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♱ sum. you and jack are old friends, and he wants to show you what halloween’s like at the local carnival. like buddies, of course! …right? !male reader, mlm, fluff, self indulgent, mutual pining, slow burn, forbidden love *gif by heybinary
masterlist playlist
Out where you grew up, Halloween came and went like dry wind over the prairie. No costumes, no tricks—just dirt roads, early nights, and horses steaming in the cold. Folks cared about keeping the lights on, not carving pumpkins. And if you ever did carve one, it rotted quiet on the porch before November came.
You’d grown out of Halloween before you’d ever won your first rodeo.
You should have known that once your old buddy Jack found out—a slip-up over the drag of a cigarette—you’d never hear the end of it.
Especially not now that the carnival had rolled back into town.
“You,” Jack simpered, molasses grin easy on his lips. He leaned in your doorway like it was built for him. “Are comin’ with me.”
He held up two white wristbands, mischief shimmering like whiskey behind his eyes.
“Jack…” you started, scrubbing work-worn hands over your face. Stubble was starting to scratch at your palms.
“Ah-ah. It’s Halloween!” He hooked his fingers around your wrist like it was the easiest thing. “Grab your boots, cowboy. We’re goin’.”
“I gotta get up early,” you grumbled, already bending to put on your work boots—your only pair. “You should’a told me you were comin’.”
“You’d’ve just said no,” Jack grinned, grabbing your hat from its hook and palming it onto your head. “I’’ll get ya home safe in good time. Please?”
Jack was worse than a kid, with all his restless energy and puppy-dog grin. You—despite everything—had never figured out how to say no to him.
Not even after the years spent side by side in dusty arenas and rodeo chutes.
“…Fine.”
🕸️๋࣭ ⭑
When you rolled up to the fairgrounds in Jack’s green pickup, you could smell the hustle and bustle from your cracked window. The sway of hay-dust sweetened the air with kettle corn and candied apples.
Strings of orange-purple lights looped along the fence posts, dancing against the setting prairie sky. The Ferris wheel turned lazy in the distance, bulbs flickering like fireflies.
“You ready?” Jack grinned, the mole above his lip catching against the gold sunset. His fingers drummed restless against the steering wheel. He knew you needed a beat to brace yourself before crowds like this.
You let out a tired sigh, smiling soft. “Yeah, alright.”
He was giddy the whole walk inside, tossing off little jokes as his broad shoulders bumped against yours. His head whipped back and forth, watching the carnival with eyes sparkling like a kid’s.
“It’s just like when I was a kid, really! Oh, man… I still can’t believe it’s just the same!”
He gazed back down at you, with that same awestruck look.
Like he couldn’t believe you were here, either.
You shook your head, grinning despite yourself. “Oh, yeah?”
Jack looked like he was trying not to jump up and whoop, he seemed so happy. Bursting at the seams.
“Oh yeah, bud.”
You hmphed, a lot more quiet in your contentment than he ever was. You looked down to pull out a crumpled pack of Kools, and you noticed Jack’s rodeo belt buckle gleaming in the honeyed light. You hadn't come to see him ride, not in a long while, not since…
…not since the night under the stands, four months ago, when everything changed. When you kissed him like you were desperate, drowning, dying—trying to pull him inside of you—and he kissed back like he’d been waiting for it all along.
“C’mon,” Jack said, suddenly tugging you by the wrist toward the game stalls. “Bet I can win you somethin’.”
“Last time you said that, you damn near busted your shoulder throwin’ horseshoes.”
He smirked, already digging a few shiny coins from his pocket. “Different game.” He pointed to the ring toss. “This one’s all skill.”
“Sure it is.”
Three tries later, the bottle still sat smugly untoppled, and Jack’s cocky grin had wilted into a scowl. He leaned on his hands against the stall, powder-blue eyes on fire with that stubborn determination.
You bit down on a laugh at the absurdity of it, of him—until his gaze cut sharp at you, making you cough out a chuckle.
“Hell with it,” he muttered, tossing the man another quarter. “Ain’t leavin’ ‘til I win my boy a prize.”
He did, finally; an ugly little stuffed bat with crooked wings. Jack held it out like it was pure gold, eyes crinkled with triumph.
