I havenât posted in forever Iâm in a better headspace but in the year of 2026, I have covid! Like omg it probably was when I went goodwill shopping but like lucky me huh.
Yandere Platonic Batfamily x Neglected Coraline Reader
You're the newest member of the Batfam, yet you feel like an outsider. They don't treat you like family, leaving you neglected. The feelings of isolation get worse with the absence of your best friend from school. One day, you stumble upon a peculiar doll, which unexpectedly opens the door to a whole other world. You find a version of your family that actually acknowledges you and likes you.
However, your original family has taken notice of the small doll, and they're more than a little concerned.
Warning: Yandere themes (stalking, obsession, & other similar things), kids get hurt (it's Coraline, you know the story)
Chapter 1 - The Doll
Chapter 2 -The Tunnel
Chapter 3 - The Scanner
Chapter 4 - The House
Chapter 5 - The Meal
Chapter 6 - The Show
Chapter 6.5 - Roll the Tapes!
Chapter 7 - The Footage
Chapter 8 - The Argument
Chapter 9 - The Escape
Chapter 9.5 - Bedside Support
Warnings: mentions of negligence/abuse. Some of the things may be triggering.
Do you see what you have to fear, child? He sent you here for me to improve you. For you to become a daughter he will be proud of.
Two hundred and sixty weeks⌠One thousand eight hundred and twenty five days⌠forty three thousand eight hundred hours⌠That's the time you've been there. Days merged together after the first month being in the room. Father wonât come for me right? Iâm tiredâŚ
Father. What a foreign word. It is not like he acted like one for you, maybe for Richard and Jason. But not you, you don't deserve it.
Dad⌠I don't remember his face. Bringing your hands to your eyes, your long uncut and uneven nails drew harsh lines from your under eyes until your chin. Jay⌠I also don't remember his face and certainly not his voice.
How dare you forget him. You can forget everything and everyone, but not him. No, never him. Your hero, your older brother.
Your thoughts came to halt after hearing the slow steps on the corridor. He is here again. Your body began to tremble, eyes already drifting from reminiscence to numbness.
I want to go home⌠I donât have a home⌠Home is where Jayjay isâŚ
The past few days have been intense. Damian didn't question his father anymore, in fact he decided to take matters into his own hands. He couldn't possibly demand assistance from the one that had sent you away in the first place, it was naive of him to think he could. So instead he looked for you everywhere, any sign of you sent him a loophole, it is too hard to look for clues without alerting the family, tho he was sure they already knew.
It was after taking advantage of his father's absence that he got to go through whatever he was keeping to himself.
âSerene, mental wellness campâÂ
The words stared back at him, mocking. The teen couldn't quite comprehend, he got it you lost Todd and it was affected by it, but how sending you further from the family could make you feel better? Tsk, it feels like father just wanted to get rid of herâŚ
Searching for the place, Damian found the small farm in the outskirts of Gotham, bordering Metropolis. The place held almost only positive reviews, but one pattern caught his attention.
âI spent 5 months there. The staff are so considerate which made my stay really pleasant.â
âOne year connecting with nature, out of Gotham's constant trouble, made my mind and heart more at ease. It won't be easy to get out of this safe haven and come back to the city, but im sure ill be going as a new person.â
â4 monthsâŚâ, â 7 monthsâŚâ
The ward had a 12 month maximum of stay and yet his sister had been gone for five years. Did Bruce use his influence to guarantee a longer stay? Is his sister still there? Damian closed the laptop and soon enough found himself wandering through the manors corridor, looking for Tim.
âYou!â- Speeding his footsteps to reach his brother, the older one was already sensing trouble.- âI request your help.â
âDoes it involve Y/N?â- Tim asked and when the youngest nodded, he sighed.- âThen no.â
âWhy Drake? Don't you know how important that is?
âLet it go, Dames. B doesn't want us to meddle.â
âListen, just this time. I just need you to look through this camp father put her in, once we see that everything is okay, then I won't bother you anymore.â
Tim rubbed his eyelids and motioned his hand, singing for Damian to follow him. The two boys followed to the cave and in a matter of minutes, Drake was hacking into the camp security cam. The farm seemed normal, just a few people here and there, feeding some animals, others reading and yet, not a sight of their sister.
âDo you know what she looks like? I can't find her.â
Before the youngest could answer, another voice interrupted.Â
âLong black hair, bright eyes.â
âFuck, Jason. Why do you always have to appear out of nowhere?!â
He didn't answer, his eyes glued to the footage, scanning and eventually knitting his brows.
âSheâs not there.â- His hands came to the table, fingertips whitening with the strength of his hold.
âWhat do you mean, Ahki? That's where father sent her.â
Not even waiting for any explanation, Tim opened another file, this time it was a list of members of the farm. From staff to visitants, all of the names were there, except yours.
âLooking at the past five years' worth of information, it never once showed Y/N.â- Tim said, eyes still glued to the screen.- âIt's like she never even set foot in this place to begin with.â
The realization made Jason's heart sink. What did Bruce do? If she had never been there, then where the hell could she be now? Did she change names? Did she move cities? Fuck, is she even alive? It is not like she had anything to live for.
âDamian, call Alfred now.â
The youngest nodded and went on his way to find the butler. Which, although he had an idea on what this was about, still descended through to the cave with a confused expression.
âAlfie, Where is she?â- The urgency in Jason's voice brought the older man even more confusion.
âWhat do you mean, Master Jason? Miss Y/N is at the wellness camp.â Â
âShe isn't, Alfie. Look at this.â- Tim pointed at the files and after reading through them, Alfred's face grew pale.
With trembling hands, the older man supported himself in the wall. Was that the reason his many letters were never answered?! God, his chest felt tight. Adding to the already chaos that started to ensue, Bruce entered the cave, already noticing the heavy atmosphere. He barely had time to ask what that was about, when Todd's fist connected with his face.
