#there wasn’t a day that went by where i didn’t think of how much i wanted to update

[your-local-simp-writers]

Puppy Love

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: None

Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It was a typical day after school, one of those rare moments when Damian Wayne wasn’t caught up in some sort of mission or training. The clock ticked loudly in the classroom as you stared at your class partner. Damian was sitting at his desk, meticulously packing up his things, his movements precise, as always. He had a habit of folding his papers just so, making sure everything was in perfect order before leaving. It was almost funny how much effort he put into something so mundane.

You tapped your pen on the desk, your mind bouncing with energy, as it always did. You had an idea, a crazy, spontaneous idea. The kind of idea you always had, but this time, you had to share it with him.

"Damian," you said brightly, leaning across the desk just enough to catch his attention. He glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if preparing himself for whatever your next move was. You grinned, already knowing what he was thinking. “Do you want to go to the fair?”

His brow furrowed. “The fair?” he repeated, clearly skeptical. “I’m not sure how that could be beneficial to anything.”

You waved a hand, dismissing his doubts. “It’s just a bit of fun. You know, something different. Besides, you can’t always be training or brooding, right?”

Damian looked at you for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, an exaggerated gesture you’d gotten used to. “I don’t see the point in such... frivolity,” he said, though there was an edge of curiosity beneath the words.

You didn’t give him time to think about it. You knew he would overanalyze it otherwise. “Come on, just for a little while. You could use some downtime, and it’s not like Gotham doesn’t need a break from your endless seriousness. You’re my class partner, right? It’s just a few hours of normal fun. You’ve done worse, I promise.”

You could see the inner conflict playing out in his eyes—the part of him that was trained to be a warrior, never wasting a moment, battling with the part that was slowly learning to open up to new experiences. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I will accompany you to this... ‘fair,’” he said, his voice still laced with skepticism.

...

The fair was a short drive outside of Gotham, tucked away just beyond the noise and chaos of the city. You could tell the difference immediately, as soon as the car tires left the paved roads and hit the dirt paths leading to the fairgrounds. There was a certain charm to the place, something rustic and simple, so different from the bustling streets of Gotham or the towering Wayne mansion.

The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the rows of booths, food carts, and brightly colored rides. The scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and music echoed around the fairground. It was the kind of place where people went to escape from the grind of daily life, to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy that came with a simple carnival game or a ride on the Ferris wheel.

You could see Damian’s unease as you both walked toward the entrance. His eyes darted around, taking in the overwhelming sights, sounds, and people. It wasn’t quite the same as the controlled environment he was used to. But you didn’t give him time to overthink it. You grabbed his arm, pulling him toward one of the booths.

“You’re going to love the ring toss,” you said with a grin, all too eager to get him involved.

“Ring toss?” he repeated, the skepticism still clear in his voice. “What purpose does this serve?”

“It’s fun,” you insisted, though you knew he wasn’t convinced. Still, you managed to drag him over to the booth. The game was simple enough—throw rings over bottles. It was a childish game, but you loved it, and you hoped Damian would catch on to the idea of letting go, even if just for a moment.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. "You really think I can waste my time on this?"

You gave him a sidelong glance and a teasing smile. "Well, it’s not about wasting time. It’s about... I don’t know, enjoying the moment."

He didn’t look at you, but he did take a few rings and line them up, aiming carefully. You grinned to yourself. Even when he was trying to act all serious, his precision couldn’t be denied.

With a flick of his wrist, one of the rings flew through the air, landing perfectly on a bottle. You raised your eyebrows, impressed.

“Nice,” you said. “You’re better at this than you let on.”

Damian didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he picked up another ring. “I don’t do things halfheartedly,” he muttered, almost to himself. “If I’m going to do something, I do it properly.”

You watched him, a strange warmth spreading in your chest. The boy was so driven, so serious, yet you couldn’t help but admire his determination. It was rare for him to let his guard down, and even rarer for him to admit that something could be fun.

Soon enough, you had won a small stuffed bear, and Damian had reluctantly agreed to take it from you. You held it to your chest, practically skipping to the next attraction.

“What now?” he asked, clearly still unsure.

"Let’s ride the Ferris wheel," you said, already making your way toward the line.

He didn’t protest, which surprised you. Damian was a creature of habit and control. He liked to know what was coming next, not to be thrown into something unfamiliar. But here he was, following you as you led him toward the towering wheel. It was slow-moving and simple, but you could tell the height of the ride was making him a little uneasy.

Once you were both in your seat, the Ferris wheel creaked to life. The world below you began to shrink, the lights of the fair twinkling in the distance, and the sky above grew dark as the stars started to emerge, one by one. You glanced over at Damian, who was staring out at the lights, his face unreadable.

“You know, it’s nice up here,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Don’t you ever just sit outside and stare at the stars? It’s so peaceful.”

Damian turned his head toward you, his expression stiff. “I prefer to watch... other things,” he said, his tone flat, almost as though he hadn’t really considered the question. “While I’m at it, I watch the bumper-to-bumper traffic and listen to the sounds of car horns and sirens.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his dry sarcasm. “That is exactly why I like to be in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no sirens, no deadlines. Just peace.”

Damian looked at you, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Peace,” he echoed, then gave a short huff. “I don’t know that I would describe Gotham as anything remotely peaceful.”

“Well, I’ll take peaceful over chaotic any day,” you said, your eyes drifting back to the sky, the colors of the fireworks beginning to light up the air. You handed him a stick of cotton candy, offering it with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think you could use a little fun, Damian. Maybe the world won’t end if you just enjoy the moment.”

He hesitated, eyeing the fluffy treat in your hand before taking a cautious bite. His eyes flickered back to you, his voice quieter this time. “Fun. I’m not sure I remember what that feels like.”

You blinked, surprised at the admission. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You were so used to seeing Damian with his walls up, his rigid control always in place, that hearing him admit something so vulnerable took you off guard.

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start remembering,” you said, your voice soft. “There’s a lot more to life than training and working.”

Damian didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he continued to chew his cotton candy in silence, staring out at the fireworks. You could tell, even without the words, that he was beginning to relax, if only for a moment.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, the fireworks exploding around you in bursts of color. It was a strange thing, this peacefulness, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Damian begin to melt into the experience. For once, he wasn’t the brooding, serious heir to Wayne Enterprises. For once, he was just a boy—your class partner, Damian—enjoying the simple joy of a fair.

As the ride finally came to a stop and you both made your way back to solid ground, you felt a strange warmth between you both, something unspoken but real. You hadn’t just taken him to a fair—you’d taken him to a moment where he could simply be Damian, and for the first time, he seemed to appreciate it.

“Not so bad, huh?” you teased as you walked side by side.

Damian glanced at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps... just this once.”

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Home ▪ Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to makes something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go. 

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now. 

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places. 

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table. 

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor. 

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?” 

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.” 

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book. 

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?” 

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him? 

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?” 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.” 

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go. 

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you. 

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.” 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.” 

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?” 

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?” 

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head. 

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice. 

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?” 

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said. 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist. 

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls. 

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.” 

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next -  put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath. 

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked. 

“If you want,” you laughed. 

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home. 

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[millyh23]

Just a Scratch

Leah Williamson x Reader

word count:

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It was supposed to be a peaceful day. The kind of day that Y/N and Leah loved, filled with quiet drives and lighthearted conversations. After a week of intense training, both were looking forward to a bit of downtime. Leah had suggested a short road trip to the countryside, and Y/N couldn’t argue—spending the afternoon together, winding through the rolling hills and quiet roads, sounded perfect.

Leah had parked her car in the apartment’s underground garage, as she usually did, a spot meticulously chosen to ensure her car was out of harm’s way. Y/N, however, wasn’t used to this kind of care with a vehicle. In the past, she had always treated cars like just another mode of transportation, never really focusing on keeping them pristine. Leah, on the other hand, was a different story—her car was her baby.

Y/N didn’t want to mess up the vibe. She wanted to impress Leah, to show her that she could be just as careful. But as she backed the car into the tight garage space, something went horribly wrong. Her attention had been elsewhere, distracted by the morning's conversation with her teammates. She hadn’t noticed the trash can that had been left in the corner.

The moment she heard the screeching sound—metal against metal—her heart plummeted. Y/N winced, quickly putting the car in park and getting out. Her eyes immediately went to the side of the car, where a long, deep scratch ran across the door.

Her stomach churned. She knew Leah loved this car. She had heard Leah talk about it with so much pride, how she’d worked hard for it, how she maintained it like a precious gem. And now… Y/N had ruined it. In that moment, a thousand thoughts raced through her mind—what if Leah was furious? What if she couldn’t forgive this? What if this was the thing that broke them?

Her palms were sweaty as she ran her hands through her hair in distress. She’s going to hate me. She’s going to break up with me. She’ll never look at me the same way again.

When Leah came back from running errands, she was in a cheerful mood, humming softly as she entered the garage. Seeing Y/N standing near the car, she smiled, but the expression quickly faded as she noticed the tense posture of her girlfriend.

“Hey, babe,” Leah said with a warm smile, walking over to Y/N. “Everything okay?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling like her throat was closing up. She could already see the disappointment in Leah’s eyes, even though Leah hadn’t said anything yet. She could hear it in her own head, the sharp edge of anger Leah would surely direct her way.

Y/N took a shaky breath and spoke, her voice small. “Leah… I think I messed up.”

Leah’s smile faded into a look of concern. “What happened?” she asked gently, her eyes scanning Y/N’s face.

“I… I scratched your car,” Y/N muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s pretty bad.”

Leah’s eyes flicked to the side of the car, inspecting the mark. Y/N immediately tensed up, bracing herself for the worst.

Leah didn’t say anything at first. Her brow furrowed slightly, but then, instead of the anger Y/N had feared, Leah took a deep breath and turned toward her, walking slowly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back anymore, and her words rushed out like a dam bursting. “I’m so sorry. I know you love this car. I didn’t mean to. I know it’s your baby, and I just… I didn’t think, and now it’s ruined, and—”

“Y/N,” Leah interrupted softly, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “Stop.”

Y/N blinked, looking into Leah’s eyes, surprised by the calmness in her voice. Leah stepped closer, brushing a few strands of hair behind Y/N’s ear as she searched her eyes with a tenderness that took Y/N by surprise.

“Look at me, babe,” Leah said, her voice still soothing, yet firm. “I’m not mad. I’m not upset.”

“But it’s your car!” Y/N cried, still feeling the weight of guilt. “You love it, and now it’s… I scratched it, Leah. I’m such an idiot.”

Leah shook her head, a small, reassuring smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “It’s just a scratch, Y/N,” she said, her voice calm, almost amused by how worked up Y/N was. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m more worried about you.”

Y/N’s frown deepened, confused. “Worried about me?”

Leah nodded, taking a step closer, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist. “I can tell you’ve been stressed lately. You’ve had a lot on your mind, and I can see it. But you’re letting something small like this eat at you, and it’s breaking my heart to see you like this.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped. “I just… I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I thought… I thought maybe you’d break up with me over something so stupid.”

Leah’s expression softened even more. She gently pulled Y/N into her arms, holding her tightly against her chest. “Don’t be silly,” Leah whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “I could never break up with you over something like this. It’s just a car. We can fix it. But if you’re worried about anything, I want you to talk to me about it. Don’t bottle it up.”

Y/N melted into Leah’s embrace, feeling the comfort of her warmth, her steady presence. “I’m sorry, Leah. I didn’t mean to… I just freaked out.”

“Babe,” Leah murmured, brushing her fingers through Y/N’s hair, “I’m not mad at you. I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m more concerned about your stress than I am about any scratch. We’ll fix it, together.”

Y/N looked up at her, her eyes slightly watery. “You’re really not mad?”

Leah smiled, leaning down to kiss Y/N softly on the lips, a gentle, lingering kiss. “Not at all. I love you, okay? And I love you more than anything, even if your parking skills need a little work,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N laughed quietly, wiping her eyes. “I love you, too. Thank you for being so… understanding. I don’t know why I thought you’d be so upset.”

“Because you’re a bit of a worrywart sometimes,” Leah grinned, her voice playful. “But that’s why you have me. To remind you that not everything is as big a deal as you make it out to be.”

Y/N smiled, finally feeling the weight lift off her shoulders. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Leah squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll never have to find out. Now, how about we go inside, relax, and forget about the scratch for a bit? We have a whole afternoon ahead of us.”

Y/N nodded, the tension finally gone from her body. As they walked back into their apartment, Y/N felt a rush of love for Leah, for how she always knew just what to say, just how to make everything feel okay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End.

[ilyrafe]

𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄. | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐

pairing: hitman!rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: none :)

word count: 1k

part one

taglist: @starkeyvhs @toterry @httpsdrewstarkey @gillybear17 @baby19sthings @zya8tracks

a/n: this is such a shitty chapter but please bear with me i had such a terrible creative block!!! god i hate it here

a stroke of luck.

when joshua was found, both rafe and y/n were far. well, rafe wasn’t that far, but she had really disappeared. the next day, rafe still wanted to send a message to her and let her know that everything was done, but that number didn’t exist anymore.

as a precaution, rafe was always around, wanting to know if there was any suspicion about joshua’s death, but apparently, everyone there knew that he was “a time bomb about to explode”. the neighbors saw y/n leaving with all of her belongings, so they assumed that he couldn’t take it and took his own life.

