jake seemed friendly enough, offering help whenever you needed. He also wasn’t quick to judge you like others. It wasn’t lost on you that Bradley had most likely told his teammates how “reckless and wild” you were, already painting a bad picture of you. But Jake didn’t make you feel that way. He actually made you think that you might be able to call him a friend, even if he didn’t see eye to eye with your brother.

Jake heard a knock at his door and tried to think who would be here at this time of night. The confusion only grew when he opened his door to find you walking past him and making yourself home on his couch.

“Ever think about how dumb Tuesdays are? Like the only thing they are good for is tacos.” Jake had to blink a few times for his mind to catch up to what was happening.

“I can��t say that I have. Did that burning question drive you all the way over here?” He closed the door and walked to the adjacent couch to sit. He had a feeling this was going to be a long visit.

“I had to thank you in person for the tacos since I’m ignoring my phone.” Jake’s eyebrows rose that comment and pushed you on it. He watched as you played with your hair, giving him a hint at one of your tells. You were either uncomfortable or nervous about your answer and he locked that piece of information away for later.

“Look, my brother can be a bit much sometimes and I didn’t have the energy to deal with him this morning. Then this morning quickly turned into this evening, and I figured it’s a lost cause now.”

Jake bit back a smile, “So, you thought ignoring him was your best option?” He thought back to his conversation with said pilot at work this morning and was surprised when he saw a new side of him.

Bradley at first apologized for “having to deal with you.” But once he realized he didn’t mind making sure you got home safe, he thanked him and said it won’t happened again. Jake brought up his sisters and how he would want to make sure that if they needed help, someone would be there regardless of how good of terms he might or might not be with that person. This seemed to clear the air between them a bit, making work a little easier.

“I know it isn’t exactly my smartest idea, but you can only be called irresponsible so many times before you lose it. Was he mad at you this morning?” Jake shook his head, “Thankful for getting you home. That’s all.” He watched you nod your head but could see you didn’t fully believe him.

“You pinky promise I didn’t make things worse for you at work?” Jake laughed at yet another pinky promise.

“Yes, I pinky promise. Have you eaten dinner? I have leftovers I was about to heat up.” And with that offering, it opened the door to a new friendship.

Jake often found himself answering the door to you, texting you at random hours of the day, and always making sure you made it home safely. The two of you quickly became good friends, making the random house visits become a normal thing. He started to look forward to you coming over, knowing that your carefree way of life would bring him some sort of interesting story.

Until tonight.

The knock on his door was a little later than normal. Typically, you made your way over right after he got home from work. But tonight, it was hours past that time. Jake opened the door expecting you to waltz right in, but instead you were stood rooted in place with your head down. Red flags instantly went up as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Hey darlin’. How about we head inside?” His heart dropped when you lifted your head up. A bruise was starting to form around your right eye and by the way you were holding yourself, he knew it was from something bad.

A million different scenarios went through his mind, each worse than the last. But until he could get to the bottom of it, he needed to make sure you were okay. The ever so confident girl he had come to adore was nowhere in sight as he fully took you in. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, almost as if you were trying to be as small as possible. Despite the swelling from the bruise, he could see redness around your eyes from crying.

He moved to the side as you slowly made your way in allowing him to close the door and give you his full attention. “Sweetheart, what happened?” You flinched as he moved his hand towards you, making him stop his motion and put his hand up.

“You know I would never hurt you. I just need to look at that eye.” He waited for you to give some sort of okay before he tried again.

“I had this date and he wanted to go back to his place. All I did was tell him no.” Your words came out as a near whisper, but Jake heard you loud and clear. He had to take a second to calm himself down to not scare you any further.

“Can I give you a hug?” His words surprised you. The two of you were never one to show affection but for him to ask permission before doing it solidified why you chose to come here. A small head nod and he pulled you into his chest.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to feel that kind of fear.” And that simple gesture pushed you to your breaking point. The tears started all over again, but this time you felt a sense of comfort as you let them out. He continued to hold you for a few minutes and when he let go, you could see just how much this had affected him too.

He couldn’t help but think about his sisters and what he would do if they were ever in this situation. To have someone hit them simply because they said no made him sick to his stomach. Which is why he knew he needed to let your brother know.

“Sit down on the couch and I’ll grab you some ice to help with the swelling.” You did as he said, and Jake walked into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen vegetables for you. While he was in there, he sent a quick text to Bradley telling him he needed to come over now. Jake knew he would do it based on the zero interactions they have outside of work. Bradley would know something was wrong.

He walked back out and saw you curled up on the couch, wiping a few tears from your face. When he picked you up from that bar a few weeks ago, he never imagined the two of you would be here. But he was glad to be that person for you.

“Put this on your eye for fifteen minutes and it should help numb the pain a bit.” You took the bag from him and did as he said. “Also, your brother should be on his way.”

The look of panic crossed your face, and he knew there was a chance you didn’t want your brother to know.

“I know you don’t want him to find out, but this is something your brother would want to know. I promise you that.” He watched as you played with the ends of your hair.

“He is going to try and say it’s my fault.” Jake knew the two of you had a bumpy relationship with just how different your lives were. But he didn’t for one second think that your brother would ever blame you for this.

“Let me get one thing straight. This is by no way your fault. A man should never lay his hands on a woman no matter what the reasoning. You said no and he needed to respect that. End of story.”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Jake waited a second before he went to open it. He gave Bradley zero warning on what he was walking into, and you weren’t in the best headspace to begin with. He knew there was a chance this wasn’t going to go well, but your brother couldn’t be left out of this.

Jake opened the door and said, “Try and keep calm.” Bradley walked in and took one look at you and pushed Jake up the wall. “The fuck did you do, Bagman?” Jake knew the initial reaction was going to be rough, but he was hoping he would still be able to fly tomorrow.

You stood up and quickly tried to push your brother away. While he didn’t budge, you at least got his attention. “He didn’t do this. I didn’t know where to go so I came here.”

Bradley looked back to Jake for confirmation and then backed off. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked between the two of you. “Someone needs to start explaining. Now.”

Jake looked over to you to see what you wanted to do. He had no issue telling Bradshaw the whole story, but he didn’t want to step on your toes. You didn’t tell him the two of you were friends for a reason, and he wasn’t sure how much you wanted to explain.

You took a deep breath and tried your best to answer, “Ever since the night Jake gave me a ride home, we’ve been hanging out. He’s been a good friend, one that I probably don’t deserve, but someone I know I can go to. I had a date tonight and it clearly didn’t go well. I was going to go home but I knew it wasn’t the best idea. Here was the next best place.”

Bradley shook his head, “Why here? Why not to my house? You know you can come to me for anything.”

You looked down as you said, “You always say how reckless I am, and I didn’t want this to be another huge disappointment for you.”

You heard Bradley curse under his breath but couldn’t find the courage to look up. Which is why you let out a yelp when he put a hand on your shoulder. “I know I’m hard on you but that’s because you’re the only family I have left. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me for things. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. But this? This is something I need to know, and I would never say it’s your fault. Something like this shouldn’t have happened and you best believe I am going to kill the guy who did this to you.”

You gave him a small nod and he turned your head to get a better look at your eye. “This is going to be a nasty bruise. Did he get you anywhere else?”

Jake watched in curiosity when your eyes seemed to light up some. “No. I stopped him before he could do anything else. Didn’t hurt as bad this time either.” The two pilots were confused until Jake looked down at your hand to see some slight bruising.

“Looks like you got him good.” Bradley caught on but then asked what you meant by “this time.”

You looked over to Jake for help explaining. “Killer over here has a nasty right hook. Said you taught her how to throw it.”

Bradley slowly nodded his head and almost looked excited when he asked if you used it on Jake. “You wish.” He chuckled some and then looked over to his teammate. “Thanks for looking out for her. Clearly you are doing a better job at it than me.”

Jake smirked, “Just one more thing to add to the list that I’m better at.”

A/N: Thoughts? Still deciding if I am going to add another one of these to the mini-series. Thank you so so much for reading!! - C

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy @alldaysdreamers

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #topgun maverick #topgun #chelsea writes

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 2 months ago

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beautiful

pairing: boyfriend hyunjin x skinny fem reader

genre: comfort, soft smut

word count: ~2.2k

warnings: reader is insecure about her body, crying, pet names, unprotected sex

an: this is for the person that requested this in my dms (it won’t let me tag you but i’ll send you a message that i posted it!) and it’s also for @jsabimi (she didn’t necessarily ask, but i also wrote it for her lol i hope that’s okay) i really hope i did this one right. i am a chubby girl myself, so i don’t really have the reference for feeling too thin. im really nervous to post this but i tried my best to put myself in that frame of mind and i just hope it turned out okay. i hope it’s comforting because yall deserve that. ♡

masterlist • chubby girl version w chan

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

it was a normal sunday. soft lofi music played in the background as you bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch. your boyfriend had disappeared to his room, suddenly saying the urge to paint struck him and he must not ignore it. that was a normal thing for him, so you just chuckled and agreed. he hadn’t been gone but ten minutes when you could hear him calling.

“angel?” he called from down the hall. you continued wiping the counter with a cloth as you called back to him. “yeah?”

“could you come in here please?”

you folded the towel up nicely and sat it next to the sink, before padding your bare feet down the hallway. you poked your head in the room. hyunjin was at his desk, papers strewn across, paint tubes precariously perched on the edge. his hair was every which way, having run his fingers through it over and over. he turned when he heard you approaching.

“could you come here, my love?” he stuck his hand out, reaching for you. you smiled and crossed the distance of the room, placing your hand in his. he pulled you into his lap. he looked down at you with soft eyes and brushed your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck. he kissed you there, gently, no hidden meaning or lust behind it, just a simple peck. “do you think you could pose for me?” he asked, kissing the material of your t shirt that covered your shoulder.

your stomach turned in knots. pose for him? like how? you looked at him. “i don’t know hyune..”

“please? i want to paint but i need inspiration.” he nuzzled his nose against the skin of your throat. “and you’ve never let me paint you before.”

he was right. and it was for good reason. him painting you meant you had to sit and let him look at you for who knows how long. just sit there and let him study your body. you didn’t think you could do it.

“why don’t you paint me some flowers?” you suggested.

“i’ve painted so many flowers.” he whines. “i want to paint you.”

tears started welling up against your waterline. you wanted to make him happy, but you really didn’t think you could do this. and that made you feel.. ridiculous. a single tear fell over your cheek and landed on his wrist. his head snapped up, analyzing your face.

“angel..” he soothed. “why are you crying?”

the acknowledgment of your tears only made them fall quicker, soft streams flowing down your face. he did his best to catch them with his fingers. “you don’t have to pose for me. i didn’t mean to make you cry.” he guided your head to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing gently. you sobbed quietly into his shirt.

“lovely, where is this coming from?” he whispered.

your hands balled in the material of his shirt, your head shaking back and forth, unable to get the words out.

“did i do something?” he asked. “let me help you.” he rubbed soft strokes across your back.

you took a deep breath, doing your best to calm yourself, before looking up at him. he was blurry through your tear filled eyes but you could still see the concern on his face. “posing for you.. is scary.”

he wiped your cheeks, petted your hair, did anything he could think of to comfort you. “why is it scary, my love?” he took one of your hands in his and squeezed. “it’s just me. there’s nothing to worry about.”

you looked down at your joined hands. “i don’t want you to look at me..”

an expression of pure confusion washed over his features. “don’t want me to look at you?” he thought about it for a second. “angel, i hate to break this to you, but i look at you all the time. it’s one of my favorite things to do.”

a watery chuckle escaped your throat at that. “but looking at me for a moment is different than studying me for a painting.” you tried to explain yourself. “i’m not.. pretty enough for a painting.”

“where in the world did you get the idea that you’re not pretty enough for a painting?” his heart hurt at your words. “if anything, you’re too pretty. i’m not sure my painting skills would do you justice.”

“you’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.” you sniffled.

he thought hard about what he could do to make you see what he sees. how he could make you understand. he thought if you would just let him paint you or draw you, that maybe you could see. “do you trust me?” he asked suddenly.

you nodded without hesitation. you trusted him more than anyone else.

“even if it’s scary, trust me. okay?”

you nodded again, your nervousness growing.

he patted your thigh twice. “go sit on the bed for me.” he kissed your cheek before gently shooing you in the direction of the bed.

on shaky legs you did as he asked, awkwardly perching yourself on the edge of the mattress and facing him. he grabbed his sketch pad and a pencil and held them in his lap. “now take your clothes off.”

you eyes widened in fear. “hyune..” you said in protest.