âWhat did you do to her?â- His son's rushed words almost weren't filtered in his ears.
Her? Y/N⌠She is the only one who could make Jason act this way.
Being held back by his brothers, he seemed almost feral. Alfred used this time of distraction to fill his master with what's been going on. Bruce's eyes seemed ready to fall from his skull,
His daughter⌠His baby⌠Where is she?
He had no time to be spiraling into his thoughts with Jason's voice filling his eardrums again.
âFuck, i cant count on you. Not even once, not even with herâŚâ- His son voice came out trembling with pain.- âWhy her, dad?â
Dad⌠he called me dad again, but how come I can be happy when he looks at me with this kind of eyes? Eyes that denounce my failure once moreâŚ
âYâknow what?! Fuck this, Iâll find her myself.â- The man stormed off the cave, heavy steps doing barely to cease his anger.- âDonât worry babybird, Iâll find my way to you. I always did and Iâll always do.â
Not the comfortable warmth of a blanket pulled too tight, not the dry bite of a heater left on overnight.
This was living heat, thick and amber, pressing against your skin like a second layer you hadn't asked for. The second thing you noticed was the ceiling. Lacquered wood. Red silk hangings. An oil lamp swaying on a chain of hammered bronze.
Not your apartment, the room looks like it's from a completely different time era.
You sat up so fast the room tilted, and the silk sheets pooled around your waist.
A room materialized around you in pieces, a carved vanity, a screen painted with twin phoenixes, shuttered windows bleeding gold light through their slats. A tray of food sat on the low table nearby. Someone had been anticipating your consciousness.
The door opened before you could fully panic.
He was younger than you expected, given the room. Given everything. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than you, but the way he carried himself, straight spine, measured steps, one hand clasped behind his back, made the space rearrange itself around him like the room itself was paying attention. A scar pulled at the left side of his face, pink and permanent.
He looked at you the way someone looks at a problem they have already decided to solve.
"You're awake," he stated with a small smile.
"Where am I?" Your voice came out rougher than you intended.
"The Fire Nation Capital." He moved to stand near the window, not approaching, not retreating. "The palace, specifically. You were found unconscious near the outer gates three days ago. The guards assumed you were a threat." A pause, something flickering through his expression. "You were not a threat."
Fire Nation Capital? You have never heard of a palace like this before in geography.
Three days. You touched your own face, half-expecting to find something different.
"I don't... I'm not from here. I don't know how I got here. I don't know where here is, exactly, I mean I've never heard of..." You stopped. That sentence had no safe ending.
He watched you flounder with patience that didn't quite look like kindness. "You'll stay in the palace," he said, as if the matter had been considered and settled long before this conversation. "Until we understand how you arrived and where you belong."
"You don't have to do that."
The sentence was said with a desperate voice which sounded like 'Please don't throw me out!'
"I know. But it is not honorable to leave a lady in need."
He left before you could find the words for the particular feeling that sentence left behind.
--------
Weeks became a month.
The palace was enormous and you were given a corner of it: the room, an adjoining bathing chamber, a small garden terrace that looked out over red rooftops cascading down toward the harbor.
You were not a prisoner. No one said you were a prisoner. But the world outside those walls was entirely illegible to you, the currency, the customs, the way people spoke around you like you were something fragile that had arrived without instructions.
Also people bended elements like Zuko who bends fire, and bending is something you are unable to do in any way or form.
And so you stayed.
Fire Lord Zuko or simple Zuko, you kept having to remind yourself, which felt absurd and then slowly stopped feeling absurd, checked on you with a regularity that was either conscientious or deliberate.
You hadn't yet decided which. He answered your questions about the world with the directness of someone who had run out of patience for anything indirect, and you found that, unexpectedly, you preferred it. He didn't soften things. He didn't perform warmth.
When he sat across from you at dinner and told you the history of the war like it was something he needed to say out loud to someone who had no prior judgment about it, you understood it was a different kind of intimacy than most people offered.
You thought, sometimes, that you were beginning to understand this world and it might not be that different from the world you came from.
But mostly you understood Zuko.
Or at least you thought you understood him.
-----
He came to your terrace one evening near the end of your second month.
The sun was going down and taking the heat with it, and the harbor below had gone from silver to copper to something deeper, and you were watching it with the specific pleasure of someone who has learned not to take anything for granted.
You heard his footsteps before you saw him, as you had learned his footsteps patterns.
"You look like you're thinking," he said.
"I'm always thinking."
He came to stand beside you at the railing. For a while he said nothing, which was one of the things about him you had come to understand.
The silences were never empty with Zuko. They were weighted, working.
"There is something I need to discuss with you." He said it to the harbor.
"Okay."
"The servants talk." He paused. "The court notices things. You've been living in the palace for two months. You eat with me. You walk the grounds with me." Another pause, shorter. "They have come to certain conclusions about the nature of your stay."
You turned to look at him. "What kind of conclusions?"
His jaw moved. "The kind that have become difficult to ignore. Word travels fast in the capital. There are rumors in the city now about a woman living in the Fire Lord's wing." He finally turned to look at you. In the low gold light, the scar looked less like damage and more like topography, just part of the landscape of him. "It puts you in a complicated position. Without status and protection."
Your stomach did something uncomfortable. "Zuko..."
"I've thought about this carefully." He said it with the clipped certainty of someone who had, in fact, thought about it carefully, and did not want to be interrupted mid-conclusion. "The most practical solution, the one that resolves the problem entirely, is marriage."
The word landed in the warm air between you and just sat there.
"Marriage," you repeated.