“i knew one of them would end up dead,” an older woman told a friend, and rafe paid attention. “and i prayed it wouldn’t be her, because she was a good person. he would get drunk and when she would say she’d leave, he’d threaten to kill her and then himself. i’ve heard their arguments!”

in the end, y/n received a good amount of life insurance for still being legally married to him. good for her.

and life went on, as it would. as it should.

rafe continued his infamous business of killing for money, and whenever someone contacted him, he was disappointed that it wasn’t her. as much as he didn’t want to admit, he always caught himself thinking about her and wondering how she was doing, if she was okay.

rafe has seen grotesque scenes that no longer bother him, but imagining joshua putting his dirty hands around her neck, or scaring her makes his blood boil, because he’s done it before with his own sister, and that’s his biggest regret. if there’s a heaven and a hell, rafe knows very well where he’s going, and he’s already come to terms with it, but one thing he’ll never do again in his life is to be violent towards another woman - any woman.

even a hitman needs to have some morals.

the fear in sarah’s eyes still disturbs him. when he goes to sleep, that’s all he dreams of. he relives the moment all night long, and then he drinks to forget it, but it doesn’t help - the image of him nearly killing his own blood is too much.

when he remembers that day at the diner, he can’t get the image of her out of his head - she looked so small, so defeated. deep down, rafe knows all of the answers to the questions he asks himself. he’s smarter than he gives himself credit for.

(...)

the life of a hitman can actually be very lonely, something rafe still struggles to deal with. every once in a while he goes for a walk in the park when his mind is going places he doesn’t want to go.

an autumn afternoon in chicago is like a scene from a painting, where nature’s colors are in their full, fiery splendor. as he steps outside, the air is crisp but not too cold, just enough to warrant a light jacket, with the occasional breeze that carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves. the city’s famous skyline stretches against a sky that shifts between deep blue and soft gray, as the sun begins its descent, casting golden light over everything.

he’s trying so hard to see beauty in things, to keep himself afloat. rafe is numb. not even the hardest drug can make him feel anything. sometimes he does admire the nature around him, and to see the blue of the sky, in its immensity, makes him realize that, in a good way, none of this is real. none of this means anything.

we are all just cells, wandering around.

the sounds of the city seem a little softer in the fall, as people slow down to take in the beauty around them. a gentle hum of traffic can be heard in the distance, while the occasional laughter of children playing outside or the sound of a distant train passing through the city adds to the ambiance.

rafe has always had a soft spot for children. well, not exactly children, but what they represent. a kind of purity that seems untouched by the complexities and burdens of the adult world. it’s in the way they see the world with wide-eyed wonder, where everything is new and full of possibility. their joy is spontaneous, like a burst of laughter that rings out without reason, simply because they are in the moment. their innocence is also in their ability to feel deeply, yet let go just as easily. they live in the present, their hearts and minds unburdened by the weight of regret or worry. oh, and their unwavering belief in the goodness of the world. that sense of trust in the world, in people, in their own ability to be loved and to love in return, is a beautiful, fragile thing, one that people often lose or forget as they grow older (rafe knows it better than anyone else), but can still glimpse in the eyes of a child.

he would give anything to feel that way again.

whenever he remembers his childhood, rafe feels a sense of regret, an overwhelming desire to find a way to go back in time. oh, if only he could. be a child with no real worries. run through the freshly mowed grass, stumble and fall, and be comforted by his mother.

perhaps his luck has run out. he’s managed to leave a life of crime behind and come out of it mostly unscathed, he can’t just think that he can expect to find love - any type of love - in the same lifetime.

while walking through the park, rafe notices a young woman sitting on the grass, enjoying an ice cream. she seems carefree, just in the moment, observing everything around her. as he walks, he manages to get closer to her and... oh my god.

it’s her.

it’s her.

with each step taken towards her, rafe feels his heart beat faster. a mix of anxiety and excitement for finally having found her, after a year.

he stops right next to her, with his hands on the front pockets of his jacket, and waits until she notices his presence. when she does, she looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“hi.”

“oh, my god. cameron?!”

i'd love to know your thoughts!!!

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

[girliism]

patrick taking you to his family’s lodge up in the mountains for winter break and a snow storm hits overnight.

you had been looking for to this since patrick mentioned it. you grew up in the west coast and had never seen snow in your life. the whole ride there you went on and on about all the things you were excited to do in the snow. patrick watched fondly as you yapped.

by the time you guys got there it was already dark. patrick had been driving for two days and y’all were ready to crash.

while the two of slept in each other’s arms, the wind outside had picked up. the tree branches rustled and the snow fall got harder. you woke up the next morning to a bed of untouched white snow that covered the ground outside.

“pat.” you whispered. “patrick, wake up.” you shook his body getting him to hum in response. “it’s snowing.” you were in complete awe as you watched out the window little flakes of snow falling and hit the ground. “we are in the mountains babe, there’s gonna be snow.” patrick mumbled. you rolled eyes, getting out of the bed and dragging patrick by the arm with you. “well get your ass up and let’s go play in it.” you smiled.

patrick would have liked a few more hours of sleep before you woke him up, but he didn’t complain.

you paced around the house pulling on two layers of pants at least three jackets, a hat and some gloves. “alright, am i missing anything?” you stopped in front of patrick for a second opinion. he laughed shaking his head. “no, i think you’re more than covered.” he zipped your puffer jacket up to your chin, placing a kiss on your forehead.

the second you stepped outside into the fresh snow you let out a childish giggle. patrick took in your giddy figure as you rolled around and made snow angels. patrick trudged over to you, holding out his for you to grab on to so he could pull you up to a standing position.

“we have to make a snowman.” you demanded.

the two of you immediately got too work. patrick worked on rolling a big enough bottom while you rolled up the middle. you had patrick pick up the ball you made to attach it to his so you could start on the head. “you know growing up i was really afraid of snowman’s after watching frosty the snowman.” patrick randomly blurts out when you were in the middle of placing the hat on the snowman. you look at him out the corner on your eye, smiling at the imagery of a little patrick deathly afraid in the presence of a snowman.

after adding some final touches, you and patrick take a step to admire your work. “that’s a damn good snowman.” you mumbled to yourself, pulling out your phone to take a picture not noticing how patrick had snuck off. you don’t know what he’s up to until you feel it. the impact of something hard yet soft at the same time and the sound of patrick’s laughter. “what the hell was that?” you turned around to see him standing there with more snowballs in his hand.

“can’t have a snow day without a snowball fight.”

you gave him a competitive look before picking up some snow and forming a ball for yourself. “it’s on.”

both of you ran around like children. laugh like screams echoed through the trees as you chased after each other throwing balls of snow. it got weirdly quiet as you looked out from your hiding spot. your heart beat and heavy breathing being the only things sounding in your ears.

“patrick?” you called out. “where are you” you spoke in a singsong manner, looking around. you couldn’t see him but he had a perfect view of you. he waiting until your guard dropped before rushing out tackling you to the snow. “ow, patrick.” you winced when your back hit the ground. “shit, did i hurt you?” patrick pushed himself up so he wasn’t resting on you as much. the real concern in his voice almost had you feeling bad for what you were about to do.

“hmm, no, not really.” patrick looked at you in confusion before he was met with a ball of snow right in his face. “you’re evil.” he shook off the snow, moving to lie next to you. “i’m sorry.” you laughed. “it was just too easy.”

you guys stayed out there a little while longer, making snow angels all over the yard before you decided to call it a day. your hands were cold and your nose was red and felt like ice, which you complain about promoting patrick to grab your cheeks and push his face towards yours, rubbing your noses together warming you up.

back inside, changed into fresh warm clothes you sat on the couch watching patrick light up the fireplace. “you have fun today?” he asked, settling down next to you. “yes, thank you for bringing me here.” you smiled up at him. “of course.” patrick placed a kiss on your nose then on your lips before turning on whatever movie you picked.

[dexastres]

anchor

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warnings : angst

wc : 777

english isn't my language, so please bear with me

2:00 A.M.

Jude lay in bed, restless, unable to escape his thoughts. Just like the night outside, his mind was clouded, each thought lost in shadow and silence. Sleepless nights had become commonplace for the young man because he was afraid to close his eyes, even for a second, knowing that this nightmare would come. It was always the same. It was haunting and ruining his hours of rest with images of her, wrapped in someone else’s arms. But this nightmare reflected his reality. Whether he was awake or asleep, Jude couldn’t escape it. He was tied to this reality. They went hand in hand.

He sighed and turned to the empty side of his bed, where she used to sleep. Four months had passed since their breakup, and her scent had faded from the pillow, a painful reminder of her absence. She was gone. She was no longer his, and she was happy with another guy. She no longer needed Jude in her life. She had found something better, away from the cameras, the rumours and the lies.

The young man sat on his bed, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Jude had seen this scenario happen before, but this time, he wasn’t crying. He used to hold back his tears, but now, whenever the feeling came over him, he would let them flow freely quietly, so his mother wouldn’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Jude regretted not fighting for her, for their relationship and for their friendship. The pain and hurt were unbearable, thinking about how he let her go so easily, and now he was paying the price.

“Why did I do that?”

His trembling hand reached for his phone. He scrolled through his messages. The latest were from his friends and teammates, asking if he was feeling better, since he looked tired during today’s training session.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He whispered again, rolling his eyes. The young man ignored them because he didn’t know what to say, other than to lie.

Jude sighed deeply and scrolled a little further before clicking on her contact. His heart clenched as he read their last messages before everything fell apart. He typed the words he wished he had told her back then, although he doubted she would read his messages. She had moved on and left him behind, lost in the memories of what they once shared.

“I’m sorry.”

“You deserve so much better. I regret everything.”

“I love you.” Jude took a deep breath. He knew better, but he didn’t care. Was he being selfish? Yes, but the temptation was too strong. He needed to hear her voice, even if it was from her voicemail. The young man brought the phone to his ear, feeling a knot in his stomach, and his throat dry.

“This is a terrible idea,” he thought, and just as he was about to hang up, he heard her tired voice.

“Hello?” Jude froze, holding his breath. He couldn’t believe she answered. “Hello?” she asked again. Jude opened his mouth, but no words came out. A storm of emotions rose within him.

“Hi,” he finally said in a barely audible voice.

“Jude? Why are you calling me at two in the morning?” he could sense the irritation in her voice, but he couldn’t blame her for it. She had every reason to resent him. “We haven’t talked in four months, and you’re suddenly calling me in the middle of the night. What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, sorry, I must have called the wrong person. That wasn’t my intention.” It was a lie, but he couldn’t let her know the truth. He didn’t want her to know how lost and miserable he was without her. He didn’t want her to know that he spent his days thinking of her, wishing he could go back and undo everything.

“So, um… how are you? I saw your pictures with your boyfriend. You look good together. Congratulations.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it didn’t seem to work. She could hear the pain.

Jude felt the tears well up, and this time, he silently let them flow down his cheeks. He was so tired of fighting when he had lost the battle long ago.

“Jude? Are you crying?” she asked softly. The young man wiped his tears before ending the call.

2:45 A.M.

Jude lay back on his bed, feeling emptier than ever, like a black hole expanding. Tears continued to flow like a torrent while his phone kept vibrating on his bedside table.

“In case you’re wondering, I’m not with him anymore.”

[infinite--92]

A Meeting for The Ages

After the encounter with the student at the conference, Miranda sat in her office late that evening, her mind still buzzing with the unexpected attention she had received. The way the student had approached her after the lecture had caught her off guard, but now, as she sat in the quiet of her workspace, she found herself replaying the moment over and over.

At first, she had been flustered and unsure, politely deflecting his personal comment, but now she couldn’t help but think about it more seriously. The truth was, she had always been so focused on her career, on her work and research, that the idea of someone showing interest in her outside of those contexts was entirely foreign. The feeling of being admired—genuinely admired, for who she was—was something she hadn't experienced much in her life. And that realization stirred something inside her.

The student had been respectful, genuine, and clearly attracted to her. Miranda felt a little nervous at the thought of exploring something outside of her comfort zone. She had spent so much time building her career and keeping her personal life at arm's length that she wasn’t sure how to balance it all.

But the more she thought about it, the more she found herself wondering: Why not?

The Age Gap Concern

One of the things that had initially caused Miranda to hesitate was the noticeable age gap between them. He was clearly in his early twenties, while she was in her late thirties. In a world where age could sometimes be seen as a barrier, especially in romantic or intimate relationships, she had started to question if he would truly be interested in someone older.

She had seen it before—women in their late thirties or early forties sometimes felt pressured to fit into certain societal expectations about age and relationships. The idea of being too old for a younger man had always lingered in the back of Miranda’s mind. She wondered if she would be seen as out of touch or too distant from his generation. Would he really want to date someone like me?

However, as the day went on, Miranda found herself thinking less about the gap and more about the chemistry she had felt in their brief interaction. The student had been warm, engaging, and made her feel seen in a way no one had in a long time. In fact, his interest in her seemed so genuine that it began to chip away at her insecurities.

A New Perspective

The more Miranda thought about it, the more she realised that the student hadn’t seemed bothered by her age. In fact, he seemed eager to connect with her, both professionally and personally. He hadn't mentioned her age at all, nor did he appear uncomfortable with the difference.

As she reflected, Miranda realized that the age gap didn’t really matter to him. He was drawn to her for who she was, not just her years. In his eyes, perhaps the maturity and experience she carried were exactly what he admired. After all, many people found wisdom and experience to be attractive qualities, and those things didn’t have an expiration date.

Maybe I’m overthinking it, she thought. Maybe this could be something good. Maybe it’s worth exploring.

Her mind settled on one key thought: Why not give it a try?

Reaching Out

A few days later, Miranda found herself drafting a text message to the student. She typed slowly at first, unsure of how to approach the situation. But after taking a deep breath, she sent the message with a sense of calm determination.

"Hi, it’s Dr. Hale from the conference. I’ve been reflecting on our conversation, and I wanted to thank you again for your kind words. I realise I might have been a bit reserved at the time, but I’d like to get to know you better. Would you be interested in grabbing coffee sometime?"

