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j0kers-light · 4 months ago

Note

hi bae, ik youve been going thru a rough patch i hope(in fact ik) you’ll bounce back harder.🫶🏻

i really wanted to make a request for a long long time now, no pressure write it whenever u feel like it i am just going to drop it here.

for me J has always been a Lana del rey song specially the ultra violence album, he’s shades of blue, he’s ultraviolenec, smts hes even brooklyn baby. Can you write something dark, like real dark where hes possessive, violent, exatcly like he was in TDK. Pulling stunts and dropping hints. maybe he kidnappes the reader or smt like that, he’s acting all crazy and violent but something inside him just makes him slip to a lil caring or loving side every now and then, which eventually leads to some serious SMUT 😏😏

the reader could be his enemy’s daughter(maybe even batman’s daughter lol i am going wild) he tortures her,loves her, takes care of her then tortures her a lil more but make no mistake the reader is a fireball she gives him that lil fight they have in her which makes J even more attached to her.

ik i am just blabbing and making no sense, but i hope ukwim. i am also attaching a link to my fav J edit ever which might give u an outline of what i am trying to say. maybe even add J’s POV.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqyP1PdveA9/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

okay ill shut up now. feel better love you 🫶🏻

His Lighthouse: Broken Dolls (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

I feel ashamed that you had to wait so long for this request. Forgive me times a thousand @heathisbae !! I still love you and I got carried away with the word count. (10,500 words!!) I promise you that my blood, sweat, and tears went into this request. You should've let me stay in my enclosure. I LOVE DARK requests and I was in a dark and lonely place when I wrote this. The perfect mood for Broken Dolls.

Gather round children it’s time to go over some legal stuff. I usually do not care about trigger warnings. You are responsible for your own reading pleasure, BUT I’ll add a TW: List because yall gone need it. Chaos had a lil bit too much fun writing this one.. 👀😬

TW! Dark!Joker. rape, knife, blood, impact, choking, power play, dacryphilia, spitting, biting kinks, unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, degradation, no prep (foreplay is important kids) uhhhh… I’m missing something. 🤔 It’s canon Joker people. He’s a walking trigger warning.

Just be careful if you decide to read this one. I know I went overboard but your mental health is always my top priority. Enjoy or not. It’s entirely up to you. Since its a dark request, I decided not to tag anyone except @heathisbae Read at your own risk 🖤✨

Your father made it virtually impossible for anyone to find out. By fate’s design, you looked nothing like the iconic figure you called “father”, and you were forever grateful for that.

Your skin complexion, eye, and hair color masked you from the surname that was your birthright. You were the rumored Wayne heiress that Gotham City whispered about. Many far and wide longed to meet you to strengthen their businesses by marriage, whereas others flat out questioned your conception.

Bruce Wayne had neither confirmed nor denied the mother of any of his children to the world. Not like he ever would. There were only a few secrets Bruce had left in this world: you being the most important one.

Your life would be in danger if anyone were to find out you were a Wayne or worse, the precious daughter of Batman.

Many were adopted into the bat family, but you were blood to Bruce. A last-ditch effort he made to secure his family’s legacy; He hired a surrogate.

Should Batman ever fall in combat, you could pick up the torch and continue the Wayne legacy.

At an early age you wanted to make your father proud and wisely decided not to follow in his footsteps moonlighting as a vigilante. The eldest boys, Dick and Jason, celebrated for days. They loved their half-sister and supported every decision you make, but they would’ve put their foot down should you have wished to don a bat suit.

Instead of violence, you dedicated your life to education. Only the best schools with full ride scholarships—your cv was lengthy as it was profound. You spoke multiple foreign languages, held many accreditations issued from all over the globe, and excelled at virtually every extra-curricular skill you could think of.

You were a hardworking, driven woman with a no-nonsense attitude. That much, you got from your mother.

You dominated any boardroom you entered, and your famous e/c eyes could make or break contracts with a single look. Now that was all your father’s genes. You gave the phrase, beauty and brains, a living breathing, mascot and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.

That unfortunately made you a target.

You shied away from public humanitarian appearances to avoid being recognized as a Wayne. Too many similarities with Bruce would make people curious. Instead, you worked behind a smokescreen and attended the many charities and sponsorship parties as a third-party spectator to oversee your work.

That way, you got to see your hard work being implemented into the community—far better results than your father’s monetary donations provided.

You took pride knowing your hard work was creating a change in Gotham City. With the safeguards Bruce and the boys had in place; it would take an actual genius to put the numerous clues together to uncover your identity. You could live in relative peace while still making a difference.

Sadly, your long forgotten surrogate mother would soon threaten life as you knew it.

Joker prided himself in being a vigilant man. Nothing, not even the smallest of details, went unnoticed by him and when it came to his best friend Batman, J took extra care to notice every little thing.

The level of surveillance Joker did on the dark knight bordered on obsession but in a way, he was. Joker strived to be twelve steps ahead of his arch-nemesis in order to maintain his freedom. Being shipped back to Arkham was not an option, so he took information gathering very seriously.

Joker knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne for years. He was surprised other Gotham villains or just the local law enforcement didn’t put the clues together. It was so obvious.

There was no point in telling the world Batman’s not so little secret, but when Joker studied the daily life of Bruce Wayne a bit further, now that was a blackmail gold mine. Having a one up on Bats just felt good and especially when Joker discovered the perfect weapon that would break the man once and for all.

You.

Tucked away and hidden in plain sight; Y/n Wayne, the perfect tool for Joker’s plans.

A father’s worst nightmare, seeing their child in distress, Joker looked forward to scaring Bruce with this latest prank. All he had to do was get close enough to steal you away, but Bruce kept you protected twenty-four seven. Smart man and Joker didn’t blame his bestie for being a protective father.

There were dangerous people out there who would dream of your demise if they knew the truth!

No, it was much easier to track down your mother and it was mere child’s play to make her talk. Joker thoroughly enjoyed extracting as much information from the woman before her untimely demise.

He found it was unfair that she was virtually defenseless while you had security tighter than most world leaders. It wasn’t fair in Joker’s book, so he set out to put your safeguards to the test.

And what achievement it was to outsmart Batman at his own game.

You should’ve known better. Dad drilled it into your brain time and time again to always be aware of your surroundings.

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Things happened for a reason, and it was up to you to detect any signs of danger at any given time.

The same could be said for that fateful night. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed by a journalist at a charity event. She kept asking probing questions—a few hitting too close for comfort about your identity.

How ironic that you attended every event the rumored Wayne heiress organized and knew so much about her personal affairs. What a coincidence how reporters asked you questions like you were the boss..

The curious woman would not leave you alone! Her mindless chitchat felt more like an interrogation by the minute. You feared your identity was compromised after one of her questions rang true, but she simply laughed it off and said that if you were indeed a Wayne, “You’d be way prettier.”

Whatever that meant.

Perhaps the comment hit hard since your longtime friend/rival, Lana, stole attention from the fund raiser with her scandalous outfit. The brunette reeked of new money and had an ego the size of Metropolis, demanding attention wherever she went.

Her appearance ruined your event for helping orphaned kids and turned it into a mini Met Gala. You had every right for storming out to scream into the back alley. She never failed at ruining things!

You were really letting your frustration be heard when a whistle nearby startled you.

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”

You quickly stopped screaming once you realized that you weren’t alone. A lone male was smoking in the same alley, and he locked eyes with you once he caught your attention.

They were an unnatural green that felt familiar however, you couldn’t place where you might’ve seen them before.

“By all means... don’t let me keep ya from your.. uhh temper tantrum.” He blew a long puff of smoke into the night air.

At first you were in shock, but that reaction soon turned into irritation. Just who did he think he was talking to you like that? “I am not having a tantrum thank you very much a-and... you can’t smoke here!”

He simply chuckled while taking another drag. You crossed your arms and tapped your heels on the concrete as you waited for a response. This guy was something else.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.

“Yup.” He popped the letter p, “Loud n’ clear. Pretty sure this area is ah... employees only. Ya wouldn’t catch me smokin’ if ya weren’t out here being a brat, hm?”

He had a point, but you still scoffed at his choice of words. You had the idea of using your title as the boss of this event to get him fired; yet he would surely talk and by morning, Gotham City would know that you’re a Wayne. That was the last thing you wanted; however, it was worth the hassle if it got rid of him.

For now, all you could do was shake your head at this strange man breaking your employee’s no smoking rule. You personally selected all the staff for the event and your security team performed background checks on everyone to ensure your safety.

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.

His presence made you uneasy and you took a step back, “Do I know you?”

He snorted, smoke emerging from his nostrils in comical puffs. “Uh no, but I knoooo~ooow you.”

The blood in your veins ran cold when the stranger stood up and stepped into the light. “Didn’t your dad tell ya not to talk to strangers Miss Wayne?” He said mockingly.

You took one look at The Joker’s grotesque scars and turned to run.

Joker grinned and let you have a running start although you didn’t get far. Your feet got caught in your dress fabric and made his job relatively easy. The two of you tumbled to the ground, Joker landing on your back, but that quickly changed with a sharp elbow to his nose.

You didn’t stick around to see if your hit landed, you just scrambled to your feet and tried to reach for the back door when a hand grabbing your ankle disrupted your sense of balance. One second you were upright, the next, you were on the ground seeing double vision.

Joker didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. His research into you was limited, but he doubted that you had any of the fighting skills your father was notorious for.

Technically he was right. You had taken up self defense training from Jason and he reported that you sucked at it.

Despite your lack of skills and concussion, you weren’t going down without a fight. One of your nails scratched Joker’s elongated smile causing it to bleed and suddenly, he had enough of your little games.

You were making too much noise, and his window of opportunity to kidnap you was running out. If he didn’t move you soon, his plan would be ruined. You just had to make things difficult for him.

“Alrighty Y/n, time for a little nap. Shhhhh... shh easy now.” Joker dodged your wild punch to his face as he dug a syringe out of his pocket.

The sight of it made you panic and fight back harder but your scream of help was drowned out by a roar of applause from inside. The auction must’ve ended with a success. Joker pierced your skin and watched the milky white substance disappear into your system.

It was cold seeping into your veins as you still tried to fight back.

“Aht ahttttt don’t fight it. Let it happen.” Joker crooned into your ear; not like you could hear him. Your body felt so heavy, you lost function of your limbs so suddenly it was terrifying.