"You don't know the outer city. You don't know how things work here. If you were to leave the palace without status, you would be..." He stopped. Looked back at the harbor. "Vulnerable. People would take advantage. The simplest way to protect you, to make it impossible for anyone to use your position against you, is to give you a position that cannot be questioned."
You stared at the side of his face. He stared at the harbor.
"If you don't want that," he said, and something in his voice changed register very slightly, "I'll find another solution. But it would be more complicated."
You thought about the city below, which you didn't know. You thought about the currency you didn't have, the language you were still learning at the edges, the fact that you had arrived here with nothing and been handed warmth and silk and someone's careful, unasked-for attention.
"Okay," you said.
He finally looked at you. Something moved behind his good eye and vanished before you could name it.
"Okay," he repeated, quieter.
The sun went below the harbor. Somewhere in the city below, lanterns were beginning to come on.
----------
There were no rumors.
His head secretary, would have mentioned it. His advisors, who watched the city's pulse like old men watching weather, would have brought it to council.
The servants' gossip ran through the palace like water through stone and none of it, none of it, had ever surfaced in any report about a woman in the Fire Lord's east wing.
Zuko knew this.
He had known it when he rehearsed the conversation on his terrace the night before, parsing the words until they sat right.
He had known you would agree because you had the faith of someone who did not yet understand how the world here worked, who was relying on the one person in it she knew.
He stood at the window of his own chamber long after you'd retired for the evening.
It wasn't something he was proud of, exactly.
But you had arrived with nothing, out of nowhere, and the palace was the only world you knew, and he had watched you for two months learning to trust this place, learning to trust him, and the thought of you leaving, of someone else finding you first, of you being out in the city where he couldn't...
He stopped that thought, it's already decided that you would become his wife.
He was the Fire Lord. He had spent enough of his life doing things he wasn't proud of for reasons that seemed, at the time, like the only available reasons.
Zuko went to his desk and began drafting the announcement.
He was not his father. Zuko had told himself this so many times it had become something close to prayer. He was not his father. He had ended the war, burned the war councils and rebuilt the ministries and sat across from Aang in rooms full of people who had every reason to hate him and done the work anyway, year after year, because that was what it meant to not be his father.
Zuko also promised himself he would find a way to deserve being your husband. He told himself he would spend however long it took making the cage into something that didn't feel like one. He told himself this was different.
Omega!Reader, who remains unbonded, despite the years passing and the whispers that maybe something's wrong with her.
Omega!Reader, who tried with alphas who seemed decent enough. But every time felt empty. Like going through motions the body was supposed to crave, but her mind couldn't quite find the appeal.
Omega!Reader, who works in the back kitchen of the bakery, kneading dough and glazing pastries where the public can't see her. It's safer that way. Quieter.
Omega!Reader, who catches it some days, a scent barely there, threaded under the flour and caramel. Metal and leather, and beneath that something warm. Clean sweat and musk and something unnameable that makes her hands still mid-fold, her pupils blow wide.
Omega!Reader, whose instincts scream at her to walk outside. To follow it. To find the source.
Omega!Reader, who doesn't. Omegas going into alleys at night was how news headlines started.
Omega!Reader, who keeps working, keeps ignoring it, until one day the wind shifts. The scent that slips through the vent isn't subtle anymore. It's unmistakable. Alpha. Raw and dark and something that makes her knees buckle.
Omega!Reader, whose body reacts before her mind catches up. Slick, warm, and unwanted, sliding down her inner thighs while she stands frozen at the prep counter, flour dusting her trembling hands.
Omega!Reader, who has never felt this with any alpha she's actually touched. But some phantom in an alley makes her body weep for it.
Omega!Reader, who goes to clean herself up in the bathroom, her pulse throbbing between her thighs.
Omega!Reader, who doesn't hear the drag of metal fingers against brick outside. Doesn't notice the change in the alpha's scent, sharper now, edged with something feral. It smells her slick, and the world narrows to that vent.
Thereâs something pitiful about seeing the taskforceâs new weapons specialist mope around so sadly all the time.
People ask whatâs wrong, they ask how work is going, but no one actually wants to hear about the nitty gritty details of it all. They don't really care about how you struggle to get out of your workshop most days. Nor do they care much when you mention how hard it is to continue working when the products youâre asked to use make you feel so ill. Itâs always a mild, âoh no.â At best, and then they're asking you to hurry up with their request or the like.
Maybe they feel good, because they were nice enough to ask you how you wereâ that they extended their time to you. Well, you don't really care, because it doesn't make you feel good.
It all started around four months ago. You had an experimental device quite literally blow up in your face, but you still learnt some pretty valuable data from it regardless. Of course, you could just write it down and go on with your day, but you were excited! This could turn into something really usefulâ a real game changer.
The only problem was, there was no one else in your team since specialists like you were so sparse. Well.. the sergeants were always nice to you. Youâre sure Soap would love to hear about an explosive device anyway.
âThatâs crazyâ
Well, it was a rather dry response compared to the ten texts you had sent over, but you suppose it could be worse. Maybe he was just waiting for you to finish?â
âSounds good đ â
Huh.. he sure did text like your dad. You put your phone down, a little disheartened by the lack of energy. Still, he could just be busy.. or a bad texter.. well itâs fine. Not a big deal. Youâre an adult, and you still have more work to doâ you can totally just tell him in person instead!
âSo then when i tested it, it didn't even react badly at all! There was a little bit of fumes, but hardly near last time.â Itâs been a whole week since, and you just couldn't hold it in today, telling him all about it. Besides, itâs lunch time, and he collected you from your lab so it must be fine. âSo.. uh, any progress on the stuff we asked you to make a while back?â
You tilt your head, confused by his words. âThe new breaching device? I mean, I sent that through a while ago. Thatâs not my fault if the testing and safety team haven't approved it yet though.â
âIt is approved.â Price pops out of nowhere, almost making you jump before he pats his hand on your shoulder and grabs the last cake. Sneaky. âTheyâll be arriving in time for our next op, Soap.â
You just grin, happy now that itâs gone through as you come and sit with them. As you eat, you start to realise he didn't really react to your story at all, just waiting until he could ask the question. Still, you refused to believe it was on purpose. He mustâve just been worried about the op
So you try Kyle next. Itâs been a while, and they just returned from said op a week ago, so you figure itâs been enough time now.
