Does this ever happen to you? It's just you and your best friend. Suddenly, a new girl arrives, and because you know what it's like not to fit in or to be new somewhere, you include her in your friendship, making it a friendship of three.
But after two years of friendship, the girl you added to your group now hangs out with your best friend much more, and soon they start to pull away from you. So then, because of some silly fight, you and your first best friend argue over something stupid, and she ends up hating you for it. Meanwhile, the third friend keeps hanging out with both you and your first best friend, enjoying the attention from both of you.
Then you get tired of it, and for another stupid reason, you and your first best friend get into an even worse fight. After that, you start avoiding the third friend because you realize she only enjoys the attention.
But now you're sad about having lost their friendship, even knowing that you're doing much better now?
Heyyy! Well, this is the first part and I hope you guys like it, there won't be yandere behavior yet since it would be like the "introduction" of the story.
TW: neglect, mentions of attempted murder, abandonment, past illness, insults. English is not my native language, any complaints to Google Translate 😔
You had been adopted when you were 8 years old, you were sick, nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, your medications were expensive and your appearance wasn't that of an ideal daughter. People wouldn't want to adopt a big girl like you, they preferred babies or little kids who looked like them.
Although of course, the number of abandoned orphans was way higher than the number of adopted orphans.
You weren't going to last more than three months, Bruce Wayne adopted you when you felt like you were going to die soon. You knew that Bruce hadn't done it out of simple kindness, or maybe he had, but you knew that lately his reputation wasn't all that good. Adopting a sick girl and giving her all the luxuries in her last days was something he could use to win the public over again, but you were thankful for it, you really were very grateful.
You would be today, tomorrow, and forever.
But you didn't die 3 months later, you felt like keeping on living and your mood improved your health. You loved Bruce a lot and you were happy with him and the other members of his family. Of course it wasn't the happy family, nothing was all sunshine and rainbows, but you got better, you laughed with Alfred and then both of you would play, of course, at the speed and pace of an old man and a girl who limped. Don't worry sweetie, you recovered from that limp a few months later.
As I was saying; you got better from your illness, Bruce was okay with that, but he had to admit he hadn't planned on having you in the mansion for more than 3 months, he also couldn't kick you out, he knew your health could drop fatally if he sent you back. You were always a hyperactive, energetic kid. You always tried to play or get close to your "brothers."
But sometimes they could be pretty cruel, you understood them of course, but you still cried when they ignored you, when they made excuses, when they straight up interrupted you saying "I'm busy, don't bother me" (fucking Dick in his emo phase, you could be nicer).
But anyway, you thought you could win their affection, you just needed a little more charisma.
You were 9 when Jason died in Ethiopia in a terrorist attack according to what Alfred told you.
10 when Tim arrived and you saw that even though he was new, he quickly earned Bruce's approval and Dick's, that surprised you. Tim had been welcomed with love and included even when Bruce had been in a horrible streak, maybe his introduction monologue was excellent, you didn't really understand what he was talking about when he arrived, Alfred had quickly sent you to your room.
For a girl your age it was a big blow, you felt envy and hatred toward Tim, but you were able to get over it when you saw that nobody paid attention to your tantrums.
After that, Stephanie, Cassandra, and the fucking spawn of Damian came to the family. Not to mention Duke who was the least important after you, but at least he was included.
Even now, there was a guy who looked like a troublemaker named Jason, yeah, like your old brother.
And that seemed horrible to you, but it didn't bother you as much as it should.
You had your own life, at 14 years old you stopped caring about all this shit after Bruce told you to stay away from Damian because he had tried to kill you quite a few times.
It was clear that you valued your life and with the card that Bruce gave you your life was way better.
Why stay in the mansion when you could go shopping with your friends?
Why stay in the mansion when you could throw parties in some of Bruce's other properties?
Why stay in the mansion when you could do everything a rich teenager could have?
Why stay in the mansion when you could do whatever you wanted with the little, almost zero adult supervision you had?
Well, until your card expired.
—"hey Bruce, could you renew my card? It's gonna expire in a few days." —you said one morning, Bruce was with Damian in the garden, Damian had a sword in his hand and was practicing some moves while Bruce supervised him. —"since when does Damian know how to use swords? And since when do YOU know about swords?"
You were confused, Bruce looked at you and he seemed scared in a way, it was like he was afraid you'd discover something.
—"it's a katana, you fucking ignorant."—Damian spoke and approached you with the katana in hand.
Obviously you backed away as fast as you could, you were scared of that brat and it wasn't without reason, he had tried to kill you in different ways and the last time was less than a year ago.
—"Y/N, enough." —Bruce said, it seemed weird to you that he'd use that tone, but Damian stopped approaching you and just looked at you with superiority. —"I'll see about your thing, go to your room."
And you did, you left without saying a word.
You hated how they treated you, Dick and Jason had been nice to you at first, after Jason's death Dick became darker, he had stopped talking to you and distanced himself from everything for a while.
Barbara wasn't the best either, she tutored you, but after Jason's death you couldn't learn as fast as before. It was one afternoon when she was teaching you calculus, after several failed attempts of yours that she sighed, took off her glasses, rubbed her temple and then a: "I can't take this anymore, I'm done. Tell Bruce not to call me for this anymore."
Tim was always in his own thing, you didn't understand how he even got there, but once when you tried to pretend to be smart and talk in technical language like he did, all you got was a: "go find a personality, you want?"
Stephanie wasn't much different, she was always with Tim and there was a time when she would come when he wasn't there and spend hours with Bruce.
Cassandra wasn't communicative and preferred to keep her distance, she didn't try to get close either so she was a stranger to you.
But you felt great contempt for Stephanie and Cassandra because they were close to Barbara.
The second Jason arrived later, you didn't know much of the context but he seemed to get along badly with everyone, his appearance was scary and your sense of self-preservation still worked wonderfully so you didn't even get close to him.
You had already lost almost all interest in integrating into the family after all this, but that's when Damian arrived, they didn't formally introduce him to you, something that wasn't rare at all since nobody cared to notify you that there was a new member in the mansion.
But you realized this kid was dangerous because he had pushed you down the stairs in his first week. He had tried to stab you when you offered to help him decorate his room. And the most disturbing thing was that for a whole month he watched you sleep.
Alfred wasn't a great comfort to you either, he always seemed busy, even at night.
You cried, yeah. But for some reason after crying you felt better, you felt like the sadness was overshadowed by the stupidity of the situation.
You had friends, of course, you were popular. This meant you barely spent time in the mansion and spent more time at other people's houses.
Of course you came back to the mansion drunk, you had your car but you were responsible enough to call a taxi. And that's when one of the things that surprised you the most happened and made you believe the mansion is haunted.
You had arrived drunk, you were 16 and damn, that was the worst week.
You were trying to go up the stairs when some hands grabbed you and started guiding you.
—"Umh what?"— you had mumbled
—"shh, keep walking".— the person or ghost had told you
You tried to turn around to see who it was but that person didn't let you.
—"look forward"
The way to your room was basically a struggle between you wanting to see who it was and that person struggling so you wouldn't turn to look at them.
But you could swear it was the second Jason, you weren't sure. That voice and that strength were his, but he would never do something good for you, he barely looked at you.
Getting back to where we were, it was just a matter of time before your card expired.
You had tried to tell Bruce but he had no time. So, you went to the second option: Tim.
He was basically Bruce's right hand financially speaking. This took you several hours of meditation just to gather courage and talk to him. You went to his room, you had seen him arrive and he looked tired, his door was unlocked so you went in.
—"hey Tim, my card expired a few days ago, can you do something?"— you asked peeking through the door
He turned toward you in panic and threw the energy drink he had in his hand at you, the charged can hit you in the head and a sharp pain ran through you but it was overshadowed by the pain of the bruise.
—"DON'T EVER COME INTO MY ROOM AGAIN!!"—You heard the yell and then felt him slam his door behind you.
You were on the floor crying from the pain, Alfred was passing by and saw you, he thought about ignoring you like most times but he saw your forehead bleeding. You were surprised that Alfred knew how to suture wounds.
Later you grabbed your things and went to one of your friend's house. It was basically your second home and his mom was basically yours, they had gotten used to your presence and you to being there.
He, Jeremy, was one of the students who had entered the academy thanks to a Wayne Foundation scholarship and he was your best friend, you had lunch with them and almost cried when Jeremy's mom asked what happened to your forehead. After dessert you saw him getting ready.
—"I'm gonna go look for a job, I heard about a fast food place that doesn't exploit teens."
And out of pure curiosity you went with him, you didn't know how or why but you also applied for a job, you didn't see it as a need, you were doing it for fun. It was a win-win, you were with your best friend on an 8-hour shift, you found it fun to make burgers and dealing with customers was crazy. Some were nice and others had patience hanging by a thread, those were more fun to mess with. And the most fun part?
You earned money!
Nobody in your family found out that you were working now, maybe because you never mentioned it or maybe because nobody really cared, you doubted you'd get your card back, but it didn't matter, working was fun.
Tim had been acting weird lately, before he just ignored you, now when he sees you he whispers "hi."
At first you didn't notice his greetings because you thought it was your imagination, but after several times you started greeting him back with a "hey, everything good?" But he never answered, he just sped up his pace.
But everything changed one midday, it was peak hour for people wanting to eat, you were at the register taking orders and charging, you were good at that and it was your favorite activity.
—"hello good afternoon, what would you like to order?"— you asked cheerfully but arranging some things.
—"what the hell are you supposed to be doing here?"
You made a confused face and looked up, Bruce looked at you seriously, his blue eyes looked at you like they hadn't in years, you could even swear you didn't recognize him
—"working, why?"— you answered making a pout and shrugging your shoulders. The situation was absurd and the richest guy in Gotham was asking you dumb questions
—"working why?"
—"so they pay me?"— by this point you didn't even know what would happen next, you never got this far talking to him.
—"why do you need them to pay you? You have the extension card"
—"oh, about that....well...it expired and I thought it was fun to work here."— you explained, nervous and seeing how the line was only growing behind Bruce. But you could see that at one of the tables were Dick, Damian, Duke and the second Jason. All looking at you.
—"ORDER YOUR FOOD AND LEAVE, HIJO DE PUTA!"— someone yelled from the back of the line.
This is gonna get weird when you get to the mansion, you knew it.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thanks for reading.
Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
Heyyy! Well, this is the first part and I hope you guys like it, there won't be yandere behavior yet since it would be like the "introduction" of the story.
TW: neglect, mentions of attempted murder, abandonment, past illness, insults. English is not my native language, any complaints to Google Translate 😔
You had been adopted when you were 8 years old, you were sick, nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, your medications were expensive and your appearance wasn't that of an ideal daughter. People wouldn't want to adopt a big girl like you, they preferred babies or little kids who looked like them.
Although of course, the number of abandoned orphans was way higher than the number of adopted orphans.
You weren't going to last more than three months, Bruce Wayne adopted you when you felt like you were going to die soon. You knew that Bruce hadn't done it out of simple kindness, or maybe he had, but you knew that lately his reputation wasn't all that good. Adopting a sick girl and giving her all the luxuries in her last days was something he could use to win the public over again, but you were thankful for it, you really were very grateful.
You would be today, tomorrow, and forever.
But you didn't die 3 months later, you felt like keeping on living and your mood improved your health. You loved Bruce a lot and you were happy with him and the other members of his family. Of course it wasn't the happy family, nothing was all sunshine and rainbows, but you got better, you laughed with Alfred and then both of you would play, of course, at the speed and pace of an old man and a girl who limped. Don't worry sweetie, you recovered from that limp a few months later.
As I was saying; you got better from your illness, Bruce was okay with that, but he had to admit he hadn't planned on having you in the mansion for more than 3 months, he also couldn't kick you out, he knew your health could drop fatally if he sent you back. You were always a hyperactive, energetic kid. You always tried to play or get close to your "brothers."
But sometimes they could be pretty cruel, you understood them of course, but you still cried when they ignored you, when they made excuses, when they straight up interrupted you saying "I'm busy, don't bother me" (fucking Dick in his emo phase, you could be nicer).
But anyway, you thought you could win their affection, you just needed a little more charisma.
You were 9 when Jason died in Ethiopia in a terrorist attack according to what Alfred told you.
