#might do something like this again though lol
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helloooooo, your writing is amazingggggg and i was hoping it would be okay if i requested a shadowww x reader. Where Maybe sonic ask shadow to bring medicine to you (to try and introduce you to shadow as your sick with something or have a major injury, etc). Shadow prehaps is annoyed but agrees anyways, then however when he meets you sees maria in you. Then veryday to be sure you get better shows up in the morning to help take care of you, and slowly the two become friends then prehaps at the end share a kiss and become lovers? Idk it sounded cute in my head lol.
familiar
WARNING: Illness
PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Sick! Reader
NOTE: This is such a cute request and I'm pretty proud of this! Sending you all the love, and I hope this brightens your day a little! Take care of yourself <333
SUMMARY: Shadow reluctantly delivers medicine to you at Sonic’s insistence, but upon meeting you, he’s struck by a haunting familiarity.
It was late afternoon when Shadow approached the house tucked away at the edge of the city, a small bag of medicine clutched in his gloved hand. The only reason he was here, he reminded himself, was because Sonic had all but begged him to.
“Come on, Shadow,” Sonic had said earlier, exasperated but hopeful. “They’re too sick to go anywhere, and I’m tied up with something. Just drop it off and say hi. You might even like them!”
Shadow had scoffed at that. “Highly unlikely.”
Yet here he was, standing at your door. He knocked, sharp and deliberate, and waited.
A muffled voice from inside called, “Coming!”
The door creaked open, revealing you. Despite the exhaustion evident in your eyes and the pallor of your complexion, you greeted him with a weak but genuine smile.
“Oh, you must be… Shadow?” you asked hesitantly.
He nodded curtly, holding out the medicine. “Sonic sent me. He thought you might need this.”
You accepted the bag with a quiet “thank you,” looking up at him with an expression so open, so trusting, that it stopped him in his tracks. For a fleeting moment, he was no longer standing at your doorstep but aboard the ARK, looking into the kind eyes of someone he thought he’d lost forever.
Maria.
The resemblance wasn’t physical, but there was something about your demeanor—gentle, unassuming, and kind despite the pain you were clearly in—that tugged at a memory buried deep in his chest.
“You okay?” you asked, noticing his prolonged silence.
He blinked, snapping himself out of the moment. “Fine. Just… don’t forget to take the medicine.”
You chuckled lightly, the sound hoarse but pleasant. “I won’t. Thanks again, Shadow.”
He nodded again, turning on his heel and disappearing into the fading daylight.
To Shadow’s own surprise, he returned the next morning.
It had been a restless night. Thoughts of Maria swirled in his mind, but they mingled with the image of your weary yet kind face. He told himself he was simply being thorough, ensuring you were following the instructions for the medication.
When you opened the door again, wrapped in a blanket and looking just as surprised as you were grateful, Shadow felt the smallest pang of relief.
“You’re back,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.
“You didn’t seem capable of taking care of yourself yesterday,” he replied bluntly, though there was no malice in his tone.
You laughed softly. “Fair enough.”
It became a routine. Every morning, Shadow arrived with something—soup, tea, a fresh supply of tissues—and checked on you. At first, his visits were brief and businesslike. He would make sure you had what you needed and leave with little more than a nod. But as the days passed, the conversations grew longer.
You learned to expect his dry wit and sharp observations, and he found himself oddly drawn to your quiet resilience. Despite how miserable you felt, you always thanked him sincerely, your gratitude genuine and unassuming.
“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said one morning as he set a cup of tea on your bedside table.
“I know,” he replied simply, sitting in the chair he’d claimed as his own.
“Then why?”
He hesitated, his crimson eyes flicking to the floor. “You…” he paused, looking back at you with a sigh. “I don’t know.”
You didn’t press him, sensing the weight of his words, but your soft “Okay, thank you.” carried more meaning than either of you acknowledged.
By the time you were well enough to venture outside again, the bond between you and Shadow was undeniable.
“You don’t have to come by anymore,” you said one evening as he walked you back to your door after a short outing. “But… I’d miss you if you didn’t.”
He paused, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something vulnerable.
“I’d miss you too,” he admitted, the words slow but sincere.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened, and for the first time since you’d met him, Shadow looked genuinely flustered.
“Thank you, Shadow,” you whispered. “For everything.”
His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, a rare and precious sight. “I... You’re welcome.”
And from that moment on, his visits were no longer about ensuring your recovery—they were about seeing you.
#shadow the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog x reader#shadow the hedgehog fanfic#shadow x reader#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#sonic fanfiction#x reader#ask#fanfic#request#oneshot
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Peppermint Kiss
Plot: When you take the advice of Minghao's friends to force him to look at your friendship differently, you accidentally initiate a game of cat and mouse.
Pairing: Xu Minghao | The8 x Gn!Reader (Friends to Lovers)
Warnings: Stalking mentioned once as a passive joke.
A/n's: I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I honestly had no ideas going into this, just a very vague idea of wanting to use mistletoe and peppermint. So this is what came from that lol I did end up rewriting the entire second half because I didn't like the first version and was getting major writers block. So, I hope you like this, I'm not sure I do. I couldn't get it out in a way I wanted. Thats what I get for not coming up with an actual plot before I had to write it.
Words: ~2.8k
You and Minghao had a thing, not a situation-ship, as there was nothing actually going on between you. But there was definitely something there. What it might become and when, you had no idea.
He flirted, you flirted back, he was snarky, you were snarky back, someone insulted you, he insulted them tenfold. When you were hurt or alone, he was there. When he was angry or upset, he came to you to find peace.
You were two different sides to the same coin, two different locks on the same door. Always close, but never more.
It was obvious to you that you had feelings for Minghao, but you kept them to yourself. Because it was also obvious that Minghao didn't know how he felt about you.
If he thought about it for longer than a few moments he might put it together, but would he? You wouldn't hold your breath.
He didn't think relationships were an important part of his life. And he already had you by his side, why change that? Even if that change came with perks, like dates, cuddling, kissing, se- well, you know, perks.
When you brought up your thoughts to Jun and Wonwoo, Minghao's closest friends, they told you to make him think about it.
"What? Like confess? Or confront him?"
They shook their heads in unison, "No, no, no. That would just make him panic and ruin it in the moment. No, make him think he's losing you."
"Losing me?"
"Yeah. I mean, honestly at this point I'm surprised he hasn't" Wonwoo said. "I see how much it hurts you the longer this goes on Y/n."
You pouted at this, and Jun gently smacked your arm, "Stop hanging around him so much. Put space between you to make him see what he is blind to up close."
You nodded along with him, "I guess I could stop hanging out with him. Though won't the other guys notice too. I mean, we usually all hang out together."
"We'll tell them."
"Tell them! No, no-"
Wonwoo put his hand up to stop you, "They already know how you feel. And they know Minghao is an idiot for not seeing it and not making a move yet."
"They all know. Great." You sighed as you threw yourself back onto Wonwoo's bed.
He sighed softly, "Is there a reason we're having this conversation in my room?"
Throwing his own pillow at him, you sat up, "Okay, so, I'll distance myself. We had plans to go see a movie tomorrow, should I cancel?"
They nodded and you let out a sigh, "Isn't this a bit mean though-"
"Just do it!"
"Okay okay, damn." You gave in, having no other options at this point.
And that was how this game of cat and mouse started, and honestly, you weren't sure how it was going to end.
You cancelled on Minghao, he was fine. You cancelled again, he was annoyed but got over it. You cancelled a third time, and he finally started to pay more attention.
It seemed that he would only see you when the others were around, and even then, you kept your distance from him. Avoided being alone with him, sat around the others so there was no space to him next to you. At first, he thought you were hiding something from him, but then he realized, you were just not hanging out with him.
Fine.
He wasn't sure what was going on, and you weren't gonna tell him. If you didn't want to hang out with him, he'd make you.
Going to get food with Joshua and Dokyeom? What a coincidence, he showed up too!
Hanging out with another friend group at the mall? "Hey Y/n, who’s that guy staring at you from across the store?"
You didn't think avoiding Minghao would cause him to stalk you out of vengeance, but it was what you were dealing with now.
"What am I supposed to do now?" You whined, once again messing up Wonwoo's bed as you flailed dramatically.
"I knew he would react, but not like this. He really is attached to you."
"But not in the way they want." Jun noted slyly, and you kicked him in the shin, earning a halfhearted 'Ow' in response.
"Maybe we should add in some jealousy." Jun suggested and you frowned.
"How?"
"Go on a date."
"Huh?!" You and Wonwoo looked at Jun as if he had three eyes.
"Oookay, then tell him you have a date and see what that does."
You grimaced, "What if he wants details? What am I supposed to do, make someone up? The only guys I know are you-"
"What about Jeonghan's friend that asked you out a few weeks ago?"
"Who- Oh." You had forgotten about him.
Hyungwon, he was handsome, seemed nice too. You ended up meeting at a get together and he asked you out afterwards.
You thought about it for a moment before you shook your head. "No, Hyungwon's too nice to use him like that."
Jun sighed, "You're right." He sat forward a bit, "Okay how about this then. We have a party or something and invite Hyungwon and some other guy friends and hope that one or some of them flirt with you. That should be enough to make Minghao jealous."
