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j0kers-light · 11 months

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His Lighthouse: Push and Pull (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Push and Pull

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series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

With the official girl’s night over Y/n finds herself in unknown territory with a low social battery. As night’s events are revealed how will Joker talk himself out of this one?

author’s note:

The level of research I had to put in for this update was. Phew! If you wanna know the exact jet used here, it’s a Learjet 45. I even listened to airport tower communications and mapped out the flight plan like an idiot. And what for? Just because. If you want to know the exact house Y/n and Joker stays at.. well! Zillow to the rescue! Link in the story below!

I want to thank everyone who sent out messages and words of encouragement when I was struggling with my writer’s block. I feel so much better and I hope you enjoy the chapter. It’s an important one. Think of it as the calm before the storm.

Taglist!

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angell @kaidennnnn @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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The room was calm despite the tense situation. The hour was growing later by the minute but no clues had presented itself towards their goal.

Jim thought the entire interaction was pointless but if Batman was entertaining the Clown's story, who was he to voice an opinion? They had already let Joker out of the straightjacket he wore so he could drink properly.

Probably not the best idea since any more freedom would be an open invitation for Joker to escape the precinct altogether. Give him an inch, he'll take a mile however this version of Joker was definitely off kilter and could care less.

Everything about today wasn't normal but Jim decided to keep quiet and wait things out. Maybe Batman saw something in between the lines of Joker's elaborate story.

Their main concern was for the mysterious girl captured in the blurry Polaroid, yet the longer Joker talked, it seemed she was beyond saving.

For what sane girl would willingly let Joker into her home and bed? It didn't make any sense how this woman went from fearing Joker in her own home to having public sex with him in a span of weeks. It was obvious that Joker was omitting pertinent information since the course of events were too spaced out but if it were true, that was even more concerning. At this point he was bragging or worse, wasting everyone's time to bid him enough to escape.

Either way, nothing was gained during this lengthy tell all and her whereabouts were still unknown.

Jim looked up hearing the cowl's modified voice speak. "I don't believe this."

Batman always kept a levelheaded no matter how dicey the situation but even his world renown patience had worn thin. He looked ready to resort to violence to get the answers he sought if not for Joker's exaggerated sigh echoing out in the interrogation room.

Joker was ready for all of this to end. "...and why... not?" He sighed.

"You? Capable of love? Don't fool yourself."

That quip made Joker sit up in his chair. Batsy never took things face value. It was all so tiresome.

"Whyyy is it so hard for you to believe that? Is it because you haven't experienced the emotion yourself? Oh and how could you? Not too many girls can handle the late nights and endless secrets. Trust meee. I know. At first I didn't ~believe~ either until my Light came along and made me see. Her sweet smile and infinite warmth washed over me and I..."

Joker stopped short and smiled to himself, scaring almost everyone watching the live feed. It wasn't his normal jester-like grin. This smile was genuine. Forlorn. Remorseful, but it was gone before anyone could study it further.

Jade eyes flickered back to their sworn enemy. "I fought soooo hard but I learned to accept it. To accept her. To uh.. trust.. and fall."

Gordon scoffed in the corner. He had been quiet for so long Joker almost forgot he was in the room. Almost.

"Fall where? Into madness? Or maybe into another vat of chemicals?" Jim teased. Hearing a nutjob like Joker ramble on about love was disturbing.

"RighT... into her arms. Loving her is the best decision I've ever made. She's perfect."

"If she's still alive, why won't you tell us where she is?" Gordon shouted. He was letting his emotions and lack of sleep get the better of him.

It's what they wanted to know all day. When booking found that picture on Joker, the clock started ticking. She could already be dead but closure would do her family some good– but if she were still alive? Then she was a treasure trove of knowledge. She could answer the age old question as to who the man behind the makeup was.

And Joker knew that. His enemies knew that too which ultimately made you a target and his greatest weakness. It was one of the reasons he turned himself in; to save you. He would always protect you even if the outcome broke your heart. He was protecting you now by only telling them necessary bits and pieces to keep this charade going.

Like Joker would ever tell them who you are. If Batsy and Commissioner Mustache wanted to know your identity so badly, they better find out elsewhere.

He was doing his best at retelling the last few months spent with you using a pseudonym but he was running out of vague stories. Everything after the trip to Atlanta was personal accounts that couldn't be fabricated no matter how much he twisted the truth to keep you anonymous.

They would know who you were if he continued. So he had to get crafty. Batman was playing checkers; Joker was playing chess. He just needed a little more time..

"Aht aht ahttt, Commissioner. If you're following along then you should have an idea by now. Anyways. Where was I?"

"Euphoria." Batman's raspy voice mentioned.

Joker spun around and grinned at his bestie. "See! Someone's keeping track around here! Hmm.. Euphoria. I got her into some trouble that weekend.."

The sunlight peeking through the open curtains roused you awake.

You grumbled and tried rolling over but the sheets were too entangled around your body for you to complete the motion. It made you feel trapped and you shot up wide awake to escape its clutches.

You looked down at crisp white hotel sheets holding your body hostage. They were the least of your concerns. You began to question where you were. The last thing you could remember was the finance office at the club, not a lavish hotel room with a missing lover. That part wasn't concerning. Joker never woke up in bed with you. It was a habit you were learning to accept. He left you alone more times than you'd care to admit.

Not knowing your surroundings was the bigger issue here. The foreign room was spacious and stylish, unlike any hotel you've ever seen, granted you rarely stayed at any.

This one had hardwood floors and it honestly looked more like a luxury apartment than a hotel. Past the big windows a breathtaking view stole your attention. The view of Midtown Atlanta was fast paced even this early in the day but nothing like Gotham.

The noise level was vastly different.

You set about to explore the place but quickly noticed you were naked. You remembered Joker cut your dress last night and it sparked a thought; what did you wear out of the club to get here. The possibilities had you rolling your e/c eyes.

Right as you were about to leave the bed, you heard a low beep and a door closing somewhere in the suite.

Even though you were in a completely different city your hackles raised, assuming the worst. You couldn't find anything to use as a weapon but braced yourself to fight should someone try and kidnap you again.

When Florence strolled through the doorway wearing a white hotel robe you relaxed but not for long. She looked like a woman on a mission and you were her sole target.

"Okay hear me out!" She began, "I know I got drunkity drunk last night and did some very.. very questionable things—" Flo shuddered, as if remembering whatever deplorable acts she did all over again. "I know what I saw!"

You weren't surprised by her drunk morning after regret, however her words made your anxiety skyrocket. "W-Which is?" You tried to stay calm and discreetly cover yourself to no avail.

Hungover Florence was just as perceptive as sober Flo. She immediately noticed your lack of attire and it only fueled her ire.

"I saw you creep up those stairs last night, Y/n! Neo told me there's only some office n' seedy sex rooms up there. So tell me what's good? Wait, wrong question. Was he good?"

You went pale like a ghost. "WHAT kind of rooms?"

"Stop deflecting whore." She clapped her hands after each word and immediately regretted it the moment her head began to pound worse.

She whined when you raised your voice. "You can't drop sex rooms in a conversation and not expect me to react! I-I got lost and... an employee guided me out after the club closed."

These little white lies have got to stop, Y/n. Your angel on your shoulder whispered.

You'd debate with your subconscious later. Right now you had to deal with an angry Florence.

"Bull__t. Then how you end up naked in a hotel room if you just 'got lost'?"

The devil on your other shoulder snickered. Good question, I'd like to know too. "I uh..."

Florence massaged her temples, sighing. "Ohhh my god. Just admit you had sex with someone! Was it that waiter from earlier?" Your entire body froze thinking she somehow remembered Joker.

"Listen, he was cute, but why isn't he here providing aftercare and s__t? Pause. You've been acting real sus lately. Red and I have been patient trying to deal with your weird behavior but this?" She waved her long acrylic nails at you. "This is totally unlike you."

You filed her comment about Joker being cute away for another day. She was opening up a can of worms that should've been left alone.

"Ohh okay so I'm not allowed to be flown out and dicked down by random men?" It took her a minute to get the insult but when she did, Flo blinked rapidly and scoffed.

"Neo isn't some random guy, Y/n!"

"You're right, my bad. He's a 'client.' You braid his hair a few times and suddenly you know him! C'mon Flo. You're trying to scold me but all I see is the pot trying to scorn the kettle!"

You don't know where this argument came from but you refused to back down and apologize. She could do anything with no judgment, but the moment you took a risk and had fun it was bad? Florence was a hypocrite if she didn't see how she was treating you right now.

Unfortunately she waved your speculations away like a pesky gnat.

"I'm built different! You're.. well you're you! You sit around the house and do boring s__t. I'm supposed to be the reckless and irresponsible one out of the group!"

Her reply rang loudly in the hotel room. You let her words fill the space before carefully choosing your own.

"So.. I'm not allowed to have fun?" You mumbled. You ducked your head, already starting to overthink things. Your mood bar automatically set itself to self-doubt.

Florence instantly sobered up. She cursed after realizing what she said.

"What? No. Wait! I mean.. ugh! Yes! Yes you're allowed to have fun, Y/n! It's just, not that kind of fun?" Flo's reply faded off into a question as she racked her brain for the right words. "What I'm trying to say is—"

Your eyes stung hearing the truth. Your dry, empty laugh cut her off.

"Hm, just like high school huh? Boring book nerd stuck being second best to her cheerleader friend. Glad to know things never change."

Florence cringed. "Y/n..."

Neo walked in with his annoying swagger and lofty demeanor; you were saved by the bell. He was dressed for the day despite it being bright and early. He quickly read the room. "Everything aight in here?"

Neither of you spoke. He noticed your teary eyes and somber mood and wisely took your side.

He didn't take his eyes off of you when he replied to Florence. "Ayyy Ma, I ordered room service. Go eat ya hangover away."

Flo being the independent woman she was spun around to protest; however, she was immediately shot down by Neo's hazel gaze.

You watched in awe as she backed down without further preamble. Florence always had the last word in an argument. Neo's gaze lingered on her as she left the room and eventually your suite. The door closed with a soft click leaving you alone with the 'club owner.'

If Florence was more sober, she never would have left you alone with him and she would've questioned how he got into your room without a key.

A shame you knew more about Neo than Florence ever would. He didn't need a key to come and go as he pleased. It wouldn't phase you if Joker owned the hotel behind the scenes. Your mind was already a storm of negative thoughts. You decided not to think about the finer details at present.

At least Neo kept his distance, sensing your sour mood. It was one less thing to worry about.

"You good.?" He asked.

"Like you care." You bit back. You yanked the sheets around you tighter. If he noticed he didn't comment on it.

"I don't– but I'd rather not have my neck snapped if Boss comes back and finds you crying and thinks I'm to blame." He made a valid point that dried your tears.

Joker wouldn't hesitate resorting to violence if you were in distress. No need to give him an excuse for murder. "Where is he by the way?" You changed the subject.

Neo chuckled and leaned against the grey dresser. "Damage control. Boss and Frost are out destroying any potential evidence of him being here last night. He is a wanted fugitive after all."

He didn't want to tell you the truth just yet until they came back with the all clear. Thankfully you didn't pry into it. It seemed like you had enough on your plate as is.

"I keep forgetting that. He makes it so easy to forget." You shifted on the bed causing Neo to respectfully look away when he saw a flash of bare skin.

Again, he didn't want to end up dead if Joker came back and assumed he was making a pass on you. It didn't help that Neo flirted with you the first time the two of you met.

Joker hadn't forgotten. The clown was hyper territorial over you, bordering on being yandere when it came to people eyeing his Bunny. They traveled nine hundred miles just because Joker was overprotective.

Frost tagged along to make sure Joker didn't start a killing spree simply because someone stared at you for too long. It turned into quite the daunting task after your racy performance with Florence. Too many people almost died trying to dance with you if Frost hadn't intervened.

Frost had enough of preventing blood on the dance floor after the nth person tried approaching you. He gave up and suggested that Joker just take you away. No murders to cover up and everyone had fun. Crisis averted.

Joker wanted to tease you a bit longer before heading back to the hotel but your friend showed up and thwarted his plans.

He forgot he wasn't supposed to be here when Neo called your group of friends up to the private lounge. Apparently this was Neo's original plans that he refused to cancel back at the laundromat. It all worked out with some... setbacks. Neo hoped it would be resolved quickly before it became an actual problem.

He returned to the present to toss a duffel bag on the bed that you failed to notice until now. You squeaked when it landed in your lap. He smiled at your icy glare and said nothing as you unzipped the compartment to look inside.

Much to your surprise, your favorite toiletries and a few other basic essentials were inside. "Where..."

Neo stood to leave. "You're welcome to join Florence for breakfast if you want. I won't force you after whatever happened here." He waved in general at the little spat you had with your Haitian friend. "She's on the twenty third floor. Room ten."

"Wait!" He stopped to raise an eyebrow at you. "What room am I in?" You asked.

He flicked the hotel keycard in your direction that he pickpocketed from Florence. You answered your own question by reading the room number printed on the back.

The Ritz- Carlton. No wonder everything was dripping with opulence. Of all the hotels in Atlanta, Joker would choose a high profile one.

Did he even care about being recaptured anymore? The best way to blend in was to act normal. It gave you more questions than answers for your already over processed brain. "Hey Neo, does Joker–?" You looked up but he was already gone.

"They come and go so quickly in Oz." Your stomach decided it wanted attention and growled in the now silent room. "Yeah, yeah pipe down. I'll feed you sheesh."

You pulled with all your might to detach the bed sheets from their corner prisons and then walked into the luxury bathroom to relieve yourself.

The room was gorgeous with a walk-in rain shower, real marble countertops, and an adjacent soaker tub. It was nothing like your custom built bathroom back home but it made you question how much a night here cost. With your WHB royalties you could afford it, but that didn't mean you wanted to foot the bill.

You found a complimentary robe identical to the one Florence wore in a separate closet and shrugged it on after washing your hands. It smelled like fresh linen with a hint of vanilla. It would have to do since you didn't have any clothes to change into.

All thanks to Joker. He must have some kind of grudge against your clothes. You knew it needed to end. At this rate you'd actually need all those clothes Bruce bought you..

You slipped your hotel keycard into the robe pocket and slid into the complimentary hotel slippers to ride the elevator down to Florence's suite. Just because it was on a lower floor didn't mean the amenities were lesser than. It was still classy and screamed of wealth.

You rasped your knuckles on the door and patiently waited. It opened to the sight of Florence wearing clothes that Neo provided for her trip back home. You wished your man would give you clothes instead of running them.

She took one look at you and opened her mouth to reply but you weren't here to socialize. You were socially drained and your stomach growling louder by the second was your only priority.

This wouldn't be the first time you shut Florence out and it wouldn't be the last. She'd get over it sooner rather than later.

Neo wasn't kidding when he said he ordered room service. It was straight out of a movie with a rolling tray, silver dome serving dishes and fine china. You opened one and steam hit your face from the fresh array of food. You picked up a plate and proceeded to load it up with your choices.

"Are you seriously gonna snub me for the rest of the day?" Florence asked behind you.

Your silent treatment was notorious and it hit hard knowing you could go days without talking. Living alone for so many years gave you lots of practice.

She rushed over and fixed her own plate before sitting down at the formal dining table across from you. You were busy going through the motions and didn't notice Florence was trying to get your attention. You silently ate your food, lost in a sea of thoughts.

Florence was still pushing her food around when you finished your portion. She panicked when you wiped your mouth clean and stood to leave. "Y/n wait!"

Neo came out of the bedroom, raising an eyebrow at the tense air in the room. What was up with the two of you this early in the morning?

Then you spoke up startling them both with your monotone voice. It was safe to say you were dead inside. "Enjoy your flight back to Gotham."

"What? Y/n what are you talking about? We're flying back together.. N-Neo already bought us tickets!" Florence cried out and begged him to intervene with exaggerated mannerisms. He chose not to get involved.

You sighed and looked away. "No thanks. I'll find my own way back."

"Y/n, don't be reckless." She winced when her choice of words sank in.

"Can't. That's your job, remember?" You padded over to the door and stepped back into your slippers. You patted your pocket, making sure your room key was still inside.

Florence was calling your name but the door was already slamming shut behind you as you headed back to the elevator. You needed some time alone.

The hotel suite was much colder when you returned. It looked nearly identical to Florence's but a few well placed details distinguished the two rooms to the trained eye.

It didn't matter to you. Your next stop was the bed and it would be the same no matter where you went. Your social battery was at negative zero percent and Joker still being M.I.A didn't help things. You strolled past the kitchenette and dining room in the suite to the bedroom but you screamed at seeing an intruder.

