#also spent lot of time choosing the kids names

[ryoalouette]

At some point Danny is going to learn about the LOA and the LOA is going to learn about Danny.

Is not going to be beautiful, is not going to be a thriller action packed story, is not even going to be a spy story with each side planning ten steps ahead the other while staring at a chess board with some deep dialogue in between about the choices we make and destiny

Is going to be a-freaking-genocide!

The minute Danny learns of some humans stealing ectoplasm, corrupting it and using it for their own greed is the minute Danny is going to loose it

They are race made for war, they love nothing more than war and Danny will sent each and one of his soldiers in a holy mission to destroy those who dare to believe to be above dead

Bc not even Danny, Lord of balance is above dead, nobody is above dead and his mission is to put them in their place.

Cue to Danny using his last forces to once again to teleport an entire city to a different location, the Himalayas.

Goodbye Nandya Parbat and any other base of operations they might use (including his real-estate and underground base in Gotham City)

Hello Devapura (divine fortress)

Once the demon head and anybody related to him are dealt with (aka nightmare dimension until their souls fade), Danny and his family go to take a tour over their new city

Only to discover a nursery room with a one year old and a baby in a crib. Two babies with black hair and green eyes. Danny feels awful thinking that he could had hurt two innocent souls and fell immediately in love with the chubby babies so Tucker, Sam and him decided to adopt them since there wasn't a single soul left in the city besides those two. Ofc the other kids and the city is thrilled with the additions and there is a huge celebration

Bc nobody loves more life than dead

The sovereignty over the mountain range that are the Himalayas is never disputed again since now all belongs to Danny ( I mean, I think is very fitting since the word Himalaya comes from Sanskrit himá 'snow, frost', and ā-laya 'dwelling, abode' and Danny and his family most have ice cores, sorry Tucker, I know cold is not good for electronic cores like yours :/ ) He signs non-aggressive accords with Nepal, China, Pakistan, Bhutan and India to make sure nobody bothers them.

And he also starts and uneasy truce with the JL to make sure the supers don't try anything dumb again (the poor YJL is going to spend the rest of their punishment cleaning snow from everywhere. Tucker will burn the corpses since they don't deserve a proper burial and Sam will use whatever is left to feed her plants. They will not tell the kids or let them see, they are kids! Practically babies, they could get traumatized)

Now they all have a place that they can truly call home and wizards from all over the world go there to learn (well, few wizards, the craziest ones like Constantine) even if it's supposed to be a place of healing and enlightenment their definition of enlightenment is almost as skew as their ghostly sense of humor. Also, Danny and his people protect the commercial routes now between the five countries (and get paid for it).

Everybody thrives in the new snow city with Midwestern chaotic easiness

Back to the babies

Since Danny is not one to read papers he has no idea who might be their parents and the babies are not helping (I mean, the poor things can't even talk yet). Black hair and green eyes with Egyptian ethnicity is too vague of a description and they could do some blood test but.... who has time for those? They all assume their parents were members of the LOA and they don't need any more motivation than that. Later Tucker reads the papers and confirms this (although he doesn't reveal that the birth father of one of the babies might be alive and burns everything along with any digital copy he can find. He also burns anything that has the name Wayne in it, including some hot emails between said Wayne and a member of the LOA. Tucker has no idea who is this Wayne but mad respect for falling for a woman that could crush you with her tights)

Since both babies have green eyes Danny names the elder girl Aurora and the young boy Jade (Orion, Selene, Sirius, Vega and Maia are not very happy with Jade's name they rather have another space sibling. Danielle, Raven and Edgar would rather not so they are ok with it but are not happy with Aurora). Unfortunately, since he is the king, once he names a baby the realms will not accept another name until said baby is old and strong enough to change it themselves)

Machi's #7 DP x DC Prompt

We all know that at some point Pariah Dark dumped Amity Park into the Ghost Zone. So, what if when Danny is king he tries to put the city back in its place only to pick the wrong dimension? Now all the DC heroes are freaking out bc of the fae city that has appeared out of nowhere.

[thargelalia]

Love at first shot - pt. 1

jason todd x fem!reader

adulting is hard, especially when you need to deal with Gotham's misadventures and its crazy ass vigilantes

or alternatively, this is how you meet Red Hood for the first time

-> +5k words

-> slight dark content, mild angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

-> warnings: violence; guns; blood; lots of swearing; mentions of drug dealing, and organized crime; poor attempt at humor; reader is unhinged, don't mess with her; jason looks like could kill you, and he could, but he's also a cinnamon roll <3

The hospital’s fluorescent lights contrast sharply with the dim orange glow of Gotham’s street lamps as you step outside. The cold autumn air nips at your face, a welcome break from the stuffy, sterile environment of the hospital. You’re exhausted but find a small sense of accomplishment as you reflect on your day. 

Dr. Joshi had pulled you aside earlier to express her satisfaction with your work performance so far, and you couldn’t be happier. She did warn you, though, to ‘take it easy’ because professor Chinwe apparently had a chat with her about your tendency to forgo any sense of self-care in order to achieve perfect results. 

Or whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

There was no sleeping on a scholarship before, and there’s certainly no sleeping on a residency now. No time for slacking off. You’re not going back to counting pennies to buy subway tickets again. Or choosing between having lunch or dinner because you can only afford one. Or mending shoes countless times until the soles effectively fall off and there’s nothing else to be done. Sure, you’re still not rich. But you’ve managed to successfully move from the dorms into a small apartment in Burnley. That’s a hell of an accomplishment already.

These are some of the thoughts that accompany you home during the bus ride home.

Desperate for a hot shower and yesterday’s leftovers, you climb the stairs leading to the second floor with what energy is left in your body. A yawn escapes your lips as you trudge through the corridor, feet stopping at the mat saying make yourself at home (but remember you’re not there). 

Much to your horror, the door to your apartment is ajar. 

Light escapes through the crack. 

Muffled sounds of struggle and stuff breaking are coming from the inside. 

Also, another thing.

You live alone. 

Shit.

Now, a reasonable person would probably back away slowly and hide, immediately calling the police. 

A reasonable person would be desperate and frightened to the core. 

But you’re not exactly a reasonable person. 

You’re a first year medical resident that spent the day busting your ass off only to come home and find… your cousin fighting – or better, trying to survive – the Red Hood in the middle of your living room.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” You eye the mess of broken vases, dirt spread on the floor, chairs thrown across the room, fallen paintings and shards of glass everywhere, until it stops on both figures at the center of the chaos. Red Hood’s hulking frame is hunched over your cousin, grasping his collar. His other hand freezes mid punch in the air. “Ezra???”

Ezra, your cousin, muttered a weak response akin to your name and a plea for help. Black eye swollen shut and multiple contusions of equal color all over his slender body. You’re surprised he’s not passed out yet. He’s close, though. 

Red Hood drops your cousin to the floor, straightening his posture. He looks twice as big now – if that’s even possible. Dark suit, accents of red on his chest and helmet, looms over you. You’d certainly be intimidated had it not been for the fact that you were fuming. 

These motherfuckers thrashed your entire place.

“This fucking dirtbag is dealing stolen meds and guns through my turf. To kids. He’s lucky I’m not dumping him in the harbor.” A deep modulated voice speaks menacingly.

Oh, yeah. Right. Your family’s aware of Ezra’s illicit activities. Just not the true extent of it. As it’s well known, whoever looks for trouble in Gotham, finds it fast. Or even if you don’t go looking. Like you at the moment. In any case, everyone had already tried to put some sense into Ezra’s head several times, but ultimately he’s a grown man. Dropped out of high school, told everyone to fuck off and said he was now going to do his own thing. 

Sometimes you felt guilty for not trying harder but over the years you realized it’s impossible to help someone who doesn’t want help.

“I can’t even—” you try to process his words, only for your lips to draw back in a snarl. “And what the hell makes you think you’re entitled to kick his ass at my place?!”

“I only followed his tracks here.” Red Hood has the audacity to shrug. “Got the drop on him before he could steal your shit. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Not much to steal now, huh? Is this your way of stopping house robbery?” you’re seething, gesturing wildly around like a madwoman. “Can’t steal what’s broken into pieces, jackass!”

“Your boyfriend told you that?”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did.”

A moan of pain snags your attention to the floor. Damn. You’d forgotten about Ezra. Red Hood approaches him again, seemingly wanting to finish the job.

“Wait!” You hold your hands out to stop him. “Don’t do this. Let me handle him.”

“Nobody fucks with me and lives to tell the story, doc.”

You choose to believe he knows your profession only because he’s seen the graduation pics before getting into action with Ezra. And not because he already had intel on you. Or had stalked you before due to Ezra’s stupidity. 

“Oh, yeah? And how about me? You fucked with me!” Whole face is now burning as you practically yell. “You’ve no idea how long it took me to finally be able to rent a place and buy my own shit! You self-righteous vigilantes need to get off your fucking high horses and actually see the amount of damage you cause under the excuse of ‘helping’! So do me a fucking favor and fuck off!”

You’re out of breath by the end of your outburst. There’s a beat of silence before Ezra starts contorting himself on the floor while coughing out blood. Red Hood looks between you and him, seemingly contemplating his next move.

“As you wish, then. He’s your fucking problem now. But if this son of a bitch shows his weasel face near my turf again, I’ll get him clipped.” You crouch down next to Ezra as the vigilante backs away and swings one leg over the windowsill. “One more thing, doc.”

You snap your head to him. “Play it smart with your words next time. Not everyone will be nice like me.”

Unfortunately, he’s out the window before you have a chance to flip him the middle finger.

“Shit. What am I gonna do with you now?” You heave a sigh, beginning to assess the damage in your cousin’s body. 

There’s a brief moment in which you consider just leaving him there like that and deal with everything in the morning. After all, you’re exhausted and it’s not your fault he got what he went looking for. 

The only thing left to do is to patch Ezra up and get him off the floor and onto the couch as he’s completely out now. His heartbeat and breathing are slow but steady despite everything, so he’ll live. Probably going to need a trip to the hospital to check for internal bleeding tomorrow, though. That is if he wants to, which you doubt. And also if you don’t decide to dump him in the river yourself until then. 

Grabbing a broom, a trash bag, disinfectants,  and other products, you clean what you can from the mess strewn across the place, not forgetting to scrub the small pool of blood off the floor. Good news is apparently Red Hood managed to catch him in the living room and kept the destruction there. Sadly, you’ll have to replace your brand new TV, three of your poor plants, an armchair, a few portraits and chairs. 

Tidying everything up as much as possible, you left to go straight into the shower; falling into bed face first afterwards, not even bothering with blankets. 

Walking into the living room the next morning and discovering you hadn’t dreamed at all about last night shattered your inner peace, anger rushing back in tidal waves. You were supposed to be getting ready for work now but instead you’re calling Dr. Joshi, bargaining to work an entire night shift in order to deal with family business this morning.  

After that, you’re dumping a whole bucket of cold water on Ezra for him to “wake the fuck up, bitch”.

You give him several pieces of your mind, threatening to bestow his face with another black eye to match the other one when he dares to intervene. The only reason why you won’t press charges against him is solely to prevent your aunt and uncle from having a heart attack. 

When you’re done, Ezra only provides a half-assed apology about things going out of his control, arguing that Red Hood is a “deranged psycho on steroids”, and that you should be more understanding of the situation as a family. But when he actively calls you selfish, saying you always got it easy as a student and now as a doctor, and thus have no right to be bitching about money, you lose it completely. 

The feral scream that comes from the depths of your soul is enough to make him bolt out the door without looking back, injuries be damned and all, as you let yourself drop into the wet couch cushions with a sniff.

–//–

It’s the middle of the evening on another day off when your apartment is yet again invaded. 

This time by an enforcer claiming that Ezra listed your name as someone who could pay his trafficking debts. Wonderful. He gave this gang both your home and work address. 

The criminal barged in with a kick to the front door. Not even a peep heard from your neighbors. Not then, not now. 

Rather you than me. It’s the Gothamites way of life. 

You had just finished cleansing and moisturizing your face inside the bathroom when you heard the noise of wood splintering. Not fast enough to hide, the enforcer soon found you, pulling roughly on your upper arm and shoving you into the living room with even less care. 

So, yeah, now there’s a gun to your face. 

Despite your heart beating faster than a hummingbird wings, the knees wobbling, and sweat starting to coat your back, you try not to let desperation completely cloud your judgement. 

The criminal was demanding the cash, threatening to shoot in case you don’t hand it to him, stating he knows you got it, so there’d be no way out of this. Meanwhile, your brain tries to come up with a solution. 

Think. Think. Think. Think. 

Skimming through several mental philes in a flash.

Ah. 

Krav Maga. 

This one might work.

If it doesn’t, then… well. 

Let’s just say it was nice sticking around long enough to watch Beyoncé’s Coachella performance.

Through Delilah’s 144p resolution FaceTime call. But still.

“Oh, my God!” Looking past the guy, you exclaim. Mouth wide open. “Batman?!”

Instant terror cascades his features, eyes bulging out of their sockets, as he snaps his head to look behind him.

In a rush of adrenaline, you act quickly to disarm him by twisting the barrel away with one hand while the other simultaneously pushes his wrist down. You slide back swiftly as the criminal cries out in pain — thumb got caught in the trigger, most likely being broken now. Good. 

“You bitch.” Hand cradled to his chest, he glowers at you in fury from a hunched position. “Got the guts to shoot me now, huh? Aren’t you supposed to save lives?” 

“You know what I do but you don’t know me.” Mustering your best sinister smile, you try to keep a steady grip on the weapon, adding another hand to its bottom. “Hands up behind your neck, asshole. Slowly.”

Doing as told, he winces, trying to plead through gritted teeth. “Put down that gun, sweet cheeks. You don’t wanna do this.” 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you start, cocking the pistol. Eyes never leaving him. “You are getting lost. Now. And if you, or any other piece of shit, ever come back, you will pay.” 

“You’ll regret this.” 

“Not as much as you.” A click of another gun. 

Red Hood. 

You’ve no idea how he got here unnoticed but instant relief floods your system. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

Two guns point at the enforcer who’s now positively shaking and sweating buckets. Looking like a helpless sheep cornered by two hungry wolves.  

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

“C’mon, guys… Two against one? Not fair.” A nervous laughter reveals his yellow teeth. “I was just following orders, I swear! Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say.” 

“Just shut the fuck up.” In a swift motion Red Hood swings his gun upward, the solid metal butt striking the enforcer’s forehead, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then he turns. “You okay?”

Unable to come up with words, you simply nod. Lowering trembling hands, trying to take deep breaths as Red Hoods watches on.

“I’ll deal with this bastard outside.” He informs and you nod once again, extending your hand as a silent invitation for him to take the criminal’s glock. 

Tucking it into one of his holsters, he then picks up the unconscious body, throws it over the shoulder like a sack of rice and leaves through the window.

You waste no time in scrambling to the bedroom to find your phone. 

Delilah picks up after a few rings and you feel bad for waking your best friend up as her tired voice sounds through the speaker. 

“Hon, you okay?”

“I-can I..can I crash at your place?”

“Of course… What happened?? You’re scaring me.”

You fill her into all the crazy shit you’ve been dealing with, thanks to your stupid ass cousin, while leaving the details for later. She’s absolutely horrified as expected. Since you’ve both been super busy recently, there hasn’t been a chance to talk about all this. A text seemed inappropriate. 

Delilah asks how you’ll get to her apartment since she’s taken her car in for a revision, and you just tell her not to worry, promising to be there shortly. Ending the call, you hurriedly grab your stuff and throw everything necessary for a couple of days inside a backpack. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you pay no mind to the chilling wind, intending to run as fast as possible to Delilah’s block. 

Out of a sudden, a prickling sensation spreads through your arms, making all the hairs stand up. 

Somebody’s watching you.

As you turn around, you jump when spotting a familiar figure leaning on their shoulder, arms and legs crossed, almost fully concealed by shadows. “The hell you’re still doing here?!” 

“Just tryna scare you. Good to see it worked.” Before you can open your mouth to curse him, his entire bloodline, every vigilante in Gotham city and their predecessors, Red Hood continues on a more serious note, “That son of a bitch won’t be a problem anymore.”

The enforcer. Right. 

“D-did you kill him?” You hate the way your voice wavers. 

“Sure you wanna know?” He leans away from the brick wall and saunters in your direction, causing you to instantly take a step back.

“Seriously, why are you still here?”

He ignores your question, pointing at the backpack strapped on your back. “Where you’re going?”

“Fuck off. That’s none of your business.”

“I just made it my business.”

