#which will inevitably go badly for them

[asthedeathoflight]

I have too many wips already but hmm... Rembrandt time loop au....

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[arolesbianism]

Shakes and cries I wanna make Jackie parent hc designs but I can't because potentially one of them is a prevalent character now and her ass has not spoken a single line yet so I both know nothing and can't just start making shit up yet </3333

[c0rpsedemon]

.

[sailoreuterpe]

My rural town FB has had several recent posts about people finding two cats and asking if they have owners. Eventually, the owners responded with passive-aggressive bitching that people kept "picking up" their cats and how the cats have a huge, lovely garage to live in, stove and snacks and everything!

Then keep the fucking cats in the fucking garage.

I can think of a really easy solution to this problem.

[harleybarbarahandler]

and if I said margot and cillian look hot together?

[corvus-frugilegus]

The real tragedy of the Dellamortes is how inevitable Illario's betrayal was.

Caterina's refusal to really see either of her grandsons for who they are sets all three of them on this path. Lucanis's mother was Caterina's favourite, she was probably the person Caterina had in mind to succeed her. That loss, the loss of so much of Caterina's legacy had to have been devastating. She'd built so much and it was all torn away in a single conflict. All she has left in the wake of it is two young boys and this tenacity that will not allow her to give up on what she's built.

So she puts it all on Lucanis. The son of her favourite (bonus angst if he looks like his mother). She's unable to see this sweet boy who loves wyverns and just had his life ripped apart for who he is. She just see's her legacy. The daughter she lost. She puts it all into him, he's pushed into the role of favourite.

Lucanis responds to this by shoving down the parts of himself she doesn't want to see- his gentle heart, his love of wyverns, the little boy who needs to be loved. If he's good enough, strong enough, the perfect crow, the perfect granson- then and only then will she love him, will he be safe.

And then you have Illario! There isn't as much to go on in the text about his family or what he was like as a boy but there's a few things we can pretty confidently infer. Like Lucanis, Illario violently loses everything he has at a very young age. All he has left are the other two Dellamorte's.

But he isn't the child of Caterina's favourite. She isn't automatically putting all of her legacy on his shoulders the way she does Lucanis. He still gets the training, and what we do see in the wigmaker job and the wake and even in the codex entires in the game is that Illario does become a comptent and capable crow. He has a level of skill that I suspect is broadly expected of house Dellamorte, he was trained by the first talon herself. But the Illario we meet as an adult has this laissez-faire affect and presents himself as a seducer and a bit of a peakcock. He also very overtly refers to himself as Dellamorte-the-lesser and at the end of the wigmaker job when they're discussing the title of first talon you can feel the resentment below the surface.

For Illario it's not about the power and the prestige that comes from the title of first talon. It's not even about having the title itself. It's about FINALLY earning Caterina's love and respect. Things he undoubtly never felt as a boy.

How could he? When he's a child the only two people he has left in the world have this special bond that he never gets to be a part of. His only caretaker has a clear favourite and she shows it. He's lived his whole life in Lucanis's shadow, and a shadow that Lucanis never wanted to cast! Which if anything just adds insult to injury for Illario.

Lucanis has everything Illario wants and he doesn't even want it.

I imagine as a boy Illario tries SO HARD to win her love, her favour, he'll do anything to feel like he's loved and wanted and valued. And when after YEARS it doesn't work even though Lucanis clearly doesn't want the role he's been forced into? Illario gets resentful, he gets angry, he starts acting up. He becomes the suave peacock, the grandson who fucks up sometimes- probably not because he's bad at being a crow but because at least Caterina's ire is attention. It's a scrap of love.

Illario and Lucanis love each other. They're brothers. Illario resents Lucanis for being loved and favoured. Lucanis wants nothing more than to give it all to Illario. Illario doesn't want that he wants Caterina to love him on his own merit. At the same time (pre-inner demons) Lucanis will never actually give the title up because it means he's loved, he's valued, he matters.

The title of first talon has been synonymous with emotional safety and love for these two for their entire lives, and it's twisted them up so badly.

The real irony of it all is that this whole time Illario is so much more like the person Caterina wants Lucanis to be. Her heir, the Dellamorte best suited to be the next first talon has been right there infront of her all along, but she's so caught up in grief and legacy she misses it. She never really see's either of her grandsons for who they are.

I actually suspect that when it all comes to light, even though she's furious with him, Caterina finally starts to see what she's been overlooking in Illario all along. And Lucanis who's started to heal... well I think she's starting to see him too, and the truth of who he is is something she'll struggle to face.

When the day finally comes that Lucanis tells her he doesn't want the job, when him and Illario both accept that their lives have meaning outside of Caterina's opinion of them, is the day that the Dellamorte's can maybe start to really see each other.

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time ever writing here, i'm still new.

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[angstandhappiness]

Interesting

Hell's royalty has a culture that enables Stella's abusive behavior.

Point 1: Keeping up appearances is valued above all else. And I specifically mean the appearance of things being the way they're supposed to be. Conformity basically.

Conformity in this culture seems to include a kind of stoic dignity ("you know excitement is unbecoming of a goetia"), an air of superiority ("don't bow to that one- he bows to us!"), and, of course, some good old fashioned toxic masculinity ("cease this bitch crying").

Individuals at the very top are not immune. Even though he gets past it, Asmodeus seems to spend a lot of time and effort on keeping his relationship with Fizz quiet in order to keep up the appearance of fulfilling his "lust" role.

Point 2: The members of the aristocracy who don't conform are seen as the problem, not the members who are being cruel.

Speaking of Ozzie, there's a chance he'll face real consequences for getting out of line . . . Mammon seems pretty confident about getting revenge. Also, if Ozzie had decided that his reputation was important enough to avoid stepping in to help his partner, well . . . I'm just saying. Cultures of conformity create bystanders who stand by and let abuse happen. So it's good that this guy has the courage (and a good heap of privilege and power) to enable him to step out. Yes, I realize that the crowd at Mammon's celebrated Ozzie and Fizz, but the crowd was distinctly NOT aristocratic.

Now look at Stella's party- this woman is not subtle about being cruel to her husband.

She calls the party a "Not Divorced" party. She openly talks negatively about Stolas in a blatant attempt to humiliate him. She's not trying to hide that she hates the man.

Because he's . . . an oddball. Gentle, not as polished as others in his social sphere, awkward and mostly friendless, probably autistic. And importantly, I think, not traditionally masculine.

So Stella has no need to hide that she treats him poorly. She's proud of it. And her social circle seems to support her in it, or at least, they don't push back. Because based on the aristocracy's unspoken (or if we look at Paimon, very much spoken) value system, Stolas's failure to fulfill all of his expected roles gracefully is worse than Stella's cruelty.