The Joker’s obnoxious laugh sounded miles away from you. When your eyelashes fluttered closed, Joker knew victory was his.

The environment that you woke up in was dark and cold.

Your limbs were still groggy with whatever The Joker had injected you with and after a few test stretches, you still had motion in them. Although it would do you no good. The distinctive sound of metal on metal gave away your current predicament.

You were chained to something.

You tried not to panic but you were unable to see anything a few inches in front of you much less see how far the chain allowed you to move. You felt something solid underneath you and concluded that it was some sort of mattress or padding. It was a small comfort while being confined in total darkness.

Wherever you were, The Joker was to blame, and you weren’t going to let him have this much power over you. You had to find a way out before he started his sick form of entertainment.

Every citizen of Gotham knew Joker’s M.O. You didn’t want to be tortured to death all for a laugh.

You waited until your eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings before exploring how much freedom you truly had.

You felt around in the darkness until your hands bumped into something solid. It was a surface with nothing that could help you escape on it, so you moved on. Minutes felt like hours as you stumbled through the dark, searching for anything useful. Just when you thought you were painting a clear picture of the room in your head, a door opened beside you.

The blinding light was nothing compared to the searing pain of the door hitting you square in the face or that of the trauma caused by falling to the ground.

The room was still spinning when your loudmouth got the better of you.

“What’s your f__king problem?!” You cried out. You feared that your nose was broken, it sure felt like it with the amount of blood you felt gushing out. The Joker didn’t seem phased by the display.

Instead, he stepped right over you and flicked on a light, blinding you in the process. “Errr let’s see... problems. MY problem.. Social injustice? Global warming…uhhh rush hour traffic?” Joker paused for dramatic effect and slowly turned to face you. You froze, feeling his emerald eyes rake over your form hungrily.

The unnatural hue seemed to suck you in the longer you stared. “You.” Joker purred.

“M-Me?” How were you a problem? He abducted you not the other way round!

You had never crossed paths with the Clown Prince of Crime until tonight. The two of you couldn’t be more worlds apart. You stayed nose deep in your humanitarian work and out of any trouble whereas The Joker was trouble personified.

The only thing that linked you to Joker was your father, yet you doubted the clown was smart enough to put all the puzzle pieces together to uncover that.

You prayed that this was all some sort of misunderstanding but judging how The Joker was staring, your hopes began to shatter one by one.

You instinctively shielded your body from the known threat and in doing so, your skin brushed against unknown material. The formal dress you originally wore for the evening was gone and replaced by a thin t-shirt and baggy men’s pants. The implications were not lost on you.

You turned to glare at the madman before you. “Who changed my clothes!?” If you were able to blush, you knew you’d be redder than a tomato.

This man obviously had no respect for women. He simply threw his head back and laughed, “The pleasure is allllllllllll mine.”

You failed at hiding your full body shudder and even worse, you were unable to silence yourself from talking trash. “Screw you.” You regretted saying it the moment you opened your mouth.

The room suddenly got quiet. Joker sauntered his way over to your mattress and crouched down so he could be eye level with you. He admired the fire burning within your e/c eyes for a time. Such a strong wielded fire, it was beautiful to behold. If Joker had his way, there would only be smoking embers after he had his fun. He would make sure of it.

The Joker always had an air of drama about him, and it took center stage as he spoke to you. “Ya wanna.. know something? You should be lucK-yyyy my boys didn’t change ya. They would’ve loved to uh.. what did ya say? Screw you.”

His choice of words held more meaning as he tried to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. You shut down that idea by chomping at his fingers the second they were within your reach.

You refused to sit around like some damsel in destress until dad or one of the boys came to rescue you. You would fight back even if it killed you.

To Joker, your little stunt was comical. You could rebel all you wanted; your antics would never compare to what he had in store for you.

He simply wagged his paint-stained fingers at you like a scolding parent and insulted you further. “Mm, feisty! I like thaT. But that’s no way to behave while you’re here. No noooo. No. You are a verry special guest, Y/n!”

Joker walked over to the table that you found earlier. You watched as he pulled out a tripod and took the time to set up a camera in your general direction. Once it was positioned to his liking, he mashed a button—and to your horror, a red light began to blink.

“Tada! May I present.... Y/n, my lead-ing lady in this uh.. short film of mine! The title you ask? Why it’s, How to Break Batman’s Little Girl 101!”

Joker’s words were like a sucker punch to your gut. They bounced off the thick walls of the room and echoed back in your eardrum's times a hundred. Your worst nightmare was happening right before your eyes. Not only did someone know who you were, but dad’s long kept secret was out—and his arch-nemesis of all people, knew about it.

You were blinking a mile a minute and Joker thought your lips flailing like a fish was oh so adorable. Kissable really but he shook that odd thought away.

He hyped up his performance so much, you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or the camera at this point.

“Oh come now, Y/n. Don’t act so sur-prised! I knew Bats’ secret for years now. We are friends ya know.... Mmm on second thought. Ya might wanna work on the security Batsy.. I just so happened to waltz in and steal your precious.... and might I add.... beau-ti-ful daughter away easy peasy. Did I mention she’s verrrry beautiful?”

You snapped out of your panic by Joker’s fingers grazing your cheek. Your response was instinctive by slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

Joker wasted no time reacting to your outburst. His gentle touch turned cruel and struck your face hard enough to turn it sideways right into the wall.

He quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and yanked you back upright. You were forced to bear witness to his self-inflicted scars, all jagged and swollen up close. It was a permanent reminder just how insane this man truly was. Joker’s nails dug into your cheek and for a split second, you genuinely feared this man.

His green eyes were almost electric staring into your soul. “You’re mine now and I’ll touch ya however I want. Got thaT?”

Joker saw the insult queuing up in your brain and squeezed your face tighter in his grasp. You whined but still managed to part your lips to respond. “I’m not yours.” You growled.

A brief staring contest ensued. Green verses your e/c.

Joker admired your bravery; you questioned his sanity. He dressed the part of a gentleman with his three-piece suit and coattails (despite the outlandish colors) yet he was so far removed from the title. He was unpredictable in every sense of the word that you weren’t sure if you would survive a moment longer in his presence.

You were confident that someone would come save you, Joker thought you were too naïve to understand the gravity of your situation. In any case, he would have ample time to extinguish the fire blazing in your eyes before someone started searching for you.

He was so caught up crafting his mental plans, he didn’t notice the glint in your eye right before you bit his hand.

It hardly phased him and for your efforts you received a rough shove towards the ground. Thankfully the mattress softened the blow however you still had the strength to glare at The Joker in disdain.

“Let’s see how long that feisty streak of yours last hmm?” Joker chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door.

The sudden change in brightness blinded you again but this time you caught a glimpse of a bulky man guarding the door before he and Joker disappeared from sight.

Finally you were alone with your thoughts. The first thing you did was let out a shaky sigh and glance at the camera still recording you. The Joker didn’t turn it off and you concluded its sole purpose was to monitor you and collect material for the ransom cd your dad would receive.

You choked back a sob just thinking about dad. He would be beside himself knowing you were abducted. Finding out that his greatest enemy took you would be a low blow—one you hoped he would overcome in order to rescue you. Dick and Jason would steer the detective in the right direction but with every hour that passed, you knew dad would slowly lose his mind. He knew firsthand what Joker was capable of. Your nose throbbed bitterly as a harsh reminder.

There was nothing stopping the clown from killing you if he simply became bored.

If only you took dad’s words to heart and abided by his strict security measures. You had snuck away from your detail for a bit of privacy. Now you regretted that dumb decision. You were in Joker’s clutches with no chance of escape, and it was all your fault.

He chained you to a bedpost like some animal and now that there was light in the room, you could see it in its entirety.

It was a mini prison right down to the bare necessities. The Joker had every intention of keeping you here, cut off from Gotham City, most likely below ground to disrupt the bat tracker embedded in you since childhood.

You scratched at your wrist, praying that it miraculously still worked despite the odds. Surely your father, the world’s greatest detective, could locate his daughter with much less.

It was the only reassurance you had.

You were getting tired overthinking your predicament. There was nothing you could do at present, so with one last hesitant glance at the video recorder, you tried your best to get comfortable on the mattress and fall asleep.

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.

Was it a few days? Weeks? Longer? How were you to know? You were confined to four concrete walls with no form of contact, save for the ever present blinking red light watching your every move.

You were forced to use the horrendous facilities they called a bathroom, and meals (which were surprisingly great) were brought to your room like clockwork while you were asleep.

You began to look forward to the tray that would magically appear on your table. It was the only connection to the outside world you had, and you didn’t take it for granted.

There was always a special treat on your dinner plate and it never failed at putting a smile on your face regardless of being a prisoner. You tried to keep a grip on your sanity with these small bouts of happiness, but it was obvious what angle Joker was playing at.

He was using isolation to mentally break you and it was working.

You thought being locked away all alone would be easy, but the constant silence was unbearable and before long you began to fear when Joker would return.

Not fearing him specifically, but of what you might do for a sliver of human interaction.

That visit came unexpectedly. You woke up from a nap sensing a presence inside your room. Sadly, you had embraced having hallucinations during your lengthy stay here, but this one felt a little too real.

Something didn’t feel right. “H-Hello?”

The door was still closed with the lights dimmed and there wasn’t a tray of food dropped by, so you glanced near the bathroom area on pure instincts. Nothing was inside the room except that camera that you loathed so much. Its constant flashing light both annoyed and comforted you. At least you weren’t completely alone.

You sighed to yourself and was about to fall back asleep when you felt something move behind you. Joker’s laugh blended in with your scream as you tried to scramble away.

You didn’t get far given that Joker dragged you back towards him.

The last thing you expected after waking up was a man lying in the same bed as you. It was a natural response to freak out, especially since it was The Joker pinning you to the mattress. “YOU SICK F__K! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

You didn’t see the way Joker's eyes glazed over or the way his hands tightened around you before he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I lost my… have I.. losT my mind?”

You tried to pry his hands off you, but Joker was just too strong as he continued to repeat your question over and over. His manic laughter was deafening in your ear. “Have I lost my mind, Y/n? Or have you?”

You looked up into pools of jade that glinted mockingly down at you. “What are you...?”

Joker cut you off by directing your gaze to the camera in the room. “Did ya forget I’ve been watching you this entire time doll? Talking to yourself, your uh... hopeless words of affirmation? Oh Dad will come, he’ll come save me! Hang in there, Y/n! You’re so braaaaaave and strong!”’