You shared a look with Wonwoo who shrugged. You let out a soft sigh, "Okay, I guess."
You nervously sat in the corner of the couch, in between Mingyu and Hyungwon. After rejecting Hyungwon before, you really didn't expect him to speak to you again, but here he was.
He was nice, and very handsome, but he was not Minghao. You were having a casual conversation with him and Mingyu, unaware of the eyes staring daggers into Hyungwon from across the room.
'He's too close'
Minghao sipped at his drink as he stared at the man in annoyance.
He had heard from Jun a few days prior, that Hyungwon had asked you out once already, and you rejected him. But that obviously didn't deter him.
And when Jun told him Hyungwon agreed to come this time, he followed it up with a comment he knew would get Minghao's brain turning, in hopefully the right direction.
"Who knows, maybe Y/n will say yes this time."
That comment, that one comment, made Minghao realize a lot of things he should have had a long time ago.
No one was good enough for you, not even him, but he sure as hell wouldn't allow you to be with anyone but him. Because you were his person. Why hadn't he realized it before?
It was the reason he was so torn up about you avoiding him, about you choosing to not be around him. It was why he became so unhinged in his determination to follow you around. Not having you in his life drove him crazy.
He never had any interest in dating, because he already had you, he didn't need someone else. He didn't go on dates because the two of you went out together enough already. And hanging out with you felt so different than when he was with one of the guys. With you it felt...special. It already felt like dating, he just hadn’t made that connection.
The idea of you being with someone that wasn't him unsettled him. But was he too late?
The way you smiled at Hyungwon made him afraid he was. Would you ever see him as anything other than your best friend? Did you already? Was that why you were avoiding him?
"Careful, you might burn a hole in something staring that hard."
Mingho looked over at Jun who appeared at his side. Looking at you and Hyungwon, Jun repressed a smirk.
"Why don't you go interrupt if you're so upset they are hanging out?
"What?"
Jun rolled his eyes, "Come on, it’s not I can't tell you're jealous. It's pretty obvious actually."
Minghao sighed before he spoke under his breath, just loud enough for Jun to hear, "Why didn't I realize sooner?" He had been kicking himself for days now.
Jun shrugged, "Because part of you didn't want to ruin what you had. So, you blinded yourself to what was obvious. Including the fact that Y/n has felt the same all this time. The only difference is, they accepted their feelings."
Minghao turned towards Jun with a wide gaze and the man chuckled. "You were so blind you couldn't see that Y/n was waiting for you. But you took too long."
"I- they-" Jun just nodded and Minghao let out a shaky sigh as he looked back over at you, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.
Jun leaned in a bit to whisper hopefully the final encouraging words. "Better do something now before you're too late again."
Minghao felt his chest clench when you laughed at something Hyungwon said as you now sat alone with him, Mingyu having disappeared.
He swallowed as he set his drink aside, leaving Jun by himself as he made his way over to you, determination filling him.
Jun smiled brightly at the sight, before locking eyes with Wonwoo nearby who nodded at him and gave him a subtle thumbs up.
Looking over as you felt someone sit beside you, your heart leapt when you came face to face with Minghao.
He was staring at you with a faint smile before he looked over at Hyungwon. You could tell he was annoyed, and that alone gave you butterflies.
Hyungwon greeted him but received only a nod in reply. You cleared your throat, "You've met before, right?"
"Only briefly" Hyungwon said as he gave Minghao an awkward smile, feeling the tension coming from him immediately.
Minghao struck up a conversation with Hyungwon, his tone slow, as he pried into Hyungwon's life to make him uncomfortable. You were constantly giving him a side-eyed look, but he was ignoring you.
Hyungwon could clearly see Minghao was jealous, and from your reactions, he could tell Minghao was the reason you rejected him. So, he smiled and answered Minghao's questions, mostly to kill his boredom, but also for a little fun.
Feeling uncomfortable in your own skin as you sat between an interrogating Minghao, and an unphased Hyungwon, you grabbed a candy cane from the table and began unwrapping it, needed to do something with your hands to help relax your anxieties.
Minghao spared a look at you as you started sucking nervously on the candy cane. He clenched his fist as something in him seemed to stir. He really was affected by you in a way he hadn't noticed before.
When you removed the candy cane from your mouth to say something to Hyungwon, he took it from your hand. You looked over at him to see him put the candy cane in his own mouth as he spoke to Hyungwon uncaringly.
You blinked a few times in shock. Minghao was always sensitive about sharing germs, he never even liked to share a straw with Jun.
Your eyes caught on movement behind Minghao's head, and you tore your eyes away from Minghao to see Wonwoo waving you over.
"Uhm- excuse me, I'm being summoned."
Minghao didn't look away from Hyungwon as you left, glaring as Hyungwon watched you leave a little too carefully.
"What are your intentions with Y/n?" He asked as soon as you were gone.
Hyungwon let out a soft laugh. "I don't have any. Y/n already rejected me, and I assume it's because of you."
"I didn't make them reject you, if that's what you mean."
"It’s not." He cleared his throat as he stood up, "I'm gonna head home now, I would ask you to say goodbye to Y/n for me, but I know you won’t."
Minghao let out a soft scoff as he left. Looking at the candy cane he took from you, he smirked as he realized just how comfortable with you, he was.
"What’s up?" You asked Wonwoo as you approached him.
He gestured to Minghao and Hyungwon, "I can feel the tension from over here, what is happening?"
"I don't even know. They're having a normal conversation but it's like standing in between two angry dogs."
Wonwoo chuckled at this, "Well, it looks like one finally backed down."
Looking back, you saw Hyungwon leaving, and you felt a bit of relief washing over you. As much as you had hoped your interaction with him would make Minghao jealous, you didn't want him to be too affected by Minghao's silent venom.
As Chan called Wonwoo over, you were left by yourself again.
Minghao suddenly looked back and caught your eye. He smiled softly before he stood up. You watched has he walked over to you and leaned down to whisper, "I need to talk to you."
Popping the candy cane in his mouth again, he walked past you and up the stairs. Swallowing nervously, you followed after a few moments, following him out onto the upstairs balcony.
You were smacked with a gust of cold air as soon as you walked out. Minghao noticed and slipped off his jacket before placing it over your shoulders.
"What about you?"
He shook his head, "I'm fine."
The two of you leaned on the balcony railing for a moment before Minghao spoke. "Do you like Hyungwon?"
You felt your heart skip as you shook your head. "No."
"Do you like me?"
Your breath caught as you looked over at him. He turned his head and met your eyes; he had a soft smile on his face. "Because I like you."
You forgot how to breathe as you stared at each other for a few moments. His gaze was soft as he spoke again, "I didn't really realize it until I thought I was losing you. But that was the point, right? To make me see it?"
Minghao had figured out enough from Jun's intervention, and the fact that you, he and Wonwoo had been sneaking off to talk a lot recently. They liked to intervene, and you were always too scared to do things on your own.
"You knew?"
He smiled softly, "I do now."
You let out a soft laugh, "I really wasn't sure how this was gonna go."
He turned towards you as he tossed the candy cane onto the nearby table, "I should thank you really." You gave him a perplexed look and he continued. "I don't know if I ever would have allowed myself to see it. I was so afraid of losing you that I was blind to the fact you were the one waiting for me."
Reaching out, he gently squeezed your cheek, making you frown. He grinned. "Did I hurt you? Making you wait so long?"
You thought for a second as you admitted honestly, "A couple of times."
His gaze turned sad as he let out a deep breath as he pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry."
You rested your head on his shoulder as you took a deep breath. "I forgive you."
He smiled as he cupped the back of your head, "Thank you. Let me take you on a date to make up for it." He pulled away and smiled brightly at you, "A real date. A first date."
You bit the inside of your lip as you nodded happily. "Deal."
As another cold gust of wind blew past, Minghao shivered as he gently pulled your arm, "Let’s go inside."
Following him with a soft giggle, you made your way back inside but stopped with a grunt as you ran into Minghao's back.
"What?" You grumbled as you rubbed your nose, looking to see why Minghao had stopped suddenly.
Seeing him looking up at something, your eyes followed his gaze to see mistletoe hanging from the balcony door.
You frowned. "Was that there before?"
Minghao let out a soft scoff, "Considering I just saw Jun and Joshua run back down the stairs as we came back in, I'm going to say no."
You let out a soft laugh as you shook your head, "Meddlers."
He turned towards you with a grin, before he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you suddenly to his chest. You met his eyes with a stunned look, and he just grinned down at you.
"I can forgive it this time."
Leaning in slowly, your eyes remained locked, noses brushing, and then lips, before he kissed you. Your hand gently gripped the collar of his shirt as he pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss.
You smiled into his lips and felt him do the same as his hand intertwined through your hair, refusing to break the kiss.
You felt warm and giddy as you returned his kiss, only one thought entering through the euphoric fog. 'He tastes like peppermint'
xx End xx
Ugh, I do not like how this came out overall, though I am happy with the ending.