“do you trust me?” he interrupted. you nodded again. “it’s just me and you, angel.”

your eyes welled with tears again as you grabbed the hem of your oversized shirt. it fit you more like a dress and that’s the way you liked it. it did its job to hide everything. but if you took it off.. everything would be visible. you started to spiral. has he ever seen you naked in the daylight before? maybe he doesn’t really know what you look like. would he think you looked bony? would he be disgusted?

“baby you’re overthinking.” he said. “i’ve seen you bare before, and you’re so beautiful. this is just a different setting. it’s okay.”

you wondered for a fleeting moment if he could read your mind. and with a deep shaky breath, you lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it on the floor. you had your eyes closed, you arms wrapped around your middle. the cold air giving you goosebumps.

“there you go, pretty.” he smiled. “now your pants.”

the pants seemed easy after your top was off. you kicked them to the floor, leaving you in just your bra and panties. you still had your eyes closed, not wanting to see his face, to see the disappointment that must surely be in his eyes.

you heard him exhale, a shaky sound. “now.. uh.. could you lean back? rest on your hands?”

you did as he asked, putting your hands behind you and resting on your palms. you felt fully exposed now. your body shaking with fear. you worried that your ribs were visible. that your hips were poking out. but you refused to open your eyes to check. keeping them closed was the only thing keeping you from panic.

he exhaled a shaky breath again. “my love.. you are breathtaking.” you could hear his pencil scraping against his paper, slowly and then quickly, slowly and then quickly, as he drew lines and shaded shadows.

after what felt like forever, sitting in the same position, you got lost in your own head, with your eyes closed and the rhythmic sound of his pencil, you felt peaceful. you didn’t notice him get up from his chair and cross the room. he knelt on the floor in front of you and reached out to touch your thighs. but he didn’t want to startle you. “angel..” he breathed out, a soft whisper.

you opened your eyes to find him kneeling between your knees, slowly bringing his hands to your skin. your breath hitched in your throat as his lithe fingers came in contact with your soft thighs. he gently spread them apart, his fingers ghosting up to your waist. he slotted himself between your legs, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you closer. he kissed your skin. kissed your hips at the hem of your panties, kissed your tummy just above your belly button, kissed your ribs under the cup of your bra, kissed your sternum. your hands found his hair, you insecurities slowly fading away with each kiss.

“you’re stunning.” he mumbled against your skin.

you shook your head no, unable to believe him, but loosing focus with him being so close.

“you’re perfect.”

he looked up at you through his lashes as he expertly unclasped your bra behind your back. he detached his lips from you to help you remove the clothing item and tossed it over his shoulder and onto the floor. his lips immediately returned to your skin. his tongue found your nipple, swirling and flicking. he watched as your head fell back, your mouth open. he was doing his best to commit it all to memory, doing his best to take in every detail so he could put it to paper later. he crawled up your body, his lips never leaving you, but traveling up. he kissed your collarbones, your neck, your jaw, and finally your lips, as he helped you recline back onto the sheets.

he kissed you deeply as he hovered over you, one hand supporting his weight, the other hand rubbing softly over your panties. you sighed against his lips, your body tingling. his tongue explored your mouth, he tasted of the coffee he had with his lunch.

your hands roamed under his shirt to feel his torso, running up and down the expanse of muscle. the hand he had in between your legs, gently pulled your panties to the side. he slipped his middle finger between your lips. “so wet baby..” he breathed against your mouth. “so beautiful.”

he slipped a finger inside, and then another, slowly pushing in and pulling out, curling them to touch that special spot inside. your nails dug into his bare shoulders, a gasp falling past your lips. he continued his motions, the sounds of your arousal floating in the air around you. and too soon for your liking, he removed his fingers and sat back on his heels. he looked down at you, admiring. and you could see nothing but love in his eyes. maybe a pinch of lust clouded his vision, but mostly love.

“you are so beautiful.” he ran his fingers over the skin of your tummy. “i could never paint this. i could never get it right. but god i want to try.”

he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down, along with his boxers, kicking them off. he slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it in the same direction of his pants, a growing pile of both your clothes on the floor.

he grasped himself in his hand, rubbing up and down, spreading his arousal along his shaft. “do you see what you do to me?”

“please..” you reached for him, quietly begging.

he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself in. his body fell on top of yours. one hand cradling your head, the other hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers together. his head was buried in your neck, kissing and licking your skin as he breathed in your ear. you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you. “my love..” he breathed. “so beautiful, my love.. fuck..”

his thrusts increased in speed and you fluttered around him. “feels so good..” you whined.

“you’re a goddess..” he kissed your neck and bit your earlobe. “i can’t last much longer.. cum with me.”

and with a sigh of his name, you let go around him, squeezing him, causing him to release inside you with a whimper.

he collapsed next to you, breathing heavy and kissing every inch of skin he could reach with his lips. he collected himself for a moment, enjoying this proximity, before pulling away and standing up. you admired his body, his muscled back, as he returned to his chair at his desk.

“where are you going?” you pouted.

“i have to finish the sketch.” he said, grabbing his pad and pencil. “i got too excited earlier while looking at you and couldn’t finish it.” his face flushed with his confession and you smiled, eyes falling closed in a state of bliss.

you were almost asleep when you heard him get up and return to the bed. he sat next to you and presented you with the sketch. you looked at the paper and then looked at him, shocked. you sat up and took the paper from him, tracing the lines with your finger. “hyune.. this is..”

“beautiful?”

you looked at him. it was. that’s what it was. it was beautiful. “this is me..?” you asked in disbelief. but of course it was. you could see it. it was clearly you. the point of your nose, the curve of your shoulder, he even added a little color on your cheeks and lips. it was definitely you and it was beautiful.

“this is how i see you.” he said. “and it doesn’t even come close to capturing how truly stunning you really are.”

and for the first time.. you kind of believed him. you could see it with your own eyes. a work of art in front of you. and you were sure that your insecurities would return. but now you knew, that in those moments, you could return to hyunjin. return to his sketch, and be reminded that you really are beautiful.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

am i posting this at 11am on a tuesday? you bet i am. when inspiration strikes, you gotta roll with it. ik ive been posting a lot of ramblings and depressing shit on my blog recently and i really appreciate you guys letting me do that. am i back now? idk. i hope so. fingers crossed. ♡

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin stray kids #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #stray kids smut #hyunjins orange slice too

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baronessvonglitter · 24 days ago

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Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 3

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner!Javier Pena)

Word count: 2,895

Summary: It's not a date. Just a lawyer and his client celebrating her divorce...

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! No smut in this chapter. Rom com vibes. AU. Reader wears a dress and nail polish. Mentions of eating food and drinking alcohol. Mutual pining AND mistaken for a couple 😊. Love bombing. Divorce. I'm just pretending I know what lawyers do and that divorces are quite speedy. Dave is multi-lingual because I say so. Also, hints that all is not well between Dave and Carol? (c'mon, when do we ever paint them as truly happy?)

Author's note: "You can't blame yourself for the choices you made when you were too young to know better." 💜

Series Masterlist

"What does the L stand for?"

Dave realizes you're asking him a question and he looks up from his file, a smile flitting across his face. "Pardon?"

It's the first time you've seen him since that fateful day at the museum. After catching up on your plans to divorce Javier and citing every reason why you desire to be forever parted from your husband, Dave had invited you to his high-rise office the following day, where you are now, sitting across from him at his desk.

"Your card says 'David L. York," you remind him, a pink-polished finger running over the smooth white business card.

"Liam," he says, a small blush creeping up his neck. You smile when you notice it, aware of how attractive he is when he blushes.

"David Liam York," you say to yourself, liking the roll of it off your tongue. "I like it. It suits you."

His head is down, perusing the paperwork before him, but he smiles at your compliment. "Wish I could say I'd chosen it myself."

It's quiet again as he goes over the fine print, and you wander over to the window of his office, smiling to see your bookstore/bakery right across the street. There's a rush today for cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting. You'd give anything to be there instead of here, making your divorce a reality.

For now you silently glance around, interested to catch glimpses of who Dave is. Framed art lines the walls-- abstract shapes painted in bold blues and greens-- far from the childishly geometrical shapes done in primary colors found in most offices, along with his diploma from Harvard, proudly displayed next to a photo of Dave with the mayor.

"I handled his third divorce," he says, and you realize you've been staring at his photo for too long. You shake yourself from your thoughts.

"Everything's in order," he continues, pushing the papers away at last. "All you have to do is sign and the process server will bring it to Mr. Pena and he'll be served immediately."

"Is the process server attractive?" you ask, only half-kidding. "My husband can't resist a beautiful woman, and he won't know what hit him once he's served."

Dave allows a little laugh at this. "Sienna is a very pretty young woman. I think your husband will have to pick his jaw up off the floor before he realizes his gorgeous wife is divorcing him."

The initial prick of jealousy over Sienna's looks makes way for a wave of emotion when Dave calls you gorgeous. He realizes he's overstepped and tries to fix it, but you brush it off.

"I'll keep in touch with you during this process, but I advise you to just try to take your mind off it. Do something you enjoy, hang out with people who care about you. And I strongly advise you to ignore Mr. Pena should he call or try to see you. From everything you've told me he sounds like a garden variety narcissist. What you're doing right now is the right thing," he assures you.

Right then it's on the tip of your tongue-- you're privy to a mere outline of the goings-on within Javier's club. While a large part of you just wants to get the proceedings over with, a deeper, baser instinct desires to make the bastard pay for his crimes. You're the only one with any insight as to the illegal activities.. at least, the only one willing to talk. And though it's not his money you're after, your need for justice wants his dark deeds to come to light.

Admittedly, you struggle with the idea once you actually open your mouth to tell Dave. It's there on the tip of your tongue, but a deep-seated loyalty bars the way for your words to exit. You hate that you can't be the type of petty everyone thinks you should be, but neither does the good citizen in you dare to show herself.

'My ex-husband is involved in illegal doings, please raid his place of business' just doesn't sit right with you.

"What is it?" Dave asks, sensing something is on your mind. The thoughtfulness of his gaze nearly makes you melt. His touch rests softly on your upper arm.

Everything previous thought buzzes through your brain on repeat, a mental coin flips but you don't let it land.

"It's just been a lot to deal with today," you explain tiredly, your hand resting on his on your arm. Dave's touch tenses slightly before taking it away. "This is all going to be worth it. You're doing the right thing," he reiterates.

You tell yourself that as you leave the office, your paperwork signed and ready to go. Of course you're doing the right thing. That's why you feel so shitty.

You can tell Javier's been served when a never-ending procession of gifts arrives at your home. You don't know how he got your new address, but the gesture of flower arrangements, stuffed animals, boxes of jewelry, and Shari's Berries (which you end up eating a few of just because they're delicious).

He doesn't bombard you with texts or calls, but leaves notes along with his gifts. His chicken-scratch handwriting barely legibly asking you to come back, to reconcile, to please stop the divorce process because you're breaking his heart.

If you were a weaker woman you would cave in easily, but you refuse to move the line you've drawn in the sand. You give away his gifts, make mini bouquets with the gorgeous flowers he sends and you give them away to your customers. The jewelry is the only stuff you give back, knowing its value is worth far more than the others.

Only when you're alone at night do you start to have second thoughts. The days keep you busy, revolving around your business, your family, the activities you never really got to enjoy while you were Javier's wife.

But when you curl up onto the left side of the bed as if awaiting someone else to fill the opposite side, and when you accidentally make enough food for two instead of just one, you realize being single is an adjustment, and it's taking you a little longer to get used to.

The mediation that follows is quicker than you'd expected. Neither of you want any of the other's business profits. Though Javier's club is more lucrative than your little bookstore/bakery, you take great pride in it being your own income.

Across the table in a small meeting room in Dave's law office, you are keenly aware of Javier's eyes on you, as if he's mentally willing you to look his way, to sway your opinion, to change your mind. What if he pulls some Jedi mind trick and gets you to rip up the papers and go back to him, rewind everything you've done and sit in a purgatory of your own making while he does whatever pleases him?

And damn it he looks good. His hair is neatly styled, forgoing the usual messy curls and longer sideburns. He looks like he could be the opposing counsel. And he knows it, the way he returns your glance, a dare within his dark gaze.