She read it over, then hit send before she could second-guess herself.

The Response

It didn’t take long for a reply. Within minutes, the student’s name popped up on her screen.

"Hi Dr. Hale! I’m so glad to hear from you. I’d love to meet for coffee. How about this weekend?"

Miranda smiled, her nerves easing just a little. The exchange felt light and easy, and for the first time in a long time, she felt the flutter of excitement. This was a new territory for her—something she had never allowed herself to explore before. But now, it felt like the right time.

The First Meeting

The weekend arrived, and Miranda found herself sitting at a cozy café, her heart beating just a little faster than usual. She was dressed casually, but still with an air of confidence—something she had been working on over the past few months. She couldn’t help but notice the slight thrill of anticipation that bubbled up in her chest.

When the student arrived, he greeted her with a warm smile, and for the first time, Miranda didn’t feel like the age gap mattered at all. In fact, it was clear that he was genuinely happy to be there with her. They started chatting about their interests, their work, and eventually, about her research. Miranda found herself talking more freely than she had in a while. The conversation flowed easily, and she found that her nerves had mostly disappeared.

They ended up talking for hours, sharing stories and experiences, and it became clear that they had a genuine connection. He was easy to talk to, respectful of her boundaries, and just as interested in her work as he had been at the conference.

By the time the coffee was finished, and the conversation began to wind down, Miranda felt something shift inside her. Maybe this could be the start of something new, something unexpected but exciting. For once, the thought of taking a step into something unfamiliar didn’t feel scary. It felt right.

As they parted ways, he gave her a warm smile. "I’m really glad we did this. I hope we can do it again sometime."

Miranda smiled back, feeling a sense of peace. "Me too."

It was only the beginning, but for the first time in a long while, Miranda felt like she was allowing herself to experience something new—something beyond her work, beyond her research, and beyond the walls she had built around herself. The possibilities felt exciting.

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Four)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of blood

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Summary: More sessions pass and while you learn more about the Joker, the pull you feel towards him grows stronger. Yet this time, it feels like everything is starting to change...

Previous part: Part 3

Notes: We back, and things are really picking up this time. Hope this distracts everyone who might be going through a tough time right now. <3 Things really pick up in this one, and I'm already excited to drop the next part lol. Have fun with this one!

With every session your infatuation for the Joker only grows.

At first, you tell yourself it comes from your want (well, need) for him to progress, both for the sake of actually seeing him healed and for the sake of your survival. Then eventually, you think it comes from the fact that his mind truly is incomprehensible, and you want to know what’s going on inside of it, want to crack open his skull and see every gear. But now, you’re not even sure what it is exactly that keeps you feeling empty anytime you’re not in a session with the Joker. You don’t know what you’re chasing anymore. Everything is just one big mind fuck.

Slowly, the Joker becomes more and more human to you. Where others still see some kind of raving, homicidal madman, you see a person. 

As your sessions carry on, you tell him more things about you, and you learn more things about him. He likes junk food. He is skilled with almost every gun known to man. He owns over thirty blades. His sleep schedule is so all over the place that he doesn’t even know what day it is ever. He prefers nights over mornings. He drinks his coffee with lots of creamer. Every fact you’ve tucked away in your mind and you’re not sure for what.

You like it when he tells you something personal about himself, but he likes when you do it even more. “I was a gymnast for a long time,” you told him once, much to his surprise. Even you hadn’t expected to get into that part of your life. “I had to stop once I started going to school, just got too busy, but I was real good at it.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” He said, grinning, and you figured he must be imagining you, usually so rigid, flying through the air. It sounded like a joke. You were surprised he wasn’t laughing. “So, you’re pretty, ah, light on your feet?”

You smiled to yourself, thinking of all the memories. It had felt so nice to throw yourself into all that hard work. When you were flipping in the air, you felt free. “Guess you could say that. Certainly hasn’t come in handy though, in my line of work.”

“It may come in handy with mine. You’d probably make a good fighter, Doctor l/n.”

The thought of you fighting anyone made you laugh out loud. Have you thought about fighting people before? Of course. All your life people have hurt you and you wanted to hurt them back. But in the end, you had decided that wouldn’t do any good. Now, however, as you kept imagining it, the Joker appeared at your side, and you were winning this fight, him laughing maniacally beside you. It sent a sort of thrill through you. You didn’t like it. “Luckily, I’m not in your line of work.”

He had winked. “You can always change your mind.”

Alongside learning bits of things about him, he also taught you a few new skills, probably antsy to test them out considering he’s strapped to a bed most of the time. He (as best as he could still cuffed to a table) tried to teach you to pick a lock, how to get a perfect shot with a gun, how to rig up TNT. It was nothing you needed to know, nor anything you thought he should be thinking about, but you went along anyway because it was best he knew you were there to support his interests. As dark as they were…. You’d work on that. 

After your last session, you decided to bring something up to Mr. Dale.

“Doctor y/n, your progress has been very minimal,” he had commented as you walked up to him, before you could even open your mouth.

You frowned. “It’s the Joker, sir. It’s not going to move very fast-“

“Well, I am tired of waiting. The longer he sits in that cell I fear the worse he’ll get, and then what? He snaps and tries to kill us all?” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. You wanted to smack him. “Is there any way you could hurry up the process?”

Don’t rush me, was what you wanted to scream, but that wasn’t going to get you anywhere but kicked to the curb. “I do think I have an idea,” you said, trying to direct him to why you came up to him in the first place. “You need to let me bring in his makeup.”

Mr. Dale’s eyebrows shot up. And, of course, he began to laugh. If it weren’t for growing used to the Joker doing it so often, it would really piss you off. “You want to turn him back into a clown? Miss l/n, I fear that would only encourage him.”

“First off, it’s Doctor l/n,” you point out sternly. You’ve had enough of him treating you like less. If there’s another thing the Joker has taught you, it’s to not take shit from others. “And second, I want him to embrace himself. If he can be this clown persona he sees him as, we can take this persona and shape it so that it’s less… violent. Then, the makeup will no longer be something he associates with villainy. Please, Mr. Dale, I know what I’m talking about.”

You smiled wide as Mr. Dale’s face fell, absolutely shattered by your words. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Alright, Doctor l/n, I will allow it however if it ends badly-“

“It wont.” 

“You’re getting too comfortable. It’s his fault, I’m sure. I was right, he breaks people.”

You wish you could grab him by the collar and pull him close, but instead you settle on a deadly glare, looking him right in the eye. “I’m not broken. J isn’t broken.”

“Well, you’ve changed.”

You scoffed and turned away. “See you later, Mr. Dale.”

You have changed. You’re not sure if it’s for the better or not.

—————————

For your session, you walk in with a gentle smile, the tubes of makeup in your bag clinking together. You’re going to keep it a surprise, for later in the season. You’re not really sure why you feel giddy, but you do. It sort of outweighs your exhaustion, you’d run to the store late that night to pick up the same paints the Joker was said to have used. And when the guards finally let you in through the door, your smile grows even wider at the sight of the Joker, who is already smiling back at you. Not just because of the scars, it’s an actual smile. At first, his smiles had been menacing, but now you feel they’re actually kind of… nice. “Well, hello, doll face. So lovely to see you again.”

“Hiya, Mr. J,” you respond, taking your seat. “How are you doing today?”

“You know me, Doctor l/n, your presence puts me in a much better mood.” He props his chin up on his fist. “You look beautiful today.”

The past few sessions, Joker has certainly grown more flirty. It’s not something you’re a stranger to, the other patients have tried their hand at it, usually to try and get on your good side, but it’s different coming from Joker. You know he likes to rile you up, but you can’t help but feel the words are mostly genuine. “I look like this everyday,” you point out, not wanting to show him how his words affect you. 

“And you are, ah, beautiful everyday, doll.”

“Mr. J, refrain from flattery, please.”

He bows his head, pretending to be upset like a kicked puppy. “Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Dr. l/n. You know I like to tease ya.”

“Some of the guards told me you’re allowed to roam around your cell now,” you say, trying to switch the subject before he can completely throw you off course. He’s good at that. “How are you liking that?”

“Hmmmm, well, I, ah, went from being stuck permanently standing in a small cell and now I can walk around the cell. Once you’ve walked it once you’ve, ah, seen it all.” He looks to one side of the room. “A wall there.” His head swerves to the other. “Oh, and one there too! What a surprise!” He chuckles to himself. Nothing makes Joker laugh more than his own nonsense. 

“So, not much better?”

Joker shakes his head. “Nah ah ah, not one bit. Can barely even make a ruckus too, the doors conceal all my banging and kicking and laughing. The guards can’t even get annoyed with me.”

You bite your cheek. “You really like being a nuisance, huh?”

“I do like to make people tick.” He wets his lips. “Especially pretty psychiatrists with sharp minds.”

Already, you can feel your cheeks warming. Embarrassment, that’s all it is. You, once again, try and take the conversation back to what you actually need to be in there for. “How about we get started, huh?”

Joker nods, smacking his lips together. Despite how much he licks them, they’re always chapped, the skin cracking. “What am I in for today? I feel we’ve talked about everything we possibly can.”

“And yet you’re no closer to getting out of here, are you?” You smirk at him as you bring out your clipboard. “I feel like I’ve been keeping it too light these past few sessions. I’ve learned a lot about you but you still won’t let me reach past the barrier.”

“What barrier?”

“The barrier between you and whoever you were before you became the Joker.”

His lips twist into a frown. Again, his past touches a nerve. “Dolly,” he warns, “I’ve told you, whatever came before doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the Joker. You won’t find anything past that.”

Once again, Joker is being a stubborn ass. As much as you enjoy talking with him, he also drives you nuts. “You’re saying your life started once Batman came to the scene?”

“He gave me purpose. What’s a joke without the punchline? Batman is the punchline.” 

“You were a child once, Joker.”

“Like most people, yes.”

“And how was your childhood?”

He ignores your question, grumbling as he stares at his cuffed wrists, rotating them as you sit there expectantly. You realize he’s not going to answer you and groan. So, he doesn’t want to dive into the past. You’re not going to force him. Prying was never the best way to go about things. You’d leave it alone again… for now. “Okay, sorry, Mr. J, we can move on. Is there anything that you’d like to talk about?”

Joker raises an eyebrow, not confused but suspicious. “You’re just gonna turn it into some kind of analysis moment, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. “Well, that is my job. But no. Just, talk to me.” You hold your hands together, resting your chin on them. “About anything.”

“Hmmmm.” He looks like he’s having trouble thinking of something. “I’ve been thinking about Batman.”

“B-Man.” Of course. “What have you been thinking about him?”

“Those last moments I saw him, his expression. He looked so shattered.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, and you’re sure your face betrays this but he goes on anyway. “Oh, I’d live for a moment like that again. Seeing Batman react to my schemes, it’s so pleasing.”

“Do you consider your vendetta against Batman more for yourself or on behalf of the people of Gotham?”

He points at you. “There’s the analysis question. You can calm down there, Doc.” Joker coughs. “Behalf makes me sound like mister tall, dark, and dorky,” he snorts. “I’m trying to pull back everyone’s mask, but especially the Bat’s. I mean I, ah, already broke down Harvey Dent.”

That makes you go still. You hadn’t thought much on Harvey Dent, or how what Joker did may have affected him. You’re not sure if broken is the right word. Maybe scarred. Figures.  “The explosion. Right.”

“Poor, poor Harvey Dent. Gotham’s White Knight broke right in half. All because of me!”

You frown. “Harvey Dent died a noble man, Joker. Batman killed him all because Harvey was trying to do good.”

Joker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Harvey Dent is dead? And Batsy killed him?”

Oh, fuck. You clap a hand over your mouth, shaking your head. You weren’t supposed to say anything. It was an accident, you hadn’t meant to let it slip. “I… no, I mean, yes but-“ you stumble to try and cover it up but there’s no going back. Joker knows. And, honestly, who cares? He was going to figure it all out eventually. You take a deep breath. “Yes. Harvey Dent is dead. Batman killed him and five other people. And then Batman… he disappeared.”

Joker shoots up from his chair, and it takes you aback, causing you to squeal. You instinctively push your back into the chair while Joker looms over you. You’re not sure what he’s feeling, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils fuming. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he hisses.

“I… my bosses didn’t want me to. They were scared of what you’d do. That this would inspire you…”

You wait for him to yell, to react violently, but instead he laughs. This time though, it isn’t a creepy giggle or a small chuckle, it’s a full body laugh, the kind that contorts his body. It sounds like it hurts. “Batsy killing people?” he chokes out. “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it-tah one bit.” He clutches his stomach. “Batman is a very hard person to break, believe me.”

“You… you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He would’ve killed me too, he had me in the perfect place to do it, multiple times. No no no, something’s wrong about this…”

Slowly, you loosen your posture, moving back closer to the table. You’ve never even thought that any of that mess could have been something made up. “I’m confused,” you admit. 

“Doll, do you know how hard I tried to get Batman to kill me? He won’t do it! He just won’t. He’s got his, ah, one rule, his precious little moral code. He had me in the perfect position to kill me so many times yet he didn’t take any of those chances. Yet now he says he’s killed off five people including Gotham’s little savior? Puh-lease. There’s more to this story than they’re letting up.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. Well, probably because you had no reason to. Joker knew more about Batman than any Gothamite did. You didn’t know much about him other than his attempts at stopping crime. Who were you to know Batman supposedly didn’t kill? You admit, it was strange that he had a streak of getting rid of criminals in ways that didn’t involve killing, then suddenly turned and killed a few people? “Are you sure you didn’t… break him?”

“No, if I did I’d know it. I’d feel it. The Bat is about as stubborn as me, doll. And now he’s in hiding?” He sniggers, a hand gently touching his lips. “Sounds like some kind of, ah, twisted joke. The Bat is hiding something.”