Point 3: Stolas's parenting, while much better than his own father's, still reflects this value system in some ways, and that's . . . complicated.

In some ways, Octavia is doing great. She has her own interests (music! gothy fashion!) that don't seem to be based on any role prescribed to her by others. She has a genuine bond with her dad that's based on care and not on molding her into some ideal princess.

But Stolas still puts on an facade in front of Via. We know that he pretended things were fine when they distinctly weren't for most of her childhood. We could argue endlessly about whether Stolas was right (as Georgia Dow explained in her video) or wrong to stop himself from explaining the situation with Stella to Via in Loo Loo Land, but honestly, the man could let his nearly grown up daughter know that abuse was happening without all out trauma dumping. It would enable her to make more informed decisions, and I think she would want to be able to do that.

Instead, Stolas keeps it to himself. Because he feels like Via SHOULD have this picture perfect childhood. Look at the pictures that are up in his palace. Look at his attempt to gloss over the fighting in the household by taking Via to an idealized childhood destination.

A part of him still thinks that good parenting is keeping up appearances, and that the ugly things are best kept hidden. Look at how hard he still tries to avoid crying in front of people. The values he was taught as a child are part of him.

And while it's not his fault (it's Stella's fault, obviously- these are HER actions), his inability to be open allows Stella and Andrealphus to scheme and (we'll see . . .) probably manipulate Via because of her lack of knowledge.

We're meant to see the moments where Stolas breaks expectations and behaves raw and even a little unhinged as triumphant. Sleeping with Blitz. That is the sound of a fucking divorce. Actually going through with the fucking divorce. Insisting on it. Appearances be damned.

And yeah, more of that please. Because if the people around Stella stop caring about aristocratic social trappings, all she'll have going for her is her shitty personality.

Thanks @akirathedramaqueen for inspiring this post with a conversation.

[redflagshipwriter]

Ghost Driver 2

masterpost

Batman, Danny reflected, was an irritatingly hard guy to find. Which was just plain silly! The dude had been in his apartment. He had seen the guy out in public by chance! It had been impossible for him to avoid Batman in a city of millions when that had been his number two goal! 

And yet every time Danny made it to a house fire or gunshot sound or the signal on top of the police station, the fucker was already gone. 

‘Can’t say shit about his work ethic,’ Danny had to admit. ‘He really keeps it moving. Why isn’t he having a break? He arrested Joker today and apparently met up with his estranged kid.’

He stopped in his tracks as that finally clicked into place. 

Jay was Batman’s kid. His estranged batling. 

“Weird,” Danny said, appreciative. Jay truly was a catch. He had a backstory! It was probably tragic, judging by the way that he was. 

Oh. He could probably like, fight and stuff. Danny mulled that over as he half heartedly drove towards the police station. Had Danny ever really dated someone who could fight? It would be nice to not be the protector. When one of them inevitably got kidnapped by a villain, Danny wanted to be it. He didn’t want to solve riddles or discover new powers. 

He indulged in a power fantasy for a while of being able to say, “oh no, save me!” and then just hanging around looking sexy and scared and shit. A goofy grin stole across his face. Teehee. He giggled. If he wasn’t trying to confirm proof of life he would be kicking his feet and blushing over the idea. 

Not that death would be, like, that much of a barrier. Jay was not going to peacefully move on to the other side. Jay was gonna be an undead motherfucker, Danny was calling it now. He had the spirit. 

He parked in a locked parking garage by going intangible through the wall and went fully ghost to fly the last stretch towards the police station. It was a little bit ridiculous to stake out for Batman, but this was the low he was resorting to. Ugh. Strategy. He had a strategy. Despicable. He had to, right? He had to.

‘If I do this, then he’s probably going to report the sighting to the GIW. I might have to transfer.’

Danny wallowed a bit in self pity about having a problem he couldn’t argue or punch his way out of. He stuck his hands in his armpits and sulked, hovering in the air above the main police station. Someone was hanging out on the roof. He squinted at them optimistically, but they were just smoking. He morosely did a few flips. The smoker went back inside, shutting the door with a sort of deliberate silence that implied they were not allowed to smoke on the roof.

Long minutes stretched out. Absolutely nothing happened.

While he was wallowing alone, he remembered to send his mom a thank you text and let her know Wulf had arrived safely. 

A car! Someone was pulling up to the police station!

Danny perked up before he remembered that Batman would not be coming to the station by car, and almost certainly not in a mauve minivan. 

The sun started to rise and Danny had to admit that it was not going to work out. He let out a little screech of frustration, hands in his hair. How was someone supposed to get a hold of Batman? He didn’t have a publicly listed phone number, Facecard, or… did he have a twooter account? Danny went to check.

He did. Batman had a verified twooter account. Danny stared at his screen for a minute, mouth slightly ajar. 

“I wasted so much time,” he realized. Then he switched to the account that Tucker had made for Phantom, took a selfie of himself floating over the police station, and tagged Batman in it. He pursed his lips and considered what to say for a minute. 

“I just wanna talk. HMU dude.” 

That was perfect. He hit send twoot. 

His mentions exploded before he could get his phone into his pocket. Danny startled so badly that he dropped it onto the police station rooftop. He shrieked and dive bombed like a seagull, desperately trying to snatch his phone out of midair. 

He saved it at the last moment, pulling up sharply to avoid dipping inside the police station. That would be awkward. Danny huffed a sigh of relief and glanced at the current landing notification.

‘This guy for real??’

Yeah, obviously, Danny responded. He looked at the next twoot that caught his eye.

‘Lmao this fucker thinks he can get an appointment with the batMAN’

Danny rolled his eyes and responded,

Get good, loser. He wants to see me. 

That did set off a flurry of speculation that he was fucking the Batman. Hmm. Danny frowned at his phone. Maybe he should talk less. 

Instead of doing that, Danny hunched over and started committing twooter violence, responding to people on indignant impulse. 

Someone cleared their throat. 

“A minute,” Danny said distractedly. He was holding his phone nearly up to his face and typing furiously about how @acovadobinch147 could get on his level if they only changed everything about their sour ass attitude. 

“Is this really the time?” A man’s voice asked.

Danny startled, elbows flying up. He kept his grip on his phone this time. He looked down. 

There was a cop on the roof. A cop with a seriously unimpressed expression, under eye bags big enough to have to check at luggage, and a death grip on a paper cup of coffee. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said reflexively. He hid his hands behind his back. No. That’s suspicious. He took them out and put them in his pockets. Nailed it. 

“Ahuh.” The man took a sip of what looked like black coffee. “You might be loitering, son.” 

“The property line doesn’t include airspace,” he said promptly. 