Joker laying spread eagle on the bed was not what you were expecting.

His jet black shirt and slacks was a stark contrast against the pristine white sheets. Last night he blended in with the club's shadows but during the day he looked far more intimidating, like a devilish businessman ready to crush a company with a single phone call.

His disguises were uncanny. His green hair ruined the illusion though. It was currently shielding his eyes from your view but when he lifted his head after hearing your startled cry, they were sharper than any knife boring into your soul.

"Nice robe Bunny." Joker grinned and eyed you from head to toe.

"T-Thank you. Some idiot destroyed my dress last night." You said in between catching your breath.

"Watch it..." He didn't take kindly to your word of choice but pressed forward. "I couldn't resist."

You said nothing as you prepared to walk back out but Joker rushed over and plucked you from the air like you weighed nothing and threw you on the bed. The wind was knocked out of your chest upon impact and Joker used your shock to his advantage to begin untying your robe.

His intentions were clear as day. The man was insatiable.

You blinked in shock and parted your lips to tell him off but Joker saw it as an invitation to kiss you senseless. Your hands flew to his shoulders as he devoured your mind and soul with one kiss. As much as you wanted to pour the same sentiments into the exchange, your heart wasn't in it today yet you knew not to deny Joker.

However the clown was anything but attentive. He parted for air and frowned at your listless gaze staring back at him.

You blinked owlishly at his emerald orbs. When the hue became too much to bear, you averted your gaze but Joker would have none of it. He saw a different kind of desire in your eye and sought to fulfill it.

"Where do ya wanna go?" He sighed. He brushed a stubborn curl off your forehead.

You weren't expecting such a sweet gesture from him. "Huh?"

Joker rolled his eyes and lied down next to you, resting his cheek in his palm. "When it's you against them, you run. I can seeee iT in your eyes, Bunny. You can't physically escape so your mind does."

He tapped your temple with his knuckle. It caught you off guard how easily he identified your dissociation. Florence didn't notice and she knew you for years.

Mindful of your mood, Joker chose to pick up your dainty hand in his much larger one. He stopped to admire your brown skin against his pale complexion and grinned at the contrast.

The two of you were so different, but blended so well together.

"Sooooo. Where. Do. You. Wanna. Go?" He kissed each of your fingers while keeping eye contact with you.

The romantic gestures, Joker acknowledging your meltdown and his devout patience through it, brought tears to your eyes. You felt trapped. Florence's words struck a nerve and you wanted out but you were miles away from your sanctuary. You would have to settle for the next best thing.

You curled up to Joker's chest with a wet sob.

"I want.. I want to get away. S-Somewhere quiet and peaceful."

Joker was at a loss seeing this version of you. Was this how you acted when you disappeared into your room? If so, you were a pathetic sight. A sight he wanted to dote on and protect.

He knew you were vulnerable and sensitive right now. He didn't know if you needed space or affection. He rested his hand on your head despite his uncertainty. You didn't shy away from it.

He surmised you were burnt out from partying last night and from what Neo explained to him, you also had an argument this morning with Florence.

Joker knew with your current mental exhaustion, you would lash out at anyone just to get away. He would have to tread carefully to not upset you. He didn't want to be iced out either. Joker had to curb his own selfish desires and be the mediator for once. He never had to calm someone down before. He didn't know how to comfort others.

So far he was doing good just by holding you close. You were dozing off in Joker's embrace when he asked you again.

"Mm sorry. Can we go to the beach?" You glanced up at his profile.

His scars were on full display from this angle but they didn't scare you. Waiting for his response did. It sent millions of butterflies swarming in your gut. As the minutes ticked by in silence you anticipated his rejection.

He mulled it over completely unaware that stalling was causing you more pain. Joker wanted to try lifting your spirits with a pop culture reference but it took him a minute to remember the quote correctly.

"You wanna go outside? Why Y/n look at you, as fragile as a flower!"

He rolled over to hide the infectious grin taking over his face but you didn't see it that way. Joker turning his back on you felt like a hard no. Your first reaction was to break down completely, but then your mind processed his poor attempt at a joke, forcing you to backtrack.

He felt you climb on his back and turned his head your way. There was a dangerous gleam in Joker's eye making it luminescent. "Ah, careful there Princess."

You flushed at the position you were in. The nickname and warning sent a chill down your spine but you shook it away.

"I'm going to ignore the fact you watched a Disney movie to know that quote— but I'm serious, Joker. Just you and me. Please?"

The moment you said the word serious he was all ears. You let him shift your weight around so he could lay on his back with you straddling him proper.

His hands found their natural place on your hips and he smacked his lips before gazing up at you. Your adorable pout could ruin him. He liked when you smiled, not all sad and abysmal. He really had to fix this mood of yours before he took you back to Gotham.

"You forget... I'm a want-ed criminal." He tapped your thigh peeking out from the robe in some Morse code that you couldn't decipher.

"That hasn't stopped you before. Plus, I wanna go to the beach at night." You explained. His eyebrow dipped in confusion.

"At night?" He echoed back.

"Yes. I wanna hear the dark ocean waves crashing onto the shore and feel the stillness of the night embrace me." You closed your eyes and held yourself while swaying with a dreamy smile on your face.

Joker watched you fondly, picturing it himself.

"Hmm. Have I ever told you you're goood with words?" He grabbed the back of your neck to drag you down for a kiss.

For the first time this morning you laughed. Joker relished in the sound and let it wash over him. He could listen to its twinkling bells and never tire of it.

"I think once or twice." You kissed his cheek, knowing the skin there was sensitive. "Can we though?"

Joker winced at the affectionate touch and retaliated by pushing your robe off your shoulders to pool around your waist. You shivered from being exposed but let Joker do whatever.

"Can we.. whaT?" Joker sat up to kiss your neck, trying to get you in the mood.

It wasn't working and you tried rolling away but he kept you perched on his lap with his strong grip. You weren't going anywhere he didn't want you to.

"Nope. Nooo more running away from meee. Yeah sand and salty water. That sounds.. relaxing. You sure about this?" Joker sighed after a while.

He finally undid your robe and bared you fully to his gaze. The canvas of your body was painted with splotches of eggplant and indigo, the after work of Joker's possessives— ranging from love bites to his heavy handprints. Two days worth of lovemaking was imprinted on your skin and he brushed each mark with the tips of his fingers in morbid fascination.

His favorite? The ones on the dips of your hips.

He loved grabbing you by the waist and keeping you close so the bruises there never seemed to heal. You wore them proudly. If anything, they tickled whenever Joker pressed down on the dark blemishes like he was right now.

"Y-Yeah. Let's.. mmm, let's make the whole day of it. We can stay at ahh... at a hotel on the coast and f-finish what you're trying to start." You breathed out.

Joker leaned back so he could see your face. A dusting of red took over your features although he could tell you were still emotionally drained.

"Why don't you wanna do it here? I bet, you're uh, weT already Bun–"

"I-I've never been to a beach before." You confessed. Joker saw you look away. Your entire demeanor was closed off again. Sex wouldn't fix your mood so he stopped trying.

"Well. That? That's gonna change today, doll. Every city girl needs to uhh, experience a day at the beach!" He mimicked your uncertain nod with his enthusiastic one.

You were closing him out again and he didn't like you all melancholic. Joker liked his Bunny in high spirits so he decided to go all out to make you happy again. He smacked your bum to get you off of him. "Go get ready."

When you didn't move, he tossed you on the bed and started patting his pockets for his burner phone.

You were left trying to stabilize your balance before you bounced clean off the bed. Joker's mood came and went so quickly, it was hard to tell when he would be affectionate or apathetic.

You watched as he called up Frost, dismissing you completely, until he turned and snapped his fingers at you in warning. "I won'T say it again, doll."

You didn't need to be told twice. Paired with Joker's sultry dom tone and his dark business attire, you quickly obeyed. His sharp green eyes followed you as you grabbed the toiletries bag Neo brought and scurried into the bathroom with your discarded robe.

Unfortunately you tripped halfway there and caught yourself, quoting some kind of Blüdhaven phrase he heard once or twice. Joker smirked at your quirky personality slowly creeping back up to the surface.

By the day's end he hoped you were fully back to normal. Well, your definition of normal at least. His focus shifted back to his phone when Frost repeated himself to get his Boss's attention.

"Great idea Frosty! She'll love that.."

The bathroom door clicking close transported you to a different state of mind. All was quiet here amongst the marble and bright lights. The big mirror in front of you beckoned you over and you did, to take in the state of your hair.

You determined your curls could last another day despite Joker constantly pulling on them all last night and then going to sleep without a bonnet on. It was a miracle you would gladly take since you had no other way to fix them. You peeked into the duffel bag provided to you and debated on taking a shower or a quick wash up.

Joker was busy on the phone and he didn't specify how much time you had so with a grin you grabbed the loofah and the bottle of shower gel and approached the shower with glee.

Joker was still in the bedroom ironing out the itinerary for the day when Frost brought up a very good question.

"Which one she wanting to go to?"

Joker hummed out loud. Wasn't every beach the same? Same sand, same water, just on a different coast. So did it really matter which one? He was good with geography and racked his brain for the nearest shoreline in Georgia but stopped short.

This was about you. If he picked a random beach and you didn't like it, then what was the point? His Bunny had particular tastes so he would honor them.

Luckily you didn't lock the bathroom door. Joker burst through it on the hunt for his squeeze. You weren't near the sink and a peek in the tub— you hadn't drowned yourself, that's good to know. The only place left was.. there.

You saw the glass door slide open and turned to face Joker. You were rinsing off and dashed to cover yourself as he stared in awe.

"Mmm I don't see the point, doll. I've seen.. every.. single inch of ya. Tasted it too." He licked his lips, remembering.

You shielded yourself out of habit. "W-Whatever. What do you want?"

Joker arched an eyebrow at your tone. You were still defensive. "Do ya care which one Bunny?"

He watched a trickle of water trail down your legs and barely heard your request for him to clarify.

"I'll be more clearER then." He stepped into the shower and tactfully avoided getting wet while keeping the phone in his hand dry as well. "Which beach?" He slurred his words on purpose to provoke you.

Your mouth quivered trying to think while Joker eyed you like that. You couldn't avoid his ardent gaze no matter how hard you tried. In the end you rambled off the first shore on your mind.

"I a-always wanted to go to Martha's Vineyard. There's a pier there with the most picturesque view I've seen online. I think it's called Aquinnah Cliffs or something like that."

Joker blinked at you, holding the phone. He knew exactly where it was. "That's in Massachusetts."

"So?" You tucked a few stray curls back under your shower cap and spun around to finish up. You made your choice. The conversation was over.

Frost couldn't believe what he was hearing and snickered on his end of the phone.

Yeah, you had Joker wrapped around your finger. No one ever talked to the Boss like that and survived, let alone dismissed him so flippantly. Frost would have paid good money to see Joker's face right about now. In the meantime, he made himself useful and checked to see if there was a house in the area that the gang owned and spoke up.

"I'll contact our operations nearby and get things sorted out." Frost said in farewell.

Joker glanced at the phone in shock. He didn't agree to this! And much to his irritation, Frost had already hung up. Who was running things around here? He heard the shower come to a stop and he narrowed his eyes when you stepped out like the Birth of Venus with steam curling around your body.

You were a true goddess indeed. You hesitated at the entrance with a sheepish look. "I didn't grab a towel."

Or maybe just a ditzy mortal wench sent to drive him even more insane.

Joker exhaled through his nose and stood his ground. A tense stand-off occurred with you dripping wet and him eyeing you expressionless. "Joker.. I'm creating a puddle on the floor. Can you please hand me a towel?"

So what if you ordered him around a bit? He was still in charge. Your pretty white teeth biting down on your lips was oh so worth bending to your will. And so was the award winning smile you gave him.

He grumbled but grabbed a towel and all but threw it at you. "Thank you." You smiled again when you caught it and began to dry off.

You bent over to dry your legs and he groaned at the arch in your back.

Since when was drying off sexy or was it simply because you were doing it? His sex drive was nonexistent before he met you but now everything about you aroused him. Did you drug him with something? Was it healthy to be this attracted to someone?

You straightened back up and patted your arms, blissfully unaware of your alluring prowess. "Hey. What was Frost talking about on the phone? Do you have an operation in Massachusetts?"

You were under the impression that Joker only terrorized Gotham City. You yanked your shower cap off and shook your curls back to life in the mirror. You saw Joker walk up behind you in the reflection but continued grooming yourself.

"They're still pretty, Sugar." Your hands froze. Joker and his infinite nicknames for you. It never fails.

You cleared your throat and went to grab your lotion off the counter. "You didn't answer my question."

Joker smacked your hands away and started lotioning you up himself. He began with your shoulders and locked eyes with you in the mirror.

"You reallyyyy think I would limit my fun to just Gotham? Pffft. Come on, Bunny! I'm a national threat." He nipped your neck and massaged the lotion down your back.

You let that sink in as Joker moisturized your body. You thought of all the suffering he caused so many people yet when he was with you, Joker was anything but kind. He treated you with the utmost respect and went out his way to be nice. Sure, he was still The Joker and at times his words were like a double edged sword, but he always kissed the wounds and made them better in the end.

You glanced down at the faded cuts on your hands he gave you weeks ago.

It was almost fully healed but the mental reminder was permanent. You craned your neck in the mirror and saw the endless love bites and scratches that adorned your skin. Joker was sour and then sweet but could you overlook how he treated others?

He could love on you endlessly but once these months spent together passed, he would return to his terror across the country. Could you live with knowing the man whom you considered a lover enjoyed murder and destruction? What would your mother think if she knew the company her daughter kept?

You could see your father's disapproving head shake now. If he hated your high school boyfriends, what would he think of Joker? Absolutely the worst. Mom would try to convince me to move back home and Dad would get himself killed trying to threaten Joker somehow. You thought.

You let out a shaky sigh and failed to see Joker finishing up with his task. He said your name but your eyes were unfocused, staring ahead beyond this bathroom. Where did your mind go, he wondered? Somewhere he could not follow. He called your name again to no avail so he used his last resort. Fear.

The bottle slamming loudly on the sink scared you out of your rabbit hole. Joker's frown greeted you in the mirror.

"When you're done uh, float-ing, there's a dress for you on the bed." He walked towards the door leaving you bereft. "Be ready to go by 1pm."

Then you were left all alone and more unsure of this fragile relationship than you ever been.

By the time you splashed some water on your face, Joker was gone. You clutched the robe tighter around you as you searched the suite for him. With a heavy heart you trudged back to the bedroom but stopped short seeing a flash of color on the white sheets.

A ruffled floral dress was carefully laid out on a wooden hanger. At the foot of the bed, a pair of pink ribbon stilettos brought the whole outfit together. You walked over to inspect it closer.

You knew your closet like the back of your hand. Seeing a piece from your most recent summer haul put a smile on your face.

"And he says he doesn't plan things." You sighed. Joker made it hard to hate him when he did things like this. Maybe you could overlook his flaws after all.

You were twirling around in your maxi dress when three loud knocks sounded from the hotel door.

"J-Just a second!" You had already packed the duffel bag Neo gave you and zipped your evening bag inside of it. Besides that, you had nothing to your name. You were just waiting around for Joker to return.

You looked through the peephole to see the back of Neo's braids and rushed to open the door. "Aren't you supposed to be flying back to Gotham with Florence?"

A glance at the clock in the room put that day around noon.

He scoffed. "Business first. Pleasure later. Walk down to the lobby, you're already checked out. There's a car waiting to take you to the airport. Be discreet." You nodded and heaved your bag onto your shoulder, ready to walk out the door if not for Neo grabbing your arm.

"I'll take care of Florence but call her later tonight if you can. She's blaming herself for your sh__ty attitude."

In that moment you viewed Neo a lot more differently. It seemed like he actually cared about your friend, which baffled you. You knew his stereotype well. Neo was all about himself, however he was proving your assumptions dead wrong.

"I will and thanks, Neo. I mean it." Your smile was faint but it still made him flustered.

He faltered with his response and let his grip on you fall. Who knew getting on your good side would be so easy? He nodded his head towards the elevator down the hall and off you went, following his instructions to the letter.

You blended in with the posh hotel guests filling the lobby and no one stopped you when you walked straight out the door. A sleek black town car with the correct license plate was waiting for you. You half expected Sebastian to be your driver but when you opened the door you were thoroughly disappointed to see an unknown female at the wheel. She kept her head straight ahead when you said hello.

Based on her demeanor you knew she was either under Joker's employ or threatened to keep her mouth shut. Definitely the latter. He wasn't joking when he said he had pull outside of Gotham.

Just how dangerous was Joker? A part of you didn't want to find out.

