#named reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cambria-writes · 9 months

Text

i don't know what to say. i'll apologize for the previous cilffhanger and this one but i promise, swear that you will not need to wait a year for the next update. i'm... uniquely motivated to keep going. should probably be able to wrap everything up in the next 2-3 chapters.

cheers to finally having some smut! 🥂

pairing: patrick jane x named reader word count: 3,278 rating: E for explicit content warnings: SMUT, good girl used probably too much, soft dom!jane, reader is mentioned having hair long enough to grab, female reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), so much foul language, insecurities addressed, age gap solidly confirmed (approx. 10 years but you can interpret that however you want)

Previous Next

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔒𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔰

Your legs feel like jello when Jane pulls the door behind him. It’s still left ajar, which you appreciate, but it’s enough for you to feel isolated. Alone. An entirely jarring feeling when you felt entirely too seen not even a minute ago.

You can’t see your clothes when you look around the guest bedroom. Spartan is what you’d call it if you had to describe it, though it’s clear someone’s been using it recently. It’s not hard to imagine why; you don’t think you’d want to sleep in the room your family got murdered in, either. When you sit down on the chair by the bed, pulling at the hem of your loaned shirt, you can’t see your clothes anywhere. Not that you wanted to get dressed; that would give the impression you’d want to go home, right?

You definitely don’t want to go home yet. Not right now.

Though whatever half-awake, fragile moment you’d had with Jane before is pretty much gone with your sleepiness, there’s still something nestled in your stomach. A feeling you wouldn’t call uncomfortable, but definitely isn’t familiar. The sound of the door creaking open nearly makes you fall off the chair.

“I did knock,” Jane says, a little sheepishly. He stays in the doorway, though, hand on the knob like he’s ready to go back out.

“I’m thinking too much again,” you say quietly, with a huff of laughter. You glance up at him quickly before turning your eyes back down to your hands and the way your nails dig under the shirt hem.

You don’t hear the floorboards groan when Jane walks up to you, don’t hear anything when he couches in front of you. You don’t flinch, to your own surprise, when his hands cover your in your lap and still your movement. He waits for you, because he knows just as well as you do, somehow. You’re not even sure what’s known, just that there’s a vague sense of understanding. You take a deep breath, clear your head while you nod to yourself, and look up.

“There she is.” His smile is small but god it feels radiant to you. Warm. Safe, against all odds.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking another deep breath and letting your shoulders sag, trying to let the tension out of them. You fight the urge to look away and fidget with your hands. “Yeah, I think I’m done with my thinking.”

Jane hums and nods. “And what were you thinking about?”

“Wha—what I want,” you stutter out. You can feel the heat burning in your cheeks, which in turn just makes you even more flustered. You pinch your lips shut though.

One of Jane’s hands leaves your and moves to the outside of your thigh, just above your knee. If you thought the ‘fragile’ moment from earlier had imploded and vanished, you’re quickly realizing that it very much did not and that someone—whoever the fuck had the gall to call Jane this morning—had simply hit pause.

“And what is it that you want?”

“I don’t know if I have the words for it,” you reply, a little too quickly. Jane cracks a smile and the hand at your thigh begins a slow motion upward. “I—no, I just. It’s…”

“Uncomfortable?” He offers, and you offer a small nod. “What makes it uncomfortable?”

“Besides the overwhelming risk of rejection and humiliation?” You ask, voice pitched and quiet. When you start biting at your lower lip, the remaining hand covering yours quickly comes up to pull it from between your teeth.

“I won’t humiliate you,” Jane says slowly, and you can’t help but notice that his eyes are very obviously not looking into yours, and his thumb is still just below your lips. The hand on your thigh is as close to your hip as his arm will allow, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. When his gaze does meet yours again, all traces of a grin are gone and—god, his pupils. “What are you worried is going to be rejected?”

You exhale shakily and breathe in just as unevenly. “Me.”

“Why?” Jane looks back down and, after slowly putting a knee to the floor and effectively kneeling in front of you—the image of which is doing things to you that you wouldn’t dare mention in polite company—he carefully pulls his hands away from your face and thigh and taps at your right leg for you to lift it. He rests your foot on his knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze before moving his fingers to dig into your calf.

“I’m…” you start, unsteady, eyes fixed on the fingers working through the muscles of your calf. “I’m younger, I’m—I don’t know, I’m clueless? I got shot, I got kidnapped, I let you drag me into really, actually, really questionable situations. That’s dumb. That’s entirely dumb.”

“So you’re worried of being rejected because you don’t think you’re smart enough,” Jane summarizes, and coming out of his mouth you realize it does sound a little silly. You can’t help the shiver that makes it down to your legs when his hands make it to your knee and you can feel his fingers working out a knot you didn’t even know could exist behind it.

“...well it sounds childish when you say it like that,” you huff, and you resist the urge to cross your arms. “But yeah. Yes. I don’t feel smart enough.”

Jane gently guides you to put your leg down and taps the other one to bring it up. The same process starts again, from the soft touches at your ankle to the massaging of your calf.

“I can assure you,” he starts, voice low and cadence slow. “That you are infinitely more clever than you let yourself believe you are.” Close your eyes against the slowly increasing burn behind them and breathe through your nose. You feel warm fingers dig into the tendons behind your knee, sliding underneath your thigh to get at the muscles there.

There’s a lot to unpack here. The attraction to someone older than you, the unwillingness to believe anything good about yourself, the fact that speaking your mind feels shameful enough that your brain shuts down, but...

Jane smooths both hands over your hips, under your borrowed shirt. You can’t help the sharp intake of breath you take and the shiver that spreads out to your limbs from your spine. His hands stop their ascent at your hips, but just above the waistband of your underwear. Thumbs rubbing slow circles in the skin just above your hip bone.

You open your eyes again when you feel a soft kiss on your right knee. When you look down, the sight makes your breath catch in your throat.

You don’t think you’ve ever really understood the meaning of the word ‘reverent’ until just now.

You take a stuttering breath and lift one of your hands to rest atop the disheveled blond head in front of you. Jane exhales almost like he’s chuckling. His hands slide back down the length of your legs before he places them on the seat of the chair, on either side of your thigh. You don’t know if the lump your swallow past is anticipation or disappointment. He leans forward what feels dangerously close as he slowly stands. Pauses when his face is even with yours, and it’s a struggle to keep your eyes trained on his.

“You’re sure this is okay,” Jane asks, but it sounds more like an uncertain statement. You wonder for a second why he seems so hesitant and careful—treating you like glass even though you’ve been shot and been perfectly fine.

And then you remember the cave, the clammy demanding fingers. Close your eyes against the memory and take in a deep breath that sounds like a gasp.

But it’s fine. It is. Jane’s hands don’t feel like hers, this room doesn’t look like that, everything smells... safe. Alive and warm and safe.

“Yea-yes. Yes,” you repeat, clearing your throat and opening your eyes. “This is different,” you add, under your breath, and can’t help but let your eyes travel down to Jane’s mouth before jumping back up.

You can feel Jane’s amused exhale on your lips before he stands straight. With a gentle hand on your neck, guides you up to stand, too. It’s with a gentle tug to pull you in that he kisses you. And unlike last night, you’re about as lucid as you could be, and this is not chaste. You splay your hands over his bare stomach when he coaxes your lips apart with his. Where Patrick shudders at the touch, you can barely recognize the relieved and almost needy whine that slips from your mouth into his. The feeling of his tongue against yours has your knees almost buckling. You’re quickly steadied by a firm hand at your waist and the one at your neck sliding down to grab your shoulder.

“You need to breathe,” Patrick whispers, almost laughing, against your lips.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and the giggle that bubbles up feels foreign and almost manic. “I just—you’re so...”

“No need to be nervous,” Patrick mumbles, into your cheek this time, as he slowly moves to turn you. “I won’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

You pull back a bit too quickly to take a look at his face, but lose your footing in the process. You find that you comfortably land back on the bed, springs bouncing you back up one of twice before you settle. You barely have the time to lean up on your elbows to look up at Patrick before he places his hands behind your knees and tugs to pull you to the edge of the bed.

Your heart leaps in your throat. You really hate to assume anything and especially in moments like these but. But you’ve seen this movie—pretty much literally—and you have a feeling you know what’s supposed to come next. Jane must see the look of both shock and apprehension on your face, because where his expression has been pretty tame and affectionate, there’s something dark and hungry there when he sees your eyes go wide.

“Never had someone go down on you before?” he asks, and the crassness of it makes you remember how warm your face is. You don’t miss the way his hands are slowly creeping back up the outside of your thighs. Don’t miss the way that you have no choice but to keep your legs spread on either side of his.

“Uh, on-one, bitched the whole time, wasn’t uh,” you clear your throat again, bring your cold fingers up to your cheeks to try and dim the heat. “Wasn’t pleasant.”

Patrick clicks his tongue and shakes his head in obvious disapproval. He goes down on a knee when you feel his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your heart feels like a hummingbird in your throat when he slides it over your hips, down your legs and off your feet.

“Hands off your face,” Patrick says, though the hard tone in his voice makes it sound like an order. Your hands slip down over your chest before you can even think about it. His hands slide back over the top of your thighs, glide over and around your hips, and stop to rest just over the curves of your ass. Pulls you just a bit closer with a short tug.

“Oh god, fuck,” you whisper, swallowing thickly when you feel his warm breath against your cunt.

“Double tap for me to stop,” Patrick says, but doesn’t move immediately. Lifts his head and pinches with a hand to get your attention. “Understood?”

“Yessir,” you choke out, all at once, and immediately bite down on your tongue. His eyes narrow and he—you think it’s a hum, but it sounds so guttural you’re tempted to call it a growl.

“Good girl.”

You can’t see his head very well past the shirt you’re still wearing, so your spine arches nearly clean off the bed when you feel something wet slide all the way up your slit and catch on your clit. Your throat clamps around the whine that wants to leave it, only a choked exhale exiting your lips.

You open your mouth to say something, but your mind blanks when Patrick puts his lips around your clit and sucks. You swear your see stars for a second before he eases off, letting his tongue flick over it instead. When your body loses some of its tension, the whine that was choked before comes out as a whining moan on your exhale.

Patrick goes back down to tongue your entrance, only cursorily, before returning his attention to your clit. It feels like every other time you exhale is a breathy moan. You bring an arm up to your mouth to quiet yourself—you feel embarrassed is what it is—but a nip on the inside of your thigh makes you yelp. Patrick pulls a hand forward and slides the shirt you’re wearing up to your sternum, fingers splayed wide.

“I want to hear you,” he grunts, returning his tongue to your clit. You pull your arm from your face. When you feel two fingers slide up and down your entrance, though, you let yourself reach down and thread your fingers through his hair. “Just like that,” he mutters against your cunt, sliding both fingers in with ease.

But slowly.

“Fuck, please,” you whisper-whine, angling your hips up to try and get the fingers deeper. The hand on your chest slides down, until Patrick’s whole forearm is across your hips and holding you down against the mattress.

His fingers do, blessedly, slide in deeper, but unexpectedly hook up in a come hither motion, and you nearly choke at the sensation. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, tips just brushing your entrance, before thrusting them back in. Again, bends his fingers and pulls them out. Bit your lips and arch your back against the feeling. You’re realizing, on the third thrust, that maybe you don’t know your body as well as you think you do.

The fifth time Patrick pulls his fingers out, you can almost feel your orgasm in the back of your throat. He lets you angle your hips up this time. When you do, he once again seals his lips over your clit and sucks, but he also violently increases the speed of his fingers. You hope his knuckles leave bruises.

“Fuck, please,” you whine again, back arched and hips thrusting upward. You want to scream when Patrick takes his mouth off you, fingers still thrusting wildly.

“Ask nicely,” he breathes. You sob, hips still twitching trying to chase your high.

“I did, I did—I am! Please, fuck, please sir?”

“There you go.”

You don’t have time to think about the meaning of that before his lips are back on your clit, sucking, but this time he flicks his tongue over the nub.

Patrick’s fingers massage your inner wall while you come with a screamed sob that you don’t contain. At some point you register the fingers leaving and the sound of liquid hitting the floor, but you’re spent. Dazed and all but convulsing with your heart pounding in your ears and your head feeling like cotton.

And then Jane’s leaning over you, a forearm on the mattress by your head, brushing a hand across your forehead and down your cheek.

“Exceptional,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours.

“Hmm,” you whine, low, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “That’s—that’s my line.”

Eyes closed, you feel his lips on your and open up without any prying. You don’t mind tasting yourself on his tongue. You can just barely muster the energy and coherence to lift an arm up to put around his neck to pull him closer.

You can feel the bed dip at your hip where he takes a knee. The hand by your face moves to your waist and under. Too quick to register in your blissed-out state, Jane lifts you off the bed just enough to move you up a bit. Enough so that your hips are on there proper, and your legs are only dangling off the edge at the knee.

When you sigh, Jane chuckles and pulls away to take a look at you.

“All good there?”

“Better than I’ve been in a while,” you whisper, slowly blinking your eyes open. “Sorry for uh,” you stutter, letting your hand fall from around his shoulder to his chest. “For the mess.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before leaning up and back. Your hands slide down his bare chest as he does, and your heart once again leaps into your throat when you realize how hard he is. Your fingers catch and linger at the waist of the slacks he’d worn to bed last night.

“Making a mess,” Jane starts, hands slipping under yours to pop the button of his slacks. You realize that his right hand is still damp with you. “Kind of the whole point.”

You don’t realize you’re biting down on your lip until Jane grazes your jaw with his fingertips, and pulls your lip from between your teeth with his thumb. Zipper all the way down, you look up for—permission? You only pinch the fabric of his slacks to pull them down when you get a quiet ‘go on’. Once they’re mid thigh, though, you squirm a bit to be able to scooch back enough to sit up in a way that doesn’t kill your back or neck.

A gentle hand comes to rest at the back of your head while you’re focused on the cock in front of you, bulging a pair of soft-looking black briefs. Your mouth closes with a click when you realize you’ve left it hanging open.

“You never answered me earlier,” Jane says quietly. The hand at the back of your head swirls a bit before you feel fingers closing and tugging on your hair. “What is it that you want?”

You feel breathless. When you look up, you can’t tell what colour Patrick’s eyes are with how blown his pupils are. Swallow thickly and loudly. There’s a moment when you glance back down at the straining fabric over his cock that you consider asking, very nicely, if you can blow him. When you look back up, he’s leaned down and used the hand at the back of your head to tilt it up.

The first time you open your mouth, you can’t quiet get the words out. You close it and clear your throat, again, and try to ignore how your face is heating up again.

“I wan—I want you to,” you start, taking a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” Patrick croons, the hand at your head flattening out, fingers digging in like a semblance of a massage. You close your eyes to appreciate the sensation, but only for a second.

“Fuck me,” you say, eventually, blinking up at him before adding,“Please, sir.”

The hand in your hair tightens and pulls again, pulling you down to lie back on the bed while Jane leans down to join you.

“You asked so nicely,” he whispers into your throat, and you shudder when you feel his tongue run up your jugular. “So eager to please when you’re given half a chance.”

“Always,” you breathe back, putting your hands to good use and shoving both slacks and underwear over Jane’s hips to free his cock. Can’t help but cant your hips up when you feel the warm tip of it against your thigh. “Fuck, anything you want.”

Taglist

@fucklife-or-me @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger @yearningforsappho @natsukee @piper570 @rikuisthesweetestboy @berry-blink

i tagged everyone i could find in my replies but if you want to be tagged please send an ask!

#honey and the hatchet #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #patrick jane fanfiction #named reader #no Y/N #second person POV #SMUT #the slow burn is finally catching

181 notes · View notes

sugarbell · 4 months

Text

Batfam X Neglected! Batsis! Reader

Part 1

Today had started out like any other day. You had woken up, gotten ready, and gone to school. You were little more than a phantom in the school halls, hell you were little more than a phantom in your own home.

You weren’t complaining. Your life was considerably better than lots of other people in Gotham City, but what is a life without love? You had love in your life once upon a time, or so you’ve heard. Your mother was a beautiful, kind woman who girl-bossed through her whole life, and ran her own business company that sold many products for women. Mostly beauty products and clothes.

You had always heard how incredible your mother was. She was capable, independent, fiery, bold, but caring and compassionate. Or at least that’s what you had always heard, but you had no reason to doubt any of it. She was always committing some lovely charitable act. She had always been your hero even though you never had the chance to make any memories that you could remember with her. You had seen her in pictures and she was absolutely beautiful. So were you. Your father was also a very handsome man, which only added to your beauty. You were a mix of white and Japanese.

Your father was a lawyer, and you had also heard that he was a very intelligent and smart man, but he was a total goofball. The way people made your parents sound made you wish you had the chance to know them. On some nights where you lied in bed awake you would cry and wonder why the world had to be so cruel. Why couldn’t you have a chance to know your parents instead of being forced into a “home” where you were shown no love, affection, or care?

But then you would remember that you weren’t there only one who had it rough. Matter of fact, many people had it way, way worse than you did. So you would smile and thank God that you had a roof over your head, clothes to wear, and food to eat.

Although the problem never really was with material things.

Your mother and father had been apparent close friends with multi-billionaire playboy, and Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, Bruce Wayne. He was a trusted friend of theirs and they had written it down in their will that should anything ever happen to them, you were to be immediately placed under the care of their good friend Bruce Wayne. And when their car drove off a bridge on date night, you were orphaned. The letter with their will in it had gotten lost for quite some time until it turned up years later, by the time you were already ten years old. You had been in an orphanage all that time until the letter was found, and it was revealed that you were to be placed under the care of Bruce. Of course, Bruce accepted you graciously with open arms.

To the public of course. He had already had seven kids of his own, not that he minded another one, or meant to neglect you, it’s just that he never really seemed to have the time for you. Honestly nobody ever did.