The cop’s mouth twitched up slightly. It was hard to see under his mustache. “Might be. Aside from that, would you happen to know anything about the disappearance of the Joker from his cell?”

Danny blinked at him. “You know about that already?” He wondered. He shoved his hands further in his pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, he was really creepy and shit. I sent him to the Infinite Realms.” At the blank stare that garnered, he added, “the ghost zone? The lands of the dead. The unending stretch-“ 

“I got it, son.” The cop looked shell shocked. He stood perfectly still for a moment. Then he drained his entire coffee cup, crushed the paper cup and stuffed it in his pocket, and started digging in his vest pocket. “Don’t tell,” he said vaguely, and extracted a cigarette. 

Danny drifted a little further away. “Keep that downwind,” he warned. “My dad would lose his mind if I came home smelling like tobacco.” The odds of Jack Fenton showing up unexpectedly for bonding time were low, but they were never zero.

The cop snorted. “Sure thing.” He shuffled to the side a few steps and lit up. “So, uh, you want to meet the Batman to tell him you… to tell him what you did to the joker? He won’t thank you for it,” he warned. 

“No.” Danny blew a raspberry. “I don’t care about his opinion. I wanna know where my boyfriend is. Almost boyfriend. Well, we really just met, but I wanna see where it’s going, you know?” 

“…and you think that Batman knows?” 

Danny nodded furiously. “He was the last one who saw him, aside from Joker, and the unfunny dude didn’t know jack shit,” he complained. He bobbed in the air as he crossed his arms. “He was such a weirdo creep! He was making, like, innuendo about spanking? And I’m pretty sure he claimed he predated on Jay? And that’s obviously not cool and shit, so I couldn’t leave him there to be a bother,” Danny explained. He shrugged. “He’s kind of my jurisdiction anyway,” Danny justified. “Joker has major death experiences vibes.” He wiggled his fingers to illustrate this. “Was he ever declared dead? He acted like he was.” 

“Jurisdiction,” the cop repeated. “Son, are you… do you have some kind of foreign license as law enforcement?” 

Danny thought about it. “Technically,” he admitted. Embarrassing. “…two roles, technically.” Ew. He shuddered. “Walker gave me the rodeo yeehaw cop gold star thing after the last big prison break so I could help, and also teeeechnically I’m meant to enforce infinite realms laws.” He grimaced. “Because.” He ground a foot into the air as if it was the dirt. “Ugh, this is embarrassing.” 

“I don’t need to know the details,” the cop said. That was so unhinged Danny stopped to stare at him. “The Joker was taken into custody by another law enforcement agency, details are classified. Does the Joker still exist?” He was holding his temple.

“Yeahhhhh,” Danny drew out the word. He scrunched his eyebrows together. “If that’s what you want, we can just keep him, I guess. He can be a denizen of the Infinite Realms. Like me,” he added, because he didn’t want people looking for human him. This was a great alibi. The cops would tell the GIW that Phantom lived in the Infinite Realms now, and they would never catch him. He was going to live forever.

The cop took a long drag on his cigarette. “You’re deceased, correct?” 

“You’re blunt,” Danny muttered. “Yeah, uh, I’m a ghost. Wooooo.” He made scary fingers. 

“And your boyfriend?” 

“Not deceased,” Danny said slowly. Although something about what Joker had said was sticking in his mind. “At least, not as of this afternoon. He’s like, this tall. Square jaw, big hands, very white teeth, has a red helmet drag persona-“

He cut himself off as he remembered things. “He’s very unobtrusive is what I was saying,” Danny lied hastily. He gave a nervous laugh. “He, uh, rides bicycles, not motorcycles because that’s a cool guy thing, regular motor-bicycles regular bicycles and he has a red human safety hat for it. Ummmm.” He looked away shiftily and snapped his runaway mouth shut. “Yeah.” He looked back and frowned in concern. The cop looked awful. “Hey, are you okay? Do you have a headache?” 

“Nope.”  The cop didn’t stop massaging at his head. “Name?” 

“Jay,” Danny said. He wasn’t gonna give him a full name.

The cop sighed. He sounded like he was in serious pain. “Your name.” 

Oh, okay. “Phantom.” He did a midair flip.

The cop nodded heavily. “Thank you. Is there anyone I can verify your credentials as Infinite Realms law enforcement with?” 

Danny groaned and buried his face in his hands. Like who, his Dad? Some wizard? Ember? “Do you really have to?” He asked pitifully. “They’re all so embarrassing.”  The cop raised an eyebrow. Danny folded. “Literally anyone who can contact the Infinite Realms,” he muttered sulkily. “I’m kind of a big deal there. I, like, arrested the last king. There’s, uh, a few human magicians you could confirm with. Some ecto biologists in Illinois that you can look up. Any ghost you know, really.” 

So mortifying. He was cop adjacent. He felt queasy.

The cop closed his eyes. “Does that put you in the government in any way?” 

“…You’re smart,” Danny said, surprised at that deductive leap. “Yeah, I’m like, the next king or whatever. When I’m old and dead enough.”

“Fantastic. I’ll leave you my number and I’d like a way to contact you. I want paperwork on the Joker’s new placement tomorrow, I can’t be party to kidnapping.” 

…What was happening?

“Okay,” Danny said in a very high pitch. He, uh, was probably going to have to rescue him from Skulker and actually put him in Walker’s prison. He should have listened to Mom. He fidgeted. “Is there anything else?” He laced his fingers behind his back, feeling a little bit like he was in trouble at school.

“Yeah.” The cop dropped his cigarette and ground it out underneath his boot. “The Red Hood was wounded tonight, but survived. He left of his own accord, alone. I expect he’ll be passed out in some safe house.” 

“…so I should just like, wait?” Danny frowned. “I don’t like it.” 

‘I do have a clue. Jason Wayne. That’s enough to track him down, right? He’s gotta have a dead grandma or someone haunting him. I find his home, I find a family ghost, and they tell me where he is. Boom.’

“You’ll like it less if the Batman shows up to have a chat,” the cop said frankly. “This was a professional courtesy.” He frowned sternly. Danny veered back at the very scary face. “Do I make myself clear, son?” 

“Crystal.”  Danny shot off a salute. “I’ll, uh, go now.” 

“You had better.” The cop’s tone sounded awfully final.

Jeeze. Danny went invisible and left at high speed. He could take a hint. 

[arolesbianism]

Oh yeah here’s my current progress for an extremely rough concept for the stalien planet map, ignore how fucked it’d look projected on a sphere (I checked btw it sure is a thing)

[unacknowledgeable]

SK!Reader x Yan!Batfam: Not in the plan

I have thoughts about the batfam going yandere before finding out about Reader being a serial killer.