The fifteen minute drive to the airport was anticlimactic but you still entertained yourself with your phone, catching up on last night's group chat and answering a few social media messages. Morgana and Barbara made it back to Gotham safely and Florence's departure time was scheduled for 4:15pm.

You were reaching your own method of transportation if Atlanta traffic would allow. The chaotic mess that was the international airport tacked on another thirty minutes to the travel time.

Oddly enough your driver turned onto a different section of the airport that looked restricted to the public. "Hey.. where are we going?" You asked her.

She kept quiet as she pulled the town car up to a private tarmac near a small jet. The car shifted to park and she idled in silence, waiting for you to leave.

"Okay.. since you're not talking. Thanks for the ride, I guess." You rolled your eyes and grabbed your things but stopped when she finally spoke.

"Be careful."

Your hand wavered on the door handle. Her warning shook you up a bit. It was like she knew something you didn't. You left without a response.

The charter jet looked big on the outside but once you stepped aboard it only had eight seats. You placed your duffel bag on the nearest one and heaved a sigh until you heard someone behind you.

"D__n, Bunny. Don't yoooou look..." Joker leaned on a seat and openly checked you out.

When he saw that dress hanging up in the guest bedroom closet, he needed to see you wearing it. He found matching shoes still in their original box in the back and instantly fell in love.

He didn't know what compelled him to bring a change of clothes for you. Maybe a part of him wanted to spend more time with you outside Gotham city limits. Seeing you now he was glad he brought a few things.

Too bad he didn't have access to your jewelry collection; you needed some gold on to truly complete the look. Joker rounded the seat and you got to see another one of his disguises.

"Oh." You never seen Joker look so casual before. Sure, he wore t-shirts and sweats around the penthouse but that was loungewear and you two weren't out in public. This was better than any tailored suit he could wear.

Joker wore a tight white tee over distressed grey ripped jeans. He hid his dyed hair under a baseball cap, turned backwards of course, and you saw a flash of silver hanging around his neck. He tied the ensemble together with crisp white sneakers and his mischievous grin. You followed a prominent vein on his forearm up to his biceps that were on full display in his tee. This man could make anything look good, it was illegal.

He bent down to push your jaw closed with his finger. "Like what ya see?"

You nodded mutely. Joker smiled wide before walking towards the cockpit. That made you sober up fast. You jumped to your feet to follow after him.

"Joker! Wait! Did you steal this plane?" He said nothing as he sat down and started messing with the controls. You looked on in horror when the dash lit up in an array of lights and controls.

"Noooo silly. I'm.. borrowing it!" He flipped on the main engine switch and you panicked further, hearing it whirl to life. "Excuse me... what is you doing?!"

He snorted at your improper use of grammar. It meant you were nervous. He'd take any emotion rather than the lack thereof.

"Starting the engine. We can't fly without any power dear. Or fuel. Lots of that.." He chuckled to himself as if this was all another joke.

"I'd buckle in if I were you." He tossed your way. You were still standing by the cockpit door.

Joker sighed when you failed to move. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you down into the co-pilot seat and handed you a headset. You took it with shaky, sweaty hands. He fastened your seatbelt for you but everything was happening way too fast for you to comprehend.

The only thing that did make sense was the plane's cabin door closing with just you and Joker inside.

"Where's our pilot, Joker?!!"

He smacked his lips, ignoring your hysterics in favor of contacting ATC. "Atlanta Center this is.. uh, L0LJK holding short of Runway 26 Romeo, to MVY."

It all sounded like Chinese to you but some gut instinct told you to keep quiet.

There was a period of silence as Joker continued messing with the controls but finally Frost's voice came over the radio. "Just go."

You heard a scuffle on his end before the feed went dead yet Joker paid it no mind. He checked to see if you were secure, (you were way too quiet for his liking) before responding back via protocol.

"Cleared for takeoff. Runway 26 Romeo L0LJK." It was his official signal to start moving the plane. You glanced over at his giddy smile and erratic behavior. A madman was your pilot. A literal madman. You were gonna be sick.

You looked out the window as the plane taxied to its designated strip and started gaining more and more speed. It was such a common thing on a commercial flight but alone with Joker you felt each bump on the runway as you barreled down it. He was running out of tarmac and the plane was still on the ground.

That snapped you out of your stupor. "I-I-I c-changed my m-mind! I don't wanna go!! Let's stay h-here in Atlanta for the w-weekend!"

"A bit too late for that sweetheart." He chuckled lowly. The end of the runway inched closer and closer.

"JOKER I'M SERIOUS!"

"So am I." He whispered. He jerked the yoke up, pulling the plane into the sky at the last minute. Your screams filled the cabin along with Joker's maniacal laugh. Your head lolled back in your seat as you fainted.

The skies were clear and Joker followed procedures to get the jet to its average cruising altitude. It didn't take long but he couldn't afford to glance over and check on you during his checklists. He heard your body startle awake thirty minutes into the flight, and he breathed a bit easier knowing you were okay.

Once things were steady, he finally stole a gander at you.

"Y/n? Talk to me, doll." He clicked his tongue at your lack of reply and waited for you to fully come to. Your eyes were still closed and your breath in short, quick pants.

"W-Where? Oh. H-How? When did you learn how to fly?" You mumbled out. Joker shook his head at your broken sentences as you struggled to get your bearings straight.

"There's a– loT you don't know about me, Bunny. It's bet-ter that way."

You eyed him sideways after that cryptic response. You had to admit while you lost your marbles, Joker looked so at ease up here hitting buttons and navigating the skies almost... like..

You remembered the flash of silver you saw around his neck and decided to keep your theories to yourself. Joker eyed you out of the corner of his eye. He knew your mind could operate faster than the speed of light when you were lost in thought. There was no such thing as wishful thinking with you.

Things were calm and he felt confident enough to switch the controls over to autopilot to free up his hands.

You heard his seatbelt click loose and your e/c eyes darted over to him bending at the knee to unbuckle you. "No! What're you–"

Joker covered your clammy hands with his own. "Calm.. down, Y/n. It's safe ok? I joke around but I would neverrrrr risk your life like.. this. You trust me, hmm?"

Trust. Such a precious gift easily broken. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before drowning yourself into pools of emerald.

Joker's eyes were so clear as he tried to convince you. He knew you were more guarded than ever due to your lackluster mood. He could only hope that you actually trusted him when you finally gave him a hesitant nod. "O-Okay."

Joker repeated it back to you and rested his hand on your knee. It was shaking uncontrollably. You didn't notice.

"It'll take us four hourss to get to the, uh, Vineyard. You want something to drinK?"

"I didn't see a galley onboard." In fact, you only saw a single door at the end of the plane, most likely the lavatory, and the standard row of seats.

This jet was obviously for short business trips, nothing more. Your head nodded against your will. Joker didn't move, he was reading your body language to better understand your thoughts.

"Sweetheart. You thought I would starve you for four looong hours? I brought our own drinks and snacks." He smiled and went to grab them from his bag.

You snorted at his antics. "But you don't make plans."

"I don't!" He laughed from the back of the plane.

The initial shock must've worn off since you were talking more however; you were still somber and socially withdrawn. That would change once the plane landed. He would make sure of it.

Speaking of. Landing was less stressful since you knew Joker was more than capable of operating the plane.

He gave you some (insert favorite snack) and a bottle of water about halfway to the island and you looked on in amusement as he inhaled four Frosted blueberry PopTarts straight from the box. You hoped whoever flew the plane next didn't care about crumbs and fruit filling smudged all over the controls.

Joker contacted the Vineyard's airport tower requesting permission to land and kept things professional using the plane's actual call sign this time. Apparently he knew when to be serious. Within minutes, the Ground granted access and Joker landed the plane at the island's main airport.

He went through the final post flight procedures to power off the plane before rounding on you.

"Listen carefully Y/n." He didn't stutter or enunciate any words differently; he meant business so you kept quiet and listened. "From now on until we leave, don't say my name in public."

"But.. how am I supposed to address you?" You asked. He unbuckled your seatbelt and helped you out of your seat.

Such a gentleman. He yanked your co-pilot headset off your head, pulling your hair with it. When he wants to be. You mused.

"I'm your bodyguard. Your shadow. People don't talk to their shadows now do they? I do, but I'm far from normal, doll " He led you past the row of seats towards the cabin door. "If you need to address me, look me in the eye."

He pushed the door open and the afternoon sunlight entered the jet. You could smell the saltwater in the air but his request had you turning around. "How will you–"

Oh. Your eyes instantly met Joker's. The intensity of it threatened to burn you alive.

"I'm always lookin' at you, Y/n." He swept his arms down the stairs. "Ladies first."

Your heart swooned.

You ducked your head so he couldn't see the flush spreading on your cheeks and took the stairs one at a time in your pink Louboutin's. You stepped onto the concrete tarmac and placed a hand in your hair when a strong gust of wind blew.

It danced in your hair and played with the helm of your dress. To Joker, you were exquisite. He almost dropped the bags he carried down the stairs overwhelmed by your natural beauty. You were so unaware of it.

No one was around but that wouldn't last. Joker was sans makeup so he quickly donned sunglasses and his face mask from his back pocket to cover up. And right on time. He watched the car he had Frost call ahead pull up next to you.

You backed away from the unmarked Mercedes SUV even when the driver rolled the window down and recited a code to Joker. He responded back in kind and dumped the luggage in the trunk. Thankfully you hadn't noticed it yet.

He spotted you still standing off to the side and grinned. "Good girl. Never assume everything is under my control."

You did a double take at his concealed face. You didn't know how to respond so you just thanked him for holding the passenger door open for you.

He closed it and rounded the vehicle to speak to his henchmen. They exchanged a few words and to your confusion, they handed Joker a box of sorts before jogging up the plane's stairs.

They automatically retracted, closing the unknown goon inside.

Joker hopped in the car, narrowly avoiding hitting you when he tossed the parcel into the backseat and buckled in. You stole a peek at it, an unmarked recyclable brown box with clear tape. You heard the impact as it landed on the floor. It had weight to it.

"What's that?" Joker pushed the gear shift into drive and spared you a, don't ask, type of look.

"Okay..." You dropped it.

He jerked the car into motion and you quickly came to the conclusion that Joker was a reckless driver. You briefly considered offering to drive but you didn't know where to go. You rarely traveled outside of Gotham City since you moved there from Blüdhaven, but Joker drove the SUV around like he lived in Martha's Vineyard his entire life.

The bustling city portion of the island quickly turned into lush forests and two lane streets the further he drove. It was only a twenty minute drive but the ride was all scenic and you sat in the passenger seat in awe of the most affluent island in the East Coast. It truly lived up to its grandeur.

The pavement soon gave way to smooth gravel as Joker maneuvered the vehicle onto a private driveway. Nothing but greenery lined the long drive and it felt like the path was carved straight from nature. Just as you thought he turned down the wrong road, a house emerged from the foliage.

"Woah.." The acreage was massive.

Joker purposefully slowed down so you could take in the sight of the two story cottage style home peeking through the tree line. You saw the detached house and itched to explore.

You didn't waste any time and bolted from the SUV the second it rolled into park. The lawn was manicured and stretched into the surrounding forest but your feet carried you up to the front door, not caring about how it was already unlocked, to check the place out.

The main house was jaw dropping. Original wood beams lined the high ceilings and each big window offered up natural light and a taste of the picturesque landscape outside.

The kitchen was beautiful and distinctively vintage with its Robin's egg blue accents and natural wood finishes. Everything was polished and fresh to your senses. Someone obviously cleaned up in preparation for your arrival. By the time Joker caught up, you had already explored the main floor and terrace and kicked off your heels somewhere along the way.

The grass stained the soles of your feet as you took in a deep breath of serenity. This is what you needed. Just a moment away from the city and all of its heavy bog. You were still breathing in the fresh air when a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind.

Joker said nothing as he held you close and you leaned back on this broad chest, sighing. "How long can we stay here?"

A gust of wind blew and tousled your curls again. Joker tightened his grip on you lest you float away.

"Peak season hasn't started yeT. The current population is under thirty thousand ish, sooo we got all the, uhh, privacy in the world. At least for the weekend. Buuuut I can't stay away any longer from my errr, operations, doll."

You giggled at his exaggerated words and played with one of his hands wrapped around your middle. "Why not? You don't trust Frost to run the show for a few days?"

He lowered his voice in your ear. "Ex-act-ly."

You got the feeling that Joker never lowered his guard and had fun— and not his twisted version that involved murder. Did he ever stop and smell the roses? He was way too tense standing behind you; like something was gonna jump out and attack any moment.

"You never relax, do you?" You turned in his arms and cradled his cheek so he could look down at you.

With your heels off, Joker easily towered over you and the height difference made you feel safe. His words from earlier stuck with you.

"I'm your bodyguard." He was doing a fine job at it. Your e/c eyes dropped down to the mask he still wore and slipped it off of him. It was just you and Joker here; no need to hide.

He couldn't help licking his lips, now free to your gaze. "Never." He mumbled. "Except... when I'm with you."

Your creative mind took his confession and spun a narrative. Of course his brand of relaxation was removing his identity at the end of the day.

You doubted he removed his signature makeup before you two met like he does now. He explained he could go weeks at a time, just touching up the paint as needed, to keep up appearances. Now Joker went days without applying and it was definitely liberating.

Although the same man remained, Joker could finally relax and be himself.

He would have never shopped in a grocery store in broad daylight or entered a club of his own accord before he met you. You freed him in more ways than you'd ever know. He could let go and just be a man falling in lo—-

Joker sneered and pushed you away.

It wasn't like you two were having a moment or anything. You wrote it off as another one of Joker's unpredictable mood swings and caught your balance in the grass with no hard feelings. Joker had his back to you but you could hear him mumbling to himself about what to do with you.

Now who's the one distancing themselves? You thought wryly.

You knew he would need some time and turned back around to catch the afternoon sun sitting on the horizon. Everything felt more simple out here and you wished this could be the norm. In a few more days you would have to leave and return to Gotham and deal with book deadlines, the upcoming GothCon, and countless other matters again.

But for now, in this rare moment, you were simply Y/n enjoying a slice of paradise.

"Food. I gotta feed my Bunny. Yeah, food is a good idea." Joker nodded to himself before addressing you. "So whaddya say we grab a bite and uh.. go from there? Hey. Y/n?"

He stumbled down a mental rabbit hole but now you were lost in one of your own.

He kept quiet and studied you instead. Your eyes were closed and the golden sun reflected off of your skin in the best way, but Joker couldn't think so freely. Not after he almost said that word.

His emotions almost got the better of him. You almost made him fall. He couldn't afford to think like that, especially considering the circumstances. Five months. You can't get attached to her. He vowed to himself.

But he already was. Just one look and he couldn't resist your magnetic pull. He said your name and you instantly gave him your undivided attention. He looked at you expectantly.

"Oh! Okay y-yeah let's go then. Don't forget I wanna visit the pier once it gets dark."

Like he could forget the sole reason he flew four hours. The things he did for you. You walked up to him with a faint smile on your lips.

The day wasn't over yet and you were almost back in good spirits. Maybe this trip was exactly what you needed after all.

Dinner with Joker was straight out of a romance novel.

The restaurant was busy even during pre-season and it forced Joker to fall back as you requested a table for two with extra private seating on the balcony.

GCN broadcasted Joker still being at large daily and you didn't know if that coverage made it to the other states or not. Regardless, it made you paranoid to have him out in public but he brushed off your concern with an eye roll. He was in full disguise in a completely different state.

He was more concerned about Two Face hunting you down than Batman catching him. There was a time and place for that concern and it wasn't here at the dinner table with you.

The food was delicious, fresh seafood caught from down the road and the service was beyond excellent (even if you knew Joker somehow bribed them beforehand).

Sometime after the appetizer was ordered, he took off his mask and acknowledged your presence. He would turn his head away anytime a server came to the table but swiftly returned his focus back on you once they left.

Joker lived up to his name and kept you laughing well until the sun began to set. From his point of view, you were absolutely stunning, backlit by the sunset with your natural curls dancing in the sea breeze and that dazzling smile of yours shining brighter than the twinkling lights overhead.

Any negative thoughts that originally poisoned your mood were long gone. You were back to being the awkward, yet joyful Y/n that he knew and lov—

Sigh.

You made it so easy for him to let go! Joker tried so hard to pretend he wasn't out wine and dining the most beautiful woman in the world and making her laugh at his stupid jokes. He tried so hard.

He couldn't fall into this fantasy where things were perfect and normal with you. It would only hurt in the end when he had to leave, but it felt so right to (for once) be a normal guy out enjoying a girl's company.