You had been so excited to leave the gross, cold orphanage. You had seen Bruce Wayne on television and he seemed so nice and cool! But that was far from the truth. You envied his relationship with the other kids. You envied their relationship with each other.

Dick, he never meant to ignore you. It’s just…you were so ordinary. He hadn’t truly meant to brush you off but…he did. He was just so aloof and distant. He never tried making a relationship or a borderline connection with you, and you couldn’t say you hadn’t tried, but his detachment to nobody else but you made it increasingly hard. Like no matter how hard you tried he just couldn’t be interested in you in the slightest.

Jason, wasn’t necessarily outright harsh to you, however he didn’t bother trying to hide his disinterest in you. Whenever you spoke to him, he would only respond with grunts or groans, and when he did speak actual words to you, he sounded like it bothered him so much, so you had given up shortly after.

Tim was always too drained or tired to even bother with you. It was always tired hums whenever you tried speaking with him and so you gave up trying with him eventually too. He never really was rude, but he definitely couldn’t care less about you.

Damian definitely hates your guts, you were sure. Anytime you entered a room, he would scoff or “tt,” which made you self-conscious each time. You were older than him but it still hurt. You had tried giving him time to possibly warm up to you, he’ll you had tried it with everyone, but it never really happened. He despised you, and in turn you tried to stay as far away from him as possible.

Barbara, you never really spoke much to. She was always either preoccupied with something, or you just felt like she was so unapproachable. She was so beautiful and she seemed so kind and outgoing that you just felt like you weren’t in her league.

Stephanie seemed so light, and bubbly and kind, and in the beginning, you truly thought her and you would be fast friends, but when you heard her talking with Damian once behind closed doors about how they truly wished you had never joined the family…well you knew your assumptions about her were wrong.

Cass didn’t need words to build an unbreakable bond and an envious relationship with everyone else, so why not you? You had tried reaching out as well, but she was a little worse than Dick in the way where she was aloof, and would sometimes, more times than others just show her annoyance or unconcerned feelings towards you.

And then there was Bruce…he was supposed to act as your godfather…maybe even someone you could call ‘Dad’ just as many of the other kids did, but that never happened. Bruce was cold and harsh towards you. It was obvious he didn’t care about you. You had tried being the perfect golden child-getting straight A’s, excelling in all classes, helping out tremendously around the house to the point where you might even put the sweet, old Alfred out of business, been the sweetest, and the most patient with everyone, but it never seemed to work. Nobody noticed a thing except Alfred. Oh, he was so sweet and kind, and caring and compassionate towards you. And he never looked at you with pity. You hated the look of pity. One you had grown up with your whole entire life. He felt for you, and would always sneak you sweets and other treats during the days. Not that he has to sneak them to you…everybody else couldn’t give a damn what you decided to do. And you never wanted to feel like you were bothering anyone. So you took care of pretty much everything yourself.

Bruce took care of everything financially that you would need. You had plenty of clothes to wear, and many other material things that you needed, but never the one thing you truly needed. The one thing you truly craved… love.

You had a lovely room in the manor, but you always felt so cold and alone in it. A large bed with plush covers and duvets in Wayne Manor, but it was no help with sating the numb, empty, cold feeling inside your heart. The chill in your bones that you could never seem to get to leave. Not even on the hottest day in July.

You had lived in Wayne Manor for seven years of your life. You were seventeen now, and your birthday was coming soon. You had thought countless times of moving out when you turned eighteen, but you knew that you wouldn’t bring yourself to be able to do it. Even if your siblings and father, your “family” didn’t love and care about you, you still loved and cared for them deeply. Leaving them would only serve in hurting you more. Maybe that was what you needed though, time away girl them to realize that you truly didn’t need anybody who didn’t care about you or love you for you. Then you could rise from the ashes of the weaker person you used to be and into a new more ethereal creature who was stronger from the flames of her weakness and pain melting away, like a beautiful phoenix.

But you didn’t fancy the notion of lying to yourself. You knew that wouldn’t happen because you had too much love for them. Besides, you had never thought yourself a phoenix anyway. You honestly weren’t sure what you were yet. Maybe that journey of self discovery would do you a world of good. You figured yourself something of a solitary creature. But one that could thrive in an environment with others, however you were perfectly fine surviving on your own. You’d make do like you had all these years of being practically alone. You were fine, or were you? You thought yourself a fledgling bird…one that simply wasn’t ready to spread its wings and soar just yet. Maybe one day it would, and maybe it never would.

You knew of your family’s secret double lives. Vigilantes that roamed Gotham City at night protecting the people of Gotham from danger. Just one more reason why you felt like you never compare to any of them. They were all so unique and incredible in their own way, hell, they were superheroes at nighttime! And you…you were just ordinary girl that was thrust into their routine, and you were sure in their eyes, a punishment of some sort. Only there to ruin their lives, which you seemed to be successfully doing for each of them, no matter how hard you tried. It didn’t help that almost all of them, whether intentionally or not acted like they were better than you as well. And, you had started to think, especially recently, maybe they were right.

Anyways, you were less than an afterthought for all of them. And it would probably stay that way for the majority, if not all of your lives. And you had grown used to it. Didn’t mean you didn’t care, or that you didn’t wish it would change, because of course you did. The hopeful little girl inside you still hoping that all of her siblings and her father would have a change of heart and they could be the perfect family, although the realist older girl that was you now knew that it wouldn’t work out like that. Not without a miracle, and none of those seemed to ever happen in your life. You had just simply accepted it. Instead you stuck to your art. Your favorite pastime and escape from the world. You used lots of different mediums, you drew, painted, and did digital art. Not that anybody noticed, except Alfred of course, bless his kind soul.

You had hoped to get into a lovely art school in Gotham after graduating high school. After all, your mothers industry was waiting for you to turn eighteen and finish school when you could take over. You had tons of money. Fuck-you money, and then tons more. From both your mothers business and savings from your father. There was tons of money, houses, estates, for you to take over. The entire business was on hold right now, but the second you were read to claim it after school, it would be there waiting for you.

You hummed quietly along to the music playing through the red wireless headphones atop your head as you delicately stroked your paintbrush across the canvas attached to your easel by the large desk in your room. You sat on a little stool in front of it by your little window seat in your room. You paused your music.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You slowly got up, wrapping your beige paint covered throw cardigan tighter against your pajama clad body. Your bare feet carried you to the door as you set your headphones down on your dresser. You opened the door slowly to see Alfred at your door with a tray of sandwiches, crackers, and tea. “Ahem. Young Madame Lana, I noticed you have been locked up inside your quarters for the majority of the day without anything to eat, and I figured you might want to have a meal.”

A soft smile graces your soft features. Your slender doe eyes crinkled just a little at the corners as your naturally plump red lips pulled into a soft smile. You reached out and grabbed the tray from Alfred and set it on your dresser, because your desk was mostly used as your art desk and was covered in art materials. You launched yourself onto Alfred. It meant so much to you. No matter how many times you shut yourself in your room doing art, he would always come to make sure you had eaten something. Alfred was the only person in the world who currently have a damn about you and it made your heart swell that at least one person cared for you. “Thank you, Alfred. Very much.”

Alfred gave you a smile and a slight bow before leaving and shutting the door. You smiled to yourself as you went to the bathroom inside your room to wash your hands of the paint before coming out to eat your sandwich. You ate the sandwich and then looked at the clock.

4:30 p.m.

You decided to get dressed in real clothes to go out for a bit. You pulled on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, sneakers and grabbed your headphones, phone and keys before slipping out of your room. It was early Spring, the kind of time where it’s warm, but not enough for most people. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you left your room. You went down the stairs and you had hoped you wouldn’t run into any of your so-called siblings, but you were out of luck apparently. You seemed to be always out of luck.

Stephanie, Tim, and Damian were sitting at the kitchen table. Damian was reading a book that he looked up from to see you in mid-motion, walking towards the door. He scoffed and went back to reading his book. Tim was hovering over Steph’s shoulder as she held her iPad in her hands and he was giving her instructions on something or the other. Neither of them acknowledged you. You didn’t think much about it and left the house. You were used to it.

The thing about you was you were so caring, so compassionate, sweet, kind, loving, and incredibly selfless. You were so good and pure. People who knew your mother would tell you you were just like her. Bruce had eight kids now. One of them was bound to be a little less favored than the others, right? And honestly if you had the chance, you would take it all over again. The pain, the emptiness, the loneliness, the numbness, the feeling of knowing that you’re so much less than all those around you. You wouldn’t wish it on anybody else. You would rather it be you than any of your other siblings, and that was what made you such a beautiful person. It was a shame that you were all alone, and had nobody to realize all the beautiful flowers inside of you.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you replayed the harsh words your younger brother had said to you nothing short of an hour ago.

“You had been descending the stairs, excited for new art supplies that would be arriving today. You had sped towards the door and knocked into Damian by mistake, making him spill his tea onto your arm but mostly on the floor. He was furious. It wasn’t even your fault. He had been walking incredibly slow, and made no effort to move when he saw you descending the stairs first. He was so princely sometimes, such a brat. Like he expected you to move first before him because he rules over you or something. He wasn’t even the one who ended up getting burned and having to clean up the mess anyways. Thank God it send the lay bad and it would clean up easily, and the burn wouldn’t hurt too badly if you kept an ice pack against it. Your skin was still intact. He showed no concern for your safety. He was just irritated that his drink had been spilled. “You’re nothing! Don’t you realize that? It’s why none of us ever bat an eye in your direction. Because we don’t care about you. At least do something useful and make yourself as scarce as possible so none of us have to deal with seeing your disgrace of a face. Sorry excuse for a person.” You had tried not to cry in front of him but it was near impossible as he spouted the words in your face. He brushed his shoulder ag isn’t yours as he walked up the stairs, scoffing at your tears. “Pathetic.”

You had spent most of your evening crying. The thing was, you knew every word was true. He was right. Nobody cares about you, or what happened for you. You were nothing more than a burden in this house. Nothing more than a nuisance to everyone else. After a while your tears were replaced with anger. How as any of this your fault? Did you ask to live with Bruce Wayne? Did you ask for your parents to die? Did you ask to be adopted into this family and become related to any of them? Did you even ask to be born? No. The answer to everything was no.

You were becoming increasingly tired of every domes high and might act, like they were so much better than you. You were tired of it. So tired of giving more than you ever received, if that was ever anything. Your hard work, your blood, sweat, and tears were all worth nothing in their eyes and that was fine. Because you were tired of trying to please them. Your days of tip-towing around the manor were over. Of holding your tongue in the face of the blatant disrespect from all of them.

You were done. You had enough. You were tired of being lonely, empty, cold. You wanted to feel…feel…something. You wanted to feel like you belonged.

Harry Osborn was throwing a charity event at his own manor, and he had personally invited you. And hell if you weren’t gonna show up. This wasn’t the kind of event that Bruce would show up at-scratch that, it was, but Bruce wouldn’t be making an appearance this time. It was really more of a lowkey thing, not necessarily for huge, huge names like Bruce Wayne’s. And while the Osborn name was large in itself. It wasn’t a very large event. A cocktail event really, under the guise of raising money for orphaned children, but really it’s just an excuse for blue-bloods to get together at a down low event and drink cocktails and eat shrimp and caviar.

And while you originally thought him a snotty, stuck-up, blue blood kid that tossed his money around, with not much more to his personality. But then you met him on the sidewalk while you were on a run as he was getting out of his limo. You were on the sidewalk trying to get to a little cafe that was just around the corner, but you had to pass OsCorp to do it.

You had passed OsCorp many times on your way to the cafe, but never had you run into him. It was your fault, you had your headphones on, and you weren’t necessarily paying attention to your surroundings. He has accidentally hit you with the door of his limo as he was stepping out. You let out a strangled little whine and pulled your headphones around your neck and looked around for the cause of pain in your side.

You watched him step out fully and shut the door before turning to walk over to you. “Holy shit, man, you good? Shit, sorry…” but he seemed to trail off for whatever reason you weren’t sure about. He paused in his steps, and his eyes trailed over you and your face before he seemingly came out of his trance. You couldn’t know that it was because at first he had assumed you were a guy, and the second he laid eyes on you he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. But he had seen you before…where had he seen you before? Oh shit, that’s right. You were Lana Lang, the adoptive daughter of Bruce Wayne. Of course you had been on the news, and in papers, and God, he was such an idiot. How could he not recognize you, and hit you with his fucking car door?

“Mr. Osborn, is everything alright?” A voice wrestled him from his thoughts. He turned back to the limousine driver, and had to do a double take as he realized that he was standing next to him. Has he really been in his thoughts that long? Well, that was a problem. “Yeah, Bernard I’m fine. You can actually go ahead without me.” The older man gave Harry a confused look. “Sir?” He asked again, just to be sure. Harry sighed a little bit patted Bernard’s arm to assure him. “Yeah, I got it Bernard. I’m fine, go ahead, I’ll be in shortly.” Bernard gave a swift nod, and a polite smile to you before walking inside OsCorp.

Harry gave you a shit-eating grin…possible flirtatious? “Hey, I’m really sorry. You alright?” You were still getting over the shock of one, being hit by a car door, two, talking to Harry Osborn, and he hit you with his car door, and three, just how fast he switched up his personality. It was giving you whiplash and a headache. “Y-y-yes, I’m alright.” You mumbled softly. You also couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he was. Of course you had seen him on tv, and in papers, and you had thought he was handsome from there, but never really thought too much about him. But the more you because aware of his striking green eyes, the side swept, incredibly soft looking blonde hair, and the pinkest lips you had ever seen on a boy. It became increasingly harder to look him in the eyes the more aware you became of his prettiness.

A smirk spread across his rose lips, making the tiniest of dipped appear, but just for a second. “Well if you’re sure. It’s…Lana, right?” He asks like he didn’t know. You were pretty sure he did. “Yes. Lana.” You said with a shy smile as you averted your gaze again. “Hey, you don’t have to be so shy. I don’t bite..” he said, and his smile was genuine, but something like mischievous fire danced in his eyes and it made you think that he did. “Oh, yeah right, sorry.” You mumbled, and you wanted nothing more than to turn heel and run away from this incredibly awkward conversation, at lest on your end. Harry seemed like he was having fun. But you didn’t do that. Instead you straightened a little, wincing at the pain in your side before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He stared you down, and it made you feel like he could see right through you. But for the most part, you were just as much a mystery to him as he was to you.

“I’m hosting a charity event at my house, next week. It’s to raise money for orphaned children.” You narrowed your eyes a little bit. If it was anyone else you would consider that a little rude, but Harry Osborn was an orphan himself. His mother died early in his life from late stage cancer, and his father passed away only some months ago due to a degenerative disease that had been eating at him for years. Harry himself had the disease, but he was the only person alive to be able to beat it. Harry never really seemed to upset about his fathers death, and you suspected it was because they didn’t really have a great relationship. Well that’s two things you guys had in common.

“Um…that’s nice… I, uh, hope it goes well.” You smiled awkwardly and adjusted the headphones around your neck. You hadn’t really had time to pause the music so it was still playing through them until you clicked the off button. Harry’s grin stretched even more and it unsettled you just a bit, but the way he was so easy on the eyes was enough to somehow put you at ease, and make you nervous at the same time. “Arrival of the Birds. Love that song. I wouldn’t call myself a classical fan in general, I mean my father was imperative that I learn the piano, but it wasn’t necessarily my favorite genre. But that one…my mother taught that to me when I was eight.” Harry seemed tragic to you. And you figured he was a little obnoxious from the way he just bursted into commentary about himself, and leaned against his sleek black limo. His green eyes trailed over you again before he looked up. The sky was a little cloudy but it was blue and bright. He seemed to be reminiscing about something. This boy…he confused and drained you. But he interested you.

“I would like to invite you to my fundraiser.” He spoke suddenly after a few moments of quietness. You frowned a little, and narrowed your eyes. “You want me…to come to your fundraiser next week? Uh, why?” Your earlier nervousness was mostly gone, and now you were just downright confused. “Well, you’re an orphan, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help the shocked gasp that tore from your throat. “Yes, but what does any of that have to do with—“With someone like you, you and I could really help out, ya know? Put a dent in things like this. Besides,…” he got up from off the car and walked to the front entrance of OsCorp and you could see just how crowded and busy it was in there. He just left you there, like he expected you to follow after him. What an obnoxious, arrogant, stuck-up, annoyingly attractive boy. You hated how he was right in assuming, no, maybe knowing, that you would follow after him, because you did.

You had to jog a little to catch up with him when you decided to just let him win this one. You both stood at the entrance, you with your hands on your hips and a raised eyebrow. He chuckled lowly at your expression and posture, and the sound made your knees weak. “Sorry, sorry.” You glared up at him. He wasn’t by any means a really tall person, in fact he was either average or a little under, but you were definitely way under average height. He thought you were so adorable, and you reminded him so much of a cat. You could be perfectly polite and docile like earlier, but when provoked you were sharp and fiery. He liked that. A lot. “Easy, kitten. What I was going to say was…you intrigue me. I’d really like for you to be there. If you decide to come, something will be sent to the house for you. Think of it as also a way for me to make up for hitting you with my car door. Anyway, I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you around hopefully.” And he left just like that, leaving you riddled with questions, your face hot and red, and your side bruised. Kitten? It made your cheeks pink just thinking about it.

You decided to forgo the cafe today. It was already a little late, you having spent most of the day in your room. Not that anybody would really care, but you were tired. Mentally and physically exhausted just from hardly interacting with him for more than ten minutes.

You truly hadn’t really planned on going, but a day later, with the debacle regarding Damian in the kitchen…his words striking a bell and making you realize that nobody was going to notice you on their own. Well you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to prove yourself to your family, and you were tired of being seen as less. Insignificant. A nobody in your own home.