“I’m sure he’s hiding lots of things.”

“Whatever this is though I’m curious about it.”

Of course. You just ignited a flame in him. Idiot. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing they got nine lives.” 

The more you think about it, the more intrigued you are. Batman has always been shrouded in mystery for you. Was he good? Was he bad? And now it turns out his story is all over the place, that it doesn’t make sense? You kind of wanted to know now too. “Do you think it has to do with Harvey?”

“Only one way to, ah, find out.”

“Which is?”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Drive the Bat out of hiding, of course.”

There it is. Mr. Dale was right. You shouldn’t have told him. He was going to find out eventually but now was not the time. Shit. “J, you can’t-“

He cuts you off. “You don’t like the Bat, do you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then don’t you wanna know what his little secret is? It must be somethin’ real special if he’s, ah, abandoned Gotham. Doesn’t sound very heroic to me. Sounds rather dull.” 

You know Joker’s dead set on getting back Batman for his own amusement, but what of you? What reason would you want to go find him for other than to expose him? He locked up Joker and left him here to rot. He killed five people plus Harvey Dent. He gets to hide away while people still root for him, safe from consequences. Everyone else suffers. Maybe Joker has a point. “I’m just a psychiatrist working Arkham asylum, Mr. J, trying to seek out the Batman is far above my pay grade,” you finally say, snorting, trying to get the idea out of your head. “B-Man can’t hide forever.”

“You’re right. Because we’ll drive him out.”

“We?”

“Well, you like to do good, don’t you? Little miss Mother Teresa, over here. You’ve already offered me friendship. So come on, help me, help Gotham, help us all!” He shows you his yellowing teeth. “Or, are you not as good as you think you are?” He reaches out with his hands suddenly, moving towards you. They only reach about halfway across the table, stopped by his cuffs, but you still jump. “What’s behind that mask, dear? Tell me what you really want. Let. It. Slip. Every dirty detail.” 

You’re trembling now. Like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I… I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are, dolly. I can see it! I, ah, can sense the darkness looking beneath your white coat.”

What the hell was Joker going on about? That you were as rotten as he was? You weren’t. You had dark thoughts sometimes, yes, but you weren’t crazy. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t. You weren’t bad you- “I don’t know what you want from me,” you whisper.

As your voice gets quieter, Joker gets louder. “Is that it? You feel all fine and dandy in this shitty life of yours, locked up with me in this madhouse? The people out there don’t care about you, they don’t care about any of us. But you’re fine with it, huh? Like a little pet pooch nipping at their heels. You’re just being optimistic!”

“Joker-“

“Tell me,” he demands, “what you really want! I want to break Batman! I want to strip all of Gotham down to its rotting core! And you want to keep yourself beneath their boots? Dolly, please, you’re much much more than that.”

Heart thumping, you can’t take his words anymore. You stand up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table. “Fine! You wanna know what I want? I want to hurt every single person around here who has done me wrong! Every single person who ignored me or disregarded me, everyday I wish I could just rip them apart. I- I hate everyone. I hate this stupid fucking place because everyone treats me like shit and at first I was only trying so hard at this because I can harldy survive and they told me that if your sanity improved then I’d get a raise!” What is with you today? You clap your hands over your mouth, hands shaking. Fuck, Joker was going to be pissed. Oh, goddammit. “J… I- I didn’t…” You struggle to find the words, trying to keep looking him in the eyes. They give nothing away. He is silent. “Mr. J-“

Then, out of nowhere, he cackles. He throws his head back, neck exposed, and laughs into the air, the howls of his laughter echoing throughout the room. Immediately, you’re caught off guard. You can’t tell if he’s laughing because it amuses him or because he’s angry. Even when he calms down enough to look at you and smile, you still can’t tell, and you continue to shake. “Doll,” he begins through his laughs, “that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He doubles over with howling laughter again and you’re not sure if you should be scared or confused. “This whole time you just wanted a raise! So you took on little old me?”

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow it down. “I didn’t have much of a choice but yes… it was that or be fired. But I did really want to help you, Mr. J. Are- are you mad?”

“Mad? No! I am, ah, lovin’ this side of you. It’s so cruel.”

That certainly took a weight off your shoulders, and you finally took a long breath in. Fucking hell, Joker was confusing. Guilt still gnawed at you. “You’re right, I’m just as selfish as you say people are,” you mumble.

“Exactly,” he hisses. “But it takes guts to admit it, especially to someone who, ah, doesn’t exactly handle things very nicely.”

“I’m so sorry, J.”

“Don’t apologize. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Then I don’t know what to do now. You’re set on getting Batman out of hiding, I’m going fucking crazy right now, everything feels so weird.”

Joker seems to find the utmost pleasure in your unraveling. “Doll, what’s in the bag?”

The question takes you off guard. “What?”

“When you came in, you were all giddy, and I could hear something moving in your bag I haven’t heard before. What is it?”

Ever so perceptive. “Oh… uh,” you fumble through your bag, bringing out the three tins of paint. “Your paint. They… they let me bring it for you.”

Joker’s smile falters a bit, yet he doesn’t look upset, just surprised. “My paint… You really brought it for me?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

His voice dips low. “Put it on me then.”

Now that takes you by surprise. More than anything else that’s happened to you today.

The Joker is so guarded off, yet he’s inviting you in, allowing you to not just touch his face but apply his makeup. It feels sacred. This is a part of him that makes him not just recognizable, but feared. And here you are, being asked to put it on him. It’s so wrong it feels… right? It scares you.

“Are you sure you-?”

“Put it on me, y/n.”

If this is a test, you’re not exactly sure how to pass. But his look is unnerving and so you stand up, pulling yourself onto the table between you, a lump in your throat. You feel frazzled as you move close to him, bending your legs to the side of you as you settle on your thighs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can see every line of his scars, every wrinkle and crease on his face. “Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You grab the white paint to the side of you, screwing off the lid and taking a large glob of the substance.

You loom close to him, your fingers wet with white paint, waiting for a sign that he’s okay with this. You don’t dare breathe, scared that any movement, any sound, will shut him down. But to your surprise, he doesn’t back away, he nods. Keep going. Your fingers finally land on his cheek, right beneath his eye, and you gasp at how warm his skin is. Joker shows nothing on his face to reveal how he feels except for the way his eye twitches slightly at your touch, his cheek twitching along with it. As you start to paint around his face, everywhere but his scars and lips, you wonder if his reaction stems from a disdain of being touched or from not having been touched so gently in so long. 

“Mr. J,” you whisper, and you can feel your hands start to shake again but you quickly steady them. Once his face is fully white, you dig into the black paint. He notices this and closes his eyes, letting you rub the dark paint in circles until each of his eyes look like they’ve settled into two, painted voids. When he opens his eyes again, they’re still trained right on you. “What am I doing?” you ask to no one in particular.

Joker doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have one for you anyways other than the obvious. “The red now, doll.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Quickly, you grab the red paint and stick your fingers in, moving them towards Joker’s lips but stopping. Putting the makeup on his face had been intimate enough but… his scars? That was a whole different kind of territory. “J…”

“Do it,” he murmurs, and it’s so quick you still wait, your hand just in front of his mouth shaking. This had to be a test. Some kind of sick joke. “Doll, can you, ah, hear me? I said ‘do it’.” 

You want to protest, but for what? He made it clear what he wants. So, you begin to smear the red across his lips, moving first to the scar on his right, your entire body shuddering as your fingers touch the sunken in skin where the carvings were made, the mangled flesh around it, every bump and curve. You don’t understand why anyone would ever find these scars ugly. To you, the way they healed, the way they are a part of him, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about it.

Godammit, J is beautiful.

As you continue to smear the red paint, he looms closer. “Do you wanna know,” he whispers, “how I got these scars?”

“I…” Of course you do. Everyday since you’ve met him, you go home and you can’t help but see his smile. See those scars. And you can’t help but wonder how they got there. You imagine a blade ripping across his mouth, drawing so much blood it drips down his chin. You’ve imagined him screaming in pain. You’ve imagined him uttering not a peep as the blade pierces his skin. So many possibilities. This was the barrier you’d been hoping to jump. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“I can, ah, never get the story straight. It’s like a black hole, doll. A black hole in my mind. There’s so many ways I could’ve gottem, so many ways I think I gottem. What’s real? What’s not? Who the fuck cares?” Even with a furious growl in his voice, he laughs. “I can’t remember what it really was that did it. There was a horrible father. A wife who I tried so hard for. There was war, and violence, the mob, and so much pain. I’ve seen a lot. Maybe they’re all real memories, maybe they’re not, doesn’t matter! I hated the scars at first, I really did, but now? I embrace them because there is just so much to smile for. I’ve got so much left to do in this city. So much fun left to have. But there’s something I’ve been missing.”

You rub your thumb over his right scar, drawing in a shaky breath. “What is that?”

“I have all these plans, all these ideas and feelings over what I do and yet I’ve never thought anyone good enough to share them with. People, ah, will only be good to you for a while before runnin’ off with your secrets, it’s just human nature. I didn’t feel a kinship to anyone until you came along, Doctor l/n.” When he smiles, you feel the movement beneath your finger. “Look at you. So lonely. Letting everyone spit on you. Yet here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sure you imagined I could’ve killed you for keeping me along for a stupid paycheck, but you admitted it to me anyways. You are pulling back your own mask, right in front of me. You know you couldn’t fix me, right?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes at his words, guilt gnawing at you. “I wanted to try at first. But now… I- I don’t want to fix you. I like what you are.”

“That,” he growls, “is exactly why I’m so drawn to you. I know, doll, that you crave something more than what you have now, this world kicking you down over and over and over again. I know the feeling. You’ve got nothing and everything to lose. Yet you manage to smile amidst the darkness. You smile in the face of pure chaos.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumble. 

“I want what’s best for both of us, doll face. You were right. I do need someone by my side. As I was saying, what I’ve been missing this whole time, was you.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Me?”

He nods. “You stuck with me this long. Even for a paycheck, that’s somethin’ no one else would do. And yet the big Arkham bosses are out there now, laughing at the both of us. Ain’t that unfair?”

“Yes.”

“Doll, stick by my side, and we’ll let them all know just how corrupt they truly are.”

Your arms break out in goosebumps. Every word the Joker utters is dripping with venom, an edge to each syllable. You’ve tried to ignore him, the way he crawls into your rib cage, into your mind, finding your weaknesses, your dark desires and whims you push away. Yet here he is, getting you to reveal them, and trying to get you to go along with him. It’s working. “Let’s show them, then.”

You look down at your fingers, covered in red, and it almost looks like blood. 

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” With a curl of his finger, he gestures for you to move closer. You do, and he cranes his neck towards your ear. “If you really wanna help me,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, “then tomorrow is the day you get me out of this place.” Every t is pronounced as sharp as a blade. “You’re smart, doll, I know you can think of something.”

Breaking Joker. Out of Arkham. A few weeks ago, you might have grabbed your remote and hit the red button but now? You think you might just take him up on that. You move back to look him in the eye. “You won’t help me think of something?”

“I’m sure you’ve got something in that, ah, pretty mind of yours.”

You huff. “J, I’m serious. This is Arkham. It’s constantly guarded and protected. And I’m just me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You’re you, sweets. No one’s gonna suspect you.”

Oh fuck. He’s right. No one gave a shit about you. You’d fly right under the radar. That part was easy. But everything else? This wasn’t exactly your forte. You didn’t know what to do. “I’ll try my best,” was all you could offer.

He reaches his hand out, and at first you think he’s trying to grab you, but instead he goes after one of the paint tins. The red paint. Agonizingly slow, he removes the cap, getting his fingers wet with paint. “Doll, you and I are gonna make something special. I always knew you had it in ya. C’mere.” You tilt your face towards him, and Joker smears the red across your lips, a mirror of his own striking smile. “Don’t forget to smile,” he says.

“Never.”

_______________

Later in the night, Joker stares at himself in the reflection of the small, grimy window of his cell door. His face is painted exactly the way he likes it, maybe just a bit different, but he could care less. This, this person he’s looking at, is the person he is, the person you have given back to him. He touches his face and he can still feel your phantom touch, the way you had run your finger over his face, his eyelids, his scars. You hadn’t backed off, or avoided them, you had touched them so softly. Soft. You were soft. 

You made Joker feel soft and he hated it.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom getting rid of you. It would be easy, definitely. If things actually went well tomorrow and you managed to get him out of Arkham, he could easily kill you off. No one would look for you. And even if they did, helping him break out of Arkham would mark you a criminal, and Gotham would curse your name forever. But Joker doesn’t want to do that. Even the thought of your death makes him angry. He is used to wanting to hurt people, yet when he comes across you now, he feels… protective. He knows how the world hates him, yet somehow you showed him sympathy. No, even better, you were showing him loyalty by offering to help break him out. And if you really went and did it? God, he almost breaks into chills.

When he looks at you, he notices his body reacting strangely. His heart speeds up, his hands feel sweatier, his mind feels like it’s going to split right in half. This isn’t the kind of insanity Joker usually basks in, this is something worse. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. You were so good, and yet when you let your mask slip, Joker couldn’t help but feel pulled in even more. What lies beneath you is dark and spiteful, and Joker wants to see all of it.

You won’t let him down tomorrow, Joker is sure of it. 

A voice on the intercom comes through the crack under the door, crackling through the speakers placed along the hall outside. “Shutting lights off. Everybody get to bed.”

Joker grunts, moving to plant himself down on his metal “bed”. He’s not going to sleep though, how could he? Chaos was coming, and you were bringing it straight towards him.