10 when Tim arrived and you saw that even though he was new, he quickly earned Bruce's approval and Dick's, that surprised you. Tim had been welcomed with love and included even when Bruce had been in a horrible streak, maybe his introduction monologue was excellent, you didn't really understand what he was talking about when he arrived, Alfred had quickly sent you to your room.
For a girl your age it was a big blow, you felt envy and hatred toward Tim, but you were able to get over it when you saw that nobody paid attention to your tantrums.
After that, Stephanie, Cassandra, and the fucking spawn of Damian came to the family. Not to mention Duke who was the least important after you, but at least he was included.
Even now, there was a guy who looked like a troublemaker named Jason, yeah, like your old brother.
And that seemed horrible to you, but it didn't bother you as much as it should.
You had your own life, at 14 years old you stopped caring about all this shit after Bruce told you to stay away from Damian because he had tried to kill you quite a few times.
It was clear that you valued your life and with the card that Bruce gave you your life was way better.
Why stay in the mansion when you could go shopping with your friends?
Why stay in the mansion when you could throw parties in some of Bruce's other properties?
Why stay in the mansion when you could do everything a rich teenager could have?
Why stay in the mansion when you could do whatever you wanted with the little, almost zero adult supervision you had?
Well, until your card expired.
—"hey Bruce, could you renew my card? It's gonna expire in a few days." —you said one morning, Bruce was with Damian in the garden, Damian had a sword in his hand and was practicing some moves while Bruce supervised him. —"since when does Damian know how to use swords? And since when do YOU know about swords?"
You were confused, Bruce looked at you and he seemed scared in a way, it was like he was afraid you'd discover something.
—"it's a katana, you fucking ignorant."—Damian spoke and approached you with the katana in hand.
Obviously you backed away as fast as you could, you were scared of that brat and it wasn't without reason, he had tried to kill you in different ways and the last time was less than a year ago.
—"Y/N, enough." —Bruce said, it seemed weird to you that he'd use that tone, but Damian stopped approaching you and just looked at you with superiority. —"I'll see about your thing, go to your room."
And you did, you left without saying a word.
You hated how they treated you, Dick and Jason had been nice to you at first, after Jason's death Dick became darker, he had stopped talking to you and distanced himself from everything for a while.
Barbara wasn't the best either, she tutored you, but after Jason's death you couldn't learn as fast as before. It was one afternoon when she was teaching you calculus, after several failed attempts of yours that she sighed, took off her glasses, rubbed her temple and then a: "I can't take this anymore, I'm done. Tell Bruce not to call me for this anymore."
Tim was always in his own thing, you didn't understand how he even got there, but once when you tried to pretend to be smart and talk in technical language like he did, all you got was a: "go find a personality, you want?"
Stephanie wasn't much different, she was always with Tim and there was a time when she would come when he wasn't there and spend hours with Bruce.
Cassandra wasn't communicative and preferred to keep her distance, she didn't try to get close either so she was a stranger to you.
But you felt great contempt for Stephanie and Cassandra because they were close to Barbara.
The second Jason arrived later, you didn't know much of the context but he seemed to get along badly with everyone, his appearance was scary and your sense of self-preservation still worked wonderfully so you didn't even get close to him.
You had already lost almost all interest in integrating into the family after all this, but that's when Damian arrived, they didn't formally introduce him to you, something that wasn't rare at all since nobody cared to notify you that there was a new member in the mansion.
But you realized this kid was dangerous because he had pushed you down the stairs in his first week. He had tried to stab you when you offered to help him decorate his room. And the most disturbing thing was that for a whole month he watched you sleep.
Alfred wasn't a great comfort to you either, he always seemed busy, even at night.
You cried, yeah. But for some reason after crying you felt better, you felt like the sadness was overshadowed by the stupidity of the situation.
You had friends, of course, you were popular. This meant you barely spent time in the mansion and spent more time at other people's houses.
Of course you came back to the mansion drunk, you had your car but you were responsible enough to call a taxi. And that's when one of the things that surprised you the most happened and made you believe the mansion is haunted.
You had arrived drunk, you were 16 and damn, that was the worst week.
You were trying to go up the stairs when some hands grabbed you and started guiding you.
—"Umh what?"— you had mumbled
—"shh, keep walking".— the person or ghost had told you
You tried to turn around to see who it was but that person didn't let you.
—"look forward"
The way to your room was basically a struggle between you wanting to see who it was and that person struggling so you wouldn't turn to look at them.
But you could swear it was the second Jason, you weren't sure. That voice and that strength were his, but he would never do something good for you, he barely looked at you.
Getting back to where we were, it was just a matter of time before your card expired.
You had tried to tell Bruce but he had no time. So, you went to the second option: Tim.
He was basically Bruce's right hand financially speaking. This took you several hours of meditation just to gather courage and talk to him. You went to his room, you had seen him arrive and he looked tired, his door was unlocked so you went in.
—"hey Tim, my card expired a few days ago, can you do something?"— you asked peeking through the door
He turned toward you in panic and threw the energy drink he had in his hand at you, the charged can hit you in the head and a sharp pain ran through you but it was overshadowed by the pain of the bruise.
—"DON'T EVER COME INTO MY ROOM AGAIN!!"—You heard the yell and then felt him slam his door behind you.
You were on the floor crying from the pain, Alfred was passing by and saw you, he thought about ignoring you like most times but he saw your forehead bleeding. You were surprised that Alfred knew how to suture wounds.
Later you grabbed your things and went to one of your friend's house. It was basically your second home and his mom was basically yours, they had gotten used to your presence and you to being there.
He, Jeremy, was one of the students who had entered the academy thanks to a Wayne Foundation scholarship and he was your best friend, you had lunch with them and almost cried when Jeremy's mom asked what happened to your forehead. After dessert you saw him getting ready.
—"I'm gonna go look for a job, I heard about a fast food place that doesn't exploit teens."
And out of pure curiosity you went with him, you didn't know how or why but you also applied for a job, you didn't see it as a need, you were doing it for fun. It was a win-win, you were with your best friend on an 8-hour shift, you found it fun to make burgers and dealing with customers was crazy. Some were nice and others had patience hanging by a thread, those were more fun to mess with. And the most fun part?
You earned money!
Nobody in your family found out that you were working now, maybe because you never mentioned it or maybe because nobody really cared, you doubted you'd get your card back, but it didn't matter, working was fun.
Tim had been acting weird lately, before he just ignored you, now when he sees you he whispers "hi."
At first you didn't notice his greetings because you thought it was your imagination, but after several times you started greeting him back with a "hey, everything good?" But he never answered, he just sped up his pace.
But everything changed one midday, it was peak hour for people wanting to eat, you were at the register taking orders and charging, you were good at that and it was your favorite activity.
—"hello good afternoon, what would you like to order?"— you asked cheerfully but arranging some things.
—"what the hell are you supposed to be doing here?"
You made a confused face and looked up, Bruce looked at you seriously, his blue eyes looked at you like they hadn't in years, you could even swear you didn't recognize him
—"working, why?"— you answered making a pout and shrugging your shoulders. The situation was absurd and the richest guy in Gotham was asking you dumb questions
—"working why?"
—"so they pay me?"— by this point you didn't even know what would happen next, you never got this far talking to him.
—"why do you need them to pay you? You have the extension card"
—"oh, about that....well...it expired and I thought it was fun to work here."— you explained, nervous and seeing how the line was only growing behind Bruce. But you could see that at one of the tables were Dick, Damian, Duke and the second Jason. All looking at you.
—"ORDER YOUR FOOD AND LEAVE, HIJO DE PUTA!"— someone yelled from the back of the line.
This is gonna get weird when you get to the mansion, you knew it.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thanks for reading.
Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
Dude I’m in love with the Talia x fem reader who is Damian’s 3rd parent . loved how you portrayed Damian can’t wait for more!what are Talia’s and Damians plan w f!reader?
Hi! I know it took me a long time to reply, and I apologize 😔.
On another note, I think the story could have two endings: in the first, Damian wins and stays with MamaReader. In the second, alternative ending, the three of them stay together as a "family."
You know, the typical family: a terrorist mother, a depressed, megalomaniacal genius (Reader), and a murderous prince.
I'll keep writing, and you might be able to read it soon. Love you all!
And if you have any more questions about my other fanfics, don't hesitate to ask!! 🫠🥰
How would you spend Christmas with each one? We'll see.
------------
BRUCE.
TW: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con, yandere behavior, non-consensual drug use, creampie.
His least favorite holiday, it made him feel horrible to see how such a large mansion was so empty during these dates, that was the hard part of being a vigilante, his kids were also busy patrolling or far away and out of contact with him after some stupid argument.
And he would be patrolling until dawn if it weren't for the fact that you would be waiting for him.
—"honey."— he whispered after entering the room and turning on the light.
You let out a small whimper, you were face down on the bed trying to drag yourself, apparently the small dose of drug he gave you before leaving.
—"come on, it wasn't that bad. You tried to escape"— he spoke in a low voice as he sat next to you and turned you over. —"you were the one who hurt me first."
You whimpered in discomfort when he tore your pajamas and straddled you to kiss and lick your neck.
But soon he moved to your collarbone and then up to your mouth while pinching one of your nipples, he loved when they were red after he pinched them hard.
—"S-stop...-you tried to refuse But it was useless."
—"it'll be quick and then we can watch a good Christmas movie while eating those Christmas sweets you like."
His voice in your ear made you shudder.
It was only a matter of time before he removed the little underwear you had left and spread your legs until your muscles burned. He put his fingers in your mouth until you gagged and then penetrated you with them while kissing you again.
Then he unbuttoned his pants and took out his painfully erect cock, he inserted it slowly and began to thrust into you quickly, he was sure he could feel the semen he left after fucking you before going out to patrol, the idea of you having his semen inside you excited him even more.
—"if I weren't a trained man I would have fucked you the moment I entered the mansion, But I love foreplay."
In this fic I had help and inspiration from: @skylamere -> here❤️
He has the Christmas spirit of a child, it's his favorite holiday and he loves it.
But he loves you more, god, you look so pretty in that Mrs. Claus dress that highlighted everything perfectly, the ropes on your legs, waist and hands made it so you couldn't get out of your chair and just watch as he happily prepared everything. They didn't hurt, they didn't leave deep marks... they just reminded you, with constant pressure, that you couldn't go anywhere.
—"Look how pretty the tree turned out"—he commented, as if you were voluntarily sharing the moment. He approached the table and took a star-shaped cookie, covered in white icing.—"I tried a new recipe. Honey and a touch of cardamom. I want you to be the first to try it."
He knelt in front of you, his expression was pure tenderness. With one hand he caressed your cheek, and with the other he brought the cookie to your lips.
—"Come on, precious. Open that little mouth. It's Christmas."— His voice was a sweet, persuasive whisper.
You shook your head and pressed your lips together, you could see how for a millisecond he put on a completely different face from the animated and happy expression he showed you 2 minutes ago.
—"are you serious? Right today?"— he asked and then rolled his eyes walking away —"if you don't eat, I'll untie you and shove my cock up your ass like I told you this morning, yeah?"
You nodded quickly and accepted the cookie, it was delicious But its sweet taste disgusted you in this situation. Midnight arrived faster than you would have liked, Dick had untied you so you could eat his banquet. You didn't eat much, you couldn't with him watching you and trying to make you laugh every so often, it was uncomfortable. You held back the urge to cry and scream for help while he made silly jokes and laughed alone.
—"well, I guess it's a good time to open the presents."— he smiled and stood up.
His blue eyes looked at you with macabre excitement, like a demon looking with amusement at his next victim. Seeing that you just stared at him he gestured for you to come closer.
But you didn't, you preferred to stay seated and away from him. That didn't seem to bother him as he grabbed a gift box from under the perfect Christmas tree and slid it across the table toward you. His look alone was enough to see how anxious he was for you to open it.
And you wished you hadn't. There were disgusting things inside. Things you didn't know the names of But you knew they were for bondage.
—"wow, Santa Claus was generous this year."—he laughed.
You stood up from the chair so hard that it fell to the floor with a loud noise.