What exactly were you planning to accomplish by attending this event? You had no idea. What were you going to do while attending this event? You had no idea. But somehow it felt…liberating. You had been to plenty of these things before. Bruce dragging all of you along to charity events, balls, galas and many more, but going to one of your choice on your own, and using your own personal savings (which was a lot as it was.) to help raise money for other orphans felt…like you were actually making a difference in Gotham…or at least that’s how you hoped it would feel. But you had never been personally invited to one by Harry Osborn. Honestly you were a little curious as to why he would choose to solely invite you upon meeting for ten minutes on the sidewalk, but you had a feeling your questions were going to be answered there. You wanted people, the press, whoever, to recognize you as Lana Lang, adoptive daughter of Bruce Wayne. It would help your reach and help you succeed in making a difference. You might not have been a vigilante(yet)but you could still help out where you could until that time would come.

Part of you was hoping that your father and siblings would realize how wrong they were about you, and would graciously offer to train you and take you under their wing, and you would become the newest addition to the Batfamily. -That’s what you had taken to calling them over the years,- but that didn’t happen. Ever. It was a foolish and naive fantasy, you had come to realize. So now it was time to take matters into your own hands. You were going to show up there, raise tremendous amounts of money for orphaned children like you years ago, who need help. You were going to work on your vigilante persona later on, and you were going to prove yourself to your family. And you would make Damian eat his words and admit that he was wrong about you. You would make your entire family admit that they were wrong about you.

63 notes · View notes

palettesofrenaissance · 4 months

Text

I thought to drop a link this fic here too because

I have been in a writing rut for over a year

Thought to branch to a different source material and branch out from my usual fluff and happy romance by trying to get into dark fics

I made a one-chapter that's more of a concept about this canon compliant AU

Saw this new film and fell in love with the lady with a beautiful voice that showed up for only like five seconds

Pretty please check it out and let me know what you think.

It's Permanent Marker on my ao3

This could be the start of more content with potentially darker material starring this background character

If you like this please let me know. If you didn't, please be helpful with your words

63 notes · View notes

imtrashraccoon · 5 months

Text

Edit: Future Tumble here! I just wrote a short drabble that is related to this fic. Check it out here!

Or check the rest of the fic out here.

The Nightmare of Apathy: Chapter 1

Word count: 4,712

Nightmare x Female Reader

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ~ ~ ~

"Don't forget to refuel your lantern before you leave!"

You stopped abruptly at the door, groceries in one arm and your other hand on the knob. Glancing down at the lantern swinging from your hip, you saw that while the fuel was low, it wasn't dangerously so just yet.

Mrs. Jones appeared from the back of the shop with a child on one hip. She looked haggard and a rather thin considering she'd had five kids by this point, yet her face was stuck in an annoyed expression. "You know what will happen if you get stuck in the dark..." she warned, although the tone she used sounded like she was scolding a small child.

You shook your head, "Yes, I know, but it's fine. My home isn't far and I'll be able to get there quickly enough if I run."

The shop lady sighed and shook her head. She seemed a bit more stressed than usual and you knew she'd only reminded you about your lantern out of habit from reminding her own family.

"Right. May the Moon keep you..." She turned and returned to the back room to finish whatever she had started doing earlier before you'd stopped by.

You scowled and, more harshly than you should've, responded, "And may he guide you for the night..." You opened the shop door and left, the little bell signaling your exit.

While you knew in your soul that Mrs. Jones was only wishing you to be safe as was custom, you couldn't help but feel disgusted whenever anyone did so. Why should you partake in some stupid religious tradition when it had never been helpful before? You scoffed and descended the steps to the cobblestone road, before beginning to make your way home through the dim streets.

This whole world was cursed and you had been unlucky enough to be born into it. It was perpetually in a cycle of darkness and twilight, but never to be any brighter. Only the stars and the moon pierced the veil of permanent black and granted some relief to its denizens. It was often chilly, even in the warmer months, but the cold of winter was more often than not, deadly to any creature caught without shelter.

It was all you'd ever known and all you would ever know. You were unimportant and worth little more than the clothes on your back. No amount of hard labour could change that, which was a fact that everyone seemed only too glad to remind you of at every little opportunity.

You were lucky to have lived as long as you had. If not for your late grandmother, the darkness would've taken you long ago after your parents both suddenly passed. She was a kind and infinitely selfless woman, who cared for you as if you were her own child. But even she could only give so much and as hard as you'd tried, you were unable to save her when she fell ill last Winter.

Now, you were completely alone. While you were fortunate to have a job working at the local mill, it was hard work and you often had little time for anything else. The pay wasn't great either but at least you only had yourself to worry about. If you needed to, you could skip a few meals here and there to help save money.

You glanced up at the crescent moon and scowled again before quickening your pace. You needed to get home before your lantern did run out of oil or else you'd really be in trouble. While this town had lanterns on each street corner and at major intersections, the spaces in between were often large and nearly pitch black once the shops were closed.

You weren't afraid of the dark per say; you and every other child growing up had quickly squashed that fear early, but it was what lurked in the dark...or what could. While wild animals would certainly be something to fear, a far greater evil dwelled in the shadows. One who no one dared to speak his name carelessly lest his anger be turned on them.

Lord Nightmare.

Even just the thought of his name sent shivers down your spine, for good reason too. He was a god, the Lord of Dusk and Shadows, and the ruler of this cursed world. His word was absolute and he ruled through fear and an iron fist.

No one could stand against him, though countless fools had tried. Yet they'd only served as grim reminders of his absolute power. Not only was he physically powerful, but he was also prone to targeting the mind, even when you weren't anywhere near him. Indeed, constant nightmares were the norm for everyone and the only known temporary relief was by taking an expensive and highly dangerous drug, but when that wore off, the nightmares would only return in full force.

In the face of such bleak hopelessness, it was only natural that people would turn to anything that could promise them even a smidgen of hope. Enter the commonly held worship of the Moon. While you'd never been interested in the schematics of the belief, nowadays it seemed most worshippers only believed in spirit, rather than actively taking part in any actual worship. You only saw it as a superstition, like wishing someone good luck, and didn't actually believe the Moon had any power over someone as powerful as Lord Nightmare.

Of course, when the worship of the Moon came to his attention, he'd threatened to block it out entirely unless his demands were met. He really could block out the moon though, and regularly did so whenever the people were late with the yearly tribute that was really just a tax. Speaking of, he regularly demanded exorbitant taxes that were due each year once Spring had arrived. And if the tribute wasn't deemed good enough in his eyes? He'd lash out and punish everyone severely, be it in the form of increasingly horrible nightmares or whatever other twisted punishment he could think up.

Still, you had more immediate concerns to worry about, like getting home so you could refuel your lantern for one. You still had enough oil to last at least another day or two if you conserved it. For now, you would do what you'd always done, live one day at a time and not worry about things outside of your control. One day, you would save enough money to live in a better house and maybe after that, you could save enough to at least live comfortably.

You were in such a hurry that you almost weren't watching where you were going and you rounded a corner a bit too sharply, nearly barreling into someone. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you and I...." Your apology died in your throat as you regained your balance and saw who it was that you'd collided with.

The girl snarled and shoved you away from her. "Yeah, you'd better be sorry," she grumbled and very obviously looked you up in down, her ugly face curling into even more of a disgusted look.

The ever so wonderful, Catherine "Cathie" Lee, the mayor's daughter and your worst enemy. What you did to warrant her hatred? You still had no idea and you could only remember one time when you were both kids that you weren't able to go to a birthday party of hers. She'd seemingly hated you ever since and it had only gotten worse as you'd both grown up.

To top it off, she wasn't alone. Two other girls stepped around the corner and stood beside Cathie. Their tittering laughter only made you even more angry than you'd already been. Of course all three were wearing matching sparkly pink cocktail dresses and of course they looked like they'd just stepped out of an equally disgusting speakeasy. You could swear they stank of alcohol above all that perfume that was practically cascading off their skin.

You took a deep breath to try and remain calm. "Becky, Marcelle,...Cathie. Lovely evening to be out on the town I see..." You weren't even trying to hide your irritation but you were at least attempting to act civil, even if you were being snarky while doing so.

"Well it was, up until a minute ago," Cathie grumbled.

"Then, you know what, I'll do you a favour and remove myself from your sight," you muttered and rolled your eyes slightly. "Stars know my evening will improve drastically..."

You went to walk past them but Becky and Marcelle moved to block you. You narrowed your eyes at them and tried to go around but they blocked you again, this time trying to restrain you as well.

"Don't touch me!" you growled and yanked your shoulder away from their grasp.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Cathie hissed as she stepped closer to you. She shoved you roughly, causing you to stumble backwards into the arms of her cronies.

They grabbed your shoulders again, much tighter this time so you couldn't so easily pull away. Your bag of groceries you'd been carrying hit the cobblestone and the contents spilled out, much to your irritation. Once again, you tried desperately to pull away from them, but their grip held fast and your efforts were futile.

"You know what, your attitude reeks...must be because you spend all your time in the graveyard!" Cathie shouted in a mocking tone.

"I do not!" you shouted back. "Just because your parents are both alive, doesn't give you any reason to say that!"

Cathie growled and kicked the brown paper bag, scattering the contents across the street. There hadn't been much in it anyways, but much of it was fragile like fresh produce and eggs. She noticed this and made eye contact with you for a moment, before stomping and kicking everything until there was little hope in salvaging any of it.

You fell silent and just stared at her. This wasn't the first time her and her friends had accosted you, and likely wouldn't be the last. Sure, you could buy more food, but you still had to buy oil for your lantern. You weren't due to be paid until next week too.

Seeing the effect her actions had on you, Cathie grinned triumphantly and planted her hands on her hips. "Look what you made me do..." she grumbled and tried to wipe the bottoms of her feet against the stone. "My shoes are ruined, what do you have to say for yourself, Grave Girl?"

You stared passively back and refused to answer. Evidently, this only served to infuriate her and she backhanded your cheek in retaliation. This earned her a harsh glare and you spit at the ground in disgust.

"What do you want me to say? You did it to yourself, so why don't you go beg father dearest for new ones? Or has he finally smartened up and realized how much of spoiled brat you've become?"

Cathie scoffed and waved dismissively at Becky and Marcelle. They let go of your arms and you jerked away as soon as you were free, shooting a glare at them too.

"You worthless rat..." Cathie hissed under her breath as they started to walk away. "You'll pay for this..."

You tentatively touched your cheek and winced slightly from the stinging. That was probably going to swell up and bruise. You would have to deal with people being nosy and staring at you for a couple of days now.

With a sigh, you tried to salvage what you could, which wasn't much. Some of the vegetables could still be used and a small pouch of chili powder hadn't been burst open. Everything else had already mixed with the dirt of the road and by the sputtering of your lantern's flame, you couldn't afford to spend any more time trying to save anything else.

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ~ ~ ~

You were woken rather rudely by heavy pounding on your front door and someone shouting for you to open up. The commotion shook your little shack and you worried they would knock your door off its rusty hinges if you didn't.

It turned out to be the Captain of the Town guard and with him were six heavily armed soldiers. Their weapons were drawn when you opened the door and they immediately set upon you. Roughly pinning you to the ground, they cuffed your wrists together and despite your protests about what was going on, hauled you off to the dungeon.

You were left to stew there for several hours. Your body ached from how rough they'd been with you, even though you hadn't even tried to resist. You probably had many more bruises to add to the one on your cheek now.

There were several questions that swirled in your mind as the hours stretched on. Why me? What did I do? Surely they'll realize this was all just a big misunderstanding, right...?

You were held there for several nights. While you tried to get answers from the guards, no one would explain what was going on and they treated you with the same amount of care as any common criminal. Yet you had committed no crimes so it made no sense.

Catherine Lee. This was her doing...it had to be! She must've gone crying to daddy and spewing lies, for them to treat you this badly. While you could feel the despair threatening to consume you whole, you also began to feel angry. It started out small but with each cold night that you spent rotting in the dungeon, your rage at the injustice of this situation grew more and more.

By the end of the week, they finally retrieved you, although they weren't much gentler this time either. Your wrists were once again cuffed and you were brought into the court house, again with a heavily armed guard as if they expected you to attack someone.

It looked like nearly the whole town had filled the room, save for the children and infirmed of course. However, it immediately became apparent that this was no trial. No, this was your sentencing.

"Ha...guilty until proven innocent? What a joke!"

They still hadn't told you what crime you'd committed and they wouldn't let you plead your case, let alone ask any questions. The only thing they were willing to discuss was the annual tribute.

"What do you mean there isn't enough?!"

"...it was raised last minute..."

"Well what are we supposed to do?!"

"There is one thing..."

They planned to send you as the tribute.

You were stunned.

"This can't be happening..."

Lord Nightmare was flexible when it came to payment, so long as it was on time that is. His subjects could give a majority of their livestock and harvest, which wasn't usually feasible after a hard Winter, or a hefty sum of gold, which was the preferred method. He had never accepted humans as tribute with the closest being the few times he'd accepted some of the best builders, artisans, or crafters to work on his domain. The last time this happened though was at least fifty years ago.

"At least she isn't completely ugly..."

"He's not human, there's no way he'll know any different..."

"...it'll be good to get rid of her...."

You were given a nicer dress and forced to wear makeup to hide the bruises you'd sustained during the arrest. After practically being threatened to go along with this for the sake of the town, you were shoved into a carriage for the several hour journey to Lord Nightmare's domain.

So much for being lucky...

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ~ ~ ~

The forest was so dark. Only the lantern at the front of the carriage permeated a few feet into the inky black. The horses didn't care though and they continued to faithfully pull the carriage through the darkness.

You knew you were close by now. Your nerves felt frayed, like the slightest tug would cause you to unravel completely. You had to be strong right now though, for the sake of your people.

The carriage came to a stop and one of the horses whinnied softly. You could hear the two soldiers disembark and one came to open the door to let you out. You didn't need to be told twice and hopped to the ground with a small huff. The other soldier was talking with two guards in front of a massive iron gate.

You were ushered over to the guards and you could now see that they were far from human. They both towered over the soldiers by at least a foot and you estimated they were probably close to seven feet tall. They appeared like they were wearing plate armour, though it was hard to tell as they were covered in an inky black substance. Their heads seemed to be skeletal and they had sharp teeth as well as cyan pinpricks in their hollow eye sockets. Definitely fitting guards for Lord Nightmare if you were to say.

Frankly, you didn't pay attention to how the conversation went and you were unceremoniously handed over to the skeletal guards. Then the soldiers from your town got back into the carriage again. They left hastily, as if they were afraid Lord Nightmare himself would stop them if they didn't. You didn't blame them, but you couldn't help the wave of disgust that welled up inside you at their obvious cowardice.

You were guided through the iron gate and up a winding path to the castle itself by one of the guards. It was hard to grasp the sheer scale of this place because much of it blended into the night sky, but it was by far the largest building you'd ever seen.

The castle was made of large stone bricks but you weren't an expert on rocks, so they just looked like vaguely dark gray stones to you. Even in the darkness, you could see that the lawns were well manicured and there seemed to be some rather nice landscaping too.

The castle itself was decorated much more opulently than you'd initially expected. Numerous paintings and tapestry hung on the walls, depicting various scenes and themes, and you could tell the creators were far more talented than you could ever dream of being. The rooms were also lit with a variety of different light fixtures like lanterns or candles, but the flames were a light blue and most fixtures seemed to be made from gold.

The further into the castle you were led, the more expensive everything seemed to get. The floors were now covered in long plush carpets with intricate patterns, most of which seemed to be of the stars and the moon interestingly enough.

Finally, the skeletal guard came to a pair of beautifully carved wooden doors and with basically no effort, pushed them open. You immediately realized that this was the grand hall and also the throne room.

There were multiple stained glass window murals depicting what you recognized as the tale of how Lord Nightmare came into power. Weirdly enough, there were a couple of scenes and figures that you didn't recognize though. In the middle of the room was a long table that had room for at least two dozen seats around it, sporting an intricate black lace table runner.

But it was beyond the table that really caught your attention. There, casually lounging on his throne, was the god of this world and the one you now essentially belonged to.

Lord Nightmare himself.

Due to the consistent nightmares, everyone already knew what he vaguely looked like, but to actually see him in the flesh? Well, to put it simply, it was taking everything in you to remain standing and not drop to your knees right now. You could literally feel how powerful his aura was from here and he wasn't even trying to manipulate your emotions, yet.

Lord Nightmare seemed to be a skeleton although he was much different from a human one. Aside from being constantly coated in some sort of black substance, his bones appeared to be wider and thicker, giving the appearance of mass underneath his clothing like he actually had flesh. His phalanges were tipped with sharp claws and adorned with several gold rings, all of which had precious stones embedded into the metal.

On his skull was a circlet formed from gold with a black moon in the center. The black robe he wore was definitely made of the highest quality fabrics to be found and had been tailored to fit him perfectly. Underneath that, he wore a plumb coloured dress shirt with the top button undone, revealing his sternum and the top of his first pair of ribs. While his gray pants looked simple, you knew they were likely far from cheap, and even his shoes were made from a high quality black leather.

His singular glowing cyan eyelight narrowed as he leared down at you from his throne before he beckoned you to approach with a claw. Steeling yourself, you did so, although you hoped he couldn't see how badly your hands were trembling.

"What is the purpose of your visit?" he inquired. His tone of voice was low and it seemed to permeate into the very back of your mind before almost curling up inside. There was a general air of boredom about him at the moment and you really hoped things wouldn't get worse than that.

You took a steadying breath and bowed respectfully. "My Lord, I am here to present the annual tribute from the town Rynbarn," you answered. Your voice was higher pitched than it normally was and your palms felt clammy from how nervous you were.

His eye socket narrowed critically and you could feel the way his eyelight studied you. "Alright, where is it then...?" His tone suggested that he was unimpressed so far and it only caused your heartrate to increase further.

Realizing you should've been more clear, you quickly tried to course correct. "My apologies, I meant to say that they sent me as tribute..." You couldn't help the way your voice trembled at the end of your explanation.