Because if the fam go yandere before finding out, this gives them time to formulate their own perceptions of the reader, based on their limited knowledge of them and a lot of wistful thinking, so there's now an illusion built that can be shattered. 

It’d definitely be a slower roll into being yanderes, because they view the Reader as a full civilian and obviously don’t want to scare them off. They only really have the media's view of the Reader, and Alfred's view to make assumptions off of, which both are pretty biased tbh.

 They end up forming this version of Reader that is quiet but charming, social but reserved, irritable but kind, meek but shrewd, etc etc.

So they start off slowly, with little things, like Tim bumping into them on the street then offering to buy coffee, running into Steph while buying groceries, Jason waving at them from across a clubs dance floor, Bruce cutting in during their chat with Gordon at a Gala, getting “leftovers” from Barbara whenever she brings her dad lunch at the station, being asked for your math notes by Duke, Cass having Alfred give you tickets to her dance recitals, Damian entering rooms you’re in without making a snide comment, Dick inviting you to family game night–

The list of tiny ways they try to insert themselves is endless and every new acknowledgement from the family leaves the Reader fucking terrified.

Reader stares, bug eyed, at Tim for his offer, falls into a shelf at Steph's excited hello, downs a shot before running to the the club's bathroom to climb out the window when Jason tries to approach your seat at the bar, tripping a waiter to distract Bruce while you ditched the Gala, nearly back handing Barbara because you were listening to music and you didn't hear her come in, asking Duke ‘what math notes?’ ...while studying said notes, saying ‘no, you couldn't make the recital because you had to water a friends dog that day’ before quickly leaving the kitchen, throwing a book at Damian when he moved to close because the only times he’s ever been this quiet around you is when you're inevitably stabbed, or flinching so hard when Dick reaches out a hand to clap your shoulder, he thinks he somehow actually hurt you and the look of fear in your eyes gives off such a startling sense of deja vu, it leaves him despondent for the rest of the week.

 So now the batfam are thinking “Why the fuck are they panicking so much? oh god did we seriously fuck up so badly they're afraid of us?!?!?! DD: Why are they so uneasy??? It can’t just be because they’re estranged from them. Can it??” And now they're getting increasingly desperate to fix this because this wasn't supposed to be so difficult, but now it is and that's making it more intriguing and thus higher on the family’s list of priorities. 

Meanwhile… from the start, the Reader is just-

Because despite outward appearances, Reader is constantly paranoid as fuck. We’re talking Batman levels of paranoia. Hard not to be when he’s literally your dad. You have contingencies for your contingencies, escape routes by the dozen out of the city and out of this mortal plane itself, if needed. You had plans for every conceivable possibility, just not for this. 

You're now met with such a glaringly obvious flaw in how you go about life in general, the way you live and how you operate as a serial killer, it all hinges on the idea of the family never turning their attention your way. It wasn't even an option and now it’s happening and you had no idea how to function because this isn't normal at all. Now you're actually forced to put in more than 25% of brain power to bury any possible leads and dissuade any possible connections to yourself and the silent terror on Gotham, while also trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Safe to say, this cat and mouse game is no longer fun for you.

I'm meltingggg. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I'm going to bed bleh

X-X

Masterlist

[ssahotchnerr]

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."

[jlheon]

𝓒𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 ୨୧ 𝐒𝐉𝐘

(𝓹airing) — sjy x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓷eighbors to lovers ; fluff & hs au (𝔀ordcout) three-thousand one-hundred 𝓹eng's note. america core oops 🦅 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year

꣑୧ 𝓶𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

01. new hair

it’s the first day of the new school year. you’re tired but less than what you’ve been in previous years.

this year, you can finally say goodbye to the early bus rides and even longer rides home.

your neighbor, sim jaeyun, has a car and parking and is willing to bring you to and from. you’ve never been so thankful for the blonde boy.

blonde? more like brunette boy now.

“you dyed your hair back?” you say as you walk up to the driver’s side of the car, he rolls down the window.

“yeah,” jake nodded. “what do you think?”

“it looks good…” you admire his new hair color and cut. “still a little dead though,” you reach through the window to touch his hair. his hair is still soft but there’s a hint of frailness from the rounds of bleach he’s been doing for nearly a year.

“maybe you could use that hair mask you always use on me?” he suggests.

“maybe.”

02. amusement park

this is the first and last time you will ever skip school. especially with sim jaeyun.

it’s his idea to ditch school and drive to the nearest amusement park, two hours away from your town.

“come on ____ie,” jake says as you buckle your seatbelt. “it’s SAT day for the juniors… we won’t be missing anything!”

“still! our parents are going to be called!” you argue.

“if they get mad at you, i’ll deal with them,” jake reassures you, putting a hand on your headrest while reversing out of your driveway. “the tickets are on me.”

“tickets?” you raise an eyebrow.

you and jake spend the whole day until sundown at the amusement park.

once you finally accept the fact you should be more laid back for senior year, you drag him from ride to ride. despite him being scared shitless of roller coasters he goes on them with you since he knows how badly you want to ride them.

the only condition is that he gets to hold your hand if he gets scared. which is inevitably the whole day, which he gets to use the excuse to hold your hand in queues.

he also holds your hand while walking around the park with the excuse of not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

as if there are a bunch of people on a random weekday. the only ‘crowd’ is just the families with children no older than five.

the only thing jake can confidently do is get you a giant plushie at one of the scam-like carnival game stands. which he carries around for the remainder of the day.

you hate to admit it but skipping was a good idea even though when you two return home both sets of your parents are waiting furiously on your front porch.

“it was my idea,” jake takes the blame as you peek out from behind him, holding his hand for comfort.

you both get grounded for a week and are forced to take the bus to and from school. that didn’t matter though because you both had fun that day.

03. sick day

one morning jake is surprised to see that when he pulls into your driveway that you aren’t waiting for him.

you’re so punctual and on time so it makes him worried. but he gives you the benefit of the doubt and sits in his car for ten minutes. maybe you're just running a little late.

when you don’t respond to his texts jake becomes more worried. he caves, gets out of his car, walks up your front steps, and rings the doorbell.

when you come to the door with messy hair and a pale face jake can already sense you’re sick and miserable.

“woah, are you okay?”

“sorry for not texting,” you sneeze. “i’m staying home today.”

“are your parents home?” jake asks, looking around your house behind you.

“no,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“let me in.”

“but school starts in twenty, you’ll be late,” you try to push him out the door, though he’s stronger than you.