"So it's come to this," he says, fingers drumming on the table. You recognize that habit: he's dying for a cigarette. He's just as anxious about losing you as you are about losing him. And then you wonder if he's wondering if you've told on him, given the authorities the info that would grant a search warrant and risk putting his ass away for years.

It's quite a powerful thing to see him try to hide his relief when the meeting comes to an end and he realizes he's safe. Because of your mercy.

Next to you, Dave is a grounding presence, a gentle reassurance that you're doing the right thing for yourself, your sanity, and your broken heart.

Afterwards, even with the formalities out of the way Javier still has the gall to go to you, take your arm, try to bring you to a secluded corner near the elevator bank. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Dave, waiting, as if looking for a signal from you that you need him.

"You're really ending us, mi corazon?" Javier whispers, his lips close to your ear, his wisp of breath sending a little shock to your system.

"Javi, this was a long time coming," you extricate yourself from his grip.

"C'mon.. you can't forgive a one-time thing?"

"Are you an idiot or do you just have selective memory?" you huff. "That was far from the first time.. you were never faithful to me. And I deserve better."

"Baby," he grasps your arm once more as you try to leave. "I'm a shithead. I know, baby. But I need you. Only you can make me better."

You recognize his pleas from the notes he sent with the gifts. The man could never be faulted as a writer, but it's sad that he can't even learn new pickup lines.

"Oh Javi.." you cup his face and for a moment he looks hopeful. The woodsy scent of his aftershave lingers, reminding you of mornings you shared as a couple. "If I didn't make you better in all our time together then I must not be the miracle worker you think I am."

Walking away from him feels good, freeing. Dave is at your side as you step into the elevator, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, gesturing you in like the gentleman he is as you walk away from your very first love.

Dave has meetings the rest of the day, but he treats you to dinner at an Italian place he thinks you'll like, a celebration of putting the finishing touches on your divorce.

Valentina's is the kind of restaurant that has an old-fashioned feel. Red and white checkered tablecloths adorn the tabletop and Frank Sinatra songs play over the speakers. You and Dave are given a booth near the back, somewhat private with a good view of the rest of the place.

And there it is again, his hand resting on your lower back, the heat of him pressing through your black and white polka-dot dress.

"Are we celebrating something today?" the waiter asks in a thick accent. He's around your dad's age, pleasantly plump, attired in a crisp maitre'd outfit.

"No," you answer immediately. "Well.. yes."

"First date?" the man guesses, and you and Dave glance at each other, color rushing to your faces.

"No," he answers. "We're celebrating her divorce."

The maitre'd smirks. "She is divorced, and now you get to be with her, yes?"

The look on Dave's face and the particular shade of red that he blushes is going to stay on your mind for awhile. Especially when he speaks to the maitre'd in Italian, quick and musical in his low, soft voice.

"What did you tell him?" you ask with curiosity, leaning forward with your chin resting on your hand.

He pauses, obviously taking in the sight of you. "I told him your heart is broken and I'm doing the best I can to fix it." Another pause as he sips some water. "Because you're my client, of course."

That doesn't stop the waiter from coming back with a small vase of roses and baby's breath to decorate your table after he takes your order, presenting the wine Dave suggested with a flourish, pouring both your glasses with the ruby liquid.

"I'm guessing you didn't learn Italian in law school," you say slyly, taking a sip of wine.

"I like languages," he admits with a smile.

"You'll have to teach me some."

"I will," he nods. "If you keep me on retainer." A conniving little smirk curls the corners of his mouth upwards and for one insane moment you wonder how he would taste right now if you kissed him.

"How many women have you done?" you ask, then realize how wrong it came out. "I mean, how many female clients have you had?"

Despite your embarrassment, Dave answers honestly, without poking fun. "Women tend to hire female lawyers, and men tend to hire men. I guess it's about strength in numbers.. but to answer your question, not many. Why? Do you think you won't use me again?" he feigns a little worried look.

"Funny," you chuckle. "Do I get a discount if I've used your services before? Some kind of punch card? My fifth divorce is free?"

"The only way you'll have a fifth divorce is if you marry and divorce that idiot over and over."

"Of course," you play along. "But what if we're just like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton?"

"At least they had the sense to only marry twice."

Dave leaves to take a business call and you're left alone for a moment. You catch snippets of the song playing over the general ambience. "Just One of Those Things" by Ella Fitzgerald plays, the lyrics drawing your attention: 'a trip to the moon on gossamer wings'. It somehow perfectly describes your marriage to Javier..

When your food comes your mouth can't help watering. Dave returns soon after, apologizing for leaving you so long, though it was only a few minutes.

A few tables away a man with his date gets down on one knee and proposes. When the woman says yes the restaurant bursts into applause. You and Dave clap, smiling politely at the happy couple. You wish you could feel the joy they feel. Instead, nostalgia washes over you in a sickening wave.

"Javier proposed to me at Olive Garden," you tell Dave, who's digging into his veal parmigiana. He raises his brow, shaking his head.

"There's nothing really wrong with Olive Garden."

"I had to talk him out of Buffalo Wild Wings first."

"Oh."

He only met the man a few moments back at the office, but he has a good idea of the man you thought you married. You were young and impressionable, he was suave and mysterious. There was nothing for you but to fall madly in what you thought was love.

"I don't like him," Dave says. "I didn't like him the minute he walked through the door."

Something about the way he says it warms you, not only because he's on your side, but because the damsel-in-distress part of you loves having a champion. "You have better judgment than I did all those years ago.."

He smiles tenderly. "You can't blame yourself for the choices you made when you were too young to know better."

"Well.. how do some people get it right the first time? Why did it work out with you and your wife, but not for me and Javier?"

Dave doesn't know how to answer at first, sipping the wine in the crystal glass before him. He glances down at his gold wedding band, wishing he could be blatantly honest with you and tell you he and Carol have their own issues and every day seems to feel like an uphill battle, but right now it's more important to him to give you faith.

"It wasn't always perfect. We've gone through our share of problems," he admits. "And I know you probably see me as someone in the business of tearing families apart. Which I do, most of the time," he adds with a grimace. "But I've also learned what not to do. When I go home at night after a long day of court appearances, mediations, mountains of paperwork, I'm just glad to be with my family. My work helps me appreciate them more."

You manage a small smile. If he can persist, so can you. And he's around such negativity all day. You have your books and your sweets and so you expect life to always be so simple. "I think I look for the good in people, even when it's not there. Either I'm stupid or simple."

"You're neither." His hand is on your forearm, a gesture of comfort. "One day you'll fall in love again and it'll be even better the second time around. Because it'll be the real thing," he adds.

There's something incredibly special about this moment, one of the few times you feel okay with going a little beyond the bounds of a client-attorney relationship. But the moment ends abruptly when the waiter sends a couple of violinists to serenade you during what is in no uncertain terms, not a date.

You'd like to believe Dave. You'd like to think you still possess an unfulfilled 'happily ever after' for yourself, locked away for just the right person. But you're alone in your home, with no one to greet you or ask how your day was. Admittedly, the world feels less warm now that you're apart, gone your separate ways, your transactional relationship over.

It's not just that. The whole world has changed, modified itself to grow away from you, leaving you like a plant in darkness. Love songs aren't about you anymore. You can't relate to their brightness, only mourn it.

Javier was the first person you ever fell in love with. You have no idea that the bigger challenge will not be falling out of love with him, but falling in love with yourself.

dividers by @strangergraphics & @saradika-graphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal @sunnytuliptime

@mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk @almostfoxglove

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647 @milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

@misstokyo7love @ppascalq

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bruh-anator3000 · 5 months ago

Text

im obsessed with the Black Cat, I hope that's clear, too. and Miguel. And Logan and Wade, so what if we mashed them all up in a blender and see what happens?

Edit: I didn't mean for this one to get so out of hand, but it did, so its a short story now I guess.

Warnings: sexual themes, hella suggestive, SPOILERS HINTED from the new Deadpool, tension sexy styles, I might get Gambit '97 involved so we can listen to '4 big guys' for part two, it is a love triangle/square, trust and don't worry. Everyone's bisexual. No pronouns for reader used, but written w fem!reader in mind, that's why I'm saying bisexual, but this could just be gay for my amabs.

Parinings: Black Cat!reader x Miguel O'Hara x Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson (uh-huh. I said what I said)

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Like, you didn't want to bring your roommates along with you for this heist. God. You didn't even want their sticky fingers on the paper plans. But you were running low on rent, Blind Al was a bitch now that they suspended her coke supply, and your normal crew got sick!

Dr. Boris Korpse was the smartest man alive. He could hack any system, jimmy any lock, and blew the ones he couldn't up. Bruno wasn't the brightest, but he was the bravest. And he had the muscles to prove it. He was a great getaway driver, too. And they were sick.

Wade was smart... enough. Logan was... decently strong. Logan was more of a brute, actually. Careless with his strength when it came to it, but trusting Wade Wilson to drive you home safe? With his self destructive streak? It was safer to have him do the code cracking. Hopefully.

"I wonder how many people caught the earlier exposition is from the actual comics," Wade grunted under his mask, typing in a special security code into the keypad.

Looking around with furrowed brows, he did realize it was just you three, right? You glanced at Logan, wondering if he understood what Deadpool was saying. He only gave a slight shake of his head.

"It's a quick in and out," You reminded the two, walking past the gates as the hissed open, thanks to Wilson. How he knew the password so easily, you didn't know. He said something about 'writer being too lazy to build up to the reveal,' which made it 'easier to follow if he just knew.'

Logan grunted as he followed. It frightened you how well he could retain the plans you've gone over so many times this week. It was great for him, and for you! But also sucked, because they guy replacing your 'smart guy' still needed a refresher.

You take your stance beside the large bars hiding the painting. Idly looking around while Logan let out a primal roar as he pried the gap between the metal bars wider.

"I bet that's what it sounds like when you're close, huh?" Wade snickered, pinching the yellow fabric on his hips. You cringed for several reasons. Wade's constant immaturity. And, God's above, Logan's ridiculous outfit.

Honoring the X-men or not, the yellow was as bright as a trafficlight.

You slipped through the widened gap now, ignoring Wade's whistle behind you. "You do realize this is supposed to be a silent mission?" You sneered, now on the other side of the enclosure.

Wade shrugged. "Don't worry, peaches. Nothing bad ever happens to the sexy ones. Logan might get left behind, but you and me?" His mask hid the way he bit his lip and winked. It looked like he was just staring at you.

"Alright." You sighed and moved on. That was the best way to handle these two. They gave you no other choice. I mean, you could give in and fuck them, but you were planning to save that for later if they did a good job tonight.

With the painting carefully removed, the bars bent back in place, and Wade managing to keep his pants on for a few minutes, all that was left to do was leave. You had Logan carry the painting as you all ran back to the World War 1 exhibit - the way you entered through.

You made sure the two were in front of you the entire time. You couldn't risk them getting lost, their bulk and dead brains might break something if you weren't watching them carefully. And the red and blue lights glowing as you ran past were not any help.

You stopped dead in your tracks. That wasn't your normal bisexual lighting. There were no sirens, either.

You jogged back a few paces, stopping by the archway of one of the many halls in the museum. Face to face with the digital glow of a blue and red mask.

"Hey Spider," Grinning softly, you leaned on the doorway. The Spider-Man hung upside-down on his red wire webs, per usual. You didn't need to see his sexy face to see that stoic pout he always wore.

"Good evening." He greets in that deep voice, hinting with an accent you loved. The red outlines of his eyes squinting as you boop his nose. "Are we really going to do this tonight?" He scowls, and you swoon.

He flips down, landing on his feet. Broad shoulders and thin waist beautifully extenuated by the suit that was more code than fabric. Towering over you, red blades on the back of his forearms.

"At least take your mask off," You taunt. To which he does. When has Miguel ever denied that request? As infuriating as it was, it was also a very freeing day when the two of you finally put the suits aside and fu- talked. In bed.

His brown curls looked neat today. Dark red eyes watching your every move. That pout on his sharp angled face was too cute. He was so grumpy all the time.

He glances behind you, leaning over slightly to look at the damage you've done. "Portrait of Madame X?" He notes the missing piece of work. Thick brow arching in suspicion.

You shrug. "She's an idol of mine." An idol worth 20 million to your buyer. But he didn't need to worry his pretty little head about the details.

"Do you want a 10 second head start?" He offers, placing a hand by your head and leaning in. Keeping you between his hard chest and the wall. His lips parted with a slight smirk.