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#minghao x reader#the8 x reader#minghao/reader#the8/reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen/reader#the8 imagine#minghao imagine#the8 fic#minghao fic#seventeen imagine#seventeen fic#kpop fanfic#kpop imagines#12 days of christmas#xu minghao imagine
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unraveling threads
Pairing – coriolanus snow x female!reader Word Count? 1.4k Summary – Modeling for Tigris leads to an unexpectedly tense encounter with her cousin, Coriolanus, that leaves him questioning his composure. Tags: some cute fluff, some indecent exposure, flustered coriolanus AN: Something I wrote in-between classes, something cute & sweet & not too long. lol hope y'all enjoy. again, do not plagarize or copy my work, if you do you're going to hell.
The workshop buzzed with the creative chaos that was Tigris’s signature. Bolts of fabric spilled from their shelves, pooling in soft heaps on the floor. Pinned sketches of daring designs adorned the walls, each one a whisper of ambition and artistry. You stood in the center of it all, perched on the raised wooden platform framed by three mirrors. Today’s project—a delicate long-sleeve blouse with sheer detailing and an intricate open neckline—felt like something out of a dream, shimmering faintly under the warm afternoon light. The soft fabric hugged your frame like a secret meant only for you. You had been friends with Tigris since before she started attending fashion school, and when she asked if you would help her with her projects, it felt natural to say yes. She needed someone to model her work—her doll, her muse—and you couldn’t resist the idea. You’d stepped in to be her muse and “living mannequin,” thrilled to help a friend bring her visions to life. “What girl doesn’t like playing dress-up?” It was fun to see her artistic vision come to life on your body, and even more so to support her as she poured her heart into every stitch. Sometimes, you wondered if she realized how much you truly enjoyed being part of her creative world.
Tigris circled you, her sharp eyes taking in every angle of the unfinished design. “Stay still,” she instructed, her tone clipped but not unkind. Her fingers deftly adjusted the fabric near your collarbone. “The neckline is tricky. If you move too much, the stitching might—” Her words were cut off by a faint but unmistakable rip.
The silence that followed was heavy. You froze, glancing down at the blouse in the mirror. A seam along the neckline had given way, causing the fabric to slip lower on one side, baring more of your chest than you intended. Your breath caught, heat rushing to your cheeks as you instinctively clutched at the torn material to keep it in place.
“Well,” Tigris sighed, straightening and pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I warned you, didn’t I? It’s not a disaster, though. I can fix it.” She stepped back, scanning the damage with a critical eye. “Just stay here. Don’t move, or it’ll get worse. I’ll grab my sewing kit.”
“I didn’t move,” you protested softly, your tone tinged with indignation and humor. Your reflection in the mirror betrayed your flustered amusement, caught somewhere between embarrassment and mischief.
Tigris waved you off with an exasperated flick of her hand, already walking toward the adjoining room. “Of course you didn’t,” she muttered absently as she disappeared.
Left alone, you sighed, holding the torn blouse carefully in place as you studied yourself in the mirror. The design, even in its incomplete state, was stunning. The sheer sleeves were embroidered with delicate golden threads, catching the light like tiny strands of spun sunlight. But now, with the neckline slipping dangerously low, the blouse seemed to transform from ethereal elegance to something daringly seductive. A small smile tugged at your lips. Perhaps the rip wasn’t such a disaster after all.
The sound of the door creaking open behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Assuming it was Tigris, you didn’t bother turning around. “Did you find the—” The words died on your lips as you glanced over your shoulder.
Coriolanus Snow stood in the doorway, his tall frame framed by the soft glow of the hallway light. His usually composed expression was frozen in surprise, his pale blue eyes locked on you. His gaze flickered to the torn neckline of the blouse, lingering for a fraction too long before darting away.
“Coriolanus,” you said, your voice calm despite the sudden tension thickening the air. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”
His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. For someone who always seemed to have a sharp reply or calculated observation, he looked completely undone. “I—I thought Tigris was here,” he stammered at last, his usual smoothness replaced by a rare awkwardness. His hand tightened on the doorknob, his knuckles pale against the polished brass.
“She stepped out,” you explained, adjusting the fabric with deliberate slowness. “The blouse ripped. She went to get her sewing kit.”
His jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his pale skin as if he were physically willing himself not to look at you again. “I shouldn’t interrupt,” he said stiffly, already stepping back toward the door. His movements were abrupt, almost frantic, as though the very air in the room burned him.
“You’re not interrupting,” you said, tilting your head slightly. A teasing smile danced on your lips, the sight of his flustered expression too tempting to ignore. “Unless you’re afraid of a little torn fabric.”
His eyes flicked to the torn neckline, and for a moment, he forgot himself. The fabric had slipped just enough to bare the soft curve of your chest, still modest but undeniably daring in its exposure. The delicate embroidery and sheer material only added to the effect, catching the warm light and creating a shimmering contrast between what was hidden and what wasn’t. He could he should look away—should step back and give you space—but his gaze lingered a fraction too long, drawn to the elegance of the moment. It wasn’t just the exposure that held his attention; it was the way you stood there, unbothered, one hand carefully holding the fabric in place while the other rested at your side, as if you hadn’t noticed how the blouse now seemed to toe the line between sophistication and seduction. The faint smile on your lips, almost amused, only made the image more arresting. He blinked, realizing too late that his hesitation betrayed him, and he forced his gaze upward, his expression carefully blank.
His cheeks flushed a faint pink, the first crack in his stoic façade. “I’ll come back later,” he muttered, his voice strained. Before you could say anything else, he turned and fled, the door clicking shut behind him.
Later That Day
When Tigris returned minutes later, she found you still standing on the platform, the torn blouse carefully held in place. “This design,” she muttered as she worked to repair the seam, her skilled fingers moving with practiced ease, “is going to be the death of me. But it’ll be worth it when it’s finished.”
You hummed in agreement, though your thoughts were elsewhere. Coriolanus’s reaction played on a loop in your mind, each detail more amusing than the last—the widening of his eyes, the faint flush creeping up his neck, the way he couldn’t seem to get out of the room fast enough. For someone so composed, so calculated, it had been thrilling to see him unravel so completely.
“I didn’t move,” you murmured again, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips. Tigris glanced up briefly, raising an eyebrow at your cryptic remark, but said nothing.
Later, you found Coriolanus in the sitting area near the back of the workshop. He was hunched over a teacup, the porcelain dwarfed by his long fingers. His back was to you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid line of his posture. Tigris was already there, leaning casually against the table with an amused smile playing on her lips.
“Something wrong, cousin?” she asked lightly, her tone laced with faux innocence. Coriolanus didn’t look up, his gaze fixed intently on the steaming tea as though it held the answers to all of life’s problems. “No,” he said curtly, his voice clipped and controlled.
Before Tigris could respond, a soft laugh escaped your lips, drawing both their attention. You leaned casually against the doorway, still dressed in the repaired blouse, the shimmer of the fabric catching the light just so. “Thanks for today, Tigris,” you said with a smile, your voice warm and genuine. Then, turning your gaze to Coriolanus, your tone shifted into something softer, lower. “Goodbye, Coriolanus,” you said, the faintest hint of teasing lacing your words.
His breath hitched, his posture stiffening as your words lingered in the air. You slipped out of the room with a playful sway in your step, not bothering to look back. But you didn’t need to. You could feel his gaze burning into your retreating figure.
Once the door shut behind you, Coriolanus let out a heavy sigh, his head falling into his hands. “She’s impossible,” he muttered, his voice muffled but laced with something that sounded suspiciously like defeat.
For the first time, he admitted to himself the truth he’d been avoiding all afternoon: he had a crush on you. And worse, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Tigris smirked, watching him over the rim of her teacup. “You’ve got it bad,” she teased, but he ignored her, groaning softly as he leaned back in his chair. The memory of you—half
© ER1NNE est. 2024 belonging to @er1nne, do not plagarize or copy
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Teach Me
A Jayvik fic - part two
Word-count: 2256
Summary: Jayce teaches Viktor how to dance. Things get a little heated.
Warnings: This is pretty tame. A little nsfw dialogue at the end that alludes to part three.
Notes: I really love this. This is technically part two but you can read it on its own. You can find and read part one on my page. I didn’t put near the same amount of effort into part one, so I might even go back and update it sometime soon. I’ll create a list where you can find them all together too. It’s currently 5am, haven’t slept and I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t post this now, so I apologize if there’s mistakes lol. I’ll edit them when I wake up again. 🫶🏼 you guys.
“Oh, but there is no music,” Viktor musters with pause, like a last-minute thought. Like he didn’t fully think through asking Jayce to teach him how to dance. Here, alone, in his room for the night. Viktor stands towards the end of the large king-sized bed, navy-colored sheets with gold stitching. His cane is tucked into his side, eyes on Jayce, who’s still standing in front of the double doors leading to the balcony.
Jayce is luminated from behind. The glow of the party lanterns below casting warm shadows into the night sky and their - Viktor’s room.
“We shouldn’t need any,” Jayce promises as he steps further in. He’s still taking in the room, the colors and warm ambient lighting, when he focuses back on Viktor. For a split second, he stands there looking unsure, doubtful or perhaps even regretful for asking Jayce.
Something akin to dedication and reverence rakes its way across Jayce’s bones. Deep in his marrow. He wants to erase any trace of unease from Viktor’s body and mind.
Taking a few long strides, Jayce moves to a small coffee table in the room. Sly smirk painted across his lips, hands already deep within his pockets, searching, he says, “You get the steps right, I give you more of these.”