He stared at you for a long time. You couldn't tell if he thought you were lying or if he was simply shocked by what you'd said. You subtly tried to wipe your hands on your dress and shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

He sat up straighter and rested his chin on one of his hands. He definitely didn't seem bored anymore, rather his demeanor seemed more confused than anything. "I see..." he murmured.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your shoes.

He sighed and muttered under his breath. "Are they fools?" His tone suggested that the question was rhetorical and he continued speaking, rather than wait for you to answer. "Or do they care so little for you that they would rather give you away?"

"I wouldn't know really..." you responded quietly. Well, you had some pretty strong suspicions as to what had happened but you weren't about to complain in front of Lord Nightmare and risk upsetting him.

He made a quiet tisk sound and shook his skull. "I'm genuinely trying to understand the situation but frankly, I am more than a little bewildered." Tilting his skull, he studied you once more, trying to make some sense of this.

"Do you have any enemies or anyone that would wish harm on you?" he asked.

You hadn't been expecting a question like that and for a moment debated how you should answer. Ultimately deciding to be truthful, you took a deep breath and looked up at him again. "I'm afraid so, my Lord."

He raised a bonebrow at that and motioned for you to elaborate. "You hardly seem like the type to purposely make enemies. So, tell me why they sent you specifically."

You got the sense that he was only asking to satisfy his curiosity and not because he felt empathetic towards your plight. Nevertheless, you didn't really have the right to refuse him.

"Well... I may have slighted the mayor's daughter once when we were children and she's seemingly had it out for me ever since. I suspect she spread some sort of lie about me and turned the whole town against me," you explained.

For a fraction of a second, the corners of his permanent grin seemed to quirk up slightly before returning to a more passive expression. "A shame," he murmured. A moment later, his low tone shifted and he raised his voice slightly. "So, this whole situation was caused by a childish squabble?"

You shrank back at the sudden change in his demeanor and could feel the way his voice bounced off the walls. While he didn't seem angry per say, you could feel his aura had shifted to a darker emotion from before, which was concerning.

He calmed down again a second later, as if nothing had happened. "Ridiculous..." he muttered to himself and shook his skull. Looking back up, he frowned at the distance you'd created and motioned for you to come closer again.

Only once you'd done so did he speak again. "I am slightly insulted that they thought they could both get rid of you and appease my demands at the same time. However, I can't very well send you back now either..." He trailed off and studied you thoughtfully for a moment.

"Um, if I may..." you started to say, although you almost immediately regretted doing so with how sudden his gaze flicked to your own. "I can be useful...if you're willing to give me a chance?"

He nodded thoughtfully. "As you may have noticed, I already have my own staff, however, something about you intrigues me. Do you have any particular talents? Such as, baking or gardening for instance?" he asked.

You shook your head, but quickly tried to explain before he could become too disappointed. "My late grandmother taught me everything I know about baking and while I remember several of her recipes, I wouldn't say I'm better than any other person. And gardening was more of a hobby of hers but I helped out when she wasn't able to keep up anymore."

To your surprise, he seemed pleased by your response, although the moment was brief before his expression returned to it's previous passive state. "Very well," he hummed. "You will show me what you can do and if it is suitable, then that will be your place here. If not, well..."

He trailed off and held eye contact for what felt like ages. You didn't dare ask what he was going to say next, but it probably wasn't good. Still, you struggled to keep the staring contest going, although you quickly lost your nerve and dropped your gaze to the floor once again.

He reached out and tilted your chin up with a clawed digit, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him again. You hadn't noticed it much earlier, but now his expression was positively frigid. Even without words, his intentions were immediately clear to you now.

Entertaining this chance for you to prove yourself was him showing kindness, but, you only had one chance to do so. He had been far more civil and patient than you'd expected, yet he had no patience for fools or those who would waste his time. He held the power here and there was nothing you could do to change that.

"I expect utmost loyalty from my subjects and you are no exception. Do you understand?" he asked.

You swallowed nervously. "Yes... I understand very well, my Lord."

"Good." He let go of you and leaned back again. Changing the subject, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Aylin, my name is Aylin," you murmured.

His cyan eyelight seemed to glow brighter and a look of recognition flickered across his face. It was enough to send a shiver down your spine, especially when he let out a soft chuckle.

"A fitting name indeed..." he purred.

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ~ ~ ~

Hey, Aylin is a Turkish name meaning "moon halo" or "the one who belongs to the moon". I wasn't originally going to name the reader but it is a very fitting name, wouldn't you say?

Updates may be slow but I intend to post a part two at some point.

#undertale #dreamtale #nightmare #lord nightmare #nightmare x reader #named reader #reader #female reader #the nightmare of apathy #raccoons drabbles

59 notes · View notes

captain-lessship · 1 year

Text

What?

a/n: Beau is the masculine version of Bella and I decided to write them as twins

You were alarmed to say the least. You were sitting in the Cullen’s living room which you hadn’t been in since the Wedding and you were happy you were sitting down.

You were raised in Forks and had known everyone and had gotten to be friendly with the Cullen’s before your twin sister had returned from Florida.

You loved her and were happy to have her back home but if you knew that this is what would have happened to her, you and your Dad both would have shipped her back to Jacksonville.

“Beau?” Bella asked. You snapped back.

“Okay so, let me get this right. I go off to college in Cali and you go on your honeymoon with Edward, get pregnant and you had a kid. But plot twist, he’s a vampire.”

“I knew before.”

“Right, so you married a vampire and had his kid. Who is aging rapidly and almost killed you in utero.”

“Right.” Edward clarified.

“Okay, you, don’t talk to me just yet. I would hate to break my hand by punching you in your face.”

“Actually,” Jacob, your childhood best friend, “She punched me.”

“Sorry, Niece Crush haver, it’s a lot to process.” You huffed, “So you all are vampires, right?”

“Right.” Carlisle said, “You’re doing alright.”

You laughed as you shakily raised the coffee up to your mouth.

“Also, there’s one more thing,” Alice, the first Cullen you befriended started, “You know how I can see the future?”

“Yes?”

“Turns out that you and me are actually going to fall in love.”

“Huh, well, I will admit I did have a crush on you- Anyway, so you,” you pointed at Jacob, “You’re a werewolf, who the Cullen’s and vampires dislike yet you, what was the word?”

“Imprinted.”

“Yeah that, on my niece, who you gave the same nickname as the Loch Mess Monster?”

“Why are both of you upset at that?”

“The Imprinting or the nickname?”

“The nickname!” You and Bella said in unison.

Jacob threw up his hands in defeat.

You sighed, “So, one of my many questions is, what happens now?”

“Well,” Carlisle began, “Know that you know about this, you will need to make a choice.”

You sighed, “That choice.” You said.

The room fell silent. All eyes on you. You knew that if you didn’t, it would bring danger to the Cullen’s, your family and Jacob’s family. You rubbed your eyes, a mannerism you shared with your father, “How long do I have to think about this?”

“I would say five years.”

“Five years.” You repeated, “I just, I need some air.” You stood up and walked to the door.

“Beau! I’m sorry.” Bella said, worry in her voice.

“Don’t be. Happily Ever Afters don’t come to everyone.” You said as you opened the door and walked outside.

You looked up at the stars as if you were looking for answers.

“You’ll catch a cold.” A voice said, you turned back to see Alice, who was carrying your jacket. You put it on and smiled at her.

“So, you and me, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Bet that was a shock.” You laughed.

“Not really, I knew you were looking at me in class.”

You smiled. “Sorry about that.”

“It was kind of endearing because you would always like check to see if I saw.”

“I didn’t know you knew.”

Alice was standing beside you, also looking up at the stars, “I did.”

You thought for a moment, “Tell me, how happy are we?”

“Very happy.”

“What choice do I make?”

“You chose to do it. But you chose it for you.”

“Do I like, nearly die?”

“Yeah.”

You immediately jerked your head to look at her, “Wait actually?”

She started laughing, “No no! But you should see your face!”

“Not funny!” You chuckled.

“Then why are you laughing?”

290 notes · View notes

writer-zie · 1 month

Text

Archway (and a charming shadow)

REQUESTED: yes || no (@luminoustelle)

PAIRING:Ji Cheong-Sin x named fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You've just finished your shift, and are waiting in an alleyway for a bus because your phone is dead. That's a dangerous situation to be in. Especially with evil spirits around.

WARNINGS: harassment, 2 instances of language

A/N: stay safe my guys, make sure your phone is fully charged when you go out, make sure you have a ride home, or at least are sure that there will be a bus or a train or something, don't go into alleyways to wait, especially not in the night (but try to avoid them anyway)!

ALSO I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER, I HAD SUCH SEVERE WRITER'S BLOCK.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

. ▒█▒█▒█▒█▒█▒█▒🔘▒█▒█▒█▒█▒█▒█▒ .

Zero could describe a lot of things in your life right now.

Zero energy, zero signal, and now, zero battery on your phone. You tapped the lifeless screen in an attempt to coax a response out of it, but to no avail. Your shift had already been hard, and this was just the cherry on top.

Maybe catching a bus would be a better option than calling a ride.

You stepped away from the building, but as you were about to cross the road, a drop of water splashed down onto your head.

And then another.

And another.

It didn't take long before the drops turned into a frigid downpour, and you, having nothing to cover yourself, were forced to run backwards into a nearby covered alleyway.

Great.

Could things get any worse?

No battery, no energy, and now no way of getting home on foot without getting soaked.

You grumbled internally at your situation. All you could do was wait.

A presence hung in the shadows. 2, if you counted the spirit.

"Easy kill here, Chun-gi." whispered a tiny voice in the man's ear. His eyes locked onto your back, looking you up and down. He brought a hand down to his pocket, and his fingers closed around the handle of a flip knife.

You were none the wiser to the danger approaching behind you, eyes straight ahead on the road, checking for buses, and staying warm.

Then, suddenly, you felt something behind you. Not a person, no. You'd feel less distressed if it was. You turned around sharply.

Nothing.

Your senses must've been tricking you, but something told you they weren't. The feeling persisted as you turned back around, pulling, nagging, urging you that something was there, something was there, something was there, turn around, turn around, turn around turn around TURN AROUND—

"Nice legs, pretty."

Your head would've flown off had you turned around any faster. You stepped back, now facing away from the road.

You looked the man in the eyes, before backing away to the opposite wall, ignoring the comment. You weren't in the mood for this.

"Aw, come on pretty, don't ignore me!" he persisted, stepping over to you again.

"Leave me alone."

"Heh, you're a feisty one. You've got a nice ass too."

"I said, leave me alone, asshole!"

The man's eyes shrunk into malevolent slits, mouth shifting from the leering grin, to something slightly more aggressive.

"Now that's just rude." he snarled, hand creeping to his pocket.

"Rude girls like you need to be taught a lesson."

The next few seconds stretched out like dripping tar. You saw the telltale glint of a knife in his hand, and immediately turned and ran out of the alley towards the road, before being grabbed by your collar and fully thrown backwards into it.

People can't do that? People can't do that!

No fucking way.

You crawled backwards, getting up a safe distance away, frantically searching for another route out of the alley. 3 paths, 3 dead ends.

One outcome.

Wielding your bag like a club, you scanned for any possible escape route. Climbing the wall? Nothing to hold onto. You could jump on a bin and try from there, but the chance you'd fall was too high.

The man stepped closer.

"She's got no escape, and there's no one here! Now slit her pretty little throat."

He flipped the blade out.

You swung your bag around you, once, twice, before lunging forward and smacking him around the head.

Dazed, he fell.

You made a break for it, dropping the bag, but something grabbed your ankle, and you faceplanted into the pavement.

The man got up, didn't bother to wipe himself off, grabbed your collar, yanked you up, and slammed you against the wall. Now unarmed, all you could do was use your arms to block your face.

Nothing you could do. You'd bleed out in a dinky little alleyway, and your body would be found maybe hours later. He would've gotten away by then.

But you didn't give him the satisfaction of a defeated expression.

"Any last words, pretty?"

"Fuck you."

And as if that expletive was a message to the world that death was not on your agenda today, a voice called out.

"Hey!"

You both turned at the same time. A man stood on top of the wall you'd been planning to climb, pale grey skies making his figure a shadow.

"What do you want." the man said, dropping the knife into his sleeve.

"What are you doing to that lady?" he replied.

"Lady? This is my wife! Isn't that right, honey!"

Obviously you'd protest. And as you were about to, you felt the smooth metal against the back of your neck. One wrong word and you were dead.

And so, letting fear widen your eyes, you nodded, shaking.

"What are you doing! Don't try and steal my kill!"

"I'm not. This host has an annoying sense of morality."

"Leave!"

"I'll try and make him— oh?"

"Oh what?"

"Just got an exciting new proposition. Kill you instead."

"I doubt that. Let go of her."

"Or what?"

He jumped off the wall, landing effortlessly and almost soundlessly.

"Wanna find out?"

"You're dead."

The man, as if he'd heard something, seemed to tremble slightly. The pressure of the knife did not disappear, in fact, quite the opposite, you could feel your skin threatening to give. You gasped.

The man saw your face change, and in a single, fluid, completely unexpected motion, he kicked the man in the jaw. He crumbled like so many bricks. The knife clattered to the ground.

"You're so dead."

He looked at you. Looked at the pouring rain. Looked at your lack of anything waterproof. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folding umbrella.

"Here. I'm guessing the reason you were here in the first place was because of the rain."

You were hesitant. He grinned, and shouted,

"Think fast!"

On reflex, you caught the object. You looked back to the man, teeth bared in a friendly smile.

"I'll deal with this guy later." he said, walking up to you.

"I could walk you to the bus stop, if you'd like?"

"Um...if it's no trouble."

"It isn't."

With one last glance at the unconscious man, your saviour got up and the two of you left the alley together. You put the umbrella up between the two of you, sending raindrops flying and running down the sides.

You walked in stunned silence for a few minutes, brain processing what just happened. You'd come so very close to death, one slip of the hand away from bleeding out on your way back from work. And this man, this mysterious silhouette had jumped off a wall and saved you.

"So, um, I just wanted to say thank you."

He looked down at you.

"It's no worries. What's your name?"

"I'm Yeong-nae. What about you?"

He paused briefly.

"Cheong-sin. I like your name."

"Thanks, my mom gave it to me!"

He chuckled. It was an oddly pretty noise. It might have been random, but you felt yourself get a little warmer.

The shelter of the bus stop got closer as you made your way through the rain, chatting and laughing. The sound faded out into a comfortable silence, and you could hear the bus approaching.

"Well, it was nice meeting you!" he grinned, eyes locking briefly on the bus.

"And you! Maybe I'll see you again?"

He smiled.

"Maybe."

The bus rolled up, you waved goodbye, and he began to walk off, before you realised the umbrella was still in your hand.

"Wait! Your umbrella!" you called out, not daring to chase after him, lest you miss the bus. He looked back with a cheeky grin on his face, before jogging off. Friendly curses left your mouth as you folded it back up and got into the bus, sitting down on the first seat you found.

That interaction remained in your mind for quite a while. A strange, charming silhouette named Cheong-sin. Hopefully you would see him again.

As your bus rumbled down the road he made sure it was out of sight before he dashed back down the pavement, heading back towards the alley.

"You didn't have to waste so much time, you know."

"And you don't have to be so picky but you don't hear me complaining."

The brick arch of the alley made itself known, but the man was gone.

He stepped into the alleyway, footsteps silent like a cat's. The spirit signalled him towards the wall at the opposite end of the alley, and there was a telltale splotch of blood on the umber bricks. Bingo.

"He's still close."

With an impressive leap, Cheong-sin leaped straight up onto the wall, and looked down. Oh, what a pitiful sight. He had clearly attempted to climb the bins and escape over the wall, but his head was still scrambled so he'd cut himself on the knife, and fallen into the bushes behind.

"Hello again."

"Go to hell."

"Already done that one."

"Traitor!"

"Relax, you'll just be making me more powerful. Greater good, you know?"

He hopped down into the shrubs, crouching over the man's body as his eyes bled into crimson. There were no screams, barely a struggle as the ash-cloaked blue smoke of a corrupted soul was forced out of his mouth, and into Cheong-sin's, his eyes showing to black, veins twitching at the sudden surge of power.

The body was left in those shrubs as Cheong-sin took a flying leap onto the roof, landing effortlessly. Brushing himself off, he cracked his back before staring into the road, the red top of your bus disappearing into the distance.

Maybe he would see you again.

14 notes · View notes

imtherain · 8 months

Text

With Love From Me (Prince Nuada): Part One

Heyo!

This is a very special (first half) of a fic for the lovely @lokanda. (Rumor has it that it's her birthday today)

It took my almost six months to write this part, hopefully I can finish the rest by her next birthday!

May I present my first Prince Nuada fic, completely requested by the birthday girl! Not only have I not written for the Hellboy fandom in like three years, but I have never written for the smexy elf prince before, but he sure is pretty to look at.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, court politics maybe? Getting chased, making friends, maybe a touch of potential "chase the hare" adventures in the next part, we'll see

Anywho:

“This is your duty, you do not get to argue with it,” Her father said, face stern as he looked down at her from his throne. “You are a Princess, Scionia, this is what you were born for,”

“But Father, I have never met this man,” She said. “How could I possibly hope to love him?”

“This marriage, like all other royal marriages, does not require love.” King Hextern said. “I will not hear any more of this from you, Prince Nuada, and his father, King Balor, will arrive tomorrow. You are to be presented to them and wed by the time the moon is full.”

“But that’s only three days from now,” The Princess said. Her father gave her a hard look.

“It seems I may have been too lenient on you, my dear daughter, for you clearly do not wish to do what must be done,” He sighed. “This is the way of this world, even I, a King, cannot change that,”

“What if he’s cruel? What if he’s a monster? What if he can’t stand to look at me?” She demanded, fear of the unknown rising with claws to choke her.