“let me take care of you,” he wraps his arms around your waist and carries you upstairs towards your room.

jake spends the day in your room giving you medicine, soup, and under the covers next to you. making sure he’s with you as you rest incase you need anything. not letting you get up at all unless you really must.

your parents come home to you and jake cuddled up on the couch.

to no one's surprise, your parents call jake’s parents and inform them about their son's whereabouts for the day.

jake does not get grounded for skipping that time.

꣑୧ 𝓪𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

01. after school nap

after a long day of test after test, each teacher trying to get one in before winter break, you’re exhausted.

walking up to jake’s car with dark circles and messy braids. ready to go home and crash on your bed to start your week-long break.

the frigid weather has you shivering as you approach the vehicle. your nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“cold outside?” jake asks as you quickly shut the door and sink into the passenger’s seat. his car had been running for a couple of minutes now as he got let out early by his teacher.

“super,” you yawn, snuggling into your jacket.

the car is taken over by a comfortable silence. the only noises being the car engine and the wind outside. keeping his eyes on the road jake asks you a question.

“how were your tests?” he asks while turning the corner.

he gets no response, at the red light he glances over to see you sleeping soundly in the seat next to him.

when arriving at your house jake decides that you look too adorable and comfortable to wake you up just yet. he knows you’ve been studying hard the past week and barely sleeping. ten minutes is what he tells himself, he’ll wake you up in ten minutes.

ten minutes later jake has also fallen asleep.

you both nap in the heated car for god knows how long. then when a continuous taps on the window register in jake’s brain he opens his eyes to see it is already dark out. the digital clock reads three-quarters past five.

your mom is currently knocking on the driver’s side window.

“hi jaeyun,” she greets when he rolls down the window. “i think you two have been sleeping for too long.”

“yeah, i’m so sorry!” he apologizes. “i guess i fell asleep while i was waiting for her to wake up.”

“that’s alright,” your mother smiles at him. “just making sure you weren’t doing anything else in here!”

jake can’t help the heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment at the suggestion you two were doing something other than sleeping.

“how about you join us for dinner tonight!”

“i’d love to,” jake scratches the back of his neck. “i’ll bring her inside.” he looks over at your peaceful expression wondering how you didn’t wake up in the past couple of minutes.

02. passenger princess

“get out,” jake says when sunghoon climbs into the passenger’s seat of his car.

“what do you mean?” sunghoon replies, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “you said you’re taking me home!”

“i am!” the australian boy retorts. “but you have to sit in the back.”

“why!” the younger boy whines, crossing his arms childishly.

“because the front seat is for ____,” jake explains, unlocking the door so sunghoon can exit.

“not fair,” sunghoon groans. “last time i checked she didn’t call shotgun.”

“well, she always sits next to me-” he’s cut off by the back door opening and you setting your backpack on the middle seat. “hey, don’t sit there. sunghoon was just about to move.”

“oh! okay!” you get up, looking at sunghoon innocently.

“fuck you,” the black-haired boy says under his breath. “i’m supposed to be your passenger princess.”

“hi hoon!” you sweetly greet him, he suddenly doesn’t feel too betrayed anymore.

“hey,” he says as he goes to the back seat, switching places with you.

you all buckle into the car and as jake backs out of the parking lot you reach over the console to plug your phone into the charger.

jake never lets me do that without asking! sunghoon thinks to himself.

you start fiddling with the car plane on his screen. selecting yourself as aux and playing your shared playlist with jake.

sunghoon notices that his phone is no longer an option for bluetooth on jake’s car and feels even more offended.

jake hums along to the songs you queue as you sing along while reapplying your lip tint in the pull-down mirror.

jake said he hates this song! sunghoon thinks again, cringing at how down bad his friend is for you.

when the trio arrives at sunghoon’s house he quickly gets out and bids goodbye to you only as you wave through the window as he walks up the steps to his front door.

jake soon receives a text from his best friend.

penghoon 🐧 : that was disgusting GET UPP i am your PASSENGER PRINCESS NOT HER ☹️☹️☹️💔💔💔

03. corsage

the friday before prom on the way home school school, jake can’t shake off the sad pout on your face. he feels as if there’s a small rain cloud thundering above your head that’s making your lips droop.

“what’s the matter?” jake asks gently as he sees your sad state.

“i don’t have a date to prom anymore,” your frown becomes stronger.

“what?” he asks with wide eyes. “did you just find out? prom is tomorrow night?”

“i know,” you slouch into your seat. “her boyfriend surprised her by flying in last night and now i don’t get to have a corsage like everyone else! neither do i have a ride…”

“i’ll pick you up,” jake offers. “i don’t have a date either.”

“thank you,” you say with a slight frown still on your face, though inside your relieved to know jake is going alone.

the next morning jake rushes to find a place that has a corsage just perfect for you and for him to match with.

unfortunately, he doesn’t know your dress color so he brings as many different colored ties with him when he picks you up. picking a white corsage so it can match with any color.

when you answer the door jake feels all the air being knocked from his lungs. you’re breathtaking. literally. he starts coughing and you pull him into your house and pat his back.

“where’s your tie?” you ask when he finally starts breathing normally again.

“i have multiple in my car,” he says bashfully. “i wanted to make sure we matched.”

jake quickly leaves to retrieve the ties and corsage.

when you spot the clear box with the pretty white flower that matches the one on his blazer you’re quick to nearly tackle him.

“oh my god! you got me a corsage!” you squeal hugging is neck tightly.

“anything for my prom date,” pats your head, careful to not mess up the hairstyle he knows you spent a good hour on.

04. third-wheel

“are we waiting for someone?” you ask as jake scrolls on his phone after you two have been sitting in the car for a couple of minutes now.

“yeah,” jake’s eyes drift from his phone to the back exit of the school, finally seeing the tall black-haired boy making his way towards the car. “we’re bringing riki home.”

“hey guys!!” the younger boy grins as he slides into the backseat.

“hi ki!” you smile at him in the rearview mirror. “do you want to come with me and jae to the café downtown? or are you busy?”

“i’m not busy!” riki has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, knowing that jake had told him to not get in the way of your study date.

alas, you’re the one who invited him, so jake cannot protest.

“oh! haha great!” jake says as he grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles turn white. luckily for him, that’s the least of your concerns as you stare at the way his veins have become more prominent. “the more the merrier!”

the three of you sit in a booth in the café. thankfully jake had kicked riki out of your side of the booth while you were in the bathroom. now jake was by your side doing his own homework as you both shared a slice of strawberry shortcake.

riki on the other hand sits at the opposite side of the table with his straw conveniently next to his mouth as he plays games on his phone.

“riki, don’t you have any homework?” you ask him as you look over at the gaming underclassmen.

“i did it in study hall,” he clarifies, eyes still glued to his screen like a giant ipad kid.

“i find that hard to believe,” jake whispers in your ear.