“I’ll knee you in the groin.” 

At that, his modulated voice makes a weird strangled noise that almost sounds like… 

Wait. Is he laughing at you?

“Tough words for someone wearing a sleeping cap and Snoopy pajamas.” Yep. He’s definitely laughing at you. “There’s more holes in your shirt than in the assholes I...”

You drown out his last sentence, focusing on your lower body. Old white cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt with Snoopy prints adorned your frame. Clearly, in your haste to get away, changing clothes was the furthest thing to mind. 

That means you faced the criminal that broke into your house like this, too.

Placing a hand on your head, you also feel a smooth fabric there.

Immediately, you rip it off.

“I-Fuck. Listen, these actually—” A pause. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. Fuck off!”

“Pretty sure you already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until–stop staring!” 

His amused chuckle fills the air.

“How do you know I’m staring?” There’s a 99% chance he’s smiling behind that helmet and you just wish you could slap it off his face.

Instead, you huff and walk away, leaving him standing there. More out of frustration and sheer annoyance than to actually ditch him as this would be impossible. Indeed, he manages to catch up easily with his long legs. 

Then, turning on heels briskly, you brandish the pink satin fabric in front of his face. “By the way, this is called a bonnet.” 

“Duly noted, Snoopy.” He’s closer now. Not too much to make it uncomfortable, but enough to fully enclose a large gloved hand around yours. Somehow, he manages to soften the modulated voice. “I know you’re scared. But lashing out at me isn’t the answer, alright? I’m only here to make sure you get to your friend’s place in one piece.”

“I’m not–Wait. Never told you where I was going.” 

“Mmm, you did.” 

“I didn’t.” A gasp of realization leaves your lips. “You were spying on me!”

“My hearing is just sharp.”  

“Unlike your brain, apparently.” 

“Hilarious.” Judging by the flat tone, he must’ve rolled his eyes. “But seriously, let me walk you there. The streets are dangerous at this hour.”

Much to your dismay, he’s actually right. Being out in Gotham by yourself as a woman in the middle of the night is a terrible business. Best not to take any chances. 

“Fine…” You tug your hand back and start walking again, mumbling sarcastically, “what a gentleman.”

“Nope. Not even close,” he drawls, falling into step behind you. 

You don’t say anything back and neither does he. To his credit, he actually keeps a respectful distance. Even when the cold is too much and you halt to produce a jacket from the bag. Only the sound of your backpack rustling echo in the empty streets. Not a single soul in sight. 

This whole predicament is just so uncanny to you. Only a month ago your only knowledge of vigilantes came from sensationalist news outlets or frequent whispers and gossip at work whenever criminals were admitted to the ICU in a coma. 

Like most people, you’ve also seen the bat-signal reflected in the night sky multiple times.

But you’ve never actually seen one of them right in front of your eyes. Twice now. 

You chance a furtive glance behind. 

Thumbs hooked in his utility belt, Red Hood has his attention to the passing houses, leisurely putting one foot after the other as if he’s taking a stroll at the park. 

One would even think he’s distracted. But you know better.  

Feeling watched, he tilts his head in question, prompting you to immediately avert your eyes to the front. 

At some point, he offers to carry your backpack, but gets impatiently dismissed. 

The rest of the walk to Delilah’s block is silent.

“This is it.” You announce when you reach the familiar beige stone building. He patiently waits as you climb the first two steps of the entrance and turn to him, standing eye to eye. “I appreciate your help tonight but I hope we won’t ever see each other again.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest in feigned hurt, wiping an invisible tear off the glowing white eyes. “How will I survive?”

“I don’t trust you, Red Hood.” You narrow your eyes, voice coming out more stern than intended. 

Silence. 

“You’re smart.” His tone is neutral. 

“Of course I am.” 

Again, silence.  

He lifts his fingers. 

And flicks. 

He flicks your forehead, completely catching you off guard.

Aside from your pride, nothing hurts, though. 

Then, he’s gesturing to your worn out pajamas. 

“You know, too bad I don’t have my wallet on me right now or I’d give you twenty bucks to replace those rags. Seriously, not even the homeless in Crime Alley—” 

“YOU—”

“I know, I know. I’ll gladly fuck off this time.” He cuts in, leaving the range of your clenched fists by gracefully sliding back. Hands up in mock surrender.  “Take care, Snoopy.”

–//–

After the entire ordeal of being held at gunpoint, nearly robbed, having your place broken in and thrashed, you decided to move to the other end of the neighborhood. A more busy but still fairly calm street. 

That doesn’t stop you from investing in sturdy locks for the windows and front door. 

No uninvited — and highly dangerous — guests this time.

Delilah let you stay with her for the days necessary to pull everything together. Despite the close ties you share, however, you really don’t like feeling like an intrusion. Not that she’s ever been unkind, quite the contrary actually. She loves having people over. The thing is once you get used to having your own space, it’s hard to live around others again.

Amidst the chaos of packing stuff and moving, you managed to take some time to visit your aunt and uncle. According to them, Ezra’s been arrested for drug trafficking, theft, and extortion. They were obviously crushed but understanding that there was nothing else to be done. You tried to show your support while hiding the relief of having one less problem to worry about. 

It’s a Tuesday night when you decide to get cozy on the sofa after an ordinary shift at the hospital. 

You’re tired, but not entirely exhausted. Just an ache in your bones. 

After a relaxing shower, you make some hot cocoa, pick up a book and dim the lights a little until sleep comes to find you. 

Contrary to your expectations, something else does. 

Trouble. 

In the shape of a black suit with a red bat insignia. 

A frantic knock on the glass window scares you into dropping your book to the floor. Scowling as you identify the source of disturbance. 

“Seriously, dude? What happened to fucking off for good?”

You reluctantly slide the windows open before he manages to crack them with his knuckles. He ducks his head in and drops unceremoniously to the ground, arms spread open.

“How did you even find me??” 

Noticing his chest heaving, you cross your arms and wait for him to catch his breath. 

“Need... a.. minute.” It’s all he manages to get out. 

Huffing in disbelief, you close the window and get comfortable on the couch again. No one’s keeping you from enjoying the little free time you haven’t had in a while. 

There’s a sound of careful footsteps. “I swear to God, if you dirty my house with those boots I’ll—” 

“Shhhh.” He lifts a finger to where his lips are, behind the helmet. “Don’t worry, Snoopy. I’ll leave soon.” 

“Still haven’t told me what you’re doing or how you found me.” 

He looks around and points at your armrest. “Mind if I sit?”

Tsking, you shut your book and drop it on the coffee table. “Go ahead. Not like I can stop you anyway.”

A deep sigh comes out as he flops down onto the soft cushions. He adjusts himself on the seat, legs widely spread, evidencing chunky meaty thighs. That’s definitely not a bad sight. Not that you’ll ever reveal this to him or anybody else whatsoever. 

“I know you’re not happy to see me again. But I actually needed to ditch someone. Some people. If you can actually consider them people.”

You lift an eyebrow as he says the last sentence almost inaudibly. 

“Why not just gun them down?” Your question drips with sarcasm. 

He hesitates. “They’re.. fast.”

At that, you shoot up from the couch. “And you risked bringing them here?? What the fuck?!”  

“What? No. No. Easy.” He tries to sound gentle and not make any sudden moves. As if dealing with a hostile cat. “I made sure they lost my tracks on the other side of town.” 

“How can you be so sure??”

“Trust me. I’d never endanger you like that.” 

You fall back onto the couch. Head stuck between hands. Can’t believe you’re in this mess again.

“As for how I found you,” he goes on, thinking as he says, “uuh.. let’s say I asked around.”

“Asked around?” You eye him suspiciously, getting a vigorous nod in return. “To whom?”

“Mmm, I’ve my sources. The same that also let me know your jackass cousin went to jail.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” A sigh leaves your lips at the reminder. “But being privy to my life without consent is called stalking, you know?”

“I understand. But, hey, I needed to know if you were alright so I could sleep at night.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Felt bad for destroying your things the other day.”

“Well, if you really want to compensate for the damage, start by getting me a new TV.” He laughs and stops when he sees you’re not following along. “I’m serious.”

He clears his throat. “Any preferences?”

“No less than a sixty-five inch screen. 4K resolution. Feel free to choose the brand.”

“Got it.” You’re not sure he actually means it. “Does that mean I get an invitation to visit you again?”

“Ha! Unbelievable. Just order it online or have someone else deliver it at my door.” 

“Why do you even need that big of a TV anyway? The previous one you had was fifty inches.” 

That’s shockingly accurate. How does he remember that? Why did he pay enough attention to that when invading your place to whoop your cousin’s ass? So many questions pop up inside your head but you decide to let them go for now. 

“Okay, creep. You don’t get to call the shots here. I’m the one being compensated, remember?” 

“Fine.” He sighs in defeat, dropping the back of his head against the armchair. Then, he’s looking at you, or rather, your clothes. “I see you finally got new pajamas. Snoopy will be missed. RIP.”

Unlike the long sleeved Snoopy one, this set is composed of light blue polka dot shorts and shirt.  

“For your information, that wasn’t my only pair.” A flush creeps up your cheeks as you grab a throw pillow and place it on your lap, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I own a lot of pajamas.”

“So you willingly choose to dress like an apocalypse survivor?” 

“You’re not really in a position to critique my fashion choices.”  

“Hey, what’s wrong with my suit?”  

“The person behind it.”

He tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “You’re a really irascible lady, huh?” 

“You learned that word today?”

“Yesterday, actually.” His attention is drawn to the book you were reading. He grabs it and examines the pages curiously before closing them. Moving on to the cover, he reads the title out loud. “A Scandal of Bohemia. Sherlock Holmes? You like mystery books? Should I call you Scooby Doo instead of Snoopy?”

“I’m surprised you can even read.” Your eyes roll at his foolishness. “And stop calling me cartoon dogs names!”

“Can’t you just play nice for once?” He puts the book down and reclines, arms braced on the armchair. “Yes, for your information, not only can I read as I actually enjoy doing it very much.”

Contemplating his words, you decide to indulge yourself him by asking, “Well, what do you like to read?”

“Finally curious about me?” The smugness in his voice earns him a dirty look. “Careful. One might even think you’re starting to like me.”

Maybe you are, in fact, irascible. 

“I take it back.” 

“I read pretty much anything as long as it’s interesting to me.” He reveals honestly, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having a civilized conversation with you for once. “Most of it is fiction. Classic, Gothic, Horror…” He stops listing on his fingers to make a dramatic pause. “Romance…”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“What what?” 

“You said Romance.”

“Yeah, I did. Why?” Jutting his chin out, he crosses his strong arms in a playful attempt to intimidate you. “Got a problem?”

“Nope. It’s just… hmm, unexpected?” You offer with a shrug. “I’m not much of a Romance reader myself, to be honest.”

“I can tell.”

Something about the way he says it so earnestly elicits what could be considered a witch cackle from you. Red Hood watches this whole display in stunned silence until you’re wiping a tear off the corner of your eyes. 

“Oh, wow. Didn’t know you were capable of that.” 

“Laughing?”

“Being human.”

Just like that, your expression closes up again. “Ha-ha. Don’t get used to it.” 

“Right. Back to cranky default, I see.” His words are colored with amusement as he cranes his neck to look at the wall clock near the kitchen entrance. A gasp leaves his lips and he’s suddenly up on his feet. “Shit. Didn’t mean to stay this long. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” You stand up and check the time as well. It’s almost midnight. 

“Thanks for everything, Snoopy. See you around.”

“See you.” A strange feeling of disappointment settles into your chest after his departure. 

You enjoyed his company tonight more than you’re willing to admit. 

—//—

Not even a week later, you arrive home to see him there again. 

Now, installing a new television in your living room. 

Seventy inches screen. 4k and all that. Just like you requested.

“Honestly. I’m not even surprised anymore.” You say while taking off your coat and hanging it on the wall hooks. “Don’t know why I bothered with getting better locks in the first place.” 

Despite the jab, your voice lacks its usual bite. Only a teasing lilt present in them. It’s nice to see he listened to your demands. 

“No, you did the right thing. The locks are actually great.” He comments absentmindedly, engrossed in the task at hand. 

“Not enough to keep you out, obviously.”

You take in the scene in front of you. There’s a cardboard box and some plastic wraps placed in the corner. At the center of the living room, Red Hood is assembling the TV to its mount on the wall, deeply concentrated. It’s a big heavy object that to anyone, would be awkward to lift alone. Not to him, though. He holds it almost like a freaking tablet. 

That also begs the question as to how the hell he managed to climb up to the third floor and pass through your window while carrying a seventy inch television. 

A lighthearted chuckle diverts you from your thoughts. 

“I’ll leave if you want, though. Almost done here.”

“Oh, no, please be my guest.” You wave him off, going into the kitchen for a glass of water. Then, coming back to watch him work. “You know, I’d offer you something to drink but… the helmet, right?”

“Sorry, Snoopy.” He’s fishing for the TV remote inside the box now. “Secret identity and all that shit.” 

“No, yeah. Absolutely. ” The bitterness within your words seems impossible to be contained. “It’s not like you know my home and work address, my occupation, my family and friends relations, my routine…”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He winces, fiddling with the remote in his hands. It’s the first time he appears awkward standing in your apartment. “For what it's worth, I’m really sorry.”

After making sure the TV is working properly, he makes his way to the window. 

“Thank you.” You say suddenly, causing him to freeze. 

He turns his head slightly and gives a curt nod. 

“Anytime.” 

Then, he’s gone.

A/N: in case anyone's wondering how Jason managed to get the big ass TV through a window on the third floor, he asked Dick for help. No questions asked.

remember to reblog and let me know your thoughts if you like this!

pt. 2 will be posted soon!

thanks for reading <3

divider

[midnightorchids]

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

-

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

-

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

-

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

-

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

No Body to Bury

This is a full dead spin off of another one shot I read about Danny being given flowers for his grave by a child.

-------

The Justice League had been working with Phantom for a while now, not consistently, but he showed up when they were dealing with something ~spooky~, and he’d given them a way to contact him. They called him in to consult, or to back them up sometimes because he was a bit of a power-house. At first they had thought the name was part of his shtick, after all his powers were ghostly enough and there was something satisfying about having a theme.

They had started to suspect something when the child citizen had given him flowers for his grave, and his delighted reaction. It could have just been a kid happy to get a gift, but it wasn’t, it was clearly more then that and Batman had had a flashback to one of Constantine’s crash course lesson’s on supernatural, the one on ghosts. Graves were very important to them, as were morning gifts like flowers and candles, whatever was culturally appropriate.

None of them knew where Phantom’s grave was, Batman had tried to find it, to find anything about the ghosts life and death, but there wasn’t much. Not before he became a hero in Amity park, so he could maybe guess that the other had died in Amity (if he had died), but there was no deaths that matched up with his appearance. The closest thing was a boy named Danny but he had gone missing years after Phantom showed up, and he’d never been declared dead officially. More was impossible to find, even after the GIW had been disbanded the information they had destroyed about the town couldn’t all be retrieved.

Since Batman didn’t know where Phantom’s grave was he couldn’t leave flowers on it directly which meant he had to actually give them to the ghost boy. It was a bit uncomfortable the first few times, and his kids made fun of him for being emotionally repressed but… it made Phantom so happy, and brought him closer and closer to Batman. He had already started to see Phantom as one of his kids, even if he knew he’d never get the ghost to come back to the manor. The gifts helped, he found that Phantom also liked to receive food, he even picked at it sometimes even though it seemed he didn’t need to eat. Sharing meals with him was a good excuse to actually talk some though, Batman would listen and eat his own food as Phantom picked at his and rambled about space, about recent fights he’d been in, and people he’d met.

Through all that Batman managed to learn more about the young hero, about what he valued, and what he did when he wasn’t being a hero. Apparently he spent a lot of time off world but exploring rather then being a hero to the galaxy. Batman had a feeling superman would be upset by that, that Phantom could be doing more good then he was and was choosing not to. But the ghost was clearly still a kid, or at least had been when he died, and he was plenty heroic, he didn’t need to be dealing with universal threats at maximum sixteen years old, Batman felt bad calling him in for the planetary threats, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

As they got closer Phantom started to let other things slip, that he’d had a sister, and a couple of close friends that he still watched over when he could. When Batman had asked if those people knew he was dead Phantom had fallen silent for a full minute and then changed the subject entirely, Batman hadn’t pushed it that time. If he had Phantom would have retreated, but as it was they kept having lunch together, and the boy let more and more slip. Including more stories about those friend he must have had while he was alive, it was during one of those that he let his name slip.