But it was a matter of seconds before he caught you again when you tried to hide in the bedroom. You threw yourself to the floor, tried to fight But he was stronger, it was easy for him to pull up the tiny and tight dress you were wearing. You saw him looking for something But he pursed his lip when he couldn't find it.
You were able to push him when he moved away a bit but it was useless, you screamed when he grabbed the Christmas lights he had put on the window.
—"come on little cheap whore, you can't deny you like this."
You tried to fight as he started tying you with the Christmas lights.
—"you're a slut who loves to be mistreated, right?... Yeah...that's why you provoke me, you don't like it when I'm gentle."
When he finished tying you he spread your legs and buried his head, he ate your pussy eagerly, fingering you and stimulating your "U" spot hard. Ever since he learned that spot he loved how it made you scream.
He swallowed all your fluids happily, But while you recovered from the orgasm he unbuttoned his pants and played with his cock before shoving it into your wet pussy.
—"you have no idea how much I love you."—he affirmed as he sped up his thrusts.
TW: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con, non-consensual oral, insults, Tim is the darkest and cruelest, misuse of oral cavity, misuse of safe house.
Being the second most intelligent mind in the family wasn't easy, or well, yes The second mind overworked itself willingly also couldn't be defensible.
Tim wasn't very happy spending Christmas in the cave, not when he could be with the Titans or celebrating it with Conner and the others.
But his mind, his fucking mind wouldn't let him be at peace if there was a lot of work to do.
—"you're grazing me with your teeth, Y/N."— he spoke while still typing.—"and go deeper."
You looked at him with teary eyes, you had been on your knees under the batcomputer sucking his cock for a good while. Your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tied didn't allow you to move so any escape attempt would be stupid.
—"umhg-
You tried to speak and pull away from his cock But he grabbed your hair hard and pushed your head onto his cock which slid down your tight throat
—"shut up"— he hissed.
But your "work" didn't improve with the "motivation" he gave you.
He left his work in frustration and pulled you off his cock.
—"are you seriously that stupid? Your monkey brain doesn't want to cooperate today?...fucking idiot"
—"Tim I...I don't....please..."—you tried to speak, your voice was hoarse from how sore your throat was.
A slap knocked you to the floor, he stood up and kicked you in the stomach making you gasp, you would vomit if you had anything in there.
But Tim was so meticulous that he forced you to fast for 12 hours, he hated when you vomited on him.
—"one single thing and you can't do it right. One single thing..."
He breathed heavily, then grabbed your arm and made you stand up to be on your knees again. He brought his cock close again and you could only accept it.
His rhythm was hard and impatient, you could barely think due to the lack of oxygen, But you could hear him. Every single one of his insults to your intelligence.
Until he came and his seed went down your throat.
—"swallow it all "—he ordered.
And you did despite the coughing and gagging, because you knew things could get worse.
You were helpless, your eyes were swollen from crying all day, your cheeks were red and your chin was covered in drool and semen.
But even so he smiled and kissed you.
—"I love you, you know."
--
Thanks to everyone for reading, I really appreciate all the support.
Likes and reblogs are appreciated. I love you guys, seriously.
The night was almost coming to an end But still you ran trying to catch the 'villain of the week' (as Oliver called the less dangerous ones)
You didn't know who he was But you also didn't think he was a common villain. He had been doing illegal things, killing or rather making people disappear through portals and you couldn't just ignore that while your master was at the disco being as eccentric as ever. On the other hand you had also argued with him for a silly reason that he took very literally.
You didn't answer his phone nor patrolled with him But that never mattered much to Oliver because he knew you could take care of yourself.
You were Speedy after all.
You continued jumping between buildings trying to catch the despicable subject. You grabbed an arrow from your quiver and strung it on your bow.
You shot But he opened a portal where the arrow went in. In a few seconds you felt your right shoulder burn with pain and you realized that the arrow you had shot went through the portal and was now stuck in you.
You pulled the arrow out of your shoulder and kept running. You shot a series of arrows at the same time while moving so he couldn't use the same trick again.
Two arrows hit the target, one in his left thigh and the other in his arm.
You jumped from the building you were on to finally reach him But it was already too late when you entered a portal too.
It was quick and you fell on another building roof But the air was stinking and heavy. Disgusting.
You didn't understand anything But you still had the frustration of everything, of having been attacked by an arrow that you yourself shot, of having to patrol alone and that now you were in a stinking city.The sun was already rising when you finished temporarily healing your shoulder, you decided to explore and see where you were.
'The future of Gotham. WayneCorp'
You read the huge sign of one of the tallest buildings. Yoo knew this city was chaos, so much that even Flash avoided this city.
You brought your hand to grab your radio and called.
—"Oliver, I think I'm in Gotham".
But there was no one, you also tried to contact Dinah and even Roy. But it simply seemed there was no signal.
In a desperate attempt you tried to call the Justice League central. But it didn't work either. That left as last option to go visit Batman. You mentally prepared yourself, the man was an ice cube, cold and intelligent, you had already met him before on a mission.
You went down the building and walked among the people. Batman's team was quite large, but his city would always be chaos, robberies, poverty..... injustices of all kinds
A few years ago your parents wanted to come to Gotham to stop living in an apartment and buy a house, but you cried a lot because you didn't want to leave your friends at school. That's why you were still in crazy Star city being Speedy.
You were hungry and wanted to buy something to eat, so you approached a humble Hot Dogs stand, it was weird that these stands opened so early, But you were too hungry to judge them.
—"Good morning, four Hot Dogs please, with katsup."— you spoke, while taking out money and a little more.
You had always had a huge appetite that was almost insatiable, which had regularly led you to have many stomach aches after big binges.
The saleswoman along with her husband looked at you surprised and then began to make your order, you didn't know if it was because of your vigilante suit or your order.
While waiting you saw how a thief grabbed a pregnant woman's bag and started running.
The crime speed in this city was impressive.
You took an arrow from your quiver and strung your bow to then shoot, you hit giving him in his side, although of course, you didn't hurt him because the arrows only went through his clothes and immobilized him on the wall, he was lucky because he wore loose clothes.
It wasn't your city and you were afraid that by interfering you would earn Batman's hatred.
Once your order was ready you thanked the sellers with that tender smile that only you could give. You ate the first Hot Dog almost in three bites. Would it give you a stomach ache later? Yes. Did you regret eating like an idiot? No.
You were already on the second when you saw something that broke your heart, a mother and her daughter begging for alms or anything that could be given to them.
You sighed, you would be hungry again in a few minutes, but it was worth it if they could eat. You gave them your two intact hot dogs and then you left. It was already getting dark when you arrived at the wayne mansion, you had jumped the huge gate in such a clean way that you didn't even trigger the alarms that they surely had.
Would you have rung the doorbell like a normal person? Yes, but you had no time, you wanted to contact your master and that's it. You had literally gone through a portal and now you were on the other side of the country in the worst city that existed.
You ran to the main door, and knocked as if there was no tomorrow.
For you it was seconds but for the wayne it was minutes, Bruce had prepared to attack if necessary and Alfred opened the door cautiously.
You smiled shyly at the butler and he couldn't help being surprised.....
It was YOU...Alive... And a little older but it was you.
—"sir.....you won't believe it"
You got a little confused when Bruce Wayne came out and looked at you. He looked surprised and overwhelmed by the situation.
Meanwhile Bruce had so much on his mind, it was you, his lost baby. It had been almost four years since he last saw you alive, but you were here.
And he would never let you go again.
—"mm.....Mr Wayne, sorry if I caused panic by knocking the door like that. But something happened....I fought against a villain and...
But he wasn't listening to you, Bruce looked at you, analyzed. Clearly you were not from this world or at least not from this dimension. You were you, yes. But you had a Speedy suit, you also didn't have the scar on your neck which you had gotten the first night you were his Robin.
—"I couldn't contact Oliver, nor Dinah, nor the justice league central.....I was wondering if-
—"come in"— he interrupted you and then let you into the mansion.
Bruce felt happy and angry. Lately there were several cases of people who met a version identical to them that seemed to come from another universe. But you, you came from a universe where you were the partner of the idiot Oliver Queen and not his. You were his daughter, his princess. But this opportunity to have you again had come to him and he would not let it go.
The memory of hugging your dead body came to his mind making him shiver.
—"are you hungry?"— Bruce spoke, noticing how tense you were and he knew that food was your safe place, after all you burned calories fast because of all the movement you did in the day.
—"yes mr bat....Ups!. Sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect you."
Bruce did not answer at that very moment, his heart was completely melted. You were as adorable as the day he met you for the first time.
You, for your part, were beginning to feel that the situation was more than disconcerting.
—"You can stay the time you need"— said Bruce, interrupting your thoughts, as if he read your mind. —"You are at home."
A warm feeling ran through you when hearing his words. You didn't know if you should accept that offer or run away, but something in his tone made you feel that maybe... maybe it was worth staying a little longer. In your world, there wasn't much left to do anymore.
—"Can I... rest here for a while?"— You asked, looking at your hands, feeling the discomfort of being so vulnerable, but also the relief of being away from the streets of Gotham.
—"Of course."— Bruce nodded without hesitation. —"I'll take you to the kitchen. We'll prepare something for you."
The fact that he offered you food made you feel an unexpected relief, since your stomach was still hurting from the accumulated hunger during the day.
He guided you through the mansion, which seemed even bigger than you remembered. The elegant decoration, the feeling of luxury... Everything was so different from what you had known in your previous life. Although Gotham was the darkest place you had visited, this place was the complete opposite: warm, silent, and without the noise of the chaos of the city.
While they served you, Bruce's face showed a mixture of emotion and bewilderment, although he tried to keep his composure. He sat in front of you, observing you in silence while you ate, his eyes did not stop studying every detail of your face, as if trying to unravel all the mysteries you kept.
Suddenly an idea crossed his mind. You were not here just by accident, you had not just arrived through a portal. You were here because destiny had wanted it that way.
—"you're going to stay, right?"— he asked, his tone serious and grave.
—"Eh? For dessert? Yes, of course."— you barely managed to speak with your mouth full.
Bruce smiled a little, a smile that made you feel a little weird. It didn't look anything like the Bruce Wayne that Oliver always complained about.
—"I don't exactly know how I got here"— You started —"Something went wrong when I chased a guy who was doing something weird with portals, and suddenly, I fell here. I don't know how, but... well, I couldn't communicate with anyone, and after everything that happened, I came here. I don't know what else to do."
However, Bruce watched how you ate, remembering the little Robin he had trained. He noticed you different, a little more mature, but something was still just as sweet and adorable.
And deep down, he couldn't help thinking that maybe this was destiny, the opportunity to fix what he had lost.
—"would you like some juice?"
You looked at him surprised, you were telling him how you arrived and that you wanted to leave. But he went off on tangents, but you couldn't refuse.
Alfred brought you the juice and you drank it without feeling the taste of the pills that had dissolved.
—"I'll call Oliver tomorrow, right now he must be busy. A few hours ago I called him and he said he had a gala to attend all night".
At that moment you were too dizzy to know that he lied.
—"I feel weird..."
If only you had seen the smile that Bruce gave you.....
He tenderly accompanied you to a room. The room he had prepared in case you ever came back.
And so you did.
He watched you sleep, for two hours straight, until Damian entered too and looked at you, Bruce was lying next to you while you slept peacefully. Damian curiously grabbed the bow and arrow that you had carelessly left before fainting on the bed. Bruce really didn't pay much attention to him, not when he had YOU. But he also wouldn't let him steal it from you.
You woke up at noon, you felt dizzy and if it weren't because you trusted Bruce you would think they had drugged you.
Naive girl.
You got up from the comfortable bed staggering a little, you made the bed and explored the room a little, it was decorated in a way that you loved. But then you saw a frame with a photo, it was you, when you were a little younger, in the photo there was also Bruce and other boys.
You didn't remember having taken that selfie.
Something was wrong.
Tim was watching you from the door frame, maybe you were so distracted that you didn't look at him or you were simply still drugged, But it was great to see you again.
—"you're awake".
You jumped when he spoke to you, you dropped the photo which fell to the floor and the glass broke. You worried, But still, no Wayne would care.
They had you now, a simple photo no longer mattered.
You apologized clumsily , Tim just grabbed you by the shoulders and moved you away from the broken glass saying that breakfast was already ready. Once at the table a generous amount of food awaited you.