“Aha! See? Told ya.”
You stuffed the ugly thing in your jacket pocket, looking down at the gravel so you didn’t have to look into Jack’s eyes.
You couldn’t have him see how your chest went tight when he smiled at you like that.
You opened your mouth to speak, but the thin layer of hay-dust kept you from saying anything. It was like rope, frayed and ragged in your throat.
“Hey,” Jack covered for you. “There’s a haunted house, down ‘ere.”
“Yeah,” you gulped. “Yeah, okay.”
The haunted house was nothing more than an old shack, painted over with drooping ghosts and half-washed pumpkins. You couldn’t tell if the sign on the door was misspelled or just written that badly. Fake spider webs were slung over the top, though it looked like the type of place you’d find cobwebs just as real.
Two little boys tore out the back, screaming and laughing. The sun was just dipping under the grass, casting the sky in rivers of purple; the end of dusk devouring daylight.
“You think there’s ghosts in there?” You asked, your voice lighter than usual.
“Pfft. Says haunted, don’t it?” Jack swaggered his way up to the door, all bravado, the same way he was when he was walking up to ride saddle bronc. “Try not to scare yourself to death.”
“Speak for yourself,” you murmured, pushing past him to walk inside.
Jack caught up to you past the entryway, and it wasn’t so bad save for the fact it was so dark you could hardly see for anything.
Jack hovered just near you, his shoulder bumping yours.
“Sure you ain’t scared, cowboy?”
“Aw, hell,” you heard Jack try to play it off, but you remembered how he hated the dark; how it got to him. It made him feel small and alone in a way he’d never admit. “If anythin’s gonna spook me, it ain’t gonna be no—Shit!”
A man in a cheap wolf mask lunged out, growling. Jack yelped and grabbed your wrist, jumping like a startled horse. His fingers locked around your sleeve like a lifeline.
The jump faded quick, embarrassment settling in its place. Jack’s ears burned pink as his grip eased.
But he didn’t let go.
“...What was that about spookin’ you?” You grinned. You couldn’t help yourself.
You heard Jack chuckle, his breath right by your ear. “Don’t you say a word.”
His hand stayed on your wrist as you led the way through the narrow halls. He jumped at every cheap skeleton and fog machine, and your laughter grew louder with each one. By the end, the two of you were laughing so hard you were stumbling over each other, tears springing from your eyes as you doubled over, breathless.
—
It was nearly midnight when the crowds thinned and the music faded. The stars were shining like someone had punched out holes of the night and let heaven bleed through.
You were walking from the midway back to Jack’s pickup, candied apple half-eaten in your hand. You made a mental note to pay him back that nickel—though he’d never take it.
“I got one more thing…” Jack said, grin turning sly.
“Mmm?”
He produced a small pumpkin out of seemingly nowhere, holding the thing in his palms and grinning like a thief.
“Jack Twist, you stole that.” You never liked the idea of stealing—but you weren’t a rat either.
“Borrowed!” Jack corrected, swinging himself over into the bed of his truck. “We’ll return it… Carved.”
You climbed up after him, pulling your legs over the side and sitting beside him.
“You’re looney.”
But Jack just smiled, flicking open his pocketknife and wedging a flashlight between his teeth. He held the knife out to you, handle first.
“I’ll hold the light,” he said around the flashlight. “But I get a turn, too.”
You carved the pumpkin together; clumsy and crooked, jagged eyes and lopsided teeth, laughing so hard at the mess of it that your sides hurt.
When Jack set the candle inside, the glow washed over his face in soft gold. He looked like something holy; his eyes glimmering like cathedral windows, those eyelashes casting church shadows down his cheeks.
You had to look away.
One more second of that gold light on his face and the cord in your chest would’ve split clean in two.
“You know…” he murmured after a spell, “I’m awful glad you came along. Ain’t seen you much since the rodeos.”
You didn’t speak for a long while, flicking Jack’s pocketknife open and shut, open and shut.
“Been busy.”
Jack’s hand brushed yours, stilling there. Impossibly warm against your cold knuckles.
“You’re doin’ it again,” Jack breathed. “Runnin’.”
