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youraverageaemondsimp · 7 months ago

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Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

#; metanoia !#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #reader insert #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond kinslayer #aemond one eye

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burr-ell · 6 days ago

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re: bh never having faced consequences, what are some moments/things they've done you think there should've been consequences for? i'm asking because i've realized these past couple episodes that i also fear they won't face any consequences for this, but i haven't been able to pinpoint why i feel that way yet

I don't think the answer is that they've done things that demand consequences so much as it is that a lot of elements of this campaign just don't coalesce or feel like they matter. Things feel important and relevant and cool in the moment and then don't get any kind of followup, nor do they have a meaningful impact on the characters. So much of this story falls to the wayside with no followup, if it doesn't have the wind taken out of it altogether.

A lot of plot points wind up mattering more to the fandom than they do to the characters—even good arcs, like the events of the party split arc, don't seem to have left much of an impact. There are fans who still bring up Hearthdell as a point against the gods or Vasselheim, but Bell's Hells have barely mentioned it if at all since episode 65. Laudna derides it as a "pissant town" with "pissant squabbles" and is far less interested in the village and its people than she is in her own trauma and feelings about the Titans. Ashton only brings up what happened there because they're still sore about being judged by an angel. There's still a chance that they call out Vasselheim's leadership for the whole mess, but at no point during Ashton's rant to the Exandrian Accord did they ever reference the blatant encroachment and attempt at a land grab. Molaesmyr fares little better; Chetney is the only character who ever brings it up, and when he does it's in the context of rattling Ludinus personally—a point that only he ever presses, even though Imogen and Fearne were also there. The fandom has been debating off and on about how much the nature of Predathos itself can be linked to Molaesmyr's destruction, but nothing has canonically explained it one way or the other, in part because the rest of the Hells just aren't interested.

It's also that lack of interest that leads to major NPC villains that are almost completely irrelevant to the story. It does not ultimately matter that one of Ludinus's generals is Otohan Thull or that the Malleus Key was defended by Ozo Cruth. The audience doesn't really know who they are, and they don't know because the party had no reason to care and didn't try to get one. Matt has indicated that there's a story to Otohan that will likely be revealed in a campaign wrap-up, and the same is probably true for Ozo, but in the actual story, all they are to the audience is a couple of overtuned stat blocks with swords, and the characters they killed might as well have been gutted by a pit fiend for all it mattered. About the only death that has any narrative resonance is FCG's, and it feels less like they sacrificed themself to kill Otohan and more like the story had to lose an interesting and engaging character to get rid of Otohan.

Even returning antagonists don't escape; both Ludinus Da'leth and Delilah Briarwood, important villains from their original campaigns, have been done a great deal of disservice in this one. Ludinus peaked in episode 51; his gambit with Vax and Keyleth was great, but the longer he got to keep monologuing, in a campaign already full of talking in circles about the same issue, the more insufferable he became. Even his death, karmic as it was, is cheapened by the almost-immediate implication that he's got a way to come back, which might make sense mechanically but is utterly exhausting narratively. Delilah, on the other hand, could have been replaced by an original character and nothing of value would have been lost; there's potential in an undead warlock whose patron is their own murderer, but any of the emotional juice of that story is outweighed both by how tiresome the pacing is and how overreliant it is on maudlin imagery and nostalgia for the original Briarwood arc. We don't learn about why Delilah is here or what her specific goals are until episode 77, 40 episodes after the party confronted her directly and gave her an opportunity to explain herself that she did not take. The corruption arc, again, had potential, but fizzled out as soon as a level 20 wizard dropped the soul anchor solution into their laps, with little actual impact on Laudna herself.

The actual player characters have, for the most part, barely substantively changed. Chetney has solved the mechanical problem of not being able to control his werewolf transformations and he does push big red buttons when no one else will, but he isn't really moving anywhere as a character. Laudna continues to do everything in her power to bounce back to the old kooky fun-scary bit from episode 1 every time anything interesting happens to her. FCG did actually have a great arc with an incredibly heartfelt and moving conclusion, but is no longer a meaningful part of the narrative and the party's grief over their death was not given the space to breathe that it warranted. Fearne has matured a bit over the course of the campaign but is still largely just as aimless and go-with-the-flow as she was in the beginning. Imogen, at the very least, started to take something close to an actual stance on the gods and what to do about Predathos, but every time she has to make a choice, she continues to ask someone else what she should do and then hem and haw when she's told it's her decision. Orym has finally let himself lean on someone else, but has otherwise remained static. Ashton had a very promising arc after failing to absorb the shard, but has since regressed into doing the exact thing they called themself out for doing: looking for someone to blame and wanting to feel like they were robbed. Moments like Shardgate and Swordgate, which in any other campaign would have been major watersheds, have become functionally irrelevant for all the impact they've had on the actual characters.

The elephant in the room here, of course, is Imogen and Laudna's relationship, which has been a millstone around the campaign's neck from the beginning. Shippers have accused critics of being motivated by bigotry, but the arguments deconstructing it are ultimately rooted in this very same issue: nothing that happens to them truly seems to matter. This is intertwined with the issues with Delilah, because every time Imogen and Laudna actually run into any sort of conflict or difficulty, it has something to do with that plot thread: Delilah broke the gnarlrock; Delilah was reawakened when Laudna killed Bor'dor and Laudna was extremely upset and traumatized about it; and Delilah was the one Laudna was listening to when she tried to steal and absorb Otohan's sword. All of those conflicts fizzled out as soon as the immediate surface issue was resolved: Imogen dropped the gnarlrock issue entirely; Imogen kissed Laudna and insisted that she couldn't be a bad person for killing Bor'dor, and Laudna completely dropped the subject; and Imogen, as soon as Delilah was sealed in the soul anchor, immediately took Laudna back after less than a day of mild distance and they went off to have makeup sex. It feels less like their love is so strong it can overcome any conflict and more like they retreat to the same way their relationship was before as soon as they possibly can. Even starting a romance doesn't seem to materially change anything.

There's no interest in unpacking anything that could cause a problem, either. Laudna canonically has no issue with Imogen floating the idea of siding with the Vanguard, even though it was a Vanguard general who killed Laudna in the street to get to Imogen; in fact, she refuses to take a hard stance for or against Imogen joining Predathos because she doesn't want to "hold Imogen back from her destiny". Prior to Laudna attempting to take the sword, Imogen told her explicitly "if you need [Delilah], then that's my answer"—and then instead of addressing that, Imogen blames herself for Laudna giving into Delilah by wondering if she should have given into her own toxic influence so at least Laudna wouldn't be alone. At no point have they ever had a difficult conversation about any of their underlying issues, like the actual material harm Laudna has done to herself or others or the fact that both Imogen and Laudna have repeatedly tossed aside their actual needs in favor of maintaining their status quo of unending support and presence in each other's lives. They both just attribute responsibility to someone or something else and continue to swear that they'll always be there for one another—just like every other conversation they've ever had. There's no challenge and no movement, not from them or from anyone else; nothing has ever upset the idea that this story could be anything less than idyllic, no matter the increasing evidence to the contrary.

A common refrain for a very long time, and perhaps one still around in some circles, was a desire for Character A and Character B to "finally talk", and not without reason. In previous campaigns, A and B probably would have talked. This, however, is a campaign centering on profoundly incurious characters with a narrative that is disinterested in those characters becoming genuinely invested in its setting or each other beyond a bare surface level. Of course they won't face any consequences for releasing Predathos when they didn't need to, nor will they face consequences for not communicating their incredibly risky and contentious plan ahead of time. Why would they? It won't matter. Nothing in this story matters, and that's the entire problem.

#critical role #cr discourse #cr meta #long post #asks #honestly i think vox machina and the mighty nein have faced more consequences this campaign than bell's hells ever will

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kiwriteswords · 22 days ago

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If we're talking angst with Aaron Hotchner, I feel like a miscarriage would do good to break his heart (if you're comfortable writing such a heavy topic, of course!)

No words appear before me in the aftermath [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Well, this took an emotional toll! Sort of inspired by the scene in Grey's Anatomy with Meredith Grey! Also, peep the new 'taglist' banner! I really like how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: miscarriage, pregnancy, angst, blood, traumatic event, canon typical events, canon typical themes, canon typical language, BAU team member reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, concerned Derek, concerned, Spencer, concerned Rossi

Summary: "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. You were bigger than the whole sky. You were more than just a short time. I've got a lot to pine about. I've got a lot to live without. I'm never gonna meet, what could've been, would've been, what should've been you."

In the muted light, the BAU team maneuvered through the abandoned warehouse, their breaths visible in the chill air. Aaron Hotchner led with the precision of a seasoned commander, his eyes scanning for danger; his heart, however, remained anchored to you.

His partner in every sense.

Despite being married for some time now, the thrill of working alongside you never waned. The team admired your synergy, the seamless dance of mutual respect, and whispered strategies. You bettered each other and for that? The team was grateful.

As gunfire erupted, chaos threaded through the precision. Aaron commanded, "Cover! Now!"

His voice was the calm in the storm, but his gaze instinctively sought you out. You moved with practiced ease, though your face was pale.

The exchange of bullets echoed a grim symphony. Spencer and Derek flanked you, moving as one unit. But as the final shot silenced the night, halting the unsub, a different, sharper silence fell over you.

Clutching your side, you staggered slightly, the color drained from your face not just from exertion but from pain--a deep, gnawing pain that didn't come from any bullet. Your knees felt weak; a sour taste filled your mouth.

The physical manifestation of your emotional turmoil was evident in your trembling hands and the way your body seemed to sag under the weight of the news.

"Derek, check her!" Spencer's voice cracked through the tension, his youthful face lined with worry.

Derek approached, his brow furrowed. "You're bleeding... a lot. Were you hit?" His question hung heavy in the cold air.

You shook your head, moisture glossing your eyes, not from the icy wind but from a storm within. "No, I... it's not that."