Confusion clouds Viktor’s face. Eyebrow quirked, nose slightly scrunched, until he looks down. Jayce litters the tabletop with sweets. The same candy he stole earlier. Viktor’s favorite. A laugh is shoved from Viktor’s chest as handfuls are dropped. He watches in awe, in surprise. Jayce can’t tell which, though he decides right then and there that he’ll do anything to keep that look of wonder and mischief on Vik’s face.
“Jayce.”
Viktor laces his name with muted laughter and accusation, really failing to look upset in the slightest.
“Don't. Don’t give me that. You’re lucky I didn’t grab the crystal dish they were sitting in. Would’ve been easier to carry all night. Been weighing down my pockets,” Jayce rambles.
Set ablaze from the joy on Viktor’s face, he’s moving faster again, not overthinking every move. He gets excited. Jayce knows this. His words and actions speed up, excitement bubbling in his chest. Enhanced by Viktor.
He's still going, Jayce. Still talking, still moving, until a slight breeze pours cool air down his back. It’s then Jayce pauses. His suit jacket is already halfway down his arms, resting in the crooks of his elbows. He wasn’t thinking. Why would he take off his jacket just to dance? Is it weird? Does Viktor think so?
No.
Jayce watches as Viktor stands there rolling up his own sleeves so causally. He doesn’t stop, still folding the fabric. He only looks up at Jayce when he’s been quite for a little too long. And Viktor just smiles. Easy and cool. Like a lazy creek. It soothes Jayce, like the most expensive balm one could buy.
“Alright,” Jayce explains as he shucks off his jacket the rest of the way, “the Waltz. It’s a simple box step.”
He closes the distance between them. His nerves are only settled for so long, until he comes to stand in front of Viktor. Until he realizes, they both can’t lead.
A smug smile tugs at the corner of Viktor’s mouth. He doesn’t wait for Jayce to voice what he can clearly read written on his face. Confident as always, he grabs Jayce’s hands. Hosting their right and left into the air, clasped together, and guiding Jayce’s right to his back. Viktor whispers, “You lead. I will follow.”
That stirs something within Jayce. Deep in his gut. A pit buried and nestled behind his belly button, and Viktor’s dipping his fucking fingers in.
He feels the back brace beneath Viktor’s black shirt, firm under his open palm. Jayce wants more. To feel more. He looks good in black. Fuck.
The feeling of Viktor’s hand coming to a rest on his shoulder shakes Jayce from his thoughts.
“We’re essentially mirroring one another’s steps, in the shape of a box. Each step is a corner,” Jayce describes. His hands are still on Viktor when he realizes he probably should’ve shown him the steps first, with more space between them. He steps away to demonstrate.
They walk through it slowly. One step at a time. Apart and then together again. Jayce gets lost. It might look like he’s letting Viktor work through the stumbling steps on his own, but no, he’s just lost. In Viktor.
Jayce in time relaxes. His right hand splays broader on Viktor’s back, covering so much space. His thumb trailing the line of his spine through the brace. He wants to feel skin. Their palms are slick with sweat, Viktor’s fingers tightening against his hand and shoulder with each misstep.
“Viktor,” Jayce speaks, “eyes on me.”
Instantly Viktor is there, grip still tight and honey amber eyes fixed on his face with determination. A bit of annoyance. Jayce smiles softly. He finds it endearing. Viktor’s intent to learn. Though now Viktor doesn’t respond, doesn’t return to the steps either.
A beat of silence. Then –
“How do you suppose I learn if I am not looking?” Viktor sputters, frustration etched into his features like Jayce asked him for something impossible. It only fuels Jayce’s adoration. Laughing, he pulls away gently, fingertips lingering, and walks over to the small table.
“You’ve done exceptional,” Jayce says as he swipes two pieces of chocolate. He walks back over to Viktor, unwrapping the fudge himself and holding the foil flat for Viktor to pick off of. Even more melted than before, fudge and peanut butter coat the foil, smudging their skin.
“The only exceptional thing I’ve achieved is not breaking any of your toes,” Viktor muses. Joking, but still frustrated. Viktor finishes eating, slipping his thumb into his mouth, ridding it of any left-over fudge.
Jayce finishes his own, tucking the trash into his pocket to deal with later. Busying himself, Jayce stares at Viktor’s feet, partly thinking and partly looking anywhere else that is not Viktor’s mouth. He replays the steps in his mind, imagines Viktor’s brace. Even though he can’t see it now he remembers its design, the mechanics.
While he didn’t lie to Viktor at all, he can understand the hiccups due to the brace. The small steps forward aren’t so much the issue as the side steps and going backwards. Viktor’s leg brace was built for stability. Rigid and sturdy, not for flowing movements. Counterbalancing his weight without his cane is also new.
“Take off your shoes,” Jayce declares. It stops Viktor mid sentence, going on again about Ms. Ellis and when she’ll notice the missing bowl of sweets. He stands there frozen and perplexed. Jayce doesn’t give him a chance to question.
He kicks off his own, and then drops to his knees. Jayce slips the ties of Viktor’s dress shoes loose easily, letting him hold onto his shoulder as his heels slide out.
Perhaps the chocolate has gone to Jayce’s head.
“Now what?” Viktor ask once their both standing again, facing each other, amusement and sarcasm replacing his confusion. They’re both in their socks. Feet sinking into the plush carpet, Jayce takes a step forward, and another.
“Wanted to try something. You’re gonna have to be closer this time though,” Jayce explains. He crowds into Viktor’s space. His right hand reaching forward with confidence, with the excuse that it’s for the dance. Viktor doesn’t hesitate, slipping back into the familiar stance. Until -
“Now, place your feet onto mine,” Jayce explains.
Now Viktor hesitates.
Looking up from the floor, amber eyes on hazel, Viktor says nothing. He just looks at Jayce intently. A moment passes, thick with tension. And in another moment, Viktor drops their clasped hands, grabbing Jayce’s other shoulder.
It shouldn’t be as intimate as it feels. The soft arch of his feet. A shutter shouldn’t rack its way down Jayce’s body as Viktor’s sock covered feet slide onto his.
It’s closer than Jayce thought. Both of Viktor’s hands now rest higher up Jayce’s shoulders. Instinctively, his left found Viktor’s waist, holding him steady as he found his balance and a comfortable position. Just as he settles, looking back to Jayce directly, soft music drifts in from the balcony. The party outside.
Jayce nearly forgot. The sea of people outside, mingling and some dancing themselves. Though Jayce would never trade spots with any of them. Money, power, spotlight. He’s content here. Alone with Viktor, in the sanctity of this room. A new song begins downstairs. Jayce’s cue to start moving.
He moves with a little more effort, the weight of Viktor comforting more than anything though. Gliding across the carpet Jayce starts with a formal Waltz. Poised and perfect. Long strides. He even adds in the turns. He wants Viktor to feel it, the grace of a Waltz you’d perform in front of the eyes of those downstairs.
But here, with Viktor, he shortens his steps soon. Because that is not them. He doesn’t feel the pressure to be perfect in Viktor’s arms. They’re more than fancy parties and the “right way” to dance. He wants Viktor to know he can have it all, that Jayce will show him everything, but that most of all, any way is perfect as long as it’s them. Together.
Before long, they’re simply turning softly, swaying. Moves Viktor could easily do and yet his feet never leave Jayce’s.
“Thank you,” Viktor breathes. The words are spoken lowly enough between them that Jayce barely registers it. Lost again. Jayce hums in response. He can’t do words at the moment.
Viktor’s body has drifted even closer. Jayce thinks if he takes a deep enough breath, their chests might brush together. But right now, it’s Viktor’s hands. Venturing from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, Viktor’s fingers graze against the longer strands of Jayce’s grown out hair. It sends goosebumps erupting, racing across his skin.
“What may I do for you in return? For all of this, tonight?” Viktor ask, his voice different now. Still sweet, still rich, but lower. Jayce understands right then that Viktor reminds him of syrup. His voice specifically. Aged and pure. Sticky sweet and slow. Thick and consuming.
Jayce smiles, responds, “The fudge, remember?”
“No,” Viktor muses, “something else.”
“Teach me something.”
Jayce can’t even regret it, once it’s past his lips and out of his mouth. Words thrown out like a curveball in slow motion. He meant it sincerely. Jayce taught him something, why not offer the same in return?
It came out heavy though. Flirty. Loaded with innuendo due to the slight draw of Jayce’s voice now.
“Like what?” Viktor inquires. It’s this moment Viktor’s fingers, warm and soft, fully slide into Jayce’s hair at the base of his skull. Jayce bites his tongue, and everything he wants to say back.
How to touch you. How to kiss you. How to ask for that from you. Fuck.
Jayce says nothing. He knows though. Viktor knows. Has always been able to read Jayce’s thoughts. Can read it all over his face too, and in the steel look in his eyes.
There is only a beat, soft, before Viktor’s grip tightens in his hair, ripping a gasp from Jayce.
Before he can breathe in again, Viktor’s mouth finds his. Warm. Soft. Their chest fully pressed together now. Jayce’s lungs burn for a full breath, but he doesn’t relent. Neither of them do. He only needs Viktor. To breathe him in.