Joker’s imitation of your voice was cringeworthy as he repeated your own words out loud. He mocked your defiant spirit and hopes of escape as if it was a joke. Strangely enough, Joker’s tone softened, and he sounded sincere with his next angle of attack.

“You just don’t get iT. Daddy’s not coming Y/n. No one knows you’re missing, and nooo one cares either. It’s been a month now doll. If Daddy Bats really cared about his precious daughter, he would’ve rescued you by now don’tcha think?”

Joker was just messing with you. This was another tactic of his to break you down. He was a master of manipulation and his way with words was just as dangerous as his work with knives. His sole existence was to harm others and yet with your fragile state of mind, a part of you believed him.

You couldn’t believe that a month had passed with no one trying to find you. Was Joker telling the truth?

It was too absurd to believe. “N-No.... no dad cares about me. He wouldn't.... he wouldn’t give up..” You whispered. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince here, you or The Joker.

He must’ve seen the doubt starting to creep in for he pushed you a little further. “Are you sure, Y/n? He’s a uh, busy bat! Fighting crime always comes first, you know that better than anyyyyy one. He’s never had time for you...” Joker smiled, watching you blink back tears.

He enjoyed every minute of tearing down your defenses one lie at a time.

He leaned away and bit back a smile when you followed, seeking his contact. You were making this child’s play for him.

“Bats always sent ya away when you were younger. Never letting you err.. blossom to your fullest. He hid you away because you were a failure to him. A mistake. He never cared about you! But guess whaT?”

Joker waited until you looked up into his grassy green eyes. Were they always so expressive or was it your imagination that made them sparkle? It was the first source of human contact you had in who knows how long. You felt special to have The Joker staring at you the way he was.

The air in the room was filled with static energy as you waited for Joker’s next words. You craved validation, acceptance, and attention at a time like this. The Joker had starved you for far too long in isolation.

His hand raised up and softly caressed the side of your face and you missed how his eyes lingered on your lips longer than intended.

“I care Y/n.” He chuckled seeing you pout, “I mean iT! I’ve been so ah.. cruel to ya. I should’ve treated you better. You want me to treat ya better doll?”

Joker leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. The contact made you jump and blink up at him in shock. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating wildly, then he was deaf.

You soaked up his form of human contact like a sponge. How long had you been wasting away in this room?

Was it really a month like Joker had said? Right as Joker was leaning down to kiss you properly, you had a moment of clarity.

Who was to blame for you being trapped in here? Why were you here in the first place? The answer was right in front of you, buttering you up with sweet lies and fake affection. Joker was playing you like a fiddle, and you were weak enough to fall for it.

Not anymore.

The Joker was the enemy. He was full of lies. Dad would never abandon you so why were so inclined to believe this green haired clown? No amount of isolation, no form of torture, could break you to believe such. You couldn’t give up so easily. You were a Wayne. You were born a fighter.

Joker’s scarred lips ghosted against yours as you shoved him away. “You are nothing but a liar.”

You enjoyed his brief moment of shock before his eyes cooled into the hard emeralds that they were.

And just like that the act was over. One second you were in the comfort of Joker’s arms, the next you were tossed aside like trash and his true colors were revealed.

He towered over you like a titan as you tried to back away but there was simply nowhere to go. You were at Joker’s mercy, and he spared you none. Each kick to your body made you cry out for Joker to stop but he didn’t listen, rather he laughed and kicked harder.

You grabbed his ankle and begged him to stop but he jerked free and stomped on your wrist in retaliation. The audible crack was background noise to your earsplitting scream— yet it was all music to Joker’s ears.

He enjoyed the pain of others and yours was icing on the cake.

You sounded so pretty, so helpless and filled with anguish. He wanted to hear more. He was obsessed. How far could he push you until you gave under pressure?

Two knocks on the door stole Joker’s attention and his eyes watched as another person entered the room. Joker knew who it was. Anyone else wouldn’t dare enter while he had his fun.

Frost took one look at you sobbing on the floor before he focused his attention back on his boss. “We got trouble.”

Joker rolled his eyes at Frost for interrupting his fun although it was probably for the best. He didn’t want to break you just yet. Slow and steady won the race and he had all he time in the world to do so.

He might’ve went overboard today judging by how you visibly flinched when he moved in your direction, but he knew you’d bounce back defiant as ever. You had to.

“You’ll have to uhh, excuse me Y/n. It seems.. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t. You. Move.” He patted your head and laughed all the way out the door.

The heavy sound of it closing did little to silence your tears.

The pain was nothing. You were more upset with yourself for not being stronger. Joker was destroying your fighting spirit in record time and you were powerless to stop him.

The bruises never faded, and it made sleeping even more difficult on your worn mattress.

Sure, Joker was considerate enough to cast your broken wrist, but it was a small gesture compared to the verbal and added physical abuse he bestowed upon you daily.

You became Joker’s personal punching bag and there was no end in sight to your suffering.

Each time the door opened, you were forced to endure Joker’s twisted mind games or his heavy hand. It didn’t matter that you were a woman, in his eyes you deserved every ounce of pain that he inflicted. And when he finally left you bleeding and holding back tears, your own thoughts tortured you some more.

Did father really abandon you? How was the world’s greatest detective, renowned for his state-of-the-art technology and gadgets, unable to locate his only daughter?

The days blended together and all the hope you originally had of being rescued, diminished.

The Joker enjoyed his daily visits with you but he could tell that it wasn’t enough. Your body was obviously battered yet your mind remained intact.

You still possessed a thread of hope that made you defiant to the end. You spat in Joker's face whenever he was in range, and you rolled your eyes at his half-hearted jokes about killing you.

“Then do it.” Your snide remarks often led to more beatings that did little to fulfill Joker’s goal.

Nothing seemed to be working to ultimately break you, so he decided to try a different angle.

You woke up to the smell of food in the air. Your stomach growled in want, but the reset of your body hurt too much to move. You debated skipping eating all together in favor of rest however that choice was made for you.

“Sit up.”

His voice. The root of all of your problems. You didn’t have the strength to be bothered with him today.

Joker waited for you to move yet when you remained lying down, he became agitated. “I won’T re-peat myself doll.”

Your voice cracked with your response. “I can’t. It hurts.” You just wanted to be left alone, to hurt in peace but Joker controlled everything here. As if you had a choice to begin with.

“Lemme help you.”

Just hearing the offer gave you the strength to flip over to face him. Surely he was joking. He wanted to help you?! After all he did? Screw the consequences, you had to speak your mind.

“Help me? You want to help me? Okay then. Go away! Far… far away and leave me alone! Or even better! Let me go! What’s the point of keeping me here? What do you want from me?!”

During your speech you began to cry and Joker (for the first time in his life) felt guilty. Your timeless beauty was marred by cuts and bruises that he caused, and he couldn’t justify his actions for creating them.

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.

It was all a game— to get at Batman but along the way Joker saw how strong you truly were. Anything he tossed your way, you deflected it with ease. You never faltered, never lost hope. Even now as you lay weak and hungry, your eyes set him ablaze.

You had won, he just didn’t know at what.

Joker didn’t know what else to do with this failed experiment of his. One thing was certain, he wasn’t letting you go. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that you were wary of. He looked lost in thought and when he snapped to, you were shocked to see a genuine smile appear on his lips.

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.

To mask your fear, you rolled your eyes at his lack of an answer and reached for your dinner tray. Your groan of pain made Joker wince. Were you really in that much pain?

Without thinking, he smacked your hand away and stabbed a portion of food with the provided fork. The two of you stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make a move.

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.

Joker gave you an, ‘are you sure about that’ look and tapped the fork to your lips.

Just thinking about moving used up too much energy and your muscles begged for you to take him up on the offer. The Joker, Gotham City’s notorious criminal, wanted to feed you dinner; who were you to deny him?

You begrudgingly opened your mouth while looking away from his smug green eyes.

The act was so demoralizing, but you kept your cool while chewing in silence and opening your mouth for the next morsel.

Just to be cheeky, you closed your lips around the fork and refused to let go. Joker didn’t think it was funny but he entertained your bratty behavior nonetheless. He considered stabbing your tongue—but thought against it. There was no need to be violent.

He was trying a different angle to this whole hostage situation he created. Your defenses were down tonight and he would be a fool not to take advantage of them.

A quick glance to his right confirmed that the video camera was still recording. Perhaps it was time to send a message to daddy dearest and make some progress.

You were under the impression that Joker was taking pity on you with his nice guy act. He was patient, feeding you bites of food and not shoving it down your throat like he’d done in the past when you tried starving yourself.

He was being.. (dare you say it) nice. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

He finished feeding you and you thought he was moving onto the slice of cake that was on the tray. You had been eyeing it since Joker uncovered it and you licked your lips thinking about the delectable treat.

It would have to wait. There was an ominous shift in the air that completely blindsided you.

Joker didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have any plans when he entered your room tonight. It was supposed to be a simple food drop—nothing more, but the moment his eyes landed on you curled up on the mattress resting so beautifully, what left of his demented mind, checked out early.

This past month and a half was filled with harsh lessons and far too many close calls. Batman and his ban of birds did everything in their power to find you and they almost succeeded once or twice.

Thankfully Joker was smart enough to place you inside a shipping container so you could always be mobile and out of reach. You hardly noticed the frequent moves since he coordinated them during your sleeping hours. It also ensured your meals were always hot and fresh since they could just travel to wherever Joker deemed fit to your standards.

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, everything except developing feelings for you.

Now that was out of Joker’s control.

Underneath the clown façade, Joker was still a man and you were absolutely stunning with your aristocratic beauty and educated mind.

Your fierce personality drew him in despite you being a means to an end. You were supposed to be a form of entertainment, a toy until Joker got bored and let Batman have his daughter back but over time, Joker became attached to you in an unhealthy way.

You were Joker’s property, his special secret hidden from the world to do with as he so pleased.

He stopped hitting you and allowed you time to heal due to some unknown form of guilt. More and more tasty desserts were included with your meals to make up for his abusive behavior, and unbeknownst to you, Joker watched you sleep every night.

There was something soothing watching you blissfully unaware of the monster in your bed. He could slit your throat in your sleep but he didn’t. No, that would be a waste.

Joker found it better to sleep beside you and hold you close. He knew you would freak out if you knew all the liberties that he took while you were asleep.