"Bub, where'd you go?" Logan's gruff voice grows closer. Wade skipping alongside him. Both of them stopping dead in their tracks at the sight of Miguel.

His mask quickly ripples into place and he steps back, snarling. "Who are you?" His eyes dart to the painting you were supposed to be stealing, in some other man's hold. Keeping his body towards and more in between to block you from the other two, he snarls.

"I am soaking wet right now." Wade groans softly, admiring this little stand off. He wasn't kidding, Spider-Man had been in his 'hit' list for a few years now.

Miguel bristles, back going tense. And as great of a view that was, you knew it meant trouble.

"No, they're with me." Grabbing his broad and beefy shoulder, you push him back. Accidentally putting yourself in the middle of this odd triangle you've created.

Miguel glowers at you. "My regulars were out. I needed an extra hand." You shrug it off. That's all they were. Extra hands. In a heist. You totally weren't going to make out with them on the car ride home.

Tension thick, your shoulders weigh down as you look at all three of the men. A tinge of embarrassment hits you as you realize how similar their figures looked. You definitely had a type.

Wade breaks it up, or attempts to with another sentence you don't exactly understand. "Jesus, if the writer would get over themselves, I would fuck you two so hard." He gestures to Logan and Miguel. Earning an angry grunt from both of them that just seems to further his excitement.

"I'm so pissed we have to wait for a part two."

"Part two? Of what?" You raise a brow, looking at Wade.

He waves a hand. They don't get it.

...

But you do. And if you want a part two, please let me know! This was just an idea festering (that got out of hand a little) and I'm not sure what to make with it just yet. I also need a title for this, so if you guys have any suggestions, please let me know. Love you!

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anystalker707 · 1 year ago

Text

i need you [1/2]

Pairing: Crocodile x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: It's been a while since Crocodile last saw his partner, and they don't seem to be very happy. Tags: light angst / comfort / he's very sweet ok

oneshot for @gojo-mochi 's dilfcember event

MASTERLIST

PART TWO [AMAB READER VERSION]

PART TWO [AFAB READER VERSION]

“There you are,” Crocodile exhaled, raising his eyebrows lightly without trying to hide his expression of tiredness. He’d been telling you to come to greet him properly ever since he got back home, eyes narrowing at your form by a doorway when he decided he was a little too tired to chase you around and waste energy in the way; he knew it from experience. He took a long drag from the cigar, letting the smoke burn his lungs before he slowly blew it out through his mouth—the room had wide windows, thankfully, quickly dispersing the smoke. It was a price to pay to be around him.

Despite the warmth in Crocodile’s eyes, you still stood there quietly for a moment with a discomfort twisting in your chest while something heaved under your eyes. It’d been quite a while since you’d seen him properly, counting the times he only showed up for a few minutes a day or late at night to leave early in the morning. He sat behind that massive desk with piles of paper stacked on it, which was a familiar sight you’d missed.

“Come on.” He patted his thigh, eyebrows furrowing a little as he nodded in encouragement, and maybe you’d ignored things for long enough now. He straightened his posture on the wide armchair once you sat on his thigh, humming in appreciation.

“That’s my good one.” His hand ran up and down your back a couple of times before it settled down around your waist.

There were a few wanted papers and documents with the Marine stamp before him on his desk, and Crocodile didn’t bother to close the folder because he didn’t have anything to hide from you. Either way, you weren’t interested in it either, running your eyes over the desk while he talked. He had just come back, and the desk was already full of stuff that demanded attention, which was supposed to be yours.

“Now, now,” Crocodile exhaled and reached over to the ashtray. The bright red sparkles of the cigar’s tip extinguished against the bottom of the ashtray, turning gray like the remaining in there and serving as a base for the now discarded cigar. “What’s gotten my doll feeling all blue?”

Rough fingertips pressed to your jaw in a light touch and turned your face toward him, allowing Crocodile to study your expression through half-lidded eyes; worry mixed with intrigue lingering in his gaze. His thumb ran across your cheek a couple of times, index finger under your chin to tilt your head up. Despite all of that, your eyes still focused on the painting that hung on the wall behind his chair.

“What can I do for you, hm?” Crocodile’s deep voice had a caring tone in it that always made you melt a little bit, even more so with those loving touches. It was quiet in the room—his office was wide but crumpled, with lavish carpets and curtains, while his regarded book collection also took great space, neatly organized on the shelves along with some items and photographs.

Your eyes finally met Crocodile’s, and despite the way your heart fluttered, the discomfort twisted inside your chest again, so your eyes immediately fell to the table once more. Something heaved inside you, compelling you to curl up in Crocodile’s lap.

A few theories of what bothered you swirled in Crocodile’s head, but he wasn’t sure what to believe, so he opted not to conclude anything for now. With a soft sigh, he opted to go for what he usually did, to comfort you. His fingers gently played with your hair before he started massaging your scalp gently, eventually rubbing the back of your neck soothingly. He was about to say something, but the words died in his throat the moment you started relaxing in his arms.

That’s it, Crocodile mentally said, wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you closer to him while he rubbed circles into your back, letting your head rest against his chest. He did it for what felt like hours, and nothing ever felt like too much if it meant it was for you. All it brought was the relief to see you melt into his arms and slowly let go of whatever bothered you.

“My love,” he whispered, cupping your face to hold your head closer to his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of it, and what he received in response pleased him. Your hands gently gripped his pullover vest while you nuzzled into his chest.

Crocodile let the silence sink in for a moment, shoulders relaxing as he felt you comfortable in his arms until the soft sound of sniffling cut through the peaceful atmosphere. His lips pressed together in a frown as he caressed your hair a little longer before pulling away just enough to take a look at your face.

“My love, what’s wrong?” The back of Crocodile’s fingers ran along your cheeks to catch your tears, but they were soon dismissed when you pressed your face to his chest instead, wetting the soft yarn of his top with your tears, but he couldn’t even bring himself into worrying about that. “Dearest,” he exhaled softly, voice laced with frustration as his hand tightened around your waist as if to anchor you to him because it was everything he could do, silent with his thoughts as he offered you what he could for now.

Crocodile’s eyes fixed on the papers on the desk without really paying attention to them, just choosing them as a spot to rest his eyes on while he tried to sort out his thoughts, which wasn’t easy. All the stress from the past weeks clouded his thoughts in a way only you could help him go back to a peaceful state of mind, but for now, he fought through the sharp headache that attacked his temples to focus on you. You were more important, after all. What would be of him without you?

Something brought Crocodile back to reality, but your cries were too incoherent to be comprehensible. He blinked a couple of times and looked down at you, relaxing his brow and his jaw. “Yes, my love? Can you repeat that for me?”

“...you, hm? Where were you?” You sniffled a little bit, gulping. “Did you get tired of me? Did I do something wrong? Why would you—” Cut off by a sob, you just gave up on talking and let out a groan of frustration instead.

Now, it started making more sense. A soft breath escaped Crocodile’s nose as the realization slowly set in, and he brought a hand up to his face, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose and then ran his fingers along his eyebrows before his hand lowered to your cheek to tilt your head up. The sight of your teary eyes made his heart ache and guilt heave over his shoulders.

“Oh, dearest,” he breathed, shaking his head lightly. “I’m deeply sorry, you know how things can run out of control, and you also know that my love for you is never-ending. I would never think about leaving.” He adjusted you on his lap to kiss your forehead while wiping your tears away once more. “I long for you, but I also can’t involve you in problems either. I rather solve them first and then come back to m—”

“So what?” You sniffled, looking at him in the eyes. “So I have to suffer because you’re away? Sit and wait and…” You kept ranting, and Crocodile knew you didn’t mean it, he knew what spilled from your mouth resulted from the desperation of going so many days without him, from the hurt of the way your feelings and thoughts twisted during his absence, and he wished he’d been there before to comfort you before this mess had been created.

“I’m sorry, dearest,” Crocodile said softly, and he would try to talk and argue if you weren’t so caught up in emotions, so he just kissed your tears away, holding you close until the crying babbling turned into soft sobs, and you relaxed in his arms again.

There wasn’t a lot Crocodile could decipher in your muttering, but he could make out the whiny ‘I need you’ whispered next to his ear when your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You clung to him tightly, making his emotions waver in ways he wished they wouldn’t, but he accepted the vulnerability you caused him. Loving someone had a price, and he wasn’t afraid of paying it if it meant having you.

“I’m here,” Crocodile whispered as he gently ran his hand up and down your back until your back wasn’t shuddering with sobs anymore. “That’s it, dearest,” he whispered as his fingers massaged the back of your neck. “I’m here for you now, and I won’t be leaving soon.”

“I don’t want you to ever leave,” your weak whimpers were muffled against his shoulder, and Crocodile sighed.

“We can talk about it later,” he breathed, knowing it was better to discuss it when both of you had your emotions in order rather than make empty promises for a momentary peace. “Come on,” he said as he shifted a little to hold you in his arms properly so that he could stand up, breath hitching a little as he kept you against his chest on his way out of the office. His paperwork wasn’t as important as you were. “Let’s relax for now, how about that? Have you eaten anything today?”

Your arms were still loosely wrapped around Crocodile’s neck, one of them looser so that you could bury your face into the crook of it, inhaling his scent to calm yourself down. Hesitantly, you shook your head, taking in a deep breath to brace yourself for the inevitable disappointment that would come from him. Your stomach churned again just at the thought of food, but maybe things would be fine now.

There, however, was no disappointment in Crocodile’s hum as he changed his route to the kitchen. “Then we must eat first. We can also take a shower, then go to sleep. How about that, hm? Will that help my sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded with a weak hum, sighing as you closed your eyes and let the tension go of your muscles.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

PART TWO [AMAB READER VERSION]

PART TWO [AFAB READER VERSION]

#one piece #crocodile #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #gender neutral #crocodile x reader #crocodile x male reader #one piece x reader #imagine #oneshot #fan fic #fan fiction

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fishbonex · 6 months ago

Text

Ignorance: part 1/?

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You confess to Joel and are rejected.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: ANGST, mention of deaths, typical canon violence, end of the world, Jackson!Joel.

note: this story had already been posted before my blog was deleted and is also available on AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Ignoring the bad part of things was your favorite thing to do. It made you less sad and gave a false sense of normality in the destroyed and rotten reality you lived in. Not that Jackson was destroyed and rotten, but the world outside the gates was. So that's why you ignored everything, the spores, the cordyceps, the clickers, runners, lurkers, all of them. You did everything to escape being put on patrol, you wouldn't leave Jackson unless it was a matter of life and death. Your tasks in the community were taking care of the gardens, the stables and cleaning the community cafeteria.

It seems like a lot, but it's good for not looking idle and useless, it takes up your entire day and gives you a feeling of work accomplished and satisfaction at the end of the day, when you climb the few old wooden steps to the porch of your house. Those steps really need replacing, actually. If you stood still for more than a few minutes on top of them you ran the risk of falling. But you left that aside, you had something else in mind. In fact, you had one person in mind.

That almost completely gray-haired man, with a grey beard, robust, deep and serious voice, strong Texan accent. Joel Miller. You couldn't stand being around him for more than a few minutes, your heart was beating very quickly and you felt butterflies in your stomach. The man was Ellie's father, a girl a few years younger than you, she was a bit foul-mouthed but nice, you had already spoken to her a few times.

You held your breath from the first time you saw him in the community a year ago, and it's never been the same since. Whenever you passed him on the streets you held an idiotic sigh, you felt like a teenager for acting like that, but you couldn't help it. The man had your heart in his hands and you couldn't do anything to get it back.

Some people in Jackson spoke badly about Joel behind his back, saying he was a surly, violent man who had a lot of mood swings. One of your few friends, Emily, said the same thing when you mentioned Joel to her, but you ignored it. It wasn't like he was that bad, it should just be that the hard years he lived outside the gates were taking a toll on him, but you were sure he was a good person.

You said this to Emily, but she reiterated that Joel was an extremely violent and bad-tempered man who had done terrible things in the outside world. You chuckled and said 'and who hasn't done terrible things out there?'. Emily sighed and the conversation ended there

Holidays in Jackson were celebrated without fail, especially the most famous ones, like Christmas and New Year, but Maria began to innovate and encourage other things, like spring food festivals, Mother's Day, and Valentine's Day. It seemed strange to celebrate Valentine's Day at the end of the world, but the young people in the community seemed to get excited, you included, so hearts and pink things were hung on the doors of the houses and some lights were painted pink too, in the community bar.