“I’m not.”
He leaned in, close enough that the pumpkin glow climbed his cheekbones. “Then stop.”
And for the first time in a long time, you did.
Jack stared into you with that aching, desperate look in his eyes, getting so close your noses brushed. “God…”
“Mmm…?”
He didn’t speak. Just brought his hand up, slow, to cup your face. You didn’t realize you were trembling until he made you still.
You made no move to touch him back, not yet, but you didn’t pull away either. Just let your breath meet his in the cold air.
“Please,” you prayed, soft and low.
Jack kissed you slow. Careful. Like the first time under the bleachers, like he’d been carrying it in his pocket—waiting for you to reach for it again. His hand slid to the back of your neck, and your world tipped quiet and warm and gold.
“Jack—” you breathed out against his lips, but he shook his head quickly.
“I ain’t askin’ for forever.” His voice was low, careful. “Just… tonight. Just give me tonight.”
That was all Jack could get out before you were tugging him by his shirt collar, making him practically fall on top of you. His mouth was already moving against yours, his hands grabbing at your shoulders, your neck.
“Oh, God…” you panted, kissing him so hard you thought your nose would break.
When he pulled back, you both just laid there in the bed of Jack’s truck, huffing and breathing in each other’s arms.
After a long beat, Jack murmured, “I feel like I could paw the white outta the moon, when we’re…”
You sat up, looking up into the black sky.
“That’s just a feeling, I reckon. The moon’s still white. We’re still—”
Jack wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you to his chest.
“Don’t you go runnin’ from me yet.”
You didn’t. Not yet, anyway.
🕸️๋࣭ ⭑
The truck rumbled against the road, one of Jack’s hands steady on the wheel. The other rested easy on your knee, his thumb sweeping back and forth over your old Levi’s.
You didn’t return the pumpkin. It flickered in the floorboard, its hollow heart filled with fire.
You let your head droop against the window, your eyes fluttering shut to the gentle sound of Jack’s breathing.
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Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️
Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this story is has many of the same darker themes. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. NSFW in one or two places but mainly this is narrative/story based first and foremost. Minors Do Not Interact! 🔞
Part 32 -
Something caused me to stir finally and I drew up my head from the table, away from its resting place on my folded arms. I realised Tony was nowhere to be seen, and the room seemed empty. I breathed a sigh of relief at the realisation the mobsters were all gone. Tony wouldn't have left me sleeping in the room with them, and I was glad. Even despite my stiff neck and sore joints, I felt a little better for having had some sleep, however poor quality. I rubbed my dry eyes and blinked in the bright light of the conference hall.
The sound of movement on my left suddenly grabbed my attention. I was startled enough to scoot backwards out of my chair when I saw I wasn't alone. As I backed away, I tripped but righted myself on the table. The figure was still and silent, face obscured by a garish clown mask. I was reminded all too vividly of the ones the men in the dress store had worn, when all this madness first started. I watched as he slowly stepped towards me, the warped face pulled down into a look of anguish- an exaggerated arc of the lips forming a sad kind of pout.
"Very funny, give it up, asshole," I muttered, steadying myself.
I couldn't be sure who it was but looking more closely at his frame and the way he moved, I began to recognise him. He abruptly stopped, stood stock still, and I doubted myself for a moment.
"J I know that's you," I said, crossing my arms defiantly.
He slowly pulled the mask up and away, revealing the face paint beneath - his real mask. He gave a little spin with his arms out wide for dramatic effect.
I was sure I looked as unimpressed as I felt.
"Aw come on doll, don't ya want to thank me for rescuing you? According to my men you were in a pretty bad predicament," he said as he sidled the rest of the way up to me.
"Thanks," I said, trying not to shrink away from him as he span in a dizzying circle around me.
"Hm, not exactly the appreciation I was hoping for," he said, eyes narrowing.
"I am grateful, but you know I wanted to get out of the city. I still do," I pleaded.
He came to a stop and looked down at me in silence with dark eyes. The hair on the back of my neck pricked up at his dark expression.
"Shhhh, shhhh, shhhhh" he cooed, forcing me into his embrace and stroking one hand through my hair.
I froze as he held me tightly.