Across the warehouse, Aaron knelt beside the subdued unsub, his duty momentarily anchoring him to the spot. But his eyes were locked on you, sensing the distress in Derek's tone. The local PD was moving in, ready to take over, allowing Aaron the space to be not just a unit chief but a concerned husband. His responsibilities as a leader momentarily set aside, he moved towards you, his focus narrowing to the palpable tension surrounding you.

As Aaron approached, he noticed the stark contrast of the blood against your clothing, and his heart skipped a beat. The scene around him: the flashing lights, the murmur of the police radios, all faded into a blur.

Only you and your pain remained sharply in focus.

Always keenly observant, Rossi stepped in, his voice gentle yet urgent. "What’s going on?" he asked, looking from you to Aaron, sensing the shift in the air.

The question was too much. The weight of the secret you harbored now bled out in more ways than one. "Stop," you whispered, the single word a dam against your breaking heart. Your eyes met Aaron’s, and in them, he read a thousand chapters of a story you hadn’t yet told him. Miscarriage. The word stood unspoken, a ghost between you. The pain of loss, the fear of the unknown, and the struggle to communicate it all, hung heavy in the air.

You turned away, a lone figure against the backdrop of flashing police lights, walking away from the puddles that mirrored your desolation. Aaron stood frozen, his instincts as a unit chief battling his instincts as a husband. The words to command, to comfort, eluded him.

Seeing Aaron's hesitation, Rossi placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Aaron, she needs you now more than the team does." His voice was low, filled with understanding and a somber recognition of the personal stakes involved.

Spencer, who had hung back, now stepped forward, his voice hesitant but firm. "She wasn't ready to tell us, Hotch. Maybe... m-maybe she wasn't ready to tell anyone yet?"

Derek, still close by, looked between you and Aaron, regret coloring his tone. "Hotch, I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was..." His voice trailed off, unsure of how much had been understood, how much had been shared.

"Neither did I." Aaron's voice broke, a rare crack in his armor. He hadn’t known about the baby, about the hope you had nurtured silently. Now, all he could see was the future unspooling, threads of joy unraveled into grief. His internal conflict, torn between his role as a leader and his desire to comfort you, was palpable.

The team huddled in a tableau of shared sorrow, the strong men of the BAU grappling with a pain they couldn’t shield you from. As you distanced yourself, the space between you and Aaron felt like miles. He wanted to chase after you, to erase the hurt, but his feet were rooted, his role uncertain, his heart heavy with the shared pain.

He finally found you in the women’s bathroom at the local precinct, the tiles and walls reflecting a cold he couldn’t shake Locking the door behind him, he stood inside.

You were at the sink, changed from your original clothes into one he recognized as back up from your go-bag.

Your hands mechanically scrubbing under the relentless stream of water, each motion a futile attempt to cleanse away the tragedy that had stained the day. Stained this chapter in your life.

Water pooled around the drain tinged with a heartbreak that soap couldn’t wash away.

Your focus was laser-sharp on the pink-tinted water, a cruel reminder of the life that was slipping away from you. Aaron paused at the door, the sight of you grappling alone with your pain tightening his chest.

“Let’s take a minute,” he said gently, his voice a soft contrast to the harsh fluorescent lighting. His words seemed to hover in the humid air, too heavy to immediately absorb.

You didn’t look up, your hands moving to your stained clothes, spot-cleaning the blood that had marked it. The fabric absorbed your focus, your fingers scrubbing rhythmically.

It was a task, something you could control when everything else seemed to unravel.

“I need to get more jeans for my go-bag,” You said as if it was just an item on your to-do list. As if there wasn’t a life-altering moment happening right before your very eyes.

Aaron moved closer, his reflection ghosting beside yours in the mirror, a shared image of both solidarity and separation. “You don’t have to do this right now,” he murmured, reaching a tentative hand toward your shoulder.

The contact startled you, a lifeline you hadn’t realized you were waiting for. Your eyes met his in the mirror--windows fogged with unshed tears.

“I need to clean this up,” you insisted, your voice as thin as the paper towels you now snatched up, blotting the damp clothes.

He watched the deliberate way you avoided your reflection, focusing only on the stains you could fight. “You’re not alone in this,” Aaron assured you, his tone threaded with the promise to hold together the pieces of a shared dream that had shattered silently.

The paper towels piled up. Crimson. “I was going to tell you…I wanted to tell you…,” you finally admitted, the words spilling out like the water you couldn’t stop. “A-After the case...”

The confession hung between you, a delicate truth that now lay bare in the most unforgiving of lights.

Aaron reached for your hands, stilling them. “Let’s just sit for a moment. Together,” he suggested, guiding you away from the sink, away from the relentless reminder of loss.

You allowed him to lead you to a small bench in the corner, the cold of the tile seeping through your clothes, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand covering yours. Side by side, you sat in a silence that spoke volumes, your breaths syncing in a slow, shared cadence.

Aaron looked at you, really looked.

Not as a unit chief or a husband seeking to fix things but as a partner sharing in the rawness of the moment.

“We don’t have to go back out there today,” he said softly, an anchor in the fluidity of grief.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder. The fight to stay composed ebbing away.

In the quiet of that sterile space, you found a haven, a shared solitude that didn’t push for answers or action, just presence. He’d always had this effect on you.

“We both wanted this so much." Your voice just above a whisper.

Aaron nodded, his cheek resting atop your head. "I know," he murmured. His heart ached with the weight of lost futures. "We wanted it," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, acknowledging not only the pain of the loss but the depth of the shared desire that had been growing between you.

In the reflection of the darkened mirror, the two of you sat, a poignant picture of what strength truly looked like, not in the avoidance of pain but in the willingness to face it.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

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lineli225 · 11 months ago

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Tomura Shigaraki 's abuse and neglect under All for One

I've decided to make this post due to the fact AFO's abuse towards Tomura is often ignored and even denied, so I'll be bringing a collection of scenes that prove he was being severally neglected during the 15 years he lived with AFO

1- Malnourishment and Underweight

At the beginning of the story Tomura used to be very skinny, his spine visible, very accentuated collar bones.

We can't see if his ribcages are exposed too since he's always dressed, but we can tell he is abnormally skinny and thin.

Some theorize AFO's purposefully keeps him in this state so he's more weak and frail similar to Yoichi. Or so it adds to his tiredness and numbness.

He's also been shown randomly struggling before (it could've been the aftershock of Stain attack, i don't know)

2- Lack of hygiene

He literally lives in pure filth, trash bags, old soda cans, paper, boxes, packages of food that seems ordered other than homemade, it lingers all over his floor, he is clearly a hoarder

It's completely different of the kept and clean bar, and now before you say "That's Tomura's responsibility, he's an adult he should clean it himself!" just think for a minute, if you had a son, that you see as your heir, and bets on their future so much,If you truly cared about them and saw they felt into a hoarder mindset, wouldn't you at least help?

Why not even Kurogiri cleans if Tomura was being cared by him? This clearly is intentional neglect, specially to keep his mood constantly down.

3 - His teeth

Tomura canonically has crooked teeth (compare his teeth to the other's in the jump festa art), cavities or at least what looks like plaques or dirt all over his teeth.

For someone raised by someone as filthy rich as AFO, he should've had access to dental care

4- Shaggy hair

His hair looks un-brushed, shaggy and dirty, which had no reason for before MVA when he became homeless, so why even at the start? How long has he taken a bath or a shower?

Look at the blatant difference in this scene after he showered at the PLF mansion

5- Unkept, ragged and broken nails

despite his hands also being very skinny, his nails are also all rough and broken Now, I know Tomura isn't a kid to have someone cut his nails for him, but this implies he was never teached how to take care for himself.

Besides of course his clear symptoms of depression and suicidal idealism, which, are very obvious, All for One IS neglecting Tomura by keeping him in that state /knowing/ he isn't being capable of taking care of himself.

6- His bedroom

First of all: No windows

Second, notice how empty it used to be, he had nothing but a bed and a desk, but right as he committed his first murder he started to receive toys, AFO is lovebombing and manipulating him to kill more

7- The obvious neglect to his pain

Notice how every time Tomura panics or is even wounded, he is just ignored and left on the floor bleeding out, puking or writhing.

Which uh- it isn't normal to watch your kid writhe in the floor while smiling and monologuing

8- 24/7 Surveillance and lack of privacy

There are cameras everywhere, AFO spends most of the time watching Tomura, even in his own bedroom, and even talks to him, Tomura probably hasn't had any privacy ever since he was 5

Which is a sign of abuse and control

His entire childhood from 5 to 20 is often relatable for people who grew in cult like environments, and homeschooled children who grew under controlling parents, despite the abuse not being as "obvious" since AFO never directly physically hurt him, the neglect and psychological torture is still there, that and more all the manipulation, gaslighting and grooming (think of Mother Gothel from Tangled as an example of this type of abuser)

By the way, talking about it

9- Gaslighting

"but wasn't /you/ who desired my power?"

The entire body possession plot is a clear evidence AFO never saw Tomura as anything other than a toy to play with, the same way he saw Yoichi, but so many people say the possession was a retcon because "early afo cleared saw him as his heir, he even said it's all for him!"

Well, argue with the literal "he's the next me", while he is.... weirdly caressing the screen while he watches his kid with no privacy- 100% creep behavior

10- AFO's bizzare behavior towards Tomura

The way All for One's hands are often shown caressing him or encasing him somehow, which yeah, it's part of the symbology of Tomura's character (hands that can both hurt and save)

But knowing AFO represents /hurt/ and, you know, i'ts kinda weird to caress the kid you kidnaped off the streets like that-

Cuz yes! Picking kids from the street even if they are orphan is illegal!! You should take them to a police station instead :D

Tomura was KIDNAPED by AFO, not saved.

11- Proof Tomura doesn't /feel/ saved

During his fight against Bakugou, when he sees him being helped, besides being "broken" he starts to spiral on "why no one saved me even before i was broken?"