“I have been told he is quite nobel, highly educated, and also a warrior. On all accounts, you could certainly do worse.” The King told her. But she didn’t want to hear that it could be worse because this felt like the worst already.

“I agree to meet the Prince, but I cannot agree to marry him,” Scionia said with more defiance than she’s ever used against her father before. The King just sighed heavily with a nod, knowing that she would do as she was told either way, but for now, he let her fight it. It would not matter after tomorrow anyway.

The next day came too quickly.

Princess Scionia was put into the finest dress she owned. It was silky and black like the night sky. It hung from the swells of her hips to the floor, covering her modest silver slippers. The sleeves reached the bottom of her fingers and belled out under her palm. Her maids wrapped her equally dark hair up into braids, threaded through with silver thread. They added fine silver jewelry, earrings, necklaces, rings on several fingers. And finally, they closed in her torso with a sort of metal corset that ran from her navel to just under her sternum, fitted on all sides, and unyielding. Just like the task she would have to face once the Elves from the other kingdom arrived.

“You look beautiful, your Highness,” Mirla, one of Scionia’s maids said, catching her mistress watching herself in the mirrors.

“Thank you,” She said, but try as she might to agree, Scionia couldn’t help but feel like the prized animal, cleaned and dressed for sacrifice at the altar of a god that wasn’t hers.

“I know it can be quite frightening to think about,” Draga said. Draga was the only maid that was older than Scionia, as she had been a handmaid to her mother before she’d passed. “But you will do well. And all of your maids will come with you once you leave for the Prince’s Kingdom,” She meant it as a comfort but it only made Scionia feel dread.

“Do you think it’s far?” Scionia asked the older woman. Truth be told, Draga had always felt like more of a mother than the Queen ever had. The Queen was always too busy being doted on or complaining that she wasn’t being doted on enough. She had very rarely wanted her daughter anywhere near her unless she was to dote on the Queen as well.

“I do not know much about Bethmoora,” Draga said. “But they are the Children of the Earth, I can’t imagine where they come from being so vastly different from here,” She gave Scionia a warm smile. “And even with all the changes, you will never be alone,”

Scionia looked at her maids, three in total. Each one looked at her kindly and she wondered what would become of them when she followed through on the plan she concocted the night before and fled the kingdom. She hoped that her Father would not blame them for her escape.

“I have been very lucky to have all of you in my life,” Scionia smiled at the women fondly.

“As are we,” Draga said, pulling the princess into a hug. “As are we,”

“May I present to you, King Balor of Bethmoora, his son, Prince Nuada, and his daughter, Princess Nuala,” The Herald announced. Princess Scionia, while used to similar proceedings, felt dread slide down her spine at this particular announcement.

The court of King Balor came into the large throne room like bees spilling from an overturned jar. Various people and creatures, filling the space between King Hextern’s own court. Scionia watched her people mingle with these newcomers trying not to look at the royalty that she would be forced to face.

She reminded herself of her plans. Wait for dinner, the feast would distract most everyone. Any guards would be laughed away with lies about needing to stretch her legs. She’d collect her bag from where she’d hidden it by the walls outside, and she’d slip off into the trees. From there? Anywhere. As long as she was free.

“Princess Scionia,” Her name drew her back to the task at hand. King Balor was speaking with her father, having already taken the large throne next to him. To her surprise, it was the Princess, Nuala, who had said her name. “May my brother and I join you?” She asked. Her eyes were gold and soft, full of that light you only saw in spring, filtered through the newest of leaves.

“Of course, Princess,” Scionia said, surprised at the way she relaxed when Nuala took the seat directly to her right. Prince Nuada stood looking at her for a long moment, surely taking stock of his future bride, deciding if it was worth the trouble to go through with the wedding.

“It is my honor to meet you, Princess,” The Prince said formally. He offered her his hand and she took it. He bent his knees to bow to her, a sign of respect that made her skin tingle. She wasn’t used to respect from other royals.

“It is my honor,” Scionia replied. Unlike his sister, Nuada’s eyes were solid pools of gold. Hard, like the polished discs that the Queen used to wear. As for the rest of him, he was clearly strong, honed. It wasn’t hard to tell that he had been trained and molded from the day he was born to be exactly what he was right now, standing before a Princess who knew he would never love her. Men molded like that never loved.

The Prince moved to take the seat opposite his own father, and the farthest from where Princess Scionia sat.

“You have such beautiful eyes, Princess,” Nuala said with a small smile. “I’ve never seen such color,” Scionia smiled back, a slight blush coming up her neck at the unexpected compliment. Most people in her kingdom thought her eyes were too strange. They were not her father’s eyes, not her mother’s.

“Thank you,” Scionia said.

“Where does such a shade come from?” Nuala asked innocently. Scionia thought for a moment. The lilac shade of her irises had never been something to dwell on. If anything, it had always been a point to be avoided.

“I’m not sure,” Scionia said.

“They are quite lovely,” Nuala decided. Some of the servants came out and carried in a long table for the royals to eat on. “I must admit, when Father told us that we were coming here to get my brother a bride, I was a bit excited,”

“Is that so?” Scionia tried to sound aloof on the matter. Nuala seemed genuine enough, and perhaps part of Scionia who would have, at some point, wished to have a friend amongst the Royals, felt a little bad that she would not see the Princess again.

“Of course!” Nuala said. “And I look forward to having a sister,” Scionia felt her heart twist a little bit. Poor Nuala would be so disappointed.

“Tell me about your kingdom,” Scionia said as porters began bringing out the celebratory feast. And Nuala did. She told Scionia everything she thought the princess would like, about the library that extended for miles underground. How some days when the sun set, it looked like the castle was on fire, and so beautiful. How Nuala would show her everything if she wanted her too.

“What about your Brother?” Scionia asked. “Tell me about him,” She knew she was fleeing tonight, that it would not matter, but still, she was curious as to who she was leaving behind.

“He can be a little bit, serious,” Nuala’s eyes dipped as though someone had caught her staring. “And he is steadfast in all of his beliefs,”

“We call that hardheaded,” Scionia mused. Nuala nodded.

“But he cares about his people, and he will take good care of you,” Her golden eyes came back up to Scionia’s face, alight with springtime and mirth. “And he is quite honorable, so if you decide you do not like him, he will leave you alone,”

“Husbands aren’t known for keeping their distance,” Scionia scoffed.

“Nuada is many things,” Nuala tried again. “But he will not do anything to hurt you,”

“Thank you, Princess,” Scionia said with a small smile. If nothing else, Nuala was a good sister, and after spending the night talking together, Scionia found herself almost sad to know she’d never see the elf Princess again, would never get to be her sister.

As the dancing and celebrating became the noise of the evening, Scionia moved on her plan.

“I am afraid I need to go get some air,” Scionia said with what she hoped was a convincing amount of normality. “Please excuse me,” Princess Nuala stood with her.

“Allow me to come with you, I’d love to see the gardens. I only barely caught a glimpse of them on the way in,”

“I was planning on going back to my chambers for a bit actually,” Scionia pivoted. “I need to refresh myself. You should stay and enjoy the party. Though, if that man there,” Scionia pointed to one of the men of her Court. “Tries to come dance with you, don’t do it. He’s all hands,” Scionia winked at her new, if fleeting, friend and headed off towards her room.

Princess Nuala watched her go before turning to meet eyes with her twin brother. He had asked her to speak with his bride-to-be and she had succeeded in that. He was happy to hear she wouldn’t be a complete waste of time. When Prince Nuada joined his sister in the local princess’s seat, he smiled fondly at her.

“At least she’s not a complete bore,” Nuada smiled. “And you do seem to like her,”

“I do,” Nuala agreed. “I think maybe you should speak with her as well, she avoided any questions I posed about the marriage,”

“Did our Princess say where she was going?” Nuada asked, picking at some of the fruit that lay on the table before him. He looked completely at ease there, leaned back in the chair comfortably. As if this was his own kingdom and not someone else's.

Nuala looked off down the hallway Scionia had disappeared down.

“She said she was headed to her chambers for a bit,” Nuala told him. The prince hummed, but when he stood, his sister stopped him.

“Don’t do anything untoward,” She warned, knowing exactly what he might do without thinking of the repercussions. Like barging into her chambers unannounced.

“You wound me, dear sister,” He said. She released his arm and he went off in search of his bride-to-be.

He was surprised to find himself standing in her empty bed chambers, the only sign that she had even entered the room since dinner was her dress, haphazardly tossed across the end of the bed. Prince Nuada smirked to himself. If she was a runaway bride, he best go find her before she got too far away.

Scionia was deep in the forest when she finally stopped for a moment to breathe. She'd done it, she'd run. She would be free of her obligations to the stranger and his handsome golden eyes.

She was surprised to hear the sound of a single horse up on the road.

Suddenly glad she had wandered down into a hollow to rest, she laid herself flat against the ground hoping the rider would pass. She heard the horse snort and the sound of hooves moving away. Scionia let out the breath she was holding.

"The thought of marriage is this offensive to you?" A familiar voice said from the hill above her. Scionia cursed and turned around to look up at the very smug Prince Nuada looking down at her. He had his arms crossed and she couldn't help but admit he looked divine in the light of the filling moon.

"How did you find me?" She demanded. She got to her feet and began looking for exits. It wouldn't be hard for her to turn and bolt between the trees, but she was past the part of the forest she was familiar with and the thought of getting lost was not ideal.

"Did you think you were being sneaky?" He asked with an almost appalled tone. "I'm sorry to say you would have only been easier to find had you been singing,"

"I'm not going back," Scionia said.

"Funny, I don't believe I asked," he was smiling because he found this whole thing charming. She was no wilting flower and he admired that. Plus she was squaring up to either run or fight and he was excited to see which one would win out.

Scionia watched the Prince move towards her, knowing that he meant to take her back, and knowing that meant she’d have to marry him. So she turned on her heel and ran.

For a second, she thought maybe he would not chase her on foot.

Suddenly, Nuada was before her, arms still crossed. Almost as thought he hadn’t chased her and had instead simply appeared there. Scionia came to a stop and he smiled at her.

“You didn’t even try,” He was grinning as though this was some sort of game, and Sciona was a bit annoyed at how soft she felt seeing the humor on his stern features. In some other life, perhaps he really would have been someone she would have liked to marry. But in this life? He was a Prince, and she was a Princess, and there could never be love between them.

Kingdoms never left room for love.

She bolted again, this time headed towards the mountains. She knew there were more places to hide there, that she should be able to lose him in the underbrush, or slip into a cave before he spotted her. Scionia couldn’t hear if he had followed her, but she didn’t dare look back.

Safety.

Scionia collapsed in one of the caves she had aimed for. Surely, he hadn’t followed her that much farther. He had better things to do than chase her. Who would have wasted their time with her anyway? There were probably a hundred other princesses that Nuada could marry just the same.

Scionia did feel a little bit bitter at the thought.

She was sitting against one of the cold stone walls when she heard whistling. Her heart leapt to her throat as she realized he had followed her. That he knew exactly where she was.

His voice carried easily into the cave when he spoke.

“Are you in there, Princess?” His voice was full of humor, like he was playing hide and seek. “I know you’re somewhere close,”

Scionia pulled herself to her feet and reached for the knife she had kept concealed. If she was honest, she really wasn’t sure how to use it for combat, but she’d watched plenty of the soldiers train with both close combat and swords, so it couldn’t be that hard, right?

She closed her eyes, listening for him, hoping that he moved on without finding her. But when she opened her eyes, there he was, smiling at her, his body blocking her escape.

“And what do you plan to do with that, Princess?” Nuada asked. His hands at his sides, shoulders shifting. She could tell he was honed sharper than the blade that she clenched in shaking hands.

“Let me leave and do not follow me,” Scionia said. Her voice was stronger than she expected it to be, but she was grateful for that.

“Leave? You are to be my bride, if you flee, I will follow.” The Prince said seriously. “I will always follow you,” The solemness of the vow startled her. It felt like a confession maybe, or a prayer, as if she were the altar he planned to pray to for the rest of his life.

But she had come too far to be swayed by pretty words.

[Masterlist]

[Mini Masterlist: Hellboy]

#prince nuada #hellboy #named reader #lackofpamcakes #imtherain #hellboy 2004 #hellboy golden army #sort of a request actually

23 notes · View notes

emsgwenstan · 4 months

Text

Larissa Weems and violet from my ongoing fic personal or professional? Clearly not incredible but oh well.

@sabraaabra

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #wednesday #gwenchrist(ie)#wlw fanfic #principal weems #named reader

19 notes · View notes

eveandtheturtles · 11 months

Text

Through Fire and Smoke part 2

Ship: Bayverse!Leo X Named!Reader

Summary: Leo and you are going on a date. You find out more about him. More than you expected. Happens during chapters 8-10 of Started with a Kiss (my Donnie x OC fic).

A/N: Hope y'all excited for more Amelia and Leo lol. Everyone here is in an adult unless stated otherwise. First part is in my masterlist! Reader is a Firefighter. I didn't expect this chapter to be split into two but it did lol. The next part, should be the final part probably. There might be more. Here's some tags!

@madammuffins @m1dnyt3-w0lf @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @pheradream-15 @tinkabelle19 @scholastic-dragon @dilucsflame33 @sharpwindow

(if anyone wants to be removed lemme know)

After the little rescue you did for Leo you two kept in touch, especially since you set up a date. The text conversations you had with him were the highlight of your day. You found out he was a little bit of a geek from the way he talked about shows and even admitted to have a small collection of posters and action figures he shared with his younger brother, Donnie. He was charming but you loved teasing him the most. He had the best reaction to that. The no-nonsense exterior would crack a little revealing a more relaxed, pun-loving Leo. You enjoyed that guy

You didn't know what you expected from your date with the mysterious mutant turtle. Which meant some wild guessing on how to dress for it. Maybe something like Lady and the Tramp style? You imagined a date in back alley with two Chinese chefs serenading you over orange chicken. Ridiculous.

Then maybe a day before the date he revealed something you needed a moment to process.

[Smoked Turtle: Hey so I figured there's something I should have told you sooner]

You read the message and a sliver of anxiety creeped up at you. You quickly pushed it back and wrote back

[You're secretly a 6 foot tall turtle living in a sewer?]

[Smoked Turtle: -snort- very funny.]

[I'm here all week]

[Smoked Turtle: but seriously, you should know this before we go on a date]

[Fire away, sir.]

He started typing. The three dots blinked on your screen for a minute, two. Then they stopped. Then appeared again. Finally, he sent the message.

[Smoked Turtle: Im poly.]

The three dots were still on your screen.

[Smoked Turtle: I have a bf his name is Jake]

Ah. Well, you didn't exactly expect that. You thought he might tell you he's alien prince or dying or that he was raising a clutch of baby mutant turtles (was that even the correct term? You needed to google that).

[Well, thank you for telling me this. I'm guessing he knows about you planning on going on a date with me?]

[Smoked Turtle: Yeah. I told him about you and he didn't object. He knows I'm poly too and we had discussion about it and all.]

[Smoked Turtle: You can back out if this is uncomfortable for you.]

You thought for a moment. One of your coworkers were poly. You recalled her gushing about her partners but also complain about the issues she had. You weighted your own feelings.

[Thank you for telling me this.]

You paused because, wow that did put you in a spin.

[So, we're still up for 8pm tomorrow?]

[Smoked turtle: Yes. Do you have any questions?]

[Well, we're not serious yet, I'll just process through it and I'll shoot them your way when I have them. One girl at the station is also poly. So it's not as strange for me as you'd think.]

You couldn't tell over the text if he relaxed more or was still anxious so you switched the conversation to something lighter.

The next day you were bouncing a little checking the clock. Right on time, maybe even a few minutes early, Leo knocked on your window.

"Hi," you greeted him as he waited for you on the fire escapes.

"Hey." Leo smiled at you. "You look nice."

"Thanks!" You replied happily.

It was definitely a change of outfit for you. Nothing fancy, since you knew you were going to just grab Chinese but. And it was getting cold outside. So you picked your nicest sweater jacket and a long, light brown coat, jeans and pair of cute boots. To make it even nicer you added your favourite hoop earrings you normally couldn't wear.

"So how are we getting to the place, because I doubt we can take a walk or taxi?" You asked him, climbing through your window to him.

"You're right, we can't," he agreed. "You will experience the what we call Turtle Express." He offered you his hand and you took it looking at him curiously.

"Hope you're not too attached to your hairstyle," he added suddenly tightening the grip on your hand and pulling you against his chest.

"What?" Was all you managed to say before he jumped up.

Now you knew why it was called 'Turtle Express'. Leo was moving at what you perceived as almost the speed of light. You noticed you were yelling about halfway to your destination. You looked up at his face and there was just pure glee on it. Motherfucker. It looked good on him.

Finally, with a final jump down and a bit of a backflip (which you suspected he did totally on purpose) you two landed in front of a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. Leo set you down gently to the ground, holding you until your legs stopped shaking.

"You're kind of an ass, you know that?" You said and he grinned.

"Sorry, couldn't help it."

You shook your head amused. You also looked around. "Uh, Leo? Aren't you worried-"

"Hi Mrs. Chang!" Leo called to an elderly woman selling old books, magazines and CDs at the store next to the restaurant.

"Leonardo!" She called back. "Come, come," she waved her thing hand at him. "You can help!"

"Is Kevin not around?" He asked concerned.

"His mother's sick. Good boy went to help her," she informed him. "Said he will be here alter but you're here! You will help this poor old woman."

Leo nodded along. "Sorry, this will take a second," he said.

"I'll help too," you said, curious about this whole situation. You followed behind him.

Mrs. Chang looked at you, her sharp eyes eyeing you from head to toes. "Who's this?" She grinned at Leo. He quickly grabbed crates from the front and started carrying them inside. Clearly, done it before.

"I'm Amelia, nice to meet you, ma'am." You introduced yourself. You followed behind Leo.