No madness, no crime; just you and him.

You slid your hand across the table into Joker's. "What happened next? You gotta tell me!" You asked, still laughing.

He almost forgot the end of the story after hearing your bell-like voice tinkling in his ear. What was he saying? "I uh..

"Hold that thought, the check is here." You expressed your gratitude to the waiter who came by with the bill. You were about to open it when Joker snatched it out of your hand.

"J—" You slapped a hand over your mouth for almost saying his name aloud. He arched an eyebrow and kept the check out of your reach. "G-give that back."

He glanced at the bill and reached into his back pocket to grab a wad of money.

You looked on in bewilderment as he rounded to the nearest dollar and shoved the total inside along with a hefty tip. You didn't know he was carrying cash and.. so much at that. Your poor debit card felt useless sitting in your purse now.

"You uhh wanted to see the beach?" He asked out of the blue. A glance at your phone put the time around nine o'clock. "Yeah, but it's still early." You replied.

"What time are ya planning this nightly escapade of yours hmm?"

Good question. You brought a finger to your chin in thought. Joker groaned out loud at your lack of foresight.

"By the time we get there it'll be dark Y/n. We should go back to the house so you can ahh.. change. Can't visit the beach dressed like that."

He wiggled his fingers in your direction and you looked down at your attire in confusion. "Like what?"

"Like a fuc— ahem. Li-ke a doll." He sucked in a breath, "The heels.. the heels can stay."

You scoffed and sat further back in your chair. "Just the heels huh? You got a foot fetish I need to know about?"

He stared at your dainty feet wrapped up like a literal present in your designer shoes. "If it's your feet thennnn, yes."

You laughed outright. His logic was so elementary at times it was ridiculous. "Unbelievable."

Joker caught himself smiling along. He had no shame making another joke at his own expense.

"What can I say? I'm a man of.. distinguished taste. And I loveee sweets." He made a show of licking his lips and eyeing your body.

The innuendo made you flush garnet red. There wasn't a quick comeback queued up in your brain so you dug your own grave saying, "Why don't you order dessert then?"

"Oh I did, Bunny. I'm taking it to-go." He took one last sip of his drink (sighing loudly of course) before standing up and offering you his hand. "Are ya ready to go?"

Smooth. Real smooth.

You chuckled lowkey to yourself but let Joker be a gentleman and help you up. You heard him curse when you bent down to grab your bag that you purposefully dropped on the floor.

Joker wasn't the only one who could be a tease. He was onto your schemes by the time you straightened up with a coy smile. Yeah, you were back to normal.

Riling Joker up was like waiting for a bomb to go off. You knew it would blow, you just didn't know how massive the explosion would be. Or when the timer would hit zero.

He put his mask back on and walked with you to the entrance to retrieve the SUV from the valet. He didn't give them a chance to hold your door open, that was his job thank you very much!

"Your chariot awaits, Princess."

He said it so loud almost everyone outside heard but it was a mere whisper to how loudly Joker smacked your behind.

The motion helped you up into the vehicle with an adorable flush to your complexion. Joker winked at the speechless valet attendant before getting in the car as well.

Provoking Joker was definitely worth the risk. Too bad his bomb was far more destructive than what you anticipated.

Joker teased you the entire ride back to the house. He held your thigh, squeezing way too close to your heat that it ached and he used both hands to turn the wheel right as you whimpered in need. The lingering heat from his hands burned more than anything.

He didn't spare you at stop signs either. He would call your name (and like an idiot) you faced him, only to have his lips faintly brush against yours in a phantom kiss. By the time you tried leaning in to claim your prize, he would abruptly accelerate and laugh at you scrambling in the passenger seat.

You slowly acclimated yourself to his horrid driving skills. At least it wasn't as terrifying like Frost's. Did they learn how to drive together? You shuddered at the thought.

Joker saw you shudder and wondered what you were thinking about but kept quiet as he turned down the house's private driveway.

"You're seriously forcing me to change. Into what? I don't have any clothes because someone didn't tell me I was spending the weekend out of town!" You yelled after he turned the car off.

He raked a hand through his hair, a clear sign of his irritation yet you stood your ground. All of the island's stores and boutiques were closed, leaving you no other choice but to keep what you had on.

He had enough and turned to face you. "When you twist your uhh ankle? I don't wanna hear you complaining' mkay? And I'm not carrying you." He added before you could open your mouth. "I mean it." He growled.

The low baritone sent shivers down your spine. "F-Fine! You wanted me to keep the heels on anyway. It's a win-win situation all around." You tapped the clock on the dashboard. "It's getting late. I want to see the pier now."

You were asking for it now. Joker cracked his neck and turned the SUV back on to drive you to the beach. He'd fix your bratty attitude later. Who wanted to visit a beach at night anyways? And people thought he was crazy. You bounced in your seat as if proving his point further.

When he finally arrived at the Moshup trail parking lot, you could hear the ocean crashing onto the rocky shore louder than ever. You wanted to see it for yourself and moved to open the door when it auto locked. "Joker.."

"Look at me." You heard that voice before. Assertive, serious, and a bit scary if you were being completely honest.

Joker didn't mess around whenever his voice lowered the way it did. You felt his hands tremble as he cupped your face. "I... I reallly don't want you hurtin' yourself okay Bunny?"

You could barely see his green eyes pleading with you with the car lights off. Just like on the plane earlier, Joker was serious and it scared you with how desperate he sounded.

Your safety really mattered to him. You nodded slowly. "Okay. I-I'll be careful."

Ten minutes later...

Joker sighed to himself watching you prance around the beach while holding your long discarded pink heels in his hands. After you tripped on a rock, he ripped them off your feet in anger, going on about you never following his instructions.

Whatever. You were now free to run as you pleased. Not a single person was around due to the late hour but you wouldn't have it any other way.

The moon was the only natural source of light save for the rotating beam atop the lighthouse a few yards away. It stood proudly amidst the cliffs, a true beacon in the night. It was the exact scene you described to Joker back in Atlanta. The rocky cliffs, the pitch black ocean crashing every odd minute or so against it, and the briny taste on the breeze. He stood by as you spun in circles and tossed sand in the air like a freaking kid.

He could get used to this.. to seeing you happy. Joker looked away for a mere second but his eyes immediately found you when he heard your loud peal of laughter. You were dancing in the moonlight to music only you could hear and he was totally transfixed by it. You looked so carefree, so innocent; he wanted a piece of this to remember him by.

He was glad he brought the Polaroid camera he found in the house here. It was the perfect tool for the job. Joker called out your name over the waves. You turned to face him the exact second he took the picture.

You shied away from the delayed flash and jogged over to his side. "Joker, what are you up to now?"

He waited until the photo printed and shook it a bit to help speed up the development process. It was grainy and incredibly dark, but the nearby lighthouse did well to highlight your frame enough.

In short, Joker captured the ultimate moody photo of you.

He could make out your wild curls framing your face and a hint of your eyes staring straight into the camera if the photo were more clearer. But your smile was and that's all that mattered to Joker.

You didn't know what to expect when you nuzzled into his side but a dark dud wasn't it. "Aww it didn't come out that good." You tapped the pic.

"No. No.. it's perfect." He hadn't looked up from it yet.

"Uhh.. don't you think it's way too dark?" You critiqued. That wasn't what Joker saw but he couldn't summarize it better himself. He finally looked at you with a crazed gleam in his eye.

"That.. haha! That's the point, Y/n! The beach is dark but only you stood out. Just you. You're.. you're glowing.. from within. You're. You. Only you.."

Joker's speech was slurred as if he were drunk. He dropped the camera unexpectedly to kiss you. You gasped in shock but knocked Joker's hat off so you could bury your hands into his brownish green locks. You stumbled back in the sand as Joker pushed forward in his fervent pursuit.

Joker's kisses were always electric however you felt every fiber of his being— morphing with yours, here and now. You felt his desperation, his primal need to have you close, in this messy clash of lips and tongue. Moans and short whines escaped you as Joker swallowed them up to claim your lips with his own.

He broke away with a guttural groan. "You're the light in the darkness." He mumbled on your lips. "My light."

You were speechless. Your ears heard his confession loud and clear but your heart was lagging far behind.

Joker sounded so sincere as he held you tight, (almost too tight), while his forehead rested on yours. You never heard him so out of breath before but sure enough he was struggling in more ways than one.

He muttered something under his breath and dropped to his knees right there on the sand. It took you ages to process that action for what it was.

"J-Joker what are you... mmfph!" He shoved your dress up and bathed your midsection with affection.

"I ahh.. I don't think w-we should um d-do this here." Despite the uncertainty in your voice, your hips bucked into his touch even as you glanced around for any prying eyes.

He knew your reservations and chuckled. "It's a private.. beach.. Y/n." He teeth grazed your hip bone before he glanced up at you. "Baby doll.. look at me." You felt his nails dig into your inner thighs begging for attention.

No one was around. You had to trust him. You looked down and all you saw was a kaleidoscope of green staring at you with utter devotion. From Joker's perspective all he saw was a goddess bathed in light, blessing him with everything and nothing.

"You're the light. My.. light. Mine. So beautiful and all mine." He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and tugged your panties down with his teeth.

He had to be high or something. Maybe his dinner was spiked because there was no other explanation for Joker's sudden behavior. He was acting like a sinner reborn between your legs and kept chanting your name along with variants of 'his Light' in between hot, airy moans.

You had seconds to grab ahold of Joker's shoulders before he sucked your clit like a man starved. It took every ounce of your strength to stay upright as Joker worshiped your body and doused your soul in desire.

As the dark ocean waves crashed against the shore; so did you in like manner.

Flashbacks from the night danced across your mind as steady, lulling arms carried you into the house.

You were in and out of consciousness, between the past and the present, but you could still see a pair of eyes darker than pine hovering above you. The urge to touch, to feel his skin pressed against yours outweighed the fact he was pining your wrist into the sand.

Indescribable pleasure possessed your body and your lover's grip tightened as a result. Over the roaring waves you could hear his broken voice straining in your ear, desperately pleading with you to understand his decree.

"My light, all mine.. You... you complete me.."

You prayed he was telling the truth.

Joker pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, mindful not to jostle you too much and wake you up.

You were out for the count yet you never looked more breathtaking. Cheeks still flush from your orgasm and hair askew, his eyes roamed your features as he gently laid you down on the bed.

Joker could admit that he went overboard this time but something in the air clouded his senses and he couldn't stop once he started. You tasted so sweet and your screams of pleasure were like music to his ears. He took great care not to ruin your dress, (he loved it wayy too much) and used it as a blanket of sorts against the grainy sand. You were too precious to damage, he knew that now.

Something changed between you and Joker on that beach. Something catastrophic.

Joker made sure you were tucked into bed and this time, he remembered to put your bonnet on but found himself tracing your parted lips with his thumb.

He drew back when you moaned his name in your sleep. Your hot breath on his skin stirred up his desire for you again. He chose to creep away to make a phone call and allow you to rest. The original plan was to spend the night here and fly back to Gotham the following morning, but after his.. revelation, he couldn't leave. Not now.

There were things that needed to be addressed here. Joker couldn't leave until you and him talked it out. No more running away. He had to redraw his boundaries and reset his ground rules with you in the equation. And that would take some time.

The phone picked up on the third ring and for once Joker let Frost speak first. "Did something happen?"

"No. You see, there's been a uh... change of plansss. Keep the others from, uhh, killing each other? I'll be back on Monday."

Frost began pitching a fit right as Joker hung the phone and turned it off for good measure.

Frost could hold things down for three days. This would be the perfect exercise to test Frost's leadership skills! Joker considered it a vacation, long overdue.

Once his contact with the outside world was officially cut off, Joker stripped down bare and crawled into bed with his ray of Light.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #black!fem!reader #heath joker #joker x y/n #joker smut #reader insert #yandere #Long Reads #a03 writer #romance #angst #cross posted on AO3 #cross posted on wattpad #his lighthouse

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eagna-eilis · 8 months

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The metaphysical mechanics of Anakin's Force Ghost are the single biggest mystery of the period between RotJ and TFA to me.

If he can Force Ghost, or at least sometimes, then what governs what he can and cannot do, and who he can or cannot speak with?

If he can appear to others the way Obi Wan, Qui Gon, Yoda, and eventually Luke can, it makes very little emotional sense unless something is blocking him.

I like to think that Anakin, in death, had enough respect for Leia not to appear to her. His actions killed her real mam and dad, the people who raised her into a kind, strong person with integrity in every step. He tortured her, he destroyed her homeworld and her culture. He wouldn't be so stupid as to think that a nice father-daughter chat would solve everything.

I like to think that he loves her from an observational distance, and brims with pride at every step she takes for the galaxy that he injured gravely and so nearly destroyed. So like Padmé, her justice-seeking Naberrie qualities nurtured like rare orchids by Bail and Breha, who were themselves so principled and just. Anakin might also see the ways in which she is not like any of the senators or royalty who made her who she is. He might want to take credit for the parts of her that are so brave, so impassioned, so willing to challenge any authority she sees as unworthy or unjust. Obi-Wan told her, when she was very young, that this was her inheritance from Anakin. But Leia doesn't want anything from him, and he understands. So he spends time watching, in grieving pride, at what his daughter became in spite of him.

I also like to think that at a certain point he would have to try, if he could, to intervene in what was being done to her family. In my heart there is no version of a redeemed afterlife Anakin who does not try to save another Skywalker child from what he went through.

He would have tried to materialise, blue-aura-lit and kind eyed, into the living room of a Chandrilla apartment, to try to soothe the terror and discomfort of a tiny child levitating cambiblocks and breaking glass in distress. He has far more experience with child murder than child rearing, but by the Force he'd damn well TRY.

It probably wouldn't work, and I think some of us fans (esp those who love the sequels or those who are more interested in the Skywalkers than the Disaster Lineage as a family) deserve to know why.

Why, in my headcannons, does Anakin spend years trying to send thoughts of 'no kiddo that isn't me, I'm me, your grandpa, and I can tell you that your mom and dad love you so much and that those other voices are full of bantha-poodoo, please trust me, please believe me, please hear me' out through the Force, only for them to never find their way to their intended recipient?

Why can he not appear to Leia and say, 'I know you don't want to talk to me and I don't want you to have to endure the distress of talking to me but it's about your kid. I can't make the past alright, but let me please give you the information you need to stop the cycle repeating'.

Why can't he warn Luke? 'There's a storm coming and the lightning is not natural. You have seen that lightning before, standing right by my side, and it comes from the same source. Our nephew dreams things that are not his own. Consider striking him and you will doom the world, but also our family. Don't let the Darkness guide you, its only goal is to make more Darkness.'

There are several potential answers, of course.

The first is that Anakin can get through but nobody listens. It's a steady stream of 'stay away from my child, stay away from my academy, don't corrupt our future with the evil of the past'. This option reflects negatively on Luke and Leia, but it also feels true to traumatised families. I'm a firm believer in the fact that Luke, Leia, and Han as having unwittingly done poorly by the next generation of their kin does not 'ruin' their characters, it makes them more sympathetic and human, and so it doesn't upset me if this is the option. It's bad parenting and good storytelling.

The most obvious answer is of course, Palpatine. He can block Anakin's access to the likes of Luke, Leia, and Ben. This means that a dead Palpatine is still torturing a dead Anakin. Excuse me while I cry for a thousand years. Now either this means that Palpatine thinks Ahsoka is small potatoes and it doesn't matter if Anakin can see her in the WBW, or that Anakin could only communicate with Ahsoka BECAUSE she could enter the WBW. So, considering that the Ahsoka show takes place after 'Last Shot', it still makes no sense that Anakin doesn't go 'please see what's going on with Leia's kid, I'm worried about her and about her lil guy.'

The third option is the one that I find genuinely upsetting. Not in-world upsetting, but what-are-they-doing-with-our-story upsetting. It's also the one I find the most likely:

DLF in general and Favroni in particular are pushing Disaster Lineage out in front, and trying to sublimate the Skywalkers. I see Ahsoka as Anakin's sister, and I don't think it is inappropriate for him to love her the same way he loves his children, his grandchild, or his brother Obi-Wan. It makes emotional sense for him to reach out to her, and love is not a finite resource.

But a set of wider storytelling choices is highlighting that the most important inheritance of the story is Yoda to Dooku to Qui Gon to Obi Wan to Anakin to Ahsoka to maybe Sabine, or Jacen Syndulla. I feel in some ways that shifting Anakin's attention, or the context in which we encounter him, may give the audience a sense of the greater legitimacy of the Disaster Lineage to the long term future of the galaxy.