The visual including the granny that ignored him on the streets

AFO broke him.

He recurrently thinks back to when he was on the streets, even though he was already traumatized, and had already killed his family, he still had /hope/ he ADMITS he believes he could've been different if it wasn't for AFO

If AFO had truly saved him,he wouldn't think like this

12- AFO gifting Tomura the corpses of his family to intentionally keep him nauseated, uncomfortable and traumatized, so he never heals

Besides their weird placements- On a kid. the gangster's hands being in his chest...

13-AFO's intentional desire for Tomura's discomfort

If this entire thread didn't make it obvious already, All for One benefits of Tomura's tiredness, ill feelings, nausea, depression and suicidal mindset, and over all physical and psychological discomfort

This ensures he's submissive to his manipulations and orders, keep him feeling hatred and anger due to constant overwhelming feelings and makes it harder for him to think of why AFO does all of it at all.

I could go even deeper than this about it, but i've reached thread limit and am lazy, so I hope you enjoyed this thread!

Thank you for reading

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #deku #izuku midoriya #all for one #afo #mha manga

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fuxuannie · 8 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 | kenji sato x gender neutral reader

love mail — ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ full & utter credit to @coralwitchsheep in support of their preview of a kenji x reader series they're starting! (i'd suggest reading theirs first before reading this for context) i'm inlove w the idea and can't wait to read the next parts o(T□T)o ♡♡ this is my own spin on it, so to cut it short — likely not canon events! i js wanted to make a oneshot w relatively same concept,, if this does okay maybe part two. maybe ! (this is kinda long 🙁)

︰꒱꒱ "THAT WENT WELL." you grumbled, entering your home with a frustrated sigh. what kind of guy runs away from an interview? all you asked was what could've possibly made him want to start from the beginning by coming back to japan. sure, maybe you startled him with your presence after 20 years, but come on. can't he be a little more professional? and maybe a little more welcoming to his best friend once upon a time?

as you snuggled into the comfort of your couch, you wanted to binge watch a few movies that you've been putting off.. but work called. you had to check your email incase any of your private interview bookings were accepted, or if the head journalist had yet another task for you. and if so, then to your dismay you'd have to figure out bookings and schedule.. and you should've been overjoyed to not receive any new ones, but there was one unopened email. curiously, you click on it — and you pause. kenji sato, as in — the one that just ran off after a single question, kenji sato? how did he find your email.. something you'll have to figure out later, but continuing to scan the contents, it seems like he wanted to have a one on one interview, and everything had been planned in advanced. it's in a restaurant not far from your home, in fact.. it was your favorite one from when you were a kid. reading the restaurant name makes you smile a little, fond memories of kenji's family and yours going there together, but you quickly shake your head to focus, this was basically work — after all.

it was a dinner, he wanted to apologize for his dismissive attitude to you earlier that day and give you a private interview. the entire email honestly felt computer generated, if mina wrote it you wouldn't be surprised until you got to the end;

"please, (name), let's catch up. professional setting or not, that's up to you. i just need to see you."

now you had to admit, that felt...— you weren't sure what it felt like, but you felt something while reading that. your fingers swiftly type back a response, accepting the invitation, with no bad blood between them for the prior interaction. as you click send, your mind began to wander off to possible situations. after all, twenty years.. it's a significant amount of time, and people can change — you just hoped it wouldn't be the worst reunion in the world.

the following day passed like spring breeze, next thing you knew you were dressing up for the arranged meeting with kenji. unsure whether to be casual or business, you weren't even set onto whether you wanted to catch up, or catch a story. job or feelings? now that's a hard decision. in the end, you went for a mix of both, a casual business attire.

you wondered if it was intentional for kenji to pick a place so close to home, literally and figuratively; it was a 5 minute walk and it.. honestly means a lot to you. your family still visits there often, and there's not one day that they don't discuss how much more joyful things would be with the sato's to share a meal with you. you couldn't help but silently agree, even if you wanted to act like you hated kenji for leaving.

you thought it would be smart to be there 10 minutes earlier, but kenji seems to have beaten you. he hasn't noticed you coming in yet, however he seems nervous. he's talking with the elderly head chef, who could easily recognize professor sato's only son boy — catching up after all those years. his head moves to the door by coincidence, catching your gaze. you wave hello and he smiles, waving back.

"holy shit." kenji feels like the air from his lungs is stolen right out of him. you've grown so much, well — yes, of course, it has been years, but god he didn't think you'd still have that affect on him. even as kids, as teenagers, and now as an adult — he couldn't help but feel breathless at the sight of you.

"hi mr. sato." you'll start, sitting next to him and giving a friendly smile. he laughed, taking his shades off his face and resting them down onto the table. "you know you don't have to do that with me, use my name. it's not like we're strangers." you didn't expect that, and kenji could see that in your eyes — he almost regrets saying it the way he did, but your expression melts into a much more casual one. "alright, kenji."

his attitude felt different, honestly. the things you've read about him from articles, he's an egoist — completely full of himself, he just can't stop talking about his own achievements. so to sit right next to him, and to feel like you're a little kid again, just eating wirh your best friend.. it's weird.

the silence is suffocating, food sizzling on pans and fire burning were the only things being 'exchanged' between the two of you.

deciding to break the silence, you cleared your throat. "so.. how has life been in america?" you immediately regret it. now you'll have to listen to him boast about his wins, how happy he's been — how you haven't even crossed his mi— "lonely."

your racing thoughts came to a pause at the sound of his voice, weirdly vulnerable, — you unknowingly made it so easy for him. "it was lonely. sure, but i won't lie—" kenji chuckled, although it lacked the joyful emotion tied to such form of laughter, and instead — sorrow. "the spotlights great. winning awards and trophies, it's what i've wanted to do for years. but.."

his hand moves over to his face, and suddenly it's harder to keep eye contact with you. he leans back into his chair and scoffs, looking away. "i missed japan. i missed my family.. i — i missed you."

your mouth goes slightly agape in an 'o' shape. you suddenly fumble on any words you can think of, even in your own mind, you begin to stutter. "i'm—" you'll try to speak but it's like you have no mouth, nothing can describe how you feel at the moment, it's such a basic and simple arrangement of words, an 'i miss you', and yet — why do you feel like this? you resented him for not calling, you envied how happy he was through a tv screen, and you wished that he'd just.. come back. and he did. he was doing exactly what you had hoped for in the past 20 years but — "i.. i've watched your life through a screen. every game, every loss, anything that involved you. and for those years, it felt impossible to tell *anyone* we were best friends. once." the *once* hit kenji harder than you thought. "but i wished, like some child spotting a shooting star — that you'd call. and not those half assed ones, where it was really just our parents talking and they call us over to say hi to each other. i mean, like we used to."

"what do you mean?" "you know what i mean."

your mind feels nostalgic as you reminicse; "2AM, you'll be talking about some punk from school who gave you trouble. and how i'd promise i'll beat them up once mom and dad had enough money to visit." a pitiful sigh escaped your lips. "they never did."

"i just.. i never wanted to move on, kenji. i never wanted to stop waiting. but.. i didn't want to keep feeling like a dog at your door for you."

as clichè as it is to hug someone during a dramatic monologue, kenji felt like there was nothing else he could do. words were practically silence when actions could do much more for him. his arms wrapped around you tightly, and his face was buried into your shoulder. he wanted to explain, but there was so much to cover in so little time — and he honestly just wanted you to feel better at the moment. "i wish i had known this is how you felt all those years apart. and i wish that i could've done more, but shit happens and i—"

and it's even more clichè to return that hug, with just as much feeling. "i know. and let's just.. talk things out, yeah? i've got a free day tomorrow so.. i don't think i'll mind spending the night with you."

"reword please, you'd love to spend the night with me."

"don't flatter yourself too much before i change my mind."

"alright alright, let's just eat already."

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader

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mysteriousauthor448 · 4 months ago

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What if Class of 09 Flipside was made by a Woman?

I liked Class of 09. I liked it's snappy dialogue, I liked it's social commentary of high school and women's experiences with creepy men and adulthood, I liked how it gave such a compelling main character where you know she's awful yet acknowledge that she has her reasons without justification. I like Class of 09, both the original and re-up. What I don't like though, is Class of 09: The Flipside.

Setting my personal disgust with the feet routes and the 'Palestinian slave trade' comment aside, the writing in Flipside just is completely different from the last 2. Instead of focusing on the biting social commentary of the woman experience, it instead prioritizes shock value with only some form of substance (e.g, jecka seeing nicole's suicide, jeffrey's death, the ending messages apart from the creator) And you know what else sucks? We never actually got to explore Jecka properly of who she is as a character, her relationships with her family, friends, former friends...Sure, we get doses of her life like her dad which does do what the game promised: Change how we saw the Class of 09 story before. We now understand why Jecka was terrified of the cop's yelling, not only because an powerful authority abusing his power but also experienced it before. See, this was the stuff I expected from Flipside. This was what the game should've prioritised in. Instead, it seemed like the creator would rather showcase his fetishes and spite people that don't like him or the game. From that there on, I keep thinking to myself: 'you know, this game would've been better had a woman wrote this.' But can they?

I'm a woman experienced high school before, even tried to fit the class of 09 writing style on my characters in my own personal time. Given how a lot of class of 09 fans are disappointed with the new game and I want to get into writing publically, I figure that I be the one to rewrite Class of 09 The Flipside in hopes of re-capturing the essence of the first two games alongside the game's intentions itself. Even though it's still in development, I've already outlined the routes/endings so far for you all to get a peek:

Route 1/Ending 1 - Invasion of MySpace: The foot route will be replaced by Jecka taking and making videos/pictures in order to make money after being fired from her job. Think of it like a late 2000s or early 2010s version of OnlyFans. This would help remain the social commentaries of men’s creepy behaviour to women alongside how their safety is affected. There’ll be an option of whether to go to the creepy man’s house or go home. If she goes home, she finds Nicole giving her dad a handjob with a dead expression. It ends with Jecka killing herself and implies that Nicole followed her too (not half naked though, just in regular clothes cuz I'm not a freak unlike someone)

Ending 2 - MurderSpace: If Jecka chose to go to the creepy man’s home, she gets murdered and placed like a doll in the man’s basement.