Between you two closing up the store went super quickly. You also got front seat to witness the strength of the turtle, when he would easily grab four or five crates like they weighted nothing. Show-off. It was still a nice show.

"Tell your father, he is going to lose mahjong this week!" Mrs Chang told Leo as they were finishing up. "I feel good fortune in my bones."

Leo snorted. "I will Mrs Chang."

The old woman pulled him down a little.

"I like this girl! She's nicer than that boy," she said that you were sure was supposed to be a whisper but came more of a stage whisper.

"Okay, Mrs Chang. I'll text Kevin he doesn't need to come to help you." He smiled and straightened up.

"Good bye Mrs Chang!" You called and the two of you headed for the restaurant. "So what's that all about?"

"Ah... well... I'll tell you once we're inside." He opened the door for you, leading you inside.

The air was heavy with the smells from the kitchen and the steam from the cooking dishes. It smelled deliscious. There were some guests in it and it seemed all of them knew Leo. And his father apparently.

You both sat down at a free table and soon a waitress joined you.

"Hey Leo, what can I get for you two?" She asked.

"Hi Mei. For start I'll take a beer." He looked at you to see your choice.

You looked at the menu. It was a big laminated page. And it was all in Chinese. "Uh."

Leo chuckled and fliped it over. There. English. "Oh thanks," you briefly scanned what they had. "Yeah beer is good for start," you smiled.

"Okay, I'll be right back." The girl left you to decide on food.

"So~" you slowly started, "not that I mind and all but how come you can be out in the open here?"

"Oh, uh, well," Leo chuckled awkwardly, "there was a lot of trouble here happening. So we would drop by often to deal with it and people started talking among each other. One day we got a call from one of the shopkeepers we saved before. We rushed in ready to do our thing but then... turns out everyone got together to throw a party in hour honor." He looked over in the direction of the kitchen with a fond look. "They told us we don't have to hide here. So we drop by every now and then. My dad comes here to play Mahjong."

You nodded, feeling warmed up inside. It gave you faith in humanity that people would accept Leo and his family.

Mei returned briefly to bring you drinks and take your food order. The conversation started flowing. Leo asked you about your work at the Firestation and you had couple laughs from the stories about your coworkers but also the calls you had. You watched him being excited about the new comic books he got into. It was so cute and charming to see his face lit up and some of the weight you saw him carry just fall off.

Plus the food was deliscious. There were no musicians but you had a bit of a Lady & the Trump moment when you wanted to try his food and he placed some of his potion on your plate without a hesitation.

There were people coming in the restaurant, most of them were greeting Leo and he was waving back. Some would approach your table and chat with him. He introduced you to everyone who approached and engaged you into the conversation.

You were having fun. More than you had in a long time. Finally, it was getting dark and it was time to get you home. Your eyebrows raised when he offered to pay for everything.

Leo cleared his throat. "You know how we from time to time cooperate with organized crime, yeah? It pays enough to take a pretty girl on a date some time," he explained, once the two of you left the restaurant.

"I didn't know there was a third person here," you teased. You smirked and looked around as if looking for that 'pretty girl'. He snorted and shook his head.

You two started walking slowly.

"You're uhm," he shifted on his feet awkwardly. "You're more than pretty. You're beautiful."

You felt your cheeks flushed. "Thank you, you're not too bad yourself," you said and bit your bottom lip, feeling shy all of a sudden. The way Leo looked at you then looked away with a small smile, told you you managed to fluster him a little too.

"SO!" You exclaimed to chase that away. "When are we going to do this again?"

Leo did a double take at you. "You want to-?" His eyes were so large. He barely believed you said that.

"Yes, very much so," you reassured him. "You can text me later, we'll arange something." You bumped into his shoulder. Then you slipped your hand into his and making him go speechless. "Any other fun activities for today?"

"I- w- huh, uhm, yes!" Briefly he had a trouble finding his tongue but eventually he got there, grinning widely.

Next you knew, you were scooped up from the ground. Maybe one day you were going to get used to the turtle express.

A few hours later you were back at your place. You were a little tipsy but also giddy from the date.

"Thank you Leo," you told him, sitting on the window sill. "I had a lot of time today."

"Yeah, me too." He was leaning a bit inside, holding the window panel up. "Thanks for giving me a chance."

"You're ridiculous, why wouldn't I?" You said and maybe on impulse you leaned closer and kissed him. His lips had fascinating texture. Strange, alien but familiar enough you wanted more. He leaned into you. His hand wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck. You nudged his lips with your tongue and he let you in. The weight of his hands sparked fire inside you. It's been too long. He felt so solid against you.

You worked around strong guys and by no means were you a delicate woman. Still something in the way he held you made you feel so prescious.

You traced with your deft, blunt nails slipped under his mask, tracing down the back of his skull. The growl you caused made you snap back to reality.

It was dangerously becoming more heated than you planned. You pulled back, flushed, out of breath.

"Text when you get home." You whispered against his mouth. Regretfully pulling back.

"Yeah," he said, his lips stroking yours, not sure if he wanted to let you go just yet.

You smiled, your hand sliding down his arm. Leo reluctantly slipped back outside. Neither of you remembered how and when he came into your flat. You watched him stand there for a moment. You waved at each other. He inched to the edge of the railing. Just before he jumped down he looked over his shoulder. A soft smile on his face was matching yours. When he disappeared you closed the window.

You needed a really cold shower.

#leonardo x reader #leo x reader #leo x you #tmnt 2016 #bayverse turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt #eve scribbles #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fanfiction #named reader

23 notes · View notes

purriteen · 3 months

Text

Ad victor spolia, chapter three

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years)

author's note: this is where it gets really toxic, so be prepared please this is so OOC I’m ashamed

word count: 2,678

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Perhaps it was about image after all. Your brother had invited guests to what you had assumed was a private dinner, just the two of you. You recognized Strabo Plinth and his wife sitting at his right, but he’d saved you a seat next to him. Deep down you had hoped that their spending time together was just some phoney traumabond, after all Coryo’s classmate and fellow peacekeeper - their son - had been executed for treason when they were both serving together out in twelve, and the boy didn’t seem to have a lot of friends, at all. You knew why, of course. He was district. You still remembered the gossip surrounding him when you had first started middle school. He was in the same class as your brother, and the year after that they both went on to the Academy. Even kids your age were talking bad about him behind his back.

You gritted your teeth as you walked over to him, feigning a smile when he pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit. You obliged. Only now did you get a good look at the people sitting around the table. You only recognized a handful, as some of the other high-up politicians working alongside your brother and an old classmate of his. Mrs Plinth gave you a warm smile, pointing towards a couple steaks neatly arranged on a platter not far from where you were sitting and saying something you couldn’t quite make out. You smiled and nodded, leaning over to grab the smallest piece you could find.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. It felt like he was testing you - first he neglected to tell you about whatever this was, and now he wanted to see how you’d react. If you’d finally learned to think quickly on your feet. If your presence could actually be useful in these events. Even the gown felt like a test - presumably to figure out if you’d look good on his arm. Like he was trying you on, rather than having you try the dress on.

All that dining etiquette Coriolanus had forced you to learn when you were barely ten years old still stuck with you. That was the first time you got a good glimpse of your father in him. His impatience, the complete lack of compassion, the way he smacked your wrists for getting something wrong. At that point Tigris had intervened, but Grandma’am had simply shrugged it off and told some anecdote starting with ‘back in my day’.

You refused to even acknowledge his presence. You hadn’t been prepared for this, you knew you were still too vulnerable. Maybe that’s why he did it; if you broke down or embarrassed him in front of other people again, he’d have all the more reason to isolate you and keep building off of the story of his mentally distraught little sister. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that.

You gloated in the fact that his guests seemed to take more of an interest in you than Coriolanus for a brief moment. An older woman you faintly recognised remarked on how much you’d grown since she last saw you. Another jokingly pointed out how you’d been the one to inherit your mother’s good looks. A pleasant laughter erupted from right next to you at this, but you could sense the tension in your brother’s voice.

Your heart was pounding in your chest when you replied, “Oh, but Coriolanus inherited one thing I didn’t, our father’s talent for scheming.” You meant it as a half-joke, but you could tell by the subtle tightening in his jaw that Coriolanus wasn’t pleased. Meanwhile it took the other guests a second to determine that it was okay to laugh.

It was laughable how shallow they all were, how they so loyally danced around on the minefield that was their president’s ego, all for just a glimpse of power.

By the time dessert was served you were deep in conversation with the man sitting on your left, feigning interest in his latest endeavours within finance as he tried to work his charms on you. You were surprised at first, but you supposed it made sense that an up and coming young weasel businessman would try and use you and your brother’s position to better his own standing.

You figured you could always use the excuse of common courtesy if Coriolanus decided to confront you about it afterwards. You’d never admit it, but you relished in the knowledge that you were getting on his nerves, and that you still managed to be subtle enough for him to not intervene. You reckoned that you were playing your cards well.

Until the guests started to leave one by one. Eventually you had to say goodbye to the young man who you’d learned was named Salus Bellthorn - judging by his last name he wasn’t anyone important, likely the son of one of your brother’s colleagues or similar - and one of your brother’s old classmates, who was surprisingly well-rounded.

Finally, it was just you, Coriolanus and the Plinths. You tried to remain polite, despite the distaste you felt for them for splitting up your family and humiliating Grandma’am. All you could think about was how she had died thinking her grandson had ditched her for a couple of greedy district folk. Soon enough he took notice of your suddenly uptight demeanour, making up some half-assed excuse about fatigue.

You didn’t like the thought of potentially allowing your reputation to become collateral damage, but you were pleased at the thought of forcing Coryo to clean up after you. He was always excellent at damage control. So it wasn’t surprising when he escorted the two of them to the front door to say goodbye, leaving you behind in the dining room with the remaining servants.

By the time he returned, all of that charm and pleasantry had melted right off of him. He marched right over to you, gripping your arm hard enough to bruise. You winced in pain, and he seemed to realise the two of you were still not alone in the room. He glared down at you as he tugged on your wrist, forcing you to stand up. He visibly cooled down, taking on his usual stoic expression, but you knew better than to think he was calm. “Helvius, clear the table and tell the kitchen staff they’re done for tonight.”

He didn’t even give his chief of staff the chance to reply before practically dragging you back towards the grand staircase, causing you to nearly trip on the fabric of your own dress as he rushed upstairs. Neither of you uttered a single word the entire way back to your room.

When you finally got there, he let go of his calm facade again, showing you the Coriolanus you’d grown to hate. He slammed the door behind you, each of your wrists in one of his pale hands as he held you in place. His eyes frantically searched your face for any sign of weakness, but you refused to allow him the pleasure of seeing you break again.

“Did you enjoy your dinner party, Coriolanus?” You finally inquired, after what felt like hours of glaring at each other in silence. Your voice was dripping with venom as you spoke, taunting him. You watched as anger flashed in his eyes, before he took a deep breath. You liked knowing that he needed to put effort into keeping his cool because of you, despite the fear you felt in this situation. It took you until now to realise how hard your heart was pounding, but you figured you had nothing left to lose.

Just when you thought he’d calmed down, he shoved you down onto the floor, catching you off guard. You grimaced as you crawled back and away from him, all the way until your back hit the side of your bed. He followed, crouching down in front of you and once again trapping you beneath him. He leaned closer, as close as possible with your knees protectively curled up to your chest.

“You find it funny, don’t you?” He spat as he grabbed your chin, pressed between his pointer and his thumb. “Do you enjoy ruining your own future, my darling sister?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone deceptively gentle. “Every time you try to cause a scene in front of me my patience wears thinner, Hersilia. Right now? It is holding on by a thread.” You swallowed hard, struggling to keep up the stone cold, unbothered look on your face.

“Is this the future you want for yourself? You’re here for your own good, but don’t forget. I don’t need a reason to punish you.” He sounded harsher this time. Less filtered. “Even the districts think you’re sick, isn’t that amusing? No matter how much they despise me for simply keeping them in check, they’re no better than your friends. Happy to turn on you on account of gossip and hearsay alone.” He dryly chuckled, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Do you understand the gravity of your predicament yet?” You shiver, the back of his knuckle gently tracing down the exposed skin of your neck, until he gets to the point where it meets your shoulder. His hand slowly, delicately coils around your neck. Your heart nearly stops, and you look up at him. His eyes immediately meet yours, relishing in the fear he can sense in your gaze. Eyeing you like a predator inspecting its next meal.

“Why don’t you just poison me, Coryo? You think I’m a threat, or at best a burden. So why do you not just make me go away? We both know you have the means to!” You whisper, but it comes out more as a hiss, and even then he can still hear the resentment in your voice. You stay like that for a couple of minutes, eyes boring into each other, quiet enough to hear a needle drop. His hands stay right where they are, holding you in place and only threatening to choke, enough to keep you on edge. Your cheeks are burning up, betraying your attempts to show him no weakness.

He finally sighs and gets back up on his feet. He doesn’t move though, gesturing for you to get up as well. “I do not hate you. I do not wish to see you dead. You on the other hand,” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “You don’t seem to feel the same way. You keep pushing me away, after everything I’ve done for you.” He reaches out his hand, and you reluctantly place your own in his and allow him to pull you back up.

“Tell me, dove. Do you even realise how much I’ve sacrificed for you?” He waits for a second as if expecting an answer to his clearly rhetorical question, before continuing. “When you were little, Grandma’am couldn’t even look at you. Not after what happened to our father, she didn’t want to get attached. And Tigris, she tried, but when you got sick, she started to act like you were already dead. I stole food for you, slept next to you by the fireplace for a week until you started to get better. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” He continued, a vulnerability, gentleness, in his voice that you couldn’t remember hearing from him ever before. It sickened you as much as it tugged on your heartstrings.

“Everything I’ve done I’ve done to protect you. You’re a direct target for my opponents, and likely even common men. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, dove,” He caresses your cheek, your head nearly spinning as you try and process all of this. “Ever since I returned almost five years ago now, you’ve been so distant, so cold. I was too busy trying to secure our finances to see that you were slipping away from me.” You could hear the trembling in his voice, see the bottled up desperation in his eyes.

“I just want to keep you safe, Silia. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Now he’s whispering directly into your ear, the hand previously wrapped around your neck now gently caressing your shoulder. “I won’t lose you like I did mom and dad, like I did Grandma’am. I regret so much that I didn’t try harder to be there for you, even when Tigris shut me out,” He shakily exhales, his words making you finally snap out of it.

Your hands press against his chest, firmly pushing him away. You’re awestruck by the dishevelled, vulnerable look on his face at first. “What, what do you mean, Tigris shut you out?” He runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Don’t you remember how cold she was after I returned? She didn’t even want me to be alone with you, you know. I figured she would’ve told you something, perhaps warned you to stay away from me. God, she was always envious, Silia, envious because she’ll never experience what we have, envious because she’s an only child. Can’t you see that?”

Your brows furrow, sitting down on the bed as you try to take a moment to think this through. But he immediately descends upon you again, crouching down once more and holding your bare, shaking hands in his as he attempts to make eye contact. “Don’t be like that, Hersilia. Don’t shut me out again. You know I’m the only one around here who truly cares about you. Why else would Tigris have abandoned you? Why else would your friends be so easy to bribe into leaving you? Why else,”

He pauses, gently grabbing your chin and tilting it to make you look him in the eye, “Would I keep you here, as close to me as possible, when I could’ve sent you off to a mental institution, tried to do away with you? You mean so much to me, Silia. I just want to keep you safe. You won’t ever have to worry about going hungry again, about being kicked out on the street, about being found out as a fraud and humiliated by your peers. You have to understand, I was so afraid that you would break, that I’d lose you too. I truly believed that the only way to keep you safe was this.” He just keeps going, overwhelming you with all these new revelations.

“Please. Coryo,” You meekly whisper out, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I need time to think, you’re, you’re confusing me so much and I don’t know what to feel,” You babble on, tears turning into sobs that wrack through your small frame. “You scare me, Coryo, your mood swings, this constant game of push and pull, it scares me,” You hiccup, and before you know it he’s got his arms wrapped around you, pressing your face into his chest as he strokes your hair, hushing you.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay, you’re gonna be just fine. Won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He kisses the top of your head, and you have no choice but to accept his shallow attempts at comforting you. You realise that he thinks that he’s got you now, that you believe him. You’re not sure if you do or if you’re still strong enough to resist him, but in this moment all you can do is fall apart over and over again in his arms, allowing yourself to forget for a moment why you only have him left to turn to in the first place.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is overcome by a sick sense of satisfaction as you unravel right in front of him. He’s far past the point of feeling guilty now, no. He’s certain he can shape you into exactly what he wants in time, but he hasn’t forgotten how you tried to embarrass him tonight.

He’ll make sure you won’t forget it, too.

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse

#banner credit: @benkeibear #dead dove do not eat #minors dni #dead dove fic #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #named reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #thg fanfiction #eventual smut

170 notes · View notes

giraffenamjoon · 11 months

Text

High Heat (Chef!Seokjin x Named Reader)

I’m back on my nonsense again everyone. If you liked Sanctuary Between Words and/or honey (when you need it), please consider checking out my newest fic, High Heat!

Summary: You’ve known Kim Seokjin since you were kids. He’s beaten you at every competition, on every test. Now he’s stolen the life you always wanted and you’d be happy if you never had to see him again. (And maybe if he also fell into a volcano.) Naturally, your parents want nothing more than to make him part of your hardworking family.

Seokjin has excelled at everything in his life and none of it makes him happy. He’d love nothing more than a chance to do it all over again. The problem is, if he sacrifices everything he’s worked his entire career to accomplish to chase his childhood dream, does that also mean losing his childhood love?