Oh, one thing that wasn't mentioned: your house was almost opposite Joel's house. A coincidence. You took advantage of the Valentine's Day arrangements and picked up some decorations to hang in your house, a medium pink paper heart was glued, and next to it two small red hearts. You pulled away and smiled widely as you looked at the minimal decorations that gave some life to the almost colorless landscape.

You heard heavy footsteps trampling the snow and turned to see the man himself, shotgun slung over his shoulders, backpack on his back and a tired expression on his face. Joel looked directly at your door, then looked at you and shook his head and turned to enter his own without saying anything.

You let out an excited squeal along with other women whenever someone confessed to their loved one or handed over a hastily made card. The number of these events had been increasing since the community was dressed up for the holiday. You couldn't wait to do the same, you had already planned everything, you had handmade a card for Joel, it wasn't pink or red, he didn't seem to like those things very much. It was a nice card that could be used to decorate his room, or something like that, if he didn't actually have a room.

You wouldn't do that in front of everyone, you knew Joel was an older and reserved man, he didn't seem to like attention. You didn't know his schedule, you only saw him occasionally passing home at dusk, so that's what you did: you sat on your sofa below the window and waited until Joel passed by. As soon as he appeared in your field of vision with the same thick beige jacket, the same shotgun slung over his shoulder, the same worn brown backpack and the same heavy boots you stood up and took a deep breath. She watched until he entered the house and closed the door, then took the card from the coffee table and put on his coat, opened the door and took the few steps it took until he arrived at Joel's house.

The card you had prepared was made of yellow paper, folded in half, it had a bee drawn with your best artistic gifts and right below it there was the phrase 'Bee mine?' in large black letters. You let out a giggle through your nose and walked up the few steps to Joel's house, knocked on the door softly and waited.

You didn't notice, but the window curtain moved to open a tiny crack, where Joel peeked out. A few seconds later the door opened and you caught your breath. There he was, he looked tired and you felt bad for going to talk to him at this time. Shaking your head slightly, you were about to start speaking, but before you could open your mouth, Joel spoke:

"May I help you?" the hoarse voice spoke.

"Oh, good night." you said shyly after a few minutes. "I... I wanted to, uhm–"

"Listen, young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I just got here and I'm tired." he continued.

You swallowed hard and took the card from behind your back, holding it towards him.

"I-I was hoping to talk, but you're tired, so... here it is, I made it for you." you waved the card but he didn't move to take it. "It's for Valentine's Day."

Your stomach was churning, his expression didn't look very good, he looked very seriously at you, then looked at the card.

"You can take it, it’s for you–” you tried to extend the card to him again.

"I'm sorry, but, did you really think this was a good idea, girl?" the tone of voice was rude now. "Coming over to my house like that and handing me a piece of paper?"

"I– uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." you swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wanted to give the card I made."

"And why do you want to give me this bullshit so much?"

You had your face lowered but you looked up, slightly wide-eyed at his aggressive sentence, consumed by a wave of angry courage you blurted out:

"I really like you."

"What?" he said mockingly after a few seconds. "Do you really like me?"

"Yes." you answered bravely, still feeling the lump in your throat. "I– I really like you, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

Joel stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying you, then let out a light nasal laugh and said:

"I'm old enough to be your father, girl. Go home and don't bother me again, you seem like the pushy type."

"Listen, please, I've loved you for a long time–"

"What are you talking about, stupid girl?" he looked very angry now, his brow was furrowed and his nostrils were flared. "Love? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If you give me a chance to–"

"Go home, I told you." he said. "There's no chance of that, or anything else, I don't want anything to do with someone like you, understand? Don't bother me anymore."

Then he went back inside and slammed the door in your face.

You knew very early and came home very late to avoid laying eyes on Joel. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored the warnings about him after all, but he was still present in your heart. You shoved the card deep into your dresser, you were embarrassed to look at it now.

Ironically, now that you wanted to be more busy you had less work, winter had arrived and the ground was frozen, so the garden was at a standstill. So you dedicated yourself to the horses and cleaning the mess hall, returning home at almost the same time as always.

You hadn't told Emily what you were going to do and you hadn't told her about the rejection either, she was going to throw it in your face that she had warned you. You felt so stupid now, how could you have thought you had a chance? So much self-esteem.

The days passed quickly and you were thankful for that, but it wasn't like you forgot what happened. Your first interaction with Joel since the incident was when you were cleaning the cafeteria to close, it was already dark and it was practically empty. Mopping the floor repeatedly and sighing every now and then, you didn't see him walk through the large doors.

"Are you guys finishing early?" the thick Texan accent spoke from behind you and you froze momentarily, then turned to him with an effort of blank expression.

"This week, yes, we are down one person." you replied and went back to mopping the floor.

"Okay, thanks." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking outside again, and you let out a sharp breath.

The universe seemed to make fun of you and a few days later you had your next interaction with Joel.

Someone covered you in cleaning the cafeteria, so you used the free time to try to fix the rotten steps on your porch. As you repeatedly hammered the nails into place, you felt a poke on your shoulder and stopped your movements, feeling your stomach turn in knots when you saw Joel behind you.

"Can I help you?" you asked, standing up and brushing the snow and dirt off your knees.

"Do you realize it's already night? I need to go out on patrol tomorrow and you're making too much noise." he said rudely.

"Right. I'm sorry." You turned around and started picking up the tools you used, holding them against your chest and seeing the best way to climb without falling.

You had only fixed one of the steps, the one closest to the ground, so you climbed up on it and stretched your leg to try to climb over the others, but the new step wasn't securely fastened and you slipped, letting out a pathetic little scream.

You heard footsteps approaching and his arms lifting you off the ground quickly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joel's deep voice asked and you glanced at him sideways.

"I'm fine, thank you." you replied and saw him come closer to rest his hand on the small of your back. "Don't touch me." you exclaimed.

"I just wanted to see if you were hurt." he took a few steps back, looking embarrassed.

"I am well, thank you." you responded quickly and walked away from him, picking up the materials you used earlier again.

You balanced yourself and took a little jump to the porch, entered and closed the door.

#writing #writers on tumblr #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader angst #joel x reader angst

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mandalhoerian · 7 days ago

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I love your analysis on Rafayel, I thought there was something wrong with me not understanding his card! If it's not too much to ask, can you break down his final dialogue? I don't get his point. why is he suddenly bringing up love when this has been about art? Isn't he saying that the love he feels is also bringing him pain, isn't this a bad thing😅 Is it just me 😅 I feel crazy... You can ignore this if you want no hard feelings

the said analysis on intertidal zone for people who haven't seen it!

first of all, please don't be hard on yourself for not understanding, you're okay! this was me too. i got you!

"i once stubbornly believed only pain could bring me inspiration. I traveled far and wide in search of it. Pain that inspires me, I mean. Like a sea that's about to dry up. The art of creation is part of my life. You made me realize love and art are so alike. Even if they don't complete me but burn me instead, I still want them with every fiber of my being."

but before i can explain this fully, I want to go take a few steps back and go into what he previously revealed. I swear it makes sense to start from the beginning, trust me. spoiler alert, I've discovered something you guys. (@pasdenomadonner you can put this on reddit too if you'd like!!)

"actually i was here last time for an exhibit and i found myself in the same situation."

this could refer to either his fever, or his lack of inspiration, or both. the next line confirms that he was going through creative block, though -> "as far as i know, this is the longest time my mind's been like a blank sheet of paper."

and mc says, "you mean you can't draw?"

I totally missed this before & thought it was a tangent that came out of nowhere. But what Rafayel did is that, without words, showing her that he was in fact able to fix his inspiration issue the last time. This isn't a random reveal that the ocean and desert painting belonged to him all this time. It says that his trip to here fixed his creative block and the piece he made from the inspiration he got from Aridum made it to the memorial hall. He's saying, "No no, I could draw."

He's come here again for guaranteed inspiration hit. He's basically saying his trip here didn't work this time around and this isn't doing anything for him, despite the tragedy all around him.

Do you know what this means? STAY WITH ME NOW, STAY WITH ME.

because this ties DIRECTLY to him saying "i stubbornly believed only pain could give me inspiration" -- so, if only pain gives him inspiration, why can't he draw now? why is his mind blank? Is he not getting his inspiration from pain anymore? What will he do now, then? THAT'S what he's struggling with.

NOW we can dive into the rest of the final dialogue.

1. “The art of creation is part of my life.”

This line sets the stage. Rafayel isn’t just saying art is important to him, it’s essential. Not a hobby. Art isn’t just a thing he does, it’s who he is.

What he’s really saying here is: “Art is a core part of my identity. Without it, I’m not me.”

2. “You made me realize love and art are so alike.”

Here’s the pivot. It's so confusing at first glance because you expect him to elaborate in "What way?" But I believe Rafayel is setting the stage to make a direct comparison between art--this thing he just declared essential to his life--and love not just by commenting on their similarities but by implying that love (MC) is just as essential as art.

Think about what this means for someone like Rafayel:

Art has always been his way of processing the world, expressing himself, and finding meaning. It’s his lifeline.

By comparing love to art, he’s saying that MC has brought something into his life that feels equally vital, equally irreplaceable.

He’s realizing that MC, like art, isn’t just something that happens to him--it’s something he needs.

3. “Even if they don’t complete me but burn me instead...”

This is where it gets personal and raw. Rafayel doesn’t see art or love as things that “fix” him or make him whole. Instead, he sees them as forces that challenge him, consume him, and demand something from him.

“Burn me instead”: The idea of burning here isn’t necessarily negative, perhaps. It’s could be about intensity and being consuming. Both art and love push Rafayel to his limits, force him to confront himself, and sometimes hurt him in the process. But he’s okay with that. The burn isn’t a deterrent--it’s a part of what makes these things so meaningful to him.

In essence, he’s saying: Even if art and love aren’t easy, even if they don’t make me feel whole or safe, I still want them. I still need them.

4. “I still want them with every fiber of my being.”

This line drives the point home, circling back to how he said they were "alike". Rafayel isn’t just tolerating the burn--he’s choosing it. He wants art and love, not because they’re perfect or painless, but because they’re what give his life meaning. Remember his "Addictive Pain" anectode? I don't think he dislikes this kind of "pain" but MC isn't in a place to understand what he means yet is my takeaway.

YEAH?. YEAH. I'M DOING LAPS IN MY ROOM HE'S SO. HE'S SOOOOOO. AND I'M SO SLOW, I DIDN'T GET ALL OF UNTIL LATER, LIKE HOW THE LAST TIME HE WAS ABLE TO BE INSPIRED BY ARIDUM DURING CREATIVE BLOCK BUT NOT ANYMORE. "Why is he bringing up love all of a sudden. Weren't we just talking about art?" was such a raw connection he was trying to pull and it flew right over my head.

And understanding the burning thing quite literally I imagine, LIKE I WAS DOING, MC is like

he's such a tortured artist

anyway. I hope I was able to help, anon. It's thanks to you I went in and discovered these new things. Why is it always Rafayel. I feel like local tumblrina discovering media literacy for the first time, I swear I'm good at consuming media it's him making things difficult (even though me personally I've made my peace with having a peanut for a brain that runs on brainrot)

#love and deepspace #rafayel #lads #lads rafayel #rafayel qi #qi yu #rafayel lads #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #intertidal zone #fandom: lads

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thestraybunny · 8 days ago

Text

I (do)n't need you Pt. 1

Pairing: Joshua Hongx AFAB!Reader WC: 8.7k Genre: Non-Idol AU, Exes to lovers Rating: M (18+, MDNI) Warnings: Angst, Eventual Smut, Drinking, Shit Communication, Fluff

Summary: Inspired by 2 minus 1 by Vernon and Joshua. It's been seven months since you and Joshua broke up, and you are still convincing yourselves that you don't need each other.

A/N: This is the first installment of my Seventeen K-Series, and my first fic where SVT is the main focus. This has also been posted on AO3. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think. Part two posted.

Th3.Litt1e.D0e made a new post.

Even though Joshua rolled his eyes when he looked down at his phone, no longer paying attention to the pretty little thing in front of him, he still opened the Instagram feed to see what you posted. Maybe this time, since there was a potential hook up in front of him, when he looked at your post it won’t mean anything. Maybe this time, he won’t want you like he used to.