Route 2/Ending 6 - Breaking the Wounded Heart: Jecka finds herself to work with Karen and Ari at Dominos. Overtime, they start to form a bond and Jecka herself starts to mature and finds Nicole to be unbearable. Jecka finally breaks off her friendship with Nicole and cuts forward to the future where Jecka currently lives a peaceful yet boring life, reflecting on the past with Nicole, wondering if she’s really better off without Nicole because while she’s now in a stable life without the chaos, it's the chaos that entertained her: Nicole entertained her. And now it’s all gone. But in the end, it suggests that things are much better with Nicole gone as it cuts to a phone beeping and Jecka looking down at it with a smile while Ari is by her side. Yes, this is the route where Jeckari is canon. I know this sounds too sweet for Class of 09 but I want it to still match the vibe with it being less shocking but more real in a way. Something too realistically depressing but still mundane. This is what I planned to be the saddest but best outcome of the game. The most real I should say.

Ending 5 - Was it all worth it?: If Jecka chooses Nicole over her new friends, it ends with her and Nicole being homeless smoking drugs in an abandoned forest with Jecka reflecting on whether or not she made a good choice with Nicole before commenting on needing a Xanax to distract her from the regret and pain.

Route 3/Ending 3 - Fuck Men!: Jecka gets into a relationship with a presumably kind-hearted gentleman. Nicole tries to warn her but Jecka won’t listen. She then is coerced by the man into doing sexual favours for his economic gain, making her become a sex trafficked victim.

Route 4/Ending 4 - Drunk Drive Delivery: Same route where Ari dies but instead the ending changed to Jecka being arrested for 6 months where the ending monologue would showcase her conflicted in anger and regret. Plus, it plays more to the idea of Jecka ‘dying at 21’ logic with being forced to work: adult party culture: that kind of thing.

I'd be happy to hear any feedback or/and ideas for this rewrite.

#class of 09 #co09 #class of 09 jecka #class of 09 the flipside #class of 09 the flipside rewrite

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hollowed-theory-hall · 10 months ago

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what's the one harry potter pairing u like that u mentioned in the tags of your hinny post?

Anonymous: Can I ask who that minor character you ship with Harry is? For some absurd reason my mind jumped to Stan Shunpike lol but it's probably not him.... Or is it?

Okay, so this is kind of a funny story. Like, my pipeline through hp pairings was a weird one. Like, I used to read a lot of Harry pairings, still do on occasion (some make more sense than others). None of them were ones I would point at and say: "that should've happened in the books"

One day, I was innocently writing a fic (canon divergence of GoF), and it was just for me, for funnsies, never posted it anywhere and not planning to. And I planned to pair Harry with someone there (honestly, I don't remember who because I didn't write the plan down) but when writing, Harry ended up with a different character. And it was so strange to me because that never happened.

Like, how do you write a ship accidentally?

But I did. I wrote Harry into a ship by accident. So I went back to the books to try and figure out why the hell would my subconscious decide that's the way to go.

I'll also preface it by all this being my subjective opinion and I do read other Harry ships in fics, this one just quickly became my favorite to write (and the only one I write). Also, I don't actually think this is a pairing that should've happened in the books, it's place is in fic and that's where I like it.

So, the character I accidentally shipped with Harry is... *drumroll*

Stan Shunpike!

Not really, it's:

Theodore Nott

Now, you might look at the name and go: "Who the fuck is that?"

And you'll be correct. Theo has 0 speaking lines in the entire book series. His name appears twice. He, himself, as a person, only appeared on page, like, 3 times in the background. The scene that gives the most information about him is other characters talking about him. He isn't even present.

That being said, I'm very good at extrapolating a lot of information from very little evidence. So allow me, to walk you through who is Theodore Nott and why I ship him with Harry.

Basic Information

So, let's start with the most basic overview before I pull out the quotes and go any deeper.

We know Theo is a Slytherin student in Harry's year. So he likely shares a dorm with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Theo's father is both at the graveyard at the end of GoF and in the Department of Mysteries at the end of OotP, so we know he is a Death Eater. We also know Thoe's father was one of the first and closest Death Eaters to Voldemort, who waited for him during his interview with Dumbledore in 1967:

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed...”

(HBP, page 444)

We also know the Nott family is "as pure-blooded as the Malfoys" according to JKR in an interview. We also know Theo's great-grandfather (maybe? the family relation isn't clear), Cantankerus Nott, is suspected to be the one who wrote the Pure-Blood Dictionary, the book that coined the term "Sacred 28" and made that list (which the Nott family are on).

The name Nott is potentially to be derived from the name Nótt, which is the personification of the night in Norse Mythology. So it has been theorized the Nott family have a Nordic origin. Possible, but it doesn't really matter for this post.

What does, is that he comes from a dark, Death Eater, blood-purist family similar to the Malfoys. Even so, Theo never took the Dark Mark and never joined Voldemort in the books.

Now, that we have the basic information out of the way, let's look at Theodore as a person.

All the details I could gather from the books

Alright, now we get to the fun part. That is, me going through all the relevant scenes that mention Theodore Nott and actually creating a character psychoanalysis out of basically nothing.

So, the quotes aren't organized in a particular order. I'm just going to explain Theo and then explain why all this makes me ship him with Harry.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —” “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

(HBP, page 150)

This is a part of the conversation between Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, Harry overhears when he is hiding in their compartment at the beginning of HBP. I have a few things to note regarding this scene.

Firstly, throughout this conversation, Pansy, Blaise, and Draco all call each other by their first name. This shows closeness, they are all friendly and familiar enough to use their first names with each other. Theo, though, is referred to as "Nott" by all three in the compartment.

He doesn't actually sit in their compartment which is in itself a sign about how he isn't really friendly with Draco's group. Considering the group is most of his year from his house, Theo is likely very lonely, and it will be apparent from other scenes I bring up later.

Secondly, Theo's father is in Azkaban. We know Draco is bothered about his own father's predicament. He mentions it to Harry and bothers him over it, Theo doesn't though. Theo doesn't seem to be bothered by Harry or his father's incarceration.

The only conclusion I can draw from this is that the relationship between Theo and his father is not a good one.

(I know some fics like to have Lucius be abusive towards Draco, for some reason. But the books really don't back this up. Lucius loves Draco and Draco adores his father)

Theo, though, Theo seems to be the one with a very strained relationship with his father. Strained enough that he isn't bothered the man is in Azkaban. What I'm saying is that Theo's father likely abuses or mistreats him in some capacity.

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters

(OotP, page 583)

This is a scene at the end of OotP after Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo's fathers were caught at the ministry and sent to Azkaban because they are Death Eaters. There are a few important notes about this scene.

The first, Hermione knows Theo, while Harry and Ron don't really. This means she likely knows him from the classes she takes and Harry and Ron don't — Arithmancy and/or Ancient Runes.

The second, he is sitting with other Death Eater children, but I don't think it's by choice. I mentioned in the previous quote how he isn't close to Draco and his crew. He sits with them here mostly because he doesn't have another choice. Theo doesn't seem to really have any friends, so he sits with the closest people he has to friends — kids he has known since he was young because their fathers were in the same circle.

The other note about this is that Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco are all mentioned as being threatening and malicious towards Harry because they don't like that their fathers are in Azkaban. Theo, though, Theo doesn't threaten Harry, he isn't part of their whisperings. As I mentioned above, he's likely happy his father is in Azkaban.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, “Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?” Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face, and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

(OotP, page 445)

“The only people who can see thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

(OotP, page 446)

The stringy Slytherin boy mentioned here is Theo. This scene proves that:

He takes Care of Magical Creatures

He saw someone die

Let's explore the second one for a moment. The fact Theo can see Thestrals means he watched someone die and was old enough to comprehend what he was seeing. We also know Theo's mother is dead. So it's likely the person he watched die was his mother.

I also want to draw attention to Theo's distaste towards Thestrals. He could likely see them carrying the carriages every year since 2nd year, it's not his first time seeing them. But it doesn't stop his displeasure with their sight from showing. Which says something about him. It means he likely recalls his mother and her death whenever he looks at the Thestrals. and these are memories Theo rather not experience.

We don't know how his mother died, but I'd hazard a guess it wasn't natural. After all, wizards have long life spans, they are more durable to illness and injury, and don't usually die from accidents unless very extreme or magical. And there was no epidemic of dragonpox (a disease that does tend to kill wizards) in the time since 1980 and the books. So, she was more likely killed at some point between 1985(ish) and 1991.

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

(HBP, pages 185-186)

First, Theo is an O student in potions since he is in the potions NEWT class, and was probably meant to be there even if Snape was the teacher.

Second, again, Theo doesn't really have friends. He sits next to Draco as the only other Slytherin in the class. Also, they share the circumstances of being sons of Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. Although both of them seem to deal with it quite differently.

Third, Theo joins Draco in making fun of Hermione's blood status, but he does not initiate it. Considering the environment he was raised in and is in, it makes sense he would make fun of it. Whether he's a blood-purist or not, he would want to keep his image considering he doesn't have many allies. Hanging out with Draco is survival, not friendship. They aren't even on a first-name basis with each other.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . . .

(HBP, page 186)

The final quote I have about Theo is from the same potions class as above. Both he and Draco are portrayed here as underestimating amortentia and its potential damage. It makes sense for their upbringing in the Wizarding World, which has no real laws or regulations regarding love potions that are seen as harmless fun more often than not.

I'll add Theo likely didn't witness a healthy romantic relationship. Considering his father is a Death Eater who is likely abusive and may or may not have killed his mother. With this as his reference to a marriage, it's clear why he'd look down on love and love potions.