Rating: M (for now)

Chapters: 3/12 (updates weekly)

Pairings: SeokjinxNamed Reader; YoongixHoseok

Tags: One-sided love, one-sided enemies to lovers, childhood crushes, named reader, disabled reader, chronic pain, chef!AU, actor!AU, romance, angst, slow burn, the reader has a lot of personal growth to get through

Found on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47043961

#bts fic #bts #seokjin #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #bts fanfiction #named reader #bts fics

23 notes · View notes

sugarbell · 4 months

Text

Batfam X Neglected Batsis Reader

Part 2

It was the day, or night of the fundraiser and you were jittery. With both nerves, and excitement. For starters it was your first time at an event like this by yourself. Usually at least your siblings were there, but being around them was like being alone anyways.

Harry had a package sent to the house two days before and Alfred had brought it up to your bedroom. A note was inside the box on top of a black dress. It wasn’t anything too flashy, but it was definitely a jaw-dropper. It was short, black, and had long sleeves but the sides were ruched and had two strings that tied into loose bows at the sides and dangled down your thighs. He had also sent a pair of black suede heels, and you had never worn any before so you were especially nervous about those, but you had been practicing in your room almost all day when it was sent. There was also a diamond clutch purse, and a matching thin diamond necklace and earrings. You had gasped when you pulled everything out of the gift box. You could tell the diamonds were real.

When Alfred brought it up he seemed a little puzzled, but also had a little knowing smirk on his lips. Probably from the little tag on the gift box that read, “To Miss Lana Lang” with a drawn heart and a kissy face. You had wanted to tell Alfred that it wasn’t what he thought but you decided against it, and simply thanked him for bringing the package up. Immediately you set it on your bed and sighed. You had barely known this boy for longer than ten minutes and he was already embarrassingly flirty. But you couldn’t deny that it made a little smile pull at your own lips, and turned your freckled cheeks a little pink. You hadn’t really been able to stop thinking about him ever since that time on the sidewalk where you met him.

Although you weren’t actually planning to go, even when he sent the dress. You did feel a little pressured, feeling a little bad that he would’ve spent all this money on clearly expensive clothing and accessories, just for you to not even show up. And you had really wanted to see him again. You thought about sending it all back with an apology letter, but when you read the letter inside the box your mind was half changed. What happened with Damian just sealed the deal.

“Lana, I’d really love it if you’d wear this and join me at the fundraiser event in two days. There’s no pressure though, if you aren’t interested. Maybe we could meet up and do something else instead. However if you do decide to come, it would really make my day. 8:00 sharp. Even if you don’t decide to come, keep the outfit. Maybe I could see you in it another time.

P.S., the diamonds are real. You’d look lovely in them, Kitten.”

After you read that letter, your head was spinning, and your heart was beating ten times faster. You did feel a little relieved that he wasn’t pressuring you to come. And was he asking you out again? If you didn’t want to come? It was too much for you to think about at the time, so you had packed it all up, we’re preparing to write up a letter explaining why you couldn’t come. Probably using some bullshit excuse of having to finish a paper for school or something.

But after you had that incident in the kitchen with your younger “brother”, you had made up your mind. You were going. You needed a distraction anyway. A break, and you wanted to do something for you for once, instead of constantly trying to please everyone else in the household and tripping yourself up in the process.

(Present Time)

You were currently getting dressed in your room. You had to wear a black strapless bra because of the sweetheart cut and curved breast line of the dress. You weren’t sure how he knew your size, but he probably took a gamble. It wouldn’t have been hard to figure out that you were an extra small because of your build. It fit perfectly. It hugged your body, you didn’t really have many or any curves for that matter, it it made you look incredibly flattering. You slipped into the black suede heels that also fit very well. After dumping all your necessities into your diamond clutch(, wallet, keys, pads, candies, pepper spray-you never know-) you had fastened the dazzling necklace and earrings on and next was your hair. You let it down and it was already straight, but you used a flat iron to bump it inwards a little at the ends. You painted your lips with a dark-wine colored lipstick. You had bought it a while back but never used it. That was the only makeup you put on as you looked in the mirror.

You were happy with your appearance. “I hope Harry is too.” You thought but instantly, you brushed the intrusive thought away. “You hardly know him, Lana” you told yourself.

Now for the hard part..sneak out the house at 7:50 pm and try not to get noticed by nine people. Piece of cake. It wasn’t necessarily ray you weren’t supposed to go, it was more you didn’t really want to have to explain to anyone why you were dressed for a party, and leaving the house at 8:00 p.m., when all you’ve ever done was stay inside the house shut up in your room. You crept through the house as quietly as you could in nine inch heels. You were down the stairs and now all you had to do was cross the spacious living room to reach the kitchen. And you were almost home free when you heard footsteps. Slow, but sure. Fuck.

You thought you were done for, but when you saw Alfred’s frame round the corner with a neutral look on his face you breathed a sigh of relief. At least maybe you could try talking to him. “Alfred! Um, hi…” you said with a nervous smile on your face. You were a dead giveaway. “Ahem. Going somewhere, young Madame Lang?” He asked. You sighed and shook your head. There was no point in trying to lie or dance around the truth. “I’m going to Harry Osborn’s fundraiser tonight, Alfred.” You said with a sigh.

“Then won’t you be needing this, young madame?” He asked, raising up your phone, with the red superman phone case facing towards you. “Of course! Thank you so much, Alfred!” You grinned jumping into his arms as he handed you the case. “You’re a lifesaver, Alfred!” Alfred smiled down at you before pulling away and patting your back towards the door. “Yes, of course I am, Madame. Now go have fun.” You lean up and kiss his cheek before nodding and leaving as Alfred locked the door behind you.

When you arrived at Harry Osborn’s manor, you were shocked. There were more people than you thought filtering into the house. There were press scattered around inside and outside of the place, but nothing that threw you. You were used to this kind of stuff, being Bruce Wayne’s daughter and all. At least you didn’t appear thrown. On the inside, no matter how many camera shined or flashed in your face you would never get over the anxiety of it, but on the outside, you were always the composed and calm daughter. And that’s how you appeared now as you made your way inside.

You were stunned when you saw his ballroom. It was incredibly large, and again, you had been to tons of places with large, beautiful ballrooms, and none of them ever really compared to Bruce’s at home, that was used for galas, balls, and events at his own home, but his was still pretty and large. There were a few tables set up where mostly older people were sitting down and talking, there was a little bar posted in the far right corner of the large room where adults were also drinking and mingling, and others were standing around the ballroom talking and mingling as well. There was also two large spiral staircases leading down from the top floor to the ballroom area. Bruce had staircases just like that I’m his ballroom too, except it was a bit more grand, but you loved this one just the same. It was much more crowded than you thought it would be.

On shaky legs you made your way over to the bar. These heels looked nice, but they were truly little devils. It was your first time walking in them and you were sure you looked ridiculous, but you were actually doing rather well. You tried not to kill yourself, and cause a scene in the process with each step you took over to the surprisingly large bar.

You had been there for around thirty minutes, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. You felt out of place among all these people. Older people with good jobs, lots of money, established places in society. You weren’t that far off, it’s just that you got a lot of stares from being so young, and you were alone. You took a deep breath, sat down in one of the stools a couple seats down from where a couple was drinking and laughing, and quietly ordered an apple juice in a wine glass. That way you would at least maybe look a little more like you belonged here.

The bartender was a female, around early forties who gave you a small smile as she poured your juice into the cup on the down low. You smiled back at her. She had red hair curled up to her chin, and slight wrinkles along her face. She was plump and a little short. She grinned. “Nice choice.” You crossed one leg over the other on the small stool you sat at. “Thank you,” You replied with a giggle. “It’s one of my favorites.” She was about to say something else to you when she was called over politely by an older male at the other end of the bar.

She walked over to him and took his order, leaving you alone again just like that. You had sighed and looked down, feeling all the nervousness and anxiety rush back again. Where was Harry? He was the one who invited you here in the first place, one of the main reasons why you came, and now he was nowhere to be found? He was thirty-five minutes past being ‘fashionably late.’ Your dark brown eyes scanned the room looking for him, but to no avail. You were becoming increasingly frustrated about it. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You swirled the drink in your wine glass around before you topped it back and finished the whole thing in just two gulps.

“Easy there.” You heard a voice say. You turned your head ti the side to see a beautiful, goddess-looking women sitting beside you. She looks to be in her early/mid thirties. Wow…she’s insanely gorgeous. She has long jet black hair curled flawlessly. Her face is soft, but sharp around the edges, showing maturity. Dark eyes, but the way the ceiling chandelier and the little lights installed in the roof of the bar hits them makes them able to be recognized as a dark honey color. Thick eyebrows arched, lips full and defined perfectly, and coated with the perfect shade of bright red. Her skin is tan, and her accent is incredibly hard to place, but her voice is smooth and mature.

At your confused and mildly shocked look she just smiles softly and holds her hand out. Her nails are perfectly manicured red to match her lips, and the knee length red bodycon dress she wore, contrasting your dainty hands with shiny black polish. “Diana Prince, museum curator.” She smiled, as your dainty hand shook hers. You weren’t sure why, but you couldn’t keep your composure, (surprising right?), and you immediately blurred out, “L-Lana Lang, high school senior.” she laughed at the last part of your sentence. “You seem nervous.” She states matter of factly, and the sheer amount of woman confidence and power that radiated off of her made you even more nervous but you admired it.

“I am,” you admitted truthfully. “I was invited here by an…acquaintance, but he’s nowhere to be found, and this isn’t really my kind of scene and…I feel tremendously out of place.” You said, hanging your head with a sigh. “Is it that obvious, though?” You asked, and she smiled reassuringly. “Only if you’ve felt that way yourself before.” She says and you smile back at her, your spirits lifting a little. You sigh exaggeratedly and wipe a drop of fake sweat away from your brow. “Good.” She laughs again, and the nice bartender is back. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.” Diana tells the bartender, and nods her head towards you so she knew what you meant. The bartender laughs a little and nods. “You got it.”

When she hands Diana her drink, she takes a sip and arches an eyebrow at you, giving you a playful look making you snort and laugh a little. “I’m not old enough to drink…and I wanted to feel in place.” Diana smiled but scoffed a little making you give her a questioning look. She shook her head at you. “Why do you do that?” She asked, and you frowned in confusion. “Do what?” She sat a little straighter in her stool, if that wears even possible because you noted from the beginning that her posture was impeccable. “Act so unsure of yourself. I noticed you earlier, and you seemed so nervous and anxious. So uncomfortable in your own skin. You’re beautiful, funny, and you seem kinder and more good-hearted than anybody else here. That alone should be more than enough to make you tremendously confident in yourself. You ought to walk with your head held high.” She said, raising her perfectly arched eyebrow at you again and her words shocked you. She really thought that of you?

You had only just met her a couple minutes ago, and already she was praising your beauty and qualities and you accidentally wondered aloud how she could tell all of that from you already, to which she replied with, “I can feel it.” It perplexed you, but it brought a smile to your face. “I-wow…um, thank you. Nobody’s ever told me anything like that before. I think you’re beautiful too…you’ve got this aura of confidence and it’s…envious.” She smiled at you like she had known you forever. “Don’t be envious. You have it inside of you as well.” She stood up from her seat and grabbed her ‘wine.’ “It was lovely talking to you, Lana, but I must be going. And I think your acquaintance is looking for you. Remember what I said, won’t you?” She shook your hand again, and began walking to a small group on the other side of the room.

You nodded, still a little stunned, and turned to see Harry coming down the stairs and entering the ballroom. He was already looking at you when you turned around and met eyes with him. His eyes seemed to light up when you finally noticed him. He began making his way towards you, but he was stopped by quite a few people on the way. He plastered on a handsome smile and talked with them each until he was finally able to greet you at the bar. You stood up when he reached you.

His voice was smooth, with just a little bit of raspiness. “Hi, kitten. Miss me?” You had no idea how a man you just met was able to make you that weak in the knees with just four words and a smile. At the moment you were caught between your feelings that were at war. The half of you that wanted to schoolgirl and kick your feet and shyly stutter out a response, or the bolder you that wanted to place your hands on your hips, raise an eyebrow, and ask him just what was the point of inviting you here and then making you wait an hour for him to show up to his own ‘party.’ You settled for the latter, after remembering Diana’s words.

You stood up straight and arched your brow, giving him an unimpressed look. He looked down sheepishly but he still seemed to have such an air of arrogance around him. “Okay, I’m sorry, I got caught up with last minute business stuff and it couldn’t wait.” He said, giving you an award winning smile like that would instantly make you forgive him. And you hated how it did.

You sighed and nodded and he took a step back from you to run his eyes up and down your body, and he whistled before his eyes met yours again. “I knew you’d look incredible in this stuff…” and you hate the way that you blush and avert your gaze like a schoolgirl. He “tsks” and takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger and makes you look into his striking emerald eyes. “Look at me, yeah kitten? Lemme see those eyes.” *and the shocked gasp that come from your throat makes him smirk a little as he releases your chin and praises you when you keep your eyes on him. “Good girl.” He mutters, his eyes trained on your lips.

You were sure that you had serious daddy issues that manifested somewhere during the time you had met Bruce. Not having a great father figure in your life instantly gave you them and they were bad. The way he praised you and how you found yourself practically willing to do anything on the inside to hear more of it, after only knowing him for such a short amount of time confirmed your suspicions.

He wasn’t even that much older than you either, only around twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, maybe it was the idea that he was older even by a little. Maybe it was the idea that he was running his own business and throwing fundraisers and charity events and galas and balls. You weren’t sure but you were hopelessly attracted to it.

Harry had noticed from the first time he met you how adorably shy and weak you got when he called you nicknames, so he took it a step further here, and he was more than please with the results. When he got home from meeting you, the first thing he did was look you up and see if he could get anything on you. You had zero social media presence of your own, but you had a google page and there were countless photos of you with your other siblings at charity events, balls, galas, and fundraisers. Some at different places, and some of you at Wayne Manor. He also looked up all of your siblings to learn what he could about them. He found himself growing more and more infatuated with you since he met you last week.

He couldn’t wait to see you again, and he was pissed when his assistant had apologetically dumped more paperwork on him, telling him it had to be finished before he went downstairs. He wanted so badly to see if you had showed up. And you had, looking ethereal, no less.

He watched your hazy eyes snap back into focus as you remembered where you were and looked around to see if anybody had seen that, but it didn’t look as though anyone had. Everyone too caught up laughing and mingling amongst themselves to notice you with Harry. You took two steps back from him and smiled. “Hi Harry.” “Hi, kitten.” He repeated making you nudge his side harshly. “Shh! My name is Lana—“you didn’t seem to mind when I was calling you that before.” He chuckled with that same mischievous fire dancing in his eyes again. You weren’t sure just how badly you were going to get burned if you got too close, but if he kept being this alluring, you were going to have to find out.

“I’m glad you showed up after all. Wasn’t sure if you were gonna come.” He said as he looked to you. “I decided what the hell. Has nothing else to do, so I figured I’d entertain you for a bit.” You giggled, teasing him, but he just grinned a little. “Oh yeah?” “Mhm. Yeah.” You said, not taking your eyes off of his. He stepped closer to you and you waited for him to get close enough. What he deemed close enough, and suddenly you were grateful you had decided to sit in the back of the bar on the far side, secluded from prying eyes.

His wolfish grin never stopped even as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close into him. Like he was testing the waters, and giving you time to pull away. You never did. And it made his heart swell, surprisingly so. Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did. And he was obsessed with it.

You braced your hands against his chest. He wore a black three piece suit and tie with a white shirt and the classic black shoes. “He looked good in a suit.” You thought. “How’s your side?” He murmured lowly, his cool breath fanning your face as he spoke. Your eyes still locked onto each others. “It’s fine.” He eyes your own eyes suspiciously. “Yeah?” He asks, still in that low tone and it’s absolutely killing you. “Yeah.” You mumble. He hums, as if in deep thought, his eyes still never leaving yours. “You sure? Cuz I could take you upstairs and we could have a look at it, make sure it isn’t bruised or anything. And then maybe I could give you something as an apology for hitting you. How’s that sound, kitten?” The way he says it is so unabashedly suggestive and in no way subtle and you’re really grateful that you’re in a more secluded spot. You giggled softly. “I thought you said inviting me here was an apology for that?” You asked, and he frowned before nodding like he did remember saying that. “Well, think of this as a second one. So what do you say?”

You stopped and truly considered it for a moment. The offer was so incredibly tempting and sweet, but there were a few factors that came into play regarding your answer.

One, Harry had literally just gotten down here to his own event, and while you didn’t doubt that he had probably ditched more than enough times, considering the way he was so ready to take you upstairs without a second thought, you knew it probably wouldn’t look good.

Two, you didn’t really see how you two could just escape upstairs without anyone seeing you and you didn’t need a headline in the paper, titled, “Bruce Wayne’s adoptive daughter Lana Lang, and Harry Osborn, now head of OsCorp seen going upstairs together at charity event.” Just really wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted to attract.

Three, you weren’t really too sure about Harry. Of course you were embarrassingly wrapped around his finger, but you were very smart and intelligent. You didn’t know Harry well enough to go upstairs with him, and while people had one night stands just like this all the time, you weren’t ready.

Four, related to reason number three, you were also a virgin, and you were positive you weren’t ready for that to change just yet.

You sighed a little and gave Harry a soft smile. He still patiently awaited your answer and had busied himself with taking in deep breaths of the perfume you had decided to wear tonight. A roses and wine scent that you had put on. It was far from what you usually wore which was more milder, softer, sweeter scents, but you wanted something a little more…adult today.

“Maybe another time, tiger.” You said, as he was leaning in probably to begin pressing losses against your neck, but he stopped when he hears your words. He gave you a little smile to let you know that it was no problem. “Alright…alright. God, you make me crazy, you know that?” He asked, like he was trying so hard to restrain himself. He took a step back from you and already you were missing the warmth of his arms wrapped around your waist. “Do I?” He just stared at you like this was basic common knowledge. Like this was something you should already know. He gave you a curt nod and took your hand, placing a kiss on it, as he steered you towards the crowd to mingle.