“So my sister said to me, ‘Danny you should-‘” his mind seemed to catch up with his mouth and he froze, Batman was still too but when Phantom started to fade from view he spoke up.

“Phantom, wait, why don’t we leave the tower and go somewhere private. We can talk secret identities, I’ll tell you mine too,” Batman promised, he thought it was the best way to make Danny feel better, besides he did trust Phantom.

Danny hesitated before fading back into full visibility and nodding, “Alright,” He agreed, looking very young and vulnerable. “Do you mind if I fly us down to earth? I’ll keep you safe from space,” He asked and Batman nodded, letting Danny grab his arms and phase them through the building and out. Danny flue quickly back down to the earth, the side facing away from the sun so it was the middle of the night, putting Batman down in the middle of an abandoned park, landing as well and going to sit on the swing set.

Batman followed, sitting down next to the young hero and trying hard not to think about Ace, another talented and powerful person who went through to much and died to young. Once he was sat down Bruce sighed and took off his cowl, showing his face to the other young hero. “I’m Bruce Wayne,” He said with a wry smile when he saw familiar recognition cross over Danny’s face.

“No way, that makes so much sense,” Danny cackled, which wasn’t the reaction Bruce was expecting. He’d ask about that later, instead he just gestured for Danny to introduce himself next.

“Danny Fenton,” the kid introduced, holding out his hand with an impish little smile. Bruce chuckled and shook it as if this was the first time they’d met instead of having known each other for nearly a year.

“I know that name,” Bruce hummed thoughtfully, back peddling a little when Danny tensed. “Sorry, worlds greatest detective and all, I did a bit of research on Amity Park when you joined us to see if I could track you down. I had ruled that out because your civilian identity didn’t go missing for two years until after you showed up as Phantom. Does that mean you’re not, well, dead?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck at the awkward question.

“Oh, no, I’m very dead,” Danny said with a bitter chuckle, pushing himself to rock on the swing a little. “But I didn’t die for a couple of years after I got my powers, not fully. I don’t think most people understand what it’s like to die twice,” He said, looking down, already pale hands going white around the knuckles with how tight he was holding the chains.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Batman said softly, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. “But if you want to talk, I’ll listen, and I won’t break your confidence,” Bruce assured, they sat quietly for a few more minutes before Danny sighed and looked away.

“My parents were.. well probably best classed as mad-scientists. I loved them and they loved me but they were obsessed with ghosts and with discovery, it was always a tossup which was more important. I would join them in their lab to get their attention, and it was often my job to clean up after them. I ended up being micro-dosed on this stuff they called ectoplasm a lot which probably helped when the accident happened. My parents were trying to build a portal to the ‘ghost-zone’, what Constantine calls the infinite realms. It didn’t work at first, not till I stepped inside it, then it opened and it electrocuted me at the same time as flooding me with that weird glowing green ooze. It killed me and resurrected me simultaneously but not properly.

“Instead of actually bringing me back to life it bound my ghost back to my own body so I became the ghost possessing myself. That’s when I started working as a hero, while I was still partially alive.” He paused, swinging for a moment while Bruce stayed quiet and still, trying not to think about what Danny’s homelife must have been life, or how much it must have hurt to be killed like that.

“After a while the GIW showed up, they tried to catch me, but my parents had been trying to catch or destroy me as phantom for years. The GIW weren’t nearly as competent as the Red Huntress, so I avoided and ignored them. But I started to take it for granted and dismiss them, I didn’t pay enough attention, and they finally got the drop on me. I don’t want to talk about everything they did to me, but it was bad, and it was to much for my human half,” Danny stopped again and bit his lip, there was a hitch in his breathing that told Bruce exactly why Danny was hiding his eyes.

“Danny died, but it turned out that being half human was sort of holding back what I was capable of as a ghost,” He snickered with a little bit of bitter, vicious glee. “They couldn’t hold me anymore, all their little devices got left on my corpse when they forced me out and I destroyed the lab. After that I just… couldn’t go back to my life, it’s not natural. I died, they need to grieve me. That’s- that’s how it works.”

“And did they? Did you… get a burial?” Bruce asked, because he hadn’t seen anything about it in the news. His fear was confirmed when Danny took a deep breath and shook his head.

“No, I didn’t leave my body in the wreckage. I was worried… scratch that, I knew my parents would cremate me to try and keep me from coming back as a ghost, because they didn’t know I already was one. And that would weaken my connection to this world. I need to protect people, it’s half my purpose, I need a connection to this world.”

“Where did you hide it?” Batman asked, his breath catching when he saw Danny’s eyes flash a dangerous red.

“Why do you want to know?” He growled, bearing teeth that were sharper then they usually were. “You gonna give it back to my family for ~closure~? Destroy it yourself to curtail my power? I know Constantine is scared of me, he’d like that.”

Bruce immediately held his hands up in a placating gesture, of course Danny would be protective of his body. “No nothing like that Danny, I promise,” He said quickly. “But I just remember from what I’ve been told about ghosts, having a grave is important and, if you wanted, I would like to see you get a proper burial. It’s your body, you should get to control what happens to it but if you wanted a grave, a funeral, we have a protected graveyard for fallen heros. You’d fit right in,” He said with a uncertain smile.

Danny relaxed slowly, his eyes going back to green and his expression turning contemplative, looking back down as he thought about the offer. “Maybe… maybe,” He murmured. “It would be nice to have a grave, I’ve been leaving the flowers near my body in the ghost zone but… it would be nice to have a grave. I can feel the longing, the instinct. It feels bad to not have… have that, have something.

“But… I am scared. Would you be willing to- if you do an empty coffin funeral and burial for me, I’ll put my body in it, once the coffin is in the protected ground I can phase my body into it?” He asked, looking up at Batman worriedly and it was so obvious Danny was just a kid, a neglected boy who had been unlucky enough to die violently twice.

“Of course Danny, however you feel most comfortable,” Batman assured. Watching as Danny took a deep breath, more out of habit then anything, then nodded firmly.

“Then, I would like that. I know I am still here in a way so it feels weird having a funeral for me but, I still died, and I’d like to be remembered.” He murmured uncertainly.

“Of course, I understand. We didn’t get rid of my son’s grave when he came back because he still died. Being brought back, in any way, doesn’t really undo that,” Bruce sympathized, finally getting a small smile from Danny.

“Thank you Bruce, you’re a good guy. Now… do you need a lift back to the watchtower?”

“Yes please,” Bruce agreed with a sigh, finally standing up and pulling his hood back on. He had a funeral to plan.

"When we do have the funeral, can you ask your son to come? I'd like to meet him," Danny asked and Batman hummed, not sure how to explain the complicated relationship he had with Jason now.

"I'll try," He agreed, that was the best he could do really.

Part 2: here

[bonezone44]

'Doesn't Nothing Ever Last Forever?' (18+)

Raider!Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 5,4k

(FYI: woman in moodboard is a side character.)

Summary: You worked in a brothel outside of a quarantine zone. Every once in a while, you got a visit from Joel and his men. This was your first time being around for one of those visits. (Reader is severely depressed and bisexual [relatable, amiright?]. Reader is not popular at the brothel.)

tags: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT (tagging this to be safe!) Kidnapping, sexual slavery, group sex, overstimulation, rough oral (m). POV switching, canon-typical violence. -- Sex between Reader and Joel is non-con. Reader enjoys it, but the larger context doesn't allow for consent. Fingering, unprotected p-in-v. Degradation. Finger-sucking. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Joel is turned on by Reader's history w/ women. Reader is called slut, good girl, bad girl. Reader calls Joel "sir."

A/N: Written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge. ✏ I was so excited by their moodboards, I had to participate. Also, read @toxicanonymity for the original Raider!Joel which heavily inspired this one. 🙏 And special thanks to @milla-frenchy for helping me choose a story line. 😘

story masterlist - main masterlist

+++++

The days bled together, one right after the other. No matter how clear the skies were, a permanent fog had taken over your mind. 

The only reason you woke up that evening was all the commotion. You heard the roar of diesel engines and loud men laughing and yelling. The slamming of car doors. Then those voices got louder and closer. Obviously, they had made their way inside your building. You knew you should rise and shine. Get to work. But you stayed curled up on your bed cushion in the shared room as long as possible. Even after your boss had been calling for you.

It wasn’t the kind of job you punched in and out of. You lived in a brothel. You were paid by the client–and even then sometimes all you got was a spare coin or two. A ration slip, if you were really lucky. But those could only be spent at the nearby Quarantine Zone. And the four hour trek there and back was hell on your feet and knees.

Your boss, Larry, finally opened the door to your room, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the noise and chaos to do the job of waking you up.

You unfurled from the floor and wandered to the bathrooms, bare fit sticking to the tile floors. You had hoped no one would catch you and make you work. You hadn’t had it in you to do anything that day. What you really wanted to do was float away, fly with the clouds on the wind to somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

You found Trisha at the sinks, under the sickly green lights, already washing cum from her hands. 

“Joel and his crew are here again,” she mumbled. There was a tremor in her voice.

You nodded blankly. Tired.

She turned around and stared at you with wide eyes. “Joel,” she emphasized.

“Okay?” You shrugged. Your eyes bored into a growing mold stain in the corner.  

She scoffed. “Joel is the guy who bought Carrie.”

“What?” … ‘Bought Carrie?’ That didn’t sound right to you. “I just thought… she left.”

Trisha stared at you, aghast. The room was cold, but steam began to fog the mirror. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were there!” She shouted. “You were there when Larry told us he sold her for the fucking water heater!” She pointed at the filling sink.

You blinked. “...Oh.” You wiped your eyes with your hands. “I don’t… really remember.” Her words didn’t quite click it into place for you, but a dull memory played in the back of your mind. You remembered a ‘house meeting’ and hearing Carrie’s name a lot. You remembered getting the water heater. You remembered everyone being upset and yelling at Larry. You remembered curling in the corner, your brain checking out and wandering through the static of your own mind rather than feeling something–anything–in your own body.

That explained all the weird looks you had gotten later when you expressed excitement over the hot water. You had been happy about something for once and everyone responded by staring at you like you were a freak. 

But everyone you had ever met always felt so far away. Like you were so deep in the depths of your own mind that the world around you was a movie you were watching. All the people in your life were characters playing out their roles. So you did, too. You went through the daily motions, following some imaginary script in your mind. Playing a part. Doing whatever you thought you were supposed to.

Trisha started telling you more stories about Joel and his crew. About their violence. But none of it sounded real. It sounded like another movie to you. You stood, unmoving, wishing you had some bleach to clean the mold in the corner. You wanted to scrub the grout until it was pure again. Wipe away the layer of filmy mildew from the ceramic tiles. Disinfect every inch of porcelain in this piece of shit building. 

Another woman entered the bathroom, fully nude. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she spat at you. “Go out there and do your job. I need a fucking break.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Okay,” you muttered without meeting her eyes. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror or worrying about your clothes. You knew that in your line of work, they didn’t make a difference either way.

-

You walked out to the main room and saw about a dozen men scattered around the couches, women in their laps or on their knees. 

One woman was sitting naked in a guy’s lap while another guy roughly rubbed and slapped her clit. His laughter grossed you out. The woman was crying.  

Another woman was getting facefucked and choking. She pulled back to cough and breathe. The man she was sucking on held himself in a tight grip. He pushed the hair from her face and whispered softly to her, wiping away her tears, before shoving his cock right back in.

You nodded at the scene unaffected… well, mostly unaffected. You stared into the middle distance and focused on no one person in particular. The women’s moans were mostly performative–it was obvious. But the men didn’t seem to mind. Their moans were hungry and horny, enjoying whatever stimulation they seemed to be receiving. So that was what you focused on. Their blatant sexual desire. It fueled your own heat. A fire expanding in your chest and between your legs. Your mouth began to water. You sucked in your bottom lip, eager to feel flesh inside you. 

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there, watching. It merely occurred to you at some point that one of the men was walking up to you, blocking your view of the scene. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a v-neck shirt.  A small, shiny gold cross hung around his neck and against his sunburned skin. He wore blue jeans and work boots.

Your boss, Larry, yammered in one of your ears at him.

“Joel,” he pleaded with clasped hands. “I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Trisha or-or-or Cameron. I’m sure, she’ll be right back out any minute!”

“No,” Joel says gruffly. “Her,” he pointed to you with his chin. 

“I’m sure. I’m sure.” Your boss chuckled uncomfortably and surrendered with empty palms. “Of course!” He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you toward the back of the building. He snarled in your ear. “Don’t fuck this up for me.” 

You wanted to shrug him off, but his grip was bruising. What could you ‘fuck up’ exactly? You had been working there for over a year. You weren’t popular, but you got the job done. You didn’t get along with any of the other women there, but what did that have to do with this guy, Joel?

Larry took you and Joel to one of the farthest rooms. It was the nice one with a real bed instead of a mattress or cushion on the floor. You had never been in it before. Not even to clean it. You looked around appraising the paint on the walls. There was a window, but it was dark out. The noise from the main room was barely audible. You liked being somewhere quiet again. 

#######

Joel and his crew pulled up around dinnertime in two pick-up trucks. The sun had set and the truck’s headlights bathed the front of the old office building in a warm, dull yellow.

The crickets were louder than hell that night. Joel remembered that much.

Not five seconds after his boys hopped out the trucks did the brothel owner come skittering out the front door with a nervous grin on his face.

Joel liked that. Piece o’ shit like that should be nervous. 

Joel hated Larry. The man was fucking pathetic. Weasel-y. So needy and desperate to please. Joel hated that Larry sold him a woman for a water heater. What kinda man would do something like that? This was supposed to be a brothel. The women were supposed to be his employees. He didn’t have the right to sell anybody.

But Joel had wanted her. And taking her outright would have caused more problems than it would have solved. So he figured a water heater would help keep things peaceful between them. Because his boys liked the brothel. Each little trip helped ease their minds. Gave them something to talk about and look forward to–something other than survival.

Joel’s needs were more permanent. He needed something more full-time rather than once every few months.

His boys started hooting and hollering as soon as the payment of supplies were unloaded and they got to hang out inside. The women weren’t even around yet, but they were more than ready for some physical entertainment. Joel remained standing while the rest of them spread out along the decaying leather couches lining the walls. A shitty little cd player sat in the corner playing old R&B music. He heard his brother, Tommy, singing along to it. 

Joel sighed and wiped his face with his hands.

Once Larry brought out a few women, the men started roaring. They were shouting and cheering, pulling their cocks out in excitement. Joel groaned. These boys didn’t know a goddamn thing about seducing a woman and their sad little dicks weren’t gonna get them anywhere neither.

Two of the guys grabbed one of the women, causing her to shout, but Joel was on them not a second later. He gripped their skulls, one in each of his giant hands, and knocked them together like coconut shells. 

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” asked one of them, rubbing the sore spot on his head. 

Joel shook his head with his eyes wide, boring into the depths of their souls. “Not until I say,” he spat.

They both tucked their heads under, murmuring. “Yes, Joel.” “Whatever you say, Joel.”

The woman got back in line while the boys sat down on the couch.

“I’m sure I’ve got a couple more on the way,” said Larry with a forced smile. “They’re just getting themselves cleaned up, I’m sure, after uh…  after finishing dinner.”

Joel grunted. He knew what he wanted–knew what kind of woman he was looking for. And he was quick to realize that none of the women in the room were it. So he waved his hand and his men let loose.

Joel stood with his arms crossed and his back against the front door. He kept his eye on the two troublemakers. Kept his ear on Tommy. Tommy was a talker. He loved to chat up the working women as if he was in a bar back home in Texas and looking to find himself a girlfriend. Joel thought Tommy was being ridiculous—acting like the women could say ‘no’ and walk away. Like he had to put real effort in. It annoyed the hell out of Joel. He wanted his crew to have their fun and be done with it. Why did Tommy have to make it so complicated?

Joel was getting bored and antsy the longer he waited. He was feeling needy, too, with the rough sounds of sex filling the air around him. But he was hopeful, preferring to be patient. And if, in the end, there was no woman he wanted, he would pick one at random and blow off some steam. He would find a replacement some other time or start looking around at the nearest Quarantine Zone.

  Then you walked in. 

And at first, Joel was ready to shrug you off, too. Sure, you were attractive. But looks weren't everything. That's what got him in trouble with the last woman. 

But something in your eyes changed as you scanned the room, taking in the sexual depravity. You didn't shrink in and shut down. You were turned on. He saw the way your chest rose and fell as your breaths shallowed and shortened. The way you chewed your bottom lip. The way you squirmed. That's what Joel needed. Someone as needy as him. 