“be nice,” you nudge him, to which he shrugs.

you both go back to doing your work for a while until jake sees that you have one bite's worth of cake left. he knows you’ll argue with him and insist he eats it. so instead he silently picks it up with his fork and turns to you.

“____,” he says as he brings the utensil to your lips, waiting for you to get the whole piece before retracting his hand, “good?” he asks.

you nod your head as you finish chewing the cake. jake notices that some icing got stuck on the corner of your lips and wordlessly brings his thumb to your face to clean you.

you both stare at each other. the way your eyes sparkle when jake makes eye contact with you is mesmerizing. he dares to almost lean in until riki clears his throat.

“um, my mom says i have to be home for dinner soon.”

“oh yeah,” jake says as he awkwardly backs away. “let’s get you home.”

05. driver switch

you’ve been sitting around in jake’s car for about an hour now. you didn’t know he had practice today and he had only gotten to tell you after the buses left.

instead, he had you walk to the soccer field so he could give you his keys so you could wait in the car for him.

his teammates looked at him suspiciously when you approached.

“since when did you have a girlfriend?” heeseung, the soccer captain asks.

“that’s ____,” riki, an underclassman, interrupts, “jake’s neighbor he’s secretly in love with.”

“shut up,” jake shoves his shoulder as you were still walking close by.

“is that why you wouldn’t set me up on a date with her?” sunghoon pops up behind jake, startling him.

“maybe,” jake mumbles, taking the ball and kicking it along.

once practice is over jake walks to the parking lot with sunghoon and jay. he spots you from afar sitting in his car while reading a book.

he says goodbye to his friends who are quick to tease him and walks over to the car. knocking on the window so you let him open it.

“hi! how was practice?”

“tiring,” jake sighs, placing his bag in the back seat.

“seems like it,” you comment, “i’ll drive us home!”

“nah, it’s fine.”

“please! i never get to drive because i don’t have my own car,” you whine, “you’re clearly tired anyways.”

“it’s my car,” jake argues.

“but i have the keys!” you pout.

“just this once,” jake says while you both switch seats.

06. the date

after your almost kiss at the café, jake musters up the courage to bring you on a real date. the near kiss did everything to confirm that the pining he had been doing for you since the beginning of high school was mutual.

waiting for him to pick you up was seriously nerve-wracking. you kept telling yourself that this wasn’t new at all, which is true, and that it was just jake.

but that was exactly the problem.

you haven’t seen jake since he confessed to you and asked you out on a real date.

that was three days ago, the last day of school when he dropped you home after getting celebratory ice cream.

you’ve been in jake’s car with him more than a hundred times but today was different. you weren’t just driving to school or around town, you were going on a date with him.

at that fancy place, you both discussed going to back when you were just friends. scrolling through the menu on the website for a hypothetical meal turned into reality now.

“you look beautiful,” jake says when you walk downstairs.

of course, he went inside to talk to your parents beforehand. jake was nothing but a gentleman. he reaches for your hand and twirls you around once your feet touch the floor. he admires your dress with lovesick eyes and you think you might as well be dreaming right now.

you bid goodbye to your parents and walk hand in hand down to his car. jake reached to open the passenger door for you and made sure you were inside before closing it.

you fiddle with your necklace as jake starts the car, which he catches onto the awkward atmosphere quickly.

“are you nervous?” jake glances over at you.

“kinda- a lot actually,” you chuckle awkwardly. “it’s just kinda weird being in your car for the first time after we told each other we liked each other.”

“i get it,” jake nods his head before reaching over the console to take your shaking hand into his. “it’s just me.”

“that’s the thing,” you say. “of course i’m nervous jae, i like you, and now you know.”

“i like you too though and i’m also nervous,” he squeezes your hand. “this shouldn’t be any different from when we hang out! just don’t overthink it.”

“okay,” you feel yourself getting flustered, interlacing your fingers with his as he starts driving.

“at least we already know what we want to order!” jake laughs, recalling your late-night menu scrolling two weeks ago before either of you knew about the reciprocated feelings. “one less thing to be worried about.”

you finally let out a genuine laugh.

that night when jake walks you back to your door he does what riki interrupted you from doing. kissing you softly under the dim light provided by your porch light.

when you both finally pull away to see jake cutely pouting at the fact your night together is coming to a close.

“what’s wrong, yun?” you giggle, resting your hands on his chest.

“i don’t want to go home yet,” he says with a pout on his face. bringing you closer so your head rests on his chest as he holds you.

“maybe you can come inside?” you look up at him with hopeful eyes.

at the end of the night, you end up in your boyfriend’s arms.

[lessi-lover]

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

this is the longest i've ever written and i'm so proud thank you all for sending ideas to help me keep this draft alive x

warnings: mention of suicide, implied self harm, self hate, spanish federation.

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?" it was an ignorant affair to believe, something only somebody with a slight sliver of saved up hope might trust. not you. not the broken shell of a person that can only believe you are the only thing keeping yourself together.

the glue to a cracked vase. in which the vase was you and you were slowly breaking under pressure that had been following you for years. if you hadn't hit rock bottom a couple months ago, you were certainly scraping the edge with your bare teeth now.

you had been one of their strongest forwards available to select from. a top forward in your league, it would be silly for them not to call you up with the titles next to your name at such a young age. it was inevitable that you would be called up for the world cup squad selection and there was nothing you could have done about it even if you tried.

you were just so helpless weren't you?

there was nobody to tell that you didn't want to travel to australia to play for a team that had ripped you inside out before you were even first national tournament debut, nobody that would understand how badly you wanted to represent your country and how willing you were to put your body on the line for it even for a single minute in spanish colours.

is that why you stayed quiet?

you stared towards yourself in the mirror, wondering if maybe your eyes had ever truly been as light as they used to tell you. that the light in your eyes you had been promised was always there had just seemingly disappeared. the eyes that they still talk about that seem so foreign to you now as you look back at yourself through shattered glass. wondering if maybe it was all just a lie.

maybe it was all just a lie.

a black and white faceless lie that everything you would go through for a ruthless tournament was for the better of you. or worse. a binary promise that everything would be okay, that all the suffering would end in good for you. or not.

but you look back through the same eyes that you were meant to be able to trust, the eyes that let everything just happen without looking back, and you still don't understand how you could be so easily deceived, taken apart from top to bottom like a neglected toy.

a useless, discardable toy. was it all a lie?

maybe the people who were meant to protect you and care for you were actually abusing you to wits' ends. maybe it wasn't that you needed the further training they made you endure after your previous training, but that you were so young and fresh and all too easy to manipulate.

maybe it was those you trusted and who sent you away with the assurance that you would be the next spanish legacy that isolated you from the world and treated you as a vessel to secure gold for spain.