________________________________________________

When you get home, you stumble into the bathroom, quickly turning on the sink faucet and drenching your face in water. You let the ice cold water drip down your face, crying out as you try and get a grip on things. Your fingers are still covered in Joker’s face paint, the water hardly washing any of it off. It’s like he’s on you forever.

Why, for fucks sake, do you almost want it to never wash off?

You look at yourself in the mirror now, the makeup that Joker spread smeared down your chin. This is you now. Mr. Dale was right, you have changed. But fuck it, it was for the best. This change, this thing radiating beneath your skin, it’s something dangerous yet powerful. It moves you. You’re not crazy, you’re insane. 

You can’t tell what this feeling is towards Joker. It almost feels like… love.

Love for the Joker.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker-

He was right. He was always right. People were going to walk over you all your life. You were tired of it. Nothing was going to change if you didn’t change it first. You couldn’t stand around and watch these people, with their pockets fat and their reputations swell, walk around with such pride when you knew they were all phonies. This city, your city, you’re going to unveil it. No longer will it crush you. You’re going to crush it. 

You were going to be Joker’s partner in crime. And you loved it.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[tmrwsuns]

xikers when you ask to tie a ribbon around their biceps

ᯓ the moment you even begin to suggest the thought of tying a ribbon around his bicep. minjae he has already agreed. his goal in life is making you happy, and (even more importantly) he loves to see how much you adore his body. he puts a lot of  work into it a (maybe solely for that reason), so whenever you make a praising comment towards the results he can’t help but feel a pang of pride go through his chest. he saw in this situation the perfect combination of your happiness and his ego inflating, and he wasn’t going to let that go. once you both agreed he makes it his priority to pick up a ribbon at the craft store the day after, eager to try out the trend you had suggested. when it finally happened, he smiled proudly as he listened to you gush about how his bicep looked flexed only for you. 

“hey jae?” you spoke softly, looking up from your phone. minjae sat on his desk, headphones partly on as he produced new music for the group. his attention immediately went to you, turning on his chair and smiling gently at you with a questioning look. “what do you think about doing this trend?” you asked, showing him your phone where the video replayed, a flexing arm with a ribbon around it being reflected on the screen. “we can do it if you want” he smiled. you had this effect on him ever since he met you where he couldn’t say no to anything you wanted from him, and that was a big factor to his answer. however, the pride he felt for the fact that you wanted him to flex for you was even a little more of an incentive. with a small squeal of emotion, you agreed that you would do it the next day, leaving minjae looking forward to it as he turned around and continued on with his task. once the next day finally arrived, minjae found himself sitting on his bed, arm flexed as you wrapped the pretty pink ribbon on it. you had an unwavering smile as you tied it in a bow looking proudly at your job, cheeks slightly tinted at the sight. “what do you think, baby? do you like it?” minjae asked, a smile evident in his voice. “of course i do, you’re arms are hot” you answered, looking up at him through your lashes. his smile widened at your words and he grew a little closer to you, eyes scanning your face and stopping at your lips. “and all yours, too” he said, voice low as he looked back into your eyes.  “is that so?” you asked as you grew closer, eyeing his lips for a couple seconds in return. “it is” he answered before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. you were so down bad.

ᯓlet’s be real, no one could even try to blame you for immediately thinking of junmin when the trend popped out in your for you page. you had a boyfriend with perfect arms and there was absolutely no reason not to take advantage of that. when you told junmin about it, he hesitated at first. don’t get him wrong, of course he liked it when you fawned over his body, specially his toned arms; but the thought of you maybe posting it made him feel a little flustered. of course, you told him he didn’t have to do it, but the slight disappointment in your eyes obliterated any thought of saying no to you any further. you jumped in happiness at his answer, wasting no time to go on.

“you know, i saw this trend in the morning that made me think of you” you commented as you sat around his room, simply spending some quality time together between your busy lives.  junmin arched an eyebrow in curiosity “yeah? what was it?” you smiled and muttered a little “ill show you” before pulling up the video, facing your phone screen towards him with a smile, your eyes focused on his reaction. “will you let me do that to you?” you questioned, and he immediately felt his heart skip a beat and his ears begin to heat up.  “why?” he almost stuttered, causing you to laugh softly. “you have such pretty arms and i want to brag about them” you answered, your lips curling upwards at his response. however, you noticed the slight uncomfortability on his face, which made you immediately speak again “its okay if you don’t want to, though, don’t worry about it” the rapid way you were speaking made junmin smile softly, admiring how you always seeked for him to be comfortable even if that meant him saying no to something you wanted. “ill do it” he interrupted you, making your eyes light up again. “are you really okay with it?” you asked once again, letting out an excited hum as he nodded. you went straight for your backpack without another word, grabbing the ribbon you oh so conveniently had packed and going back to your previous position. you waited until junmin flexed, your eyes focusing on the way his muscles strained and bulged on his toned arm, letting a few seconds pass by before snapping back into thought and moving to tie the fabric around his bicep. once it was done, you stared again, causing junmin (who was looking at your face throughout the entire exchange) to smile softly. his initial embarrassment had banished, now being replaced with a surge of confidence from the way you looked at him. “people are gonna be soooo jealous” you smiled and looked up at his eyes, earning a chuckle to come out of his lips as he shook his head at your antics. “sure, baby, whatever you say” he hummed.

ᯓ the moment you told sumin about your intentions when you appeared holding the pink ribbon in your hands, he groaned like you had just said the most ridiculous thing that had ever come out of your mouth. he was used to your delusional suggestions, and to be completely honest he didn’t mind them even a little bit. but he would never tell you that, of course. you both knew knew he would say yes eventually since he couldn’t say no to you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make you beg a little before. so that’s exactly what you did, enjoying watching you exaggerate how much you just loved his arms until he agreed, acting all defeated as if he didn’t love the idea.

the universe was definitely trying to tell you something. multiple videos of the ribbon trend had popped on your feed, which you constantly attempted to ignore in order to not create thoughts in your head. yet you understood you just had to when an edit of your own boyfriend appeared just under one of them. the way he flexed his arms on your screen made your brain (and body) tingle with feelings only sumin ever made you feel, so you gave into what the universe clearly wanted. you rummaged through your drawers before heading to your boyfriend's studio, finding him focused on the painting he had been working on for so long. sumin heard you come in and turned around, smiling at your presence and puckering his lips as his way to ask for a greeting kiss. “whats up, babe?” he asked once he got what he wanted, watching how a mischievous smile took place on your face as you held up the ribbon. “let me tie this on your arm? its for a tiktok trend” you asked, smile never faltering as he groaned. “why am i always the victim, were the hello kitty tattoos not enough for you?” he asked as he jokingly glared at you. he knew he would let you do absolutely anything you wanted with him, but that wouldn’t stop him from making you beg. “sumin, pleaseeee. i was watching the trend and then i saw this video of you and you have such pretty arms that they deserved to be shown off by your girlfriend that you love sooo much” you pressed, conjuring your best puppy dog eyes. your boyfriend sighed as he looked at you, turning around to get a rag and clean his hands from all the paint. “you know i can’t say no to you, don’t you?” he smiled, causing you to celebrate and pull out your phone. he proceeded to comply with everything you wanted him to do, watching you with a fond smile as you giggled at his toned arms. “i love you” you said once the video was taken, a smile on your lips as you watched his amused smile. “i love you more” sumin answered, stealing a quick peck from your lips before urging you to show him the video.

ᯓ look, jinsik is a complete sweetheart. he is soft hearted and can get a little shy whenever you show interest in his body majority of the time. still, he knows he’s fine and he loves that. he loves to see you fangirl over him and is completely conscious of how obsessed you are with him and his body, so he was not surprised at all when you told him what you wanted to do. he agreed fast, not having it in him deny because one, he couldn’t bear saying no to you; and two, why would he waste the opportunity to tease you when it was right there? the flush on his cheeks and rapidly beating heart had never stopped him from making you flustered, and they wasn’t going to start now.

“love?” you called out for jinsik’s attention. he was currently sprawled out on the floor of your bedroom, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as you laid on your bed. he let out a hum of acknowledgment as he put his phone down on his chest, his eyes travelling towards where your head peaked from above the mattress. “would you let me tie a ribbon on your bicep?” you asked, causing him to frown in confusion at the strange request.  “i mean, sure, but what for?” he watched as you looked for your phone on the bed, pulling up the video and giving it for him to watch. you looked for his reaction as he watched it, trying to decipher his stoic expression. “pretty please?” you chimed in, giving him a small smile. jinsik smiled automatically as he watched you, weighing his options in his head. he could either say no because of the slight embarrassment he felt at thinking that you would post that for the public to see or he could agree and spend a few minutes of his day with his girlfriend gushing about his arms while she ties pretty ribbons around them. there was a pretty obvious choice this time. “sure, pretty, let’s do it” you smiled triumphantly and leaped off from your mattress, going straight for a drawer where you were sure you could find some ribbon to carry out your assignment. jinsik smiled at the soft “aha!” that left your lips as you found a roll of the material, sitting up from his position on the floor and looking at you expectantly. you took a seat by his side and waited for him to flex his arm, smile widening impossibly much when he did. wordlessly, you tied the ribbon around his bicep before picking up your phone. “so pretty” you mumbled as you recorded and took a couple pictures, entirely too focused to notice the way he was smirking while looking at you, his heart almost beating out of his chest at the way you looked at him.

ᯓ as we all know and love, hyunwoo is a little shit (affectionately.) he loves being smug whenever you express your love/desire for him in any way, shape or form because that’s his way of coping with how much it affects him to have you outwardly gush about him. he ignores the pounding of his heart and the way his ears are heating up and acts out to make you feel like that instead; so when you told him about wanting to do that trend with him he took it as the perfect opportunity to tease the living shit out of you. of course, he agreed, but just because it gave him a perfect excuse to make you flustered. (definitely not because his ego grew about three sizes.)

“hyunwoo” you called out, attempting to grab his attention from the videogame he played on his computer. nothing. “hyunwoo” you spoke a bit louder. nothing. you knew he was doing it on purpose. he always left one of his ears uncovered when he gamed if you were around as his own little way to show you that he was still listening and paying attention to you. you sighed as you noticed why he wasn’t answering “babe?”  “yes, doll” he turned around on his chair, a smug smile on his lips as you rolled your eyes.  “would you do this tiktok trend with me?” you asked as you looked at him, your previously “annoyed” expression erased by the sight of your boyfriend's pretty smile. “depends, which one?” you looked for the video and pointed the screen at him, watching his reaction as the video played. “why would you want to do that?” he questioned, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “you have hot arms” you shrugged, attempting to maintain your cool and not give him what he wanted. hyunwoo raised his eyebrows at your response, taking out his headphones and rolling his chair towards you, now closer to your body. “do i? you’ve never said so before” he teased, making you groan. “never mind, i dont want to do it anymore” you stuck your tongue out to him, causing him to chuckle. “it’s okay, babe, i get it. i would want to show my super hot arms too��� he smiled as he jokingly flexed. “we can do it, come on” you smiled amused at his antics, standing up to find the ribbon you carried in your bag for your hair. once you had it you walked back to his chair, waiting for him to flex his arm so you could tie it around him and get the pictures you wanted. “i'm just irresistible, aren’t i?” hyunwoo gloated as he watched you. “and only yours, isn't that crazy?” he loved the way your cheeks tinted as you glared at him, sending his heart on to its own frenzy because he couldn’t even fathom how insanely beautiful his girlfriend was. he wouldn’t tell you that right now, though.

ᯓ junghoon is so incredibly unbothered that you had no idea of what he would answer when you asked him to let you do the trend with him. don’t get me wrong, when it comes to you he is anything but uninterested. you are everything to him and he would do anything you asked him to, even if he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea. that was what scared you, you didn’t want to push him to do anything he didn’t like, so you approached him with a bit of more shyness than he usually would. surprisingly, he was very on board with the idea. he liked the idea of you liking his body enough to think of him when you watched that trend, and he was more than happy to participate in it.

“hoonie?” you called out softly as you looked up from your phone, looking at your boyfriend who laid next to you as he read. he looked up from his book and tilted his head in question, making your heart melt into a puddle because of how much he had resembled a cat just then. “have you ever seen that trend where they tie a ribbon around their partner's bicep?” “i think i have, hyunwoo did it with his girlfriend i think” he nodded, the book he was reading now completely discarded as he gave you his full, undivided attention. “why?” “uhm, i kinda wanted to try it out with you” you explained, struggling a little to maintain the eye contact he so diligently held. “sure, do you have any ribbon?” he asked, agreeing as if it was nothing. you were a little surprised at how quickly he had complied, your heart melting even more than it already had. “i think i do, let me check” you smiled and hopped off the bed, not before leaving a sweet kiss on his cheek that left him smiling softly. junghoon watched you move around your room, rummaging through your drawers until you found the roll of ribbon you knew you had. you approached him with a big smile, waiting for him to sit up and flex his arm for you. once he did, you couldn’t help but giggle like a flustered little girl, watching your handsome boyfriend flexing his arm just for you.  junghoon watched you tie the ribbon around his muscle with a soft smile on his lips, waiting for you to do whatever you wanted to. “you’re adorable, did you know?”  his voice made your eyes travel back to his, light tinting on your cheeks. “yeah?” “yeah” he answered your question before laying back down and opening his arms towards you, his smile never faltering.