The brothel owner tried to dissuade him. Huh, Joel wanted to laugh. As if that asshole knew a goddamn thing about what Joel wanted–about what Joel needed.

-

“Take your clothes off ‘n get on the bed,” he ordered after slamming the door shut behind him. He liked how quickly you complied. He didn’t understand why you were so calm, though. He unbuckled his belt, releasing the pressure from his stomach and allowing himself some room to breathe. He let the buckle hang and it jingled as he stepped closer to the bed. 

“All fours.”

Again, you complied swiftly and smoothly, facing the back wall.

He eyed you for any sores. Then he slipped his bare hand around the smooth curve of your ass and his fingertips prodded around your lips and entrance. You were already wet, he realized.  He slid the edge of his fingers forward against your clit. 

You moaned. Something fake and bland. 

He pulled his hand away and slapped you on the ass. “Hey.”  He grabbed you by the cheeks when you didn't immediately face him. Your eyes never met his. “Don't fuckin showboat me,” he warned. 

“Okay,” you said flatly. 

He didn’t like how detached you were. How unafraid. But he willed himself to be patient–the amount of wetness coating his fingers eased his anxiety. He continued to play with your folds as he asked questions.

He cleared his throat. “You like workin here?”

You shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“How long you been here?”

“About a year.”

Joel hummed. “I don’t remember you from last time.”

“Probably had the flu.” 

“You got over it okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, closing your eyes. You seemed to like it when he moved his thick fingers around you real slow. He liked that.

“You got anything else? Any diseases?”

You shook your head. “I don’t get a lot of men.”

Joel paused. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. They like the other girls better.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged again. “They’re better at fakin it.”

Joel didn’t know how to feel about that answer. He continued to rub your clit, feeling you get slicker. “So what? You do handjobs, blowjobs?”

“Mostly.”

He noticed an uptick in the tone of your voice. “You like doin those?”

“If the guy is cute.”

He slid his fingers from your clit to your entrance to your other hole. He didn’t push in, only pressed against it, and you sighed. “What about this?” he asked, biting his lip. “You like gettin your ass played with?”

You hung your head and nodded. “If they do it right,” you said with another uptick in your tone. 

Joel liked that. “Ever have a train run on ya?” He slid his fingers back to your clit.

“Yeah,” you answered with a whimper. 

“You like it?”

Your breath hitched as Joel’s fingers sped up. “Been through worse.”

“Worse? Here?” Joel asked, wondering what could happen at a brothel that was worse than a gang-bang.

“No just… you know…” you sighed with pleasure. “--in general.” 

Joel furrowed his brows. You were being honest with him. Too honest, in his opinion. But you were rolling your hips into his hand. And he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. Your body twitched and you moaned–and it was different this time. Quieter. Realer. Joel liked that. He didn’t mind taking his time to get you ready if he knew you would enjoy it. 

“You like fuckin, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?” You snickered, pushing back into his thrusting hand.

Joel took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. But he knew then that he wanted you. That you were just what he needed and more.

#######

You liked this Joel guy. He took his time. He was asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You don’t remember the last time anyone had done that. …Well, maybe when you first started working there. Trisha and Carrie and a couple of the other women tried, but this felt different for some reason. Like it was leading somewhere. Like there was a promise at the end of it. Like maybe he really wanted to make you come and he wasn’t just there for himself. 

And you liked his voice. It was smoky and deep. He had an accent like a cowboy. It was comforting, in a way.

And his fingers felt nice. He knew what he was doing. You couldn't remember the last time a guy got you that wet with just his hand.

Part of you felt a little hopeful. You thought you might finally get to have some fun like the other girls did. Most of the guys you got were ugly or just plain ol’ depressing. Another part of you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason. You’re not sure why she kept coming up in your mind. You two never worked together. You barely knew her at all.

-

“You ever fuck the other women here?” Joel asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in proud affirmation. It even pulled a smile from you. 

“What's that mean?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to react. You weren’t sure why you answered that way. “It means… yeah,” you replied while embarrassment burned your cheeks. You had barely looked at him before, but now you really didn’t want to see his face.

“Yeah, you like fuckin women?” His voice turned breathy. You heard his buckle jingle and the slide of the zipper of his jeans. 

 It turned you on to know that he liked that. Some men hated it. Made you feel like shit for it. But man, this Joel guy was something else. It made you want more of him. More of his fingers. His voice. His skin. “Yeah,” you moaned and shoved yourself harder into his hands, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“So what? You lick their pussies? Rub your little cunts together?”

Your mouth hung open from his words. “yeah,” you said with a hot breath. He pulled his fingers from inside of you and drew circles on your clit. You started whimpering. You nodded your head as fire burned in your core and across your skin. 

“That’s why you work here, huh? You got a needy little cunt?”

His fingers were moving so fast, the muscles in your legs were jumping and your toes were curling. “Uh-huh,” you moaned loud enough for your voice to echo around the bare room.

“That why you left the Q-Z? This slutty hole wasn’t get fucked enough?” His fingers slid back inside your entrance. You’re not sure how many he stuffed in, but it was more than before. 

You nodded with a desperate moan, your right leg slapping the mattress beneath you in frustration. You needed more. His fingers, his words–they weren’t enough. Your body was hot and sparking and you needed-needed-needed. “Joel, please,” you begged, turning to face him, finally opening your eyes again. He was stroking himself and the sight of his cock made you drool. 

“Whatchu need, sweetheart?” He asked and you could almost kill him for it.  

“Please, please fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Need it that bad, huh?” He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants all the way down to the floor. 

You got out of the way as he crawled into the bed and sat up against the headboard. 

“Come and get this cock, you fuckin slut,” he growled. One hand held his length while the other pulled you by the arm. 

You were too hungry to notice how tightly he gripped you. You hovered over his lap as he lined himself up with your entrance. You stared at the curve of his lips on the way down, the mix of gray and brown hairs in his mustache. But there was white on his cheeks and chin. You briefly wondered how old he was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get a good look at his face. Too busy melting from the pressure of his cock stretching your walls. Fuck, it felt good. You braced yourself on his firm, wide shoulders and brought your hips back up a few inches before sinking down on his length even further. You groaned and tucked your head into his neck.

#######

You started sucking on his neck and his hips began to thrust up into you.

“It ain’t enough that I’m stuffin your cunt?” he grunted. “You need me in your mouth, too?”

You moaned against his throat, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “Yeah,” you said through panting breaths, before latching back on, teeth and tongue digging into his muscle. 

Joel liked you. He really liked you. You were wet and riding him just right. You weren’t mechanical about it, neither–like Joel was just another job to you. There was a sadness to you, sure. It was probably why you didn’t get a lot of men. Men wanted to forget their troubles at the brothel. Have some fun. They wanted the world outside to disappear with their cock inside a woman.

But Joel had tried that. And it hadn’t worked out so good.

So this time, he looked for someone different. Someone who would understand. Someone who would get why he needed to fuck and when and how he needed to fuck, too. 

And you were telling him everything he needed to know. He was learning what you wanted and what you liked and what he could use to threaten you into compliance. 

He pulled you away from his neck, not sure how he felt about being covered in hickeys. “Here,” Joel prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger. “Suck on this, you greedy little slut.”

And you did, moaning desperately as you rolled your hips in his lap. You gagged as he slid his fingers back and forth on your tongue, saliva spilling from the edges of your lips and down your chin. Your eyes were closed and he knew there was nothing going on in your mind. He knew you were focused on nothing but how good he was making you feel.

You started bouncing on his cock and he slapped your ass with his free hand. He gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, forcing you to stop.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Your eyes popped open–meeting his directly. You tried to pull your head away to answer, but Joel shoved his fingers in even further.

He repeated himself. “You tryin to come right now? Did I say you could?”

You let out a pathetic whine and shook your head.

He slapped your ass again and this time he noticed your pussy clench around him. He heard a small moan grow and die in your throat. “You come when I fuckin say you can come,” he snarled with his teeth clenched. He smacked your asscheek again and thrust up into you. 

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“That turn you on?” He gripped your ass in his hand. “You like takin’ your medicine, bad girl?”

You tried to turn your head, but Joel still had his fingers in your mouth and he held you in place. You looked at him with the most pathetic, pleading look.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growled with wide eyes. His cock twitched inside of you. “You like takin’ your medicine? You like bein told what to do?”

You squeezed your eyes shut again and quietly nodded.

Joel liked that. He liked that a lot. He took his fingers from your mouth and gripped your cheeks. Your eyes popped open again. He licked his lips. “You be a good girl and make me come first, then we’ll see what you get, okay?”

You nodded.

“Now what do you say?”

Your brows furrowed. 

“When I tell you what to do, what do you say?”

Your face softened. You blinked slowly before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right.” Joel grunted and thrusted his hips. “Now, make me come, you little slut.” His fingers dug into your own hips to guide your rhythm to what he wanted. “Make me come and we’ll see what you get.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” you murmured again and again.

Your warm, wet cunt sucked him in and stroked him. He could hear it, too, how drippy and turned on you were. It wasn’t long before he tossed you off him with a grunt, throwing you onto your back on the bed. He only fisted his cock twice before shooting his spend on your spread open pussy, on the hair on your mound. He wiped his cum down and around on your clit. “Come on, girl. You can come now. Come on,” he chanted. He rubbed your clit back and forth with the flat of his four fingers. “Give that greedy little cunt what it needs. Come on.”

Your body curled in as you orgasmed and you moaned loudly into your arm. Joel didn’t see the need for you to be quiet, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He rubbed you with his thumb until your legs clasped shut and you squirmed away.

He wiped his hands on the sheets and got up from the bed. He pulled his jeans back on, but waited to buckle his belt. He sat back down and put his shoes on.

You were still lying where he left you. Curled up in the fetal position. It almost looked like you were falling asleep. He figured you might as well rest up now. The drive back home was a bumpy one.

He sighed when he stood up. He figured he should get the liquor bottles out of the truck sooner than later. He huffed. Larry was a real piece of shit for trading a woman for liquor. But Joel wanted you. And he was gonna have you.

#######

You were reeling. Sexually, you were satisfied, but every other emotion bursted and channeled itself through your muscles and across your skin. You felt so vulnerable. This man had seen you–seen you! Like you were a real person or something! Like you weren’t just a ghost or a character in a movie! Everything felt wrong and you couldn’t figure out why. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason.

You stayed as still as possible until you heard Joel’s booted footsteps leave the room. You were grateful he didn’t say anything or try to touch you again. Your body trembled as you got out of the bed. You walked on shaky legs to the bathrooms to clean yourself. The world around you was so close and too clear. You could hear and differentiate everyone’s voices in the main room. The air was humid and you could taste it–actually taste it like it was a wet, moldy cloud in your mouth. 

Your hands tremored. You tried to exert control over them, but you were barely able to turn on the sink. You mostly swatted at the faucets until water came out. And there was no comfort to be had in the warm, rushing water. You noticed tension in your cheeks and thought you wanted to cry, but couldn’t make any tears come out.

The woman in the mirror scared you. It was you. You knew it was you. But she felt unfamiliar. Three dimensional. You wanted to run. Run away to the Quarantine Zone or—or anywhere but here.

Then you heard screaming, shrill screams from what had to be one of the other women. Suddenly you were being dragged out of the bathroom. Trisha’s hands were on you. Her fingers were small and thin and her skin was smooth and cold. You had never noticed before.

The lights in the main room were so bright that you could see everything. Every small piece of leather that had flaked off each of the couches and landed on the dirty, carpeted floor. The carpet itself was covered in dust and dirt and leaves. Where did the leaves come from? you wondered. How did they get tracked inside? Weren’t people wiping their shoes like they were supposed to?

There were people moving around. Naked. Half-naked. Clothed. All talking over each other. And blood. Bright red blood. One of the women, with long gold hair, was covered in it, shrieking in pain with both her hands on her hip. Two others guided her past you towards the back. One of Joel’s men was apologizing to Larry. He had black curly hair and a thick mustache. Larry was screaming in his face.

You saw Joel from the back as he pushed himself up from the couch. His shoulder rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths. There was blood dripping from his fist and there was someone beneath him. Once he stepped away, you saw an oblong fleshy ball of bright red where a face should have been. The body beneath the ball didn’t move. 

You folded in half and started heaving. Trisha shrieked in your ear. 

“I’m so sick of you assholes coming here and-and-and-and–” Larry was caught in a loop as he pulled his gun from his pocket. It was a small revolver. You watched his gray-skinned thumb pull back the hammer. “I’m sure! I’m sure!” he yelled over the shouting.

The man with the black curly hair lunged at Larry with a curse. 

The gun-shot stilled everyone in the room. It was loud enough that for a moment, you thought you had been shot. The vibrations pierced you to the very center of your being. But then… Larry was on the floor. Sprinkled with dust from the ceiling tile. And then there was more blood. Bright red blood spilling out from his body. 

You breathed in relief. Not only that you were still alive, but that it was Larry that was dead. For a few beautiful seconds, you felt free. Free from his bullshit and free from the brothel. Free to go back to the quarantine zone and start over again.

Trisha’s smooth fingers pulled one of your arms, but something warm and calloused pulled your other. You looked up, confused. It was Joel. Joel’s hand, which had been on you only minutes previous, felt so strange and unfamiliar. You had just shared a bed with him but–that had been a different man. Certainly different than the one that stood before you now with blood-splattered on his clothes and sweat beading around his temples. 

“You can’t take her!” Trisha cried, tears pouring out her eyes. “You can’t take her!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said. Joel’s eyes looked sad. “She’s mine now.”

Terror fell over you like a cold, biting wind. He was talking about you.

Your body started trembling again. You tried and failed to pull your arm away from his grip. “NO!” You shouted. Your vision went blurry as you sobbed. “Don’t take me! Please!” That was why you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie. Joel had bought Carrie. Trisha had told you that Joel had bought Carrie. But the information hadn’t clicked into place. You had spent so long avoiding your body, avoiding feeling any emotion at all that when it spent all night trying to warn you, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t feel the siren in your gut telling you to stay away from Joel. And now that siren was loud and clear. But it was far too late for you to do anything about it. “Don’t take me! Pleasepleaseplease!”

Joel didn’t budge. He leaned in real close to you. “Now you told me you like bein told what to do.” Your face went fiery hot with shame. He yanked your arm, pulling you from Tasha’s grip. “And right now, I’m tellin you that you’re comin with me.” He continued to pull you out the front door, towards his truck.

“No! Nonono!” You cried. You tried one more time to shake him off, but it was pointless. He was too strong. You were too weak. And you started to wonder if you could have prevented this or if it was simply your fate. Your own boss hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to these men. What could someone like you have done?

You sobbed into your hands as you sat in the truck. The man with the black curly hair got in the driver’s seat. Joel sat on the other side of you and rubbed your back in some sick attempt at comfort. “You be good for me–” he said, adjusting himself. “--then we’ll see what you get.” 

+++++

a/n: Please let me know if I missed a tag. Also, idk if it's really a DDDNE story or not. ??

story title taken from the song "Mary the Ice Cube" by Primus.

[kabutoden]

another set of fantrolls! Themis, Leonol, and Chaoyi. DETAILED LORE below readmore!!!

Themis is the head of the jade caste at the school and she takes her roll very seriously, pressuring younger trolls in her caste not to use their recently-acquired rights to NOT work in the caverns, but instead live a life of their choosing. AKA, there is a lot of social pressure on jades to conform to their expected duties and Themis is a traditionalist who wants the jades at school to appear unified and strong. Thusly, Melosa's misbehavior and outright hatred for the jade caste drives her crazy, especially considering Melosa's rare and special morph. She doesn't want

She's named 'themis' for artemis, because it was artemis killed the shit out of babies. Themis believes strongly in culling/letting trolls experience harshness to grow up strongly. her godtier is Judge of Void.