but you were to blind and powerless to seek help.

you had been the silent one. the one too shattered to even bear the trial that came with the aftermath of the events following your world cup win. you knew the federation would come after you. you were the one who wanted so badly to sign the document that your teammates had but you couldn't bring yourself to look at the people who had broken you from the inside out for even just a second to speak your mind.

you were just a shell of a once strong force now weren't you?

you knew they would try and rip away each and every title you had ever worked for and your playing rights along with it. you were a world cup, champions league, copa de la reina, nations league and liga f winner. but maybe you were just a vulnerable, small cog in a relentless system that wouldn't stop until you broke down and they would throw you away like the others.

the fear of losing everything you had worked for since you were a small child paralyzed you for months. the mere thought of speaking out, of seeking help, seemed as impossible as how you got into the situation in the first place.

the federation had an iron grip on your life, they could control you whether you were defenseless to it or not and any caught wind of saying something felt like signing your own demise.

it would end you surely? don't you think that maybe speaking out for help would become the end of your career? one that had barely started as you were only freshly twenty years old? staying quiet was the better option. you had thought you could escape unscathed, but your reality was far from it.

nobody had your best interest and those who did didn't make it clear enough until you finally broke down from the denied pressure. it felt like a void sometimes. as if you were screaming and nobody could hear you, or maybe nobody cared?

no they care. didn't they?

did they care when you were forced out of bed early in the morning to complete extra practice before the day even started? did they care when you were just a young teenager illegally moving up into the senior divisions of international football to cover for seniors who had denied their call up's and was made to exhaust your body more than you ever should? did they care when the private meetings you were obligated to attend turned into time to yell at you, to break you down as if you hadn't given your entire life to the federation.

but then again, if not football what else did you have to live for?

you asked yourself these questions over and over again. each time just hoping that the harsh reminder of your situation would lessen. it never did. it never would. it would be stuck with you no matter how hard you tried to block it out, no matter how hard you tried to ignore who and what made you shrink a million times over.

the fear, the abuse, the meal plans, the body exhaustion, the denied freedom, the stolen happiness, a cruel reminder of the bottomless hole you had found yourself falling deeper and deeper and there was nothing you could do to get out.

you were truly and utterly stuck.

~

the office is cold, its white walls a stark contrast to the warmth in the hallway you had been waiting in for the past half hour. the thick carpet muffles your footsteps as you walk toward the large desk in the center of the room, the air you're walking into a harsh wind of tension that couldn't be cut with a blade if you tried.

you swallow hard, your throat dry despite the countless bottles of water you’ve consumed throughout the day. but your hydration doesn't matter now, whatever it said to you in the next twenty minutes does.

the glare of the desk lamp catches your eye, reflecting the same harsh light that seems to spotlight you everywhere, waiting for you to make your next mistake. you glance at the stern faces of the officials seated behind the desk, their expressions unreadable as they read through what looks like your performance reports.

“please, take a seat,” the head of the federation says, his voice clipped as he places his hand predatorily on your lower back and guides you to sit down. you lower yourself into the chair, the thin material of your club shorts rubbing uncomfortably against the velvet furniture.

the head official adjusts his collar, peering over them at you with a sharp look almost as though you had done something to personally offend him. but those aren't anything close to his next words.

“you’ve been doing exceptionally well, tesoro.” he begins, but his tone is far from genuine and you feel that something else is coming. “your performance has been impressive, especially considering your age and the closeness of the tournament.”

you nod, though his praise feels hollow, almost as if you're falling into a set trap made just for you. your heart races and you grip your hands on the chair. you want to speak up, to voice your concerns about the overwhelming training schedules and the strain it’s putting on your body, but the words get lost in your throat.

“we’ve decided to integrate you into the senior squad for the upcoming world cup. it’s a great opportunity, but it also means you’ll need to do far more than what you're currently putting in.”

your chest tightens. you’ve been waiting for this for a long time, but when he finally tells you it feels overwhelming and you don't understand why a moment you have been prepping for years of your life makes you feel uneasy. you push it off as nerves.

the world cup is a chance to showcase your skills on a global stage, this is your moment, don't stare it in the face and back down.

another official at the side of the room glances at you with a fleeting look of concern before turning back to his notes. he seems to recognize the strain you’re currently feeling, but his words are lost just like yours as the head continues to talk to you.

“your development is crucial to our success,” the head official says, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “we expect you to handle this responsibility with the utmost professionalism. this is an opportunity for you to prove yourself and secure your place on the national team.”

"and who knows, i have spots emptied by débiles that need filling. this is your shot don't blow it. tesoro." there is something about the way he talks to you and speaks about you over your head that makes you shiver right down to your core.

you nod again, feeling the weight of their words drop into the palm of your hand and the room seems to close in on you as they continue discussing your role to each other and the intense training you will need to undergo in the upcoming months.

the meeting ends with a firm handshake and a curt nod from yourself and as you leave the office, the clear expectations settle heavily on your shoulders, the fear of failing and the pressure to succeed feeling almost insurmountable. yourself unaware of the danger you have just put yourself in.

~

you're not even sure when it all started. you can't pinpoint when the abuse started, if you could even call it that, or if it was there the whole time and you normalised it for yourself because that was the better option instead of speaking out in your mind.

it was enough of the lack of players available that caused them to attempt to burn you out as much as they could. it was enough for the federation to take one look at you and decide that the weight of the world relied on your shoulder whether you liked it or not.

that was your purpose. it was your job to lead the team to victory without a second mistake. without a setback, through injury, responsible for the good and the bad, amidst an internal battle with yourself that was dragging you down, and most importantly with a smile on your face even if you were shattered from the inside.

a smile on your face. nobody would notice would they?

~

“siéntate, tesoro,” he commands, his tone carrying an edge of impatience and you feel yourself move quickly into his office at his voice. you sink into the chair, its firm surface a harsh contrast to how had felt in the chair only mere months ago.

“you’re here because you’ve been selected for the world cup squad,” he begins, his voice cold and he digs his hand into the desk as he leans close to you. “but let’s be clear, tesoro. being selected was only the first challenge. we expect more from you.”

you nod, but the weight of his words feel heavy and you can't help but notice that the official who had given you the sorry look was missing from his spot behind the desk.