His arms wrap fully around Viktor’s waist, pulling him in tighter, hands roaming his back now. Their tongues meet and that pit in Jayce’s belly turns molten. A sound Jayce doesn’t want to admit to escapes as Viktor brings a hand around to his face, nails scrapping through his bread. They break apart.
“Jayce,” Viktor rasp.
Jayce doesn’t give him a chance. Driven by need and Viktor’s wrecked tone. Knowing he made him sound like that, he dives back in, erasing the smile from Viktor’s face. Jayce licks behind his teeth, tasting champagne and chocolate, and just - Viktor.
Viktor’s nails scratch his jaw again, venturing lower. His other hand still drags through Jayce’s hair. Things become slower. Hands still roaming, squeezing, pulling. They stand still though. No longer swaying, Jayce’s feet are going numb and tingly beneath them, and he couldn’t care less.
Languid strokes of their tongues draw out more and more sounds. Jayce is distracted. Drowning and loving it. Drinking Viktor in by the lungful. It’s why he doesn’t see it coming.
Another tight grip in his hair, accompanied this time by Viktor’s other hand wrapped around his throat too, squeezing as Viktor sinks his teeth into Jayce’s bottom lip.
“I – unnf.”
Jayce groans, best he can with the way Viktor has his neck cranked back, fingers tightening around his throat.
“Tell me, Jayce. Tell me what you want to learn,” Viktor all but purrs.
He leans in, not going back to fully kissing him but licking across and into Jayce’s open mouth. Like he can’t stop himself either. Like Viktor, too, is fueled by desire, too hungry to wait for a response.
Jayce is weak. Weak when it comes to Viktor. Viktor’s wet mouth and hard touch. He sticks his own tongue out, meeting anywhere Viktor will allow him a taste. He only answers when Viktor pulls back once again.
He pants like a dog. Whines, only a little.
“Teach me how to suck cock.”
#jayvik#vikjayce#arcane#fanfic#jayce x viktor#viktor arcane#jayce talis#jayce and viktor#fanfiction#arcane fanfic
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(Wip/Sketch) The Resurrection of a Heretic
You can definitely tell I got really tired after the first few pages but! It's done! Kinda! Pencil and paper sketch but it's done!
It's 3:30 AM so I really need to sleep, but tomorrow I'll add a read-more page by page transcription bc I know my handwriting isn't the easiest thing to read. Heavily recommend viewing in a new tab lol.
Had the Lamb chosen ANY other godless than Wren, and done it any earlier than before Narinder married them, Narinder would have been pissed about this. And unfortunately for Wren, being resurrected while being godless leaves its marks.
Anyway, Lamb stop breaking the laws of Faith for five seconds challenge, level impossible
Transcription below the cut
PAGE 1
Lamb: WREN! Hi! Wren: Hello, Lamb. Lamb, falling back into the water: Baa! Wren: Lamb!
PAGE 2
Wren: You are really bad at getting out of that pond... Lamb: It's the fleece. It's heavy when wet. Wren: Maybe you should forego it when visiting here? Lamb: And not look cool? No way! Wren: Almost drowning in a pool in the spectral plane does not sound very "cool," but to each their own...
PAGE 3 (timeskip, after unseen conversation in which Lamb suggests resurrecting Wren)
Wren: I... am not sure that is a good idea, Lamb. I have been dead for a hundred years now. I am not sure I know how to live anymore. Lamb: It'll be okay- Narinder and I will help you.
Lamb: Since you're not one of my followers, I need your actual body. Wren, as a ghost in the living world: My children will kill you if they see you digging up my grave. Lamb: Don't worry- it's handled!
Elloi (Narinder and Wren's middle daughter, all grown up): Not that we do not appreciate the visit, but our Father is visiting with you...? Kallamar: HAHA I missed my nieces, of course! Kallamar, thinking to himself: You owe me, Lamb! (A small text points to Kallamar, reading " "handling" it")
Wren: I am not sure our brother-in-law is up to that task. My girls are sharp. Lamb, offscreen: I have faith in him. Wren: At least one of us does.
PAGE 4
Wren: Also, uh- a hundred years? My body is nothing but bones and shrouds. Oh, and my death mask... Lamb: That's fine, as long as they're your bones, it will work. Wren: Should... I be worried? Lamb: No, no! I've tested it! Wren: Okay, I'm worried. Lamb: Hey!
Wren: Did you just shove my skeleton in your Crown? Lamb: Well I'm not about to walk out with it in my arms. Your daughters would try to kill me then...
Lamb: Think they'll notice the grave is disturbed? Wren: Minuit visits every morning, so yes. Lamb: Hm. So I should finish this before morning. Wren: If I come back as a zombie, I will bite you. Lamb: Promise? Wren: Lamb! Lamb: I'm kidding!
Lamb: I will miss being able to visit you on a whim, though. Wren: ...
Wren: Well, knowing you, me being alive again will not stop you... Lamb: True. You'll never escape me. We're like- spouse-in-laws or something! Wren: ... Not how it works, but yes, I suppose.
PAGE 5
Lamb: Kallamar is distracting your daughters, but the others should give me enough devotion for this- you know, being gods and Witnesses. Wren: I do not know, no. Lamb: Should I invite Nari? Wren: He will recognize a godless shroud. He might not let you go through with it, if he knows. Not to mention my mask... Lamb: Good point... I'm sure he won't mind if we surprise him!
Lamb: Wait, can you teleport? Wren: I am attached to you right now, so I will be dragged with you. Lamb: Cool....
Wren: I will admit, I will miss floating around like this. Lamb: You'd prefer to stay as a ghost? Wren: Now I did not say that.
Wren: It would take a stronger man than I to pass up the chance to touch their husband again...
Lamb: Oh, I see where your mind is~ Wren: Hold on- get your mind out of the ditch!
Wren: Thank you for not just dropping my skeleton. Lamb: Well, that would be rude. Wren: Kind of like shoving it in a bag... Lamb: It wasn't a bag!
Lamb: I need to put a mark on your skeleton... preferably somewhere subtle. It'll still be visible when you're alive again- any preference? Wren: Not really? Just do not be... weird about it. Lamb: Your hand, then.
PAGE 6
Wren: That is a strange symbol. What is it? Lamb: A modification of an immortality symbol. For my followers, it keeps them from aging- but this version helps me reverse your death. I think it helps meld the body and soul? It's very different from resurrecting my followers...
Lamb: Took me 50 years to think of this... It would not work before that. Wren: You... have been trying to revive me for 50 years?
Lamb: Oh- should I remove your mask? Wren: I would rather not see my own skull. Lamb: You'll be smelling whatever's inside when you wake up if I don't. Wren: ... Yes, remove it please.
Small text pointing to a cloaked Heket and Leshy reads "can't see or hear Wren."
Lamb: Okay! Ready! Wren, just float above your body! Leshy, Heket, Shamura- Witnesses, around the circle.
PAGE 7
Wren: Oh this is weird. Huh...
PAGE 8
Wren, thinking: What do I... do? This feels...
Wren, thinking: strange. Narinder, thinking: Where has everyone gone-?
Narinder: What. Is that Lamb doing now.
PAGE 9
Wren, thinking: It... worked. Wait, how do I breathe-
Shamura, offscreen: Relax.
Shamura: Your body will breathe on its own. Just relax. My siblings and I have been where you are.
Wren, breathing out: Thank you...
PAGE 10
Lamb: It worked! yes! How are you feeling?
Wren: Like I need a bath. Desperately.
Leshy: And clean clothes I bet. Lamb: Yeah, death shrouds a hundred years old is probably not a great feel...
Lamb: Come on- let's get you cleaned up. Wren: Okay... thank you.
text pointing to Wren reads "first bath in 100 years"
Lamb: Quick question- were you... wanting to keep this? Wren: My death shroud?? No?? It is a hundred years old and decaying... Lamb: Just making sure before I burn it.
Wren: I do want to keep the mask, though. Lamb: Got it. text pointing to the Lamb and the shroud reads "sets on fire"
text above the tub Wren is in reads "dunks head"
PAGE 11
Narinder: Lamb, I need to spea- Lamb: NARINDER!
Narinder: Gah! Lamb: Don't come in! You'll ruin the surprise! Narinder: Why are you short-?
Narinder, offscreen: Lamb! We are married! I have seen you naked before! We have bathed together!
Lamb, offscreen: Sorry, Nari- this is a surprise for you, so- please, just wait downstairs? Narinder: Would this have something to do with that ritual from earlier? Lamb: ... Maybe. Narinder: Fine, I will be downstairs. In the library.
Lamb: Hey, got you some robes- Wren: LAMB! Privacy!! Lamb: Relax, you've got nothing I haven't seen before. Wren: I DO NOT CARE- Lamb: You're gonna ruin your hair drying it like that-
PAGE 12
Wren: If you put your symbol on me I will hit you. Lamb: Too late, it's already on your hand. Wren: I meant that triangle thing, actually. Lamb: Oh- don't worry, the robe is symbol-free.
Wren: So this is permanent? Lamb: yeah, sorry- in all my experiments, removing it did... weird things. Wren: How did you "experiment," anyway? Lamb: Let's not talk about that...