Fat chance at that when he saw the photo of you with a new kitten, and a guy he had never seen before. While your focus was on the small black kitten in your arms while the guy was looking at you like you hung the moon. He used to looked at you like that at one point.

You really moved on already. He hated that this caused not only an uncomfortable burn in his chest, but his brain going to wondering what you were doing now. Probably with that guy.

“You in there?” The squeaky voice of the girl he had started to ignore for your post brought him back to reality and away from thoughts of you. She was a pretty one too. Silky long black hair that fell over her shoulders, soft make-up and without the harsh liner that you used to sport, and she was in a dress that made her look even more stunning. Her painted lips were pulled into a frown and Joshua had to move his phone from her view when she went to look at his screen.

“Yeah, fine. Just a text, but it’s not important right now. You are.” He was quick to lie, slipping his phone into his pocket as a flirtatious smirk graced his lips. Leaning back against the bar on his elbow, he turns his attention to the woman in front of him. With every intentions on taking her home with him.

To show he’s fine without you. And he doesn’t need you.

Th3.Litt1e.D0e added to their story.

Joshua was quick to flip his phone, now with the screen facing down, so Vernon could not see the notification. It took everything in him to not open it right then to look. Likely another photo of you and that guy. Or another annoying photo of the black kitten you named Felix. A kitten this guy likely got you, and Joshua knew you were flaunting it to show him you were okay without him, just like how he is okay without you.

He was okay without you. He didn’t need to throw himself into his music, work, or going out every weekend to find someone to get over you with. You didn’t take up his every waking thought anymore.

He also was terrible about lying to himself and those around him.

“Dude, just unfollow her and block her. She ain’t worth it.” Vernon spoke up and the older man had to look at his younger friend in surprise. He thought he turned his phone quick enough so he couldn’t see, but Vernon was quicker to notice. “She’s moved on and is with someone new. You’re just torturing yourself at this point.”

“I’m not torturing myself,” Joshua muttered, not making any motion to do what Vernon had suggested. Instead he just turned his attention to the guitar that was in his lap. “I told you, I am over her, but we agreed to stay friends. I mean, we were best friends before this.”

“That’s just something we say to make the breakup not hurt as much, but in reality, you just make it harder to move on. Besides when was the last time she messaged you or even liked one of your posts? Seems to me that you were the only one who is ‘staying friends’.” The younger man took a drink of his Americano before turning his attention to the pen and paper in front of him. “Or at least channel this into song writing, because we got to get this done. Hyung will have our heads if we don’t finish this. He wants to get this to the artists asap.”

Joshua bit his tongue from snapping at the younger man, but he knew Vernon was right. He only was making this harder, while you did the right thing by breaking contact. Instead of the talk helping, Joshua didn’t take the advice to unfollow and block you. No, instead, it made him wonder if you unfollowed him and really was doing the smart thing, which is move on.

But Joshua was still convinced that he didn’t feel anything for you. He didn’t need you, he didn’t need to think about you. He even ignored the ding that came through, knowing it was you making another post.

**eight months ago **

“Joshua, stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you squealed as his hands tickled your sides, your hands playfully swatting him away. Your laughter mixed with his like music to his ears, the way the soft notes of your laugh were a melody of happiness. Happiness he brings out of you, and happiness that you brought out of him.

“Say you surrender.” He laughs, finding that one spot that made you near jump off the couch by surprise, but he was able to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you closer. You didn’t have to say it though as he stops tickling you to just look at you, his eyes not leaving your face as your arms snaked around his neck.

“I surrender…” You whisper still, and his lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss. He relished in the way you felt against him, before pulling away to look you deep in your eyes.

“I love you…” Joshua answered in a whisper, before his lips pressed against yours again; taking in the smell of your sweet perfume. Hoping that moments like this start overtaking the bad.

You hated yourself for thinking about him while Minjun was right across from you, talking animatedly about his day with his fingers lightly tracing circles into your palm. It tickled and you wanted to pull your hand away, but you had to stop yourself. Instead, you leaned your chin on the palm of your hand as you tried to keep up with his stories, none of which are registering since your thoughts were not on the sweet man before you.

No, they were on Hong Jisoo… Joshua. Wondering what he was doing, if he was okay, and if he found someone else. The last thought broke your already broken heart more, but you were a hypocrite if you wanted anything other than him to be happy with someone else. Especially when you were sitting across Minjun, someone you recently started seeing regularly. Your first attempt at a relationship after the breakup.

“What you think?” Minjun asks and you looked at him with confusion. Missing that whatever he was talking about included you, or he was trying to include you.

“Think about what?” You had to ask, feeling a little foolish that you didn’t listen to what he was saying, switching the hand he was tracing to hold his. You give him a sweet smile as you forced yourself to pay attention. “Sorry, baby, what were you saying.”

“You and your flighty mind.” Minjun teased, and you caught the way the smile was tight, telling you he was annoyed but was trying to not show it. Your mind was always somewhere else, well on someone else, and he’s dubbed it as you having a ‘flighty mind’. It was more backhanded than anything, but you chose to ignore it. “Would you like to go with me Saturday night for Seongjun-ah’s birthday? Meet my friends?”

“Oh,” You couldn’t keep the hesitation in your voice obvious, straightening your back as you looked at him. You two been seeing each other for the last two months, and he has already met your friends, but there was something about meeting his friends that made it more serious. Except, that’s the whole point in dating him, because you were serious about him. Meeting each other’s friends, and possibly family eventually, came with it. Forcing a huge smile on your face and was happy that he didn’t hear how forced your excitement was, “Of course, I would love to! I can’t wait to meet your friends. So, what time Saturday night?”

“Dinner is at eight, but we are all meeting for drinks at seven.” Minjun’s smile changed to one to match his own excitement and pulls your hand up to kiss the palm. Something that Joshua used to do. With the way he held your hand up, you had a perfect view of your smart watch, and the screen lit up. Showing a notification you should turn off.

Shu_acoustic made a post.

You weren’t supposed to still need him. You weren’t supposed to miss him. But you did.

**Seven months ago**

“What the fuck Josh?!” You yell, trying not to cry as another fight broke out between the two of you. This time it was over you breaking plans for work, a job with a debuting K-pop group that will keep you working for the next few months. Another makeup artists had to drop out due to a family emergency and would not be back for a while, so you jumped at this opportunity. “You said yourself that I shouldn’t decline these opportunities when they come to me. It’s been really hard for me to find work lately.”

“You’ve bailed on me several times over the last few weeks, and it’s always conveniently happening when we have plans.” Joshua shot back, his brows furrowed, and his lips turned downward into a frown. His hands were clenched at his sides before pushing one through his dark hair. “You spend more time at work or with Kami, and Ruby more than your own fucking boyfriend.”

“Rich for you to say. What about all those times when you’re stuck at the studio and don’t come home until late? Or when you choose to go hang out with your friends, or go get drunk with them instead of spending time with me?” Tears were now starting to fall as you felt your chest hurt and it only intensifies when he speaks again.

“Oh, so I can’t have friends now?” What the fuck?

“Of course, you can have fucking friends! You brought up my friends so why can’t I bring up yours?” You knew you shouldn’t be stooping to his level, but you were, and he looks away. “You are such a fucking hypocrite bringing up my friends like that when you chose yours over me constantly. There are nights I am home fucking alone while you are out with them. And not once do I hear from you either unless I literally spam text you, or one of the guys asking if you’re okay.”

“That’s not tru—”

“Twelves times out of thirteen, I get a message back from one of the guys and not you. I already know they don’t fucking like me anymore, thinking I am some clingy bitch who has to know your location at all times.” It has been a known secret for quite some time that his friends no longer liked you, you could tell by the way they would respond to your text or even talk to you when you were around them; especially Jeonghan, Joshua’s best friend. You didn’t know what you did, but it was right when you and Joshua started having problems. Where neither of you could go more than a day without arguing, and those days started to outweigh the good. “It’s like you don’t even like me anymore either…”

“Feelings fucking mutual.” His words sharp, and with that he took off out of your apartment and left you crying on the couch.

Hours later, you became a single woman when you thought he was calling to talk things out. Instead, he said that both of you being together wasn’t working and that you were better off as friends. You could only agree before ending the phone call… so he could go out with his friends while you cried yourself asleep.

Shu_acoustic added to their story.

Normally, you could avoid looking at his story, but something compelled you to open it this time. Figured instead of just ignoring the notification, you would just look since you are a masochist.

Your heart sinks.

It’s a photo of him from the previous night, surrounded by his large group of friends and his arm around a woman. He is laughing at something she said and their faces close together. They looked happy.

She was absolutely beautiful, petite, short brown hair, and looked like she could be a model even though she was wearing jeans and his hoodie. His hoodie.

You felt like your chest was going to cave in, and your throat restricted any of your breathing. Tears were hot in your eyes, and you had to chastise yourself for even looking in the first place. Closing out of his story before the next photo popped up, all you wanted was to throw up and scream how you’re such a hypocrite.

You posted Minjun several times over the last two months, and Joshua never unfollowed you after the breakup, so he had to of seen your posts with the other man. Did it bother him seeing Minjun in your photos? Then again, he was the one who broke up with you, so it was very likely he wasn’t. He didn’t actually care.

So, you shouldn’t either.

It shouldn’t have bothered you either when the moment you closed his story you were hit with a new post on his Instagram. It was the same setting as the story, this time they both were sitting back and his arm still over her shoulder, heads tilted together with a smile. It was one of several, but you didn’t look further.

The caption was simple. ‘Hoshi vomited in the bushes’. Normally this would make you snort and roll your eyes, but your eyes were on the comments. Two of them. One from Jeonghan and the other from an account that was tagged in the post.

Haniy00_n: ‘Oh, you are making it official official.’

You did cry when you read the comment from the tagged account. Not wanting to believe what you were reading.

Mix3djellyjam: ‘Right? Only took him nine months to come to his senses.’

You broke up seven months prior. And the fighting got worse around that time, as did Joshua spending less time with you. It all made sense.

You never hit the unfollow and block button faster. Scolding yourself for breaking down over him, especially when you had a new boyfriend, but you felt your heart break all over again.

“Why did you post that comment?” Joshua asked Jeonghan annoyed, looking down at his phone before back to his best friend. Yoon Jeonghan continued to scroll through his socials, and didn’t even look toward Joshua. “You are encouraging her, and I made it clear, I wasn’t wanting anything serious.”

“You don’t post the girl you’re fucking if not one of two things. One,” Jeonghan still didn’t look in Joshua’s direction, just lifted up a finger, “You are serious, and you are making your claim, or two,” He puts up two fingers as he finally looks toward him. “You are trying to show someone that her flaunting her new victim all over her socials isn’t bothering you cause you moved on.”

“You can stop being a dick about her now. And don’t call him a victim. He’s her boyfriend.”

“Same thing.” Jeonghan waved him off. “The point is, you wouldn’t have posted Yoojin if it wasn’t one of those two things. Or even both.”

“That’s not why I posted her.”

“Then why did you Josh?”

“Because…” Joshua couldn’t continue because he didn’t have an answer. Maybe a part of him wanted you to see it, to show you that he was doing okay, but that wasn’t the full reason he posted. Yoojin was not anyone special, just a friend who kept him company instead of random girls every week, so he wasn’t posting to make anything official.

“Because what?” Jeonghan leaned toward Joshua, waiting for a response but when he didn’t receive on he only tutted and sat back. “I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know…” Joshua muttered as he looked down his hand that was holding his phone, not noticing the notification that came in after Jeonghan’s, and this earned another tut. “Maybe a part of me wanted her to see it, maybe a part of me wanted her to know that I am okay too, but I know that I didn’t make anything official. Yoojin is a friend, and I was posting photos with friends.”

“You don’t post those kind of photos of just a friend.” Jeonghan answered, and he snorted when he saw Yoojin’s response. “Nine months huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about nine months?” Joshua asked, looking at him confused.

“Only took him nine months to come to his senses.” Jeonghan read out loud and Joshua’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped. He opened his phone quickly to pull up the post. His best friend continued to laugh, and Joshua shook his head. “Didn’t you guys break up like seven months ago? If Yoojin was the real reason you wanted to break up with her then it took you a while to finally get to it. I take it you didn’t want her as a rebound?