I have ZERO problem with this being the thread by which Force training is maintained in the GFFA through the sequels and into the post-sequel era. I prefer it to watching my beloved Rey of Jakku doing it all alone.

I have a HUGE problem with the idea that we may never get more Skywalkers in context with one another. And more importantly, the idea that we really shouldn't care about what happened to them after Return of the Jedi. That the sequels don't matter.

Anakin is the greatest silence in the sequels. I suspect that they didn't get Hayden back because they were still nervous of prequel hate (sweet summer children that they were, not knowing that the penis-brains were gunning for them, too). Many of us hoped that the New Republic Era TV series would inflect upon the ST the way that Clone Wars inflected upon the PT.

So far it really hasn't.

#star wars meta #ahsoka spoilers #anakin skywalker #sequel trilogy meta #sequel trilogy #ben solo #skywalker family #leia organa #princess leia

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yeyinde · 2 years

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TEETH | Michael Myers

blood fest 〉 week one

You can't say it wasn't, in its own way, thoughtful.

Or: Michael brings you a gift

WARNINGS: mild gore, mild sexual themes, mild violence, Michael being Michael, gender neutral reader (but mild feminine adjacent language used extremely briefly), slight Dom!Michael

KEYWORDS: Wicked. Rain

NOTES: i left the version of Myers (OG, RZ, Peepaw) extremely vague so you can pick your own Michael poison.

this is also my first writing challenge. i hope you enjoy 🖤

He comes to you covered in blood that's rarely ever his own.

The veracity of that statement has become ingrained inside of you to where you have quickly learned to stop worrying, to stop fussing over him, whenever you round the corner, and catch sight of the man in your foyer drenched in ichor, and dripping gore on the carpet.

It's not quite a routine, but it's – something.

Not rare enough to be considered sporadic. Not frequent enough to be anything quotidian in your life. His visits linger somewhere in the unspoken fringes. A truism, yet hardly anything banal.

(A visit from the boogeyman could hardly ever be considered commonplace.)

While the biblical rain this weekend has washed most of the viscera away, he's still soaked in it, covering every inch except his latex mask. It's almost preternatural how it manages to stay free of blood, of carnage.

He shakes his head like a giant, wet dog, splattering pink droplets of diluted townsfolk over your living room. Your mouth knots when it lands on the new cream-coloured Sherpa throw you bought, but you have enough sense to say nothing about it.

It's not like he'll listen, anyway.

He has a remarkable ability to hear everything and yet absolutely nothing at the same time. Cherry-picking. You say, don't get blood on the linoleum, and he hears it as get blood all over the linoleum.

Or maybe he just purposefully ignores you, and does what he wants.

(That one is far more likely than the rest.)

You bite your tongue, saying nothing. He won't care, and it certainly won't stop him the next time he comes.

The pat-pat-pat of something hitting the floor draws your eye to his hands. His bloodied fist is clenched loosely by his side. The awkward, bulging shape of it makes you wonder if he hurt his palm.

"Are you–?"

His hand lifts, a meandering incline until it's pitched in front of you, unwavering. You gawk at the blood soaked knuckles in your face, uncomprehending, and then up to him. He gives nothing away. Bland impassivity colours the crescent outline of his eyes through the tenebrous holes of his mask. Blank. Unbothered.

"Michael, I don't know what you want."

His head tilts, chin dipping in a way that means you've displeased him. He's impatient now. Surely, his wordless, confusing actions are enough for you to interpret.

You huff, rolling your eyes back down to his outstretched hand. Something about his palm. He has something in it. He's trying to give you something –

Ah.

Oh.

You shiver. Michael doesn't often bring gifts with him. It's only ever happened once before. Something you try – very hard – to forget.

He lingered in the doorway one evening, watching you at your vanity. You didn't think he was paying much attention to you; before when Michael watched you, you just thought it was a scare tactic. That he wasn't observant.

A mindless killing machine.

How wrong you were.

His eyes tracked the way you picked up the delicate opal earrings you'd gotten from your parents that year, sliding off the brass back with care before dropping it on a cloth to keep it from running off. His gaze never waved when you tilted your chin, fingers tugging on your lobe to line the post up with the hole. Slipping it in with a small wince when it caught on your tender skin. Reaching for the back to keep it in place.

He watched as you marvelled at the pretty gem in your ear before doing the same to the other one.

It was easy to mistakenly believe he was just there, looming as always. Or maybe it reminded him of something his mum used to do. Whatever it was that ensnared his attention, it didn't matter much to you.

You forgot all about it until he came back with his first gift. A pair of earrings.

(With the ears still attached.)

You shudder. "Oh… um…"

How do you refuse the gift of a serial killer without becoming his next victim?

You don't. You can't.

Swallowing thickly, you try to peer into the eyeholes that fix themselves to your face, catching every glimmer, every expression, that passes. The abstruse abyss reveals nothing. Impatience radiates off of him. If presence alone was a physical thing, Michael Myers' might just suffocate you.

It's a struggle to hide your grimace, the horror at what you might uncover, but it's all for nought. He catches it, anyway. His chin tilts again, lowering so that he can see into your eyes.

You're not an expert at reading his body language, but you managed to pick up on a few of his idiosyncratic behaviours with each visit from the boogeyman. He's curious. You might even go so far as to proclaim him amused. Luridly so.

Each shiver, tremble, wince, and shudder you give is observed with this slight decline of his chin. You can't even begin to understand how he ticks – Michael Myers is an enigma to you – but you know he enjoys your fear. He likes catching you unawares, likes it when you jump at his sudden appearance.

It's a truism, now.

One that often ends with you underneath him, bracketed by his thick, firm biceps, hands perched as close to your temples as possible. Sometimes, if you've greatly entertained him, he'll wrap his hand around your throat, almost purring as he stares down at you, watching your soundless gasp, the way you claw, futility, at his wrist. He likes when you struggle. Likes when you give him the opportunity to chase you. To hunt you down.

It's effortless for him to haul you back where he wants you, slamming the end of the blade into the end table, right where you can see it. Always within your periphery. And then he takes you. Bites your neck, and collarbone. The inside of your wrist. Thighs. All marked with the impression of his teeth, stained in a ring of black, and leaking blood onto the sheets. He'll press your raw thighs to his hips, holding them there so you can feel him grazing the irritated flesh with each controlled, brutal thrust into your body. It makes you yowl, an amalgamation of pain and pleasure wracking through you with such visceral intensity that you often sob into his shoulder, clutching his wrist in a desperate attempt to get some respite. Some reprieve.

It never comes. You're his conquest—a prize for him to take, to claim.

He likes your pain too much to stop. Enjoys the bloodied mess he makes of you. Likes, even more, when he pries your aching thighs apart, head cocking to the side as he watches his release seep out of you, joining the blood that soaks the sheets below.

Michael takes. And takes.

It's very rare that he ever gives.

Another shudder rolls through you, eyes fluttering at the memory of his last gift, and how he sought gratitude from your body after.

(There's a hole in the drywall from where he slammed you, a touch too hard, into the wall with the brutal way he pounded you, bloodied earrings dangling from your ears.)

Michael huffs. The noise is amplified by the mask's acoustics, a ragged exhale. He's waited long enough, it tells you.

You can't stall any longer.

You don't bother trying to hide your grimace when you slide the cup of your palms under his fist, feeling the steady beats of the blood dripping onto your skin. Another steady huff. Amusement. He relishes your disgust.

His gaze never strays from you when his fist unfurls, fingers splaying wide. He watches, dark eyes boring into your own as you feel the first clump of whatever he's given you fall into your palm.

You hold his eyes for a moment longer, unwilling to look down and see what small objects he's brought you. It's better to look into this cerulean abyss, into the gaping maw of a monster, than it is to see what awaits below.

But Michael tires of your avoidance. He's eager for you to see.

It's only when his head leans forward, lids lowering only slightly, do you break the intense stare.

You can't quite make sense of the little clumps in your palm, or the ones that slowly loosen from the congealed blood on his hand, falling into yours. They're small, white.

Pomegranate seeds. He's giving you fruit.

Oh.

You begin to smile, wondering when he had the time to flesh the fruit, and why he kept it clenched in his hand for so long, but it fades quickly when the last one falls from his palm.

The blood has mostly dried, and the object sitting on the top of the pyramid has little covering it. There is no mistaking what his gift is.

Michael lowers his hand, letting it fall to his side. He doesn't clench his fists, he keeps them half furled. Relaxed.

But the look in his eye belies the bland nonchalance of his countenance.

His gaze is unyielding, rapacious. Hungry.

In your palm sits teeth.

Human teeth. Some of them are still attached to the roots, and from the indents on his first knuckles and fingertips, you can easily surmise that he wrenched them out of the jaw with that very hand. You swallow hard, bile rising up your oesophagus. Guilt, terror – both spume in your chest, a dizzying, almost noxious compound that nearly smothers you with its unparalleled rue.

But why? Why teeth?

It clicks, then, when the lightning outside the rain drenched window catches on the flash of gold on one of the incisors.

Michael sees everything. Notices more than you might expect.

He is always watching you. Always. He's there, lurking, hiding in the shadows. At first, you thought he was just terrible at stalking. You could see him, you knew he was there.

It was only when he disappeared from your periphery that you realised all those times when you saw him across the street, standing half hidden behind the door frame, garish mask catching in the black of your television as he lurked behind you, it was intentional. Michael wanted you to see him. To know he was there.

You relaxed when he was gone, thinking he must have gotten bored and wandered off. The tension in your posture dissipated. You greeted the locals, the guilt of having him waiting for you at home was gone. It was easier to breathe without his presence suffocating you.

One man, in particular, approached you after your shift finished. You smiled at him. He grinned back, gold tooth gleaming in the ochre sunset.

It started innocuously. An older man stopping you to speak wasn't uncommon. It was nothing that hadn't happened before. You listened, a brush impatient, as he introduced himself, and asked if you wanted to get a drink.

You're cute, he grinned again, leaning against the door of your car. I wanna get to know you.

You didn't think when you responded. It was all routine. A polite, impassive smile, slightly strained around the edges, eyes demuring to show your feigned contrition. Sorry, I have a boyfriend.

Sometimes it works. They raise their hands, a little disappointed, and nod in understanding, respectful of your choices, and comprehending of your unavailability.

Sometimes, however, it doesn't.

He doesn't need to know. A wink. A cloy smile. I don't see him anywhere around here, anyway.

You lost count of all the ways you said no without actually saying the word, too afraid of causing a scene, or of being noticed. You didn't want that kind of attention when your house was a steady crime scene, and a myth lurked in your foyer, eating all your cereal.

Your smile waned. Please, I'm not interested.

You get it now.

He scared you. With the wolfish grin, the firm hand he kept on your car door, the way he invaded your space, intentionally bringing himself closer and closer to you until your bodies were a scant hair away. It forced you from the handle. You kept taking a step back, away from the safety of your car. The gleam in his eye was wicked; his intentions vile, disgusting.

His hand closed around your jaw, squeezing until your mouth opened. When the flash of your teeth was revealed, he smirked. There ya go, smile more for me, hon. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, making you tremble.

You only escaped when the security guard wandered around the corner, giving you a chance to flee.

Michael is infinitely complex and entirely inscrutable. You can't really understand him, or how he ticks, but you grew accustomed to his peculiarities – and his sense of humour.

He's giving you the man's teeth – the same ones he used to smile at you, to scare you. Something that only Michael is allowed to do.

(You're sure, then, that somewhere in your house you'll find the man's hands. The same ones he used to touch you.)

His chin dips again when you smile, taking in the wobbly edge to it, the tension in your shoulders. Your voice catches in your throat, tremulous, drenched in the coalescence of your fear, your uncertainty, and your gratitude.

However wicked the boogeyman might be, however vile and evil, you can't ignore the thrum in your chest when he's near. You, paradoxically, feel safer under his gaze. Under him.

He holds his palm out to you again, waiting.

When he'd given you the earrings, you'd been shaken. Terrified. Unsure what to do, you kissed his hand.

It's become a thing, an expectation. Whenever he does something for you, he expects a kiss on his palm.

But –

It's covered in blood. Saliva. Gore.

You reach out, fingers curling over the thickness of his wrist – so much larger than your own – and pull his hand close to you. He watches, bland, expectant. His eyes – vacant, stormy – narrow when instead of pressing your lips to his flesh, you pull his hand up to your neck, setting his heartline flush against your thundering pulse.

It's a break in what has, unfortunately, become the norm, but his hand is slimy on your neck, reeking already of rot. You won't put your mouth there, where you can feel the pocks in his flesh from the teeth he ripped out with his bare hand on your skin. You'll show him your appreciation in another way.

(Hopefully, this one doesn't end with another hole in the wall.)

Michael considers this, his head angling to the side as he takes in the contrast of his bloodied hand and your smooth, clean neck. He tips it the other way. A new angle. A new thought.

A huff, then. He finds what he's looking for.

His fingers stretch out, thumb pressing into your jugular as the others curl around the nape of your neck, index finger settling behind your ear. His hand is massive. His grip is tight. Choking. You gasp weakly when the tip of his thumb digs into the small knob on your throat. Phosphenes spume across your vision.

Your hand barely fits around his wrist when you grab his flesh. You'll never get him to stop – you're not strong enough to ever dislodge him from your body; his grip is ironclad. Your bones are fragile in his hold. Holding him like this is to ground yourself. To find a strange, almost anomalous comfort in the steady thud of his heart beating against his pulse point. Touching him like this reminds you Michael is human, despite how much you believe otherwise. Flesh, bone. You find kinship in the warmth of his skin.

"Michael," you croak, head spooling with the thick gossamer of hypoxia. Tears flood your eyes at the pressure, the lack of air. "Thank you."

Your head hits the wall when he shoves you back, the bulk of his body nearly suffocating as he looms over you. His flesh is burning, his hand nearly searing the skin of your thigh when he grabs it, fingers digging into the plush give of your body. His grasp is harsh enough to bruise the bone. Your leg aches already. Throat throbbing from the force of his hold.

You're sure, then, that you won't be able to walk tomorrow much less swallow.

Michael is often mistaken as cold. Indifferent. Despite his vacant gaze, you can feel the heaviness of his desire curling over you; a thick haze of palpable hunger that leaks out of the bruising press of his body flushed against yours.

His other hand falls, fingers curling over your thigh. He lets you breathe for a moment, let's the anticipation simmer in your hazy stare until he's had his fill of it. Then, he squeezes. His fingers burrow into your skin, rupturing the capillaries under blood blooms under your flesh in the perfect replica of his handprint.

Michael hikes your thigh up, locking it around his hip, and drives into you with enough force to rattle the wall, shaking the pictures loose. They fall to the ground, shattering into pieces. The sound is dulled under the harsh, angry pants aerated from the holes of his mask; the cacophony of his want, his wild, untameable desire.

He towers over you. His wide chest expands with each deep, ragged inhale, filling your vision until nothing remains but Michael, and his unfettered hunger.

Desire and anger are one in the same with Michael. His fury reeks of his impatience to be inside of you; his need to cudgel into your body with thrusts that are too similar to the way he hunts, maims, to ever be a mere coincidence. He takes his aggression out in the softness of your flesh, leaving behind the brand of his claim. His ownership.

You'll never escape him. Never run from him.

His want for you is apoplectic. Your fate was sealed the moment you caught the boogeyman's interest.

(they told you, didn't they? don't let the boogeyman see you.)

His thumb moves from your jugular, huffing when you gasp for air, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as oxygen fills your lungs in a deluge. He's not gentle when he slides it across your skin, nail catching on the curve of your jaw, but it's as soft as he'll allow, as he's capable of.

Rotting blood is smeared across your skin. His eyes trace the trail, narrowing when the tip of his thumb hits the slope of your pouting lip.

You know what he wants. What he always wants.

And you can never deny him. You should have known better from the start.

Your jaw drops, lips parting for him.

All you get in response is another deep inhale. A bland acknowledgement. But the fever in his gaze nearly consumes you in its fire.

He wanted a kiss. Wanted to see your lips stained red with the fruits of his effort. You didn't allow him that.

So, he takes.

His thumb slips over the bump of your lip, resting the first knuckle on the fleshy bed, and he waits. He knows, now, that you will obey.

Your mouth closes without preamble, puckering around the tip of his thumb, catching the crimson congealing on his flesh where it sits like a macabre lipgloss on your skin.

You can feel his excitement as it bludgeons into your core, jerking at the gentle kiss. The hard thickness of him makes you whimper in response, lashes fluttering shut as a molten want gnaws inside of you.

He tastes of iron when your tongue laps over his flesh, and you find you quite like the taste.