Why I think Theo and Harry have potential

Okay, so now that we know who Theodore Nott is, let's talk about why I ship him with Harry.

I think Harry, in general, would get along best with a clever partner with the ability to be ruthless (Slytherins or Ron fall into this category). Because Harry isn't some golden savior; he casts unforgivables, and is very willing to poison Umbridge or Crocio Snape if he could get away with it. He needs a partner that won't be horrified by these thoughts.

Also, Theo literally never speaks on page. Even when spoken to, his reactions are silent. I think this quiet and no need to talk, the ability to be comfortable in silence, is something that would be comfortable for Harry. Harry in the books finds himself annoyed with Ron and Hermione's constant banter on occasion, so I think it fits well.

Theo would also be comfortable around Harry without a need to play a certain part. Because Harry wouldn't care about that. He would honestly rather Theo forgo the pure-blood Slytherin act.

I feel like Harry and Theo, have a good potential to understand each other. Theo lost his mother and likely experiences abuse from his father. It makes them very likely to trauma bond over their crap life and shared experience. Two out of three only ones who could see the Thestrals in the entire class.

The other thing I feel they could connect over is being lonely. Harry spent all his childhood until Hogwarts basically being on his own. Theo stayed on his own. Draco at least has his parents, he has other students he's closer to, not that he shares everything with them, but he has some support network. Theo has none. And this is something Harry knows well.

Theo, I think, wouldn't expect anything specific from Harry. He doesn't even interact with him, not to mock him, and not to idolize him, he doesn't care at all. And we know how much Harry appreciates being thought of as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived. Theo would allow Harry to be himself without some mold he wants him to fit in.

The fact Theo never becomes a Death Eater, even though he was in Draco's year and his father was a Death Eater before Lucius (and in better standing than Lucius with Voldemort) is so interesting. It's somewhat surprising Theo wasn't marked. It means he didn't want to be. It means that Theo Nott didn't want to torture and kill muggleborns or blood traitors, or anyone really. And he didn't want to swear his allegiance to Voldemort. This is just a fascinating fact to me and something I enjoy considering. What life experience made him come to that conclusion? Was it just his dislike of his father that pushed him away? Could he have been another Sirius Black (Gryffindor in a Slytherin family) under slightly different circumstances? I mean, Voldemort likely wouldn't force him to become a Death Eater, but would his father? I don't know what at all went down there, but I like that potential story.

We also know he wasn't part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, even though some minor Slytherins were mentioned to be part of it. He just seems to be an actually decent guy (I don't care what Cursed Child says about him, I know he's there but I avoided almost anything to do with Cursed Child so I barely know the plot).

Finally, this is a character Harry doesn't have as much drama to get over with. Yes, sometimes I want to read overcoming drama between characters before it becomes a romance, but sometimes I want something chiller than that. And Theo is a really chill, safe, Slytherin option for Harry.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon #hp #hp thoughts #harry james potter #asks #anon asks #anonymous #theodore nott #theo nott #nottpott #ship talk

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marvelfilth · 2 years ago

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Off the deep end (18+)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, dubcon (just to be safe), knife play, spanking, fingering, choking, degradation, mention of blood, alcohol and weed

Summary: "You're going to spread your legs for me. If you're wet, I'll do whatever I want to you. If you're not, I'll leave."

Masterlist

The floor almost vibrates with how loud the bass is, making your ears ring as you frown in search of Tara. She disappeared some time ago to look for another drink, claiming she was good enough to go on her own. You can already feel the ass whopping you're about to be put through for losing sight of her.

You bump into another drunk frat boy when you finally see her, immediately fastening your pace when you notice some asshole wrapped around her.

You already regret the amount of tequila you've drank throughout the night.

In reality, recent news of Ghostface attacks should've kept you locked at home, preferably with sharp objects by your side, but Tara practically begged you to join her at the party, claiming she needed someone to keep her company since she didn't want to third wheel Mindy and Anika, and follow Chad around while he's trying to find Ethan a girlfriend, so you quickly agreed, feeling the need to let loose after months spent panicking about the killings.

The killings that somehow always revolved around Blackmore ever since they transferred there.

You tried not to think too much into that, but soon enough Mindy deemed you trustworthy and gave you a quick, but intense dive into their story. You understood it all a bit better after that.

And installed a security system.

So yeah, you needed that drink, a couple of them, actually.

"Hey." You get her attention and pull at her hand, but she resists. "It's time to go." You say, watching the way she's blinking slowly, heavily leaning on the arm of the asshole.

"I'm fine. You can go, don't wait for me." She giggles and tugs him up the stairs.

You stop for a second to take a deep breath before following them. Her palm is sweaty in your hand when you tug her back, catching her as stumbles down the stairs.

"Y/n, what the fuck?" She groans, trying to pry away.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" The asshole pushes you against the wall, leering over you before he's sent flying down with a precise punch to his jaw.

"Sam, are you insane?" Tara shouts over the loud music and marches away with a huff when her sister sends her a seething look. You make a move to follow her, but sag back against the wall when you see Chad hot on her heels.

Your attention is pulled to the older woman when you feel gentle fingers cup your jaw. "Are you okay?" Sam asks, her eyes flickering all over your face. Your chest tightens and you fight the urge to lean into her soft palm and press kisses all over her fingertips.

You sigh, nodding. "You got here just in time."

There's a groan coming from the floor and Sam snaps her eyes back to the man, her expression darkening as she makes a move to him.

You get in her way, catching hold of her wrists before she could move any further. "Let's just go, okay? He's not worth it."

Her jaw clenches and you can clearly see the debate that's happening in her head.

"He was going to hurt Tara. He hurt you." She snarls, her eyes trained on the whimpering man.

"And you stopped him. Let's go check on Tara, okay?"

She relents, begrudgingly, and dutifully follows you outside.

The fight between the sisters is anything, but pretty.

You really don't want to stay to see the rest of it, so you wave Mindy over and tell her your uber is waiting around the corner. She looks skeptical for a second, but then there's mentions of therapy and her attention is pulled back to the fight as she mutters something about calling her when you get home safe.

You nod and quickly disappear around the corner, happy to delay the inevitable confrontation. Sam might've been worried at the party, but it doesn't mean she won't chew you out as soon as she's done with Tara. You just hope she won't be as angry tomorrow.

Luckily you live not far away, so you're not even worried, whistling some tune as you make your way home, your eyes dropping slightly from alcohol and exhaustion. Sober you would've thought it to be way too fucking dark and creepy to be walking alone down the alley to your apartment complex, but you're tipsy on tequila and tequila always makes you a little too reckless, so you throw caution to the wind and continue your way.

And then you see something out of the corner of your eye and freeze, when you realize that a man just turned to follow you down the alley. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see him pull out something shiny from his pocket.

You start moving faster, almost jogging the rest of the way and turn around before rounding the corner.

The man is gone.

You make it up the stairs in record time considering your wobbly knees, and sag against the door once you're finally safely inside.

It's nearing midnight, you note, sending Mindy a quick text before making your way to the bathroom. You are tired, but not tired enough to wake up feeling gross after a night out, so you take your time under the hot stream, washing away the smell of alcohol and weed.

And then you hear something fall in the kitchen.

You frown and step out of the shower, drying yourself in the process. You open the door and peek outside, barely breathing to make sure you don't miss anything strange.

When nothing happens again you sigh, wrapping the towel around your still wet body and go to the kitchen to investigate. If your pan fell from its hook again you'll have to ask Chad to come over and fix it for you.

You freeze when you see it swinging from side to side on the hook, clutching at your towel as you turn around to grab your phone, only to run into a solid, cloaked form.

"Hello, Y/n."

You barely register the distorted voice before you're being yanked by your hair and pushed against the counter, a knife flashing in your line of vision.

"Your parents didn't tell you not to walk alone at night? Especially when there's a serial killer on the loose." They continue, pressing the edge of the knife to your neck.

You look up at the Ghostface mask. Dread fills your chest and you shake in their hold, eyes filling with tears while you think of a possible escape, but your body goes numb and your mouth won't open, so you just stand there, gaping at the imposing figure.

"Pathetic little thing." They growl, before placing the knife against your chest and slicing your towel away.

You blink when it falls at your feet, and the sight suddenly spurs you into action.

You grab the pan from behind you and swing it hard against the intruder, but they easily avoid it, catching your arm in an ironclad grip and turning you around to press you against the cold countertop. You hiss through gritted teeth and throw your heel as hard as you can against their kneecap, sending them tumbling to the floor in a heap of black fabric.

You don't get a chance to run too far when they catch your ankle, making you fall face first on the floor. You're turned on your back before weight settles on your hips.

"Maybe not so pathetic," the voice sounds almost pleased before they pin your hands above your head.

You're suddenly all too aware of your state of undress when you feel their eyes on you. You try to squirm, but they don't budge, the Ghostface mask tilting as they look you up and down.

You grow embarrassingly red in the chest, trying to think of something, anything to distract the murderer from you, but you're not sure there's anything good enough to get their eyes off you at the moment.

"Who's blood is that?" You blurt, eyeing the knife on the floor.

They tilt their head to the other side. "Not yours."

You suck in a sharp breath, wincing at your stupidity.

"Okay…" you whimper, closing your eyes, "are you going to kill me?"

They pick up the knife and raise it over your chest before lowering to trail the blade over the skin of your breasts.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"I would've killed you by now if I wanted to," they say and release your wrists to take hold of your neck, not squeezing, just resting fingers on the tender skin of your neck.

The gesture sends shivers down your spine.

"Aren't you pretty like this?" The knife point barely grazes your nipple and you bite your lip, stifling a whimper. You push against their shoulders, digging your nails into the robe as you try to keep them away, squirming in their hold.

"Let me go, please." Your whispers turn desperate when their fingers squeeze around your throat, making it hard to breathe. "Please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

You nod feverishly, not trusting your voice.

They pull away, the weight on your hips completely disappears when they shift to sit to your side, trailing the blade down to your belly button.