Joshua only muttered that Jeonghan was an asshole and was quick to delete the entire post; every part of him hoped you didn’t see it. You hadn’t posted anything that day, so he wasn’t sure if you’ve even been on, but very much hoped. It was a mistake to post anything, and he could only hope that you didn’t see it. He didn’t know why he cared so much. You had moved on and was posting your boyfriend for the world to see, he shouldn’t care if you saw it, he shouldn’t be racked with guilt for posting something that was supposed to be fun pictures from a night out.

But he was. He regretted posting anything with Yoojin as he texted her telling her that he couldn’t see her if she was going to start problems with you and going to lie about how long they had been talking. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond and blocked her on everything.

It was too late though. You clearly seen the post, with your account no longer in his following list. Nor would it come up if he tried to search for you. You had blocked him.

Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this is what he needed to show himself that he didn’t need you.

**six months ago**

You decided it was best to stop responding to his texts and keep a distance. They weren’t a lot of them, just a check in every few days, but after a month you couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of acting like you were okay and not hurting. You hated lying to him even after he broke your heart, and here you were lying through your teeth with every response.

You played it off as a natural thing, you were busy with work, and after a week, his texts stop coming too.

When Minjun’s friend’s birthday came up, you played the part for Minjun, the smitten girlfriend that he couldn’t stop gushing over. You smiled and laughed at his and his friends jokes and did you best to look at him like he hung the moon. Maybe if you made it believable for everyone else, you can make it believable for yourself.

It didn’t work for you, but it seemed to have worked on everyone else. No one could tell you were hurting inside, no one could tell you didn’t want to be there, and more so they couldn’t tell that your thoughts were still filled with Joshua. You kept telling yourself you don’t need him, and that he was happy now with someone else.

And at least Minjun’s friends liked you.

After dinner, the group all decided on going to a bar or club to continue the night, but you were quick to decline. Not sure if you will be able to keep up the act if you started to drink more. Plus, the bar they would go to was where Joshua and his friends always went to on weekends, or whenever they could.

“I’ll go with you.” Minjun offered, holding onto your hand but you shook your head to decline.

“You go have fun with your friends. We aren’t far from my place anyways, so I can walk.” You tell him, giving him a quick peck on his lips. Funny how you told him to go do one of the things that you’ve fought with Joshua over, one of the things that led to your breakup. The difference is that you knew what you had with Minjun was not what you had with Joshua.

“Are you su…”

“Go. I’m getting a small headache anyways, and a walk will help clear my head.” You cut him off before pushing him in the direction of his friends, you give him a reassuring smile and give him a wave. “Text me later so I know you got home okay.”

“Sure thing, sweetie.” Then he was off with his friends, leaving you to watch him leave. A relief rushing over you because you can let down some of the guard, the smile falling from your face. Your jaw and cheeks hurt from forcing the smile, but it was a relief to no longer have to any longer.

The weather was starting to cool down, and this particular night there was a breeze to help keep you centered as you walked. It also helped keep your mind clear and any thoughts of Joshua started to slip away, giving you the briefest moment of freedom. Your heart still ached but for once your mind felt free.

If only you were so lucky it would stay that way.

You didn’t see him when you walked past, you were looking to the ground as you counted the cracks in the sidewalk. There was not many, these streets were well taken care of, so you ended up creating ones with your imagination. You may not have seen him, but he saw you.

So, when you heard your name being called, your heart stopped as did your whole body. You hadn’t heard that voice in so long, avoiding any videos where he was talking in them, and hid away all the videos with him in it. You sure as hell haven’t heard your name come from him in so long. It was clear as day, and right behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around. You didn’t need him.

But you did.

He wasn’t interested in going out that night, in the first time in months, he didn’t want to go out with his friends to take things off his mind. His heart wasn’t into it, he just wanted to vegetate on the couch and watch something. Aimlessly check his Instagram to see if you unblocked him, or even see if you responded to a message to talk. One that remained undelivered.

You didn’t want him to contact you, and he was going to have to respect that, but it doesn’t stop him from checking. Even though it was Jeonghan’s birthday, his best friend had given him the free pass to not go out. He was witnessed to how bad he had reacted over the whole post situation, making sure it was known that he thought Joshua was overreacting over this while thing.

It was Seokmin who had convinced him to go out, whining that he needed his hyung with him to take care of Soonyoung when he got too wasted. Joshua told him just ask Mingyu or Seungkwan, but the younger man was able to convince him. Mostly with the promise of buying him most of his drinks that night as well as his ride home.

He left his place late, after finally pulling himself together to get ready. He did only the minimal amount of effort too, his hair falling down in a messy style. When it came to clothes, he threw on a pair of brown sweats, a plain white t-shirt, and a tanned cardigan. He was planning to throw Soonyoung into a taxi the moment he could to send him home and go home to do what he wanted to do. Sulk.

When you walked past him, he thought he was seeing things, stopping in his tracks. Your head was down but he knew it was you. How could he not? You had a pull to him that he couldn’t get free of, and he was losing his mind more that he no longer had that one link to you. A small part of him told him to just keep walking, and that you blocked him for a reason, that he needed to respect your boundaries. But this might be his only chance to set things right.

Your name left his lips before he could stop himself, and the way you froze told him that you weren’t expecting to run into him. It was like time stopped, both of you standing not saying a word and for a moment Joshua was sure you were going to run from him. Instead, after what felt like the longest minute of his life, you turned to face him.

It was like someone doused him with cold water while simultaneously sending cannons of butterflies through his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into a hug after not seeing you for so long, but he wasn’t stupid enough to miss that you looked like you wanted to cry and wanted to get as far away from him as possible. But he had to try.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you out.” He spoke and all you did was stare at him. You were still as beautiful as ever, but your hair was in a new style and there was sadness to your eyes. When you didn’t answer, he continued. “It’s…It’s nice to see you.”

You still didn’t answer, but you also didn’t walk away.

“Are you walking home?” You nod, and he tried to offer a sincere smile, not wanting to hide his eagerness to maybe get a moment with you. “How about I walk you? Or maybe we can get some coffee? I really would like to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a while, and I think you may have misunderstood some things. I want to clear the air.” He answers nervously, his mouth feeling dry as he waited for your response. All you could do was stand there though, the only thing you saying was when you asked why. “It’s about that girl in the photos.”

“It doesn’t matter, Joshua,” You tell him flatly, but he knew you were lying. Your face may remain stoic, but your eyes gave away everything. Like they normally did. “There is nothing to talk about. You’re just mad cause she gave you away.”

“I didn’t even know she was interested in me until a few weeks ago. I don’t know why she even said that to begin with. I promise you.” Joshua just blurted out, moving closer to you so that the conversation could not include everyone walking by. You just stood there staring at him like you didn’t believe a thing he said. “She had nothing to do with our breakup. So, please, can we talk?”

“Was that what you wanted to tell me?” You ask.

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Goodbye Joshua.” You turn to walk away, and he suddenly felt desperate to not let you go, his hand reaching for your wrist to stop you.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he should just let you go. It was over, and he needed to leave it well enough alone. He didn’t need you to not walk away.

**Two years ago**

“Move over,” You smacked his knee so he can give you room on the couch, and he almost looked offended. Then Joshua slapped his knee to indicate that it was your seat.

“You can sit right here,” He joked, not even trying to hide his obvious interest in you, and it was obvious you felt the same, but neither of you really made any moves toward each other besides harmless flirting.

“Move Josh,” You tell him again, feeling your skin hot from his flirting. He sighed and acted like he was going to move but instead he grabbed your wrist to pull you into his lap. Not thinking through how hard you’d drop down, letting out a small groan before recuperating to snake his arm around your waist. Keeping you there. “You idiot! Are you okay?”

“Maybe should have adjusted myself before doing this, but I’m okay,” He answers honestly, and you rolled your eyes. “See comfortable.”

You stopped wiggling for a moment when you realized how close you two were, your eyes dropping down to his soft plump lips briefly. Flicking your eyes back up to his, you had a look that hoped he didn’t notice the way you were looking at him. But he had.

The two of you had been friends since you moved to Seoul, meeting each other through Jeonghan (of all people) after joining the same music company they both worked for. You as a makeup artist for idols and the two men were songwriters and guide singers. He was someone you could speak English with, even though you were fluent in Korean, and a foreigner like you.

You both bonded over love of music, anime, movies, and so much more. Quickly becoming close, with him always seeking you out when he could, but you found yourself doing the same. It wasn’t long until you both were spending time with each other outside of work, and he quickly became your best friend. You let your guards down with each other, telling each other secrets that no one else knew, and you never felt closer to anyone the way you did with him.

At first it was obvious to everyone but you that your friendship was something more, and it took the help of his friends, Mingyu and Wonwoo, for Joshua to realize he liked you more than a friend. It was you who took longer, even though you actually knew from the moment you met him that you liked him. You just didn’t want to ruin one of the few friendships you had in a foreign country.

“Can I kiss you?” You didn’t recognize this voice of his, breathless and husky, his own eyes watching you with intent. Your hands moved over his shoulders to snake around his neck. He was closer now, if either of you leaned in, you would be kissing. “Please.”

“If you do, I don’t think I will be able to stop,” You whisper back, and you could feel a smile spread across those beautiful lips. “I won’t ever want to stop.”

“Then let’s never stop.” It was enough for you to be the one to kiss him. And you were right.

You didn’t ever want to stop.

You didn’t know why you didn’t rip your hand away and told him to leave you alone, but you didn’t. Instead you stared down at the way his hand clasped so easily around your wrist, holding onto you like if he let go, you would disappear on him again. Feeling the desperation in his stare beat at you, you couldn’t look up, you were scared that you would break completely if you do.

“Please,” He said your name again, but nothing further than that, anything else he had to say lost in his throat. Joshua wasn’t wanting to let you walk away.

“I have a boyfriend…” The words leaving your lips didn’t feel right, it felt wrong, but it was true. Minjun was your boyfriend, you been dating him seriously enough for him to have that title. So, why did saying it to Joshua feel like acid on your tongue? Sounding more of a lie then the truth.

“Just let me walk you home.” This time you looked at him, those eyes you would stare at for hours filled with the same desperation in his hold on your wrist. You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have said yes either.

But you did.

And now you were walking beside him in silence, your arms wrapped around your waist, and he didn’t reach for you again. Respecting your space, but you could tell he wanted to say something, but every time you see him open his mouth from the corner of your eyes, he would close it a second later. There was a time that neither of you had to hold back with your words, talking freely about anything and everything, but here you were both not saying a word.

“Thank you,” It was you who spoke, causing him to look at you in surprise. It took you by surprise as well, stopping to look at him. “Thank you for walking me home, you obviously didn’t have to, but it’s appreciated none the less.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, I offered anyways. Plus, it’s been a while.” Joshua gave you a smile that still melted your heart and nearly brought tears to your eyes. You watched the way his eyes crinkled and squinted as the smile spread, the one that you missed being directed toward you. One that you used to get before you broke up.

You shouldn’t miss that smile anymore. But you did.

“I didn’t break up with you for anyone. I want to tell you that again, there wasn’t anyone else.” He continued to speak, and there was a tight ache in your chest when he says that. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to hear this, or if this just made it worse. “Yoojin was just an acquaintance that Seungkwan was trying to get at but got bored with. I never showed any interest in her until recently, and even then it wasn’t anything.”

“Why are you needing to justify?” You ask, and he looks at you wide eye and jaw slacked. Not expecting the question. “It’s been seven months. What does it matter now?”

“Because I know it bothered you,” With this statement, you had to look away, neither of you realized you had stopped walking again until then. “You blocked me after it was posted.”

“How did you know I saw her comment? Maybe I just forgot to do it before?” This made him laugh.

“You’re just made because she gave you away.” He repeated and you could only pull a face, you forgot you said that.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Josh. We both moved on.” You lied through your teeth, “Thank you for clearing things up, it was not needed but thank you. It’s good to know you aren’t a cheater. I’ll finish the way home by myself.” You didn’t know why you said the next thing, especially when hurt flashed across his eyes. “I would say it was nice to see you, but it wasn’t. Goodbye once more, Joshua.”

You were quick to turn and walk away.

“You can’t lie to me.” He said suddenly and you stopped again. “You always been terrible at lying to me, and it seems like it hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, well, you always been good at lying to me.” You retort, knowing it wasn’t the least bit true, and before he could say anything more, you took off down the street to your apartment. Ignoring the feeling in your chest.

You’re over him. You’re doing good without him.

You’re the liar.

Th3.Litt1e.D0e started following you.

Joshua nearly dropped his phone when those words appeared, sitting up from his couch as he swiped on the notification to go to Instagram. He had to see if he saw that right, and that his drunk eyes were not playing tricks on him.