"You know, I think you'd be safest right here. You're not going anywhere."
"But-" I protested.
"But what?" He interjected.
I fell silent, not knowing what else I could say.
"I need you back on the chessboard for this next game," he said, resting his chin atop my head, his low voice rumbling.
"And what game is that, exactly?" I asked apprehensively.
He pulled back and wagged a finger at me.
"All in good time. What's the fun in ruining the surprise?"
Excitement sparked in his words, and I frowned. I hated surprises.
"First of all, I come bearing gifts," he said with a flourish and leading me to a heavy wooden chest.
When he opened the straps keeping it closed and threw up the lid, I saw that it had a pile of assorted clothing from his warehouse stock, as well as some makeup supplies.
"Clean yourself up, get dressed, and paint your pretty face. Then i'll tell you what's next," he commanded.
I stood motionless, staring in confusion.
He clapped his hands together suddenly, breaking me free of my stupor.
"Time is ticking away!" He warned.
Spurred into action by his irritated tone, I knelt down to drag out the clothing and find something suitable for myself. Rummaging through the various types of pattern and textures of material, I found myself drawn again to velvet, this time a pair of black palazzo pants. To match, I drew out a silk long sleeved blouse, covered in black and white diamonds with gold fleur-de-lis overlaid at occasional intervals. Most surprising of all was that at the bottom of the crate there were several bras close enough in approximation to my size not to be horrifically uncomfortable. I didn't want to know how he'd worked out the sizing so well...
Kicking off my boots and peeling off my wet pants, I hurriedly put on the bra beneath my top, much to J's apparent amusement.
"I don't know why you act like such a prude after the fact," he grinned.
"There's a time and a place for... never mind," I muttered getting flustered.
I pulled the wet fabric off over my head and tossed it aside. He wandered over with a paddle mirror in hand and placed it in front of me. I saw a mess of streaked makeup, ash and bruises.
Using makeup wipes I began to clean it all away from my face and shoulders, gasping as it stung in the fresh cuts and grazes on my right shoulder. Tears pricked at my eyeballs, but I managed to force them away as he took a seat beside me and held out some gauze and disinfectant. Reluctantly, I let him clean my wounds. Tenderness wasn't exactly in his repertoire, though he was trying not to be as heavy handed as he might be. The alcohol stung even worse than the makeup remover.
I winced and an involuntary gasp of pain escaped my lips. At this, he grasped my neck with one gloved hand, a sadistic look gleaming in his eyes. I froze at this sudden escalation. His grip was tight - not choking, not yet, but I knew he was considering it. It was as if his contempt for me had suddenly risen to the surface.
He pressed the alcohol-soaked gauze against the road rash over my shoulder and he continued to hold me immobilised, like a cat toying with its prey. Again, I grimaced, despite trying my best efforts to subdue my reaction. It burned. A tear welled up in my eye enough to roll down my cheek. I tried to turn away from his piercing gaze and he roughly tugged me back to face him by moving his hand up to grasp me by the jaw.
"Look at me," he hissed.
"What is it that you want from me?" I choked out.
His grip stayed firm, finding its way back to my throat, but he cradled my face with his other hand. This touch was surprisingly tender.
My brain was spiralling; I felt such a mixture of emotion in response to his chaotic touches.
"What," I began more angrily, "do you want from me?"
He flexed his jaw in frustration, seemingly riddled with indecision. I could see that he didn't know. His eyes drifted further away, as he travelled someplace else in his mind.
I truly didn't know what his next move would be, and the hairs began to rise on my arms and the back of my neck. I decided then to switch tactics, reaching out a hand to touch his face. The moment my fingertips brushed against his cheek bone he snapped back into the present, his grip on me tightening, violent enough to be outright painful. He definitely saw the panic in my eyes at this but didn't stop. I cupped his cheek with my cold hand and held his piercing gaze. I was praying he would stop.
"I want you," he said finally, releasing me totally.
I fell forward and choked for air for a moment, unable to do anything else. My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest, and my head was dizzy from the rush of blood back through the constricted vessels of my throat. As much as part of me wanted him too, genuine fear was tearing through me now. This brutal reminder of just how dangerous he was, even to me, cut deep. I wanted to cry.