ᯓ a little shit (affectionately) pt 2. seeun absolutely adores making you flustered, he lives for it if you will. the capacity he has to make you get shy is outstanding, even when most of the times his insane confidence played into making you annoyed rather than flustered. you have a very playful relationship between you, which consisted in humbling each other most of the time, reserving the praises and affectionate words for special moments.  when you approached seeun with the idea of doing this trend he just knew this was his chance to get you to admit he was the most handsomest man alive (which you had no doubt about, you just liked humbling him.) so he made it his goal to hear those exact words come out of your mouth, even if he achieved it through annoyance.

you had been thinking about asking seeun to do that trend with you for a while now. naturally, when you had seen it for the first time you knew that you had to do it with your boyfriend or it would be a waste of his efforts at the gym. the only issue was that it wasn’t easy to ask seeun to do these kind of things. he had the tendency to tease you about the littlest things and you asking him to do something with his biceps was basically asking to be driven insane. nevertheless, your love for your boyfriends arms was stronger than his annoyance could ever be, so you asked him. “can we do this?” you asked as the video had conveniently popped on your screen. you were laying on the bed, your head resting on his arm as you watched your saved tiktok videos, a little ritual you had started doing when you were bored. “aww, you want to coquettify my muscles?” he cooed, a teasing tone present in his voice as he looked at you with a sly smile. “it sounds gross when you say it like that” you wrinkled your nose at his words. “but i just really wanted to do that trend and i couldn’t think of anyone else to do it with”  “of course you couldn’t, because you’re so incredibly in love with me and my hot body” he pressed further, incorporating his body onto his arms so he could look at you better. the sheer beauty of your face would never seize to amaze him, but that’s a topic for later. “sure, whatever. now, will you do it or not?” you tried to hide your smile, clearly enjoying the lighthearted nature of your banter. “i will if you admit I'm the most handsomest man alive” his words made your eyes roll and a groan escaped your lips. “i should’ve known you would act like this, so annoying” you teased back, acting as if you were to move on and look at your phone again. “don’t be like that, come on, let’s do it” he nudged you, eliciting a smile from your lips. you sat up and kissed his cheek rapidly before grabbing the ribbon you had brought in your bag and sitting in front of him. you waved at him to hurry, smiling about the opportunity. seeun rolled his sleeve and flexed his arm, allowing you to tie the piece of fabric on his bicep. you grabbed your phone to snap a couple of pictures, smile unwavering. “you’re the most handsomest man alive, seeun” you looked back into his eyes, just in time to watch him erupt into a cheer, causing you to laugh loudly.

ᯓ it’s no secret to anyone that yujun melts to putty in your hands. he loves making you happy, and that leads him to be the object of your silly little desires more often than not. he absolutely adores the fact that he is who you think of first when it comes to things like these, so the moment you tell him you want to do it he has already agreed. he is so happy and excited about it that he makes it into a full blown date to go find some ribbon you both liked, leading to a long walk to the craft store full of smiles and silly stories about his day. despite his cutie patootie nature, he can’t deny he is a gym rat through and through. he is proud of his body, he enjoys working towards his good shape and loves to see the results of all of his hard work. so when his pretty pretty girl also allows herself to fawn about his beauty outside of his cute demeanor? he could have a heart attack.

“yujunnie?” you called, earning a hum of acknowledgement from the boy. “have you seen the trend where they tie ribbons on guys' arms?” you asked as you laid next to him on your bed, his arm lazily draped over your middle as he rested his eyes, completely relaxed in your company. “i have, why?” he speaks, opening his eyes to be able to see your face, one of his beautiful smiles immediately taking place on his lips as his eyes found yours. “would you be okay with doing that? you have such pretty arms” you asked, voice relaxed as you caressed the arm around you, the sleeveless shirt he wore allowing you to see the entirety of his toned limb.  yujun couldn’t help but smile as you spoke, finding it adorable how you did little to hide your adoration for his body. “of course, we can walk to the craft store to get some later” he smiled “not right now though, im too comfy” he muttered and brought you back tighter to his chest, eliciting a cute giggle to come out of your pretty lips.  “sure, prince, whenever you want” you smiled and cuddled further onto his chest, relaxing as you took in his scent. hours passed before you finally went to the store, taking the long way there as you walked hand in hand with your boyfriend. your laughs could probably be heard from the other side of town as you listened to his stories about practice; bashing on his teammates bad habits as he quickly skipped past his own, making you roll your eyes in amusement. once you finally got home with a few strands of different color ribbons, you sat back on your bed. yujun flexed his arm for you like you had instructed, watching the way you ogled at them with a sly smile. “see? i told you so much time in the gym would pay off” he teased as you finished tying the ribbon, causing you to roll your eyes. “i never said it didn’t” you answered, grabbing your phone to take pictures as well as to record the video you wanted. “i forget sometimes, though” “what?” yujun couldn’t keep your eyes off of you for a second, too enamored by the sight of your pretty face to even consider looking away. “that you’re ripped, you’re so squishy” you smiled, taking your hands to his cheeks and squishing lightly. he chuckled at your action, taking your hand in his to bring it to his lips and kiss your palm. “i’ll have to remind you more often, then”  “keep going with the sleeveless shirts and I won't forget for a second.” you laughed, stealing a quick peck from his lips. “i knew the plan was working” he muttered all smiley before joining your lips again.

ᯓ let’s be completely real for a second. there was absolutely no way that this trend could exist without you dragging your boyfriend into it. you know it, his members know it, he knows it. in complete honestly, hunter was waiting for you to ask him if you could do that trend for a while now, knowing that you wanted to by the amount of times he had seen one of those videos play on your screen while you mindlessly scrolled. he wasn’t going to bring it up, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t hint at the fact that he would be more than happy to partake in the video if that’s what you wanted. with that said, when you asked him if you could do it, he agreed immediately and with no objections. he tried hard to contain his smile and not show you just how much he had been waiting for you to ask, but he could never keep a secret from you.

you were sitting down on hunter's lap as you laid on the couch, watching tiktok on your phone in hopes to cure the boredom of a rainy day when a video of the trend appeared on your screen. hunter smiled as he waited for you to speak, knowing that you couldn’t see him because of the position you found yourselves in.  “i always wanted to do that with you, you know” you mumbled, letting the video play. “really now?” he mumbled, doing his best to contain the humor in his voice. you shifted on his lap, looking at him with a soft smile. “yeah, can we?” you asked, doing puppy dog eyes like he didn’t immediately say yes to anything you ever asked for. “of course, princess. i think i have ribbon on one of the drawers” he smiled and kissed your forehead. what he didn’t say though, is that he had bought it the first time he had seen you look at the trend, knowing you well enough to know that the question would be asked eventually. you let out a small “yay” before climbing away from him to rummage through his drawers, looking for the ribbon until you found the small pink roll of it. you went back to your prior place one you had cut a long strand of it, waiting for hunter to flex his arm so you could get to work. once it was done you couldn't contain the small squeal at the sight of your boyfriend’s arm with the bow around it. hunter chuckled as he watched you take pictures and the video, enveloping you in his arms again when you were done. “wait… why do you have ribbon just laying around?” you asked curiously after a couple moments of silence. “let’s just say i know you well enough” he chuckled, making you smile and cuddle further into his body. 

ᯓ oh, yechan had been waiting for this one. the truth was that he had seen these videos before you had and he really really wanted to do it. he had even begun exercising his arms more often so he would be in his prime when the moment came. the only issue is that you didn’t seem to want to, because it had been weeks and you had not asked him nor even hinted at wanting to do it. spoiler alert, you whole heartedly did, you were just too shy to bring the idea up to him because you thought he would laugh at your face at the mere mention of it. so imagine your surprise when he was the one to bring it up, more as a whine than an actual proposal to do a simple little tiktok trend.

yechan had noticed that the trend had been spreading like the plague throughout the group. the way all the boys were flexing (see what i did there) about the videos their respective girlfriends had posted was driving him a little insane at this point, because he hadn’t been asked yet. he knew it was not an issue with his body, of course. he had worked his ass off to get to where he was today, and he deserved to have a pretty, girlie little ribbon tied to his bicep too, but it seemed like you didn’t think so; and he had had enough. you were sitting on your respective chairs in front of his monitor (yes, he got you a chair too), playing videogames as you normally did when you were bored. you were seconds away from winning when the screen froze, indicating that yechan had paused it and eliciting a whine from your lips. you turned to face him, about to complain about him being an absolute baby before being interrupted by him voicing his own complaints. “i think i have great arms, you know?” he spoke, causing you to frown in confusion.  “what?” you questioned, moving his chair as well so he could face you completely. “i have great arms, i work out a lot” he pressed, his eyebrows creased with what seemed like annoyance. “i know you do, babe” you answered, watching his face full of frustration, so very confused. “then why haven’t you asked me to do that stupid trend?” he asked, and then it clicked on your head. “the ribbon one?” you asked, your confusion slowly morphing into a slight smile. “yes! i’ve been waiting for you to ask and you haven’t and i don’t get why” he frowned, and you almost cooed at how incredibly adorable he looked. you stood up wordlessly, going towards your bag as yechan looked at you intently. were you really walking away from him right now?  his concerns dissipated as you sat back down, a long piece of ribbon in your hands. “i’ve been meaning to ask you, but i was too embarrassed” you explained, your smile a little shy, “i thought you thought it was dumb, by the way you talked about the other videos” yechan’s facial features relaxed immediately, overtaken by sheer softness. “i would never think anything you want to do is dumb, baby” he smiled, grabbing your face as he caressed your cheeks. “cute, will you let me do it now?” you smiled and kissed the palm of his hand before moving away, waiting for him to get into position. he rolled up his sleeve and flexed his arm, causing your smile to widen as you began tying the ribbon around his toned arms. when you were taking the pictures, inwardly giggling because of how good he looked, you realized something. “have you been working out more?” yechan’s face tinted a light red at your question, but he nodded sheepishly nonetheless. “maybe.. i wanted to look good on the video”  his words made you laugh, shaking your head as you moved forward to cradle his face, peppering kisses all over it “how cute.”

★ pairing ;; ot10 x reader

★ authors note ;; i took so incredibly long to write this its not even funny. anyways this is for my two pookies ILY.

★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng

★ back to the (temporary) masterlist.

★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

[rikiislvr]

✧ moonstruck - nishimura riki

pairing: nishimura riki x afab!reader

summary: you two haven’t spoke since senior year graduation, and didn’t end on the best terms.. until he spots you at the place he least expected

you swore yourself up and down you would NEVER speak to nishimura riki again.

before, you two were the bestest of friends, you could say you even managed to catch feelings for him in some way. he treated you with nothing but respect and love.

he offered everything you’ve ever wanted, even homework.

you’ve known him since freshman year, he was the first person you’d turn too whenever you needed ANYONE.

and that was what led you to ask him out, he said yes, and it felt like the best thing you could ever imagine.

but it wasn’t.

the day of your first date, you were told to meet him at a pretty empty park with tall flowers and lots of trees, you wore a pretty white flowing dress with your hair into pigtails,

you made your way to the spot that you were supposed to meet him at, and your heart has never dropped faster before,

there he was, but he wasn’t alone. he was with his.. ex?

she looked up at him, tears in his eyes, niki slowly cupped her face and pressed his lips onto hers, and that was what broke you.

you didn’t understand. why would he say yes to you if he didn’t have things settled with his ex yet. you knew of her, he would always tell you that he was over her thanks your help.

but it sure didn’t look like he was over at right now.

you covered your mouth to hide any noises, and failed miserably, niki’s head snapped back your way, his eyes softening,

“yn-“ he tried but you had already ran off and back home.

graduation came, you didn’t say a word to him, for some reason your heart ached everytime you even looked over at him, as soon as graduation was over, you said your byes to your friends before rushing to the front of the school where your parents awaited in the car.

before niki could find you and speak to you.

you didn’t care about closure, or.. that’s what you thought.

which leads to now. it’s been two year since you’ve heard from him, and let’s say you were doing too well.

your mind was constantly filled with him, every second of the day for two full years.

“i wonder what he’s doing now.” or, “does he have a girlfriend?” “how’s college going for him.” and so much more.

you sighed, closing your laptop, you took off your glasses and slowly got up, the sun was setting soon, you decided to go out and get some fresh air before the night arrived.

you walked to the closet of your small apartment, putting on your shoes, you wore a white flowy dress..

white.. flowy.. dress.. gosh everything reminds you of him. and that day.

you sighed, grabbing your tote bag before leaving out the door,

you made your way down the street, you didn’t have a specific place on where you wanted to go, you just had to get out your room before you actually went insane from thinking too much.

without even realizing it, you walked into a park, you smiled, liking the peaceful atmosphere, but something seemed familiar.

because it was.

you were in the park where you saw him, where you were supposed to have your first official date with him. but.. well, you know what went wrong.

you frowned to yourself and sat on a empty bench, staring at the flowers ahead of you, your mind was just full of him.

like you said, you didn’t care about the closure. but you did. you needed it, it was killing you that you didn’t ask him why he did what he did before storming out that school for the last time.

but, you were the only one who went on a walk.

niki had a grey hoodie on and sweats, airpods in and head down as he walked down the path of the, what he thought, empty park.

his thoughts were eating him alive, he was caught in such a bad situation and never had the chance to explain it to you.

he hasn’t seen you in two years, and it’s been weighing heavy on his heart.

you two were the closest ever, always hanging out after school, getting food or icecream, staying the night, you wouldn’t even notice during movie nights you’d fall asleep on his shoulder as he played with your hair.

he fell in love with you because it was hard not too with how close you guys were. and the first date was ruined before it even started.

he continued to walk, soft music playing in his ears, he finally lifted his head, looking around the peaceful park, his took a deep breath,

but his eyes suddenly stopped,

not on just anything, but on you.

he felt his heart drop, he completely froze and tensed up, you sat on the bench, your facial expression looked empty, compared to how smiley you were in highschool.

and he sighed, knowing it was his fault, he couldn’t fuck this up.

this was probably his last chance he would ever have at speaking to you, so he wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his hoodie before taking slow steps to the bench you sat at,

oh and yes, your heart dropped as well. you saw him in the corner of your eye, but refused to look over at him at all when he sat at the other end of the bench.

if anything, your eyes began to water, you thought you would never see him again after cutting communication with him completely.

you look down at your hands, what do you do in this situation?

before you could speak up, he beat you to it,

“yn…” he says low, which makes your heart ache, hearing him say your name again, you lift your head slowly, turning it to meet his gaze,

his eyes were low, they looked almost heavy, as if he wasn’t getting any sleep, and his expression was filled with concern and worry.