From tracing your major arteries with a knife to leaving lipstick marks all over your skin—his feelings for you were disturbing and perfectly justified in his opinion.

Joker didn’t want the traditional lovey dovey crap most couples shared because he wasn’t normal. He wanted to own, to control, to destroy you completely and then protect the broken pieces that remained.

There was no concept of love in Joker’s mind and there never would be. Seeing you so docile as he fed you was the breaking point. He got a taste of your submissive side and craved more.

Why couldn’t you just give in and break already? You brought this upon yourself. You forced Joker to do this.

He blocked out the sound of your cries and wrestled your arms down to onto the mattress. His only goal was to get you naked and when you began to struggle more, he took matters into his own hands.

Joker grabbed the army knife from his pocket and sliced your clothes off. One motion caught your skin and you howled as the sharp metal tore it open. Joker saw red bubble to the surface and dove down to lick you clean.

He didn’t like hearing your voice filled with pain. It distracted him from getting hard and after staring you in the eye, you quickly got the message. Keep quiet or else.

You tried not to make a sound louder than your whimpers. You didn’t want to provoke Joker’s wrath.

“Much better. So pretty.” Joker hummed to himself when you were laid bare beneath him although he frowned seeing tears staining your cheeks. “Shhhhhh, hey hey. Look at me... Behave and it won’t hurT.”

He watched your lip wobble as you remained quiet. Your wrists were being held down by Joker’s hand, leaving you powerless to squirm away and he loved the power scale tipping in his favor. Good. You would always be beneath him.

He struggled a bit to unzip his fly but managed to get his cock out without letting you go. A shame you were being bratty and didn’t prepare yourself for this. He really had to do everything around here.

Joker spat on his hand and worked it up and down his cock, groaning to himself at the feeling. His eyes roamed over his doll and admired your beauty mid stoke. You had curves in all the right places that begged to be fondled. He wanted to touch them, but if he let go of your hands, you would act out.

He could see the fire burning in your eyes. If he gave you an inch, you’d take a mile.

Yet it was criminal not to mark you up the way he wanted.

Joker sighed as he lined himself up with your pussy. You panicked and tried moving away from his tip tapping your opening with heavy slaps to no avail.

“Are ya gonna behave doll?”

He shifted his weight and applied more pressure on your healing broken wrist when you continued to rebel. The searing pain made you bite your lip and cease struggling altogether.

“Now. Are you gonna be a errr.. good doll for me n’ stay realllllllly still?” Joker sang.

Your lip curled back, ready to cuss him out, instead a loud scream took escaped your lips as Joker began to force his way inside your dry entrance.

It burned. It ached. He was tearing you apart and you shook your head in agony as it continued without end. You didn’t think about the consequences, you bucked your hips away from the unwanted invasion.

You knew you were in trouble the moment Joker said your name in warning.

“What. Did. I just say doll? Dumb b___h.”

Joker let go of your wrists to hold your hips instead. Once he found purchase, he began thrusting in and out of your pussy. His pleasure was your torment. Your silent tears spurred him on and he swatted your hands away that tried to push him off.

Nothing would stop him after he got a taste of you. He was an idiot for not taking you sooner.

“Haha, you’re grippin’ me soooooo tight doll. Ease up for me!” Joker groaned louder to drown out your pathetic pleas. He would not slow down; you were too perfect to stop now.

He noticed the camera in the corner and got an idea. “Are ya enjoying yourself, doll? Why don’tcha give the ah.. a-audience a good show? Go on. Tell him how you feel.”

You forgot all about the recorder in the room! Your sharp gasp was music to his ears. You tried to turn away, but Joker would have none of that. He grabbed your jaw and forcibly turned your face towards the lens. Your tears were a paid actor for his production.

“Ya see that Bats? ThaT, oh f__k... t-that is the face of your failure. She’s all mine and I’m gonna take ahaha.. verrry good care of her. All mine.. d__n it..” Joker choked back a moan and licked the tears from your face as he sped up his thrusts. If he kept this up, he would cum before the fun really started. Although he shouldn’t have to be the only one getting off.

With a smug grin, he snaked a hand down to rub messy circles on your clit.

The response was instantaneous. You threw your head back with a mewl on your tongue. He felt the result of his adventurous touch the same time you let out an unexpected moan. “Oh? Ya like that doll?” He mocked.

He laughed at you trying to deny deny deny but your body was speaking on your behalf.

You tightened around him and he felt the slick begin to coat his cock. He arched an eyebrow at the sudden turn of events. You really were enjoying this. He wondered...

He stroked your clit faster and was rewarded by another sweet moan gracing his ears. His doll made the prettiest sounds under distress. He could see the confusion dancing across your features.

“Ohhhhhh Bats! You have a naughty.. naughty girl! Enjoying my touch after begging me to stop just minutes ago? Ah.. mmm, it's okay doll! M-Moan louder. Enjoy ittt, I know I am. Mm, you feel better the uh wetter you become.”

Joker stopped mid thrust when you clenched down unexpectedly on him. Were you trying to crush him to death?

He wondered if you could feel him throbbing in your pussy. Your tiny fists were beating on his clothed chest but there was no point in pretending.

You were enjoying yourself and if he was correct to assume, you were getting close. You just needed a little push and Joker had just the thing.

“I knew you were secretly a whore. Only dirty sluts get off on being used like a toy. Hehe. It's a-always the quiet ones f__k!” Joker chuckled to himself followed by a shuddering groan. You were very close. He had to act fast.

Without warning he bit down hard on your shoulder. You moaned out before covering your mouth with your hand. It was too late; Joker already knew what kind of woman you were. He bit harder and rejoiced as blood bubbled up to the surface to coat his lips. Finally, he was marking you up the way you deserved.

He sped up his thrusts, laughing at the sloppy sound of wet skin on skin in the room. His cock happily slid in and out of your pussy now that you were horny.

You were shaking your head in denial even as your legs shivered on Joker’s shoulders. He licked the fresh bite mark clean before whispering in your ear.

“Let go Y/n. Shatter into a thousand tiny lit-tle pieces— and when you snap them back together, I'll be righT here to ruin you all over again. And again. And again. I will always break you just the way you need. The way you deserve. So go on. Do itttt. B-Break for me.... For us.”

Joker thought you were beautiful before, seeing you admit defeat and cum was a vision from heaven.

Your cheeks darkened in color as your lips parted like the sea to allow carnal bliss to fall from its depths. You twitched uncontrollably in Joker’s hold, and he was more than happy to pull you in close as you fell apart on his cock.

You rode the wave of pleasure and swept Joker along with the force. He was caught off guard by your tightening cunt and came with your name a whisper on his lips.

No drug could ever compare to the high you gave him.

He saw new sounds and heard colors that he couldn’t name. His breath came in short pants as he came down. Words failed him, his head was still too foggy to process the world around him.

What could one say after an orgasm that intense? He just came inside your quivering hole, and he already wanted to do it again.

He couldn’t find the energy to even think coherently! All he could do was flop down next to you and sort out his senses in the right categories.

His paint-stained hands wandered aimlessly and began playing with the ends of your hair, much to your horror. While Joker floated in post-coital bliss, you fell back to your harsh reality.

You let this monster have sex with you and even worse, you enjoyed it.

You felt dirty, cheap, a literal failure. You allowed The Joker to touch you, to make you feel good. You came from his ministrations. God, you could feel him softening inside your used pussy. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and you shuddered realizing that The Joker came inside you. The room began to spin as you spiraled into a panic attack.

What would dad think when he found out? What if you became pregnant with this monster’s child. You felt sick to your stomach and feeling Joker playing with your hair, as if nothing was wrong, tipped you over the edge.

“Don’t touch me!” You wailed. Your shout made Joker come to and instinctively hold you closer to his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on inside your head, but you didn’t have to be so loud.

“Doll... I ahh uh, already touched ya.” He rubbed up and down your back despite you flinching from his touch.

You made eye contact with the video recorder in the corner and Joker curiously followed your gaze. Oh. That would explain your sour mood. You were smart and deduced what he would do with the footage. “Listen Y/n..”

A knock at the door interrupted Joker’s sentence. He didn’t move an inch as he granted whomever on the other side entry.

You tried maintaining your modesty but it was a useless effort. You were bare as the day you were born in Joker’s arms and he wasn’t letting you go.

Joker’s henchman walked in and struck a conversation with the clown, pretended as if you didn’t exist. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die you were so embarrassed.

You didn’t notice what was going on until Joker snapped his fingers in your face. “Huh?”

Joker rolled his eyes at your lack of awareness. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I said..... take a bath while I’m gone. I uh.. took your chain off for ya.”

He pointed at your bare ankle that was in fact free of the heavy metal. You twisted your leg, feeling the freedom granted to you.

You wanted to thank Joker but he was already walking out the door with his henchman. And just like that, you were alone. The silence was unbearable as the full reality hit you full force.

You didn’t fight back. Why did you give in so easily? Why did you miss the warmth of Joker body against yours? Just what was wrong with you for craving his touch?

Screw taking a bath, you ran straight towards the toilet to empty your stomach.

Sleep did not come to you when your mind was abuzz with doubt.

You paced the room while biting your nails and reliving your time spent with Joker over and over. You were beyond restless thinking about your uncertain future. What would Joker do now that he got what he wanted?

Would you be killed off and discarded like trash? Would your family be given the chance to mourn your passing? Would they even know what became of you? There were too many questions and not enough answers. One thing was for certain, you refused to sit around and wait for your fate.

For some unknown reason Joker removed your chain. It was a sliver of hope that you planned on exploiting.

The heavy metal door loomed in the distance. Before it served as a reminder of how trapped you were; now it was a shining beacon of hope. Either coincidental or simply a miracle, Joker also took the elusive camera with him. Nothing was stopping you from running, and nothing was holding you back.

Joker had slashed your clothes to ribbons but the woolen blanket on the mattress was still intact for you to wrap around your body.

It left you feeling far too exposed, but you had no other option available. Once covered, you padded over to the door and turned the handle to freedom.

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into the unknown. You looked at the barren cell you were forced to inhabit and back into the dark void, weighing the odds.

You took the first step, then another, and another until you were walking with haste—desperately searching for an exit.

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you stumbled across a door with light poking out underneath the frame. It was the only lead you had so far towards an exit. You slowly pushed it open and regretted it instantly.

The room full of men all stopped their various conversations to stare you caught like a deer in headlights in the doorway. You quite literally walked into a den of wolves.