Lamb: I think I liked what you wore in the After better. Wren: Mm, but that was a bit... gravity-defying. Lamb: Bet I could figure it out...
Wren: Being alive feels so weird... Lamb: yeah, I get it.
PAGE 13
Narinder: There you are, Lamb. Now, what did you-
Wren: Hello again, love.
Narinder: Wren...? How...? Wren: The Lamb is stubborn.
Narinder: You died... You are godless... The Lamb should not have been able to... Wren: They would not take that as an answer.
Wren: Besides, you have done the impossible before, too.
PAGE 14
Lamb: Soo you're not mad that I went behind your back to revive a godless person?
Text reads "Grabs"
Narinder: Do not ever do that again. ... But no. I am not mad. This time.
Lamb: Well, if Wren died again, I make no promises... but no one else. Not many ghosts with bodies still around, anyway...
Narinder: You are the most stubborn god I know. Thank you...
#justa arts#god in a godless land au#sketch#comic#canon/oc#also narilamb#but very much so Narinder/OC#cotl Narinder#cotl Lamb#cotl OC#OC Wren#cameos from the Bishops#Now the question is. will that symbol just keep Wren's soul from disconnecting from his body#orrrr is it also gonna keep him from aging. oh the mysteries lol#long post
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Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader
(Part 4)
Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader
Joker x Reader with Anxiety
Word Count: 9892
Warnings: Joker, lol
Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her
A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one
(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)
Hope you enjoy this part 💚
-
It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.
The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.
Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.
Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.
She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.
She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?
Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?
The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.
The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.
The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.
Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.
She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.
Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.
Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.
Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.
The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.
Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.
Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.
Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.
Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.
Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.
Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.
Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?
Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.
“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”
Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.
The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.
Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”
Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”
The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”
Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”
Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”
Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.
Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”
Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.
Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”
Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”
Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”
Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.
“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”
The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.
“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.
“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”
Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.
“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.
Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”
Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”
Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.
The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.
Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”
Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?
-
The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.
“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.
“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”
Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.
The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.
“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.
“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”
Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.
On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.
Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.
“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”
“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”
“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”
As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.
They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.
The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?
She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.
How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?
She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.
Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.
“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."
The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.
But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?
She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.
Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.
“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.
Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.
“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”
Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.
Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.
Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”
“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”
Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.
“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.
Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.
“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.
Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.
-
Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.
Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”
Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.
He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”
Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”
Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.
“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”
He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.
“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”
He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.
Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.
“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”
Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.
Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.
Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”
“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.
“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.
“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”
With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.
When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”
But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.
Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”
Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”
He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.
Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.
“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.
Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.
Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”
Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”
Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.
Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”
“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”
“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”
Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.
Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”
Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”
Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.
Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”
“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.
-
Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.
Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”
Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”
“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”
“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.
Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”
“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.
Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”
Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”
Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”
He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”
Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”
“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.
“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”
Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”
“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”
Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”
Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.
Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.
“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”
Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.
Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.
-
The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.
“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.
Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”
Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”
Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”
Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”
Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”
Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”
“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.
Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”
Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”
Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.
“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.
“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.
Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”
Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”
“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.
Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”
It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”
Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.
Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”
Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”
Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”
Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”
“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.
He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.
-
The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.
“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”
Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”
The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.
“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.
“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.
A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”
They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.
Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”
“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”
“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.
The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.
Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”
“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.
He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”
They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”
Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”
“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”
Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”
“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.
With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”
Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.
“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”
Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.
As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.
Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”
Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”
Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.
When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.
Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”
Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”
“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.
Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”
“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.
Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”
Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.
“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.
As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.
For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.
-
Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.
But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.
"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"
There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."
Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"
A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”
Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.
“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.
Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.
“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.
“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.
Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.
“Hey, Bunny.”
Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.
“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”
“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.
“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.
Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.
“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.
“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”
Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.
“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”
Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.
“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.
Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.
“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.
“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”
Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.
“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.
Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?
“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.
“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.
“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”
Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.
In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"
"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."
Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.
“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.
Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.
“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.
Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”
Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.
Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.
“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."
Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.
Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.
Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."
Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.
Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.
She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.
After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."
Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."
Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.
"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."
Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"
“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.
"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.
Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.
-
It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.
Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.
“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.
Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.
“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.
Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.
Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”
Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”
“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”
He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”
Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.
“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.
“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”
“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”
Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.
“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”
Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”
“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”
“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”
Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”
He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”
Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”
Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”
“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.
Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”
He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”
“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”
Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”
The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.
Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”
The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.
Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.
It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.
But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.
The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.
The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.
Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.
A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”
The man’s jaw tightened. No response.
His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.
-
A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.
I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons
Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)
Thank you for reading 💚
#fanfic#joker#joker fanfiction#heath joker#dc joker#health ledger joker x reader#jack and joker#the joker#ledger joker x reader#batman#the dark knight#the dark knight trilogy#joker x reader
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Rare pictures? Maybe? That's the only other Bård court picture I've seen aside from the one where his back is fully turned showing off that cunty sweater lol I'd kill for a photo of him in court showing his face. Especially since he was described as cowardly and squeamish 😭
And I don't see enough people talking about this one of Vegard and Tomas (?). Vegard usually looks pretty nerdy in the early 90s pics without corpse paint but here I think I might be scared of him a bit. He looks like a 90s degrassi bully lolol
i have seen both of these before but i am very pleased to see them again because they are both really great pictures so either way, thank you for sending them in to me!
yesss, his little court sweater is super cute! i bet he was real comfy in that court room! is it just me or are places like that always super cold inside? but bård was probably quite warm and cozy as hell in his cunty little sweater lolol… i would have loved to see a front facing picture of him in court too, really just to examine his face i suppose? a persons emotions can often be so well shown in their face and deep in their eyes… or not, i just wonder what his facial expressions did show in court and what his eyes held… descriptions of ones attitude and demeanour are nice but unfortunately pictures are much nicer…
i can definitely understand your point there about the picture of vegard! i think the angle may be making vegard look a little different in comparison to many other pictures of him but i do not think i could ever be scared of him lolol! his cute curly hair takes all of the fear away, curly hair is just absolutely adorable to me and washes away any fear at all, you know?
he was cute in the early 90s with his curly hair, hot in the late 90s with his buzz cut, cute again in the early 2000s with his curly and now he is hot again as an older man with curly hair! i think he was especially super cute in the early 2000s because he was kind of chubby? i do not know if chubby is really the right word for it though! he just had a bit more of a well rounded face, a bit of pudge or something and it made his cheeks ( or really his entire face ) look so damn kissable hehe
his early 2000s chubbiness ( ? ) is especially prominent in video interviews, like the one he did for metal: a headbangers journey which i rewatch far too often just to see his handsome face and head his gorgeous soft voice
i just think damn near everyone in the black metal scene is so fucking gorgeous in general, wether they be cute or hot! i loveee seeing pictures of them so thanks once again for sending these in to me <3
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What's your thoughts on Octavia?
she sure does exist
ok real talk, she's inoffensive, but not really a character archetype i care for, the moody goth teenager. i don't hate her though and her situation strikes a chord. brandon (i believe? correct me if im wrong) calling her a cockblocking bitch or whatever was like. kind of insane and offputting. she's in a really sad situation with a shitty dad but the narrative is so determined to defend stolas over everything and now she's in the wrong for being upset over it? gonna use this to jump off and ramble about stolas abandoning his daughter at every turn because i don't really have much to say about via on her own and i've wanted to complain about this like, forever
like 'stolas is a good dad!' when he:
actively has an open affair in front of her that seems to have kickstarted constant fighting between her parents. stolas does not seem to comfort or communicate with octavia over this whatsoever until she literally runs off crying over it in loo-loo land. even then, he's still fixated on specifically blitz protecting him. go look after your fucking daughter instead of whining about the bodyguard you don't need, dude.
tangentially, invites his affair partner (a stranger that is playing a part in actively disrupting octavia's life and relationship with her father) to what is meant to be a daddy-daughter day (ignores the fact she's not having a good time and then acts surprised when she tells him such) and flirts with him sexually in front of his (underage) daughter. seems to ignore octavia's worsening mood in favour of blitz until the aforementioned tears. has little to say for himself when confronted but assures her he won't abandon her. lol. lmao, even.
promptly forgets about something important to her and abandons her to once again in a foreign place to have sexual banter with his affair partner. is an all-powerful demon who could've pulled blitz away from funny sitcom shenanigans at any point to go look for octavia, but has to be reminded by blitz (sexily, for some reason) that they should go look for their daughters after the sitcom shit is cut short by accident. maybe via can't exactly be killed or hurt but literally anything else could've happened to her while she, a presumably quite sheltered teenager, was running around the human world for the first time by herself. she has to get a pep talk from a stranger (the daughter of her fathers affair partner, by the way) about how her dad might be a fuckup but totally loves her, despite having just spent the last afternoon fawning over blitz instead of worrying about octavia. this stranger is also the only adult bothering to look for her in any capacity. octavia would have spent the entire afternoon lost and alone if it weren't for loona being the only one to give a shit.