Leonol is a male oliveblood with a lot of RAW CONFIDENCE for being like 4 sweeps old. i wanted to make a catboy bc i already had two oliveblooded catgirls. hes based on that chill and confident big tomcat with the big cheeks type vibe. based on sphinx moth+sabertooth tiger. prince of doom because he destroys doom itself. dont worry. leonol's got it handled. even though hes like, 8. Chaoyi is Melosa's sister, younger by only a couple sweeps. Melosa was left with a virgin spotted mothergrub lusus that didn't bond with her, and as a result spent her first few sweeps barely surviving as the VSM grew more and more incensed at the 'pest' in it's living space. their relationship frew more and more antagonistic and they badly injured each other, melosa fleeing and being presumed dead while the jades, finally visiting the hive after a few sweeps, were horrified to find a mothergrub so badly injured. the VSM was returned to the jade caverns to recover physically and mentally. during this time, it bonded with a second child still a grub, and the jades let the VSM keep it's new charge.

upon discovering the VSM had a different kid in the hive, melosa initially feared the VSM to be hunting the wriggler as she'd grown up, only to be more distraught to learn chaoyi was healthy, happy, and cared for. melosa almost started another fight with the VSM, which was defending chaoyi from her, and cut off half her own hair in an act of defiance. initially, chaoyi couldn't possibly believe melosa to be her sister, because she had such a good relationship with her lusus, but after she wasn't believed by the jade adults checking up on the VSM's health that melosa had survived, she realized melosa had to be right.

melosa kept stopping by home and visiting chaoyi because if the VSM started hurting another wriggler, melosa wasn't going to let them handle it alone like she had. she didnt care about chaoyi's opinion and was shocked when chaoyi apologized and believed melosa. the two have an extremely awkward relationship but they are also both very dear to each other, and consider the other important family.

(while the mothergrub did abuse and neglect melosa, it's not really either's fault. most lusus are ultimately animals, including the mothergrubs, and she never recognized melosa as her own child. its based on animals rejecting their own bbs, which i witnessed a couple years ago. lots is left out of this desc of chaoyi and melosa but this is the summary.)

[parkminijiminie]

AYS - Jeju trip /my recap/

Now that all of the Jeju episodes have aired, I've come back to quickly share my opinion. Disclaimer: This is just my opinion and speculation, you are more than free to disagree with me.

Overall, I managed to enjoy the episodes despite my initial hesitation. I was 50-50 about the first episode and I liked the other two. It wasn't a full love because while watching, I couldn't relax completely knowing how certain things would be twisted later on, but overall I enjoyed Jeju much more than I anticipated.

Let's start with the obvious difference between Jeju and NY, namely "the guest". TH's presence didn't add anything of value for me, apart from some cute Vmin moments and very few but still cute Vminkook ones. His being there didn't show me any new insight into their relationships, and there was no major change in either Vmin or Taekook. Even though Tae and JK spent a lot of time together in the first half of 2023, I didn't see any change in their dynamics or any new emotional depth to it. As many people have already said, JK and Tae together are two kids bouncing off each other's energies. They really bring out the immaturity in each other, and even if I tried, I could not get any romantic vibes from their interactions. Jk made it abundantly clear that TH being there was something he didn't choose and even seemed mildly annoyed by it the first day.

When it comes to JM and JK, this trip also didn't show anything new for me, but rather things I've always associated them with - their own private jokes, their being in sync with each other at all times, just existing in their own little world. They really do click. I loved their scenes at the pool, both days, I loved that JK is JM's personal chef, I loved that JM always pays attention to what JK is doing, even when driving, I loved their little joint routine at all times of the day. This really was JM and JK's trip through and through, and even a third party being there didn't really change anything. The only time we didn't have the signature JK and JM interactions was when JM was feeling unwell, after that they were back to their usual antics.

Jeju to me showed them being as close as ever. None of the tension and awkwardness from NY was present, which means that whatever issues they previously had, it was all resolved between the two trips.

As for them individually, I would say I am more and more and more amazed with Jimin with every new footage of this man I see. Firstly, he is just so naturally uniquely gorgeous. I kept staring at his bare face and wondering how one person could be so pretty even when sleeping, driving, and feeling sick. It's just like magic to me. More than that, he is just a class act through and through. He is polite, fun, considerate, energetic, just the whole package.

When it comes to JK, I would say he is a special person and probably a lot to handle in real life. He can be really sweet and his love language is definitely acts of service, but he also has an immature side to him. Maybe that comes from being the youngest and I think it was especially amplified because he was with the youngest members who always let him off easily. I think he is very kind-hearted, definitely not mean-spirited like some people make him out to be, but he is also a little bit impulsive at times. Personally, for me, he would probably be a little too much to handle in real life, but I can see that JM for sure knows how to handle him really well. As for JK's feelings towards Jimin, I think this boy lives and breathes for Jimin's attention. When JM is near, he is downright obsessed with having his eyes on him. He truly is like a big energetic, sometimes unruly puppy, wanting to be played with, praised, and loved upon. I can't really blame him, though. I, too, would turn into a clown or a personal chef, if it meant having Park Jimin's love and attention directed at me. In my opinion, nobody could truly deserve Jimin, but it is clear that Jimin truly adores Jungkook.

Jeju definitely showed that Jm and Jk have a very special type of relationship. The vibes between them were as weird as ever and it left me with more questions about the nature of their relationship than answers, but then again, this is also nothing new. 2023 Jikook remains confusing to me, but I am okay with that.

In conclusion, I liked the Jeju trip and I am not afraid to admit I love the solo parts between Jm and Jk the most. After all, this is what I paid for and wanted to see from the beginning and I am glad there were still plenty of JM and JK solo interactions. While these three episodes were better than what I expected them to be, I am the most excited about the upcoming Japan ones. I must admit I dreaded the Jeju episodes a little bit, which is why I actually didn't watch the first two right away, but I am fully, and 100% excited about Japan.

[prairiedawn]

On Jon and Choices

Back when I was a kid (and I think for some time after) the schools where I lived were very much invested in framing discipline as a set of choices. Everything a child could do or fail to do, from fighting to not putting a name on a paper was a choice.

You chose not to bother to turn in the homework you spent an hour doing. You chose to catch the attention of a bully. This seemed, to me, to put me on the wrong side of choices I did not know I was making. And if I said so--I didn't choose not to write my name on my paper--then I would be treated to a long chain of actions I might have taken that, were I neurotypical, might have resulted in me doing The Correct Thing. I think this emphasis on "there always had to have been a way you could have made all the right choices and made no mistakes and you should have known through foresight what was deducible by hindsight" is behind a lot of the psychology of TMA. Elias uses it explicitly, as does Annabelle Cane (the two characters who have the most real power in the narrative) to systematically strip Jon of his agency while insisting that he is doing it to himself by making choices that are either A. perfectly reasonable under the circumstances, B. Influenced by outside forces he was unaware of, or C. A forced choice between Terrible and Also Terrible. And the way other people in his life (other than Elias and Annabelle, who are doing it On Purpose) respond to him seems informed by that same false belief that if he was only better he could prevent every bad outcome.

He's being held responsible for his own abuse and the behavior of his abusers in a way that feels painfully familiar.

[thechillsquid]

Blind Eyes- Fiddlesticks

Fiddleford McGucket is an absolute vibing lad in this au, and like that’s kinda the main difference between him and canon. Rather than get consumed by his paranoia and fear, he’s been forced to face it head on to help someone he cares about.

And like, mans got the weirdest fucking support system out of this situation, like he ends up with not 1. but 2. conmen bfs. Which is ironic in the sense that the people most adapt at telling lies and hiding who they really are to not only the rest of the world but themselves are the ones that come to be Fidds biggest sources of truth. Like absolutely wild. Espically when Bill fucking terrified him for so long before Fidds decided that he was done being used by people.

Then there’s Stan, like at first, Fidds could not figure the guy out and I’d imagine it would have been hella frustrating for both of them trying to work on this portal together. But they’re also just inherently lonely people and it makes sense that eventually they’d figure it’s better to be lonely together than at each others throats.

I think that’s probably what shifted the relationship with Bill now that I think of it. Because while Stan and Fidds were still figuring each other out and this new dynamic, Bill was more able to pick away at both of their insecurities and vulnerabilities. But as the two men got closer and became genuine friends, Bill’s words kinda went to the back burner.

Like, if Fidds had to choose one liars words over the other, everytime he’d choose Stan’s. Even after the 30 years and the time to get used to each other, Stan is a major source of support Fidds can go to.

Bill may have changed during the time building the portal, but it doesn’t mean the triangle knows how to comfort someone. Demon boi may know the right things to say to poke about at someone’s ego or manipulate them to his cause, but he’s struggling with genuineness. The summer spent with the kids actually does a lot for Bill in that regard, cause faced with these two curious yet fragile and growing beings, it’s like a slap to the face. And Bill needed that, cause sure, he may have been around when Soos and Wendy entered the picture, and he may have had fun teaching them some questionable things like how to make a pipebomb or how to hide a body, he never really saw them as more than ‘those kids that show up sometimes.’

The twins being there 24/7 means he’s got to face a lot more things about himself than he realizes. And Fidds gets to watch this all go down.

Speaking of which, I’ve been having fun coming up with different nicknames for McGucket. Espically figuring who uses what name for him.

Stan- Fiddlestick, fiddleshit (used when the kids aren’t around), fiddlefuck (also used when the kids aren’t around), Fidds, Banjo

Bill- Specs, Glasses, Fiddleford (yeah the weirdo uses his full name), Fidds

The kids- Grunkle McGucket, Fidds, Grunkle Fidds (they tried asking him if he went by Ford at all and unknowingly nearly caused three grown idiots to have a break down in the kitchen), Mabel also probably rhymes shit or comes up with different stuff on the fly depending on the situation

About everyone else- McGucket (that’s what most people call him), Old Man McGucket (mostly used when differentiating/clarifying between Fiddleford and Tate), Fiddleford (Gideon mostly does this, Fidds can’t stand the brat and has helped Stan on some of his stupid revenge plots just for this reason), The Shack’s lunatic (in the early days when Fidds was still very unstable and working with Stan initially, lots of people that subsquentially started visiting the shack for the mad scientist appeal thought Fidds was crazy; most people don’t use this nickname anymore cause he’s cleaned up his act though sometimes the teenagers will whisper about it), Bill’s boyfriend (self explanatory), Stan’s boyfriend (While their relationship is more aligned with a queerplatonic relationship, neither mind this), McBucket (he got his head stuck in a bucket once while in town, the nickname haunts him), Fiddlefreak (used in the early days, sometimes the teenagers use it when he’s been seen doing weird shit), etc.

He’s just a silly guy doing silly shit, and has a causal continual record

[weird-is-life]

hii, I love your works and I thought about making a request.

Last year for Halloween I dressed up as a Shadowhunter, but I was upset because no one recognized my costume. So I thought about Spencer Reid overhearing Reader explaining their costume to the others and noticing how she's a bit upset about that. So he makes as much research as he can before he goes to Reader to talk about their costume and how perfect it is for Halloween, even if at first not everyone would notice that

Thank you so much for reading this, I send you lots of love <33

Ty for the request and ty so much loving my work🥹🥹hope this is okay and I'm so freaking sorry, I wrote it so late🥺warnings: fluff, mentions of drinks, fem!reader(but can be read as gn!reader), (0.6k)

You know, it was a big mistake to come to the Bau's Halloween party dressed like that, the minute you step a foot into the room.

You greet almost everybody you know there and their confused faces tell you everything you need to know.

You look stupid.

You didn't realise, when you were picking out your costume, that it's not very popular, like at all. None of your colleagues recognise it, not even when you try to explain it.

Honestly, it breaks your heart a bit. Because you've spent quite some time finding things for it and then making it. So yeah, it hurts, that nobody has a clue what you're dressed as.

And the disappointment definitely shows on you. The initial radiating smile is reduced to a small, forced smile just for the sake of being 'happy' at a party.

And Spencer, one of your better friends from work, notices your mood change. The sad scowl would be kind of hard to miss.

He doesn't like seeing you upset like that and also he thinks you look really great in the costume. So he tries to inconspicuously listen to your conversation with someone to find out what your costume is.

He eventually hears you explain it and when he does, he takes his phone out of his pocket and types in the name.

He reads as much as he can find and as quickly as he can, the reading part is obviously no problem for him. It takes him only 10 minutes to learn everything he needs to talk to you about your costume.

He walks over to you, " hi, I love your costume. You look incredible. How did you manage to make it so identical?"

Your eyes go a little wider at his words at first, but then your whole face lights up.

"Y-you...you recognise it?" you ask sheepishly. You would never thing, not even in your wildest dreams, that Spencer could know what you were dressed as.

"Of course, of course I know. How could I not? You are obviously...." he says the name of your character and impossibly, your smile grows even bigger.

"I-I love your costume, too. You look awesome," he's dressed as a well-known scientist and he rocks it. No everybody could pull the white, messy hair, but he manages it perfectly.

His cheeks go a bit pink at your compliment," Thank you, Penelope helped me choose it, because I couldn't decide, which scientist should I go as from all of the greatest thinkers of the world."

"Well, she choose well," you smile at him, truly smile at him. It feels like it's your first true smile at this party.

Spencer smiles back at you and opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates.

"Yes?" You encourage him with a soft smile.

"Do you want to go get a drink with me?" he gestures at the bar behind him, eyes hopeful. He's been trying to get the courage to ask you out for a drink and this seems like a perfect opportunity.

"Dr. Reid are you trying to get me drunk?" you tease him cheekily.

His eyes go very wide," of course not, I would never. I just...-" he starts, freaked out. But when he sees you  smile, he relaxes," oh, you were kidding."

"Yes, Spencer. I'm sorry," you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing," I'd love to get a drink with you, though."

"Really?" Spencer asks.

"Yeah, c'mon," you take his hand in yours and start dragging him towards the bar, already asking him questions about how he knows the TV series/ film your costume is from.

[theheirofthesharingan]

There's a part in the Sasuke light novel where Sasuke praises Naruto for respecting Itachi's wishes, but still trying to exalt him in a meaningful way using his influence. Sasuke says Itachi wanted to leave his love for his little brother in the world, not hatred and anger. So not only is it addressed, but it's agreed upon by the only living Uchiha heir, the person who knew Itachi best, and someone who also has a stake in the matter.

While I kind of get your point about Itachi's thinking being self-defeating/self-loathing, I think it's unfair to act like that makes Itachi a victim of people like Naruto or Sasuke who "don't understand him". Itachi is dead and there was no real time to heal that part of him. Itachi also spent much of his life being told how he should think and act, and what should be what he wanted. He also spent his life negotiating those options and acting them out through the filter of his own worldview. His final wish is the only time he actually gets to voice and control what he wants his world to look like. What gives Sasuke or Naruto the right to decide what's best for him? Why would they even want to? It's true that "wanting his love for his brother to remain" could be increased by spreading the truth of the matter, but it would also foster more anger, more chaos, more distrust and hatred. Is that the correct action to take regarding transparency and accountability? Probably not, but the point of Itachi conveying his love to Sasuke was to trust him in being able to live in a way that spreads that. A more subtle means to the same end.

Fuck Kakashi though. Itachi looked up to him and Kakashi didn't give a fuck about what that meant.

Please know that whenever I'm criticizing something or someone on Itachi's behalf, I'm not including Sasuke in it. And I don't think Itachi is a victim of Sasuke (or even Naruto) because Sasuke probably has no say in what he feel, and Kakashi remained Hokage for 12 years before Naruto took over. There was sufficient time to fix things if Kakashi himself wanted to do something about it.

I also understand that truth coming out would result in ugly consequences and no one other than Sasuke loves Itachi, so to them well-being of the village is above everything else. If anyone clears Itachi's name now, gives him honour and all now, it's useless. Even Sasuke forgiving him didn't heal anything in him. So what are they going to do clearing his name a decade after his death? Nothing.

However, it doesn't make it any less frustrating that he was never give a chance to live a life that he would have wanted. A lot of people in the Narutoverse as well as the fandom take things far too literally when they say "he was confident" and "he wanted things a certain way" as if that's all he who was. Just like other kids he too had a fragility and innocence, and he was failed by every single adult in his life. And he died believing he didn't deserve better.

He suffered way more for the things he did and even didn't do whereas people who hurt him were either considered good guys or faced no consequences. Why is it the actual criminals don't get punished, but for Itachi we have to choose the better option between "being hated" and "being forgotten"?

To me, manga alluding to the information from the novel makes them relevant. I'm aware that in Sasuke's novel Naruto told people and also that no one questioned him. But again, no one also seemed to question that how come Itachi, who was reputed to kill his clan single-handedly, who was an Akatsuki, ended up saving lives in war and why? Wasn't war started by the Akatsuki?

How many people today even know or remember him? Hiruzen has his ugly face carved on the rock. I'm not even saying you have to install Itachi's statues everywhere, but at least punish the people who are alive who destroyed his life, who were responsible for annihilating an entire clan, which included innocent people.

Kakashi disappointed me with both Sasuke and Itachi. After learning why Sasuke had joined the Akatsuki, his first reaction was he needed to kill Sasuke. I excuse Naruto characters a lot because of their trauma, but what trauma response this was? The same for his indifference towards Itachi.