“Well well. Look what we have here!” One guy catcalled.

They all leered at your body poorly wrapped up in a blanket. It was obvious your purpose here at their hideout. Free entertainment.

The door slammed shut behind you, trapping you again, only this time in far more hostile conditions. You berated yourself for leaving the safety of your cell if this was the cost. You could barely defend yourself against Joker. There were too many men here to even consider escaping.

You backtracked right into a broad chest and the male laughed at you already cowering in fear.

He roughly pulled your hair while another pair of hands ripped your blanket away to knead your breasts. Whistles and laughter broke out in the room at the sight. “The Boss been keepin’ this from us!? Look! She’s freshly used too!”

You screamed as fingers stabbed their way into your cunt and explored inside. Their hands weren't like Jokers. There was no pleasure to be gained here and unlike before, your body did not warm up to the stimuli.

You were in pain as they groped and fondled your body and despite Joker being the origin to all your problems, you cried out his name to save you.

Someone yanked your hair again before shattering all your hopes with a handful of words. “Ya think the boss is gonna help you? You are nuthin’ to him! Just a warm hole for him to use. And now it's our turn.”

You closed your eyes to block out the pain. The last of your fighting spirit faded away as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

Frost and Joker were waking back towards your room when they heard the loud commotion coming from the common room.

It was well in the night and nothing of note should’ve excited the men to be so rowdy. Most of them should’ve been on patrols in the first place.

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.

Curiosity killed the cat, but Joker was not so simple minded. He knew something was wrong. He wasn't religious by any means, but he prayed that this didn’t involve you.

He barged into the common room ready to scold his men when his worst fears came to light.

Joker didn’t think, he simply acted until nothing else stood in his way to get to you. Frost could handle the aftermath of his rage—you were the only constant in Joker’s mind the second he opened the door and saw you in distress.

He left you just a few hours prior, safe and accounted for in your room. He left to prepare better accommodations to reflect your newfound status in his life. Joker took great care of his possessions, and you deserved better than being tucked away in some dingy shipping container. You didn’t belong on the floor like a cheap whore. No, you were worthy to be displayed, dressed up like the doll Joker wanted you to be.

Never did he imagine he would return to this.

He fought his way to your side and fell to his knees by your side. His green eyes were wide with an unknown emotion as they took in your battered form.

He didn’t want to touch and accidentally hurt you any further yet something about the thousand-yard stare in your eyes told him you were no longer here to feel anything at all. Joker knew how ruthless his men were, but this was barbaric.

He didn’t regret killing them after what they done. His only remorse was not making them suffer more before death.

Joker gathered you up in his arms and tried shaking you back into focus. “Y/n? Y/n, c'mon doll! Look at me.. s-say something!?” He pleaded.

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.

Rage. Guilt and surprisingly shame. Joker’s mind was wild with this flood of new emotions.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a single cell of compassion in his body, yet the sight of his newest toy utterly broken (and not of his own doing) had him feeling remorseful.

“I... I don’T.. I...” Joker gathered his thoughts with a deep inhale.

Frost watched the intimate scene while kicking over a body. It was a bloody mess in here; however, that had to wait.

Frost could tell his Boss needed some assistance. “I’ll run a bath.” Frost said offhandedly.

It would point Joker in the right direction at least rather than rocking you back and forth on the floor to no avail. The comment snapped Joker out of his musing.

Emerald eyes roamed over your sleeping form. “Bath. Y-Yeah uh she needs a uh.. bath.”

He nodded to himself and slowly rose to his feet to carry you out of the common room. He passed up your old room in favor of his own that had more privacy. Not like it would matter. You had yet to speak.

This was not the outcome Joker had planned. Even after he washed you clean and tucked you into bed— he sat by your side contemplating his next move.

You were no longer the shiny doll he wanted on his shelf. His own men had ruined you. They took away your feisty demeanor and all conscience thought from you that made this game fun.

Joker tried to get you to speak, to react to anything, but you remained stagnant, blinking owlishly at the wall until sleep finally took you. Nothing of the defiant Y/n that Joker had grown to like remained.

You left him with no other alternative. He got what he wanted, and it was time to move on.

In three more days, it would mark your two-month long disappearance. Bruce would be a liar if he said he didn’t count the days if not the minutes that you were gone.

He blamed himself for your capture and the boys tried their hardest to steer him in the right direction and not spiral into depression. Bruce loved all his children, but you were his by blood. You held a special place in Bruce’s heart and as such, he spent every waking second trying to find you.

No expenses were spared, and any lead (no matter how small) were investigated. Joker was smart, but Bruce was smarter. He would find you.

Dick and Tim investigated a possible lead and discovered where you were originally being held. You still had a sweet tooth and your favorite bakery recognized your custom order being placed and tipped off Wayne Enterprises about the person who picked it up.

Unfortunately, The Joker moved you before Batman could arrive at the location but now they knew you were still alive. It strengthened their hopes in finding you safe and sound.

Numerous rescue attempts were thwarted in the following weeks, but they never gave up. There would be another lead, they would have another chance to save you.

All hope was not lost.

Their patience was rewarded the day the Batcomputer picked up a signal on your tracker. It was finally online for the first time in months. Everyone scrambled to assemble at the pinned location. Bruce was ready for a fight and mentally prepared himself to do anything necessary to get you back.

None of the boys were prepared to arrive at the back of your office building. It seemed to be a mistake, it had to be. Was Joker sending them on a wild goose chase? Bruce scanned the area but there was only one faint heat signature detected. His nerves were on edge, already assuming the worst.

Bruce’s heart stopped beating when he saw a body lying in the delivery drop-off/ loading area. He didn’t wait for the others to secure the area. His father instincts were in overdrive as he rushed to your side, calling out your name.

You were unresponsive with only a tattered blanket covering your shivering form. That’s when Bruce saw the bruises painting your body and the cast still present on your wrist. He didn’t want to believe that this battered woman was his spit-fire daughter.

You were a shell of your former self when Bruce finally roused you awake. The fire that once blazed intently within your e/c eyes was gone and it was evident what The Joker did to you.

“Bruce, look.” Dick said as he picked up something near your feet.

Scattered around your body was a deck of playing cards. On the joker card a note was written in red.

You can have her back Bats; I don’t like broken dolls.

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3liza · 2 years ago

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television culture is so goofy now. the episode of the crown that briefly has princess Diana binging and purging had a very serious eating disorder trigger warning in front of it. the episode where 120 Welsh children are flattened in a coal tip collapse, screaming in terror, started with the normal title sequence and zero warning. lmao thanks i would hate to see something on tv that might upset my delicate mental health without any warning. like mass child death

#the crown #trigger warnings

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issysh3ll · 1 month ago

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NSFW Warnings Dividers

please tag @issysh3ll for credit if you use any of these

(These ones look better in light mode)

more blog resources -> here

#animated dividers #cute dividers #dividers #trigger warnings #warning signs #aesthetic dividers #blog resources #blog resources ᝰ #fanfiction #issysh3ll

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aquaseekerofdarkness · 2 months ago

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When one of you favorite artists tags you! @kingdomsaurushearts, i was so surprised when i saw that tag lol!

"when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)”

As someone who listens to music almost 24/7, fuck...what to choose!

Ready Steady Go - L’arc en Ciel

Dream-Eating Monochrome Baku- Nem (official music video and Project Diva video)

Brothers - Michiru Oshima (fma 03 soundtrack)

Wait For Me - Gio Navas (fma fan song)

Blank Canvas - Jakeneuteon (Epic Mickey fan song)

Now who to tag...

@tharkflark1 @that1randomnerd @alkenna @femdenalchemist @quantizedweird @chandrahabein @psychedelic-furby @hantheheart @the-catmans-offical-2 @projectdestati

#just tagged a couple friends and those ive seen in my notifications more than a few times #originally i was gonna put honey im home by ghost instead of brothers #but thats a fucked up song and the thing said to stay positive #warning for the curious!#when i say fucked up i mean FUCKED UP #trigger warnings #the music video has body horror religious iconography #a humanoid spider and the lyrics just add to the warnings #mentions of vivisection on humans and fuck i could go on but yeah the curious have been warned!

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fraugwinska · 7 months ago

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What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angst #trigger warnings #minors d #minors don't look #minors dont touch #yes I'm crying #you're crying too #we all cry here #no judgement #quickf #quickfic

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neshatriumphs · 4 months ago

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Aight. Short lil' sweet, sad, whatever update and shit. Trigger warnings for mental illness fuckery and pills, etc.

The other day, for the first time since 2008 or so, your favorite bitch tried to self terminate. I don't wanna get too graphic but many pills and several pillows were used until I was placed in restraints by somebody hopped up on drugs.

I cried a lot, got sick, flooded with exhaustion and anxiety, went to work, and came home to the openings of a manic phase.

I am in said manic phase this moment. I have been doing housework for over 12 hours and rest nor sleep are on the horizon. I have had some tough conversations, but cannot contact some people, because they will try to send me to a facility.

Also. My rent was almost failed because of my roommate. I am not interested in ending my life, though I am still interested in my life ending.

I simply needed to get it off of my chest. I've been suffering in silence for months, but the past few days were the hardest it's been in years.

If you're still reading, I am both sorry and appreciative.

#Nesha Gets Personal #suicide mention #trigger warnings #drug usage #attempted suicide #manic phase

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into-the-grey · 3 months ago

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Masterlist

Currently only writing NoahxF!Reader. I may open my asks for requests if people are interested.

Also if you'd like to join the taglist, feel free. I make no promises that I'll upload frequently, but hey, if you wanna know when I do, you're more than welcome.

Novocaine Part1 + Part2 (18+)

~ You have a panic attack while Noah is streaming. Noah helps to calm you down.

Once I've sunk my teeth in (18+)

~ You and Noah have an argument before Noah has to leave for his show. You figure out a way to get him to pay attention.

Green Dress (18+)

~ The guys have a party to celebrate Jolly’s visa being granted. While there, Noah finds a familiar face.

It's Raining, It's Pouring (18+?)

~ Sometimes, people are just meant to be in each others lives. And sometimes, magic happens.

I Can't Carry This Anymore

Original Version - Alt Version ~ Sometimes remembering is the most painful part of life. (Please read the warnings on these ones, they're kind of dark)

Until You're Resting

~When a night out goes wrong, and you're completely alone, cornered, and your phone is broken, there's only one place left to go, and he's not gonna like it...