He cursed under his breath and stood up suddenly. I stayed bent forward, clutching my neck, unable to look him in the eye. He held out the blouse I had picked and I took it with a shaky hand, hurriedly pulling it on and buttoning it closed over my exposed flesh.
"Look at me, doll," he murmured.
I couldn't bring myself to do it, still rattled by his sudden roughness.
"Look at me," he urged, harsher in tone.
I drew my eyes up to meet his.
"We understand each other, don't we?" He said, a hint of desperation in the way he said the words.
I nodded, burying my fear.
"Don't we?" He said again, looking to me for reassurance.
"Yes, we understand each other. You and me," I said with as much of a smile as I could muster.
He closed his eyes and seemed to savour the words as I stood up and hurriedly wiped the tears from my face. He watched me with a calmer demeanour as I composed myself and shook away the last of my fear. I began to comb my tangled hair through and tie the bow on the neck of the blouse. As I was focusing on the tasks at hand my brain was firing rapidly, alive with electricity. His actions had shaken me; I couldn't have that. I was like a spinning top, the first sign of a wobble spelled the end of the spiral. I had to keep spinning.
Suddenly, something occurred to me as I set out the makeup in front of me. J was swaying, lost in some sort of trance like moment, his eyes shut. He almost looked as though he was dancing.
"Can - can I see your back?" I asked.
His eyes slid open and he looked down at me with a frown. Still, slowly he turned, offering it up. I felt a strange kind of relief that he was willing to make himself vulnerable to me without question.
"I want to check on your stitches," I explained, approaching and running a hand down his spine.
He said nothing but undid his tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and then his blue shirt. I slid the straps of his suspenders off of his shoulders and pulled the shirt down enough to reveal what I was looking for. With a sigh, I drew up a chair for him to sit in so that I could get a better look.
As I suspected, his stitches were still there. He couldn't reach them himself, and he wouldn't have asked anyone for help. The wound was healing well, it didn't look too inflamed, all things considered. I grabbed the disinfectant and the gauze.
"This is gonna sting a bit," I warned.
He chuckled but abruptly stopped as I pressed the gauze to his flesh, his muscles tensing up.
"Hey, at least I gave you a warning..." I muttered, unable to stop myself pressing a little harder in blatant revenge.
Part of me was disappointed that he made no sound, but I could still tell it burned from the way his fingers pressed a fraction tighter against his thigh.
"These really need to come out," I said, finally turning my attention to the sutures.
I could see that his skin was just starting the first stages of growing over them. He said nothing, just hummed affirmatively.
"I need something to cut them with," I thought aloud.
With alarming speed, he produced a flick knife from his pocket and swung open the blade with a jarring 'clack'. I jumped a little as it startled me before reaching out to take it from him. He stayed with his back to me the entire time. My hand closed over his as he let the knife go, lingering for a moment. Dark thoughts began to cloud my mind as I withdrew the blade. Did he really trust me not to cut his throat? Did he find this uncertainty exciting? Could I do a thing like that? Even to someone like him? Especially to someone like him?
"Penny for your thoughts, doll?" He called back, noticing my sudden freeze.
Something compelled me to answer honestly.
"I was asking myself, could I cut your throat? Do I have it in me to do something so... awful?"
My tone was distant and detached.
He made a strange kind of excited murmur.
"Just intrusive thoughts," I added, moving finally to cut the row of black stitches.
"Did you picture it, in that pretty head of yours?" He asked, that serpentine slyness creeping its way back into his words.
I paused for a moment.
"Yes. I have a very vivid imagination," I answered as I tugged out the first few stitches.
His muscles flinched, which gave me a kind of perverse joy, knowing I’d caused some pain; knowing it paid back a little of the pain and panic he'd caused me.
"Well, aren't you the little sadist?" He chuckled.
I thought carefully about how to respond to that accusation.
"You know me by now, you know I always bite back. I don't think that's the same thing as an outright sadist."
He hummed, sounding unconvinced as I continued to pick the stitches out of his flesh.
"I think, your line in the sand isn't as deep as you'd like it to be..."
I pulled the final two stiches loose with renewed aggression. I couldn't help myself, frustrated by him again.