“we’ve noticed that you’re not quite fitting the ideal player we had in mind,” he continues, and you shake off any thoughts of the past official when your eyes meet his. “you’re not fast enough, not agile enough. you’re not meeting the physical standards we expect from you.”

his words sting, each critique like a hard blow to your self-esteem that wasn't really there in the first place. “your performance has been adequate,” he says, “but adequate isn’t enough. we need you to be exceptional and above all competition. and right now, you’re neither of those.”

he leans forward, his breath fanning over you as you look down at the floor in fear. “your weight is one concern of our team, but it’s not just about being heavier or lighter. it’s about how you present yourself. we need you to be leaner, faster and even more dynamic. you’re not the perfect image we want for the team right now.”

the room seems to close in around you as he continues. “we’ve seen some players who didn’t meet our expectations and they were dropped. you need to understand that if you don’t shape up, you will be next to not enter through doors again. comprendido?"

he gestures to a pile of strawn documents on his desk and you look up from the concrete fall at the harsh snap of his fingers in your face.

“we have reports here, tesoro, that detail everything we need from you. and it’s not just about physical performance. it’s about how you look, how you’re perceived by the public. you need to be more endearing, more marketable. if you can’t fulfill that role, then we'll find another.”

his gaze is relentless and he talks to you like you're a faceless object that he can discard at his will, throw away when he feels you're not complying with his demands. he can take you off this squad the moment you defend yourself.

“you’re not here just to play; you’re here to be the face of the team. the face of spain. and right now, you’re not cutting it for us. we need you to be a star, not just another player in this tournament. and if you’re not willing to meet those expectations, then you’re in the wrong place i'm afraid.”

“now, we’re going to do something,” he continued, his voice carrying a coldness that made your stomach curl inwards as you sat fearfully in your chair. “i need you to repeat after me. ‘i am not good enough. i need to be better."

you hesitate, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak as you blinked harshly to try and to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say quietly, looking down shamefully at the floor like a small child being scolded by their parent.

“louder.” he demands, his voice cutting through the room like a whip and you try not to flinch at the volume of his words. “i need to hear you say it with conviction. you are lying through your teeth pequeña. don't lie to me, i hate liars."

“again,” he insists. “and this time, say it as if you truly believe it. i am not good enough. i need to be better." you force yourself to repeat the phrase, the words make you feel as if you're stripping away everything you ever built yourself to believe. every title, every trophy, every medal, every goal. erased.

“i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say louder, the humiliation of his cruel exercise making your stomach lurch and you struggled to keep yourself together.

“very good,” the official says, his tone carrying a note of being pleased and you hated that you loved the feeling of his approval. “you should understand that just because you’re going to australia doesn’t mean you get to enjoy it. you’re there for work, not to have fun.”

his manipulation is chilling to the bone, designed to strip away any sense of accomplishment you had ever felt. “you’re not meant to enjoy australia, it’s not a vacation. you’re there to prove yourself, not to sightsee. you need to focus solely on the tournament, on meeting the expectations we’ve set for you. or we won't hesitate to send you home.”

“this is a serious commitment. if you let yourself get distracted, you’re failing in your duty. you’re expected to perform at your peak, and that means putting aside any thoughts of leisure or enjoyment. this isn’t about you enjoying yourself; it’s about you meeting the standards we've set for you.”

“if you allow yourself to get comfortable or take things lightly,” he warns, “you’re showing weakness. and weakness is unacceptable. you need to stay sharp, stay focused, and remember why you’re here.”

his manipulation is subtle yet even then you could tell that he knew you wouldn't fight back, he had designed it to make you feel guilty for even considering enjoying the tournament.

“this is a test of your worth,” he says. “if you can’t handle the pressure and keep your focus, you’re not fit for the team. we need you performing to the highest standards that we expect from everybody else. including you. if you can’t handle the pressure, then you’re not worthy of the position. we expect you to rise to the challenge without complaint.”

~

you were far too gone to allow somebody else to take your spot. guilty and far too gone to let yourself slip through the cracks you had been told others had fallen through. somebody wouldn't be able to deal with the kind of pain you had been trained to believe as normal.

somebody else definitely wasn't as strong as the fake front you had built up to deal with it all, or at least that's what you told yourself, it made you feel better even if you didn't believe it.

you felt like nothing.

was it the pressure? was it the memories? was it the unhealable bruises that littered you from head to toe? or was it the feeling that you gave your whole existence to people who threw you away like you were just dirt on the bottom of a shoe?

you were numb.

you couldn't even remember the last time you had felt truly happy, truly yourself. the facade of a charming female footballer you put on for the world was crumbling and you were scared that people would finally see the pain that lied underneath.

the mirror showed a person trapped between who they once were and the brokenness of who they had become, drowning in a sea of your own helplessness.

you wondered if there was any way back to the person you used to be, or if that person was gone forever, if she had fallen through but ignored by who you had been built to be. this is what rock bottom feels like. rock bottom is not knowing who you are anymore, not recognising any of the memories of the person you were before.

it's the lostness of knowing that you can't find yourself again, seeing your old self in the distance but not knowing how to reach it with the strength you so clearly do not have.

it's the painful acknowledgement that the once vibrant and full of life person who was here before has been replaced by a shadow and you're struggling to fight the dark.

had the darkness swallowed you yet?

your phone rings loudly in your ear. it's more harsh this time than the previous sounds that had escaped the device. you know who's calling you because there wasn't exactly anybody in your life that would reach out to you so religiously and determindly.

you bit down on your lip. a similar memory of you lying on the floor answering the man who had made you the emotionless person that couldn't bear to even think about the game you used to live for.

you miss the person you were. that man gutted her from the inside.

the sound pierces into the thick silence of the room, demanding you to answer as it broke through the barrier of quiet you had built up. the screen of your phone lights up and you let your eyes flicker down towards it, your phone displaying the name of the person you dreaded to see you how you are now.

a feeling you couldn't quite place as dread or relief washed over you as your phone vibrated against the cold floor. dark purple bruises forming on your legs and arms from the time you had spent laying on the bathroom floor.

you slowly reach for your phone, drops of blood dripping off your skin and onto the glass as tears make their way down your face from the dark circles that countless nights of lost sleep had created for you.

your fingers tremble as you swipe to answer the call as if they are carrying the burden you've been feeling for months, and the screen lights up with the caller's name again. you can't turn back now, you've answered the one person you would hate to see you like this.

you contemplate hanging up the phone, staying silent on your end of the call as if magically the situation would disappear and you could leave like you so badly wanted to.

you sound nothing like the person you were a year ago.

"hola amorcito. are you there?" the voice on the other end of the line breaks through your thoughts, the term of endearment so familiar yet painful almost making you burst into another set of tears but you stay strong for her because that's what he would have wanted.

"ale?" you reply, your voice steady but still shaking as you lift your phone to your ear to hear better. "i'm here." there's a soft sigh on alexia's side of the phone and you can almost picture her sitting with her girlfriend on the couch, the older woman had tried to call you throughout the week but you hadn't answered and she'd been waiting for you to call her back.

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?"