His gifts might be macabre remnants of his unhinged carnage, leftovers from his icy warpath, his insatiable need to tear into flesh until the stench of death permeates in the miasma around him. You might be dragged along to the pits of hell for letting this untameable quietus into your home, your bed, your body, your heart, but when he ruts into you like he's starved for the feel of your flesh, you can't help but to take an ungodly amount of pleasure from the horrible things he gives you.

He takes. And takes. And when he gives –

He makes sure to let the world know it was him, and him alone, who gave it to you.

It's awful. Horrible, even. Vile. Any number of debauched things. But despite the morality of letting a murderer fuck you senseless into a blood soaked mattress until you're screaming hymns in his name, you're already looking forward to the next gift he brings for you.

(You just wish he would give you something that wasn't still attached to a person.)

–its my personal headcanon that Michael Myers absolutely gets off on terrifying people, but no one more so than whoever catches his attention. Mikey likes you? you better prepare yourself because this man is going to psychologically torture you as a form of foreplay and/or courtship. but ONLY Mikey is allowed to scare you. that horror movie you watched that made you jump? you find it destroyed in your living room. better not go to a haunted house or you'll have a massacre on your hands.

–he also gives terrible gifts. tell him you like someone's shirt, well. he gives you the shirt. cute. but it comes with their torso. coo at some birds? you find bloodied feathers all over your porch. he's a menace. and make no mistake – he knows this absolutely terrifies you. he likes that.

Thank you for reading~

#SFBF #slasher files #slasher files blood fest #bloodfest #michael myers x you #Michael Myers #slasher x reader #halloween fic #michael myers x reader #rz myers #og myers #peepaw myers

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alienisticxo · 2 years

Text

Kismet

{Master Chief x Reader - One Shot}

{A╱N} i was listening to a very dramatic slowed and reverb’d song when this idea popped into my head. i myself am dramatic and constantly longing to have my consciousness uploaded into a sexy spartan until i die of rampancy, and so Kismet was penned.

a little backstory (because if i turned this into a series we’d be here forever, just look at 'Before the Fever'— but if you want that i can totally do that too!): you’re a human, kidnapped by The Covenant and integrated with the most advanced form of A.I. in the galaxy to become their own version of Cortana meets Spartan. *inhales.* but instead of using physical strength, you’re like a technological god. also you’ve managed to never learn Chief’s name somehow- that’s pertinent for this one lol. he’s just a Spartan to you, i guess.

i had pablo’s chief in mind as the main inspo for this, but i believe it can pair with either chief you prefer, because when I read it back to edit it, I kept hearing blue team chief, too.

no warnings here- its pretty tame. also on ao3♡

{gifs via j-elaine-hyde}

anyway, i hope you enjoy my odd little first person pov, completely non-canon idea. ♡

“All of this.. All that I create... It’s all that I am,” I whispered.

“You’re more than that,” was all The Master Chief murmured through his helmet, a gloved hand resting over my own against his armored chest.

It should’ve offered some sense of solace, some comfort to ease the pain. But all I could think of was the detriment I was to anyone and everything around me.

Our discreet confessions to one another were sudden, though they’d been a long time coming. Once the Treaty of 2552 was established, we worked closely with each other, The Spartan and his team often being sent to High Charity for various reasons.

As time ticked on and feelings progressed, it all became too much— got too out of hand. I wasn’t in a position to.. to fall in love.

He certainly wasn’t, either.

I shook my head, my frustration beginning to peak.

“And you know what I can do with it?” I continued despite his sentiment, my visage full of anguish as I tried to bring him to understand.

My hand trailed off of his chest as I slowly crossed toward the edge of the balcony, the absence of his hand over mine felt in the depths of my heart. The floor length dress I wore swept around my feet as I willed myself to stare at all that I had created in my manic fit to show him just what I was capable of.

Holograms with classified information, various technological objects, weapons and crafts, architectural creations and inhuman life forms I’d called upon— all stilled, suspended in midair. It looked as though there had been an explosion of code, the device that contained it disintegrating and forcing its contents into real time. The electricity, the vibrant awakening feeling that surrounded us was thick enough to taste. But looking upon the power I embodied held a hint of sorrow. Where I had normally been awash with pride, amusement, I was now engulfed in hopelessness.

In one swift movement, I raised my hand once more, hesitating, hoping to feel something, anything, that might stop me from what I was about to do. But even if that sensation ever had appeared, making my point to 117 was more important. He had to know the severity of my existence.

He had to.

And so, bringing my hand down again with force, I watched as everything I had created so quickly, so effortlessly, I destroyed just as easily. Earth shattering damage sprawling for miles beyond what I had just breathed life into. Lives were lost. Long time projects eradicated. It was only a matter of time before they questioned me, now.

Everything seemed to crumble before us— disappear in flecks of disembodied light, fracturing under the pressure of my own hand. The crackling and sparking sounds of every element before us sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me as it all fell apart. I left nothing in my wake but destruction and carnage. When I reached my end, when my programming started to falter, it would only get worse.

He had to know.

Not an ounce of guilt became me otherwise. I’d been billed as unkind, cruel, uncaring of any life, biological or artificial. I was a warning in and of itself. But this time, I had only done it to prove myself. To show The Spartan just how dangerous I really could be.

How could he not believe me after everything we’d been through? After all the battles fought and won? Why would he make me show him this way?

There was no way he had been so oblivious, no way he could trust me as much as he seemed to. Yet, he still seemed to hold out some kind of unspoken faith in me. It was more than anyone ever had.

And I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him. Everything I touched, I could erase… As though it never existed at all. I didn’t want to watch him make that realization. I couldn’t bear to see him turn around.

“I can destroy it all in the blink of an eye,” I maintained as though he couldn’t already see the proof; my voice soft, yet, emphatic with hurt.

My eyes grew glassy as I stared at the wreckage of what was left. Absorbing the situation I found myself in, I took a few steps backward, running my hands back through my hair. With an exhale, I gripped onto my roots, pulling gently as I dipped my head forward.

My hands were weapons, my mind the same. As much as I wanted him to be, as much as I wanted to keep him forever, he wasn’t safe with me. He never would be.

He never could be.

The galaxy seemed to spin around me as I felt a sob making its way through my chest. My knees hit the stone flooring, my face in my hands then. There was no concealing the devastation I felt; the disappointment. I’d never wanted for anything, let alone anyone.

It was so unfair, what they’d done to me; what I had become at the hands of The Covenant. It never bothered me before, to be a weapon, a leader. Useful only until imminent deletion once I was no longer needed. I had no idea the kismet set in place– what was written in the stars for me that laid ahead.

Teardrops fell from my eyes like stars burning into the atmosphere. But where I thought I’d hear them disappear, I heard The Master Chief’s footsteps nearing instead. The Mjolnir he wore rubbed together as he knelt down beside me, and there was a quiet hiss before his helmet was placed on the floor. I simply stared at the piece of armor, unable to will myself to look up, to look into the face of the man I had fallen in love with after all this time..

If I did, I would’ve completely sealed both of our fates.

We both knew that.

“Don’t let me do that to you,” I whispered through my emotion, staring only at the golden shield of the sturdy design. “Don’t let me do that to you.”

His hand slowly reached beneath my chin, gentle fingers tipping it upward and sideways to face him. It always surprised me how fragile he treated me despite the tough reputation that preceded him. I kept my eyes cast downward, not wanting to solidify things to the point of no return.

Not wanting to be the thing that kills him in the end.

For having been built into something so mechanical, so artificially augmented, everything felt so.. real, again.

“Look at me,” he said, his tone soft, a rare occurrence I’d only experienced in brief stolen moments alone.

My lip trembled, a warm tear rolling off of my chin. So badly did I want to, need to. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Despite everything they’d said about me, to me— I cared too much about The Master Chief.

“Please..” he asked again, an edge of desperation in his voice.

Swallowing hard, I squeezed my eyes shut, the wetness matting my eyelashes.

“{Y/N}…” he whispered, pleading with me.

That was something I’d never heard from him before. Something no one in the universe thought ‘The Demon’ was capable of, no matter what side you were on.

My heart, what was left of it, mercilessly pulled at me to oblige. Cautiously, very extremely slowly, as though it might somehow change the outcome of our destinies, my {e/c} eyes made their way upward. They fell on the Mjolnir that encased his strong frame; the number that he wore with pride on his chest.. the new sight of flesh on his neck, the way his jawline cut just above it, covered in stubble, his lips— slightly downturned from his own melancholy due to the circumstance.. his vibrant eyes…

Oh, his eyes..

I was completely and irrevocably captivated all at once, a willing victim to his stare. Wrapped up in all that he was beneath the helmet, it was clear we both knew just what we’d gotten ourselves into. The entire universe stood still the second our eyes finally met without the familiar barrier between us to keep the desire at bay. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.

Just him, and I.

There were a million stirrings to be felt, acted upon, but all I wanted was to get lost in the moment for as long as we possibly could. Before things got more complicated, before I succumbed to any malfunction within my code.

“Chief,” I whispered between another faint sob.

“John,” he breathed, a careful thumb running underneath my eye. “It’s John.”

“John..”

The faintest of smiles touched my lips at the sound of his name rolling off of my tongue. Even if I’d wanted to, there was no ounce of strength within any fiber of my being that would allow our eyes to part. He was the most beautiful thing, man, I’d ever had the honor of viewing. My heart hammered in my ribcage as his hand slid further along my jaw, trailing to the nape of my neck.

“There’s nothing I won’t do to fix this. To save you.”

Another thick tear rolled over my cheekbone.

“You can’t,” I murmured softly, my breath hitching in my chest. “There’s no saving me anymore.. This is all part of their plan. I’m.. I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in it. You have to go— save yourself.. They’ll assume you know too much.. They’ll turn on your kind again.”

It killed me to have to explain, to feel less than the mere human I used to be. Most of all, to attempt to let him go forever.

He shook his head, studying every curve and dip of my face as though he’d never seen another person before; as though he wanted to commit every piece of me to memory.

“If it has to end, I’d rather it be like this,” he stated. “At least I can try to help you.”

“You don’t always have to be so noble… You’ve done everything for the UNSC. For humanity. Think of yourself for once.”

“I am,” he began, his register low and gruff. “And I want you. No matter what that means.”

“They’re going to delete me, John,” I painfully reminded him.

His expression was hard, concealing more than I knew he’d ever let on to me.

“Not if I can help it.”

#master chief x reader #master chief #halo #halo fanfic #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic #pablo schreiber #halo tv series #halo tv show #halo the series #john 117 #reader fanfiction #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfc #pablo schreiber x reader

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anxietysslave · 2 years

Text

Dangerous Fellows X Klee like reader

(PLATONIC VERSION)

You are a child instead of an adult in this one. If you want the one where you aren't a kid, then here's that part: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/anxietysslave/691337857953136640?source=share

This was requested by @lilqi :)

Ethan:

-Honestly was so surprised- How could a kid make it through this nightmare with no one??

-Truth be told, the second he found you he was so protective- You're a little ball of sunshine that must be protected at all costs-

-Probably was so surprised when he watched you explode a zombie- Asked you where the bomb came from, and became even more confused when he heard you mention a vision and showed him the vision-

-Honestly, he just stopped asking after that-

-He'd be the type of guardian who's so protective of you, except he's a very quiet man. Except lots of head pats from him

Harry:

-A child?? In an apocalypse? Alone?

-Yeah, he was shocked- But at the same time; he was so concerned- Like what had you been through??

-Mans would instantly see you as his new child-

-Congratulations! You have been adopted by him now! Even if he finds your parents, mans is keeping you. He raised you, after all.

-He'd be the best guardian father you could ask for. He'd make the most of the zombie apocalypse and would try hard to take care of you.

-So when one day you just threw a bomb at him... Yeah, you've broken him-

-He asked so many questions. And asked even more when you explained it to him.

-God? Pyro Vision? What?

-Harry.exe.has stopped working-

-But in all seriousness, he'd try his best to find out more about these so-called visions. And you may be able to protect yourself, but that doesn't make him any less worried.

Lawrence:

-Oh boy... Yeah, this man is already crazy enough. :/

-When he saw you, it kinda reminded him of how he was when he was a kid and how his parents treated him. So he'll try his best to not like to act like them.

-Minus the overprotective-

-It's like everywhere you went, you can bet he's a few feet behind. If someone tries to hurt you, then they're gone- and if he finds your parents.... Well... Yeah, you're his kid now. No buts.

-At first he was so surprised that you had been alive for so long. But it shocked him even more when he saw how kind and clueless you were. How did you survive by yourself??

-So you can imagine how surprised he was when he watched you chuck a bomb- But at the same time, he's also thrilled. I mean... That can be used for a lot of things.

-Would demand you tell him how you did that. And if you tell him, yeah... He's going to give you so many rules to it. Like you can't use it more than a few times a day, blah blah blah- Definitely went on for over an hour about it

-He doesn't trust the others around you one bit. So if anyone gets too close... He's going to glare at them. Maybe take their life if it's not too suspicious.

-Just like the first part, he'd be so annoyed that he had to bomb-proof the basement. But would do anything for his new child.

-Seriously, someone smack some sense into him-

Eugene:

-A kid? Really? What was Lawrence thinking?

-Eugene was so annoyed about it- I feel like he dislikes kids with a passion. So now ones living with him... Yeah, not too impressed.

-He'd try to avoid you at any cost. But once he sees you become sad about it, he's quick to rethink that.

-He'd ask you how you survived so long, and once you tell him how, he'd be even more shocked- Like you can make bombs?? How???

-Would pretend to listen to the whole god and vision thing, but really didn't hear a word about it- He just didn't want to hurt your feelings-

-If he gets close to you and grows to love you, then you can expect him to take you into his care. But he still won't admit it

-He'd want you to call him a brother rather than a guardian or a parent. He feels old if you do that-

-If he meets your parents, he's going to demand why they left you alone. If they say they lost you, they're going to get smacked. If they say they didn't expect a zombie apocalypse, still gonna get smacked.

-Whenever no one's looking, he'd totally sneak you a snack and give you head rubs. Like you're too cute not tooo

-Remember when he asked you in the game if you wanted to run away with him? Yeah, this time he's not going to ask-

-Just one night, he has enough of Lawrence being so possessive, and all the drama. So he just walks over to you, picks you up, and carries you away. If you ask questions, he'll explain that he wants the best life for you. Not one that's so full of fear

-Boi needs a hug

Zion:

-A kid!? What the actual fuck!? How are we supposed to raise a kid when we barely have enough food for ourselves!?

-Yeah, not impressed at all. Would argue with Lawrence or whoever brought you in because not only are they low on rations, but raising a kid is already hard enough. Now there are zombies and famion involved?

-But would calm down once it's pointed out that you had no one before. Only a little-

-Would at first glare at you and be furious at you. But once he sees how adorable and kind you are, he eases up.

-He finally gets to know you more. And once he hears you can make bombs? Yeah, chaos-

-He'd ask you to blow up zombies, buildings, and prank the other people there. He'd have so much fun doing it too. Even during the lectures, he'd take full responsibility.

-You grew to be his favorite person in a short amount of time. Expect a lot, and I mean a lot of head pats. This man just finds your confused face so adorable-

-If he meets your parents, he'll full-on say that he's stealing you and you are now his child. No one can stop him. If they try, they'll get bapped

-Would ask how you do it, but it would go in one ear and out the other- So he gave up on asking questions after that

-Would definetly talk about legally making you his child. You're like the only ray of hope in his life-

-And since you're so young, he feels like you aren't like all those people who wanted him for his money. In fact, you never want to buy stuff anyways-

Judy:

-Has no problems with you being there once she sees you. She instantly goes into like protective parent mode. In fact, Lawrence's biggest threat is her-

-She'd have you stay in her room and would call them sleepovers. Would definitely stay up late with you and tell you stories of her life, or just some stories she's heard.

-Whenever she goes out on expeditions, she'd bring you back stuff she found. Whether it be some cool toy or some board game. She loves to see your face lit up with excitement.

-If she met your parents, she'd curse them out and then just pick you up and forge some adoption papers- Yeah, you're hers now

-She'd be the perfect mom for you. Do you need a shoulder to cry on? She's already leaning out. Need some food? She's already stolen like 10 snacks. Are you feeling tired? She's already set up the bed. Feel like a story? She's started it.

-Would love to give you hugs throughout the day. You're just too adorable, not too!

-If someone's yelling or if something's happening, she'd cover your ears and yell or attack whatever is causing it. You must be protected at all costs.

-And that's when you chucked a bomb-

-She was low key kinda sad that you didn't tell her any sooner. It could've come in handy for so many things.

-She wouldn't understand much about what you said, and may even think it's just something you were told and isn't true.