—"I'm glad you slept well. I would like to introduce you to two of my sons here present, Damian and Timothy."— Bruce spoke, still he knew that you had found out something, that you had seen something and now you distrusted.
—"What is that photo that was in the room where I slept?, I don't remember having taken it, nor knowing them before."
Silence reigned for several seconds, Bruce sighed and got up from his seat, you did the same But you backed away when he approached.
—"Have you ever heard of the multiverse? Well, of course you have..."
Bruce's words fell like a sledgehammer. Your mind stopped, as if the whole world had frozen for a moment. Multiverse? You had heard Oliver mention crazy theories of the League about parallel universes, but you always thought they were tales of bored scientists. Now, those words resonated in your head, connecting every strange detail: the city darker than you remembered, the lack of signal in your radio, Bruce's gaze, as if he knew you from a life that was not yours.
Your breathing accelerated. You were not in your world. You were not at home. Oliver, Dinah, Roy... everyone was out of your reach, trapped in another universe. A wave of panic ran through you, and your hands trembled as you squeezed the edge of the table so as not to fall.
—"That means I won't be able to contact my Oliver..."— you whispered, more to yourself than to them. Your voice broke, and the weight of the truth crushed you.
—"You knew... Why did you lie to me?"
The Wayne watched you in silence. Bruce took a step toward you, but you instinctively backed away, your heart beating hard. You didn't trust him, not after that look you couldn't decipher: a mixture of relief and something darker, something that made you want to run.
—"get away from me- you told him.
He bit his lip and ignored your request.
—"we lost you once, we couldn't do it again."
You pushed him and backed away.
—"you're crazy, mr wayne."— you let out a small laugh —"whatever, I'll find the solution on my own"
You went up to the room, you knew they were following you, quickly you grabbed your quiver and your bow. You pointed directly at the batman's head.
—"you don't want to do this Y/N..."
You shook your head and shot millimeters from his face, you could see the blood running down his cheekbone from the small cut. But quickly you lost all the air and dropped your bow along with your quiver, Damian had given you a kick in the stomach so hard that you couldn't help vomiting.
—"you're an ungrateful fucking bitch!"— Damian growled while stepping on your back so you wouldn't get up from the floor.
—"Damian, language"
The boy just hissed and walked away a few steps.
Bruce helped you up, your stomach hurt so much and you were desperately trying to breathe again so you couldn't even try to fight.
He took you to the bed and left you there while he began to untie your boots. When he did he continued and unfastened your suit, your tight suit leaving you in a tight thermal shirt that you always you used underneath. You tried to fight when he started taking off the rest of your protections and equipment that you used like some explosives or devices to customize arrows, also your small crossbow that you used on the wrist. He put his hand on your chest and pressed so that you stay on the bed and not fight so much.
But you fought, you fought so much. You wanted to scratch him But your gloves had no edge and only made friction on his face and spreading the blood from the small cut on his cheekbone. He grabbed both your wrists and immobilized them over your chest before you could try to hurt his eyes.
—"stay still Y/N... I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to have to break any bone or hit you."
Your eyes met Bruce's, and for an instant, the world stopped. His blue eyes, cold as ice, were full of something you couldn't decipher: pain, regret, obsession? For a second, his grip on your wrists loosened, as if he feared breaking you, as if the idea of hurting you paralyzed him. It was a crack in his armor, a vulnerability you didn't expect from the man everyone called the Dark Knight.
But you were not his prisoner. You were not the girl he thought you were. With a cry of effort, you took advantage of that instant of doubt and kicked with all your strength, hitting his chest
Bruce tried to grab you and you gave him a headbutt and then you thought for a moment that you could also prick him with the sedative of the ring. But he grabbed you by the arm and threw you to the other side of the room, you fell on the furniture full of toys and stuffed animals, your bow was close so you could only stretch a little and grab it before he approached you. Quickly you shot him three times, one fell on his shoulder, the second only grazed his arm and the third went through the bed canopy.
You didn't even look at him a second time and ran through the mansion. You fell to the floor when your feet were tied by an artifact that someone had thrown at you.
You turned, with your heart beating so hard it seemed to want to get out of your chest, and you met Nightwing. But it was not the Nightwing you knew, the charismatic leader of the Titans who always had a joke ready to relieve tension. This Nightwing had a crooked smile, a look that mixed fun and threat, as if he enjoyed seeing you trapped.
—"Come on, princess, don't leave before dinner"— he said, his voice soft but loaded with venom.
—"You wouldn't like Alfred to get upset and take out his shotgun, right? Although, thinking about it, a wound would make you... cuter. Imagine how cute you would look, dizzy from the painkillers, depending on us for everything."
His words chilled your blood. Who was this guy? The Nightwing you knew would never speak like that, would never look at you as if you were prey. Your mind filled with images of Star City, of the nights patrolling with Oliver, of the security of knowing that someone always covered your back. But here, in this mansion, you were alone against a family that seemed willing to do anything to retain you.
With a quick movement, you took out two arrows and shot, aiming at his chest. But Nightwing was fast, too fast. He dodged the arrows with an almost inhuman grace and threw one of his escrima sticks. The impact broke your bow in two, and the sound of metal hitting the floor resonated like an echo of your own defeat. Before you could react, he was on you, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you with a force you could not resist. While untying your feet, his smile did not disappear, and that was what scared you the most.
He approached and grabbed you by the ankles to bring you closer to him and untie your feet. You grabbed the escrima baton that he threw at you and electrocuted him with it until he fell next to you. You untied your ankles yourself and then went down, you no longer had your bow But you did have a broken arrow that you could use as a knife.
You looked door to door trying to find something, Tim was in his bed with his notebook and noise-canceling headphones. You greeted him and he imitated it to return to what he was doing, the poor guy seemed so tired that he didn't even realize what was happening.
With the stealth you tried to have you went down the stairs, But a huge pain made you fall down the stairs intensifying the pain from the fall and the pains of these.
When you fell on the stairs landing you could see who shot you, because yes, that was a shot. Your side was bleeding, it hurt more than it should.
Then some steps slowly descended the stairs, heavy and strong steps.
—"a little more and you made it... But it's okay, your favorite brother arrived to save the day and prevent you from leaving again"— he laughed and then kept his weapon —"Look what you made me do, little bird"— he murmured, with a false tone of reproach. —"You could have broken your neck in that fall. And then, who would return to Bruce his prodigy" daughter?"
You grunted in disgust, in pain. The son of a bitch shot you and the pain was unbearable. You had heard
You tried to crawl, grab the broken arrow that you had kept and that had fallen from your hands when they shot you, but he stepped on your hand with his boot, making you scream in pain.
—"None of that, little bird"— he murmured, taking out a cloth and pressing it hard on your wound. —"it hurts me more than you, you were my favorite little sister. I really missed you..."
You grunted when he changed your position and then lifted your clothes to check the wound, he whistled when seeing your wound.
—"couldn't you immobilize her instead of shooting her?"— Bruce's voice was heard, you were so dizzy that you couldn't even see one side, your eyes wanted to close.
Bruce carried you and it was the last thing you saw...
I hope you're all doing well. This is the second part of one of the first stories I uploaded to Tumblr. I'll be going on vacation very soon, and I hope to be able to upload stories and content more frequently.
I also want to thank you all for your support. Seriously, thank you so much.
I also have an AO3 account where I upload slightly more mature content: ILove_you_99
You also start to have a list of tags, I'll bring part 3 very soon.
Credits to the respective author, if you know who it is, tell me so I can mention it.
TW: Dark themes, mention of unethical genetic experimentation, mention of the loss of a child and a spouse, trauma, unhealthy obsession, emotional manipulation, kidnapping, physical violence, suffocation, suicide attempt, toxic and abusive relationships, alcohol use as coping, psychological manipulation, characters with morally gray and villainous traits. English Isn't My First Language.
___________________________________________
Damian had always known the way he was born and the way his life would be.
Training after training, every blow, every wound. He knew many languages, cultures, history, countless martial arts techniques.
But he couldn't get the night he read some notes in the old and abandoned laboratory of the league of assassins out of his head.
Since Damian discovered that there was a third party in the equation of his birth, nothing was the same for him. He had read the files, the notes and even found a small research diary where the scientist who "created" him spoke of him with so much affection. That scientist was you, Y/N L/N, Damian had seen several photos of you with his mother.
Damian felt loved in a way, the way you wrote about him was so beautiful, even though you called him "fetus" you were quite affectionate. He also saw your other notes about your other experiments. He noticed that love and care with which you spoke of them.
And he soon became obsessed.
It wasn't immediate, but something that grew over time, with every word read, with every photo found. In his mind, you were the only one who had really cared about him even before he was born. Not his mother, who used him as a weapon. Not his father, who took too long to acknowledge him. You.
He spent months collecting information, tying up loose ends, observing every record you left behind as if they were sacred texts. And when he finally found your location, he felt something like relief.
===========
Almost 13 years had passed since you managed to escape from Talia.
So many things had happened since Batman and you made a deal. Where for some reason he didn't break your face (and you were grateful), But he told you that if you could change, you were smart, yes. But you were like a baby with the capacity to destroy the world.
Batman made you see it and told you how you could help to pay your debt to the city without going to jail.
Nowadays you were an adult woman, your father had died 5 years ago and now you were the head of the company.
A company that was expanding more and more, But you never forgot the debt you had with society. You made donations to hospitals, schools, refugee centers.
9 years ago you had tried to start a family, get married and have children. But fate was so cruel. It forbade you from being happy: it killed your husband and made you lose the baby. The car accident was grotesque but you survived miraculously.
They were years of pain before you could go out again without feeling bad. You soon refocused on your work, on your projects, on the debt you felt with the world. You tried to fill the void with achievements, with more donations, with research... but the pain never completely disappeared. You just learned to ignore it and to look for answers at the bottom of bottles of alcohol and eccentric parties.
Sometimes you wondered if it was a punishment for everything you did in the League of Assassins. For all the lives you helped create... and destroy.
But what you didn't know was that a shadow had been watching you for a long time. That a pair of green eyes analyzed every one of your movements, every step you took, every person you interacted with.
That night, when you returned home after a meeting, you felt a strange sensation in the air. A presence.
You were definitely not alone.
—"Do not scream"— said a deep, youthful voice from the darkness of your study.
You turned slowly, with your heart racing, and saw him.
—"You... "— you whispered.
—"So you recognize me"— he said with a barely visible smile. —"That saves me the introductions."
You didn't need him to introduce himself. You knew perfectly well who he was.
The boy you created for the Al Ghuls.
Your most perfect experiment.
Your son, in a sense.
And by the look on his face, by the intensity in his eyes, you knew he felt that way too.
You looked closely at the boy in front of you. You couldn't deny it, he was adorable, with those delicate features but full of determination.
By instinct, you looked around, looking for any sign of Talia. You had nothing against the boy, but his mother was another matter. If she was nearby, this could end very badly for you.
—"Are you alone?"— you asked in a firm voice, without taking your eyes off him.
Damian tilted his head, almost amused by your distrust.
—"And what would that change?"— he replied, taking a step forward.
You didn't answer. Your fingers tensed at your sides, ready for anything.
He noticed and smiled slightly.
—"Relax, She is not here. I came alone."
You didn't know whether to feel relief or worry more.
—"How did you find me?"
—"It wasn't difficult"— he said disdainfully. —"for someone so innovative you leave a lot of clues."
That bothered you a little. You had made sure to erase every connection to your past, or so you thought.
The boy took another step, with the confidence of someone who was exactly where he wanted to be.
—"I knew you existed"— he continued. —"But I didn't know who you really were until I found the documents."
He stopped in front of you, raising his head to look directly into your eyes.
—"You were responsible for my creation, I came to meet you. But now that I see you, I want you to also be part of my life."
There was something strange in his voice. It was definitely not the voice of an innocent child But you couldn't treat him like a monster.
You clearly didn't know him, you didn't know what the little demon was thinking and you only judged him by his appearance as a child.
He was a child after all.
But if only you knew....
But you wanted to do things right. If Talia wasn't nearby that meant you could get close to your "son".