Cheerleader (18+)

~Singing on a stream gives you an idea, and a challenge is issued. How far will he go for his cheerleader?

Rehab (18+)

~You're determined to reclaim your body and your pleasure, and Noah is more than willing to help.

New Year, New Us (18+)

~You and Noah have been close forever, but who knew that new year's could make such a mess?

Tightrope

~I got sick, and he left me here. Am I really too broken to be loved?

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #bad omens #masterlist #library #reading #trigger warnings #into-the-grey #noah bad omens #noah x reader #noahsebastian #badomenscult #bad omens band #badomens

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dearaur0ra · 30 days ago

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josh washington x reader oc (name used is lily monroe)

notes: au, meaning josh does not follow through with his prank, but it is mentioned in future. female reader, michaels younger sister, (18 in present tense). this story will be realistic in the sense that majority of the plot was josh’s prank, so much of it will be adjusted. new plot will be original, by me. edit: i posted the raw draft instead of the edited! if you were the few that have saw it, no you didn’t!

—

2013

he was enamoured by you. every breath, every movement, even when you didn’t know what you were doing. this moment is one of the many josh can recall, when you were perfect.

your deep hazel hair brushed against your elbows as your hips swayed to the music, encapturing josh’s full attention. jess tugged you into a clumsy, drunken dance, your eyes creased with laughter, brimming with a joy that filled the room.

josh couldn’t hold back a smile, watching you gleam. something about the way you moved set you apart. you were so different from your other friends, never asking for the attention, you just got it. you had that way about you, even if he thought it was clique, you really did light up every room you were in.

‘it’s the small things that count’, you’d say, whenever he’d ask about it. glass half full you were, and he loved you for it.

laughing, jess pulled you down with her in a heap of giggles. your ribs ached, and tears brimmed in your eyes, but moments like these were worth every second. jess, too out of breath to speak, simply pointed at you, her laughter contagious. you mirrored her actions, erupting with even more laughter.

minutes had passed, before the pair of you calmed down. “whew, i thought that’d never end.” jess sighs, rolling over on her side to face you.

“i need a drink.” you snicker, pushing yourself off the carpet to make your way to the kitchen, leaving jess in her own carpet world.

a quick glance out the window displays the worsening weather, it’s snowy blaze coating the windows. northern alberta is notorious for this, you guess. you just didn’t think it would be this bad tonight. though it does make you sincerely grateful for the lodge.

josh turns back to the conversation at hand when he spots you approaching, in fear of being accused of watching you. beth will nag him about this later, since she seems to be the only one who knows how he feels.

“-he did! i’m not lying!” emily exaggerates, practically throwing herself across the kitchen in dramatization. you chuckle, pulling a white barstool out from beside josh to sit.

“hey.” he greets with a lopsided grin, raising his bottle in salute. your afraid to even ask what sort of alcohol concoction him and mike created this time.

“hay, is for horses.” you snicker in your drunken state.

god, the look he gave you. you wish you could frame it. the way his dishevelled hair fell over his forehead, his plaid shirt with sleeves rolled up just above his elbows. he smiled at you, bottle tilted against his lip, threatening to spill at any moment, as his eyes lingering on you just a second too long before darting away.

“ladies and gentleman, we got ourselves a comedian in our midsts.” he joked to no one in particular, the others too engaged in emily’s story to listen.

you give him a playful side eye, trying your hardest to hold your composure. a smile threatens to overturn your lips, but you hold out. “pass me that beer will you?” you ask politely, pointing at an unopened can to his far left.

with little protest he does as you say, handing you the can. you thank him, and crack it open at the top. he watches you, his gaze softer now as you sip the warm foam pooling around the can, “thanks for coming again lils." he thanks quietly, his voice sincere.

you nearly choke on the foam, surprised by the sudden shift in his mood. you clear your throat, laughing. “of course. wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

he pats your back twice, the way he does to chris. except he moves his hand to the base of your neck, rubbing it gently. “you mean the world to me lily.” he murmurs, drawing his hand away to rest on the island once again. the absence burns the skin of your neck,

“your too sweet josh.” you laugh, indecisive on which way to approach him kindly. he’s drunk, really drunk. his words could mean nothing. he groans, resting his head on his hands atop the counter.

he mumbles something inaudible, closing his eyes at the touch of your hand as you reach for the bottle in his own. you pull it away from him, sniffing the top.

you take a swig, wincing at the strong taste. it mixes with the faint beer that lingers in your mouth, a dangerous game considering the array of drinks you’ve had tonight.

it’s just one night, you think.

the bottle is an eighth full, and the two you down in almost ten minutes. in that time the group dissipated, leaving just you, sleeping chris, and josh in the kitchen.

the two of you talk about nothing memorable, just conversation. he jokes, you laugh, he laughs. a speaker plays quietly in the background, as the house seems to quiet as everyone migrated back to the living room in the next room.

it’s serene, this moment shared between the two of you. and sleeping chris, you guess, but it seems to always be that way. one doesn’t come without the other.

“do you remember-,” he slurs, barely holding it together through quiet laughter. “-when mike and i tried to paint your room for you?”

how could you ever forget?

“what the fuck mike! your fucking insane!” you gape, throwing your hands up in disbelief. your furniture is collectively pushed to the center of the room, speckled with tiny splatters of pale dripped paint.

mikes face winces, “it could be worse?” he reasons, glancing around the room.

one job. he had one job. and he brought his stupid friend with him for it. “i can’t believe you guys.” you scoff in disbelief.

josh glances at you confused, as if he hadn’t done it.

“look lily i’m sorry, but i’m not exactly an artist.”

“clearly.” you state the obvious, rolling your eyes. you catch notice of something half-hidden behind the streaky pale wall above your bed frame. josh and mikes names sloppily scrawled underneath. “are those-?”

they burst out in laughter, josh falling to the ground. they hadn’t intended to make it visible, but they’re happy it is. “you gotta admit-,” mike chokes on his laughter, “this shits kinda funny.”

you laugh, and laugh. soon the regret you get trusting them diminished, and was replaced with this ridiculous laughter.

you giggle, reminiscing in the memory. michael was an asshole, yes, but he was still your brother. even if you didn’t get along well, he’s still a damn good one.

“-oh we did such a shitty job too, mike kept saying how you were gonna kill him the entire time.” josh laughs.

“with good reason! don’t you remember the streaks?”

for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes hazy but full of warmth, like he was storing every detail of your face. your eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim light, and the urge to close the distance between you was overwhelming, but he hesitated, un-wanting to risk what you had.

neither do you. your friendship, after all, was safe-uncomplicated.

you bury your head into his neck, your smile still eminent. he feels your heat radiating on the cold skin of his neck, and your hand that grips the bulk of his arm. “i forgive you guys though.” you sigh.

“yeah, you better.” he chuckled below you, the laughter vibrating against at your head.

“josh?” you question.

“lily?” he mocks.

“i’m tired.”

—

“oh my god! i can’t believe you actually did this!” emily whispers in a breathless rush, her eyes wide with excitement as she glances back at the dimly lit room, careful not to wake anyone.

“don’t you guys think this is a little bit cruel?” sam frowns, trying to catch jessica’s eye for backup. she knows it's just a prank, but could hannah handle it?

jessica, already set on her mission, rolls her eyes. “oh come on, she deserves it!"

sam’s lips thin in a thoughtful line as she sighs, “its not her fault she has a huge crush on mike.”

“hannahs been making moves on him.” jess hisses, barely hiding her irritation. “i'm just looking out for my girl em.” she motions to emily, who smirks in silent agreement.

as the rest of the group sneaks toward the guest room, sam lingers near the kitchen, stealing a quick look around in case hannah might be nearby. her conscience tugs at her, but she knows she’s outnumbered. she gives in with a small shake of her head, trailing after the group but slowing her steps before heading up the stairs in search of hannah.

mike leads the way to the spare bedroom, the one with an old quilt and that slightly odd creak in the floorboards. he positions himself in the center, shooting jess a look that she takes as a go-ahead to set the prank into motion. jess and emily duck behind the bed, barely containing their giggles as they press themselves down low.

—

hannah's heart hammered with anticipation, as she slips quietly down the hall toward mike’s room. she clutches the small candle in her hand, its flame casting a soft glow around her, illuminating the nervousness that radiates from her face. she glances down at the shirt she picked out just for tonight—the one mike once complimented—and hopes it’s enough to show him how she feels.

she pauses just outside the door, her hands trembling slightly, and takes a deep breath. she’s been dreaming of this moment for so long. “mike?” she calls softly, her voice nearly a whisper. she opens the door, not realizing she’s walking into a setup.

“mike?” she repeats, stepping inside, her candle casting flickers on the walls. and there he is, stepping forward with a hesitant smile that’s a little too forced.

“hey hannah.”

—

meanwhile, back in the dim, cozy kitchen, you stir on the sofa nearby, buried under the soft weight of your favorite blanket. josh had tucked you in without waking you, then began his own hazy stumble to the arm chair. the cabin’s quiet hum of silence and faint crackling from the dying fire makes you want to drift back to sleep, but your pulled awake by the sound of soft murmurs in the kitchen.

you watch through half-lidded eyes as beth tidies up, before quickly falling back asleep. beth takes her usual quiet inventory of the empty bottles and scattered cans, always being the responsible one. beth mutters to herself as she clears a stray cup, shooting a playful glare in josh’s direction where he snores, slouched uncomfortably in the lone armchair across the room. a smirk curls her lips as she whispers to herself, “my brother, the romantic.” she barely suppresses a chuckle.

moving toward the kitchen, beth pauses as she spots a small, hastily scrawled note on the counter. it’s addressed to hannah, detailing a meeting spot. she squints, sighing. “what did our naive sister get herself into this time?” she mutters, ignoring the note as she sets down her collection of cans and bottles. "ugh, intervention time."

that’s when she sees hannah, moving quickly past the window, her figure disappearing into the snow-lit darkness. alarm flashes across beth’s face as she realizes what’s happening.

“josh!” she calls out, her tone urgent, but all she gets in return is a drowsy stir from him.

without a second thought, she grabs her jacket and dashes out the door, her worry for her sister propelling her through the icy wind. as she shouts hannah’s name, the rest of the group congregates outside on the lodge steps, unsure what to do.

“what’s going on? where’s my sister going?” beth demands, her gaze slicing through the group.

jess rolls her eyes and waves dismissively. “shes fine. she just can't take a joke.”