He ended up going and meeting the guys at the bar after you stormed off, just like he promised Seokmin, but there was a cloud over his mood nearly the entire time. Especially when he saw the guy in your photos on the other side with a group of his friends, all laughing and drinking heavily. It made him have a harder time concentrating on the conversations in front of him, and he even ended up being scolded by both Seungcheol and Mingyu for staring off into space.

Only he wasn’t, he was watching your boyfriend, watching as his eyes roamed over the girls that past like they were pieces of meat. He wanted to go up and say something but didn’t no matter how much it bothered him. He had to be reminded what you had said and that made him stop. That and Jihoon would not let him. The younger man was the only one who remained empathetic over everything but had to remind him that it wasn’t his business.

He was the only one Joshua told about running into you, and the shorter man listened carefully.

“She’s not your problem anymore,” He was reminded, “I know it’s fucked up sounding, but she’s not. That’s not your business. He’s also just looking, it’s not like he has his tongue down some other girl’s throat. Let it go, Hyung.”

Joshua left not long after that, not bothering to listen to the whines of the other’s. He was drunk, frustrated, and that ache in his chest was worse then it had been in months. It was like he broke his own heart over again.

He kept telling himself that he should have just kept walking, that he shouldn’t have stopped when he saw you. He should have let you walk away. He should just move on.

And he sure had hell shouldn’t get hope from just a stupid notification.

But he did.

**Nine months ago**

“It’s her again. Joshua will you fucking answer your girlfriend?” Seongcheol sighed, checking his phone., “Tell her you’ll call her in the morning or something.”

“She knows where I am at. She knows who I am with. I don’t get why she is even texting any of you.” Joshua sighed as Seongcheol went to answer you, and he could see the annoyance playing on the eldest of the groups face. Joshua didn’t care though, he just turned his attention back to Jeonghan, ignoring his phone for the fifth time. “I told her she doesn’t need to be messaging you guys.”

“If she has work and she’s waiting up for you, then I don’t blame her for checking in. Especially when you’re ignoring her.” Jeonghan pointed out before tossing another piece of BBQ into his mouth. “It is three in the morning, and she’s probably waiting up. Didn’t you say that you were going to her place after this?”

“Not if she keeps messaging you guys. She knows I’ll be there when I’ll be there.” Joshua shrugged, popping some meat in his mouth too as Seongcheol tossed a few more pieces of meat onto the grill between the three men. “It’s not like I don’t have the code to get in or anything. She doesn’t need to be waiting up.”

“You’re a dick.” Seongcheol told him as he sends his response to you. “What happened? We used to have to pry the phone from you or even get you to stay out longer with us. You used to want to rush home to her. Now, you just stay out until you can’t anymore.”

It wasn’t that he wanted to stay away from you, he wanted to so badly to go home to you. The fighting had gotten worse over the last few months, everything you both did upset the other, and it was hard for him to be around you. There was a time when you would be able to work out any argument, talk things through and be okay after. Now, all they did was turn into screaming matches until you have to get away from each other.

Sometimes he would leave and stay out so long that you would be blowing up his phone with worry, and it only would cause another fight. He didn’t know what to say to make things better when all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms. Hold you as he begged for forgiveness. That he never wants to lose you, and he hates fighting with you. He wanted to keep making you happy and wanted to stop hurting you with needless fighting. You don’t deserve how he’s been treating you.

You didn’t need to be treated like this. You needed to be treated like you deserved, not like this. And he was failing at it.

Lee Jihoon Calling.

That was not a name you were expecting to see when your phone lit up. You only kept a few numbers when Joshua broke up with you, Jihoon’s being one of the since you had worked with him on his solo music concept and had been on decent/professional terms. You’ve had to work with him once after the breakup and he was kind enough not to bring up Joshua or anything to do with him. It was never his business to begin with.

So him calling at nearly eleven at night was something that you weren’t expecting.

“Hello?” You answer, not even thinking that it could have been Joshua calling you with Jihoon’s phone.

“This is as strange for me as it is for you.” He says right off the bat, not even bothering with hello’s, and took the words right out of your mouth.

“I would say yes. Is there a reason you are calling?” You were confused by his call, but he hadn’t brought Joshua up before, so maybe there was another reason for him to be calling.

“I don’t have long. The guys think I am making a call to my girl and will come searching for me.” He started and you took a seat at your small kitchen table, “This isn’t my business, and if anyone asks, I am going to deny I ever called you, and this was a misdial, but Josh-Hyung left not too long ago.”

“He’s not coming over here is he?” You ask, with a hitch in your words, looking toward your front door. Not sure if you were hoping it was true or not.

“Nah, he went home. Good thing, he might’ve done something stupid right now.” There was a dry chuckle, one that had no humor to it. It sounded more like he was having to keep from getting mad. “I know he wasn’t the best of boyfriends toward the end but damn your taste has sure gone to shit.”

“I would expect a call like this from Jeonghan, or one of the other guys. Didn’t think you would be one to want to call to be a dick.” You couldn’t believe your ears and was starting to get offended by his comment; a fresh set of tears threatening to fall. “I knew the others didn’t like me, but I didn’t think you were one of them. It’s been seven months, why can’t it be left well enough alone?”

“Hey, none of us didn’t like you, we just didn’t like seeing our friend hurting. None of us are assholes enough to openly fuck with you or not like you. You didn’t give us a reason to.” Jihoon didn’t waver in his voice, staying calm despite your own tone changing.

“Then why are you calling me about my taste in men?”

“Because the guy you’re dating is a pretty damn good actor. Hyung may have gone out a lot, but never once did he ever look toward another girl when with you. Nor would he allow any of us to say what his friends were saying about you, nor did he ever agree or egg us on. Hell, he still won’t allow anyone to say anything negative about you.” Jihoon was not someone who got into other people’s business, and there was only two occurrences that you heard of him stepping in and you were never told what they were about. “Hyung isn’t the confrontational type, you know this, and he would not be able to be held back if he was here.”

“What was said?” You could tell he was hesitant to say anything. “You called me for a reason, so tell me.”

“I called you because I am tired of seeing Hyung be a shell of himself. He won’t admit he needs you still, and you are with some asshole who will let his friends call you an emotionalist fake.” He then told you what was said. They saw through the façade you tried to play off, that it was noticeable. They made cracks that the real you was likely as interesting as a wet blanket, that he was doing charity by giving you a chance, and that you’re as desperate as you are clueless. That he will have an easier time cheating on you then his last girlfriend. Jihoon didn’t sound too happy about what was said, and sounded bothered by them. “Hell, I almost had half a mind to say something, because I know perfectly well that none of that is true.”

“How do you know?”

“I may not know you very well, but I know enough. You were the best damn thing to happen to Hyung, and he wouldn’t still be heartbroken and regretting breaking up with you if you were. He wouldn’t be lying to himself and everyone around you if he wasn’t needing you like he does.” There was something to the younger man’s tone that dug into your chest.

Jihoon was not the type to lie, he was not the type to cause problems for the sake of being an asshole. Jihoon didn’t give away his friend’s business, even if you were part of that business, for the sake of gossip or drama. Jihoon was not the type to meddle into others’ relationships, nor does he try to fix one that was broken.

Joshua still needed you. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t need him, but you did.

**Seven months ago**

Joshua regretted it the moment he hung up with you, and wanted to call you back to tell you he didn’t mean it. But he couldn’t. The damage was done. You were no longer his and he was at fault for it. He didn’t think it was going to hurt as much as it did.

“This hasn’t been working for a while, we fight more days then we don’t.” The words were like acid when they left his lips, not believing for a single moment that you guys weren’t working out. He could fix this if he tried hard enough, but instead he was the giving up. “I think we should breakup.”

“Oh.” You didn’t fight his words, you didn’t argue with him. Instead you sounded…broken, and Joshua knew he was making a mistake, but the words were already said and damage irreversible.

“I’d like to stay friends.” He couldn’t stop himself from digging the knife in deeper, looking down at Mingyu and Wonwoo’s coffee table, adjusting the phone from one ear to the other. He had four sets of eyes on him, and it was making him wish he could just get off the phone to jump out the window. “Despite us not working out as a couple, I still want you in my life.”

He could only hope that she didn’t hear the collective groan that rippled through the living room, fingers pushing nervously though his hair.

“I completely understand, and yeah, we can totally still be friends.” There was a crack in your voice but disguised it as a cough. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah…” He said, wanting to world to suck him up and a tear escaped down his face. “It is.”

It wasn’t what he wanted. It was the exact opposite of what he really wanted. He wanted this to work. He didn’t want anything else. You were it for him.

After your phone call with Jihoon, you could only sit there in your kitchen as you stared at the clock above your refrigerator. The call ended at exactly eleven o'five pm, and when you finally came back to reality from your thoughts, it was well after midnight. Blinking a few times, you found that your lashes were wet as were your cheeks, and your mouth felt dry.

Before you could really even process your next actions, you already had sent out a text to Minjun breaking up with him, letting him know that this wet blanket had friends who saved her from his bullshit. You then blocked him while unblocking Joshua at the same time, even though you should’ve leave him where he was. You did the same with Instagram and going to his page.

Then you hit the follow button. Letting him know he wasn’t blocked anymore.

You couldn’t keep pretending anymore. There was no pretending anymore.

Shu_acoustic started following you.

Shu_acoustic: Hey.

He didn’t even bother caring how eager he was, following you back or sending you a message. He didn’t care the reason you unblocked him. Just that you did, and that you answered back.

Th3.Litt1e.D0e: Hey Shu_acoustic: You unblocked me. Did you get home safe? Th3.Litt1e.D0e: Yeah I did. Th3.Litt1e.D0e: Are you home? Shu_acoustic: Yeah. I wasn’t having a good time, and Seokmin has ten others to help him with Soonyoung.

Joshua, without thinking, flipped to your Instagram page, to see that you had posted a few photos of your cat, but that was not what caught his eyes. It was that all photos with your new boyfriend were gone. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he had seen it right.

Where the hell did they go?? What happened in the few hour span from you walking away from him to this?

Th3.Litt1e.D0e: It’s Jeonghan’s birthday is it not? You always have a good time with him. Shu_acoustic: Not always. And it wasn’t him. Just had too much on my mind to enjoy myself. Shu_acoustic: Rather be home then bring down the mood. Th3.Litt1e.D0e: That sucks. I’m sorry. Shu_acoustic: What happened to the pictures with your boyfriend? Th3.Litt1e.D0e: I broke up with him.

He didn’t expect that response and wondered what happened. You never deleted the photos with him after you broke up. Even after blocking him.

Th3.Litt1e.D0e: I was wasting my time, and so was he. Th3.Litt1e.D0e: That and it turns out he’s a pretty damn good actor. Shu_acoustic: I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?

You didn’t respond, and Joshua did his best not to keep looking at his phone. Hoping that you would respond, but with what time it was, he was sure you must have fallen asleep. Instead of sitting around on his couch, he got up and started to get ready for bed. Washing his face, brushing his teeth, and changing from the clothes he was wearing to a pair of grey sweatpants and a black vest top.

Quickly flipping off his ceiling light, made his way over to his bed and plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand. Dropping down onto the soft mattress, Joshua ran his hand over his face with a sigh, starting to feel tired. His head barely hit the pillow when he got another message.

Th3.Litt1e.D0e: You up?

Of course, he was up.

Shu_acoustic: Yeah, getting ready for bed. What’s up? Th3.Litt1e.D0e: Did you really want this? Did you really want to break up?

No, he didn’t. He thought he did before he actually did it, but he didn’t want this. He wanted to work through this. He knew you both could. He needed both to.

Shu_acoustic: I wish every day to take it back and have another chance. Shu_acoustic: Why? Th3.Litt1e.D0e: Is it to late to come over?

His heart was pounding in his ears as he sat up, reading your Instagram message over and over.

Shu_acoustic: It’s never too late for you to come over. Shu_acoustic: Honestly, I need you to come over.

He did. He couldn’t keep saying he didn’t need you. He needed you more than anything.

PT 2 and 3 are written and already posted on AO3. They will be posted here in the next day or two. Please let me know what you think, and I guess if you wanna be on a tag list. I am still figuring this all out again.

#joshua x reader #thestraybunnyfics #svt fanfic #joshua fic #hong jisoo x reader #joshua hong x reader #seventeen x reader

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