For you it was no secret Batman's identity, and talking to him wouldn't be so complicated either, But first you had to take the child back to his home.
You had to take Damian in your car to return to Gotham since you did not know the means by which he arrived at your location. But the damn kid wouldn't stop complaining about everything.
—"drive faster, the road is empty"
— "I'm hungry"
—"the sandwich from that service station is disgusting"
—"we don't need to stay overnight,I can drive"
They were the worst hours of your life, until they reached Gotham which wasn't so bad during the day.
Or so you hoped.
You stopped at a traffic light and screamed when a man jumped on your hood to escape from the police.
—"that doesn't happen every day. Right?"— you whispered as you turned to look at him. You didn't remember the city being like this.
You almost melted, he was exhausted But fighting not to fall asleep and that gave a tender image, it was like a grumpy cat that had lowered its guard and was closing its eyes little by little. Passing through the city was an odyssey, and they even stole your car's mirrors. It wasn't that hard to get to Wayne Manor, you had done it once before when you closed the deal with Bruce.
The doors opened and you entered with the car, you had the feeling that someone was going to get scolded. Maybe Damian since you doubted they had let him go alone. But still there was a slight discomfort in your chest.
But you shouldn't be afraid, you had done your part of the deal, right?. You hadn't played god since that day, your record was clean and you hadn't heard from Talia in years.
When you got out of the car you were greeted by the butler.
Bruce's office was as cold as the whole mansion. He was too, his playboy billionaire mask didn't work in his mansion and even less with someone like you who already knew his true being.
—"you knew for a long time, why now?"— he spoke.
—"I don't know why I didn't tell you before"— you began to explain —"But that boy came to me, he looked for me. How can I refuse?"
Bruce watched you in silence, as if analyzing every word, every breath, every deviation of your eyes. He knew you were not an ordinary woman. He knew you were dangerous. But he also knew you were human. A broken human, but with potential. That's why he had given you that opportunity years ago. Because despite everything, you had chosen not to keep destroying.
—"Damian is not a doll"— he said in a low, but firm voice —"and he is not a form of redemption."
You knew it. Of course you knew it. But that night, when his little fingers clung to your coat in the car while he slept, so similar to a normal child, you thought that maybe... maybe you could do something right for once.
—"I don't want redemption"— you lied. Because of course you wanted it. You just didn't know what it looked like.
—"What do you want then?"— Bruce asked.
You didn't answer. You couldn't. Because the answer fell apart in your throat before you could formulate it. What did you want? Forgiveness? A son? Peace? The illusion of a family you never had? Someone to look at you with affection without knowing how many people you helped to mold and destroy?
Bruce sighed. He no longer had patience for games, not with you.
—"If you have ulterior motives, I will take you out of his life. I will not hesitate."
You nodded. You expected no less.
Damian listened behind the door, he had a twisted happiness, his "mother" had fallen into the trap and he just had to keep making puppy eyes.
This damn kid knew how to manipulate you correctly. Now that you had fallen, all that was left was to follow the plan.
You had heard about therapies with children or reborn dolls for women who lost their children, you never believed in that. You came from a family of innovative scientists and researchers, it was obvious that your pride was through the roof and you thought you were a superior being, not a mortal who needed therapy -because yes, you needed it, But you would never accept it-. Damian was adorable or so you saw, you let yourself be easily carried away by appearances and the emotions of the moment.
That same thing happened to you with Talia, you had let yourself be carried away, you had tempted her and you had lived in fear. A fear that you still remembered vividly.
You had taken Damian on trips, museums, exclusive demonstrations. You had given him an obsidian katana, you had allowed him to have a rabbit -which was called Maximus- which you took care of since although it was Damian's pet, the damn rabbit lived with you 24 hours a day, the worst thing was that when you traveled you had to take it with you or pay a nanny for the rabbit.
Your phone rang
—"Where are you? You promised you would take me to the museum."
You swallowed saliva when you knew you were late.
Lately you weren't entirely attentive, there was too much movement since you moved to Gotham and opened another branch. You felt like a saint, the newspapers saying you saved Gotham by offering well-paid jobs fed your ego. But you were really busy and you hated that.
But it would only be the beginning, then you would travel again to Europe to have the beauty and care treatments that you liked so much.
In a way that was what worried you the most, you worried about aging and having wrinkles, you were a scientist, yes. But you would not experiment on yourself. You would have liked to have a painting that would age for you. (reference my beloved Dorian Gray)
"I'm waiting at the school entrance. Take the tunnel shortcut, I'm freezing out here."
It was another message you received while driving the car. You took the shortcut and went through a tunnel, But halfway through the tunnel a cargo truck in front of you stopped so you also had to brake almost suddenly, you were grateful for having been wearing a seat belt But you felt the burn from the friction when you braked sharply. You gasped and then lay down on the seat and got out of the car to complain like the spoiled bitch you were.
As soon as you opened the car you heard the van doors open and people dressed in black and with swords came out.
You were screwed (and not in the way you would like).
You tried to run But they quickly grabbed you and pushed you into the van. The space smelled of fresh meat and the half carcasses were still hanging from the ceiling and the floor had blood from the animal meat that was still dripping. You tried to get up But they punched you in the nose that made you fall to the ground again, grab your nose and try not to swallow the blood that was now coming out everywhere.
You heard footsteps. Heels that definitely didn't match the environment.
Then you saw her.
The elegant silhouette of a woman among the armed bodies. Tall, impeccable, with a dark coat and perfectly styled hair. You didn't need to see her completely to know who she was.
Talia al Ghul.
You remained motionless on the floor, breathing through your mouth. Not out of fear. Because of the broken nose.
—"Look what they have done to you..."— she murmured in a soft voice, almost maternal, as she crouched in front of you. She took your chin with a delicacy that hurt more than any blow —"I would have been much more careful."
You turned your face away and looked at her, you hated her, she had taken from you what you could have loved: your family.
Accidents didn't happen just because and that was something you knew very well.
—"it seems you have already met our adorable boy."— she sang with a smile.
—"don't bring Damian into this. Bitch!"
She just laughed, she couldn't be bothered with you.
—"that damn tongue moving again.....how I missed it".
You growled a little, you really hated this woman, because it disgusted you how she had taken advantage of you when you were barely of legal age.
—"inject me with something.
—"what? she asked with a mocking smile.
—"make me sleep, drug me or knock me out. I don't want to be awake the whole trip.
She looked at you with superiority, it amused her that a simple human (although deep down you were not a simple human to Talia) wanted to give her orders.
She leaned in a little.
—"normally I kill deserters, But killing you would only be giving you mercy. And I do not give mercy to anyone who has abandoned me.
You let out a small moan when her hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed your trachea.
—"You are a fucking bitch...."—you said with difficulty.
—"and you are an idiot who thought you could have some peace. I'm going to destroy you. I'm going to help you realize that no one ever loved you as much as I did."
You could no longer pronounce words, you were about to faint. The van parked, someone else entered.
—"You shouldn't treat her like that"— sounded the voice of who in a way was your son.
Talia released you and looked at her heir with disdain.
—"Do you feel sorry for her now? She abandoned you, she brought you into this world and abandoned you Do you think someone like her deserves mercy?.......being with your father has softened you too much."
—"I haven't softened..."
You got up quickly and ran towards Talia's weapon which was on her thigh. She turned when she heard you release the safety and you were aiming directly at her face. You heard Talia laugh out loud when you tried to shoot and the bullet didn't come out.
—"Did you really think I wouldn't check things near you? Killing me won't give you the peace you seek, sweetie. It will only make you become what you always wanted to avoid: a murderer. Do you really want our little heir to see you like that?"
Heir.
That word made you look at Damian.
You dropped the weapon and began to sob. This time there was no way out. Talia now had a weapon against you and she would use it whenever she wanted, there was nothing left to do and you knew it. She leaned towards you and stroked you with her long, well-manicured nails.
—"don't be so pathetic, not at least in front of our son. I can't believe all these years you have softened...What happened to the woman who was hungry for power and was not afraid to play god? I still remember the first fetus you made... It didn't survive a week, you threw it away and made another one."
Then you remembered, your first job in the league, you had done it one night when you had wanted to make Talia happy, it was a mix between a lizard and a fish. But you had done it so badly that the "life" you created was just a breathing amorphous mass. At that time you felt nothing for it, But now you thought about it all the time and you realized how psychopathic you were as a young woman before your pink rich girl bubble burst.
The trip to Nanda Parbat was shorter than you would have liked, they had to knock you out after you tried to cut your throat with one of the servant's daggers (a servant who would be flayed alive later). You woke up in a large bed, with blankets much more expensive than those in your mansion. There were no windows, but a dim golden light filtered from some oil lamp, projecting dancing shadows on the stone walls. You felt your face numb and the nasal splint they had put on you.
The door opened without a sound.
Talia was there, leaning against the frame, in a black dress that blended into the gloom. Her smile was slow, calculating, as if she enjoyed every second of your discomfort.
—"You look well rested"— she murmured, moving towards you with those feline movements that had always disturbed you. —"Although I prefer it when you fight. It's more fun."— she sat on your stomach and tied your hands to the bed.
You didn't answer. You knew that any word would be used against you -not to mention that you were still very dizzy-. Instead, you watched her hands, looking for weapons, but they were empty. She only wore that silver ring with the symbol of the League.
—"Damian is impatient to see you"— she said, stopping at the edge of your shirt. Her voice was soft, almost maternal, but her eyes shone with something darker. —"He spent years reading your notes, you know? I think he loves you more than he ever loved me."
The comment was a knife twisting in a wound you didn't even know you had.
—"You didn't bring me here to play happy families"— you replied, trying to keep your voice from betraying the tremor of fear.
Talia laughed, lowering herself until she was at your height. Her breath smelled of mint tea and something more bitter.
—"No. I brought you here because you are mine."— Her fingers closed around your wrist, where a tracking chip had once been implanted that you managed to have removed years ago. —"And because Damian... well, he has plans for you"
She leaned closer, until her lips brushed your ear.
—"But nothing as bad as what I will do to you."
A shiver ran down your spine as she unbuttoned your expensive shirt that was now dirty and with blood that had been from your nose.....
===================
Yes, I know I've been gone longer than I should have.
BUT I'M BACK!
Well, as always, your likes are welcome, and please reblog too. It would help me a lot.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
Tw: Kidnapping/Forced Detention, Physical and Psychological Violence, Obsession/Yandere Behavior, Emotional Coercion, Depersonalization/Harassment, Invasion of Privacy, Disturbing Language, Intense Psychological Content, Non-Consensual Relationship/Abuse of Power
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Okay, where do I start?
The first time you saw Piers was on your first day. You'd been assigned to Alpha Team, and the first impression you received was one that made you shiver.
Everyone on the team was male, big and strong, and they trained hard.
You were a small girl, formerly part of Gamma Team, which perished after a mission in the Lofoten Islands. You, the gunner, and the pilot had barely survived, and the one who got you out of there had been the only survivors. The BSAA brass had given you the choice since there were several other teams in the BSAA who wanted you. You were a combat medic, specializing in performing surgeries or advanced battlefield treatment.
But damn, you were a miserable, pathetic piece of shit compared to the others on Alpha Team, and while you were in shape, strength and raw combat weren't your thing. You looked ridiculous when you couldn't even perform training exercises.
—"Just in time, soldier"— Chris Redfield greeted, approaching you.
From that day on, you were part of the BSAA.
Chris was able to tailor the exercises and workouts to your needs and your muscle mass. You were a mouse who was given a bolt and nut and told that those would be his weights.
Piers didn't like it very much. You were a girl. It's not that Piers is a misogynist; he was raised by the women of his house since the men were focused on their military careers.
He had also seen what women were capable of. Merah, Claire, and Jill were prime examples. Agile, fast.
But according to him, you weren't cut out for this, and if you survived in Lofoten, it was by a miracle. After all, you were a combat medic. Not a gunner, not a sapper, no.
You were practically just a doctor who knew how to shoot.
Or at least that's what he said. Even though he'd seen what you were capable of, he kept telling you to stay behind because if they killed you, the entire team would be in danger without their medic. He didn't trust you; you didn't see yourself as a soldier. You saw yourself as a secretary or a woman with a light, feminine job like a job at a beauty salon or a social media influencer.