“it was just a prank han!" emily calls out.

"what did you do?" beth interrogates the group.

"we were just messing around beth, wasn’t anything serious..." Mike defends.

"you jerks!" beth spits out, turning to chase after her sister who delves further into the woods.

“so… should we go after her?” mike asks, voice uneasy.

sam crosses her arms, her stare piercing. “you know what? I think your the last person she wants to see right now mike.”

—

2014

could you have done more?

the thought gnaws at you, an unrelenting ache, even though you’re not guilty. you feel it, really feel it, in a way that pulls at your conscience. it’s hard to imagine how josh carries the weight of it. but beneath his collected front, you sense that he’s not okay. he just hides it well.

his once-lively home, filled with laughter and bickering, now stands silent. his parents barely talk, and when they do, it’s only whispers. he misses his sisters. and though he doesn’t say it, he blames himself for everything.

that night, he should have sent you to bed. you were already drunk, and he was just as bad off. if he’d passed on that last drink, he could’ve walked you up himself. maybe he would’ve caught mike before anything happened, and maybe his sisters would still be home.

now, josh just wants everyone to have a good time. it’s his way of honoring them, trying to erase the nightmare of the last year. only the best intentions in mind.

sam rewatches his invitation video, his voice echoing in her earbuds, the faint, repetitive sound barely audible as you lean over her shoulder, noticing josh’s familiar face on the screen.

“it’ll be nice to see everyone again, don’t you think?” you ask, as sam pulls her earbuds out with a faint nod.

“it’ll be weird for sure,” sam replies, voice laced with apprehension as the bus rattles over a patch of rough road. she’s worried about josh, especially since he can be hard to read.

“he only has the best intentions in mind.” you shrug, glancing at her. “i know it’s a big ask, but if we could try to make it good for him… i think he needs it.” you say, thinking of your last conversation with josh a few months ago.

“yeah, you’re right. if not for us, for him.” she nods, trying to shake the unease from her thoughts.

you manage a small laugh, patting her shoulder gently. “that’s the spirit!”

—

the icy breeze hits your cheeks in a blush as you step off the bus, clutching your jacket tight against the cold.

your boots crunch against the snowed path, with sam’s echoing just behind. the landscape feels hauntingly familiar, even as darkness settles over it.

the two of you reach the blackwood entrance gate, though one of the letters has broken off and now dangles loosely. noticing a note pinned to the gate, you lean closer.

the gates busted! climb over

-chris

“ugh, really?” you grumble, turning to sam with the note held up in your hand. “you up for a climb?”

—

the cable car station looks empty, its walls marked with graffiti and faded posters. despite the worn state, the view is still breathtaking. across the way, blinking red lights pierce the gathering dark, casting an eerie glow on the mountain.

“door’s locked!” sam calls, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“guess we need to find chris,” you sigh, moving toward a bench with a bag carelessly left on top. “chris!” you shout, hoping to spot him somewhere nearby.

“his bag’s here, but he’s not,” sam remarks, picking up the bag and noticing his phone poking out of a front pocket. she chuckles to herself. “you’re not in there, are you?”

you hesitate, glancing around the empty area. “maybe we shouldn’t snoop,” you suggest.

“yeah, you’re right,” she agrees, tucking the phone back.

“hey! you guys made it!” chris’s voice calls out from behind, startling you slightly. he looks at you both with a grin. “where’s mike?”

you shift uncomfortably, unsure whether to spill the news about jessica. “he came with someone else,” you reply, keeping it simple.

“oh?” chris raises an eyebrow, looking puzzled. usually, where one monroe went, the other followed. “anyway, i found something amazing! but i’m not gonna tell you what it is.”

“what?” sam inquires, watching as he slings his bag over his shoulder, clearly eager.

“you gotta see it for yourselves. c’mon, it’s this way.” he gestures for you to follow, excitement lighting up his face. “it’s gonna blow your mind.”

“alright, chris,” you laugh softly, taking in the scattered remnants around the old range and station.

“ta-da!” he announces, revealing the shooting range. “pretty rad, right?”

“yeah—” sam’s voice carries a hint of sarcasm.

“it’s… something?” you try to sound positive, though it doesn’t come out that way.

chris rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your reactions. “come on! look at these beauties.” he gestures to the guns lined up on the counter.

“uh, beauties isn’t the first word that comes to mind.” sam’s gaze shifts uneasily over the range. “why is this even here?”

“have you met josh’s dad?” you laugh lightly, recalling bob washington’s peculiar hobbies.

“yeah?” sam looks back, confused.

“he thinks he’s like grizzly adams,” chris adds with a chuckle. “wanna give it a go?” he asks, pointing to sam.

she shakes her head. “go on, grizzly.”

—

in the cable car, the three of you sit quietly. the car jerks slightly as it passes over a roller. breaking the silence, you offer, “i can clean that cut up for you when we get there if you’d like?” pointing to the scratch on sam’s forehead.

“i’d appreciate that, thanks,” she says, though her eyes are still on chris, irritation evident. you assume some rabid crow got freaked when chris fired the gun, causing it to fly down at sam.

chris clears his throat. “did i ever tell you how josh and i met?” he asks, breaking the tension.

“no, please, tell us,” you respond dryly, having heard the story countless times.

“so, third grade, right? josh sat in the back, i sat up front. didn’t even know each other existed.”

“but then this kid next to josh started strap snapping this girl’s bra, so the teacher made him move to the front… where i was.”

“okay? so?” sam asks, barely containing a sigh.

“so, i got moved to the back.”

“and…?” sam prompts, waving for him to finish.

“that’s how we met. friends ever since.”

“a match made in heaven,” you chuckle softly.

chris grins. “if it weren’t for jeanie simmonds hitting puberty three years early and wearing a low cut shirt that showed off her training bra that day… you guys could be here with some other guy right now! boom, butterfly effect.”

—

“whoa, drama.” chris deadpans as he hands a note back to jess.

“nope. pretty clear cut, actually. em’s out, i’m in,” jess responds, flipping her hair with a smirk.

you glance around. “where’s mike, anyway?”

“he said he’d be right back,” jess replies with forced cheerfulness.

“alright, alright, let’s just get to the lodge already. i’m done with this nature junk,” chris groans, already trudging up the path.

you hesitate. “you sure you don’t wanna come back with us?”

“no, i’ll wait here,” jess says, firmly.

“o-kay,” you reply, sighing slightly as you turn to follow chris.

—

ashley peers through the lenses of a binocular stand, scanning the distance. “oh…” her voice trails off as she catches a glimpse of mike and emily standing close, too close for comfort.

“whoa, hello, someone’s getting a little friendly…” she mutters under her breath, shifting uncomfortably. “someone needs to check the expiration date on their breakup.”

just as she lowers the lenses, matt’s face appears in the viewfinder, startling her. she jumps back.

“whoa! hey, sorry, ash. i didn’t mean to scare you!” matt laughs awkwardly.

“jeez, matt!” she lets out a nervous laugh, still unsettled.

he reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “really sorry, ash.”

she shrugs him off. “it’s fine, it’s fine…”

“you see anything juicy?” matt asks, glancing at the binoculars.

ashley’s mind races. “uh…”

“lemme check it out,” he says, moving toward the viewer.

“it’s kinda busted. nothing interesting to see.” she laughs, avoiding his gaze.

“what? really? i bet i could see a bear chomping on a fox or something,” matt says, half-joking.

“no, really matt… it’s not worth it, i’m getting kind of a headache just from looking through it so, no” she insists, feigning a laugh.

“uh sure, if you say so.” matt sighs, turning away to head back to the lodge. ashley quickly follows to gather with the rest of the group in front of the lodge.

—

"man, i feel like this mountain gets bigger every time i climb it," chris mutters, short of breath.

"oh yeah? feels the same to me."

you turn toward the voice. josh. "oh, come on. you grew up here. it probably feels like it’s shrinking."

"i guess that’s true," josh chuckles, crossing his arms. he glances up, catching your gaze. you smile, giving him a gentle wave.

"when are you gonna install some cell towers up here? i’m getting withdrawals already," chris grumbles, holding up his phone, desperate for a signal.

"you got a spare million lying around, and i’ll fix you right up," josh jokes, raising his brows, shifting his gaze from you to chris.

"funny you should say that," chris sighs. "ah, i think i left it in my other jacket."

josh grins. "oops." he turns, leading the group up to the porch. he waves to the others waiting on the stairs. "hey, gang! you guys make it up here okay?"

matt stands at the sight of josh. "coulda done with some bellboys, but hey, can’t get everything."

"yeah, it was pretty easy. a little creepy, though. i mean, it’s just really weird being back here," ashley adds, seated on the steps.

josh nods, waving you and chris to follow him up the steps as the others linger below. "yo, yo, yo! we gonna get things moving here or what?" chris asks excitedly, catching up with josh and you at the front door.

"yeah, man!" josh replies with a similar enthusiasm.

"so, matt and emily are a thing now?" chris inquires.

josh chuckles. "so it seems."

“what’s mike think of that?”

“i got a feeling mike’s already got his hands full, you know what i mean,” josh hints.

“-of jessica,” you scoff.

chris raises an eyebrow at you, puzzled. "huh," he murmurs, looking at josh, who’s fiddling with the front door.

“dammit! this freaking thing,” josh mutters, twisting the doorknob.

“is it iced?” you ask, leaning closer.

“what else?” josh shrugs.

“maybe there’s another way in?”

“there’s a million ways in. they’re just all locked,” josh sighs.

“there’s gotta be, like, a window or something we can get open or something,” chris suggests, glancing along the side of the lodge.

“wait a second, are you suggesting we break in?” josh asks, peering at chris over his shoulder.

chris scoffs. “i don’t think it’s technically breaking in if you own the place, right?”

“hey, not if i don’t report you,” josh teases.

“uh…” chris stammers, unsure if josh is serious.

“lead the way, cochise!” josh points down the steps.

without hesitation, chris heads down the steps, with you and josh trailing behind. chris pauses to greet ashley, as you and josh continue alongside the lodge.

josh pats your back gently. “nice to see you, lily,” he chuckles, pulling his hand away.

“you too, joshua,” you reply with a smile.

he grins. “hey, maybe later i can give you a proper greeting alone, yeah?” he suggests, a hint of mischief in his tone.

“in your dreams, josh,” you scoff, crossing your arms.

“every. single. night,” he winks.

—

“are you sure this is safe?” you ask, staring up at the window.