âHey Kyle, what do you think of these plans? I'm kind of worried itâll react oddly with the metals, so thereâs also this option. And I could just scrap it all together and make this instead.â
He doesn't reply initially, even if you can see his little icon is online, so you wait in your lab, lips turned down in a frown. Itâs only twenty whole minutes later when your phone suddenly dings, making you rush over to check. âSounds good.â
Huh?
He hadn't even answered the question you asked, not even in the slightest. Maybe he replied specifically to a plan you sent? Nope, not even. Just those two words. You let out a long sigh, glancing back at the prototype and just deciding to go ahead. Maybe he was in a rush but wanted to just give you an answer to your first question.
â-------------------
You cough harshly as you grab a water bottle from the rec room fridge, face scrunching up at the sharp wrack of it against your chest. Damnit, maybe these new concepts weren't a good idea in the slightest.
âWhatâs wrong with you?â Ghost comes up beside you, grabbing a water bottle for himself and making you frown at his gruff tone. Then again, heâs always been like that, so what can you really expect?
âProbably just some strong chemical I used.â You shrug, almost struggling to open the cap. âIâll probably have to spend tomorrow doing paperwork instead..â
âNo can do, we need more units of the prototype you put through the other week.â Price says from the armchair near the tv, stacks of paperwork on the coffee table.
âBut..â
âThe mission is next week and we have hardly any time to waste.â
Ghost only shrugs, sipping his own bottle of water down anyway. âDonât know what the problem is, it is your job. Youâve got the weekend to rest up anyway.â
â------------
The longer you work on the units, the less time you spend outside of your lab. Even when you do somehow build the hope up to message one of them again, the best you get is a reaction in the chat, or an emoji. Other times they directly ignore whatever you had talked about, switching the conversation to something else. Plus, the one time you had gotten out and asked Soap if he wanted to go on a walk, he had barely let you get a word in.
âPrice.. You got a minute?â This is the worst youâve felt in forever. Youâre not sure if it's spending all day getting hand cramps that has you, or spending all week worrying over if you really are just really annoying.
âGot one for you. Go on.â
Your palms are sweaty, and you wipe them against your jeans, suddenly really nervous about all this. Itâs not like you haven't had good conversations with him before, and heâs never been explicitly rude either. Still, you can't help but wait for the inevitable.
âSo? What is it?â He glances up at you, his pen on the papers heâs looking over and you just sit there on the couch, tongue falling still as you stare back at him.
âI..â
Do you start telling him a story? Maybe about how you feel? Or a rant? Do you tell him about the new weaponry because as a captain heâd want better right? Or do you tell him about the current project because heâd want an update?
What is the right thing to say?
âIâm a bit busy, you know.â He gestures to the papers and then glances back over you, who still sits there like your switch just wont turn on no matter how hard you try.
âI.. was just wondering if you wanted a cup of tea.â You eventually mumble, even if the words sound utterly wrong strung together and youâre closer to nonsense than speaking normally.
âYeah, could do with one. Thanks.â He instantly shifts his attention back to his work and you swallow, stepping back and out of his office.
Then a few days later, they left, off for the mission for two whole weeks and you were on your own again. So here you are now, others asking if youâre okay and taking advantage of your âfree timeâ since they assumed, when the taskforce was gone, you had no work.
You come back to your lab, only leaving because you needed to grab a package you orderedâ itâs been days since youâve actually left your lab. Youâre getting real sick of people asking for everything under the sun, or just straight up giving you odd looks when you even come near them anymore. In fact youâre starting to get really sick of everyone. With a long sigh, you stare at the message lighting up your phone. Really? You had to find out from some random soldier that theyâre returning back today? They were supposed to be your teamâ werenât you hired for their taskforce?
Feeling petty, you turn on do not disturb, although a small part of you knows that no notifications will even come through anyway. Instead, you let your eyes flicker to the broken parts sitting on your table, the chemicals littered across the lab. How did you come to dread the one thing you loved so much?
As you let your head rest on your scratched palms, you turn the music on your headphones louderâ hoping to drown out the silence following you for days. Youâre so sick of this.
â----------------
A whole day has passed since they got back from the mission and Price hasn't seen you onceâ you even missed the debrief session that discussed how well your devices work and how to implement them moving forward.
For some reason youâve been spending more and more time in your labâ not that heâs bothered to ask why though. He always just boiled it down to too much work. They all had too much; itâs just life.
âGot the report but no one responded from the lab. Figured theyâre not in there, Cap.â Gaz says, having just tried to deliver the documents to you but to no avail.
âHave you tried their room?â He huffs, wondering why Gaz was being so pedantic at all. Obviously if you werent in one place you must be the other.
âYes sir, looks like it hasnt even been touched for a week though.â
âFine. Iâll handle it.â He takes the report and tucks it with his pile as he dismisses Gaz, carrying in with more pressing matters.
Itâs only that evening that he remembers, finding it again when he was looking for another document. Well, he fancied a cup of tea anyway, so he might aswell just deliver it on the way.