“niki..” you reply, your voice small, you were scared if you even spoke too loud he’d disappear. he sighed and stood up, holding his arms out.

you wanted to reject, but the way your body unconsciously got up and ran to his arms was what stopped you, you wrap your arms around him, not knowing how much you needed this hug,

you sobbed into his chest, niki’s felt his heart breaking, he wrapped his arms around you, tight but not enough to cause you discomfort.

knowing you were crying because of him, made him feel horrible.

“i’ve missed you so much.. i never thought id see you again.” he mumbled in your hair, which was what made you lift your head to look up at him.

you had tears streaming down your cheeks, your nose slightly red from sniffing, “why’d you do it..” you whispered, niki sighed and sucked in his lips,

“i don’t know. she was crying to me about some.. personal family problems.. she asked for just one kiss and of course.. i did it.” he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair,

you didn’t reply, i just looked up at him still, “i’m so sorry yn. im such a idiot for doing that.. i haven’t stoped thinking about you ever since.” he frowned,

you’ve never saw him frown before, and let’s just say, you didn’t like it.

“if i could go back in time and rewind the whole process, id do so with no hesitation.” he cups your face, “i broke your heart. which is what broke mine. i am so sorry..” he whispered,

you felt your eyes water again, you didn’t like the reasoning on why he kissed her, but you couldn’t stay mad at him since it happened years ago,

you melt into his hands, before slowly replying, “i forgive you.”

and niki could burst into flames just from that, he felt his heart connecting back together, “w-what..” he says, lower than a whisper.

“i forgive you niki. i can’t stay mad at you forever can i?” you smiled softly, niki didn’t reply, instead he pulled you back into his embrace, tears pricking in his eyes.

you hugged him back, you’ve been craving this for so long, you wouldn’t let it up so easily.

“please. give me another chance. i promise you i won’t disappoint you again.” he whispered into your hair.

and you couldn’t say no. you slowly nod in return and his grip on your tightened softly. both of you back to where you both belonged.

in each others arms, comforting each other. he was once your best best friend, and he still was. you were willing to forgive AND forget,

just one more try.. the universe brought you two back together for a reason, right?

a/n: i am so sorry for the lack of posts lately! so here’s a big fat drabble i made in two days for you all! hopefully you enjoy, and i am glad to say i amm backkk! <3

taglist : @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet

[muiitoloko]

Can you write something about Phil where he has an apprentice but not a young one, like someone a bit younger than him but not too much making some kind of reconversion and she is a bit awkward because maybe life wasn’t kind with her and she came back in her hometown with broken dreams and he is still the gruff character we know but in the same time he felt for her and of course she likes him too but he is always hard on her but finally when she has enough and decides to quit he tells her his true feelings and then there are a lot of fluff? I don’t know if it’s clear 😅

Title: Swept Away in Keighley

Summary: You returned to Keighley broken and defeated, but Phil's stoic presence and hidden passion reignite a fire she thought had long been extinguished.

Pairing: Phil Allen × Fem! Reader

Warning: None

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your order. I hope you like it.

Also read on Ao3

The soft hum of the broom against the linoleum floor was the only sound in the barbershop as you swept the clippings from the day’s customers into a neat pile. The shop was quiet now, the last customer gone, but as you moved methodically across the floor, you couldn’t shake the weight that had settled in your chest.

Keighley. The town had once felt too small, a place you’d dreamed of leaving to make something bigger of yourself. But life had a funny way of turning dreams to dust, and after years of trying to make a name as an actress, you'd found yourself right back where you started. With a sigh, you looked around the modest barbershop, feeling that ache of regret. This wasn't where you’d pictured yourself, sweeping hair in a shop instead of taking bows on stage. And it wasn’t just the shop weighing on you. It was him.

Phil. You tried not to think about him, tried to brush away the pull you felt every time you looked into his hazel eyes or heard his gravelly voice. But that was impossible. He’d been the first person to offer you a job when you returned, shattered and uncertain, and over the past year, you’d come to know him better than you’d wanted to admit. You were his apprentice, the one he sometimes barked at for not folding towels quite right or leaving a smudge on the mirror.

But his exacting standards had only made your attraction worse. You wanted to please him, to prove yourself, and with every muttered critique or disapproving glare, it only made you crave the impossible—a sign that he cared, that he saw you the way you saw him.

Just as you finished sweeping, the familiar click of the back door echoed through the empty shop. You turned, finding Phil standing in the doorway, his sharp gaze fixed on you, his expression unreadable as always.

“Still here?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. The sound of it sent a shiver through you.

“Just finishing up,” you replied, hoping he couldn’t see how your hands trembled as you gripped the broom.

Phil stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the floor before settling back on you. “You missed a spot,” he said, nodding to a patch by the chair.

You flushed, biting back a retort. This was his way, always finding the smallest things to criticize. “I’ll get it,” you muttered, bending down to sweep the few stray clippings he’d pointed out.

But as you straightened, you felt his presence closer than before. He was right there, standing just a breath away, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you. Your heart raced, heat rising to your cheeks as his gaze held yours.

“You’re distracted today,” he finally said, his voice carrying that same low, gravelly tone, edged with something you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t have a chance to respond before he went on, his words soft but pointed. “Thinking about that silly dream of yours again, are you?”

Your grip on the broom tightened, the handle pressing into your palm. The words stung, as though he’d sliced into the most tender part of you with barely a flicker of hesitation. The “silly dream” he referred to wasn’t just any passing fancy—it was the dream that had shaped you, that had once burned bright enough to pull you out of this town. It was the dream you’d risked everything for, even if, in the end, it hadn’t risked anything for you.

He sounded like your parents—disappointed, tired, scolding, as if choosing to chase a life beyond Keighley had been some foolish whim. Maybe they hadn’t thought you’d make it out of here; maybe they were right, because here you were, sweeping hair in a shop that didn’t feel like yours.

Phil’s gaze was still locked on you, his eyes sharp yet distant, and you found yourself unable to look away. “I tried,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I really tried.”

He sighed, the sound heavy, weary. “Not everyone’s meant to be a star,” he said, a slight edge of frustration in his tone, as though he was annoyed you hadn’t accepted this already. “It’s not all glitz and glamour. Sometimes, what’s real, what’s here,” he gestured vaguely around the shop, “is enough.”

But it wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough for years, and even now, the ache in your chest reminded you that it still wasn’t. You looked down, your gaze falling to the neat pile of clippings at your feet. It was just hair, discarded, forgotten—and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like you were staring at all the pieces of yourself you’d left behind to fit back into this town.

“Maybe for some people, it’s enough,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. You didn’t mean it to sound like a challenge, but it did, and the words hung between you, thick with things unsaid.

Phil’s face softened, just a little, and for a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—understanding, maybe, or regret. But he didn’t reach out, didn’t offer you comfort. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “Dreams have a way of fading, don’t they?” he said quietly.

You felt a lump rise in your throat, the weight of those words sinking in. “Yeah,” you murmured, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice. “I suppose they do.”

Phil watched you in silence for a moment, his eyes shadowed, his mouth set in a firm line. And then, without another word, he turned, leaving you standing there with nothing but the faint hum of the broom and the ache in your chest for company.

The next morning, you walked into the barbershop, the familiar scent of hair products and aftershave filling the air. Phil was already there, standing near the counter, his gaze fixed on the clock, arms folded across his chest. He looked up as you entered, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as they took in your appearance. There was something about the way he looked at you, something quiet and restrained, as though he was holding back more than words.

“Late,” he said, his tone curt, baritone voice rumbling low in the quiet of the shop.

You glanced at the clock yourself, confused. “Phil, it’s only five minutes.”

He let out a sigh, shaking his head with the kind of exasperation that felt heavier than it should have. “Five minutes is five minutes too many. I don’t pay you to stroll in whenever you feel like it. You show up on time, or not at all.”

His words felt like a slap, and you could feel your cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. This wasn’t fair. You were never late; you were always the first one here, sweeping up the mess from the previous day, folding towels, making sure everything was in its place. Today had been a rare exception, but apparently, Phil didn’t care. He didn’t see the effort you put in, the long hours, the attention to detail. He only saw the one moment when you hadn’t been perfect.

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat as you clenched your fists, resisting the urge to snap back. “It’s just five minutes, Phil,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Five minutes, ten minutes—it doesn’t matter. You think you’re special? That the rules don’t apply to you?” His voice had a bite to it, his words dripping with irritation. His gaze was hard, unyielding, and you could feel it piercing through you, leaving you feeling raw and exposed.

Your chest tightened as you stood there, his scolding washing over you, each word weighing heavier than the last. It was as if everything you did was wrong, as if you were constantly falling short. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you tried to prove yourself, it was never enough for him. And today, that familiar ache in your chest only intensified, the resentment simmering just beneath the surface.

Phil’s eyes flickered, but only briefly, and then his expression hardened again. “If you can’t manage to be here on time, maybe this isn’t the place for you.” The words stung, cutting deeper than you’d expected, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something you might regret.

But his words lingered in the air, sharp and unforgiving. You felt yourself bristling, the unfairness of it all boiling up inside you. You wanted to shout at him, to demand why he treated you this way. Why he always looked at you with that restrained intensity, only to push you away as if he didn’t care.

“Is that what you think, then?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a tremor there, one you couldn’t hide. “That I don’t belong here?”

He hesitated, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze softened. But then he shook his head, as if dismissing the thought, his jaw tightening. “What I think,” he said slowly, his voice dangerously low, “is that if you’re going to work here, you’re going to do it right. No more excuses, no more mistakes. I don’t have time for people who can’t be bothered to keep up.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, anger and hurt swirling inside you, threatening to spill over. You’d given so much to this place, to him, and yet he looked at you as if you were nothing but a burden, something to be tolerated rather than valued.

“You know what, Phil?” You forced the words out, your voice thick with emotion. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy tearing me down all the time, you’d see that I actually care about this place. About you.”

His eyes widened, but he quickly masked it, his expression hardening even further. “You think I asked you to care about me?” His voice was harsh, biting. “This isn’t about feelings. It’s a job. You do it, or you don’t.”

Your chest tightened, the frustration welling up inside you. You couldn’t tell if it was anger, or the hurt that felt like it was suffocating you, or that simmering, unspoken desire you both seemed to dance around but never acknowledged.

“You know what?” you said, your voice trembling with barely-contained emotion. “I’m done. I quit.”

Phil froze, his eyes widening just a fraction as he stared at you, clearly not expecting your reaction. For a moment, the anger in his expression faltered, replaced by something that looked almost like shock—or maybe fear. But then, just as quickly, his face hardened again, his arms dropping to his sides as he straightened, his gaze sharp and guarded.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice low, though a slight tremor betrayed him. “Go ahead. Leave.”

But you didn’t move. The silence between you stretched, heavy and thick, as the anger and pain settled into something else, something deeper. You met his gaze, refusing to look away, your own hurt mirroring his, your hands still clenched at your sides.

Phil’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “You think it’s easy?” he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, rough with something raw and unspoken. “To stand here and watch you every damn day, knowing I can’t have what I want?”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. He took a step closer, his hazel eyes searching yours, his hand coming up to rest against the doorframe as if to steady himself. His expression was intense, filled with a longing you’d only ever dreamed he’d have for you.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “how hard it is for me to keep my distance. Every time I look at you...”

Your breath caught as he reached up, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that took your breath away. His touch was warm, rough, but gentle, and you felt a shiver run through you as his thumb traced the curve of your jaw.

“Phil,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as his hand dropped to your shoulder, pulling you closer until your bodies were just inches apart. “I’ve tried to push you away, tell myself it’s just a passing fancy. But it’s not,” he muttered, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t want you to leave, love. I need you.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened, filled with a hunger that had been building between you for far too long. His hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your back as if afraid you might slip away.

Your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, every unspoken feeling pouring into the kiss. His mouth was warm and demanding, his lips moving over yours with a passion that sent a thrill through you, igniting every nerve.

“God, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he muttered against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch hot against your skin as he pressed you back against the door, his body pinning you there as he kissed you with a hunger that left you breathless.

You gasped as his lips trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “You drive me crazy, love. Can’t get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try.” His hand slid lower, gripping your thigh as he pulled your leg up around his waist, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that was rough and desperate, filled with all the pent-up desire he’d been hiding.

And as you melted into his embrace, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this small town, this modest barbershop, held more than you ever thought it could.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Three)

Summary: He didn’t truly know if he was the only one of his kind, but he’d never met any other infected that seemed even remotely conscious. They were all just mindless husks enslaved to the brutal whims of the virus. And he had been slowly but surely turning into one of them, before he’d found her. His little dove. Word Count: 3176 Warnings: still no smut, flashback to semi-graphic noncon which can be skipped, the section is in italics with the middle and end marked by a singe asterisk (the triple asterisk denotes a POV change as usual) Notes: This is by far the shortest chapter in this fic as it currently stands. I am thinking of doing a double update today to make it up to the few of you who read this, whoever you are XD let me know if that is something y'all would like. AO3, Masterlist

Ghost’s little dove seemed determined to get herself killed.

He hadn’t felt so afraid since he’d been bitten, when he saw her run into the cabin without so much as peeking inside first. And then her scream—God, her scream. For once, he was glad he couldn’t sleep, because he knew it would haunt his nightmares if he did.