I love Kakashi, but he disappointed me so darn much.

[lunar-wandering]

i'm so obsessed with my "reaper that's scared of ghosts" oc that it's not even funny like it's starting to become an actual problem

“Hey, kid.”

The voice made Annette look up. Before her was a man, who was bending over slightly to be at her eye level.

“My name is Rocky.” He said, glancing off to the side as he did so, “And I'm going to be your reaper for the day.”

Now, Annette had already known she was dead. This did not come to a shock to her. She had been dead for about a week after all. That was totally enough time to become accustomed to her new state of being. Totally.

The reaper was a surprise though. After seven whole days of nothing she had begun to think that this was going to be how the rest of her 'life' was going to play out.A lifetime spent living alone, all by herself, with nobody able to see her, and no one to talk to.

“You're late.” She decided to say, as the reaper tilted the pole end of his scythe towards her, indicating for her to grab it, waiting until after she'd done so before turning around and starting to walk, with her trailing behind him.

“I know, I know.” Rocky said, looking forwards, “But there was a lot of evil spirits on the way between your location and the nearest entrance to the Otherworld, and I figured it'd be better to get rid of them first before leading you there. Easier to wait a little bit instead of having to fight while protecting someone, right?”

Annette supposed she could see the logic behind that.

“I still would've liked to have known that there was going to be a reaper though.” She said, “Couldn't you have come and talked to me first?”

Rocky didn't respond. Annette kept her eyes firmly on the reaper's back as they turned a corner.

“...And why are you having me hold the scythe anyways?” She asked, “Most of the times when people talk about a reaper leading someone to the afterlife, the reaper holds the person's hand.”

Still no answer. Hm. Maybe she only got to get one question answered after death, and she'd wasted it.

Well.

No.

Actually.

Her first statement hadn't been a question, had it? So that couldn't be it. Maybe this reaper in particular was just rude. That would be just her luck, getting stuck with a rude reaper.

Either way it was clear this guy wasn't going to answer any more of her questions, so she decided to shut up, focusing on the area around her as she walked. This was a path that she herself had taken many times on her way to school when she was alive- was there really a path to the afterlife this way?

Suddenly, Rocky stopped, Annette only having seconds to stop herself from running into him. And then, he turned, down a side street- one that Annette knew for a fact looped back around to the street they were already on. Still, she remained quiet. Maybe the entrance was somewhere down this way?

Except it wasn't. Except, a few minutes later, they were back on the same street they had started on, just a little bit further down.

Annette blinked for a moment, glancing behind her, and then glancing back at Rocky.

To hell with staying quiet.

“Why'd we do that?” She asked, “It would've been faster if we just stayed on this street.”

“...Evil spirit.” Rocky muttered. Ah, so he could answer her, he just was choosing not to.

“I don't see anything.” Annette glanced back at the street behind her again. “Also, didn't you say earlier that you'd already gotten rid of all the evil spirits? What, was there just something about that street in particular that you didn't like?”

From the way Rocky's back tensed, she must've been right on the money. Once again she looked back, trying to spot anything on that part of the street in particular that could make a reaper want to avoid it. As far as she could tell, it was just the same as the part she was currently on.

Or well, it was the same... if you ignored the Halloween shop that had opened up there a few days prior to her death. A little funny of her, she supposed, to die in October, but-

“Not a fan of Halloween?” Annette smirked a little as Rocky did a whole body twitch, like he had winced. “What, is it offensive to reapers or something?”

“No... m-most of the others actually like that sort of thing.” Oh, his voice had trembled for a moment there. He suddenly started to walk faster, and Annette had to swap to a light jog in order to keep up.

“So? Why don't you like it?” No response. Well, Annette wasn't one to let a mystery just go unsolved. She wracked her brain for a moment... “What, do you not like the horror movie type stuff? Are you scared of it?”

Rocky froze midstep, and this time Annette did run into him. Rocky awkwardly jerked when she did so, like his body had tried to jump away from her and he had done everything in his power to keep it from doing so.

And, thinking about it, now that she had brought it up…

“You're scared of me too, aren't you?” She asked, “I mean, you haven't looked at me once this whole time.”

“No I'm n-not.” Ah, his voice had trembled again.

“You so are.”

“Not.”

“Turn around and look at me then.” She let go of the scythe to put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot as she waited. Slowly, Rocky turned around, and after a few seconds of simply staring at some space above her head, looked down at her for the first time.

A cat chose that exact moment to walk straight through her. It was an odd sensation, to have things walk through you, but she was starting to grow used to it.

However, it seemed to have some kind of effect on Rocky, who suddenly listed a bit to the side, stumbled, and then crumbled to the ground.

“Ah.” Annette said, rather calmly, turning to the cat that was now sitting innocently beside her. “He died.”

He'd actually just passed out, but sudden death was much more dramatic.

Rocky shifted, before slowly starting to push himself off the pavement. Annette crouched down beside him as though she were watching a rather interesting ant.

“Hey, Mr. Reaper?” She said, “Y'know what? Being scared of ghosts cannot be all that good for your health. I think you need a paid vacation.”

“I w-wish.” Rocky muttered, “I don't even get paid.”

[stefanmikaleson1864]

My Life / Our Life

My Life / Our Life 

A/N : I really hope everyone enjoy this !!! I am so excited for this piece ! :)

If you like my work please comment , like and reblog it means a lot to see interaction on my work !

Family was the only thing that have ever mattered to you. I know it sounds cheesy but it’s true.

You home life wasn’t the greatest. Your mom and dad weren’t bad people, they weren't just the greatest parents. 

You also didn’t have a lot of friends either. You were by far the tallest and the biggest kid in class. Kids always made fun of you because of your weight

But all that changed when a Blonde hair kid and his little brother transferred into your school.

The day Courtland saw you sitting alone eating your lunch he took to you. You were beautiful and he just knew there was something in you that he needed, that he wanted.                 

So you choose your family. Court and his brother were your chosen family. They were about the same age as you. 

There home life wasn’t good either. Their piece of shit father was an abuser. 

So you all kind of made the best of your situation. You spent the nights a lot at their house.

Court always protected and hid you the best he could from the violence. He knew at your home it wasn’t the best either. At least their you were with him and he could protect you. 

Growing up you knew you had to study hard to go to a good school and get away.

You wanted to study journalism and tell the stories that mattered. You never had a voice before so doing this finally had one. 

Court’s Brother kind of shifted as he got older.

Things got hard as as they got older their dad was getting worse and worse. When he was eighteen and you were sixteen that night changed the trajectory of all of your lives. 

You weren’t there when it happened. You and Court were both grateful for even more so court.

It had reached a breaking point and he knew it was going to be his dad or his brother and that was a easy choice. 

You remember being home an seeing the police come out. Every being nosey rushed out of their homes to watch. You just had this undeniable bad feeling in your gut. Something was wrong and you were to afraid to find out. 

But nonetheless you ran outside, and what you saw broke you into a million pieces. You watched as a handcuffed bloody  Court was being escorted out of the house. He kept his down not looking. 

Your natural instinc was to run to him. You didn’t know what you were going to do but you know you needed to do something, anything. 

Your parents and sisters were outside and you yelled his name breaking out of the clutch your dad had on you. 

You caught him just as he was at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at you and he had a blank look on his face. His eyes were scanning yours and it looked like it took hm a moment to process that it was you. 

When he did his face softened up and he looked at you with tears in his eyes. 

“I love you it’s going to be okay I promise you” You said to him 

“I love you more” He said quietly. 

Then the cops took him away. You didn’t break eye contact the whole time. He kept his head turned looking at you the whole time. 

It truly broke every single thing in your body seeing that. Your feet were frozen in that space and it felt like the weight of everything was in your shoulders. 

Watching as they carried out his dad’s body on a stretcher you didn’t even have to ask who it was. You already knew there was no question. 

The weeks and the months had passed sense. No one was allowed inside of the house for a while. It was a crime scene after all. 

Court’s Brother had gone and vanished which hurt. You two always cared about each other even when we was gone he still reached out. When he was home he loved to annoy you and do typical brother things.

Home was getting harder. Hearing your parents talk about how they knew he was trouble. Like they ever even gave him a thought before. 

You couldn’t see him, which hurt you weren’t 18 and your parents weren’t sure as hell as taking you to see a murder.

Their words which was just untrue. He wasn’t a nasty or vile person. He was in a bad situation. And he was a protector and he had a choice to make. 

You two did write letters though. He never talked to you about the inside though.

He only wanted to talk about you. You tried asking him was he okay , did he need anything. He just avoided it. He didn't want you worried or upset. 

 A year had gone by sense that day and the trial was offical starting. You woke up early and caught the bus to be there for him. You were the only person in his corner. Maybe just maybe because he was a kid and his background they would let him go easy. 

His lawyer asked you to testify in his defense. He shut it down immediately, he said there was no way he was going to ask you to do that. He didn’t even want you at his trial. Not that he was utterly grateful for you.

It just killed him that you had to see him like that. You were young to you deserved to be shopping with friends and being a kid. Also seeing you and not being able to touch you or hold you close killed him. 

You didn’t listen to him though a bad habit of yours. Always telling him he didn’t control you and you were your own person.

So you testified anyways telling the judge and jury and everyone who would listen how much of a amazing person he was. 

How he was your protector , your friend , your mentor. Someone who always picked out the pink starburst because he knew you loved them.

When you felt insecure about your weight because you were plus size he always told you how beautiful you were. How every day he made you feel like you mattered. 

How he eas everything good in this world that life had to offer 

He mattered to he was someone , just because he got delt bad cards in life it didn’t mean that he should pay for it with the rest if his life. You pleaded with them to give him a chance. 

When you were done you saw Court wipe a tear from his eye. Not that he would ever admit it. But sadly your pleas weren’t enough. And at the ripe old age of eighteen they decided to just send him away for life. 

When they said the verdict you let out a sob. Feeling like your heart was ripped out of your chest. There was no way you heard it right. Court just sat there not showing emotion but feeling it on the inside. 

Your sob was something he would never forget. How he felt so broken. 

You struggled after a lot. He stopped writing you back. But that didn’t stop you from sending them anyways. You talked about everything and anything to him. He loved and hated them. He loved hearing anything about you. 

But he hated them he wanted to let you go. As much as it hurt he knew you deserved a life and you needed to move on and be happy. That’s all he ever wanted from you was to be happy. 

A few months after the trial you found out you got accepted into your dream school. You couldn’t believe UCLA wanted you. Not to mention a full scholarship everything you worked so hard for. 

At the same time you got accepted into a smaller state school with a full ride. It was close to the prison Court was at. 

You knew as much as you dreamed about LA you couldn’t leave him behind. He would have been all alone. In a few months you would have been eighteen. 

You could be there and see him when ever you wanted. So you made a choice , which everyone in your life disagreed. All this for a man who would never breath free air again. 

But that’s thing it was your choice. No one else’s.Court was always there for you so it was time you returned the favor. 

So you wrote to him about college. You left out the UCLA part but told him where you were going to school. It was close by and you could come see him all the time.

His heart broke into a million pieces. He knew how much you dreamed about LA. He was also proud you for getting into a school with a free ride. He didn’t want you in the prison though that was a big fear. 

He had changed in the two years he had been here. He didn’t talk anymore he had built up a wall and he became more distant. It was the only was he could survive. He didn’t want you exposed to this.

So when you graduated high school and moved into your dorm. It was a bittersweet feeling. You were so happy but also feeling so many different emotions of loss , guilt and emptiness. 

But college life was fun. You meant  a great group of friends. You felt like you belonged and you were happy and content with your choice now. 

You were bubbling with excitement as your eighteenth birthday had approached. It meant you could see him again. 

No one at school knew about it. They didn’t understand and you didn’t want to be judged. 

So finally when it came around and you were happy about the gifts and the cake and the party in your dorm your friends made you. You were ready for the big day.

When it finally came you put on your prettiest outfit and asked your friend to help you with your makeup. 

The butterflies were strong in your stomach. You got up early and caught the busses down. When you saw the fenced walls and the barbwire you couldn’t help but suddenly feeling nervous and unsure. 

But you pushed it down and knowing when you saw him it would be worth it. 

You were shocked to see so many people there. It was nerve wracking seeing the cops and it was so loud in there. 

Being searched literally scared you and left you un easy. But when they walked you into the visitors room and sat you down. You quickly let all that go. 

Court knew you were coming. They told him he had a visitor on his list and he instantly knew it could only be you. He knew he should be strong and not come out. Maybe you be so hurt you would stop talking to him. 

But he couldn’t do that not to you. You deserved better than that. He needed to see you , he needed that breathe of fresh air. He needed a reason to keep going because he was slowly loosing it. 

So when the day came he got so excited but of course he wouldn’t show it. His face looked like you better not fuck with me. 

As he walked down the long hallway he could feel the excitement and nervousness bubbling up in his belly.

And when he saw you sitting there it was like he could breathe again. Like that exhale that he didn’t know he needed to finally let out. 

The walk over to you felt like it took forever. But when he made it he sat down next to you. you both were made very clear on the no touching rule. God it killed him so bad. 

You smelled like vanilla, like a cookie. It made him smile a little. You looked gorgeous and you were glowing. God you were so damn beautiful. 

“Hey” You breathed out, letting out the same deep breath. 

“Hey” He said, looking at you. 

“Y/n” He started.

It made you worried the way he said it. You knew what he was going to say .

“Our life” was all you said. 

He knew what you meant. You both had said it so many times together. It wasn’t just your life with your our’s because we were family. 

He looked at you with a soft look on his face like he was holding back some tears he was to worried to let out. Despite being hard inside you always broke him. 

“You deserve a life , something I can’t give you in here” He saId. 

You so badly wanted to grab his hand and give it a squeeze. 

“I know what I want and who I want it with i make my own choices” You said. 

“I don’t want to hold you back” He said 

“Your not I promise” You said. 

“Now let’s talk about happy things only happy things.” You said 

“Deal”: was all he said. 

As the years went out you made sure to both keep you word to that statement. No matter how bad it was out for the both of you only happy things were talked about in your visits. 

They were constant twice a week every time you could. And as the years went on both you changed. You worked as a freelance writer. Traveling between Maryland and New York because New york is where the work was. 

Court had changed to, He was getting older and he started becoming more and more like a shell.

He knew you were getting older to you had needs and a life that you wanted he couldn’t provide you. 

He wanted to know who you were out there with and were they touching you the way he wanted to touch you. The life he always dreamed of giving you. 

But little did he know you weren’t seeing anyone. You tried hard but it wasn’t the same your heart belonged to him. No one could replace him.

You didn’t want to tell him that because you didn’t want him to feel guilty because of your own choices. 

Little did you both know a big change was coming. That would really change the rest of your lives. 

You went in for your usual visit but they told you he couldn’t bee seen. Which made you worried, I mean someone would tell you if something happened right ? 

The visit from these people also took Court by surprise he had no idea who else would want to see him. 

He was pulled into a more private room which made him become more nervous. He sat in a room for a while alone before a suit walked in. 

The suit didn’t say anything to him just sat down. He threw Court some bubblegum, and Court took it. 

Court wasn’t going to ask any questions he wanted to feel him out. He wanted to be in control. But the other suit also wanted to be in control so who was going to break?

Finally the suit decided it was time to stop playing games. He opened up the file and pretend to read it. He knew Court that was the whole reason why he was here. After a few minutes the suit looked at him. 

“How would you like a get out of jail free card”? The suit said. 

Court felt his heart skip a beat and he was intrigued. He didn’t want it to show or get his hopes up for that matter. 

“Tell me what do you want” Court asked. Leaning up and looking the guy in the eyes scanning his emotions. 

The suit never faltered he just kept his cool and didn’t show anything. 

“Have you heard of the Sierra program” He asked not even following up.

“Was I supposed to” Court asked. 

The suit just chuckled and then opened up then closed the file in front of him. 

“Listen we want you your skilled and i’ve been keeping track of you in here I know everything about you” The suit said.

“Oh really” Court said.

“Look well train you to become a well trained assassin you work for us you do what we say when we say” The suit said.

“Yeah sure okay” Court said. 

The suit pulled something out of his pocket and it was his ID proving his identity. 

“You agree and your out of jail” The suit said. 

“Thank but no thanks” Court said. He  never was a killer. He didn’t want to sign his life away for some government propaganda. 

“You could see her , touch her again” The suit said. 

Court felt his protectiveness coming out. How the hell did they know about you. Was they threatening you ? 