âOiâ Dont tell me you have those damn headphones again.â
Thereâs no response when he knocked, and so he groans, deciding to put the master key to good use and open the door. Immediately heâs hit with the strong fumes from mixed chemicals, so bad he has to pull up his shirt to cover his mouth. âWhat the..â
In the midst of it all you lay on your desk, passed out and arms limp at your sides, like the dead bodies heâd find out there in the field. âWhat did I say about falling asleep in here?â He grumbles, walking over to nudge your shoulder. You were a light sleeper anyways, he knew from the tiredness that lingered some mornings. Except.. you didn't even twitch.
He nudges you again, harder, before yanking your head up by your hood just to watch your head loll like a doll would. Your face is pale, like life has been sucked out and when his hand finds a weak pulse thatâs when he realises something is very wrong.
This thing has been out of print for like, 26 years and some of us want to make chubby classic pikachu so uh... I figure it's okay to share bc it's kinda hard to get your hands on the remaining physical copies.
Bonus points: Aelith made some embroidery/applique files for it too
This is FREE, please don't pay for the pattern.
Only the EMBROIDERY is paid.
Remade by AeilithArt so that we could use the pattern without like, destroying it. It's not exact since it's trace, but it's p much the same
can we get a flashback about daredevil!reader and clark meeting for the first time plsss đŠđŠ like maybe their work lives clashed or maybe she met superman first and noticed something familiar abt clark kent. idk but she just seems so cool
.ŕłŕż COURTSIDE MANNER
summary â she's a lawyer representing a metahuman, and he's the journalist sent on assignment to write the story on it. it doesn't take much to realise that clark kent's got a few secrets up his sleeve.
pairings â clark kent x daredevil!reader
pronouns â she/her
word count â 3265
note â oh i love this!!! i've been thinking about their first time meeting for the longest time and so this finally gave me the excuse to write about it :) (this one kinda rolls into the events of 'house tour' btw). masterlist for daredevil!reader here
AUTUMN WAS LOVELY THIS time of year.
the air was starting to cool down, the perfect combination with the leftover warmth of the summer sun. it was her favourite time of year because the weather wasn't too hot or too cold, a gentle comfort to her heightened senses.
it was nice enough weather that she could stand outside and ignore her impatience, her blazer draped over her arm and her tie loose, the top button of her shirt undone. her watch spoke the time to her â quarter past ten. clark kent was fifteen minutes late.
the only reason she wasn't frustrated was because the daily planet was paying her for this story. they wanted a story out of one of the biggest cases involving a metahuman, and with her as the lawyer, they wanted notes on the court case itself as well as her insights into it. usually she would say no but money was tight at the moment â this case would be a make or break for her career.
"i'm so sorry," her head tilted to the side at the sound of a voice directly in front of her. it was a nice voice; not too deep, not too high, but a soothing lull that not many people had anymore. "it has been a hectic morning. i'm clark." she sensed a shift in the air, his hand held out in front of him for her to shake. she ignored it, pushing her glasses up her nose and clearing her throat, tapping her white cane against the ground to draw attention to the obvious.
there was something off about him. she could smell fresh air like he had bathed in it, the type of air only one could get from being so high up away from the city. there was a salty tang of rain on her tongue when she breathed in, which was odd because it hadn't rained in at least a week now. she didn't let her confusion show on her face.
"good gosh, i am so sorry!" his eyes widened, awkwardly dropping his hand back to his side. "i didn't realiseâ"
"i'm blind, to get the obvious out of the way," she instead held her hand out to him, deciding it was worth it to be civil with the journalist that was going to be glued by her side for as long as the case went on for. she told him her name, and his large hand clasped her own in the form of a firm handshake, mentioning that his name was clark kent and that he was 'beyond thrilled' to be working with her.
turning, she began to walk inside, clark close by her side. "i'm assuming this is your first story like this?" she asked. "y'know, working on an active court case?"
"first time working on something like this, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "i'm an investigative journalist but this is my first time not writing something after it's already happened."
"as long as you can keep up," she didn't say it necessarily dryly, but she was used to working solo and didn't need him ruining that. "guide me, please?" she reached out for his arm, not needing the help but knowing it was good to keep up appearances.
"of course," he said kindly, letting her arm wrap around his own. she wasn't ignorant to the fact that his biceps bulged, hidden underneath his blazer like they were never there.
THE CASE WAS NOT simple. clark was mentally preparing to strap in for a long trial.
mason hughes was a metahuman charged with murder. he was a lovely man to sit down and talk to â according to her, clark hadn't yet spoken with him â but he had found himself in a difficult situation. mason had been in wars in the middle east as a marine, and upon returning home, his condition was so shaken that the creature living inside of him took over during his sleep and killed his neighbour.
she explained a brief overview of the defense on the way into the court room. they were pressing with a claim that mason wasn't in the right state of mind when it happened, going with PTSD after he returned home from overseas. his neighbour had been setting off firecrackers in the hallway while drunk, and mason mistook that for gunfire and the creature within him took over to protect them both. clark made sure to note it all down with his pen as he sat in the front row of the public gallery.
"you survived day one," she hummed once they met back up again outside of the room. "congratulations."
clark had a feeling she wasn't very welcoming. he didn't blame her, she was used to working alone in a setting that wasn't an official office like he was used to, but he hoped she would open up over the course of the trial.
"thanks!" he smiled at her even though he knew she couldn't see it. her arm looped through his again, her cane in her other hand. "you were amazing."
she shrugged. it wasn't much, there were a few witnesses brought forth to convince the jury of his guilt or innocence, but for now that was nothing. it wouldn't be much until she convinced mason to take the stand to explain his side of the story better.
CLARK WAS LATE AGAIN. she couldn't really blame him this time when she was being rushed to take shelter, her bearings momentarily thrown off entirely.
people were screaming and running into each other. so much was going on at once that she almost ran straight into a wall after someone barreled into her as fast as they could run.
she could hardly visualise what was going on. in the past few minutes, multiple words had been tossed around throughout the screams. something about 'monster!' and 'what the fuck is that?!' and 'oh my god, we're gonna die!'. that mixed with thunderous footsteps and roars of terror painted a big enough picture for her to understand.