"Then we'll play a little game." They chuckle and you open your eyes, waiting for them to continue. "You're going to spread your legs for me. If you're wet, I'll do whatever I want to you. If you're not, I'll leave."

You stop breathing altogether, suddenly hyper aware of the wetness pooling between your thighs. You shift unconsciously, edging away from the Ghostface in hopes of escaping before they inevitably notice your arousal. You're shaking, your sole focus on the person that made you tremble with a few simple touches.

You don't know what you feel more, repulsion or arousal, but then their fingers wrap around your jaw and you know you don't have time to debate your feelings.

You have to do something, and you have to do it fast.

"Don't even think about it," they growl, getting dangerously close to your face.

In a flash, they have you on their lap, legs spread on either side of their hips as they push you down hard against their thigh. You moan loudly, rocking your hips against their dark pants, leaving a trail of wetness.

"Fuck," you whimper, clawing at their shoulders, "please…"

They slap your thigh, stopping your movements with a heavy grip of your hip bone. "Please what? Please stop?"

Your head falls in the crook of their neck as you whine, desperately trying to move.

Fuck this. You'll think about the consequences tomorrow.

"Don't stop." You breath against the mask, tugging their gloved hand up to your neck.

Their fingers wrap around the back of your neck and then you're pushed down on your stomach, your legs bent at the knees and forced apart before they deliver a hard spank on your ass, making you cry out against the hardwood floor.

"Such a slut."

Another spank.

"Whoring yourself out to a stranger, a murderer."

You try to rub your thighs together, your pussy clenching when they land another slap to your reddening ass, the sound echoing through the room. Suddenly, they pull away and there's shuffling of the fabric before a pair of leather gloves lands in front of your face.

Your hips buckle in anticipation.

"Don't get too excited," they chuckle, before landing a palm against your wet center, making your whole body twitch.

You pant, reveling in the feeling of their soft fingers gently soozing the pain, gliding through your folds to settle against your slit. You hold your breath, waiting for them to finally push inside and fuck your brains out when another loud spank echoes through the room, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"You look beautiful like this, fuck," they breath out, spreading your lower lips and teasing your entrance, pulling quiet moans out of you.

Your whole body is on fire and you can feel your arousal leaking down your thigh before it's caught by a hot, wet tongue.

"Mhm," the person, a woman, hums and you realize she just threw away the mask with the voice changer in favor of tasting you.

You don't have a chance to say anything when her tongue slides up your slit, lapping at the wetness and dipping down to tease your throbbing clit with the tip of her tongue. Your knees buckle, your body shaking from pleasure. She tugs your head by your hair, pulling you up against her front when you nearly fall, her fingers gliding down your stomach to disappear inside you in one deep thrust. Your eyes squeeze shut and your head falls back against her shoulder as she sets up a fast rhythm, her other hand reaching across to play with your breasts.

"Faster-" you whine, burrowing your nose in her soft hair, clawing at her forearm.

She pulls her fingers out and lands another slap on your inner thigh in warning, and turns her head to bite down at the juncture of your neck, making sure to leave a mark.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me," she whispers and you think you recognise the voice, but her fingers on your aching nub feel too heavenly to place it and your eyes are too heavy to listen to the command, so you whine and tug her face back to your neck, moaning when she litters it with wet kisses.

She circles your clit with her thumb so slowly and softly, barely applying pressure before diving back in and curling her fingers inside of you, making you come in two hard thrusts.

×××

"Did you get home safe yesterday?" Mindy asks, nudging you with her knee.

You look up from your book, squinting against the sun, your hand flying up to fiddle with the soft fabric of your turtleneck. "Yeah. I sent you a text, right?"

Mindy groans, falling back on the soft grass and nods, throwing her arm over her eyes. "I called you, though, but you didn't pick up. Got me worried for a second."

You wince, hiding your face behind the book. "Sorry. Fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow."

You don't mention the fact that you don't remember ever going to your bedroom, let alone falling asleep. The last thing you remember from yesterday is Ghostface wrapped around you, taking you apart. You stifle the urge to run your fingers along the fabric that covers your bruised skin. It's really not the time to think about it.

She rolls her eyes before looking over at you. "Lucky you. I really hate you right now."

"What did I do?" You ask, affronted.

She pushes your shoulder, sending you a dirty look. "You should've seen the look on Sam's face when she realized you already left. If she was angry with Tara before, she turned positively livid when she realized you went alone. She wanted to follow you, but Tara intervened, calling her overbearing and overprotective and it got even worse. We had to call an uber because Tara refused to get in Sam's car, and Sam didn't even look at her when she drove off to God knows where."

You put down your book. "She didn't go home?" You asked, tugging at your bottom lip.

"She did, a few hours later and drunk out of her mind," Mindy rolls her eyes, exasperated. "They really should talk one of these days or I'll stab them myself."

You chuckle, but your mind is still stuck on the revealed information. You decide to think about it later when you notice Tara stomping in your direction with Chad by her side. "Hey." She mumbles, still clearly in a bad mood.

You send them a small wave and tune out their conversation, butting in only when necessary and mostly keeping to yourself, trying your hardest to focus on the words in your book and not on the way your whole body aches.

"By the way, I'm kinda grounded so we're hanging at my place tonight." Tara's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you groan, burrowing your face in the book.

Fucking great. You can already feel the headache coming. Sam is going to have a field day and you won't even be able to retaliate while your body is still hyper sensitive from being fucked out of your mind.

Someone pinches your side. "Don't be too sad, Sam promised booze," Chad says, sending you a wink.

You let out a soft laugh, your head falling on his shoulder in the process. He grins, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in a bone crushing hug. You sag against his chest, content to bask in the warmth of your friends' company, until you feel someone boring holes into your forehead.

You look up and see Tara's questioning look, her eyes flickering between you and Chad, and you roll your eyes and shake your head at the smaller girl, jokingly pushing him away and standing up to go to your last class of the day.

"You coming?" You ask and she nods, following a step behind you, hesitating to start a conversation.

You sigh. "Tara, you know I have zero interest in Chad."

She runs into you when you suddenly stop, and scrunches up her nose, hiding her eyes behind her hand. "It's not that," she grumbles and snakes her hand around your elbow, tugging you through the crowd. "I wanted to say thank you. You know, for yesterday. I was really stupid."

You look at your friend, your heart squeezing in your chest at the vulnerable look she sends you. "Anytime," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and she finally relaxes.

×××

"My favorite person!" Quinn beams from the couch when you step inside the apartment, holding a bag full of snacks. "Hey there, girlfriend." She presses a kiss to your cheek and takes away the bag, leading you to the kitchen.

Everyone is already here since you were the one to go to the store. Your last class passed without a hitch, and even though Tara kept sending you weird looks every now and then, you figured she was just jealous. That was the main reason why you pushed her in Chad's direction when she tried to join you.

You're more than happy to see them sitting side by side on the small couch, hunched and giggling over something on his phone.

You blush when you notice Sam standing in the corner, leaned over the stove, slowly stirring something in a boiling pot. Even you can admit she looks like shit from the night spent drinking, her hair a disheveled mess and her eyes bloodshot.

"All these snacks and you're still the best one," Quinn smirks, throwing away the paper bag and taking the food to the living room.

You snort and give her the finger.

Sam whirls around with a spatula in her hand and sends a dark glare to the back of Quinn's before looking you up and down with an unreadable expression on her face, taking in your attire, her eyes lingering on your neck.

You stifle the urge to fiddle with your shirt again and curl your hand into fists, nails digging into your palms.

"Y/n." She eventually mumbles in greeting and turns back around to rummage through the fridge.

"Sam." You look around and decide to settle on the counter. "What are you cooking?"

She tenses, the muscles of her shoulders straining under her tank top as she holds her hands in the air, mid way to the fridge. She sends you a look over her shoulder and takes out a bottle of orange juice.

"Pasta. Want some?" She asks like she's just trying to be polite and not actually offering you a meal.

You look down at your feet, your mood dampened by a single sentence. You feel like you deserve the cold shoulder. "I'm good, thanks." You hop off the counter and turn around to leave.

She catches your wrist. "Not so fast."

You try to not pay attention to the way your skin gets hot all over at the simplest touch, fixing your eyes on hers. You think you can drown in their depth.

"I'm sorry about yesterday." You whisper, placing your palm over hers, and gently squeeze her fingers.

Her eyes darken and she looks down at the motion, her lips parting slightly.

You pray she'll let you off easy.

"Y/n, you need to see this." Mindy calls out, gaining your attention.

Sam blinks, her brows furrow. "We'll talk later," she promises and leads you to the living room and tugs you to sit next to her on the soft cushions, her fingers still wrapped around your wrist. You sag against the pillow and focus on the TV.

"Another fatal stabbing happened yesterday just before midnight. A man in his early thirties was stabbed seventeen times…"

"That's your neighborhood, right?" Tara asks, her face a picture of concern. "You always go down this alley."

"Yeah," you gulp, staring at the photo of the man who followed you yesterday.

The grip on your wrist turns almost possessive, and you turn to look at Sam, choking on your breath when you see a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Your chest is starting to feel too heavy, and your breathing becomes labored. Suddenly, you're back at the apartment, with Ghostface pinning your wrists and the blood on the knife now makes perfect sense.

Ghostface wasn't there to hurt you.

She saved you.

___________________________

Do we want a part two?

#Sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #ghostface sam #ghostface!sam #ghostface!sam x reader #ghostface sam x reader #ghostface!sam carpenter #ghostface x reader #sam carpenter smut #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #scream #scream 6 #off the deep end

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lillaydee · 12 days ago

Text

Head Over Heels Part 5

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 4

---

Maria pulled you inside, hugging you with all her might as your body went limp, sobbing uncontrollably while she tried to hold you up. She made you sit down and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a steaming cup of tea for you. She sat down next to you and rubbed your back until your sobs became less than a hiccup, before asking you to tell her what happened.