He flinched and then laughed. That same laugh that had permeated my fear toxin induced hallucination, and the aftershock nightmares which had plagued me since.
Overcome with anger at him, I pressed the silver blade against his jugular, then knowing he'd probably only find it exciting, I stopped, instead choosing to place it back on the table and turn my attention to applying my makeup. He seemed frustrated by this.
‘Why did you stop?’
‘I’m not in the mood for playing twisted games.’
His expression soured and he rolled his eyes dramatically as I turned back to the mirror and the task of applying foundation. I could hear his footsteps retreating somewhere and stole a glance toward him. He was retrieving something else and brought over a duffle bag, planting it clumsily on the table beside me, knocking down some of the little tubes of lipstick and bottles of cosmetics. He unzipped it and drew out the familiar venetian mask. I stared at it as he held it up by one of the protruding spikes of fabric which framed the face like the points of a dazzling star.
‘You’re becoming a real stick in the mud, you know that?’ he warned, a sinister fire burning away beneath the words.
I continued to stare at the static porcelain face.
‘You don’t seem like the kind of woman who put on this mask and terrorised the Ibanescu crime family… I want to speak with her. Where did she go?’ He demanded callously, deliberately violating my personal space.
I turned in my seat to face him.
‘You should know by now that I don’t perform, it’s not like I’m just some dancing monkey! I don’t do things for peoples’ personal amusement. From the first day we met, you saw that. I have changed in a lot of ways, but that has been constant. Don’t act surprised by it all of a sudden.’
He raised an eyebrow at my passionate response.
‘There’s the fire that I love. I need you to be my Queen of Spades again.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we are two of a kind. Our paths were meant to cross, don’t you think?’ he brushed his fingertips over my cheekbone.
I closed my eyes with a sigh. I found myself wondering if somehow, in a different universe, in a place that didn’t poison everything, we might really have been something. I found myself again picturing the sweetness of the lie. Seeing myself in the passenger seat of an open-top car drifting along some scenic highway, with him behind the wheel. I could see us escaping the grey squalor of the city, riding along under a bright blue sky, the wind ruffling our hair. His touch at my cheek was so soft that I found myself believing for a moment in the fantasy, like some of it had bled through a little into this universe. I felt him wrap his arms around me and rest his chin on the top of my head.
‘I’m so lonely…’ I murmured, struck dumb by rawness of the emotions surging through me.
‘I know,’ he said flatly.
‘I can’t be what you want me to be, you do realise that?’ I breathed out in a kind of whisper.
He said nothing.
‘Okay. I’ll do it your way, on one condition,' I finally broke the heavy silence.
‘What’s your bargain?’ he said excitedly.
‘You just have to answer one question. Honestly.’
‘Hm, then shoot,’ he purred.
‘You obviously didn’t throw this in the bay like you promised. Did you bring the cops down on me?’
He made a kind of hum that suggested he was snagged there.
‘Did you?’ I asked again firmly.
‘Yes. I wondered if you’d work that one out.’ He said finally.
I pulled away from him at this revelation and paced away from him a little. I was offended, and frustrated that he would chose to dangle the carrot of my freedom like that, only to snatch it away. Finally, I spoke in a flat tone:
‘Then listen to me carefully. Don’t try to manipulate me like that again. All you will do is lose my trust, and then me. I’m not dumb, don’t treat me like it…’
He watched me wordlessly but ultimately nodded in acceptance of my demand, before turning on his heels and quitting the room.
If you liked this please consider leaving me a comment! Likes are awesome but comments really help me to push through the ADHD to finish the story! ✨️
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If i forgot anyone or you want to be removed please let me know ❤️
@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd
@dance-like-a-clown
@furisodespirit
@heath-ledger-jokers-wife
@sunfyrejoker
@lightsabergirl
@clowning--around
@ruby-da-archangel
@harleenqvinn
@helchronicles
@ostricx
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@nicklet94
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LINK TO THE MASTERLIST OF OTHER CHAPTERS ⬇️
💬 0 🔁 12 ❤️ 114 · Old Scars (Part 1) · MASTERLIST FOR THE CHAPTERS OF "OLD SCARS"
Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen w
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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you guys have almost crashed so many times because he won’t stop LOOKING AT YOU WHEN HES DRIVING so donnie doesn’t really get driver duty anymore
his brain short circuits when he sees you in his shirts/boxers..,.,. (esp if ur a boy)
he bites you
donnie fidgets with ur hands; just fiddles with your fingers, or brushes his thumbs against your knuckles.