'what about my daughter', noticeably just kind of goes home with blitz after everything in mastermind and makes no effort to even call or text her. 'erm he was probably traumatised and exhausted-' literally everyone was just under the impression blitz was going to die. i'm sure they're all traumatised and exhausted. stolas lost his powers and his stupid ass house for a little bit, not even forever, over an affair he actively exploited a power dynamic to consciously have, not caring about how it effected his daughter, or the potential future consequences thereof. hitting the impeccable 'i wont abandon you my daughter who i definitely care about' then instantly forgetting she exists 2 seconds later because he of a hole he dug for himself. the point is he once again prioritises blitz over via. was it that easy to forget about her?
tangentially, if you want to believe that stella is an abusive mother (we haven't seen it in the show but i wouldn't be surprised if they wanted you to perceive it that way) then stolas is doing all of this while allowing stella to have octavia. alone, might i add.
via is objectively right to worry stolas is going to abandon her for blitz because he Does. she doesn't appeal to me as a character persay but her situation is miserable enough that i can't bring myself to really dislike her
#ask#helluva boss critical#confession i actually quite like the scene in ep 2 where stolas just kinda stumbles over#not explaining to octavia really whats going on#i think the fact he CAN'T really explain or defend himself#or maybe he doesnt want to? i think that's a neat little moment with lots to chew on#i actually really like that stolas seems hesitant to BLAME stella. he doesn't want to blame her to via. but also won't explain himself#how much does via know about the family? does she know the marriage was arranged? is it cowardice on stolas' part?#or is he trying to preserve her perception of a formerly happy family here? does he want her to keep that memory even if it was never real?#just kidding theres no satisfying answer and the character stolas was at ep 2 is entirely different to who he is now#and not in a character development kind of way#if you're a teenager upset at the only life you've ever known falling apart your stupid and will be electric chaired#for your crimes of um. being upset with your father for having a public affair and putting it in front of you
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obsessed with the fact that if you choose the last purple option in lucanis' romance chat before going off to tearstone island ("they MOVED the MOON!!!" still in the running for the best delivery in the whole game btw it's so ineffably hilarious to me), it's rook who flinches away just a little bit (if still warmly <3) and tries to change the topic and lucanis who's steady even though he's clearly still so afraid. 'don't tempt fate'/'*the softest fucking voice you've ever heard in your entire life* I don't intend to'. pain and suffering
lucanis looking at rook and helplessly, with a wonder that verges on despair, saying 'what would I do without you?' is soooo. especially at that point in the relationship and with what's about to happen. and for whatever reason rook can't quite stay with the fact that they do mean that much to someone, that they are so reverently and so groundingly 'I want to know what your favourite food is so I can make it for you any time you want it' everyday loved, it's too much and they have to deflect from it or the fear of losing it. can say some very interesting things about them, too.
(there is also a Pattern in that in my estimation lucanis frequently responds better to inviting humour than to earnest shows of concern -- it seems to help him be more engaged/online to be offered that more neutral space to meet you in and uh 'build' the conversation around something funny together than to be confronted with compassion head-on because that clearly mostly deer-in-the-headlights him, as we also see with some of the early flirt options haha. contrast this especially with bellara, who repeatedly gets genuinely upset if you try to make light of some pressing and painful situation she's dealing with (girl I'm so sorry I'm so jestercore and I canot change this but I'll try :'( for you). I think the times lucanis reacts negatively to the purple options are much more about you siding with other (frequently more charismatic lol) people against him or throwing him under the bus interpersonally -- like seeming to go along with illario's charm offensives, or telling teia lucanis didn't want to come help out with caterina's funeral and he'd just sit alone and brood about it if you didn't force him (???!!! hello??? unprovoked and deeply unkind out of left field???? this option is so fucking MEAN and for what fhdaskjfa you're telling me there's no way for rook to be a bit of a dick in this game?)
when it's one on one conversation he consistently seems to find it quite comforting, though... which makes a lot of sense because in many ways it's how he interacts with illario, just shorn of the resentments and hidden daggers and things they Do Not Talk About but really should beneath the levity that makes it sharp. it's gone ugly between them, but I think the affectionate instinct beneath is real and goes back a long way before all of that festered -- it's a form of play he does with people he loves. and uh. not really caterina huh. notably.)
#don't make promises you can't keep -> promise?/I swear pipeline of course also extremely good no bad answers here fhdska#this was just what absolutely wrecked me personally with rye and lucanis. they have fun together. just by being together :')#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#rook x lucanis#rookanis#to be clear I mix up the options quite a bit according to what works in a situation but this is the Overall Trend lol#harding appreciates a purple rook too and gets what's going on under it. even calls you out a couple of times#but never without affection. it's so sweet.#also interesting bellara and merrill contrast even though they of course do share a lot of elements#merrill too seems to find purple hawke mostly comforting ('how do you always do that? make everything better with a smile?#it's like magic that doesn't get you in trouble')#and well. merrill and lucanis ARE written by the same person and also share this trait big time with varric. I might be on to something lol#...fuck I can't believe we're never getting a mary kirby bioware character again. the games industry is a fucking nightmare
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Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~
(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)
#ootd#jfashion#fashion#fantasy fashion#mori kei#....like... adjacent... lol#no idea what style this would be lol.. makes me think of like whimsical vaguely fantasy themed childrens book character#finally posting one of my aforementioned seven million drafts of actual outfits and costumes i have finished and edited#the photos for but just never feel like posting lol..#I need to find one of those people whos like 'omg i am ADDICTED to social media ugh i wish i could get off of it#im just browsing and posting like 60 times a daaaaay!!!' and take a little magical bottle and suck some of the social media#enthusiasim out of them. for moi. In exchange they can have some of my 'literally just never in the mood to post or interact with the#outside world ever' energy. We can balance each other. huzzah and so on#Though I think maybe it's part of the general thing I've heard of like.. I can't remember if it was in reference to adhd or just some sort#of general execcutive functioning issue type of thing - but the idea that things have to be ''just right'' before you do something. like#'oh i need to do this task. but i have to wait until XYZ first' or 'oh i can do this but only if X specific condition is met' or etc#The fact that I even have to be in a Specific Mindset to post. or sometimes will delay posting on social media because like 'oh well#I'm going somewhere tomorrow. somehow this matters. i cannot spend 5 minuts posting TONIGHT. clearly it will interfere#somehow schedule wise with the doctor appointment i have 15 hours from now. yes. yes. i must wait until my appointment is over#tomorrow afternoon. THEN i shall post' or etc. etc. lol. NOT even taking into account the many days#I just genuinely and physically sick and it's not even a mental thing. I just physically dont feel like sitting at the computer lol..#ANYWAY.. trying to get back into it. trying to get a business bank account.. make a proper paypal so i can start selling sculptures again.#selling clothes and sculptures.. posting about such things then of course as one must. etc... chanting to hype up and motivate myself lol#But yes. this is my favorite outfit out of the bunch so I am posting it first I guess.. maybe others later..#Also the purple dress says its from shein. which I've heard is bad fast fashion stuff. but maybe okay since its second hand? I havent#been to the bins since like 2020 or late 2019 even. and I think stuff like shein and temu has only become poular in the past few years#but I bet if I went to the bins now I might would find a good handfull of that stuff. Probably now not much different than what you#find in a walmart or a forever 21 or actual physical stores you can go to though. I hear quality of clothing is down everywhere no matter#where you get it or whatnot. What bountiful joys unfettered capitalism and exploitation bestows upon us (<being sarcastic).#Wearing one of my favorite little vests though. I love the texture of it and the clasps on it
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‼️ART TRIGGER WARNING: Mild body horror/gore
Sooooo I kinda unexpectedly deviated from what I would consider my normal art preferences here. Mostly because I’ve seen a lot of talented artists drawing their own renditions of menacing Puzzles fanart where he goes fully insane and whatnot. I wanted to also contribute to that trend somehow…although it’s slightly out of my usual comfort zone << especially with his recent design change of loosing his whole lower body lol. Adapting that into my art was an interesting experimental challenge
Here is my own take on Puzzles falling apart! Quite literally! I still wanted to add a bit of empathy in here for him tho— because I’m going to be so distraught if WOTFI 2024 is his resignation from the spotlight for good. His final bow on stage if you will; the grand finale of his performance before he departs in death (MAN I SURE HOPE HE DOESN’T DIE BUT THE FANDOM SPECULATIONS AND PARANOIA ARE GETTING TO MY HEAD. And it just seems like the narrative progression is leaning that way). Well not matter what happens to him this upcoming Saturday…this tragic TV guy has impacted me in unexpected ways and I’m just so glad we got to spend and entire year with his character. And he’s sure not gonna disappear from my art anytime soon. Hopefully I won’t be maiming him ever again after this though jksjsksp he’s suffered enough angst for now <3
And here is just a black & white sketch version without the red overlay stuff!! Although it’s an older version so not everything is exact
#….guys should I post this on Instagram too or not I’m actally worried about this unintentionally scaring some people off#I’M SORRY NO WAIT COME BACKKKK NOOOOO /J#at least here I’ve got a community with variety of people that may find this cool to stare at#but on Instagram? my friends are for sure going to think I’ve lost my mind 🥲#I’m trying so hard to not judge myself or get self conscious or hide my art I’M TRYING#however when my brain decides to pull something like THIS outta the blue I start to question my life again lol#maybe visiting the Hana Lock art gallery today impacted me more then expected whoops#very skilled artist but she tends to do a lot of body horror as well#…..yea okay think I solved the culprit here#hplonesome art#tw body horror#body horrow cw#cw body horror#tw mild gore#smg4 mr. puzzles#mr. puzzles smg4#….still a tad worried about people finding it so thats the only tags I’m brave to put at the moment#even though I know it’s not the popular ones#might change it later though who knows!