You told her everything. Bill and Frank. Tess. The crush you had harboured for Joel all this while, watching him from afar wishing he would look your way at all, all the while knowing there was nothing you could do – he was with your best friend. The way he ignored you on the road, the way he abandoned you, and then acted like you didn’t exist while sleeping across the corridor from you. The conversations you’d heard from him and Tommy, the way he talked about you. How adamant he was that he would never, ever be with you. How those conversations basically made you feel so fucking unworthy of his attention, when he so freely gave them to others he barely knew.

You told her about Ellie. The outburst the teenager had that sliced your heart into thin, deli slices. How she broke your heart with the things she said, the things she called you.

How all your efforts to have a somewhat normal life and routine with the two of them, even if only as roommates, were thrown back in your face as if they were worthless.

How finally, after 20 years of only having regular contact with two people in your life, you now lived in a town full of people, a place where you were not wanting for friends to talk to, to turn to, but had never felt lonelier in your life, simply due to the actions of the two people who you were supposed to trust the most in what was left of this fucked up world. The two people you put your neck out for. Risked your life for. Put up with. Those you protected and cared for this past year or so.

Your steaming cup of tea had gone cold by the time you finished talking, Maria looking at you with tears in her eyes.

“Elena, Ellie is a kid. Don’t you remember what you were like at that age? And we grew up in a different world, and even back then being a teenager was torture. It couldn’t have been easy for her, going through everything… she just needed some time to adjust. Maybe, after escaping FEDRA, she got so used to having no one control her, and now she acted out of frustration. I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” she said.

“And Joel… he had been through a lot… when you guys were gone, I thought about the things you said about him, you know, when I asked you to be careful with him? I asked Tommy questions about him, about you. He told me things, things that I cannot tell you – not my story to tell. But, Elena, you need to give Joel a chance. It’ll take some time, but he’ll come around. Tommy assured me that he would.”

You shook your head slowly.

“You may be right about Ellie, but Maria, she may be a kid, but you don’t need to be an adult to know your words could hurt. And she said those words to hurt me, Maria. She knew they would hurt me. That’s why she said them. Out of malice. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

You wiped your face with your shawl again. You seemed to need to do that quite a bit tonight.

“And Joel, whatever he’d been through, we’ve all been through. We’ve all lost someone. And yet, not all of us decided to make the conscious decision to act the way he did. He’s not interested in me, I get it, I’m a big girl, I understand you cannot force the way you feel about someone. But did he really need to dig the knife in? He couldn’t have just treated me like a normal person he lives with? He doesn’t treat Ellie that way. When I met Ellie, he had known her two days. Two days, Maria. He’d known me 15 years. I swear he was almost gleeful in making me feel unwanted. And I am so sick of feeling like an unwanted puppy, just jumping around, vying for his attention only to be kicked aside. You should have seen him with Vanessa tonight. With Esther. But me? Hmph. God forbid he should treat me with kindness and respect.”

Maria couldn’t say anything. She knew you were right. She had seen it with her own eyes. She heard what Tommy said about her brother-in-law, but she could see where you were coming from too. Joel was different with you compared to anyone else. There was never any smile for you, his eyes always averted, his body language stiff, his expressions stoic.

She wanted you to stay. She liked you. She liked your company. Liv and Diana liked you. The whole town liked you. You were easy to like, except to Ellie and Joel.

“Okay,” Maria said, “I have a place for you. It’s sort of hidden, not many people know about the place. We’ll go look at it tomorrow. Can we get Liv and Diana to join us? We need to clean the place up a bit, it’s been years since anyone lived there.”

You nodded enthusiastically, hugging Maria with all your might. Please, you asked her, don’t tell anyone else. You lived with Bill for 20 years. You had older brothers. You could fix stuff around the house yourself. You didn’t need anyone’s help, no need to get Tommy or Joel to fix anything.

“You don’t want Joel and Ellie to know where you are?” she asked, her face crestfallen.

You took a deep breath and took her hand in yours.

“Maria, I doubt they’ll even notice I’m gone.”

**********

The place was perfect. It’s a room, basically, a studio with a small cast iron stove. With a bathroom attached. There was no kitchen, nor the ventilation for one if you wanted to use the stove for cooking. The one tiny window would hardly circulate the air around if you did. But you could take food from the dining hall. It’s hidden, just as Maria had said. It was part of the library, accessible from outside via a spiral staircase leading up to the door at the back of the building. There was another door leading directly into the second story of the library as well. The library in itself was not exactly a popular spot in Jackson; people mainly visited to borrow DVDs, and there were only a few of those still working in Jackson. Mostly people watch movies in the hall on movie nights. So as far as privacy goes, you’re okay.

The studio used to be where the librarian lived. But since the first librarian passed and Ike took over, no one had used the studio. Ike lived with his wife and grandson down the street from you. He knew about the apartment, of course, but he had agreed to keep your living there a secret. He liked you. He would do anything to help you out. He even recruited his wife Lucy to help you clean the place, even bring you some sheets and towels from the laundromat that she ran.

You only brought your backpack with you when you moved, along with your to go cup, and that was it. That was all you took from the house. Maria gave you a Tupperware container for you to eat from and take food from the hall in. That, and a fork, a spoon and a steak knife. Took you less than five minutes to unpack. Took you, Liv, Diana and Lucy less than 45 minutes to scrub the whole place clean, bathroom, doors, walls, window, ceiling, floor and all, Maria and Ike beating down the mattress and pillows outside.

You laid in bed that first night feeling free. You meant what you said to Maria. You didn’t want Joel and Ellie to know where you were. You doubted they would want to know anyway, but somewhere deep in your heart, you did wonder how long it would take for them to realize you no longer lived there.

**********

Six weeks. Turned out, it took six weeks for someone to realize you were no longer living in the house.

You basically disappeared from their lives altogether. You switched to kitchen duties, staying in the hall kitchen, not going out to the hall to eat at all. You used the back alleys to walk to the hall, and the back alleys again to walk back home. You spent your days chopping and slicing and dicing and stirring, making food for the townsfolk three times a day. You had your meals in the kitchen with Liv and Diana, and sometimes Maria, sneaking to her house whenever you could, since she was just about ready to pop.

Strangely, ever since you moved out, you didn’t feel as lonely as you did living with Ellie and Joel, despite being completely alone in the studio.

Liv told you Joel was at the greenhouse a lot, when he was not on patrol, that is, walking Vanessa there every chance he had. He would walk into the greenhouse, look around and then leave, not talking or even smiling at anyone, not even Vanessa. On those days, Liv would leave work a few minutes later to find him loitering around outside for a bit before going home. He’s not with her, Liv told you, according to Vanessa he had never entertained her advances, in fact, he never even talked to her much unless necessary. She continued cooking him meals, it seemed, and he returned the empty containers the next time he saw her. But no, they were not together.

Why she thought you’d want to know this, you could never figure out.

About a month after moving out, Bonnie, the oldest person in town had a birthday. They asked the kitchen to make her a birthday cake. You helped carry the massive birthday cake out, half the town’s population gathering at the hall to celebrate the feisty old lady. As you stood with Diana singing happy birthday to her, you saw Joel enter the hall. He was with Esther, the young lady looking as if she had just won the jackpot, her arm wrapped around his as he held the door open for her. She had been very vocal about ‘sampling’ Joel, wanting to be the first woman in Jackson to do so. He seemed to be the only man uninterested in her, so this must be a huge victory for her.

You thought you had moved past this. But your heart dropped to your stomach.

He saw you. He immediately pulled his arm away from her clutch and walked towards you. You told Diana you had to leave and walked into the kitchen, grabbing your jacket off the hook and went out the back door. You hid in the supply shed behind the kitchen, the door locked behind you, hearing Joel come out and call your name as he searched for you in the darkness, trying the thankfully locked shed door before leaving through the alley, presumably to go back to Esther.

You stayed in the shed for about 20 minutes, composing yourself, not at all happy you still felt this way after leaving his household for a whole month.

Why did he even come after you? What could he possibly want? What would he have to say that was so important? He spent months on the road not talking to you, a month living with you without saying anything that was not necessary, effectively ignoring your presence, and now he was following you into back alleys? A whole month had gone by since you left the house by then, and he hadn’t asked anyone your whereabouts. Maria would’ve known if he did. You wondered if he had even noticed you no longer lived there. A whole month, a month he spent walking Vanessa to work and loitering around waiting for her, eating her home made meals and letting her and Esther take his arm, opening doors for them.

You came out of hiding, your heart weighing your feet down. You walked out into the streets to go home, no longer in the mood for a party, knowing Joel would be there with one of his women hanging on to him. You looked left and right, making sure he was not around, before walking quickly past the clinic to go to the back alley to go home.

“Elena, there you are. Long time no see!” Tommy’s voice rang out. Maria was with him, her face immediately morphing into concern when she saw yours.

“You going home already? Come on, stay, we have cake!” Tommy said, “It’s a big night. Bonnie’s turning 80, Joel’s finally going on a date,” he started again, looking excited at the prospect.

“Joel’s on a date?” Maria asked him.

“Yeah, with Esther. Didn’t I pick a good one?”

“You set him up with Esther?” Maria asked, her voice rising.

“Well, yeah, why? They’re both single, why not?”

Maria let go of his hand and took yours instead, leading you towards her house, leaving a very confused Tommy on the street. Liv and Diana came running to join the two of you, flanking you and Maria, Liv’s hand rubbing your back comfortingly.

“Really, I’m okay, guys. He can do whatever he wants. He’s single, she’s single, let them be happy,” you assured your friends as the four of you sat on Maria’s couch.

“Joel never came back to the hall, after he went after you,” Liv said. Diana nodded, agreeing with her. “Esther was looking all over for him. She did not look happy.”

“It was their first date, apparently. She was complaining that he didn’t even shower after his patrol. Didn’t even pick her up. Just waited for her at the stable. Muddy boots and all.”