donnie likes to brush his nose over your neck, shoulders, arms, anywhere… hes a little weirdo
likes feeling your hand on the back of his neck
you guys like to go to gas stations and close your eyes while the other one mixes a bunch of slurpee flavors, then you guess what flavors the other person used
he takes a while to get comfortable in terms of EMOTIONAL intimacy. of course he wants to make out, get freaky, etc. hes a teenage boy with hormones so duh. but. for the first few months hes anxious to even hold hands when it comes to idle tenderness, but eventually something clicks (maybe he cries in front of you for the first time or something) and then he's all over you. all the time. the first time he let himself lay his head on your shoulder, showing he felt safe with you??? you almost had a brain aneurysm
he likes to tickle you
he loves making out. asks for it constantly
^ furrows his brows when u kiss? sounds weird but like he looks hot doing it ok
he makes emo ascii art of like DONNIE 🩷 UR NAME and emails it to you and feels like shakespeare sending messenger pigeons
u guys have matching bracelets that he never ever takes off
he will slip ur favorite candy into your bag and never acknowledge it
when you fluster him, his ears get all red and he full-body SHUDDERS
^ if you say anything about it hes like “its cold. i got the chills.” just straight lying
if ur dating, he probably doesn’t bring u around his family for a while. and when he does, he’s super embarrassed of them so when you and elizabeth get close hes like but i feel like elizabeth would love u. samantha would see u as like the cool older sibling
elizabeth helps him put together gift baskets for you. she freaking loves u
donnie is a REALLY aggressive kisser… u have to tell him to chill bc he tries eating ur face off
he writes poetry about you and posts it to a secret tumblr account he has dedicated to u
donnie makes ppl mad with how much he loves u. it doesn’t matter who hes with, what he’s doing… if u text or call hes like “sybau i have business to attend to” and his friends are like brah
that boy freaking loves halloween u are gonna match costumes. he has already decided in march what ur gonna be
before u started dating, donnie could be oddly mean to u, but also not?? hed say things like “did you steal my cd? no, no, keep it.”
u guys go on music dates where you each pick out a record/cd for the other to listen to, then u rate them together
he jumps on ur back
he can be sassy as fuck once ur comfortable with each other. when u guys argue it’s so funny be hes just so sassy but you can usually shut him up by kissing him
u guys throw shit at each other and giggle (papers across classrooms, grass outside, straw wrappers)
donnie’s mom packs him an extra lunch for you
“i hate u” “i love u tooo”
if you ride the bus together, you always sit in the very back leaning on each other and listening to music
he likes if u clip his fingernails for him but he’ll never say it
one time u guys went to a fragrance store together and donnie (having a sensitive ass nose) started gagging and tweaking and had to leave. as soon as u guys stepped out he buried his face in ur neck and started HUFFING
he LOVES falling asleep laying his head on ur chest, bonus points if ur scratching his scalp/back
he helps you study. smart bloke
when u ask to just cheat hes like no. but its out of love he actually wants u to understand
asks you to decorate cookies with him for samantha’s bake sales
anytime you sit next to each other, ur legs somehow get all tangled or crossed
when he hears something interesting he wants to write in a story but doesn’t want to forget, he stores it in u. youll be in class and he’ll just whisper “saccharine” or something else in your ear. later he’ll be like “what was that word i was thinking of earlier???” and youll remember for him
he likes to slip his hands under ur shirt, not (always) to get freaky, he just likes feeling ur warmth
randomly sends you gifs or emojis when he misses u
for example..
🦚🎠🪗
hi donnie
donnie HATES getting his picture taken, but he has plenty of the two of you together in his room. he keeps a polaroid on him for when youre in your element
has a drawer FULL of pictures of u. dont ask me what he does with them
izzy806
gummygunk
annaxmalina
jacobvanloon