"okay, everything should be fine soon," a woman's voice told her gently. from what she could hear, it was an older woman, with slightly wrinkled hands to match. "the justice-whatever they're called are here . . . so is superman."
which probably meant another intergalactic threat. those seemed to be a newest thing at the moment to the point where she swore there was one every second week. if she didn't love metropolis so much she would've moved far away a long time ago. there was something that drew them here like a beacon of chaos.
"is everyone okay?" the voice was deep, but there was a level of care that was so unlike most superheroes in metropolis. the justice gang had never cared this much about the safety of the public, and from what she had heard, superman was usually the one saving the people from their carnage. she could only assume it was him that was talking right now based on the few times she had heard him speak on tv.
"i think so," the woman helping her spoke up for everyone. there had to be at least ten people stuck in the little space inside the lobby of the court they crouched in. security had flipped tables from inside the rooms and dragged them out to act as a barricade to keep them safely behind the front desk in the lobby. "could you give us a hand here?"
"of course," superman said, and her head snapped up at that. it sounded so familiar . . .
"good afternoon, ma'am," and suddenly that same voice was being spoken gently in front of her. "do you mind if i help you up?"
he had helped everyone else out from behind the desk, and she was the last one left. "here," the older woman held out her white cane to superman, "she dropped this earlier."
"thank you," he told her politely in response. she accepted her cane back, and she used it to help stand along with superman's arm. his arm felt familiar, too.
she could smell fresh air again. the kind that was windswept, unruly, and free from pollution. it was all too similar to the journalist that had been glued to her side for the past week now. eyebrows furrowing, she held her breath for a moment and concentrated through the loudness of the environment, ears focusing on the specific heartbeat of superman, and how it tangled with his breathing. she made a mental note of the rhythm.
"thank you for your help," she finally said, losing focus and submerging back into the unfocused world instead of her concentrated one. "what's happening out there?"
"the justice gang are fighting something out there," superman said, but she wasn't blind to the slight grind in his teeth. he was annoyed, his breathing fell uneven to show it. "my priority is keeping you safe."
i fear i don't need it, but thanks, she thought, knowing she could never say it aloud. she was, without a doubt, the safest in this court building considering that she was aware of everything going on around her without needing to see. had she been able to sneak away, she would've been able to help. the lovely woman helping her had done the right thing in helping her more than the rest, because not helping a blind woman was probably unethical, but it was a little frustrating in times such as these. hiding away was never her preferred way of dealing with a problem. this city was hers, too. she had promised a long time ago to protect it.
"you're very kind, superman," she remained polite, upholding an image she knew would be beneficial for later.
he looked at her for a few moments too long, thinking about her from the perspective of clark a lot more than the perspective of superman, before clearing his throat. his voice was louder when he spoke again. "alright, i'm going to escort you guys out of here. follow me."
"SORRY," CLARK HUFFED, CATCHING his breath as he stumbled into her office. "i was actually going to be on time and then this huge monster thing appeared from the sky and i got separated in the confusionâ sorry, are you okay? you're not hurt orâ?"
he was rambling. she sat patiently as he stood by her door doing so. her fingers stopped dancing across braille, pausing like the words displayed through the bumps would etch permanently into her skin.
"i'm fine," she said, "are you okay?"
he took two steps closer and suddenly her eyes widened. there was that fresh air smell again, and this time there were hints of dusty debris and something foreign, something unlike anything she had ever sensed before.
and then she heard it.
that same rhythm that synced his breathing with his heart. if she hadn't been able to hear that, she'd think no different â that there was no possible way superman and clark kent could be the same person. clark was a regular guy that was a little nervous at the best of times and spoke on the softer, higher end of his vocal range. superman spoke deep, commanding, a caring energy fused with power. they were two different ends of one spectrum.
she wasn't going to say anything. what was the point? he would deny it, and it wasn't like she was the journalist who would go spilling a story on superman's identity. she was just a lawyer trying to serve justice. it was really no interest of her as to what clark did in his spare time, and it wasn't like she was going to keep in contact with him after this trial was done.
"yeah," he breathed out, running his fingers through his hair like stress was gnawing at him. she noticed he was incredibly good at acting, almost as good as she was. maybe he would be better at it if she couldn't see right through him. not literally but the point still stands. "pretty scary stuff. but i'm here now, so . . . sorry for being late."
she shrugged, her fingers resuming their tracing over braille. "don't make it a habit."
"AND IF YOU CAN find a shred of humanity in your hearts, you will come to realise that mason hughes is as human as the rest of us, and that precedence from past cases of the same regard should matter in this court of law. he is, after all, just like the rest of us. mason is a veteran, and right now he needs all the help he can get to adjust back to life in metropolis."
clark hung onto every word she said, his pen stilling against paper, his jaw ajar.
"is what mason did wrong? yes. i think murder shouldn't go without punishment, but is it not punishment enough that he suffers every damn day with the weight of what he did?" her breathing was unsteady, facing the jury and trying to gather a read on their emotions. "the fact that he has to go to bed every night scared that it could happen again? is that not punishment? mason has committed his crime and he is willingly ready to admit himself for proper psychiatric care so that this never happens again. he is a veteran abandoned by our government and he deserves justice for this just as much as oliver kokov, our victim, deserves justice for his life. this is more than putting a man behind bars, this is about fair treatment. why does mason deserve different treatment than other veterans who are not metahumans who have committed a similar crime? i urge you to think about this when making your decision. we're all human, and we all deserve a chance to right our wrongs, just like my client, mason hughes, is willing to do. thank you."
the courtroom was so silent that the blood in her ears rushed loud. she made her way back to the table beside her client, feeling for the edges of the chair so that she could sit back down. this was about to be the scariest outcome of her entire career, and as the lawyer stood from the prosecution table to deliver his final speech to the jury, all she could do was look forward and try breathe through it. mason was antsy, his knee bouncing under the table. she could hear clark scribbling notes in the first row behind her. every sound was suddenly so overwhelming that it took everything in her not to cover her ears with her hands until it was over.