“Come on guys, if he feels ready to date, if it makes him happy, good for him. I’ll be okay. Just need a little more time.”

You believed that, too. Your heart was heavy, but your eyes were dry. In fact, you hadn’t shed one tear for him since you left the house. You truly believed that once you had more time to adjust, you would be okay, and maybe, just maybe, seeing Joel with someone else wouldn’t hurt so badly one day.

“I can’t believe Tommy set them up. After everything he told me, he encouraged the man to go out on a date? Stupid man.”

You laughed, “It’s okay, Maria, he just wants his brother happy. Let him do what he thinks is right.”

“It’s not right, Elena. Joel is not interested to date. I wonder what Tommy said to him to force him into doing this. Like Liv said, the man didn’t even bother to dress up. He clearly didn’t want to go on this date.”

“Maybe Tommy was just trying to get his brother laid. He’s just a man, you know, he has needs,” you said, your eyes focusing on your feet.

“You don’t believe that do you? Joel doesn’t seem like that kind of a man,” Diana asked you.

You shrugged, too tired from cooking for the celebration to care anymore at this point. You got up, telling them you wanted to go home. You were tired. You and Diana needed to wake up extra early the next day to clean up before starting breakfast. Diana got up with you, handing you the bag containing your Tupperware for your dinner. You made to go out the back door, not wanting to see your former house across the street, when Tommy walked in, asking Maria why she left, a bewildered look on his face. You, Liv and Diana hugged Maria and left quietly.

Maria looked at her husband with such anger he shrunk back. What had he done, now?

“You set Joel up on a date? With Esther, of all people? Are you fucking kidding me? Did he even want a date? Did he ask you to set him up?”

“Well, no, but… I figured… so long as Joel was not dating anyone, Elena wouldn’t have a chance at dating. The men are scared of Joel, and they think he’s with her.”

“What about everything you told me, Tommy?”

“He said no. He said he’ll never date her. She deserves to be happy, Maria,” he coaxed, taking a step closer to his wife. She took a step back.

“And you think setting him up with the town hussy whose goal is to sample every man in town is the answer?”

“Well…”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future,” she told him, turning around to make her way upstairs.

“Baby…”

“Say one more word Thomas Miller, and the couch will be downgraded to the porch.”

**********

Ellie walked to the greenhouse, her legs taking her there on their own volition. She wondered if this was what the infected felt like once they turned, having no control over their own bodies.

Once she got there, she walked right in, looking around the vast, tented area, looking around for a familiar face. She didn’t find it. Her legs just turned around, taking her home instead. Her head was foggy, her heart clenching and squeezing the breath out of her chest.

When she got home, she stood in the doorway, her mind taking in the silence throughout the house. You were not down here. Her legs took her upstairs, and she stood in front of your door, her knuckle raised to knock. But suddenly, she drew back.

Would you even want to listen to her? What she said to you… they were unforgiveable.

At first, Ellie thought she had won. You finally left her alone. She stayed out of the house until midnight at one point, when she knew Joel was on night patrol, and you didn’t come after her. She repeated it the next time Joel was on night patrol, and still you didn’t come after her. She was elated. On top of the world. Finally, she could live a free life, free of FEDRA’s control, free of your overly watchful eyes and incessant nagging. Joel was far too busy and distracted to give her his full attention, but you, you were always on her back, and she was tired of it.

For the first time in her life, she had friends. Plural. She only had Riley before, but here, she had an entire group of teenagers to hang out with, and they were a lot more fun to spend time with than you or Joel. Don’t do this, don’t do that, as if she was a child who needed protection. She’d killed countless infected and even a couple of men, she could take care of herself. She’s not some fragile thing you needed to bubble wrap and treat like glass. She’s nearly 15 for God’s sake.

You humiliated her. None of her friends' parents sent her to school with a packed lunch. They teased her when she took out the sandwich you packed for her that first day of school. None of them even ate their meals at the hall with their parents. None of their parents or guardians came looking for them at the hideout after hours. She just wanted to belong. And you were ruining it with your curfews and packed sandwiches and the endless nagging.

She had lied to her friends, telling them that she was bitten by a rabid dog, and it got infected. They kept telling her that it looked like an infected bite, talked her into covering it up with a tattoo, just so one of them could practice her skills. She agreed, of course, not wanting to seem like a prude. They had all gotten so excited, telling her how cool she was for agreeing to get the tattoo.

And then you caught her.

She knew you were right, of course, she knew what could have happened if someone didn't buy her rabid dog story and told, she knew what could have happened if Joel found out - he would go ballistic. She knew you were just looking out for her, just the way you were looking out for her in Salt Lake City. But she didn’t want to admit she was wrong. She was too prideful for that. So she said everything she said, her words pouring out of her mouth like piping hot water from a burst pipe.

As soon as she walked away from the house, she knew she had gone too far. She could see how hurt you were. She had hurt you. Indelibly so. She could see your face shut down. But she didn’t care. You needed to be put in your place. Who did you think you were? Her mother?

When she got back to the hideout, her friends cheered her for her bravery, for walking out on you. She bragged about the things she said to you, embellishing as she went along. Wow, you are so cool, they had said. She could see Dina look at her in awe. Her chest puffed up with pride upon seeing how impressed she was with her.

She was very much taken by Dina. She was beautiful, exotically so. Kind, funny, smart. Ellie really liked her. And she thought Dina liked her too. She spent many a nights dreaming of Dina, thinking up ways to impress her more than she already did.

But today…

Today, she walked into the hideout to see Dina and Jessie kissing. The two so engrossed with each other they didn’t even realize she had come in.

She was broken hearted.

And all she could think of was to find you and bury herself in one of your very comforting hugs, to hear your gentle voice tell her everything would be alright. She knew you wouldn’t judge her. You would never. You cared about her.

But… after everything she had said to you, did you still care about her?

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and knocked on your door.

No answer. She knocked again.

No answer.

She turned the knob, only to be met with an empty room. She walked inside to check the bathroom. Empty.

Oh, you were not home.

She reached out for the knob again to shut the door, and that’s when she saw them.

Dust prints. On the dark floor. Her dust prints.

No one had been in this room for a while. That didn’t make any sense. You were a neat freak. Even when camping, you would sweep the camp before setting up. You were always cleaning when you were home. And no one had swept or mopped this floor, nor stepped on it in a while, judging from how much dust was on it. She went to your closet and opened it – empty.

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen you around town either. At all.

She thought long and hard of the last time she saw you.

No… it couldn’t be. It couldn’t have been that day she yelled at you, right? Her entire body suddenly went cold. Had you left Jackson? You were contemplating it, did you actually do it? Did you leave and not say goodbye?

She raced across the road, her heart thundering as she banged on Maria’s door. She stormed inside when Maria opened the door, asking her if she knew where you were, telling her all your stuff was gone.

“Well, it only took you six weeks to notice. Congratulations!” Maria said, her face stoic.

“Where is she, Maria? Did she leave?”

“Why do you want to know? You want to yell at her some more? Why are you even looking for her? I thought she was… what was it you called her? Oh, right, ‘a fly nobody wants’?”

Ellie looked at her own feet, her hands playing with her jacket, not daring to look at Maria.

“I didn’t mean it, okay. I was angry, she’s so annoying! Always on my business.”

“Yeah, that’s called caring about you, Ellie. That’s what people do when they care about you. They worry for you, nag you, try to keep you out of trouble.”

“I’m not a child, Maria, I don’t need her nagging me.”

She took a deep breath, “Look, I know I screwed up, okay, but I didn’t mean it. I never thought she would leave, she promised me she wouldn’t leave,” she said, her eyes beginning to water.

“Words hurt, Ellie. They don’t leave a mark, but they can be deadlier than a gun.”

“I didn’t know that, okay?”

“Bullshit! You knew exactly what you were doing. You were mean, Ellie, cruel.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m just a kid,” Ellie retorted, her tears starting to flow down her cheeks, startled that Maria would say these things to her face.

“Are you? I thought the whole reason you hated her was because she was treating you like one, and you were not one. Which is it, Ellie? Are you a kid, or an adult? You don’t get to decide to your convenience. Even adults have a limit, Ellie. She cared about you, and you threw it in her face.”

Ellie started sobbing.

“I cannot tell you where she is, Ellie. I made a promise. I keep my promises. You made your bed, now lie in it. Let this be a lesson for you. Hope you enjoy your freedom, the one you were always looking for, without Elena in your life,” Maria said, her heart heavy. She hadn’t wanted to do this, but this girl needed this. She needed to be shaken awake. She opened her door and waited for the sobbing teenager to leave, shutting it behind her when she did, hoping to God that she learnt her lesson.

**********

You left the dining hall after your shift, taking your usual route, the Tupperware full of food in your pack, your to-go cup in your hand. You looked around a bit more than you usually did as you walked across the threshold of the clinic, the only area you had to use the main street for to get home. You didn’t know why, but these last few days, you felt as if you were being watched. You didn’t even turn the lights on at home anymore, worried that you were being followed.

You turned the corner after the clinic and made your way behind the row of shops, headed home. No one was behind you, so you relaxed a little. You turned the corner behind the grocery store leading to the spiral staircase to your studio.

You stopped.

Ellie was standing against the library building, her hands in her pockets, a guilty look on her face, looking at you with pleading eyes.

Without saying a word, you pulled your key out of your pocket, walked past her, climbed up the stairs to your studio, unlocked the door and went inside, closing the door behind you, locking it.

---

Part 6

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #Jackson!Joel

78 notes · View notes

j0kers-light · 7 months ago

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That unfortunately made you a target.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever that meant.

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

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

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

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.

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

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

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

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were chained to something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the only reassurance you had.

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

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit up.”

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

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

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

“Lemme help you.”

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

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

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

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.

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

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

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

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.

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

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.

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

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

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that was out of Joker’s control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are ya gonna behave doll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.

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

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

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

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

Never did he imagine he would return to this.

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

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

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

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

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All hope was not lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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