“Leave her the hell out of this” Court said he wanted so badly to ring this guy out because he kept his calm. 

“Wow you must love her this is the most emotion i’ve seen from you” The Suit said. 

‘Look i’m not going to hurt her I wouldn’ i have no reason to but I do have an offer, right now she’s what back and forth between New York and here just so she can see you” The Suit said.

“But if you accept my offer i’ll give something in return a chance for you two to have the life you always wanted the one she gave up hers for”The suit said. 

Court looked confused at this statement because he knew the man obviously meant something more than what was entended. 

“You don’t know do you” the suit asked surprised clear in his voice

“I guess it makes sense she would keep it from you, but she got into UCLA her dream school when you first got arrested but she turned it down to be with you she choose you over her dreams and she’s smart so she had a chance” The man said in a more human voice. It was soft spoken. 

Court’s heart sunk into a million pieces. He knew how hard you worked for that. He knew what it meant to you. It was all you ever wanted and he felt responsible for taking that away from you. 

The man was right you were smart you had everything going for you. You were meant to be someone and he took that away from you. 

“What’s your offer” Court asked trying to hide the sadness in his voice. 

“Were move the two of you out to prague that’s where the training is. She can work out there do whatever she wants. Were pay a very  nice salary for the two of you she will being living wild above now and she can finally pursue her dreams to do what ever” The man said. 

Court had a feeling it was to good to be true. But if there was a chance even a small one that he was telling the truth he needed to take it you deserved it. 

“You said I’ll see her” Court asked. 

“Yes of course we will allow days for you to go see her and once the training is over well your not under arrest” The suit said. 

“And what i just work for you forever” Court asked uneasy but also more leaning to the idea. 

A life with you was something he always wanted. He always dreamed about but he knew it was impossible. 

“Listen it’s this or jail so i feel like the answer is clear well in my book it is you take the bad guys down and you live your life with your girl” He said. 

“I wanna talk to her” Court said. 

“Fine we can arrange that a visit no rules just the two of you how does that sound” The man asked. 

“Set it up” Court said. 

The man gathered his stuff and got up and left. 

“Fitzroy by the way” The man said as he got up and walked out. 

Court didn’t even give another thought he couldn’t for the sake of his mental health. He got up after that and reuturned to his cell. 

The what if kept creeping back in head as much as he didn’t want it to. 

A few weeks has passed sense then, 

You had no idea that any of that happened. No way Court would tell you something like that. He needed to handle it first. 

Right now you were sitting in your apartment. It was afternoon and you were working from home. You didn’t feel like the travels of New York today. It was nice and quiet in your place until someone started banging at the door. 

Who the hell was it and why were they banging down the door. Then your anxiety started creeping because you were worried something bad happened. 

You opened it up to see a man in a very nice suit sitting there. 

“Fitzroy, wow you are more beautiful in person” He said. 

“Um who the hell are you” You asked. 

“I work with the CIA now come with me” He said 

“No why would i do that” You asked snapping back. 

He pulled out his ID and flashed his identity to you. 

“Listen it’s about Courtland so let’s go” The man said 

You felt your heart stopped and your knees got weak, What happened you thought. 

“He’s fine he’s okay nothing like that” He said

“Get your stuff come on” he said. 

You did as you were told, and got your things and quickly followed behind. You walked out to a black SVU that was waiting. 

You got in and you all took off. The car ride was silent and the man looked straight ahead. He seemed like he was all business. 

You on the other hand was a nervous wreck. You were also afraid of the fact this was a kidnapping. 

But the journalist in you needed answers. 

“So you gonna tell me what this is about” You asked. 

The man just sat straight ahead and didn’t even look at you. 

“Not my place” was all he said. 

The car ride was familiar and you instantly knew where you were going. Your nerves and curiosity were taking over. 

Finally you reached the prison and you wanted to bolt out of there. You got out and followed behind the man. 

You all passed the line for check in and search. Which raised your red flags. 

“What’s going on” You asked 

The man didn’t answer you. He just kept walking and you followed him.

You ended up walking down a long hallway. Then finally you walked up to a room you never seen before. You never even been down this way ever. It was haunting. 

The man opened up the door and you walked in. To your relief Court was sitting their uncuffed and fine. 

“I’ll leave you two alone” Fitzroy said. 

He got up and walked out. Leaving you two alone 

Court got up and you ran over into his arms. God it felt so good. Having his big arms wrapped around you. 

You instantly started crying this feeling was so missed.  He hugged you so tight and you hugged him even harder. 

You started crying and you felt a tear fall down his face and hit your neck. You never thought this would happen again. Was it a dream ? were you going to wake up ? 

After a few minutes you both finally let go. 

Court looked at you and placed his hand and brushed his thumb against your cheek. He sat his forehead against yours. 

“I love you” was all he said. 

“ I love you too” You said. 

You both broke up. Court gestured for you to sit down which you did. 

He pressed his hand grabbed yours and he pressed his knees against yours. Touching you as much as he could. 

“Why didn’t you tell me” He started. 

You looked at him completely baffled. Confused on what he was talking about

“School , LA I know please don’t lie to me why would you do that. You had a life you could have done something” Court said 

You tensed up a little you never wanted him to know, he sounded hurt and disappointed 

“I made my choice, it was mine alone no one else’s I stand by it” You said 

“I never wanted to hold you back” Court said. 

“You never did never not one bit I live my life with no regrets. Not one I love you I always loved you, everything was worth it. You were worth it” You said squeezing his hand. 

Court looked up at you with a soft look on his face. He seemed a little taken back. 

“What’s going on he said it wasn’t his place” You asked. 

Court looked like he was searching for his answer. 

“I can get out” Court was saying before you cut him off

“What are you serious, how when” You asked in one breathe

“The CIA being apart of a group training and it’s in prague. You can come with me there pay me us nicely” Court said but something in his voice seemed like it was uneasy 

“What do you wanna do what training” you asked 

“CIA not much is known taking bad guys down but they said you could come we could be together” Court said. 

“Is this what you want” You asked. 

“I want you, I want out we could be together” Court said. 

“I want that all of that but not if your not sure about this program” You said honestly. 

“I’m taking it the offer if it means spending my life with you it’s worth it” Court said. 

“I love you I know your going to do the right thing for you” You said to him. 

Court took his hand and cupped your face with it. He then scooted in closer to you. He looked deep into your eyes before pulling you close to him. 

He leaned in and you leaned in and finally after all these years he finally kissed you. 

It was everything you ever dreamed of. Minus the prison of course, but everyting was magical. The butterflies were strong. 

It was like your lips melted against his and you didn’t want to let go. 

Finally needing air you both broke apart. Court finally gave you smile. 

Then the moment of course was interrupted and you two scooted a little away from each other. 

“Well what’s the answer not that I don’t already know” Fitzroy said. 

“I’m In” Court said.

“Welcome to the Sierra Program your new life starts now”

[crow97street]

─── ⋆⋅weeping under the willows⋅⋆ ───

synopsis ✦‧₊˚ chan has a bad day and then an even worse day when his mom has another drunk episode

warning/tags ✦‧₊˚ alcohol abuse, drinking, drunk people?, obsessive thoughts, arguing, crying, near panic attacks, mentions of past smoking, hurt/comfort, channie loves bin <3 AGAIN!!, channie and binnie are the cutest besties, highschool AU

notes ✦‧₊˚ hello folks🤗just another projection fic except it’s my daily life😍also yall chan’s mom is the sweetest ever like do not apply this to them at all i’m basically just using chans name

word count ✦‧₊˚ 2,489

song rec for this ;)

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

“See ya hyung!” Jisungs cheerful voice echoes across the open field as Chan leaves school.

“See you Jisung-ah.” Chan hollers back as he slings his backpack onto his other shoulder. School was exhausting, as always. But today was somehow even more terrible than usual.

First, Chan was late to first period and luckily Mrs. Kim let him off with a slap on the wrist. He’s already been late and absent for way too many classes this year so God took his side today it seems.

Secondly, during lunch Chan spent his last few dollars on pineapple juice only to bump into some asshole quarterback, spilling it all over the cafeteria floor. The quarterback then proceeds to laugh at Chan, knock him in the shoulder, and run off. Chan wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, scream, or all of the above. Unfortunately Chan was forced to choose a fourth unlisted option: stay silent, clean up his emptied drink bottle and spill, then walk to his friends table like nothing happened. He’s forced to pick the unlisted fourth option a lot more than he admittedly wants to.

Finally, to top the day off with a big dollop of whip cream and sprinkles! Chan was skateboarding home, like he always fucking does every single goddamn day without issue, and he fucking crashed. Into someone’s dog. Truly today must have been some sort of fucking trial God decided to face him with. He’s just about to fail said trial if he doesn’t catch a break today, of course the dog had to be one of those small fragile little pussy dogs that scream bloody murder if you lightly graze their paw.

So that made for quite the scene when he ran his fucking skateboard into it. But he managed to escape by apologizing twelve hundred times to the dogs owner and offering to pay any vet bills that he definitely cannot afford. Thankfully the owner forgave him and he hightailed it out of there like something was chasing him, perhaps the clouding doom of debt and guilt was what made his foot push off the ground just a tad bit harder. Nonetheless Chan is home, and he is safe from the claustrophobic creatures that are other humans. Sometimes Chan wishes he were an animal, maybe a hawk? He could fly anywhere he wanted and doesn’t have to talk to anyone. Or maybe a wolf? More social with their packs and whatnot. Chan giggles to himself at the ridiuclous imagery of his friend group as a wolf pack. They unofficially-officially labeled their group the stray kids. Based off all of their similar backgrounds of dirty suburban neighborhoods and dysfunctional parents that fall into either the drunk line, or the drug line. Or maybe they throw in a plot twist and they fall into the narcissistic victim blaming parent. Anywho Chan is just happy to be fucking home.

He lets out a big sigh and allows his backpack to slide off his frame landing on the carpet with a loud ‘thunk’.

“Well fuck.” Chan just stands in the middle of his room trying to reel in his racing and screaming mind. After recollecting his humanity, he immediately begins stripping all his clothing off leaving himself in just his boxers and socks before flopping onto his bed bouncing a bit as he lands. He cannot wait to pass out, wake up at some ungodly hour of the night in a cold sweat from another very uncalled for nightmare, and stay up until he leaves for school to do it all again. Shit. His life sucks.

Chan moves his eyes from the chipped paint on his wall to his alarm clock, it reads 4:35. Huh. Enough time to visit his favorite place. Now, Chan’s favorite place is a bit.. strange, to be a favorite place. But people just don’t understand the tranquility of it all. Chan let’s out a humorous breath. Maybe the photography students would.

He counts down 10 seconds in his head before standing up in one fluid motion at 1, stumbling a little as his vision goes black from going too fast. He makes a face at the sweatpants lying on his floor before deciding fuck it and throwing them on along with a sleeveless loose top. He shakes his head and grabs his phone skipping down the stairs. As he rounds the corner silently he spots his mom pouring wine into her glass. Ah of course, well, good thing he’ll be gone most of the night and he’ll come home to her asleep in her bed and he can escape whatever shit she wants to spew to him that night.

Chan races out the front door after grabbing an apple tossing it in his hand. He shuts the door silently and slides his arm underneath the bar below his skateboard throwing it into the ground and hopping on. At least at the end of the day he’s got his skateboard. He glances down at the board fondly before pushing off again. Hyunjin painted the bottom of the board for him for his birthday many years ago and the paints only chipped and faded the smallest amount. He likes to tell everyone it’s Hyunjin’s magical being that kept the paint so pristine. He asked him to paint a weeping willow tree with blood on the ends of the leaves. Hyunjin gave him a questioning glance at the time of the request but painted it nontheless. Chan had been in love with it ever since and doesn’t go anywhere without his baby.

Chan smiles lightly as he reaches his spot and hops off the board ascending the overgrown hill. He reaches the tree and sighs. It’s a large weeping willow with its leaves touching the ground. Someone planted it years ago and anyone who comes across it has just labeled it as some sacred thing, which, yeah that makes Chan happy this tree is special. Chan continues his journey forward and swoops under the leaves and into the little cove the leaves provide. There’s an old ratty blanket and a basket of just random various items and Chan makes his way over. He put this blanket down when he was 7 years old and here it is still standing after 10 years. Even when it rained the blanket never took much damage due to the leaves acting as a shield.

Chan drops his body onto the dirty blanket letting out a loud groan. He gazes up into the heart of the tree admiring its beauty for awhile. He would never get sick of this place, when he had nobody he always had his weeping willow. Chan reached up and his hand came away wet. Oh. He’s crying. Chan never really cried, even as a child he’d just laugh off everything or put on a brave face, his body just never felt the need to expel tears. Seems today hit him harder than he thought, seeing as his vision is blurring and his chest is getting tighter. Fucking hell can he get his act together? This is stupid. Chan grunts and wipes his face with a frustrated groan - his groan was shaky and unstable but he won’t ever admit that.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Chan laughs at himself and sits up scrubbing his face and looking over into his bin of supplies. There’s a multitude of things in there ranging from an old american spirit box of cigarettes Chan smoked when he was younger - he pretty much quit, his life sucked enough there was no need to make it worse by giving himself some form of cancer - to an old wiltered flower that a small bunny delivered to him one day. He was 13 years old and his mom had one of her first drunk episodes, he didn’t know how to feel or how to handle the feelings he received from the way his mother acted that night. He felt like he was looking into the eyes of someone else, someone who wasn’t his mother. He even had bruised knees from falling onto the ground as he ran to this tree. A small white bunny appeared that evening and in it’s mouth was a tiny pink tulip, Chan smiled and accepted the flower as the bunny scampered off. Chan will never forget the tiny bunny that helped him that day.

Chan shakes his head once more to clear his thoughts, damn he was really just reliving everything tonight wasn’t he. At this point he’s posing the question is the tree weeping or is he? Chan shakes his head at his absolute corny inner monologue. He lets his mind go numb for awhile.

A leaf lands on his face and he blinks a few times before lifting his wrist. 9:57 his watch blinks at him. Oh. Oh. Chan’s eyes widen comically before he jumps onto his feet. He stumbles and races down the hill after grabbing his skateboard and taking off.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

The glow of his window shines brightly in the dim nightlife of the neighborhood. Chan glances at the front door. It’s definitely locked, his mom always locks it when she heads to bed. She never checks in on Chan anymore. He sighs and begins climbing the tree next to his window. He lands onto the short overhang roof and climbs into his window.

Chan strips down again and falls onto his bed. He feels sleep tug at his eyes until a loud crash outside his door jerks him back awake. Chan feels a cold sharpness grow and grow inside of his chest at the noise. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. His mom was supposed to be asleep. Chan feels himself begin to tremble. He stands apprehensively and walks in slow motion to his bedroom door. It feels like the entire world has stopped and surrounded Chan to watch as his trembling fingers reach out for the knob. He decides to rip the bandaid off and flings the door open in one swift motion.

He’s greeted by his mom picking up books she scattered onto the floor. She smiles at him.

“Hey sweetie.” She speaks softly. Chan knows better.

“Hey mom, what did you do?” Chan hesitantly replies. Why is this affecting him so much? He’s done this so many times why is he even trembling? Chan internally groans at his betraying body.

His mom just laughs a bit and continues to pick up the books before standing. Inching closer to Chan.

“Where were you honey?” Chan could smell the familiar scent of alcohol across the room. He felt nauseous.

“Uh, just took my skateboard out.” Chan learned the trick was to be as vague as possible in situations like this. Don’t give her too many details to use against him later.

“Why aren’t you ever home anymore?” Her mood immediately darkens at the question.

“Just been um, busy, you know. With homework and hanging out with my friends.” Chan feels the crack of his dry throat as he swallows.

Chan feels his heart begin to beat faster under her gaze. He can’t pinpoint her emotion and it’s freaking him out a little.

“Oh. I see.” She sighs out. “It’s all my fault then.” Chan’s jaw opens at the sudden switch of her tone. Accusatory to, victimized? Chan feels fury ignite like a flame in his chest. He pushes it down with a shaky exhale.

“No, not your fault, just busy.” He gives her a lame excuse knowing she won’t listen to him anyway.

“So I don’t mean anything to you? You're too busy for me now, is that it?” She raises her voice slightly but it sounds like screaming to Chan’s ears. He feels dizzy.

“No, mom, I just told you school has been hard.” School has been totally fine. He doesn’t care though, he’ll do anything to escape this.

“Christopher, I am your mother.” She fixes him with a stern gaze and Chan feels himself crumble right back into his eight year old self.