-But she wouldn't tell you that. :)

Scarlet:

-Got so mad when she first heard the news. But the second she saw you... Yeah, it changed real quick.

-Instantly became so protective of you. She also developed a sweet side just for you.

-If anyone dares to object to you staying there... You got a very, furious Scarlet.

-Everyone was so surprised by how fast she changed. She went from absolutely not to. This is my child. You better stay away-

-Would read you bedtime stories and make sure you're as comfortable as possible. Like you need extra pillows? She's sacrificing hers.

-She won't let you go on expeditions. Not with how young you are, and because they're dangerous no matter what. She may let you go on patrol as long as you're by her. Or Zion-

-She may not seem like she'd be a wonderful mother, but I believe she would be. 10/10 would recommend her.

-And the one day you pulled out a bomb and blew up a zombie... Yeah, you got the longest lecture ever. Why didn't you tell her??? >:(

-She'd ignore you for a couple of days- or brush you off. But if you become sad, she'll regret it and instantly try to make it up to you.

-She wouldn't ask about why you can make bombs. You're her new child and are important. That's all that matters to her.

Hailey:

-A child? Okay.

-She's a kind girl, so she'd instantly embrace the idea. And once she meets you... Yeah, you're her younger sister now.

-Also feels too old if you call her mother-

-But she'd be a wonderful mother. She's quiet around everyone else, but around you, she can talk for hours.

-She'd read books to you, would teach you everything she knew about the world, and would have long discussions

-You don't even need to respond. She just loves your presence-

-Would also give your head pats and rubs. But not in front of the others. She'd feel so embarrassed if they saw that-

-If she met your parents, she'd kindly ask them if she can be your older sister. They don't even need to claim her as their kid- If they say yes, she'll be so happy. If they say no, she'd point out how she was technically the one who raised you.

-Wouldn't be protective of you. She can't really fight, so she doesn't want to put the both of you in danger. But will not let you go on any sort of patrol or expedition.

-Was quite shocked when she saw you chuck a bomb out the window- But I feel like she'd know what the vision was and would be so proud that her younger sister was gifted. She'd compliment you so much.

-Still no patrols or expeditions tho-

Jay:

-Was so disturbed by the idea of a child. Like ew, don't you know they carry disease?

-Even when he saw you, he just ignored you. You could try to talk to him, and he'd pretend he couldn't hear you. If you tried to give him something, he'd turn away from you so you couldn't.

-But over time, he loosens up. Not enough to adopt you though- He's more the type who'll watch over you from the sidelines.

-He'd try to convince Lawrence to never let you go on expeditions. If Lawrence listens, then he'd be happy. If Lawrence didn't, then either he'd tag along all the time or he'd keep bugging Lawrence until he changed his mind.

-The first time he actually talked to you was when you used a bomb- He freaked out at first, thinking Zion gave you one, or you just found one lying around-

-Would instantly go into panic mode and would freak out at anyone who walked by- And once you explain you made it and that it comes from your vision, he'd just stand there and stare at you.

-He didn't understand a word you just said- All he knows is you're an arsonist

-Would talk to you more, but still not much

Sue:

-Would be so concerned about a child being out there by herself-

-Would also keep pestering you until you tell her how you survived like that. And once she finds out, she understands. She knows the smallest bit about visions, and then she knows you could be of use to her.

-At first, she may just think of you as extra protection. But over time, you become like her family. You are just so pure and full of life- She can't help but love you.

-She would read you anything and everything she can find. She'd actually be the one to teach you how to read and write.

-Would also not allow you to go on any sort of patrol or expedition. She knows you're capable, but that doesn't mean accidents can't happen. And she's not losing you.

-Since she's suspicious of Lawrence, she won't even allow you to be in a room next to that man- In fact, you're never allowed to even look at him.

-If Lawrence gets mad about that, then she doesn't care. You keep her safe, and she'll keep you safe. So Lawrence can kiss her ass. :)

-Would tell you that once they get out of this nightmare that she'll take care of you if she can't find your parents. And even if she finds them, then she'll still be family to you. If they don't like it, they can suck it. :)

-Got a question or need advice? Best women to go to. She'll answer anything and everything. And is so kind about it.

-She's not one for affection but will do her best to show you it. So please forgive her if she's a bit awkward.

Sorry, that's its short- This is my first ever platonic writing- But hopefully it's good and thank you for requesting it! :)

#dangerous fellows #headcannons #x reader #platonic

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dk-wren · 3 months

Text

My Thoughts on Mean Girls the Movie MUSICAL

(Taking a quick break from my usual postings to go back to talk a little bit about one of my other interests...musicals!)

I just wanna share some of my thoughts about the new Mean Girls movie, so I hesitate to really call this a review or a critique. First and foremost, gosh its marketing. Don't even get me started. I have so many questions, but that is not what I want to really focus on. I just needed to get it out of my system. Now, let's begin!

I consider myself a fan of the Broadway musical. Probably not to the extent where I would consider myself its #1 fan, but I did follow its journey to Broadway and any announcements that came during its initial run and tour. I have yet to have the pleasure of watching it live (only through a slime tutorial on YT). So, for someone like me who has listened to the cast recording and watched any live performances by the any of the Bway or touring casts countless time, I can at at least appreciate that this movie exists to deliver the musical aspect to a larger audience.

Jaquel, Auli'i, and Renee (maybe in that order?) are the standouts to me. I absolutely loved Jaquel and Auli'i as Damian and Janis. I honestly think I have nothing but good things to say about their performances and portrayals. And again, from hearing and seeing clips of Renee in the Broadway cast, I was so happy to hear she was cast as Regina George in this adaptation. If you haven't already listened to the movie's soundtrack, most of the songs from the musical were adapted to fit more of a pop vibe than the original Broadway style. While I am happy to have like an official version of Renee singing Regina's song, I felt like her voice was toned down a bit to fit this iteration of the music. Don't get me wrong, she still sounds amazing but I didn't feel like she was able to truly show off her musical theatre chops.

Also, on the subject of the soundtrack, I listened to it before seeing the movie. And can I say, watching it really makes a big difference. I had a lot of thoughts about "Fearless" and "Stop" being cut. But, it kinda makes sense since those are the Act 1 closing and Act 2 opening songs, which in a movie, is not going to have that break, or intermission. In this still being an adaptation of Mean Girls, you have the scene where Cady tells Regina she can no longer sit with the Plastics and is subsequently shunned from the rest of the cafeteria. It's there, there's just no song to accompany it. But, it did feel like the right call since I think that part of the movie would've started dragging if those songs were both kept in.

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"Where Do You Belong" is another song that was cut that I have mixed feelings about. I am still a little sad that it was cut, and I don't think it would've slowed down the pacing that much if left in. After watching the movie, while I can't say it was the right move to cut this song, it definitely didn't feel like there was something missing in this part of the scene. Now, this song leads into "Meet the Plastics" in the musical, which was significantly trimmed down for the film. It's kinda funny to me that the title is still plural when it's only Regina's part. In having this be the third song in the movie, and really the first one after the opening, there is a bit of power that inherently(?) comes with it in having Regina's entrance announced through song.

youtube

As I've seen others point out, two of Damian's songs were cut. So, I am really happy that they turned "Apex Predator" into a duet between Janis and him (rather than Cady and Janis). This is a change or perhaps addition that I really enjoyed. In the movie, this scene/song still takes place at Northshore High (with any mall scene being completely removed). Going along with the lyrics, the choreography resembles the musical in more ways than others, with the students acting like different animals. And it works but also it doesn't. The choreography definitely fits the lyrics. But that comparison between students as animals and high school as a savannah that is set up in "It Roars" does not happen because "What ifs" replaced "It Roars." As a result it feels a little weird (I hesitate to throw out the word cringey, but maybe a little bit). I'm familiar enough with the musical that I could tell they were definitely pulling from that number as it appears in the musical, but if I was not, I don't really know how I would feel.

The last song I'm gonna talk about is "What Ifs" replacing "It Roars." For the slight story adjustments that were made as to why Cady and her mom return to the US, the new song definitely works. It sets up Cady wanting to explore "normal" high school or teen life the same way "It Roars" does, but it supports the detail of Cady talking with her mom at some point about what she feels she is missing out on because they are in Africa (from what I could gather, the decision to move back to the US is much more driven by character interest or desire, rather than cut funding and becoming the only option). The vibe or style of this song also works well amongst the rest of the soundtrack, especially since I can't imagine "It Roars" translating that well into this new style.

For some smaller details that I really enjoyed, I really liked how (if I'm remembering correctly) when Karen is first introduced, she's wearing a necklace that has her name on it, but she's wearing it backwards (leaning into that "she is the dumbest person you will ever meet"). It was shown in a trailer or an ad, but during "Revenge Party," there is the section where Janis, Damian, and Cady try to embarrass Regina by turning on a sprinkler that will hit her (and ruin her makeup). I like how we see Ashley Park's character, the French teacher, try to mimic the "wet look" since it almost feels like an homage to her playing Gretchen in the musical, who is always described as trying to please or be just like Regina.

Everyone has their own opinions, so I can't say with confidence oh this type of person will love it or this type of person will hate it. But, I can say as someone who loves the musical, I really enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun and was generally smiling throughout the whole thing since in a way, this is the closest I've come to (and may come to) seeing the Mean Girls musical adaptation. Even then, this movie felt like it was trying to do its own take on Mean Girls and Mean Girls the Musical, and I'll give the directors and creatives credit, some of it really worked (and some didn't). I wanted to see this movie, but I was unsure how to feel going into it since I couldn't tell if it was going to be bad or decently/surprisingly good. And after watching it, my initial reaction is to lean more towards the surprisingly good, which makes me happy.

Go see it for yourself though and be your own judge! These are just some of my thoughts. Feel free to comment or share yours! Or ask me about any of my other thoughts about the film.

-Dakota Wren

#mean girls 2024 #spoilers?#mean girls musical #mean girls movie musical #my thoughts #Youtube

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kitkatt0430 · 1 year

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So I've decided to go ahead with watching the latest episode of the Flash. Spoilers below.

Blaine is such a fucking idiot. Wow. Like, that's how he's gonna break Caitlin's dead to the team? And has he considered, even once, that the version of Frost he brings back might not be the one he knew? Frost didn't meet him until after she split from Caitlin. The remnants of Frost in Caitlin - if there are any - may not have the first damn idea who Mark is. But what she will know? Is he killed her sister, that she sacrificed her life to save, in order to bring Frost back.

Oh wow, what a complete and utter moron, I hate Blaine so damn much.

Where's Hartley, I'm tired of the Snow plotline already.

Oh, there he is. Flirting with his boyfriend and they're adorable. Oooh, do Hartley and Roderick own this club? The flirting made it sound like they do. Or at least Hartley does. He and Roderick being adorable together is so great. This is everything I've wanted for those two since Roderick stopped being Sleeping Beauty in S6. (Gosh has it been that long?)

Pied Piper vs. the Fiddler - I do like the way their sound tech interacts and the fight, though short, is fun.

(No seriously can someone just stab Mark Blaine a few times. Whoops, he's dead, how terrible, let's forget about him immediately? Like, is he just being particularly awful in this episode or has what little tolerance I have for him eroded entirely after skipping most of S8?)

Anyway, Snow does not seem thrilled about Mark's plan. She's probably afraid to die and is too 'new' to life to be able to admit it. And I have to wonder if really she's just Caitlin with amnesia and Frost's powers?

Anyway, seriously, just fuck Blaine.

Thank goodness Hartley still knows where all the stuff in Caitlin's lab is. Or at least has a general idea, anyway. Though I'd like to think sometimes he just hung out with Caitlin for old times sake.

Oh no. Barry please do not make excuses for Blaine. I'm so tired of this guy. Though Barry being all cryptic on 'we have to go' is hilarious.

Chester - TECHNOBABLE

Iris follows that so much better than I did. She's so smart and awesome and let me just fangirl over her a bit.

Hartley muttering at, and cussing out, his gloves as he tries to repair them. Most relatable moment on this episode so far.

Snow certainly has Caitlin's desire to help people, worrying about Hartley clearly being hurt. And she realizes how worried about Roderick Hartley is. Listening to him worry about Roderick. Awww

But Snow makes a good point. Change is something you have to choose for yourself. Trying to force a change for someone else isn't going to work. *staring right at Blaine* But Hartley has already changed - while having Roderick back in his life may have made choosing to change easier, Hartley made that choice before Roderick was saved and thought there was no way to save Roderick. He made that choice when he went to save Barry from Godspeed. Everything after was just follow through.

Everyone fighting over who Snow should die to resurrect. Do any of them even hear themselves? How awful and, quite frankly, like bad guys they sound? She's her own person now and she deserves to live, even if the way she came into the world was awful.

>_<

Okay, so Iris' reasons for choosing Frost are kinda dumb. *sigh*

Snow loves nature. (Sky High anyone???) Snow is very sweet, but I do think they're spending too much time drawing out this plot line. That said I'm so glad that Cecile at least actually takes the time to ask Snow what she wants.

All this retconning with Thomas Snow. Seriously, none of that fits in the established Caitlin&Frost timeline. How much did the multiverse reboot change Caitlin and Frost's origins? But whatever, at least they finally decided it should be Snow's choice.

(No, really, what would make more sense is if Thomas had considered using a CRC type machine to get rid of Icicle but ultimately was too afraid Icicle would use it to kill him instead. Then that could have been a development that happened later when he locked himself away to try and find a 'cure' to Icicle. And a brain scan from Caitlin's childhood? What did they want to do, restore Caitlin to a twelve year old's mentality? Brains change over time. Oh wow, so much was not thought through in this retconning.)

Oh no! Roderick! Hartley, seriously, learn to ask for help when you need it? Lucky him, Barry came anyway and showed him what he needed to do to save Roderick.

Hartley - You figure it out, I'm busy. *grinning at Roderick because awwwwwww look he's so in love*

Snow picking the name Khione - I'm so glad she got to pick her own name.

That said, seriously. Who is gonna tell Cisco about all this? He's gonna be so pissed off.

Hartley destroying the CRC. Yes, finally, someone with some sense around here. Well, if we can't have Cisco and Caitlin friendship this season, I'm liking the Hartley and Khione friendship. Blaine threatening Hartley... is it bad I'm hoping something comes of that so Hartley can kick Mark Blaine's butt? Since clearly Hartley's the only one with any sense whatsoever.

Let's hope Hartley sticks around for more episodes. *finger crossed*

Iris, yes, make fun of Barry's dancing more please. Someone stop him. And Chester. Please. This is the kind of dancing Angel was terrified of dancing like on AtS.

Oooh, looks like Hartley will be in the next episode too. (checked out the trailer for ep 3) Guess I'll be checking in for that one too.

So it does seem like no one is properly upset or grieving over Caitlin or really mourning her which... is disappointing. Barry at least feels guilty over their last interaction but Blaine's just like 'let's kill her extra dead for Frost's sake'. Ah yes, what a wonderful person he was for Frost to date.

All the 'this is what Caitlin would want' going on just sounds like them handwaving over the fact that Caitlin was grieving and depressed, never got the help she needed for the multiple traumas and deaths of loved ones she endured, and she was not in any way, shape, or form thinking clearly when she tried to resurrect Frost. Her death was a terrible and preventable tragedy and it's like no one wants to look too hard or else they'll have to accept their culpability in failing one of their friends. But sacrificing Khione to resurrect Caitlin or Frost would have just been repeating Caitlin's mistakes so... it took them way too long to come to an answer that should have been obvious as the only ethical choice from the start.

Anyway, I want more Hartley and Roderick being cute together because they're now the cutest couple on the show. Sorry Barry and Iris, but you've been usurped by the cute and flirty duo. But then Barry and Iris were only the cutest couple on the show 'cause Cisco and Kamilla left, so... *shrug* (Grant and Candice do what they can with the show's writing, but 'babymoon'? They're not spinning that as romantic, there's just no way. But at least they're acknowledging that Iris should be pregnant sometime relatively soonish.)

(I did actually go back and watch Ep1 before this. And, um... it had some good parts. But I also skipped around a lot 'cause I got bored. It was not the best time loop episode i've ever seen. It was middling of the road as far as episodes went and reminded me more of the reasons why it took me so long to start shipping Barry/Iris on the show in the first place. Namely, did Iris ever actually choose Barry? Or did she, after Eddie died, let herself get pushed into a relationship that she didn't necessarily want because everyone was pushing Barry as her destiny? Not that she didn't clearly find happiness with Barry, but... well, this is one of the reasons why i say canon does them dirty. Barry/Iris has been hit and miss as a result and it's not a good sign that the final season started off with something that felt more like a miss than a hit.)