SHE could breathe again when the session was over and the guards were getting ready to transport mason back to where he was being held. "what's gonna happen to me?" he asked her, fear entangled in his words. "i don't wanna get locked up forever."
she wasn't going to lie to him and tell him it was going to all be okay. "i think you've got a good chance at rehabilitation in a psychiatric facility. it'll help you a lot more than a regular jail will."
the very first thing she had done when getting hired by mason was tell him that there was no way she could keep him out from behind bars. instead, she could fight for his best possible outcome, and he had been okay with that because he knew that he committed the crime and therefore had to serve whatever was thrown at him. he just wanted proper help, and that was something she could fight for.
mason breathed a sigh. "whatever the outcome is . . . thank you. you were the only one who believed in me, y'know? i justâ thank you."
she nodded. the guards pulled him from his chair. "if the jury doesn't reach a verdict anytime soon, i'll be in touch. you have my number."
he was taken away back through the side door he was brought in through earlier, and taking his place beside her was clark. "that was fantastic, oh my gosh," he wordlessly helped her pack up her things. "all that stuff about him being human . . . which he is obviously but y'know . . . ugh, incredible. i wish you could've seen their faces, i think you've definitely gotten some of them to rethink their position on this."
and through all his rambling, she found a way to crack a smile. never before had he managed to make her do that by talking so much, but this time she couldn't help it. just the thought that he cared this much to describe it all to her was so sweet that it was hard to breathe again.
"you're smiling," he noticed, and she could hear the smile in his own words. he pointed it out as if she were also blind to her own facial expressions. "because of something i said . . .?"
"mhm," she hummed, rolling her eyes behind her glasses. "don't get used to it, kent; trial's almost over."
the air felt heavy at the thought of it. maybe working alongside someone wasn't awful. he bought her coffee when he bought his own hot chocolate, unprompted, to the point where it had become a tradition every time they met up at court or in her office. he spoke even softer around her when he realised that her hearing had strengthened to adapt to losing sight as a sense. she kept pancake mix in the cupboard at her office because there was a stove there that she never used ( because why even is there a stove? ) and he liked to make pancakes for dinner when they worked on the case late into the night.
don't get used to it. he was well past that point by now, seeing her was the highlight of his day. working on this case had been so enjoyable that he didn't even think about that fact that it had immensely boosted his own career, more so that he got to work alongside her again. he talked about her constantly when he was back at his desk in the bullpen at the daily planet, so much so that lois lane and jimmy olsen teased him relentlessly. it was just different, it felt like there was so much more to journalism than just writing about interviews with superman. he wanted to do more, and this was his gateway.
"so . . . what now?" clark changed the subject swiftly, but his smile didn't disappear once. not even when the prosecution gave them dirty looks when they thought he wasn't looking. "i mean, i've got a lot of writing to do but . . ."
"we wait for the verdict," she told him, "and until then, i guess this is where we part ways."
"mhm . . . maybe," clark hummed in response, "but, if you're free, i'd love to pick your brain about the case," he said it casually, but she heard his heartbeat pick up. "that's if you're free."
she paused to think about it for a moment. could it hurt? it's not like she was doing much else except anxiously waiting however long it would be until the jury reached a verdict. with a case like this, it could take up to a month. in the meantime she had to get her notes together for this case and help with clark's story. "i suppose i'm free," she could feel her lips twitch upwards, no matter how much she tried to rid the feeling. "head back to mine?"
clark nodded, bundling up her files and putting them into his briefcase now that they were heading off together. "done deal."
You were not expecting anything from this new placement. You knew better now a days, have been on the system since day 1, and at this point? You know better than to hope.
Usually the houses you ended up in were all mediocre at best. Foster parents that already had their own children were the most neglectful homes, even to their own children. Which also resulted in bad blood between the foster kids and the biological kids.
And worst of all, you were human. Just a simple, small, defenseless human stuck in the foster system. Usually, they try to match human kids with human foster parents. But, humans were not a big part of the population, in fact, different kind of hybrids were the biggest part of the population.
And now, failed attempts after failed attempts, you got transfered to a neighbor city (not for the first time), and this time, to a hybrid pack househood. It wasn't your first time with hybrids, but it was always a little scary. They were strangers, and adult hybrids were SO much bigger than humans. Especially a human your age, with your small size thanks to lack of care throughout the years.
Hybrids were bigger, stronger, scarier... still, you knew it couldn't be worse than some houses you have been in before, or at least, that's what you're telling yourself. Not that your social worker was helping with your anxiety, as the old bear hybrid woman gave you some information about your new foster family.
They were a big pack, which was a concept you already had difficulty to grasp. Pack doesn't always mean the nuclear family, but could also mean family friends, or sometimes, just relatives. As a human, hearing the word "pack", or "hoard", or "coven", or whatever else they could use to name their little groups, always left you a little confused.
They were four hybrid parents, a Dragon, a Werewolf, a Harpy and a Wraith. They were all part of the military, special forces or something, and they had a lot of children already, children that were already adults and had moved out some time ago. They were taking fosters now, and accordingly to your social worker, they were delightful and very nurturing parents.
You don't know what to think of that.
So all you could do was hold tightly to your beated backpack straps as your social worker excitedly introduced you to four hybrid men in their big house, giant hybrid men with so many muscles, and why is everyone so big and buff?? You knew they were military before, but god dammit, they could crush you with one hand. Here to hoping you don't annoy them to that point.