You were attractive and didn't mind acting like a girl; he'd grown accustomed to strong, somewhat masculine women.
You reminded him of the traitor Jessica Sherawat.
All that changed when, on an outing after a mission, you were both very drunk and strangely happy with the atmosphere.
You had gone out as a group, but everyone had already split up or gone home.
But you and your lieutenant ended up fucking in the bathroom of that bar. After that, Piers wanted more and more.
Maybe he didn't notice, maybe he didn't want to notice. But you were uncomfortable with him.
You didn't want attention, and if you did it with him, it was because you thought there wouldn't be any consequences (not to mention a possible pregnancy or a sexually transmitted disease, you should have thought things through).
Piers hates a lot of things, and one of the things he hated most was not having what he wanted.
That was you.
Soon, he started showering you with gifts and attention. You were brave enough to tell him you didn't reciprocate his feelings. But that wasn't enough.
He could be intense when he wanted; life was too short to go without what he wanted. Entering your house was too easy for someone like him.
It was his private sanctuary: smelling your perfume between the sheets, sinking into your bed, letting the residual warmth your body had left envelop him. Your cat purred in his hands as his gaze wandered to your half-open closet, where your clothes waited as if they were his too.
It was definitely a good idea to tell Captain Redfield to have you teach the new recruits first aid classes. You were barely home anymore, which meant Piers could see you every day and your house felt empty.
Your makeup was neatly organized, the kitchen cupboards were full and organized.
The refrigerator was also full and tidy. You were vegan, so your kitchen practically smelled of soy.
He walked into the bathroom; your shower towel was neatly folded and hanging next to the shower. He couldn't help but grab it and smell it.
It smelled like you, and it drove him crazy.
He didn't just want you to be his girlfriend anymore; he wanted you to marry him, raise children together, grow old together, and, if possible, die together, since he couldn't bear to be without you. The towel was still in his hands, barely damp from the last shower you'd taken before leaving. Piers held it against his face, closing his eyes with an expression of false peace, as if the scent could stop the storm inside him.
He didn't understand why you were avoiding him.
You had agreed to sleep with him, hadn't you? So why were you acting like it meant nothing? As if it hadn't ignited something irremediable inside him. Piers wasn't an idiot. He knew that for you, it had been a stupid, drunken escape after a difficult mission, a bad decision you'd buried under layers of work and escape.
But he hadn't forgotten.
He couldn't forget it.
Ever since that night in the bar bathroom, where you'd moaned his name while your nails left marks on the back of his neck, he'd decided you'd be his. Not on a whim. By fate.
He watched you teach the new guys. You smiled at the recruits, with that natural sweetness that made his blood boil. Not because you smiled, but because he knew that smile wasn't for him. It never was. And that sickened him.
You couldn't keep acting like nothing had happened.
You'd played with fire.
Piers had started collecting little bits of you: your comb with hair caught between its teeth, a T-shirt you left in the locker room, an eyeliner that mysteriously disappeared from your bag.
He kept it all in a metal box that he hid in his room like a sick teenager.
—"You're forcing me, you know?"— he whispered softly as he sat on the edge of your bed. The cat jumped onto his legs fearlessly, purring as if it recognized him.
He smiled, petting him affectionately. Animals always knew who to be with.
—"She'll understand, too. She'll understand that I do it out of love."
That night, he didn't leave your apartment until very late. He carefully locked everything, wiped off his fingerprints, folded the towel back the way it was before, and left through the balcony the same way he'd come in.
The days became strange. He would get too close to you at the slightest excuse. You could swear he smelled your hair. It wasn't long before he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his head next to yours. Sometimes he kissed the top of your head before moving away. You tried to distance yourself; you didn't dare say anything to him. He was your superior and the next captain of Alpha Team, since Chris would be retiring soon.
-------
—"Hey Y/N... Would you like to go get coffee with me?"
You were shivering from the cold that night, having just returned from a mission where more than a third of the team had died.
You didn't want to drink anything hot; you wanted to cry for losing your friends.
—"No... I really appreciate it. But... I just want to go home"— you murmured.
He smiled.
—"Let me take you then. Tell me where it is."
You sighed and nodded. Your car was still under repair after someone put sugar in the fuel tank.
You were very cold, and Piers's car was the perfect temperature. He fastened your seatbelt. You didn't say anything, but it was quite tight. The ride was silent. It wasn't because he wasn't talking (because yes, he talked to you the whole way, but it was you who wasn't paying attention). You preferred to stay silent and close your eyes.
You got ready to get out when you saw that the street they were passing was familiar.
—"I like you, you know? I always liked you. I didn't like you before, but I couldn't help but fall at your feet."— He laughed a little before continuing. You could feel the car speeding up; it was obvious he wasn't going to let you out.
—"Piers... Where are you taking me?"— you asked, your voice still trembling, your fingers gripping the door handle, even though you knew he had activated the child safety lock.
Piers looked away from the road for just a second to look at you. His smile was soft, almost tender.
—“Somewhere where we can talk without interruptions. Today was a really hard day for you, Y/N. You need a distraction… and so do I.”
The car’s engine roared beneath Piers’s feet, getting faster and faster. The speedometer was reading over 100 km/h even though there was almost no traffic. The city lights became blurry lines through the window.
—“Piers, I want to go home. Now”— you said more firmly, feeling terror rise in your throat.
He sighed.
—“Don’t say that… Not when all I want is to take care of you.”
His hand left the wheel for a second to rest on your thigh. You shuddered at the warmth of his palm. It was a possessive touch, so gentle it hurt.
—“Stop acting like you don't have feelings for me, Y/N. I know what you felt that night. Don't pretend. Every time you tell me you don't want to see me, I don't believe you… your body was telling me something else. Do you remember how you kissed me? How you moaned my name…”— His voice grew darker, huskier.
You swallowed, holding back tears.
—“I was drunk, Piers… I don't want that with you. I don't want this…”
Piers was silent for a few seconds, his jaw clenched. He swerved, pulling off the main avenue and onto a nearly deserted road lined with trees. The pounding in your ears was deafening.
—“Don't say that, darling. You have no idea how bad it makes me feel to hear you talk like that.”
His hand tightened on your thigh.
—“Piers, stop the car. Now”— you demanded, your voice rising a little.
He gave a short, humorless laugh.
—“What for? So you can keep running away? So you can keep going on stupid missions just so you don’t have to talk to me, so you don’t have to look me in the eye. No, Y/N. Not anymore.”
The car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. The screech of the brakes echoed in the stillness of the night. The silence that followed was so thick it seemed to swallow the air.
Piers turned off the engine and turned to you. His eyes, barely lit by the dashboard, looked like two dark pools.
—“I… I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I don’t want you to be alone, not one more day. Do you know what it’s like to think someone could hurt you? That you could die out there, on any mission… and I’d be alone without you. I can’t, Y/N. I can’t.”
He leaned over you, his breath mingled with cologne and gunpowder. His forehead gently bumped against yours.
—“I want you with me. Always. I won't let you keep acting like nothing ever happened between us. I won't let you keep denying me.”
You tried to pull away, but he cupped your face with both hands. His grip wasn't violent, but you couldn't break away either.
—“Piers… please… let me go…”— you murmured, feeling your breath hitch.
Piers brushed his thumb over your cheek. His voice softened dangerously.
—“I swear I won't hurt you, Y/N. I just… need you to understand that this is right. For both of us.”
He kissed you. It was slow, almost sweet, but filled with an intensity that made you tremble. It tasted of desperation. Of obsession.
When he managed to pull away, his lips were mere millimeters from yours.
—“Do you know what would hurt me more than dying on the battlefield?”— he whispered, staring at you. —“If you told me you'd never love me.”
He stood up, taking a deep breath, as if gathering strength.
—“Don't make me do something I don't want to do, Y/N… I don't want to have to take you away for you to understand that you're mine.”
Tears began to trickle down your cheeks. You tried to open the door again, but it was still locked.
—“Piers… this isn't love. This is sick. Let me go.”
He slowly shook his head.
—“I'm not going to let you go. Not when I know we can be happy. Not when I know how good we feel together. I'll prove it to you, Y/N… I promise.”
And with that, he started the car again. As they drove deeper into the darkness, your heart pounded, caught between the cold of fear and the suffocating heat of his obsession.
You knew that what had started as a mistake in a bar bathroom was turning into your worst nightmare.
The road seemed to swallow them up, winding and dark, flanked by trees swaying in the night wind. The silence in the car was so thick that every small sound—the engine, your breathing—felt like a scream.
Piers didn't look back at you as he drove. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Every so often, he mumbled things to himself, broken phrases, impossible to understand.
—"I'm not going to lose you... I'm not going to lose you like the others..."— he finally whispered, his voice cracking.
—"Piers, please, put me down..."— you begged, trembling. —“We can talk tomorrow. Let me go home.”
He looked at you again, with that almost pained expression, as if you were the one hurting him.
—“You don’t understand… I can’t let you go home. Not if it means you’re going to keep avoiding me, looking at me like I’m a monster. I’m not a monster!”
—“No… you’re not…”— you lied, your voice so low you could barely hear yourself.
—“Don’t lie to me!”— he roared.
He slammed on the brakes again, this time on a dirt shoulder. The car stopped in a place so isolated that all you could hear were crickets and the wind whispering through the trees.
Piers turned off the engine and stood still, his breathing ragged. For a second, you were afraid he might hit you… but instead, he lowered his head and covered his eyes with his hand, as if he were holding back tears.
—“I don't want to hurt you, Y/N… I swear I don't…”— he said, his voice breaking.
Very gently, you placed your hand on his forearm.
—“Piers… I know. But this… this is wrong. I'm scared. Let me go. Please.”
He flinched at your touch. When he raised his face, his eyes were wet and red.
—“You don't understand… I… I come into your house because I need to feel that you're okay. I need to make sure that no one is going to hurt you!”— His words tumbled out. —“You leave things lying around… your cat cries if you're late coming back… How do you expect me to stay calm knowing that you could leave one day and never come back?”
He began to laugh, almost hysterically.
—“And look at me… I'm here, like a fucking psychopath, kidnapping you because I don't know how else to make you understand that I care about you!”
—“Piers… I care about you, but this isn't love…” you whispered, your throat tight.
He shook his head, faster and faster.
—“Yes, it is. Of course it is! Love is protecting the person you love. It's making sure no one else touches them, that no one can take them away from you. Why do you think I got in the way of your missions? Because I couldn't bear to see you die!”
He leaned toward you, his hands cupping your cheeks. You felt his hot breath, mixed with the metallic scent of his sweat.
—“You don't understand, Y/N… I'm going crazy without you. If you're not with me… why the fuck do I want to keep fighting?”
He kissed you again, harder this time. When you tried to pull away, he held you even tighter. His tongue forced its way between your lips. You moaned, not in pleasure, but in pure terror.
When he finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily.
—“Let's go to my apartment, okay? We can talk there. I'll make you something warm. Maybe… maybe a bath. You're always cold after missions.”
You shook your head, tears streaming freely down your face.
—“I don't want to… Piers… please…”
His gaze hardened.
—“Don't tell me no, Y/N. I'm being patient. Don't make me lose my patience.”
He leaned back in his seat, started the engine again, and began to turn the car around in the middle of the road.
—“You'll understand. Sooner or later. Because I… I'm not giving up on you.”
As the car sped off into the darkness again, a chill ran down your spine. You felt like, at some point, something in Piers was going to snap completely. And you feared that, when it did, there would be no escape.
You couldn't let Piers keep driving you. You didn't know if you'd ever see daylight again if you made it to his apartment.
So you took a deep breath. And made a decision.
When he slowed down to round a bend, you yanked open your seatbelt and lunged for the door. You tried to force it open, slamming your elbow into the latch.
—"Y/N!"— Piers yelled, letting go of the steering wheel to grab you.
You struggled, clawing at his face, trying to push him away. His fingers closed around your wrist so tightly you felt something crunch. You cried out in pain, but you kept fighting.
—"Let me go, Piers!"— you sobbed, punching him in the shoulder.
Piers stopped you with ease. His strength was overwhelming. He had the training, the muscle mass, the reflexes. You were fast, yes, but you were tired, emotionally wounded, and terrified.