“O-Okay mom I’m sorry, I’ll make more time for you.” Chan rushes it out of his mouth in one large exhale bringing his arms up to wrap around himself. A pathetic self soothing tactic he began doing.

Her expression instantly changes and she nods with a smile.

“Goodnight Chris.” She turns and heads into her bedroom as if nothing happened at all. Chan stands there for a few seconds before racing into his room, closing the door. He trips and falls onto his carpet floor with blurry vision. His chest grows tighter and tighter until he grips onto his shirt with white knuckles gasping for air.

His vision sways and black dots line his peripheral but he blindly reaches for his phone on his bed. His fingers find the object and he immediately taps the contact bringing the phone to his ear.

Ringing.

…

Ringing.

…

Ring-

“Hyung?” Changbin’s soothing voice echoes out the speaker of his phone. Chan’s entire body slacks.

“C-Changbin can you, um, can you c-come over?” Chan internally curses himself for stuttering and trembling like an idiot. But ultimately he’s too exhausted to care.

“Yeah of course, Channie-hyung what happened?” Changbin’s voice carries ounces of worry in it and Chan can hear the jingle of keys.

“Just please come.” Chan ends the call and drops his phone, wrapping his arms around himself again. He curls into the smallest ball he can and tries to fight the panic growing.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

He doesn’t know how long he sits there breathing in and out until he hears his window slide up. He snaps his head to the source of the noise and sees Changbin climbing in carefully. Changbin’s eyes find Chan’s sorrowful ones and his whole body deflates with sadness.

“Come here hyung.” Changbin opens his arms and sits on the rough carpet. Chan scrambles and falls as he rushes into Changbin’s arms. He shoves his head into the crook of Changbin’s neck and wraps his arms around his torso with a vice grip.

“Shh it’s okay, I’m here.” Changbin keeps his voice low and soft and Chan is insanely grateful for the small gesture. He snuggles in closer and allows his tears to soak into Changbin’s soft polyester t-shirt.

“Your mom again?” Changbin sighs out reaching a hand up to brush through Chan’s unruly curls.

“Mm-h-hm.” Chan releases a terrible shaky hum and nods his head slowly against Changbin.

“Oh, channie.” He squeezes Chan tighter and rests his cheek atop his bed of curls. The nickname always eases Chan a bit, it helps him let go and receive comfort more than an honorific would. Chan sniffles and feels his eyes grow heavy.

“Sleep channie, it’s alright I’ll be here.” Chan allows his eyes to close at Changbin’s words. His pulse slows and his breathing comes easier.

He drifts off to thoughts of how much he loves his best friend and the buzz of his old fan.

[backjustforberena]

Any headcanons on vaemond and Rhaenys’ relationship? Vaemond seems pretty anti Targaryen to I can’t imagine he was all that happy at first.

An excellent question! It's interesting. I don't think I have specific headcanons per se but more... vibes I pick up. From the scenes we get and then little nuggets in interviews.

It's tricky. They only have one scene together, in private, and it's in extremis, and it's also after 30+ years of knowing each other.

But things I pick up on are use of names: they both speak to one another without title, and they both refer to one another by relation as well (good brother, good sister). Vaemond feels safe enough to confront this issue with her, which is also something. Admittedly, however, as much as this suggests familiarity, for both of them it also suggests the context of the scene - Vaemond seeing Rhaenys's power waning, and Rhaenys wanting to keep it a private matter. As well as other stuff. It's layered. It doesn't necessarily mean they're buddies in the fluffiest sense of the word.

I definitely think that Vaemond wasn't particularly happy with the marriage. I don't know if he liked Rhaenys as a person, but I do think he actually respected her and respected what she did for House Velaryon (to a point) and respect that his brother did love her and that she loved him.

But I think, from the get-go, he thinks it's dumb. Just looking at the interests of House Velaryon: sure, marry a Princess, that's great. But THIS one? Rhaenys? The Heir's only child? That yokes House Velaryon to the Crown's interests and, even, to be overtaken by the Crown as any of Corlys's heirs will be hers. It's just playing with fire. I think Vaemond probably questioned Corlys's motivations. And then, of course, Rhaenys gets put aside and Vaemond's like: brilliant, what was the point of all that then? And then Corlys keeps up with his ambitions and probably spent a whole lot of dosh on Harrenhal and it's just a whole thing and the root cause, alas, is Rhaenys.

I do think Vaemond loved Laena and Laenor though. He was devoted to his family and to his house. I think he loved those kids. And so it's easy to blame "bad influences" for leading them astray. Such as Daemon or the Targaryens as a set. It's very easily done.

I don't think Rhaenys thinks the world of him but I do think she respects his loyalty to his family, whatever support he has been to Corlys over the years and, by extension, her kids as well. She does care for his wellbeing and feels a sense of responsibility towards him as her husband's brother. She warns him, multiple times, and gives him an "out" during Episode 08, and does seem genuinely moved when he dies - she stands vigil over his body and stays in King's Landing to escort it home. There isn't a lack of care there or a hatred.

Saying that, Laenor totally got his influence to call Vaemond "Master of Complaints" from his mother.

We can assume that Rhaenys has been in charge often enough when Corlys has been away. Now, if she weren't Rhaenys then, in all likelihood, the running of Driftmark might have passed to Vaemond, especially where the Fleet is concerned, given that he's Corlys's closest male kin. But Vaemond seems very secondary to her and I don't think he ever tried to take that away from her. I don't think there was necessarily conflict because of that. Teething problems? Sure! But I think they both give each other grace and have their roles.

Whilst Vaemond is necessary to the opening of Episode 08 (obviously), I personally also choose the read it as indicative of their relationship as well. Vaemond isn't shunted to one side, there is some sense of inclusion and proximity. I've always imagined that scene comes directly from hearing petitioners or at least something like that, to account for the formality of the setting - Rhaenys on the throne, Baela at her side, Kelvyn in centre.

And, thinking on it, though I will wrap up soon, I wonder about Vaemond during those six years. I'm going to go out on a limb that he probably had more of a clue on Corlys's headspace than Rhaenys did - especially in regard to his motivations. I can even imagine him going to the Stepstones, initially. But there becomes a point where he can turn back where Corlys wants to press on and Vaemond is granted leave. Vaemond could know Corlys was going to keep going until he died or something similar (I'm thinking of the conviction Vaemond has towards Corlys's death). I like to think Vaemond has been back for a signific period of time by Episode 08. Maybe years?

And Corlys totally wrote to Vaemond wanting sly reports on how his wife is. Vaemond rolls his eyes but complies.

[blue-razzslushie]

Introducing My Hogwarts Legacy MC: Rory Ebony!

GENERAL INFORMATION:

Name: Rory Michael Evan Ebony

Age: 15

Voice Claim: Jessica Vosk (Lute from HH)

Personality Type: INTJ-T

House: Ravenclaw

Patronus: Raven (Ironic much)

Boggart: Themself, corrupted by dark ancient magic like Ranrok was. It was what they could have been, or yet to be.

Hair color: Black

Eye color (s): Yellow and Dark Blue

Skin tone: Caramel

Nationality: Pardo [Brazilian + British.]

Height: 5'4

Clothing Style: Typically casual and easy to move around clothes works for them best. When the Option arises, they always choose to take off their school robe. They prefer to dress more masculine, would rather Avada Kadabra Themself then wear a skirt or dress. Hands get cold easily so they always keep on fingerless black gloves. Also enjoys keeping Solar Specticals on at all times, due to their light sensitivity!

PERSONALITY, LIKES AND DISLIKES

Personality: Rory is a very straight forward serious person, especially for their age. Preferring to outsmart their opponents then go in headfirst. They mostly spend their time in the Room of Requirment studying for classes, making plans to stop Rookwood and Ranrok's lot, and occasionally reading up on astronomy. Besides for a handful of teachers and students, They would very much prefer to not talk to anyone and be alone. Once people do get close to them, they can be more open and friendly.

Traits: Sarcastic, Smart, Cold, Brave, Witty, Snarky, Sassy, Calculative, Funny, Stubborn, Very VERY stubborn

Likes: Silence, Alone time, Cats, Raccoons, Dueling, Lemon tea, Astronomy

Dislikes: Children, Crowds, Loud noises, The Smell of Peanut butter, Squirrels, getting called any words that insult their intelligence or work ethic, for example. . .Ignorant (SEBASTIAN cough cough)

Habits: Fiddling with wand absentmindedly, Being too blunt with people, Overworking, Cutting Sleep, Skipping Meals, Pushing people away

Hobbies: Drawing, Writing, Playing Violin, Studying Astronomy, Talking Shit abt people to their Kneazle

Fears: Being Forgotten, Letting people down.

Favorite Class: Potions/DADA

Favorite spells: Diffindo, Depulso, Incendio, Glacius, Disillusionment, Alohomora

Favorite Professors: Prof. Sharp, Prof. Fig, Prof.Hecat, Prof.Weasley

Favorite Beast: Kneazle/Hippogriff

BACKGROUND/ LORE

Rory doesn't really remember the early years of their life. They were born as what would modernly be known as Intersex, Not exactly known what gender they were at all. And just as you would expect, society including their parents were not fond of this. It was as if they we're a freak. Not too long after being born Rory's parents seperated, and didn't seem either was keen to keep the child they had created. With a stroke of pure genius abandoning them at a small Orphanage called SmileSide Orphanage; and never looking back.

SmileSide Orphanage mind you, was anything but a place to smile. It was rather poor to say the least and the caretakers for the children were. . .less then kind. The place constantly smelled of old socks and despair, every child there constantly scared stiff by the women who ran the place. It seemed like everything anyone did was wrong. Breath too loud? Locked in the cellar with no meals for 2 Moons. Speak out of turn? Wash out your mouth with soap! And the punishments only got more severe from there. Just like the other kids, Rory hated it there.

However, Unlike most children, they never really were too interested in getting adopted or finding friends at the place. Instead, They spent most of their time nose in a book, they liked non-ficton and learning everything they could. But, Fiction always holds a special place in their heart. More specifically, Mystery series. Rory always loved solving puzzles and mysteries, Figuring out the culprit of the crime along with the main character in their favourite book was always something they enjoyed. As well as reading, they did more creative things as well, Drawing, Writing, tinkering. . .all while Learning as much as they could from the local library and other educational things the small town had to offer.

This went on for 14 more years, along the way Rory eventually growing tired of the same routine. They wanted adventure, something new to discover, maybe a new book to read? They had read almost every one in the library twice for Peats Sake! Eventually, on their 15th birthday receiving a letter at their bedside. It was a rather ominis letter, being addressed to:

Rory Micheal Evan Ebony

432 Creek Road, SmileSide Orphanage

Bed #12, 2nd Floor

Oh. . .okay! This was a bit unsettling. Reading the message, they learned the letter came from "Headmistress Matilda Weasley".or whoever she was. The letter informed them they shall be admitted to a school called "Hogwarts". Apparently they were long overdue to go, 4 entire years late? However, a man named Eleazar Fig, or Professor Fig, was going to be coming to mentor them? They were baffled, yet excited. This was unexpected, uncharted Mystery Letter. And you know them. . .They loved solving a good Mystery. Surprisingly (and conviently) enough not even 5 minutes later a older man showed up at the front door wearing rather Flamboyant clothing. He looked at the child before him as if he already knew them, extending a hand and introducing himself as Eleazar Fig. . .hey it's the man from the letter! Now this? This was the sort of new adventure they've been craving. . . If only they new what the future would hold.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH STAFF/STUDENTS

Professor Fig: Father Figure #1! person Rory was able to trust, and I mean fully trust. They bonded well over the few months before Rory attended Hogwarts, Getting taught about the Wizarding World and its inhabitants. Their bond only strengthened once the whole Ancient Magic ability came about. They were a lot alike, Clever, Sassy, and unbelievably courageous. Fig was their emotional backbone throughout the journey, giving words of encouragement and praise all the way. Professor Fig always cared for Rory as if his own child since the day they began being mentored by him, They acted a lot like Miriam in his opinion, and that's what only made him love them more. He understood them, and even when he didn't he tried to be there either way. As much as they would have rather died then admit it, Professor Fig was basically what They always wanted in their father. A kind man who would support them and be able to trust. If only he could still be here. . .Oh Professor, they're so sorry.

Professor Sharp: Father Figure #2! Rory always liked Potions, and Professor Sharp's class in general. They always found it odd how people hated his class, Perhaps those students were just to weak when it came to "Intimidating" people telling them what to do. The two didn't start to truly bond until after Professor Fig's death, Sure they knew each other and were friendly. . . But that's all it was. It wasn't until Rory was in the Potions classroom every other hour trying to hide from People asking questions about the battle under Hogwarts and Professor Weasley's kind but overwhelming mother henning, the potions professor and the Ravenclaw really started to actually know each other. The two were a lot alike in personality and mannerisms, hell even similar mental issues. To Professor Sharp. . . They were too alike for his own comfort. Professor Sharp always was fond of Rory, as much as it could be hard to see. He admired their hard working, no nonsense ethic that very few others their age manages to possess. Albeit he had chided them one too many times about almost falling asleep in their brews every so often. He almost saw himself in the kid, and to say the least he didn't like that

Self destructive tendencies that he knew WAY too well. After Professor Fig passed he stepped up to be their "mentor" in a sense. Mentoring them to keep helping them understand 4 extra years of Hogwarts magic they missed, as well as maybe get them off the destructive path they were going down.

Professor Weasley: Mother Figure!! Rory always highly respected and admired Professor Weasley. She was unbelievably kind to them at the first moment they met. And continued to be during the school year and even after that. Professor Weasley was just as fond or Rory as they were to her, if not more. Such a hardworking student who seemed to be prepared every step of the way. Sure she was a bit cross they had lied to her for the better part of the year about their ancient magic ability and. . . Extra Curricular activities that could have easily ended their life. But she was mainly just glad they were alright. . . She doesn't have favorites what do you mean?

Sebastian: Buddies. Ever since first day DADA, Rory and Sebastian grew to be close friends. Investigating the triptych and that damned Relic, the two had their own hate/love dynamic. There was only so much tomfoolery and idiotic statements Rory can take before having to "take a break" from Sebastians presence. . . Who doesn't need a break from that.

Natty: Platonic Soulmates, From the First day in class, to the troll attack in Hogsemead, and the many more adventures the two had go on. Natty and Rory were joined at the hip, Close as can be. Natsai was one of the only people Rory could be around and genuinely smile, Making sly jokes and Sarcastic comments back and forth at one another. One of the most powerful duo's in Hogwarts I'd reckon.

Poppy: Close friends. Poppy is more of the opposite of Rory, The sun to their moon if you would. Saving beasts from poachers, Successfully returning a dragon egg to it's mother, and befriending the Centaurus, the two grew close over the school year.

Ominis: Friendly aquaintances, besides trying to stop Sebastian from doing anything too idiotic for the most part Ominis and Rory don't talk much. The two mostly conversate in Professor Binns class, since they are sat right beside one another.

Amit: Best Friends! Amit and Rory are two buddy's who love the stars and it's wonders, when the chance arises the two can be found in the library or in the astronomy tower info-dumping about their own discoveries of the cosmos.

Garreth: Friends! Since the two are both adept in potion making, they mostly bond in potions class. Sometimes getting partnered up together for specific lessons. Thankfully for Professor Sharp, Rory manages to keep Garreth from doing anything explosive when paired together. Sure they do threaten him with a hex that would have him puking up slugs for a few days. . . But then again he has it coming.

Imelda: Rivals to Lovers. Ever since the first Flying race the two had against one another in the beginning of the year, a electrical Rivalry started. One thing Rory never did, was back down. Even so they were always impressed by Imeldas firey spirit when it came to flying, being so passionate was somehow attractive? Rory and Imelda met up every week or so to fly, Even if it wasn't on a race track they would fly along together, spitting firey yet affectionate insults at one another. On the other hand, Rory's competitive spirit and down right determination, not to mention how they could easily clap back and stand up for themself. . .it was one of the reason Imelda liked them so much, to her dismay. No no no! They were NOT apart of her future plans! She doesn't have time for them. . . Does she? No she isn't blushing. . . She has a fever! It's hot out!. . . Ughh

CREATOR/ AUTHORS NOTE! ! !

Hey all! You can call Me Razz, and this is my goofy little Hogwarts Legacy Oc! HL has been rolling around in my brain for a HOT ASS MINUTE and I've seen so many lovely people on here sharing their MC's so it's my turn lol! If you like Rory and want to see more LEMME KNOW I LOVE DRAWING THEM!!