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Soooooooooo I finished the weapons :D
I don't have much ideas for what to write in here so imma just drop the designs and continue suffering in school skkskskksk
First we gooooot
Bear Axe 2
@beartitled (apologies for the puns I couldn't help myself)
Then we have the comically large hammer
Le Bonker 1000
@insomniphic I'm kinda curious to see how would you lift ot ngl
And then we have the last weapon for Captain! :D
Captain's Staff
@braisedhoney
The staff was the most fun to draw tbh
Also I was this 🤏 close to fully shading the axe and the staff lmao
Anyway time for me to skedadle back into my cave before COL finds me /silly
- CR2868
#hmmmm what do i write in tags- eh imma just drop something and maybe add some later#hhhhhhh brain empty >:[[#fun fact: the staff was the most pain in the ass to make cuz i couldn't figure out how it would look and then when i figured it out it was#very fun to colour so imma probably draw few other weapons with this kind of hardlight blade#also very pretty#hmmm i dont have much time and i dont want to risk that tumblr is gonna post this twice-#tags speedrun time#i need sleep#my art#amari art#digital art#artists on tumblr#weapon#hive#now that i think about it ill try to doodle some hive sona shenanigans cuz why not#though i didnt draw anything for my Narrator lmao#also i was thinking about drawing attack variations for the weapons so i might doodle it later if brain won't go empty lol#hhhhhhh time for me to suffer again-#i hope yall like the weapons
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[Image Description: Two unfinished digital paintings / sketches of the hatchling and Hal from outer wilds. they are standing with their arms around each other and the hatchling has their head leaning on hal's shoulder as hal watches the supernova in the distance through the doorway of the museum. the first image is the scene viewed from behind with everything lit in bright blue with dark shadows. the second image shows hal's face looking in fear towards the light and is only partially colored, the rest sketched over a gray background. End Image Description.]
something you'll run back in for when the house burns down
#im going to post something on halloween but also want to post like sketch compilations and unfinished stuff#bc I draw alllll the tiiimeee and theres so much and its just going to get buried in my hard drive if I dont do anything with it#I'm so shy to post this but im in a good mood today so ok you can have the hal post#::) hal.#I wanted to finish these sooo badly and I still want to - it might take me completely reworking it again though :P#im scared this will become one of those pieces where i improve at anatomy more then look back at this one and be like. Gah what was I doing#honestly thats already happened. these are from several months ago#I kept their expression kind of neutral.. both because I dont think I could accurately capture the sheer dumfounded horror.#also because my heart will shatter into many pieces if I draw hal too sad#anyway the caption is a lyric from alone by tresspassers william#the album that song is from is called different stars and its one of my favorite albums ever ever <3 its very somber but I love it#this song doesnt even remind me of these two thaaat much#but theres other songs on the album that do more.. like vapour trail... and anchor oh my god. anchor...#and if you cant steer then it would be safer to drop the anchor 🤔🤔#ok I'm done talking now bye hal fans#outer wilds#outer wilds spoilers#very early spoilers. lol sub 23 minute spoilers#hal outer wilds#hatchling outer wilds#the hatchling#timber hearth#. I guess?
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you: nicholas alexander chavez, the actor from ryan murphy's recent work
me, a mama's girl and daytime tv viewer:
#text post#general hospital#nicholas alexander chavez#spencer cassadine#sorry i'm still not over my shock at this lol#i remember asking my mom MONTHS ago (she follows general hospital news online) 'hey wheres spencer i havent seen him in awhile?'#'oh his character died off. the actor is doing some netflix show where he plays a murderer'#and you have to understand. i dont consume anything to do w true crime. but to my 63-year-old mother. ryan murphy doesnt exist#so bc of just how self-contained the archaic institution of network soap operas are. i just. idk i didnt assume it was a big role#it didnt register to me that it was the sequel to the dahmer show. is what i am saying. and i never thought about it again#mommy made it sound like he might be coming back bc soap opera characters fake-die all the time#and so i put the thought out of my head until completely independently i was watching a video about monsters: menendez being flawed#and i was like. going absolutely insane w how familiar he looked i was like 'ok i know that man cant be too famous but i KNOW him'#'i know him from something and i know him WELL from something. like whatever hes from is iconic to me'#and then the video creator said his name and i was like THATS INSANE WHERE DO I KNOW THAT NAME??!?!??#it's a name i read in the credits but probably never thought in my head at all bc sorry he's just spencer to me#so i googled it and i was gobsmacked. i was like MOM DIDNT SAY he was gonna be in THIS SHIT!?!?!?#i also do lay my life down on the defense that the cinematography of a prestige netflix drama makes him less recognizable to me#who knew him best under cheap soap opera lighting in basic back and forth dialogue shots. like#i have to be honest i never cared for his looks on gh bc he just kinda looked like too perfect. like he looked like a mannequin#i see it now though i get it#i get why he's very fan editable to the true crime girlies i get it#not that it matters. im just in mourning bc it never occurred to me the spencer era was over. i actually liked his character#i cant tell u why bc he wasnt all that distinguishable from all the other basic dramatic character archetypes. idk it was a good performanc#i cant explain to u what makes a soap opera character distinct while still being completely generic (they all are)#i also liked his relationship w his girlfriend in the show it was cute. he was evil but they were sweet#nicky please come back. im begging u. as your only general hospital era fan who is your age#i dont wanna watch monsters menendez i reeeeeally dont
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Books of 2024: September Wrap-Up.
Delighted to report I am VERY far behind on my NaNo prep reading goals, and now September is gone (oops). However! This month I did manage to carve nine (9) pages out of a behemoth scene, write a newsletter article for the nonprofit I volunteer at, and alpha/hype read a friend's manuscript, so I still had a fairly wordy month (I say, as if all of my months are not Wordy™).
Photos/reviews linked below:
THE HAUNTED BOOKSTORE, Vol. 1 & 2 - ★★★½ These were cute! I liked them enough that I went ahead and ordered the next two volumes, and I'm glad I did--turns out there are only four manga in the series, so I'll have the whole thing :) I plan on returning to these after November/as part of Driscoll prep again, because they match the vibe I'm trying to channel really well.
CITY OF SAINTS AND MADMEN - ★★★½ (rating subject to change upon series completion) So on my shelf, this book doesn't LOOK like a brick, but it's 704 pages (according to Goodreads, because the pages in the back half of the book are not numbered sequentially lmaooo). It's told in several novellas strung together and then An Appendix full of all sorts of (sneakily?) relevant bits and pieces--fascinating anthology of a book, very meta-textual. It grew on me! If you can get through the first story, it's worth sticking with, and the whole series is turning into a puzzle box. And speaking of...
SHRIEK: AN AFTERWORD - 135/451 pages read; will report back later. I definitely had to dual wield CITY and SHRIEK last night to compare passages that are, in fact, duplicated across books, and I feel like the calculus meme about it. This one is structured interestingly, too: It's written by a sister (first person) about her brother, but the brother is annotating her manuscript in his own first person (in parentheticals wedged into or tacked onto paragraphs, also first person). I'm very excited to finish this, and equally excited to see what's going on with FINCH after that, so. Back to reading I go!!
Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~
Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. I am refining this as I figure out my wrap up posts (epiphany of last month: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:
★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).
★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).
★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.
★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.
★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!
★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!
#books of 2024#books of 2024: september wrap-up#the haunted bookstore#ambergris trilogy#jeff vandermeer#city of saints and madmen#shriek: an afterword#shriek#the more of these wrap ups i do the more i realized i picked THE ABSOLUTE WORST TIME TO START THEM btw#like i've definitely read 46 books so far this year total#so averaging more than one a week by a fairly significant margin#and YET: the past two months i've only finished three (3)#because i keep nerfing myself with bricks (le guin and vandermeer respectively)#and because i've figured out the writing groove again a little better lol#anyway i wanted to have already finished reading a bunch of my haunted house books so those could be marinating right now#but instead i'm staring at them several books out on my shelf still#so i might be taking a couple weeks to do a lot of reading and prep a book in two lmao#i might be able to do the human/earthling character prep now and just save the house for after i read more haunted house stuff#i want to be swimming in a sea of Ideas and i'm not quite there yet#making gr8 progress on the fungus front though so that counts for something#adhd really is feeling like you're behind all the damn time huh
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sometimes when i talk about race in media, in the back of my head im like "aaaghhhh am i just stating the obvious like im sure i just look like the annoying mixed race guy who just discovered water is wet or some shit" BUT THEN i remember that like. for most white people this stuff doesnt even cross their minds. like i forget. like this just isnt in their brains at all....
#like i dont even mean this in a gotcha way i just genuinely. its hard to imagine?#like i'll point out something to do with race in a movie or something that i think is just like the first thing youd notice about the theme#and how it affects the story and then a classmate or pal might say they hadnt even thought about it before.... like genuinely surprised....#again im just glad people are receptive but like. i didnt realize. just how like. little white people think about this sorta thing#i mean i guess i knew but like. it didnt fully click until the last couple years in art history classes LOL#me our teacher and the two other students of colour were like the only ones willing to even say the word race without getting uncomfortable#it was..... a little dire. im glad our white teacher really encouraged me and the other two to speak up on the subject though
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