—“Don’t fucking make me do this!”— he roared.
With a sudden movement, he grabbed both of your arms and shoved you back into the seat. The impact knocked the wind out of you.
He gave you barely a second to breathe before leaning over you again. He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks so you would look at him. His eyes were completely wild, glassy with tears.
—“Why are you doing this to me, Y/N?! I’m protecting you!”
—“You’re crazy, Piers!”— you screamed, your voice breaking. —“Let me go!”
He shook his head frantically.
—“Don’t say that! DON’T SAY THAT!”
You tried again to wriggle free, kicking him in the stomach. He groaned, but didn't let go. Instead, he held you tighter, so tight you felt the bone in your arm strain beneath his fingers.
—"Piers... you're hurting me..."— you whimpered, tears mixing with snot and saliva.
He didn't seem to hear you. He shook you violently.
—"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!"
And then it happened.
With a single blow of his hand, he slammed your head against the metal window frame. A dull sound echoed in your ears. Everything went fuzzy, blurry. The pain was like a white lightning bolt that cut off your consciousness.
You felt a warm liquid trickle down your temple. Your vision filled with black dots.
—"Shit... shit, shit, shit!"— you heard Piers' voice, as if coming from far away.
You felt him shaking your face, trying to keep you awake.
—"Don't go to sleep, Y/N! Fuck, don't do this to me!"
You wanted to respond, but all you managed was a small moan. Your body was limp, powerless. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.
Piers began to sob as he wiped the blood from your forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.
—"I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to hurt you... You made me..."
He lifted you easily, as if you were dead weight. He settled you on his lap, holding you against his chest as the car remained stopped on the side of the road. You could feel his tears falling onto your hair.
—“I'm going to take you home… to my house. I'm going to take care of you, okay? You're going to be okay… I swear you're going to be okay…”— he murmured between sobs.
You could barely keep your eyes open. The world was spinning, fragmented into light and shadow.
—“…help me… someone…”— you managed to whisper, almost inaudible.
Piers kissed your bloodied forehead.
—“Shhh… don't say anything, princess. No one's going to separate us.”
He started the car again, stepping on the accelerator. As the road sped away beneath the wheels, you felt your consciousness fade, swallowed by the dark pit of shock and pain.
The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was Piers's reflection in the rearview mirror, his gaze completely shattered, repeating to himself:
—“Everything's going to be okay… everything's going to be okay…”
Caution: Contains very explicit themes, 18+ content. Read with caution.
I warned you....
-----------
Dick turned on the lights in his apartment as soon as he got back from the patrol car. He smiled and went straight to his closet, taking off his suit and putting on comfortable pants and a soft t-shirt that were lying around.
When he opened the closet, he smiled even more at the sight of you.
You were trembling as you let out small gasps that were muffled by the silicone ball gag that was securely strapped to your face. You were blindfolded and wearing noise-cancelling headphones. You shivered when Dick yanked the headphones off.
—"Shhh... don't be scared, baby. Daddy's here"— he laughed as he picked you up and carried you to the living room.
You learned not to struggle. I knew that if you tried to fight against your bonds, the consequences would be worse. Any kind of struggle would be punished.
I placed you on the rug and stroked your head.
—"Be good today, Daddy's tired"— I whispered in your ear as I removed the blindfold.
The light burned your retinas; it had been more than 12 hours since he covered your eyes. He laughed when he saw you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to get used to it. He rubbed your eyes with his warm fingers. You moaned under the gag and tried to pull away. But you stayed still and just squeezed your eyelids shut.
—"Don't be like that, I'm just trying to help you... come on, open your eyes now."
You slowly began to open your eyes. The first thing you saw was the legs of the couch. He grabbed your jaw and turned your head so you could see them.
—"So pretty..."
He went to get something, and when he came back, he grabbed your shoulders and made you kneel. It was something he always did since you couldn't stand up on your own with your hands behind your back. He sat on the couch in front of you. While you were kneeling in front of him, he showed you the ring gag he wanted to put on you, and his hands went to the gag you had on.
You stepped back; you didn't want to have to use that uncomfortable gag again. The silicone gag you had was already uncomfortable, but the ring gag was even worse. You wouldn't let him change the gag.
—"Come on, be good and I'll feed you after this. I swear I'd like to feed you now, but I don't want you throwing up on me mid-blowjob."— He tried to remove the gag you had on; you moved away again.
Dick sighed and laughed. You swallowed, then started to cry. Anything to avoid the punishment that was coming.
—"You asked for it."
He grabbed you and laid you face down on his lap. He lifted your skirt and pulled down your panties. You felt him put moisturizer on his hands and then you felt him massaging the flesh of your buttocks.
You moaned through the gag and tried to move away. But he placed one of his hands on your lower back.
—"I was thinking of 20 spanks, but now it'll be 70... Enjoy them, you little bitch."
The first spank hurt like hell, the second was torture, the third made you cry, and the seventieth almost made you faint. Your ass was burning. You sobbed as Dick caressed your buttocks.
—"They look like two caramel apples. Do you feel more obedient?"
You didn't answer, so Dick spanked you to get a reaction out of you.
You nodded quickly, and he laughed. One of his fingers went to your wet pussy and removed the vibrators you'd been wearing and torturing you all day.
—"Looks like you had a good day. It's my turn now, right?"
He left you kneeling on the floor in front of him, trembling with fear, color, and cold. He removed the gag and wiped the snot from your nose with a paper napkin.
—"Open up"— his voice sounded different. You opened your mouth and let him put the ring gag on you.—"Perfect."
Dick leaned down and kissed you, dipped his tongue into the hole of the ring gag, and touched the stump of your tongue with his own. When he pulled away, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his penis. He grabbed the back of your neck to pull you closer, and lightly tapped your cheek with his member.
—"You'll be able to do it all, and you'll do it right."
That wasn't a question; it was a statement and an order.
His cock entered your mouth, filling it immediately. You choked when it touched your throat. He could only moan and relax on the couch as he pressed your head harder onto his member.
—"I just want to rest. Finish quickly, and we'll have dinner"— he said between gasps.
For minutes, you were only distracted as he used your mouth and throat. You felt him stop gripping the back of your neck and grab a handful of your hair, which he did slowly. He loved watching you the whole time, and you knew if you didn't, the consequences would be even worse.
When he ejaculated in your mouth, he didn't pull away until you swallowed it all.
—"That was good, thank you, my love."
He smiled and removed the gag. It was very relieving, as your jaw finally rested and your cheeks were no longer constantly pressed by the straps. Your lips and chin were still moist. Dick caressed the pink marks on your cheeks. He loved how tender your skin became after hours of being restrained by the straps.
He stood up after kissing you on the lips and began to undo the restraints on your hands and ankles.
—"You can walk or stay there while I prepare the food."
You nodded and just lay on the rug, wondering if this would ever stop, if they were looking for you.
If only someone would have noticed your absence.
When you heard the microwave, you got up and sat at a table next to it. He arrived with two plates and placed one in front of you.
As soon as you started eating, he laughed and took out his phone to take a picture of you.
—"Your friends still don't suspect that you're no longer in Delaware. Don't worry, I keep them well informed... they know you're okay, that you're living well, that you have a sweet boyfriend who loves you."
You felt a shiver run through your body when you both exchanged glances.
—"I love you, you know it."
He smiled and kissed you. His kisses were no longer sweet, they were disgusting and wet. But Dick always enjoyed them. He loved having you, he loved playing with you, he loved kissing you because that's the only way he'd feel the stump of your tongue, which he'd cut off because you tried to call the neighbors.
TW: Yandere themes, parental neglect, explicit language, mentions of sexual content (not graphic, but hinted at in dialogue), ambiguous interactions between adults and a minor, as well as psychological dynamics of power and vulnerability. Unwanted but starved murder.
Read with caution.
They had reunited after so long. Lestat promised he would change. Louis believed him, not because he believed in second chances (more like the twentieth chance), but because he saw him as different. The Frenchman seemed different, he was, and it showed in his gaze.
For your part, you had met them on a very peculiar night.
You had missed the last bus of the afternoon and stood at the bus stop hoping another bus would come. Your phone was off; you had run out of battery since you'd had a really long day, and at the school you attended, all the assignments were on the school's website and had to be done online. You also had extracurricular activities and a 40-minute break during the break between classes (you also loved checking your social media and playing video games). Calling your parents wasn't an option, and neither was borrowing a phone from passersby since almost no one was there, and the few who were still there at that hour seemed too untrustworthy.
The night breeze snuck through the trees and the rusty signs at the bus stop, stirring your hair and making you shiver. It was late. Very late. The streetlights flickered as if they were tired too. You looked at the bus stop clock once more: 11:52 p.m.
You were alone. Or so you thought.
—"Are you waiting for the bus?"— asked a soft, deep voice, with an accent that wasn't easy to place, but it sounded elegant, friendly.
You turned around, a little scared, and saw him. Tall, thin, dressed in black, with a wide-brimmed hat that barely concealed pale eyes, too pale for someone of his complexion. He watched you without moving, as if he didn't want to scare you. It was the man you would later know as 'Louis'.
You nodded slowly, saying nothing.
He smiled, barely. A smile so faint it seemed more like a memory than a real expression.
—“I doubt another one will come by today. Can I sit with you?”
You looked at him, and something in his voice, in his manner, made you not feel afraid. He seemed... alone. Like you. You nodded again.
Louis sat down carefully next to you, leaving a respectful space between you. He took out a handkerchief and folded it between his fingers. He didn't look at you directly, but he didn't completely avert his attention either. He was present.
—“It's not safe for someone your age to be alone at this time”— he murmured. —“Do your parents know where you are?”
You shook your head.
—“My phone died… and there's no one around.”
Louis nodded. Then, with a pause that felt long, he asked:
—“Do you want a ride home?”
—“I don't get into strangers' cars”— you said firmly, though not entirely confidently. You had made the mistake of saying no one knew where you were. He was attractive and an adult; you'd always been afraid of people like that.
Louis wasn't offended by your refusal. In fact, he seemed relieved. He lowered his gaze and nodded slowly, as if he respected your answer more than anything else you could have said.
Louis wasn't offended by your response. In fact, his eyes, those absurdly sad eyes, softened, as if he were... proud of you.
—"Well said"— he whispered. —"Never trust too quickly. Even when someone seems harmless."
He watched you with a patient gaze, as if he could wait for hours by your side without saying anything else.
—"I'll stay here. Until your bus arrives."
—"You said none would come."
Louis smiled, this time more visible, with a hint of irony.
—"I know. But I can still stay."
Several minutes passed, maybe an hour, you were bored, and there was a TikTok song playing in your head, helping you dissociate, like so many times when your mother and father argued at the slightest opportunity.
Louis glanced at you every few minutes, out of the corner of his eye. You were truly adorable, and it's been a long time since he'd had human companionship; you were a warm little thing by his side. Even though you weren't that close, he could still feel your body temperature. He didn't say anything else. He stayed with you, motionless, as if he had nowhere else to go. Maybe he didn't. Or maybe he'd simply decided that, for now, you were his destiny.
The silence between you wasn't awkward. It was strange... like a pause in time. A suspended night where nothing was happening, but everything was about to happen.
—"How old are you?"— he asked after a while.
—"Seventeen"— you said quickly, looking at the floor, crossing your arms as if you could hide behind them.
Something changed in the air. You felt it before you saw it: a cooler breeze, a strong scent, like withered flowers and sweet blood.
—"And who is this little creature?"— he asked, approaching with calm, almost dancing steps. He crouched down at your level with a smile as charming as it was terrifying. —"Hello, chérie. Are you lost?"
Louis stood up immediately, standing between you and the blond like a living shield.
—“Don't touch her, Lestat.”
—“Touch her? Please! I just want to meet her. It's not every day I find you babysitting a human child at a bus stop, like a... what do you say? Boy Scout?”
Lestat smirked, but his eyes shifted to yours. They were looking at you with interest.
—“She has a lovely presence. Look at how she trembles, how fast she breathes... She's beautiful, don't you think?”
Louis sighed when Lestat sat down next to you; he knew he wouldn't do anything to you right away since he'd already consumed blood recently. You could smell him, and who knows how long he'd been listening to the little conversation between you and him.