The infected that was trying to eat her was dispatched easily, though not before it got unacceptably close to taking a bite out of her pretty face. He immediately crouched down to check on her, thinking of nothing but making sure there were no bites hidden beneath her clothes. He didn’t consider how she would feel about him touching her—and he didn’t consider how he would feel, either.

She was so warm.

He could feel her body heat even through her long sleeves and his gloves, and it was addicting. He wanted to pull her close and press her against him, to let her warmth chase away the cold that lingered in his very bones ever since his undeath. And he almost did just that—but then she shrieked like a banshee and kicked him, clearly trying to get away. It hadn’t hurt, he couldn’t feel pain anymore, after all, but he’d let go instantly anyway, backing away and trying to apologize. All that came out was a wet gurgling noise though, so he stopped, just silently looking down at her where she still sat on the floor, staring up at him with so much fear and confusion that he would have given anything to be able to comfort her.

Johnny would know what to do, he thought, and once again, he couldn't help but wonder just who this Johnny was. It was the only name he seemed to recall, from before. And it was only after he’d found his little dove that he'd remembered it, remembered the name that went with the disjointed sense memories of bright blue eyes, a deep Scottish burr, and the scent of clean soap.

“You’re real. You’re real, and you’re not eating me, and you’re— you’re protecting me. How? Why?”

His dove’s words brought him back to the present, giving him a spark of hope. She finally understood that he wasn’t going to hurt her, that he was keeping her safe. He groaned quietly in agreement, to let her know she was right and not just imagining things, but he was unable to answer her questions. He didn’t know how he had managed to hold onto pieces of himself, after his death. All he knew was that he was one bloody stubborn bastard, always had been, and always would be. He liked to think that that had something to do with him managing to fight off the virus, at least a little bit.

As for why he was protecting her… well, he was lonely. And he was fading, succumbing more to his instincts with every passing day in isolation. He wanted human companionship so fucking badly, and he could already tell that it was helping him remain himself. He felt more present, more alive in this moment than he had since the day he’d been bitten.

“You... Do you understand me?” His dove whispered after a moment. She sounded like she knew the answer, but he groaned softly in response anyway, awkwardly jerking his head up and down in a nod. His jaw wobbled grotesquely as he did, and he reached up to steady it, not wanting to disgust her any more than he already had, not when they were finally making progress.

She sucked in a sharp breath, big brown eyes growing impossibly wider. She looked shell shocked, and Ghost didn’t know what to do to change that. He’d never gotten this far with a human, before…

“Are there more like you?” She asked haltingly, after a moment of tense, heavy silence. “That— that are— whatever you are?”

Ghost carefully shrugged his shoulders, but at the same time, he held his jaw in place, and then jerked his head to the left, to the right, and then back to the left. He didn’t truly know if he was the only one of his kind, but he’d never met any other infected that seemed even remotely conscious. They were all just mindless husks enslaved to the brutal whims of the virus. And he had been slowly but surely turning into one of them, before he’d found her. His little dove.

“Oh,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. It drew his attention to the pale, bruised column of her throat, and his clouded eyes zeroed in on her pulse point. He could hear the thrum of her heartbeat, just underneath her soft looking skin. Her blood would taste thick and sweet on his tongue, he knew, and it would be so warm, as warm as she was. He sniffed deeply, groaning softly at her scent, and he felt drool pool in his mouth and leak out, down his chin. That, along with his dove’s small flinch, snapped him out of it. He quickly wiped the drool away, feeling embarrassed.

Slowly, she got to her feet, wincing as she stood up straight. She tried to dust off the dirt on her clothes, only to look distinctly horrified when she realized that black, congealed blood from the zombie that had attacked her now stained the stiff, pale pink fabric. She gagged when she accidentally touched it, and for a second, he worried she would throw up. She couldn’t afford to lose the little food left in her stomach, not when he knew for a fact she hadn’t eaten since before he found her.

He grumbled quietly, bringing her attention back to him, and then slowly moved towards the door, so as not to startle her. He picked up the corpse as he did, bringing it outside and moving it out of sight. He returned quickly, only to find her peeking out the door, watching for him. If he could have, he would have smiled. It was clear that at least part of her didn’t want him to go.

That part didn’t stop her from retreating rapidly as he approached, still maintaining a two metre distance from him at all times. He closed the door behind him as he re-entered the small cabin, then moved past her, deeper inside. He checked the single, tiny bedroom, but it was clear, just like he’d expected. He did find a thick quilt folded neatly over the end of the bed, and he picked it up, bringing it back to his dove.

She was in the miniature kitchen area, now, all the low hanging cabinets flung open to reveal bare, dusty shelves. She was currently trying to climb onto the tiny sliver of counter space to reach the higher ones, and Ghost growled disapprovingly. She startled, whipping around to look at him in fright. He held out the blanket as a peace offering, simultaneously moving closer. After a moment of hesitation, she snatched it from his stiff fingers and then backed away from him once more as she wrapped it around her shivering form.

Ghost opened the cabinet that his dove had been reaching for, and let out another growl—pleased, this time—when he found a solitary can of what he assumed to be beans, based on the faded picture on the label. He couldn’t read the words on it, and the reminder of how thoroughly the virus had destroyed so much of him made the hollow space in his chest ache faintly.

Once again, he offered the supplies to his little dove, and this time, she accepted it a little more graciously, a little less like she expected it to be a trap. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his gloves, and he suddenly wished that he wasn’t wearing them so he could feel her warm skin against his own.

“Thank you.”

The words were so quiet, that without the virus’s enhanced hearing, he doubted he would have caught them. But he did, and his foggy eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. She didn’t notice how happy she’d made him, though, too busy pulling back the tab of the can and scooping beans directly into her mouth. She moaned in pleasure at the taste—clearly, she was even more hungry than he’d thought, if a can of cold beans caused that reaction—and a low sound grumbled deep in Ghost’s chest as a very human emotion stirred inside him in response. He stood there in shock for a moment as he watched her suck her fingers clean, before it faded into self disgust and he jerked his gaze away, walking back to the door to stand watch, like a good dead guard dog. Because that was all he could ever offer her, his sweet little dove. That was all he should ever want. To protect her. Not to fuck her. He was a revolting, decaying monster—his outside finally matched his insides. She would never have desired a beast like him even before, and she certainly wouldn’t now. He was depraved for even thinking about it. Perhaps the virus had twisted him in more ways than he thought…

***

Lelia devoured the can of cold beans like it was the most delicious meal she’d ever tasted—and she grew up eating at michelin star restaurants regularly. But she hadn’t eaten in days, and she was starving. Andrew had always taken half her rations, claiming she didn’t need them anyway if she was going to stay thin and pretty for him. Lelia had stopped getting her period soon after, and at first, she’d been terrified that he’d finally managed to get her pregnant. But the test she’d managed to get her hands on had come back negative, and no other telltale symptoms had cropped up. She’d finally worked up the courage to ask one of the other women on the base about it, and she’d given her such a pitying look before telling her it was probably due to starvation. 

That was when Lelia had realized that how Andrew treated her was no secret, to the other people on the base. He must have realized it soon after, too, because that was when he’d started trading her body to the soldiers for bigger rations and longer shower times.

That was all she had been worth. A little extra food and a few more minutes of hot water…

*

It had been only a month since the dead started walking, but already, Lelia wondered if those who died in the initial chaos were the real lucky ones.

She’d thought her life was difficult before, as Andrew’s wife, when she’d been living on a large estate, constantly draped in the finest jewels and dresses, sleeping in the most comfortable beds, and being waited on hand and foot by a host of servants. Yes, Andrew had been cruel, the bruises on her body and the constant ache between her thighs were testament to that. And no, she hadn’t had a lick of freedom, not even allowed her own cell phone, or to leave the estate without his permission. But that was nothing compared to the utter hell her life had become.

She and Andrew now slept on a bed hard as a rock, and the food they were given to eat was limited and flavorless, if not outright disgusting. They had no household staff to do all their menial chores for them, and their lives had been stripped of all the conveniences and luxuries they’d both always enjoyed. Lelia had struggled greatly to adapt, but Andrew had taken things much harder.

He was angry all the time now, and he had nothing to do other than take his frustrations out on her by either fucking her or beating her. Nothing she did could calm him down anymore, all the tricks she’d learned to do so were now worse than useless. Even still, he held up appearances whenever they were around other survivors. Which was why she hadn’t been expecting him to do this.

They stood outside the Sergeants’ barracks. There were three of them, she believed, but she’d never interacted with any of them, as Andrew didn’t like her talking to other people, especially men. He had been trying to become friends with them, as he often complained to her about the privileges the soldiers got, and how he wanted in. He hadn’t been successful, though, with his father’s money now unable to compensate for his lack of charm.

So Lelia was quite confused as to why they were here, and why Andrew had such a grim but determined look on his face.

Nonetheless, she played the part of dutiful wife, her hand in Andrew's as she waited patiently while he knocked on the door. When it opened, showing all three sergeants inside, Andrew turned to her, cupping her face in his hands, and looked at her with… not remorse, but maybe regret. Like he didn’t feel bad about what was about to happen, but wished it hadn’t gotten to this point.

“Tonight, the good Sergeants here are your husbands,” he told her, words heavy with meaning. “Do you understand?”

Lelia did. Lelia understood very well. But she shook her head anyway, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’ve been good,” she whispered, heartbroken. “Please, Andy, I’ve been good!”

“So be good again tonight,” her husband said, voice hard, before kissing her forehead and letting her go. He turned to the soldiers, looking unhappy but resigned. “Use condoms, and be careful around her stomach. I’ve been trying to get her pregnant.”

Lelia wanted to scream as the soldier closest to her took her arm in his big, meaty hand and dragged her inside the room. But she said nothing. She couldn’t make her mouth work, because she wasn’t inside her body. She watched as the soldiers took her all night long, one after the other—even all at the same time at one point—but she didn’t feel a thing. Not until the next morning, when she returned to herself. Her whole body was in terrible pain. She was on the cold floor, naked and covered in dried semen, as the sergeants snored next to her in their bunks. Lelia got up slowly, gathering her clothes and carefully putting them back on. Then, she left, wandering the halls with a pronounced limp and a dazed expression on her face until she ran into one of the other soldiers, an Officer. He grimaced at the sight of her, gently taking her elbow and leading her to one of the toilets. He wet a rag and gave it to her, letting her clean the semen off her face—she’d not even realized there was any on it—before bringing her back to Andrew, who was passed out in their bed, an empty flask next to him.

It would not be the last time her husband let the soldiers use her.

*

Lelia sucked in a shuddery breath as she set the empty can down on the tiny, two person table in the kitchenette, shoving the memory away viciously. She immediately grimaced and wrinkled her nose, casting a glance at her new undead… companion. He smelled awful, like rot and decay and death. The beans she’d just eaten almost came right back up, and she covered her mouth and nose, trying to hide her impolite reaction. She’d smelled him before, of course, but now that she actually had something in her stomach, it was all too apparent just how difficult being around him was going to be.

Would she stay around him? And when had he become a him and not an it, anyway?

Probably around the time you realized there was something still left in there of the person he used to be, a voice inside her head responded to her unspoken question. The thought made her sad, and she felt a wave of sympathy for her zombie. She couldn’t imagine what his existence was like, stuck in a body that was falling apart, feared by the only people who could understand him, and unable to talk to them, to tell them he meant no harm…

“What’s your name?” She asked him quietly, almost taking a step forward before she thought better of it. He still smelled, and she still needed her meal to stay down. Getting closer would only tempt fate more than she already was by remaining in the same room as him.

Her zombie looked at her slowly, and though there was no expression on his masked face—she was unsure he could even make one, with his broken jaw and missing lips—she still got the distinct impression that she’d surprised him. She immediately felt bad. He’d saved her life twice now, three times if she counted the food and blanket, and she was just now asking his name. She should’ve done so the moment she realized he was helping her.

Her zombie lifted one arm up to his neck, grasping something and then pulling it up over his head before holding it out to her. A silver chain with a set of dog tags dangled from his gloved fist, and Lelia inhaled deeply through her mouth before walking forward, holding her breath as she accepted them from him. She retreated quickly, trying to suck in air as subtly as she could while she wiped the grime from the dog tags with a corner of the tatty, checkered cloth that was laid across the kitchen table.

“Riley, Simon A.,” she read aloud. Beneath that was his rank information—Lieutenant. She looked up at her zombie, and gave him a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant Riley.”

Her zombie grunted, jerking his head back and forth hard. His jaw quivered from the force of it. Confused, and a little bit afraid, Lelia backtracked.

“I–I’m sorry, do you not want to be called that?” She asked nervously. All the soldiers back on the base, or at least the ones she talked to (meaning the ones her husband lent her to) insisted they be called by their proper rank. Though whenever they used her, they demanded she call them Sir… Lelia swallowed, feeling the beans threaten to come back up for an entirely different reason. She wouldn’t call him Sir. She wouldn't.

Her zombie approached her, seemingly agitated, and Lelia flinched, taking a step back. He stopped, watching her for a moment, but didn't come any closer. He just pointed at his dog tags again, and Lelia looked back down at them, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his name and date of birth. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw the year he was born—1981, he was the same age as her mother—but she didn’t let herself get distracted. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, before trying again.

“You want me to call you Simon?” She half guessed, half begged. When he nodded, she let out a relieved sigh, her small smile returning. “Okay… let's try this again, then. It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

[johndonneswife]

[j-esbian]

thinking abt how much of my life i’ve lost to depression and i truly want to throw up

[fingertipsmp3]

Had a dream last night that two of my best friends came to stay with me and also Mabel was alive 🥹