“never know until we try,” josh says.

“take my bag, will you?” you ask, handing it over. josh takes it from you, smirking as chris taps his wrist impatiently.

“we’re waiting,” chris quips.

“i got it, jeez.” you hoist yourself up, sliding one leg through the window. josh whistles at the view of you awkwardly maneuvering through.

“dude!” chris chides, smacking josh’s arm.

you pull your other leg over, slipping and landing on a workbench with a loud thud. josh clambers up to the window to check on you.

“all good,” you groan, pulling yourself to your feet with another wince.

“should’ve paid more attention in climbing class!” chris shouts.

josh gives him a look. "you mean gym?"

“yeah, with the ropes and stuff.” chris responds.

suddenly, the single light bulb shatters, raining glass towards the concrete floor. you flinch at the noise, shivering in the new darkness. “uh, josh…”

“i got a light for you,” he says, tossing you a lighter. you thank him quickly. “woah, lils, i just got an awesome idea.”

“here we go…” you start. josh’s ‘awesome ideas’ rarely end well.

“no, no, no,” he insists. “okay, so i’m pretty sure there’s deodorant in one of the bathrooms. you could use that with the lighter.” he grins, proud of himself.

“i’m lost. what’s a stick of deodorant gonna do?”

“spray on. it’s a can.”

“oh, i get it.”

“flamethrower!” josh says excitedly.

chris joins josh at the window. “just like we do with the little army dudes!”

“yeah, just like the ones we melted!” josh laughs, giving chris a high five. “bye-bye, frozen lock.” you roll your eyes, laughing. “alright, so you got this?”

“mhm.” you hum, turning on you heels.

josh salutes. “godspeed, pilgrim!” he says in that ridiculous voice of his.

you giggle, giving a mock salute before heading toward the garage. once they think you're out of earshot, the boys continue their conversation.

“so, ashley was looking pretty hot today, right?” josh asks, nudging chris. “don’t you just wanna rip that parka right off her and make some snow angels?”

“hey, cut it out, man,” chris replies, clearly uncomfortable.

“relax, just checking to see if there’s some blood flowin’ down there,” josh teases.

“tsk, yeah,” chris chuckles, albeit awkwardly.

“listen, dude, look around you. look at these beautiful mountains. do you see any parents? could you imagine a more perfect, ripe scenario, dripping with erotic possibilities? you and ashley, alone at last! you’ve laid all the groundwork, been a perfect gentleman. now, you come in for the kill!”

chris sighs in defeat. “maybe you’re right.”

josh chuckles. “you’re a hunter, bro. no fear. no mercy. she won’t even know what hit her!”

chris laughs at josh’s absurdity, giving you your cue to leave.

giggling to yourself, you head out into the hallway.

stone pillars support the upper floor, giving the lodge a rustic charm. the walls and floors are polished logs, a testament to the washingtons’ taste.

you pause, looking at the family portrait. the twins. your heart aches. "god."

you make your way down the hallway, then turn left into the entrance. with no flamethrower yet, you wander into the grand main room.

furniture is covered in sheets, the space looking abandoned. the massive staircase casts shadows in the lighter's glow, and you stare in awe, still astonished by the lodge’s grandeur.

climbing the stairs, you head to the best bathroom. so many memories come flooding back—lounging in bikinis with beth and jessica, sharing a hot bath, gossiping. good times.

you open a cabinet beneath the counter and spot the deodorant can. as you reach for it, a rodent scurries out, startling you.

“jesus christ!” you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. catching your breath, you grab the can and head downstairs.

—

everyone gathers in the grand room, placing their bags down as you shrug off your jacket. Ashley's voice breaks the quiet, “oh my god, it’s so good to be inside. even if it’s still kinda freezing in here.” her gaze sweeps the room, taking it all in.

josh moves toward the fireplace, “i’ll get a fire going.” he offers, and you find a spot on the middle couch, pulling off the dusted cover to fold it up before sitting.

matt steps further into the room, “this place barely looks any different.”

“nobody’s been up here.” josh voice carries as he kneels to work on the fireplace.

ashley's curiosity piques, “even with all the police coming in and out?”

“not a lot of action up here lately.” chris chimes in, glancing at josh, who only shakes his head.

“nope.” josh says in response.

suddenly, mike strides into the room, his arms raised high. “what’s up, party people!” he shouts, his loud greeting feels out of place, almost jarring.

“he-ey!” jessica adds, stepping out from behind him with a cheerful wave. you'll never admit it, but you like mike better with jessica. she’s a lot less controlling than em.

everyone echoes casual greeting to them in return, “make yourself at home, bro.” josh says to mike.

“will do.” michael says happily. he follows jessica to the couch in which you occupy, and take it as a sign to move. you make your way to josh, to ask if he needs any assistance.

josh gives you a small smileas he points out what to do next with the fire, he keeps his voice low as emily enters the room to join the group. her eyes land sharply on mike and jessica sitting close together, “oh my god, that is so gross,” she snaps, her voice dripping with disdain. “are you trying to swallow his face whole?”

mike pulls back a little, "em-."

“seriously, can she be any more obvious? no one wants in on your territory, honey.” emily taunts, crossing her arms in disapproval.

jessica stiffens but then stands, crossing the room to meet emily's stance.“excuse me, did you say something?”

“oh? did you not hear me? was your sluttiness too loud?” em bites, closing in on the distance between her and jess.

“sounds like someone’s upset she didn’t make the cut.” jessica grins in pride.

emily looks at jessica in disgust, “yeah, it’s all a big cattle call with that dream boat. congrats! your top cow!”

jessica moves closer, “cuts real deep calling miss homecoming a cow.”

matt steps in, “em, come on-,”

“shut up matt.” she quickly shuts him down.

“stay out of it you dumb oaf!” jessica adds, pointing at matt.

“hey! watch it.” emily barks back, almost possesive.

the tension stretches unbearably, everyone frozen in their spots, pretending not to notice but unable to ignore the tension thickening the air.

“oh! your the only one who can put him down? no one else can play with your toys?” jessica taunts.

emily’s expression is pure fury, “you’re such a bitch.”

jessica shrugs, her tone condescending, “whatever. i don’t give a crap what you think.” she turns back toward mike.

emily's voice follows her, bitter. “atleast i can think. 4.0 bitch. honour roll. suck on that when you're trying to sleep your way into a job.”

“who needs grades when you got all the natural advantages you can handle?” jessica laughs, displaying her body.

“oh please-,” em scoffs.

“you couldn’t buy a moldy loaf of bread with your skanky ass!” jessica snaps back, a sneer in her voice.

emily only scoffs in response, “are you serious? do you think that’s insulting?”

jess spins around to face mike, pointing at em. “that bitch is on crack or something!”

you and josh glance at each other, in an ‘are you seeing this?’ sort of look. the room is filled with a tension that demolishes the little excitement there once was.

“jessica, you need to shut your mouth okay?” matt steps in, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“no.” jessica waves an accusing finger at him. “your the one who needs to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

“i’m about to get right up in your business you bitch.” emily threats, stepping closer to jess.

josh gives you a knowing look, both in silent agreement.

“are we about to get real? because i’m down to get real.” jessica challenges, practically nose-to-nose with emily

“stop it!” josh intervenes, raising his voice to be louder than the two girls. “this is not why we came up here, this is not helping.”

he steps further into the room. “this is not what i wanted. if we can’t get along for ten minutes, maybe we need a little bit of a break, right?”

josh points at mike, “mike, why don’t you check out the guest cabin. the one i told you about?” josh suggests, giving mike and jess an out.

“yeah,” mike agrees, “yeah alright.” he approaches jessica with an outstretched helping hand, “wanna go do that?”

she nods, “any place without that whore.” she insults a last time, before taking his hand in her own, and following him to the door.

“it’s right up the trail.” josh points out as the couple exits the lodge, onto the outside deck.

“phew!” matt sighs, pulling his hands atop his head to do a mock explosion. “glad that’s over.” he adds, turning to face josh and i at the fireplace.

“yeah,” you respond, bending back down to the unlit fire.

matt approaches closer, “so josh, uh, should we get this fire going?”

you and josh glare in unison, as if the two of you hadn’t already been trying. “working on it.” you reply.

“um matt! where’s my bag?” emily shouts from the main entrance.

“huh?” matt replies, turning to face emily.

“my bag? the little bag with the pink pattern! the one i got on rodeo! matt! are you listening?” emily asks, but leaves little wiggle room for a response. “oh my god, don’t you remember? next to the italian shoe place where i got the stilettos and you knocked over the rack while you were drooling all over the girl at the counter?”

you sigh, barely holding in a groan. the evening has barely begun, and you’re already over it. if only josh’s breakup with emily hadn’t caused this mess, maybe things could have been… a bit more peaceful. it’s selfish, but you can’t help but think it.

you tune out the bickering, turning to josh. “you hungry?” you whisper, eyes on the fire.

josh glances up, his grin breaking the tension, “starving.”

“once we get this set up, i’ll make us a snack,” you offer, your tone hopeful.

“sounds like a dream, cupcake,” he teases, grinning as he turns back to the fire. you roll your eyes and playfully swat at him, though his silly nickname somehow makes the night feel a little warmer.

finally, as matt reluctantly follows emily out to search for her bag, the fire catches, filling the grand room with a warm, flickering glow.

“wanna go give mike the keys?” josh nods toward the door where mike and jess had left, and you nod, standing to follow him.

when josh twists the door open, jess and mike are still waiting on the porch. “hey! pornstars! you’re gonna need these,” josh calls out, tossing mike the keys.

“pornstars?” jess’s brow raises.

josh grins, “i’d pay to see it.” he snickers, ignoring your playful shove as you grimace in mock disgust.

“sorry to kick you out like that,” josh apologizes, a slight shiver in his voice.

“no worries, man,” mike shrugs it off.

“oh i’m sure you’ll find a way to entertain yourselves.” josh hints with a continuous nod.

“you guys have fun with the peanut gallery.” jess giggles. josh mimics shooting himself, his hands mocking a spray of blood out the other side.

josh turns to leave, “oh, almost forgot. gotta fire up the generator so you can see where your going.” josh points down the dark path. “it’s dark out there.” he taunts, pushing you back inside playfully.

“alright, roger that.” you hear michael say before josh closes the door.

“snacks?” you offer, putting on your most convincing plead.

“hell yeah.”

—

next -> soon!

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