No matter how much Harry wanted nothing more than to whisk you upstairs and fuck you into his bed until you were seeing stars, he knew he had to take it slow with you. You two had only met a little while ago after all, and you might not be as infatuated with him as he was with you yet. That was okay. He would make sure that you were soon.

After around two and a half hours of mingling around, talking with people, and raising awareness about the situation. The reason you were there in the first place you were both mentally and physically exhausted. Harry was steering you outside by the small of your back. You two had also gotten closer during the night and he invited you on a coffee date sometime next week, to which you had accepted.

You felt as though you really had made a difference. At the end of the night, a little before Harry had taken you outside, the number of money that would be put into renovating orphanages, and getting better care for the children there was a surprisingly high amount.

You’d had to tell your ‘story’ to lots of people there, explaining what happened to your parents during your childhood and how you ended up with Bruce now. Lots of people were inspired and put in even more money. A lot of them really weren’t as snobby and stuck-up as you expected them to be, however you did run into a couple of assholes like that. One of the people you spoke to regarding your life experience was Diana, and when you told her who your parents were she didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. When you asked her why not she explained that she had known your parents, specifically your mother and they were rather good friends before she passed.

She said that she had worked in your mothers company as her secretary and right hand woman until she got a new job, and that’s when she became a museum curator because she had a love for history and historical art. All this information shocked you very much and you asked her why she hadn’t told you earlier. She explained that she hadn’t truly recognized you until she started talking with you, and she realized you looked familiar but when you said your name, it confirmed her earlier suspicions that you were Eleanor’s daughter. She said she was planning to tell you all this but when she saw Harry looking for you, she decided she’d come find you later before you left. Which she did. She caught you when Harry was without you, talking to someone else.

You were very shocked and you asked her so many questions about your parents. She wasn’t able to answer many about your father, other than what your mother had told her in passing, because she hadn’t ever met your father directly before. But she said that when your mother talked about your father, she was beaming. Like she had been married to her soulmate. Hearing that made your heart melt.

She told you how strong, brave, independent, bold, fiery, and confident your mother was. But how she also had the capacity to be soft, and caring, and kind, and loving and compassionate and gentle. She was beloved by many of the women who worked in her industry and many were saddened when she left. How she lit up any room wherever she went and brought smiles to people’s faces, but how she could also make any who unjustly opposed her cower in fear. She said your mother was very shy, a sweet wallflower before the two met in college and how Diana had helped her grow out of her shell into the girl boss she was up until her death.

Diana explained how she didn’t even know that your mother had a baby. Since you were orphaned when you were a baby, Diana had been living in another part of the world for a short time, excavating something for her new job, and when she returned and heard the news, she was devastated. Diana and your mother kept in contact and frequently spoke just as often as they did before, even with Diana having a new job and moving away for a short period of time.

She seemed to feel so guilty about the fact that you were in such a terrible orphanage for eight years, and trust maybe she could’ve done something about it, having known your mother so well, and been employed under her. You asked Diana why, instead of your parents writing it down that you should go with Bruce, seeing as all your other family was either supposedly dead or unable to take you in, instead of perhaps going with Diana when your mother knew her so much better than she knew Bruce. You had always thought it odd, knowing that your parents were good surface friends with Bruce but not much more than that. You always chalked it up to you having nobody else besides him to go to…but now you knew about Diana. So why didn’t your mother send you with her? Life might’ve been so much less lonely and cold being with her.

Diana told you that her and your mother trusted each other a lot, but if there was one thing your mom was, it was selfless. She was stubborn in that kind of endearing way, Diana had said. She probably viewed it as saddling me with you when you were such a young age and my job allowed me to travel all over the world, but seeing as Bru—Mr. Wayne, (she had corrected herself, which you thought was strange but you brushed it off as her wanting to be polite especially since he was your “father.”) already had kids at the time. She said and it made sense.

However, Diana was quick to assure you that she would’ve loved to have you as her adoptive daughter no matter what. She said, it would’ve been a lively experience for the both of us, I hope. And that was something you truly believed. You and Diana ended up exchanging numbers, and she told you that you could talk to her about anything at all, any time at all. Knowing you had another friend made you happy. Maybe Diana could fill the hole in your heart with stories to your mother and her. Just maybe.

Anyways, as said before, Harry was steering you outside by the small of your back, but when you shivered against the cool early-spring air he frowned. “You didn’t bring a jacket?,” he asked, “Dammit, I should’ve bought you one as well.” You cut him off by shaking your head and smiling. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I actually had a lot of fun tonight.” Harry have you a genuine smile at that, and then it turned into his signature arrogant smirk. He took off his suit jacket and placed it around your arms. “For the ride home. G’night kitten.” He said, and debated leaning in for a kiss, but decided against it. He just sort of squeezed the small of your waist before heading off back inside.

When you got home that night you were practically breathless. You weren’t really sure if your plan would go as planned in the beginning. If you would actually make a difference, but so many people there seemed so moved by what you had to say, and easily gave three times the moment they would’ve in the beginning just from you talking to them. It felt so good to do some to ing like that at your age. You were already helping people but you felt like you could do more. You thought about what it would be like to be a vigilante like the rest of your family. You had your heart set on that as well, and you were sure going to make that happen. But you did need a plan for that first. You couldn’t well just make a suit and go out fighting crime with no training. You weren’t fighting or killing machines like your siblings were, so you would need to train for a long time before you’d be ready for any of that. But that was later to come.

Right now you were just in bed and fangirling. So incredibly excited about what had happened today. So many new relationships has blossomed. You were surprised that so much could happen in just one night. Raising that much money, making connections with wealthy, powerful people, finding the truth about Diana and your mother, and you and Harry.

Harry. You thought about him a lot lately too. You wondered if what you two had might blossom into more, and maybe even love if you two continued to spend time together. You wanted something like what your parents have. How Diane a spoke about the way your mother talked about your father.

You wanted to be able to talk about someone like that, and in turn they talk about you the same way. You wanted to feel true love so badly that it hurt you. When you were old enough to learn about your parents and why you were with Bruce, you learned also that your parents were found the next day when someone took the w highway and called the police because of the broken rail. You learned that your parents both drowned in the car together, but that they were found holding hands over the glove compartment. They had accepted their fate, but they still loved each other so much, that even in death they were together. You wanted something like that. A relationship like that. You wanted to die for someone and someone who would die for you.

Be careful what you wish for.

41 notes · View notes

cambria-writes · 2 years

Text

Comments, reblogs, tags and replies are always welcome heavily encouraged actually ❤ pairing: jane x named reader word count: 2,281 rating: PG13 warnings: discussion of murders, weapons, typical procedural show stuff previousnext

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗: 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔴

You wake up slowly and lazily. No fanfare. And no idea when you fell asleep to begin with. Panic shakes you awake; you don't recognize the room you're in. You stumble to the door before you remember. The murder, the blood, the hours of driving here and there.

Lean against the door, press your forehead against it. Tommy's death feels so unreal. Just yesterday morning you said hello, talked about his newborn grandson. Let yourself hyperventilate for a bit before trying to take deep breaths. Christ, who's going to take care of Peekaboo?

Wait.

Turn around too fast and lose balance. You have no idea where your phone is. Thankfully, that doesn't seem necessary. Mr Jane looks to be asleep in the arm chair. Pulled it back to where it was, away from the desk. His jacket is still on the counter in the small kitchenette.

You dig through the pockets to find his phone; blissfully unlocked. Everyone also is thankfully entered with their actual names.

"Jane where the hell have you been?" Agent Lisbon sounds extremely upset and out of breath. It takes you a second to be able to answer. She sounds entirely different from yesterday.

"Um, Agent Lisbon? It's Skye Benraft?"

"Oh. Oh my god, Miss Benraft I'm so sorry. I thought..." Can almost hear her pinch the bridge of her nose. "What can I help you with?" Voice still has an edge to it, but she sounds much more like the agent you spoke to earlier.

"Sorry, I just—Agent Van Pelt told me to call if I remembered anything and you were the first name I recognized in Mr Jane's phone, uh. He stayed the night. I mean! Jesus no he kept me company? God all of that sounds wrong, shit." Take another stuttering breath.

"I'm sorry, Miss Benraft, but I'm—"

"No, it's—the dog, Tommy had a dog. A tiny black and white thing? God I really don't know what race it is, just that her name is Peekaboo and she wasn't in the house when I was there," you finish with a sigh, run a nervous hand through your hair.

"It's possible the dog just ran off after the murder. The door was left open," Lisbon tries to reason. If it had been any other dog and any other person, you might have been inclined to agree.

"No, no Peekaboo never stayed more than ten feet away from Tommy. He'd walk her without a leash all the time and in the eight years I've been in that neighborhood she's never run away before."

Agent Lisbon is fairly quiet for a moment. You hear a door opening and closing and conversations in the distance.

"Do you have any idea if the dog was a pure bred? Some kind of show dog?," agent Lisbon asks. You frown; it's not hard to recall.

"Uh, actually. Probably, yeah. Yeah I think I remember Tommy mentioning that Peekaboo won a couple shows? He might have been preparing for another show, I—it's not like we talked a lot but that was just so weird that a man in his nineties would enter a dog show. It kind of stood out, right?"

Lisbon makes an appreciative sound on the other end. "Thank you, Skye, that's actually a great help. Was there anything else?" She sounds like a patient mother, now. Calm and collected. Makes you feel like you actually helped. You're not convinced you did.

"Well, there's, I don't really know how to—"

Your conversation is cut short; the phone is plucked from your hands and your heart just about leaps out of your rib cage.

"Lisbon! I'll be busy today. Take Grace with you, I'm sure she'll appreciate it." Snaps the phone shut.

Oh Jesus. You absolutely feel like a wounded gazelle under his stare. His face only seems impassive on the surface; even you can recognize the clenching of the jaw and the deliberate set of the brows. You back up against the fridge.

"I couldn't find my phone I didn't go through your stuff I swear I just, I remembered something and I figured you'd have someone's. What... what are you doing?"

Confused, you watch Mr Jane grab and throw his jacket over his shoulder. Pulls out a pair of aviators from god knows where. He grabs your messenger bag and throws it at you. You only barely manage to catch it.

"You're phone's in the side pocket."

"Where are we going, though? I mean I'm not exactly dressed for anything?"

Turns around. You don't like that toothy grin in the slightest.

"You are going to be putting your newfound knowledge to good use."

Questions bubble up and out of you like water in the parking lot. You hadn't given much thought as to what kind of car you would be traveling in. You'd assumed something like the CBI SUV agent Van Pelt drove yesterday.

"Is that an actual Citroen? What year is it? My parents called this a fish tank but it looks kind of nice? Whose soul did you sell to be able to afford gas for this thing? Does it still have the original engine block? What about the paint job?"

Jane makes an attempt to answer as many of your questions as he can. Eventually, he stops trying, simply lets you go on until you stop yourself, realize you've been rambling and shut up. There's nothing malicious about any of it. It's almost indulgent.

The car itself is actually more comfortable than it looks, which is honestly saying a lot. You settle into comfortably and completely forego asking where you're going. You probably wouldn't get a straight answer anyways. You do, however, have a few more unrelated questions.

"When did I fall asleep?"

Mr Jane seems to mull this over a bit, tapping out a beat on the steering wheel. "Around two this morning, I think," he answers easily, keeping his eyes on the road. There's an expression you can't quite read on his face. "You don't remember?"

You shake your head. "No, I just..." You trail off, frowning and trying to remember something. Anything. "I remember your asking what I know about cold reading, tells and non-verbal shit but like. Not really... anything after that?"

He lets a beat pass. You have two simultaneous realizations in those few seconds.

"Wait, you. Did you hypnotize me?" You make sure to make your disbelief clear. Jane looks at you for a second. Again with that self satisfaction. "Why?"

"To see how prone you are to suggestion," he explains. The tone in his voice makes you feel like this is a conclusion you should have drawn naturally, by yourself. How the hell.

"And?"

"Not very, stunningly."

You want to be offended. But the answer surprises you, too. You would have thought that your willingness to believe in hypnosis and suggestion would make you especially susceptible to it. You're almost relieved to hear that isn't the case. You sink back in your seat, look off to the east. Dark clouds rolling in on the horizon. It's a little eerie.

"If I ask, will you tell me where we're going?"

You aren't sure if that was a chuckle or a scoff. "Probably not."

For two hours, you're mostly left to yourself and your phone. When you first check it you've got about 20 missed calls and just as many text messages. Some from concerned friends, most from the bookstore owner. For the first half hour, that's all you do. Reply to messages and make calls. Everyone seems distraught that you stumbled upon a corpse, and the store owner insists you take a week off, maybe two. Whatever time you need, she says she'll pay you for half of it. Least I could do, she says.

You're most of the way to sleeping when Mr Jane pulls over at a diner. A little nondescript place off the interstate, looks family owned. You aren't given an explanation.

"Please tell me this is a food stop," you ask. Complain, actually; you won't lie. You're starving. You can't remember the last time you ate anything substantial.

"I don't know about you but I'm craving a good burger," Jane replies, and again you feel like you aren't actually being told anything. Or getting answers.

You're seated at a comfortable booth by a plucky waitress. She talks too much. Thankfully, Jane takes care of most of the small talk. You nod when appropriate, but otherwise keep quiet. He orders for you. You'd be offended if he hadn't actually asked for scrambled eggs and bacon with a cup of coffee for you. Coffee sounds like just the thing you need right now.

When the waitress comes back some time later with both food and coffee (bless her and the cook, they are saints), Mr Jane pipes up, rests a hand on the woman's arm. You can't help but frown; that's a trick, right? Something nags at your memory, but you can't quite wrap your mind around it just yet.

"Have you heard about a murdered dog owner, out here?"

Your jaw drops. That... you did not expect that.

But the waitress suddenly has a gleam in her eye. A true gossip. Figures; small communities have fast-traveling news. You, however, can't connect the dots to Tommy, his missing dog and this waitress in the middle of relatively nowhere on the way to who knows where.

"Oh my—yes, I did! Poor old man," she puts a hand over her heart and looks genuinely crestfallen. "Johnny or Tommy or something, right? He'd stop by here every couple months with this cutest little dog! Black and white, a uh, what's it called again."

"Havanese, right?" Jane has eyes only for the waitress. You can't say she doesn't notice. She looks flattered by the attention.

"Yeah, that's it! Havanese! Cutest little thing, like I said. We're a nice spot for those dog show people when they come down. We're one of the only dog-friendly diners around here, yeah? So a lot of people will stop by on their way to Paso Robles." The waitress seems blissfully oblivious to the handful of patrons shooting her either interested or displeased looks.

Jane leans in. You begin to wonder what it is about people and pretending they have a secret. Jesus.

"I heard," he starts, hushed tone, looks around as if to make sure no one else is paying attention. Everyone is. You sure are. "That it was that one crazy killer. The one that started in Fresno?"

The waitress gasps, mostly shocked and entirely captivated. "No way!" She startles herself, looks around, lowers her tone. "You're kidding, right? Why would anyone kill a poor old man over a dog?"

Mr Jane shrugs and begins nursing what you assume, by now, is a mug of tea. The waitress—her name is Mindy, you think, but the nametag is awfully faded—turns to you with a shocked expression. You can't think of anything else to do but shrug as well.

"She's the one who found the body," Jane whispers, and you can feel you chest and neck turn red.

"Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god," Waitress Mindy brings both hands to her mouth and completely forgets about the pad and pen she was holding. They clatter to the floor, but no one seems to notice or care. "Oh sweetie, I can't let you pay. That's terrible. It's on the house, don't worry about it."

And then she disappears through the doors to the kitchen.

You glare at Mr Jane.

"That was completely and wholly un—"

"It wasn't completely unnecessary," he cuts you off, that toothy, wolfish grin on his face again. You're torn between finding it charming and annoying. Maybe limited exposure makes it more endearing. "Now we know who killed Old Man Tommy."

You pause and frown. You also wonder how fast you'll develop wrinkles with how much you've frowned in the past two days.

"Wait so. There's a serial killer in California, from Fresno, who, what? Kills people with prize dogs? That makes no sense?" You're almost too incredulous to touch your eggs. Almost. You try not to think about what happens to the dogs. Shove some bacon down your throat and pretend it was never an animal.

Jane patiently sits in front of you, sipping his tea and occasionally having a bit of eggs on toast. Alright, so he's trying to let you figure this out for yourself. You have no idea why, but alright. What the heck? Some brain work will keep you distracted enough to forget a corpse in rigor mortis.

"Kills the owner, goes after a show dog. Probably doesn't kill the dog; I mean, if you go through the trouble of eli...eliminating competition?" You get a raised brow in response. Okay, close, but a little off track. "Well the dogs aren't getting kidnapped to be used in shows. Judges would notice that the same dog is showing up under a different owner and trainer. Right? Unless..." You trail off, biting down on your fork.

"Unless what?," Jane prompts, leans back in his seat and throws his arm over the back.

"Okay but saying that the judges or the registration staff are in on it is some conspiracy theory BS though, right?" You pause. No reply. Passive face, not even a raised brow. You deflate. "Oh come on, that can't be right."

"You tell me, Fortune Teller. What do the cards say?"

You hate the condescending tone, but take out your deck of cards regardless. You're not liking the feeling of being a pet project, but even you can't deny that this is the most excitement you've had in years.

@fucklife-or-me pray for the tag to work 🙏

#the mentalist #patrick jane #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane x you #named reader #no y/n #mentions of murder #mentions of corpses #look it's a procedural show #there's death involved all the time #honey and the hatchet

76 notes · View notes

flameohotpotatooo · 2 months

Text

I'm back to write my RDR fanfic.

Finally. I probably can't keep up a scheduled update tho, having depressive and manec episodes, but I thought I should give some context on how the writing is in my style.

I will start writing for CoD and BG3 with the same system and that is:

✨Dice rolling✨