#kitkatt0430 watches #the flash #season 9 episode two #hear no evil #season 9 spoilers #so does it seem like blaine is being set up to be a villain later in the season?#'cause i've got that impression now #and i want hartley to kick his butt #once again team flash struggles to do the ethical thing because protagonist centered morality means they must always be right

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sleeping-in-the-sky · 1 year

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Those Halcyon Days (Infinite Blue)

“Plotting these schemes, pulling the strings… It has been painful. It is still painful,” Brooklyn confesses. His voice, usually rich and warm like honey and hearth, is ragged as he shares his sins. "But I have come too far for this to be all for naught, I can’t- I shouldn’t- stop now for the sake of the nation, for the sake of the duchy, for the sake of the people and you-”

His voice cracks. The hand holding his cup is trembling, and the amber liquid contained within ripples.

Brooklyn x Reader, Vampire & Royalty AU. Reader’s gender or pronouns are not mentioned. Also posted on Ao3 here.

CW: Blood, character death, grief.

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Author’s Note: The vampire lore in this story doesn't have the classic "to become a vampire, you need to get bitten by a vampire/drink vampire blood" rules. Instead, I borrowed my incredible friend's homebrew vampire lore (with permission, bless her heart). The condensed version of her lore is as follows:

Vampires are, on a metaphorical level, a representation of trauma that haunts people. In a lesser sense they also represent regret and guilt. Every vampire is the tragic protagonist in their own Ancient Greek play, doomed from birth to fall to a cataclysmic disaster. They can be the instigator of this tragedy, and then vampirism is a sort of purgatorial punishment for them, or they could be a victim, perhaps dying in an extreme circumstance where they never received closure and they’re still searching for it, etc.

To become a vampire, the vampire-to-be must have lived a life of tragedy and misery, leaving an unrepentant wake of destruction in their path. Then, as their human body dies, or after it has died but before rot sets in, blood must be ingested by the vampire-to-be. This is not necessarily a vampire’s blood. Even animal’s blood will function well for this purpose. That’s it. Other vampires are not needed to create a new vampire. In fact, in certain conditions, vampires can even turn on accident.

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Act I: Cloudless Blue Skies

The children’s laughter rings throughout the town, excited voices mixing as they share old tales and imagine new ones. Armed with satchels full of toys and snacks, they race through the streets fueled by innocent excitement.

The adults engage in friendly chatter as they walk down stone-cobbled paths. Some start their daily banter with the lively street vendors, others wave goodbye and head home, all of them going about their humble lives to support their families.

The elderly bask in the gentle afternoon rays, watching their grandchildren and passing along the stories of old; tales of magic casting miracles and curses, legends of heroes fighting against dark-dwelling demons of sin.

From the open window, the young lord hears them all yet pays no mind, for he has more pressing matters to attend to. With a feather duster in one hand and a rag in the other, he continues his mission to make the entrance hall spotless, ignoring his servants' pleas to stop. After all, today was the day for his spouse’s arrival. Why shouldn’t he help make the manor as presentable as it can be?

He hears the creaking sound of the mansion gates opening, and he turns to see you - dressed in your best attire, hands clasped nervously in front of you - but with a quizzical look on your face. No doubt wondering why the head of the household, a high-ranking noble of the kingdom, and your new husband, was doing the duties of a maid.

He brushes away his embarrassment with a small cough before setting down the cleaning supplies. “Brooklyn Hayes, thirty-fourth head of the Hayes Duchy, at your service, ” he says with a graceful bow. He raises his head, and as soon as you lock eyes with that golden gaze he visibly softens.

“Pleased to meet you… My dear.”

Act II: Soft Clouds

The silk curtains sway to the rhythm of birdsong as the breeze leaves soft kisses on your cheek and entices your book to turn its pages. You set the novel down and look out the window, watching and listening for signs of life in the town. Your town.

It’s a good day.

As if right on cue, you hear two knocks at your door, and Brooklyn enters the room. He looks a little fatigued, but his usual grace is prevalent as he kisses you in greeting. “My dear, I was thinking of going to the café by the town square for lunch,” he said. “Would you like to join me? I heard they’ve added new tea cakes to the menu.”

He doesn’t even need to wait for a reply - the joy that lights up your face says it all, and he laughs. It’s a deep warm chuckle, and you can’t help but give a bashful smile in response.

“Well now, shall we go?”

The town square is bustling with its usual activity when the two of you arrive. The younger ones cheer and wave at the passing stagecoach, and the adults smile and bow respectfully. Your heart flutters as you accept a tiny bouquet of daisies from a particularly brave child, grateful at how accepting the townspeople were to you, an outsider.

Entering this arranged marriage was quite frankly, intimidating; joining the household of the famed Hayes Duchy, and even marrying the head of the family! But you soon learned that those worries were for naught. Despite his formality and status, you found that Brooklyn was just a kind and gentle man, and although you sometimes found his quirks odd - one of them being his penchant for excessive cleaning and organizing - he was someone you found worth and happiness being with. And for the townspeople, as soon as they saw how smitten their lord was with his new spouse, they quickly welcomed you with open arms.

Seating yourself on the café terrace, you watch over the plaza as Brooklyn graciously pours the two of you a cup of tea. A warm floral scent drifts lazily through the air. “I unfortunately have to continue my work right after this,” he says. “The royal court has been rather… disorderly lately. I truly do apologize.” He reaches across to take your hand in his, and he genuinely looks regretful.

“I hope to spend more time with you soon… But until then, I will cherish these moments of respite we share.”

Act III: Raindrops

It’s a quiet evening. Despite the relaxed ticking of the clock reminding Brooklyn it was close to midnight, he sits in his office, head in his hands, and lets out a sigh as he contemplates his course of action. Political strife had always been rampant under the thinly stretched tarp of noble appearances. But the cauldron, filled to the brim with unspoken resentment and hidden agendas, bubbled relentlessly underneath the covers and with the soon-to-be passing of the current king, he knew that all it’ll take was one more drop for everything to come spilling out.

To allow the Hayes duchy to shift from its longstanding neutral position would be adding more than a single drop to the cauldron. Opposing the first prince and his supporters was akin to a death wish, but with every bit of knowledge and experience Brooklyn wielded he knew that if he didn’t help the second prince succeed the crown it would lead to a future more torturous than death.

But was he prepared for the sacrifices, the cost, of purposely starting fires? Raking back his hair in frustration the duke abruptly stands and leaves the study, letting his legs decide where to go down the dark hallway without any direction while he relentlessly ruminated over his options. It wasn’t until he stopped in front of a mahogany door did he realize he was in front of his bedchambers.

Carefully, in an attempt to not make a sound, he pushes open the door. Under the plush comforters you were fast asleep, clutching a pillow in your arms as if it were your victim placeholder instead of your husband. Brooklyn couldn’t help but crack a smile. A cuddler, you were; it seemed like you were never fully comfortable until you were cozy under a dozen blankets and snuggled up to something, or someone. Yet another thing he adored about you. He sits on the edge of the bed and gently traces his thumb against your cheek, then shifts his attention to the open window. Singing cicadas, the gentle wind, all joining together as the chorus of Night, envelop him in a soft embrace. The townscape with his people, wrapped in their own dreams, glows dimly. Beside him, you murmur incoherently in your sleep and turn to nuzzle your face into his hand.

Guilt courses through his veins and threatens to swallow him whole, but he knows what must be done. Contrary to the heavily corrupt first prince and his faction, a noble exists to serve the people. And you, this town, this province- was his everything.

So with a deep breath, he lifts his hand and willingly steps into sorrow.

Act IV: Rainstorm

Steeling your nerves, you raise a reluctant fist and give two raps on the door. Hearing the muffled approval for entry you enter, a maid carting tea and sandwiches following close behind.

Most of the study is in its usual pristine condition. The antique bookshelves and their contents are sparkling with the prideful work of the servants, but Brooklyn’s desk is a mess. The usually carefully stacked papers are in a haphazard heap with the noble in question sitting surrounded by clutter, and when he raises his head to meet your eyes worry leaps into your throat. Despite his usual dignified attire, fatigue shone through in the shadows under his eyes and the delayed reaction as it finally registered that it was his spouse that stood before him.

Finally, he lifted the corners of his lips in a forced smile. “My apologies… It’s been a while since I’ve last had tea with you, yes? I suppose I do need the break.”

He leaves his prison-like workspace and joins you on the velvet chaise couch. The maidservant, despite casting worried glances toward her master, quickly finishes setting the coffee table and excuses herself. Like clockwork, Brooklyn lifts the porcelain teapot to serve you and then himself a cup of tea. Watching him move with his natural ease of grace was a routine for you, but unlike other days where you would be filled with peace, your mind was scrambling, searching for the right words to say.

But it was Brooklyn who broke the silence. “I’m guessing you’ve caught wind of the storm.” After a moment of hesitation, you nodded. News of riots breaking out at the capital, exposure of previously-hidden corruption of nobles, and instability in trade were rampant, and despite many pointing blame to the first prince you’ve heard subtle rumors that the mastermind behind them all was your husband.

When you relay what you’ve heard, Brooklyn goes silent. Finally, he confirms that the gossip was true. “Plotting these schemes, pulling the strings… It has been painful. It is still painful,” he confesses. His voice, usually rich and warm like honey and hearth, is ragged as he shares his sins. “I have long since accepted that I would be making sacrifices. But the number of innocent casualties, the suffering I’ve caused the civilians as a result of this was not anticipated. Or rather… I was foolish for not thinking this would happen. But I have come too far for this to be all for naught, I can’t- I shouldn’t- stop now for the sake of the nation, for the sake of the duchy, for the sake of the people and you-”

His voice cracks. The hand holding his cup is trembling, and the amber liquid contained within ripples. He takes a shuddering, deep breath. “You should flee,” he says, and your eyes widen. “I cannot fathom how much misery is yet to come. Leave me, and seek shelter be it with your family or another noble, but I’m terribly afraid to put you in the way of danger, so-”

His words die in his throat as your hand, firm and steady, takes hold of his. Anxiety and fear for the situation and the future gnaw at you but when you see your husband overburdened like this, all you could think of was to stay by his side.

“... Thank you, my love.” Brooklyn searches and finds comfort within your compassion and loyalty. “I want no harm to come to you, and I’ll arrange things so you can escape at a moment's notice. But at the same time… I am grateful that you choose to stay by me.”

“…I realize it’s selfish to say, but right now, I can’t help but wish that you continue to stay by my side. As of right now, you are the only thing that brings me ease.”

He sets down his tea, and in an unusual show of weakness, pulls you into him in a tight embrace. As you tenderly run your fingers through his brown hair, you could faintly make out a nearly-inaudible thank you as Brooklyn buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Act V: Thunderstorm

The mechanical ticking of the grandfather clock reminds Brooklyn that it was a few more hours until Night ends her reign and lets Day come to take her place. But unlike several seasons ago when he first waged this torturous political war, as he toiled away at his papers and plans the weight on his shoulders felt lighter. The first prince’s faction was steadily weakening, and it was only a matter of time before the king names the second prince as the official heir to the throne. The deaths of the innocents that were caught up in this mad dance still twisted his heart and crushed it with guilt, but maybe, just maybe, if all goes well, their deaths would not be in vain and all of the sleepless nights would be worth it.

He neatly caps his fountain pen and stretches in his seat. Maybe it’s finally time to get a decent amount of sleep. With his old orderliness he arranges the documents into neat stacks before leaving the office, finding friends in the shadows of the hall he walks down, and he looks forward to embracing you in slumber.

But when the heavy doors slowly open he’s not greeted by the steady sounds of sleep. There’s a figure standing by the bed and at first, Brooklyn wonders if it’s you. Although rare, it wouldn’t be unusual if you needed to get up during the night for a drink of water. But his eyes adjust to the darkness and he notices there’s another figure in the bed and he realizes it’s you, and under the silver moonlight shining coldly through the window he sees patches of blood, and then he hears it - gasps and wheezes, of your life slowly slipping out with every weak breath you take.

The standing assailant, in a familiar uniform but with an unfamiliar visage, turns and charges at Brooklyn, but his thoughts dissolve and blood rushes to his head, and in what he could only comprehend as a fit of vengeful malevolence, disarms the assassin and uses their own dagger to slit their throat.

There’s no time to think, to cry out for help, to identify the killer. He lets the body collapse in a heap to the ground and rushes to your side. He grabs the blankets with shaking hands, trying to use them to stop the bleeding, but even in the darkness of the callous night it’s clear that the wound was deep, your eyes look back at him as frantic as the beating in his heart as he whispers your name over and over like a prayer to the gods, your lips quiver and move as if you’re trying to speak-

For a split second he hears footsteps from behind. Then sparks of lightning shoot through him as he looks down and sees the tip of a blade in his chest and a glimpse of another figure behind him. The next moment he’s engulfed in what feels like hellish flames and a tidal wave of cold sweat, and the last thing Brooklyn feels is the metallic taste of blood in the back of his throat before darkness crashes down, swallowing him whole.

After what feels like simultaneously nothing and all eternity, vague sounds worm through the darkness and slowly give way to light as he lifts his heavy eyelids. Blinking slowly, it takes him a few minutes as he realizes the swarming figures around him are his servants, all in a myriad of emotions. They’re talking fast to him and to each other, moving about in a blurry dance and when with aching limbs he slowly sits up he feels nothing - no warmth, no grief, as empty of a husk as the cold lifeless body laying in bed in front of him.

Act VI: Fog

Brooklyn wasn’t sure how long time had passed since then. It could have been days or weeks, but through it all he feels as though he was drifting through a hazy dream. He has a vague recollection of another duke in the first prince’s faction arrested for the attempted assassination of the Hayes duchy, and that was the last raindrop of the political storm as it allowed for the first prince to quickly lose his influence. He remembers being invited to the royal capital for the second prince’s coronation, but he also remembers declining. Something about entering the sunlight-dappled palace didn’t feel right to him.

There’s a memory of your casket, lovingly decorated with orchids and carnations, and he even remembers placing a stuffed bear inside so you have something to snuggle with while you rest in eternal slumber. But when the priest starts to lead the prayer, it feels like an inferno was lit in his chest- and he leaves, pocketing the memory of your last peaceful expression deep within him.

He remembers his servants and guards leaving one by one - did he let them go? He probably did, solitude suddenly feels more comfortable. And soon the mansion was empty except for him, besides a few friendly townsfolk and old employees who, out of concern, visit him once in a blue moon.

Brooklyn drifts through the greyscale hours of his new everyday, living in the darkness that he suddenly finds comforting until one day without much thought he brews himself tea and realizes that out of habit he’s set out two teacups.

A breeze slips through the cracked window and flits around the empty mansion before leaving a kiss on his hand. The porcelain teacup slips through his fingers and shatters into a million fragments on the carpet, and it feels like a wake-up call to what was his reality.

It sets in that he won’t ever be able to see your uncontainable giddiness at the café, he won’t wake up at dawn to your arm slung over him, he won’t be able to feel your presence and the comfort you brought. All of them, now only existing in his memories.

But closing his eyes the only images he can conjure is one of your frantic expression before slipping away and the restful smile in your coffin and it’s enough to make him crumble.

A torrent of thoughts and emotions race through him and he clutches and claws at anything and everything - his face, his hair, the tablecloth. Anguished sobs rip out of the shell of his former self until there’s nothing left. Sullen eyes glance around the desolate manor and he feels sharp canines piercing his bottom lip, tasting despair.

From then on, all communication ceases from the Hayes duchy. When the newly crowned king sends a messenger to the providence, he is later found as a corpse, pale and empty of life and blood. The same fate meets the next several visitors.

The house is soon abandoned by the kingdom.

Act VII: Grey Skies

The children trade secrets in hushed whispers, spreading their tales of the broken manor hidden in the corner of the town. The brave ones, gathering their wits and curiosity along with their unenthusiastic friends venture to explore, but none make it inside.

The adults walk briskly to and fro through the graying town, still smiling at their children who scamper down the street, but the street vendors are quieter, and there’s no waving at any fancy carriages that run through the town because none come at all.

The elderly speak between themselves of love and nobility; tales of the years before the reign of the current king, how the benevolent lord of the now-gone duchy selflessly protected those who lived within.

But Brooklyn hears none of this, for why does it matter? The life he once knew, so vibrant and beautiful, was ripped and torn away from him, along with you.

And the eternity he must endure for atonement feels so hollow.

He sits, in solitude, in the dust-laden, cobweb-littered mansion.

#Infinite Blue #Brooklyn #Reader Insert #Brooklyn x Reader #fanfiction

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