You weren't really making eye contact, keeping your eyes to the ground as you heard your social worker talk to the new fosters, but still, you would peak at them every couple of seconds or so, just to assess how they were reacting to your presence.
The dragon, one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen, had that kinda of... respectful and mature face, smart eyes that went between you and the social worker as he nodded along to what she was saying. He was standing still, arms crossed lightly, and just one big wing carefully drapped behind his back. He smiled lightly, trying to keep casual and confortable to the new people, avoiding staring at you too much, no matter how much he wanted to.
The harpy, that was standing by the dragon's side, had such a gentle smile on his face that you avoided looking at his face again after the first peak. Gentle eyes, gentle smile, gentle demeanour. His giant, featherly wings, were also carefully tucked behind his back, almost as if to make himself smaller. Tho, it didn't help your anxiety as you saw how his feet looked like... not feet, in fact, talons.
The werewolf, a weird guy with a mohawk for christ sake, didn't even try to hide it how much he was staring. Big eyes on top of you, tail wagging a bit too fast behind him as his wolf ears perked up and moved as the social worker talked. Still, his eyes were just on you, assessing your small and timid demeanour, how truly small a human could be, how defenseless you looked.
The wraith wasn't that different either. Staring at your face with a stoic and passive look, even tho a balaclava with some skull prints covered most of his face besides the eyes, that had some... shadowy thing around them. He looked bigger than the others, but you could still see he was sligthly shorter than the Dragon, he was just buffer, and was also staring directly at you. He almost forgot how pathetic humans could be.
All of them were caught a little of guard, actually.
You were small, already small for a human, but for hybrids? Almost like a little kid. Humans rarely build much muscle throughout their teens too, so you looked like a skinny little thing, differently from how other races' kids worked. You looked like a small, young child, but even their little kids had some kind of protection. Sharp teeths, or shap claws, or sharp talons, or any kind of ability that could defend themselves.
You had nothing of the sort. You didn't have any nails, basically, short as they were in a small and delicate little hand. Feet tucked safely inside your round little sneakers, feet that, of course, wouldn't have any talons, and were delicate enough to have to stay protected by shoes. Your teeth were round and flat, looked so small too, just like your short tongue. You were soft, all soft and small and delicate. Just like a human is compared to hybrids.
Johnny had to control himself not to coo at the sight as you gently licked your uper lip and quietly fidget in place, slightly behind the big bear hybrid that was your social worker. They had a lot of kids, and he was there since all of them were a baby, but since they were all hybrids, seeing a small little thing like you, unprotected and without any kind of abilities... it made something stirr inside of him.
All of the others were in the same boat, to be fair. Parental instincts going into high overdrive just by looking at you. John was just trying his best to pretend he wasn't that effected since he still needed to pay attention to the social worker, and Kyle was making a good job of discreetly nudging Johnny and Simon so they could stop staring so hard at you.
"So, if any trouble arises, you can always call me. Even if it's just questions, anything you might be worried about, i'll help you out. Is that okay?"
"Perfectly fine, ma'am." The dragon immediatly answers, smiling neutrally as he nods.
"Yeah, this isn't our first time doing this." The harpy jokes slightly, charming smile on his face as he makes your social worker laugh a little bit with him.
"I know it isn't, boys, but it is your first time taking care of a human." She points out, a small smile on her face despite the serious tone. "They are not the same as hybrids, you know that."
"Of course. We're going to be very careful with them, don't worry." The dragon immediatly goes to sooth her worries, nodding easily.
"As i hope. Please, call me if you need anything! And, good luck, boys!"
Now, it's just you and your four new foster parents.
Corruption kink with boyfriend Simon Riley, part 3 (nsfw)
Part 2 here
Turns out, you are a dirty, needy girl. Now that youâve had a taste of his touch, you want it all the time.
Itâs not uncommon for you to seek him out when you have a bad day, when youâre stressed, when you need a distraction, or when youâre merely bored and horny. And he loves it.
God, he loves it. He loves the way youâll crawl into his lap, the way youâll give him that shy, needy look. And he knows what you want, he knows what you need.
He used to touch you through your pants or your shorts. But today, youâre wearing a skirt as you climb onto his lap, already kissing his lips, whispering please, please.
He grins, kissing your jaw, your neck, as his hand slides up your thigh. You poor, sweet thing, knowing only he can give you what you want, the way you want it. Such a good girl.
His hand finds its way under your skirt and presses against the thin, flimsy fabric of your panties.
Oh, fuck.
The cotton does absolutely nothing to hide how wet you are. He can feel the outline of your pussy and he inhales deeply, searching for control.
Usually, he just rubs his hand against you in the general area where your clit is. But nowâŚnow he can find it and give it the treatment it deserves.
When he presses his thumb against your sensitive nub, your body jerks and you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders where theyâre holding onto him.
He grunts. âGood?â he asks as he draws little circles with his thumb.
You nod eagerly, hips grinding against his hand. âSo good,â you whine.
So he draws it out, plays with your clit until youâre shivering and gasping, and then one of his fingers slides down to press against your entrance ever so slightly.
Your body tenses, convulses in a sudden orgasm as you squeal, moaning.
He rides out your high as long as he can, rubbing your cunt until youâre pushing him away, whining, âToo much.â
As he finally retracts his fingers, he leans in to kiss you. Against your lips, he says, âSomeday, baby, Iâm gonna put my fingers in you, feel how tight that pretty pussy is, yeah? Gonna have you full of me, hon.â
My father got mad at me when I couldnât remember a word in Spanish and what it meant in English, called me an idiot cause I couldnât for the life of me remember what it was called. It bothers me cause I know Iâm dumb but just hearing it kinda hurts.
titsay
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