He didn't say it, but he tensed as if every fiber of his being was preparing to act as soon as Lestat made the slightest false move. His eyes—so patient before—were now liquid steel. You, for your part, could barely breathe. You sensed the two men weren't normal. There was something about them, the way they moved, the way they looked at you, that put you on edge... though with Louis, it was different. With him, at least, you didn't feel fear. Only that strange melancholy that seemed to envelop him like a cloak.
—"Lestat..."— Louis warned, in that soft voice that never seemed to raise its pitch, but carried with it a weight as thick as the night. —"Enough."
—"Enough what?"— the blond replied, amused, as he leaned his elbow on the bench and his face in his hand. —"I just talk. Isn't that what humans do? Chatting at bus stops, shivering from the cold, sharing secrets..."
You flinched a little. His smile unsettled you. It was beautiful, but you felt like a mouse being watched by a cat that had already eaten but still wanted to play.
—"I have no secrets"— you said firmly, trying to sound older. Like someone who couldn't be intimidated.
Lestat raised his eyebrows theatrically.
—"No? And that little lie about your age? Oh, mon ange... don't tell me you thought we wouldn't notice."
Your heart leapt. He looked at you directly, as if he could see right through you. As if your thoughts were an open book to him.
Louis turned slightly toward you, still keeping an eye on Lestat.
—"It's all right"— he said, his tone softer, almost paternal. —"You're not in trouble."
But Lestat wasn't finished.
—"Twelve. Maybe thirteen, if you count generosity and good lighting."— He laughed softly, a cruel gleam in his eyes. —"Did they teach you to lie like that in school?"
—"Lestat..."— Louis repeated, and this time, his voice was colder. More dangerous.
The blond man stopped. He looked at him with feigned innocence. Then, without warning, he stood up, took a couple of steps, and bowed in front of you again. Louis didn't move, but his gaze was a silent threat.
—"You're shivering"— Lestat said, his voice low. —"You're cold. Would you like to borrow my coat?"
You shook your head sharply. You shrank even further, hugging yourself.
Louis took a step forward. It was enough to make Lestat back away.
—"Good. Good"— the blond said, raising his hands as if in a sign of peace. —"How hard it is to make friends these days..."
Lestat reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a shiny, modern cell phone, a little too new since he rarely used it. He turned it elegantly between his fingers, playing with it as if it were a tempting candy.
—“Oh, Cherie… imagine this: you make a little call, your parents come, and everyone is happy. Only…”— he gave you a crooked, dangerous smile— “…not everything in this life is free.”
—“What do you want in return?”— you asked, your voice low, as if you were afraid of the answer.
Lestat tilted his head, delighted and admiring the new creature he had just met. Louis leaned a little closer to you, enough so that his shadow shielded you from the world.
—“Just ignore him”— he murmured. —“Lestat talks a lot when he's bored.”
—“Ouch!”— the blond complained exaggeratedly, putting a hand to his chest. —“That hurt, Louis. Honestly. I'm just trying to be nice to this sweet creature.”
Louis ignored him. He crouched down a little to be at your eye level.
—“Would you like to use my phone?”—He asked, glancing at the one Lestat was holding. —"It's not his. It's mine. He's just borrowing it because he likes to snoop."
Lestat chuckled, but didn't protest.
You nodded and grabbed the phone, entered your mother's number, and called on speakerphone.
—"Hello?"
Your eyes lit up when your sleepy mother answered.
—"Mom, I missed the bus and I've been here for hours. Some men lent me their phone. Can Dad come get me?"— you said, trying to hide your excitement, thinking they were never going to answer.
You heard him groan in annoyance.
—"Are you at the bus stop near your school?"
—"Yes, Mom."
There was a silence; you could hear your father's murmurs.
—"I can't right now, honey. I just had make-up sex with your dad. You don't want the spark to go away, do you?"
—"Uhm... I don't think so."
—"Find a place where it won't get cold. We'll stop by tomorrow morning and have breakfast as a family. I love you, minha nega."
And he hung up.
You couldn't help the urge to cry. You knew your parents were what other overprotective parents call "neglectful." And it pained you that cold strangers heard it so clearly.
You looked at them, not knowing what they would say.
The blond just laughed, and Louis looked at him with distaste.
—"Well... I know horror movies start like that, but... what if we take you? We have a nice car that the new generation of kids like you will surely like."
They both stood up when you did.
This wouldn't have happened if you had enrolled them in a school closer to your house.
—"Don't pressure her, Lestat."
Lestat raised his eyebrows, clearly amused.
—"I'm not pressuring her, I'm just offering charming alternatives. Although of course... if she prefers to wait alone in the dark..."
You stood still for a moment, weighing the situation. You were cold, you were tired, and your parents weren't coming. Those two men were strange, yes, but they didn't seem dangerous... at least, not to you.
—"Are they going to kill me or something?"— you asked suddenly, bluntly.
Louis blinked, surprised, but Lestat laughed as if you'd told him the best joke of the year.
—"Oh, no, chérie! Killing children is boring and vulgar."
Louis looked at you with a mixture of sadness and tenderness.
—"We just want to help you. No one should be left alone out at night because of their... busy parents."
—"Too busy having sex"— Lestat added with theatrical sarcasm.
Louis closed his eyes in resignation.
—"Enough."
You sighed, crossing your arms.
—"Oh, come on, it's not bad. We fuck each other too."
You didn't know what to do; it wasn't the first time adults had spoken explicitly in front of you. But that didn't make it any less uncomfortable.
Even less so if your mind only thought about that later.
—"Look, you've already made her uncomfortable, well done."
Lestat rolled his eyes at the scolding.
Your stomach ached with hunger, that discomfort so unfamiliar to you. You'd skipped breakfast and lunch; dinner was supposed to be your first meal of the day. But your return home was thwarted.
That was the last time you went to school.
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They had been quite convincing; after taking you from the bus stop, they took you to see the nightlife spots that were suitable for a girl your age. But then, then, they wouldn't let you leave.
They promised you luxuries and money to keep you staying.
You hadn't agreed, and that resulted in Lestat locking you in a coffin.
Why would they have two coffins in the same room? It was something you didn't understand.
Until after keeping you in the coffin for two days, they let you out to drink water and eat some sandwiches, and then Lestat told you that if you screamed, he'd rip your jaw out.
—"You'll stay here and never leave if you don't want us to cut you into little pieces. Your father, Louis, went to get you some things."
Two years had passed since then. You didn't come home that night, or the next. Or ever.
You had tried to escape, of course. For the first six months, they had always hugged you and brought you along. Once, you had gone out onto the highway and asked a police officer for help, but Louis appeared behind you and hugged you around the waist while you watched Lestat bite the policeman.
That was the time you discovered they were vampires, and it was also the last time you tried to escape from that luxurious apartment where they lived.
As I said, two years had passed; you had grown accustomed to their behavior, and luckily, you had only witnessed Lestat feed on the policeman who tried to help you once. Still, you knew they both fed on people Louis hired.
You ate normal food. An Italian-speaking chef would come and make you food that Louis chose, saying it would have more vitamins or something. Lestat was the one who had intervened so you could eat desserts.
Okay, you're not kidnapped. More like, you were adopted illegally and by force. (Spoiled captive syndrome is knocking at your door, darling)
But when you showed them you were no longer the little girl who wanted to run away, they treated you even better. They hired tutors so you wouldn't lose your studies. Sometimes Louis would spy on you while they taught you applied calculus and leave when he realized you were making a mistake because you were nervous about being watched. But they couldn't help it! You made them feel like they did when they first had Claudia (you know, before everything got complicated). But even though you're a teenager, to century-old vampires like them, you were like a baby. A baby they'd let grow a little longer before being turned into another bloodsucker.
—"Do you know what your life would be like if we hadn't found you?"— he asked one night, crossing his legs while swirling a crystal goblet of dark liquid.
—"Probably better..."— you whispered softly, almost without realizing it.
Lestat fell silent. His smile stretched, slow, lopsided, like a cat that has just found prey it won't let go of.
—"Better? Oh, little one..."— he leaned in, his eyes shining. —"do you want to be alone at the bus stop again? Do you want to be found by other men less... noble than us?"
You said nothing. You just pressed your lips together, your knuckles white around the pencil.
—"Come on, my dear..."
Louis appeared behind you, his cold hands resting on your shoulders like the weight of a curse. —"Don't say things you don't understand... you have no idea what's out there."
The first time you heard that phrase from Louis was the night a man in an elegant suit was let into the apartment. He had looked at you, curious, and Lestat had spoken to him in a low voice while you pretended to read a book. When the man left, Louis wiped his hands with a white napkin, and Lestat laughed as if it were all a game.
From then on, you understood. You didn't want to know what was going on out there. Or who they were bringing.
The days went by. Sometimes Lestat bought you new dresses, necklaces, shiny ornaments. —"So you look pretty, chérie..."— he said as he tried them on, adjusting them with his icy fingers. You stood still, letting them slip around your neck like golden chains.
And yes, sometimes... sometimes you thought it was okay. That it wasn't so bad. That they gave you good food, books, they even taught you how to play the piano.
But then, when Louis walked by and brushed his fingertips against your cheek, or when Lestat stood looking at you from the shadows of the room, as if deciding something, you remembered that night.
The night you didn't come home.
The night the door closed behind you and Louis wrapped his arms around your waist while Lestat smiled with his fangs bared.
You remembered how you screamed.
And how you never did again.
But then it all came to a head when you fell in love for the first time, with your geography teacher's daughter. Lestat had said that "whore" only wanted the family money and was manipulating you. Louis was more reserved; he wasn't trying to brainwash you. But he was clearly upset. You didn't understand why. They couldn't complain that you also liked women. You thought it was just anxious parent syndrome.
Until one afternoon, you were coming back from shopping. You and your girlfriend were having a sleepover, and you had decided to buy some candy. It was already getting dark. But that didn't worry you; it was for the best, since it meant your "parents" would be going hunting very soon.
But as soon as you entered the luxurious suite where they lived, you got a surprise. She was there. Lestat was yelling at her, saying that if she didn't stay still, he would break her legs too. You ran to her, noticing how her arms were broken.
—"It's about time you arrived. We were waiting for you..."
Then Lestat pulled you away from her and quickly sank his fangs into your neck. You kicked against his great strength, but your body quickly gave out from blood loss.
—"This is for your own good, Y/N..."— Louis whispered.
When you were about to close your eyes, the darkness was not the soothing sleep you expected. It was an icy fire that consumed you from within. Every cell in your body screamed in indescribable agony, as if you were being disassembled and reassembled with ice needles and barbed wire. Lestat's vampiric venom ran through your veins, an ecstasy of death that was tearing you from your humanity claw by claw.
They didn't want to do it, you forced them, you forced them to turn you because your attitude made them feel threatened, they didn't want their baby to leave, they didn't want their little chick to leave the nest.
Through a haze of pain, you saw their faces. Lestat, with an expression of absolute fascination, enthralled by your transformation. Louis, beside him, pale and with eyes glassy from an ancient pain, holding your ice-cold hand in his, which now felt just as cold.
—"Almost there, mon cher Louis"— Lestat whispered, stroking your hair soaked in cold sweat. —"Look how she fights. She is strong, our little one."
—"Just finish it"— Louis's voice was a thread broken by anguish. —"Don't make her suffer more."
The fire intensified and then, suddenly, ceased. The agony was replaced by a supernatural stillness. You no longer felt your heart beat, nor the air enter your lungs. But what you did feel was a thirst. A burning, devouring thirst that scorched your throat and clouded your mind. It was a primordial hunger that eclipsed everything: the fear, the confusion, the pain. The world around you had exploded into a kaleidoscope of hyperbolic sensations. You could smell the dust in the corners, the candle wax, Louis's perfume, the ancient blood that emanated from Lestat... and another smell. Sweet, warm, vital. Human blood.
Your sight, now supernaturally sharpened, focused on the source of that scent. There, on the floor, lay your girlfriend. Her arms were still broken, her face was pale from terror and blood loss, but her heart was still beating, pumping that irresistible nectar that was now the only thing in the universe you desired.
A guttural growl, which you didn't recognize as your own, escaped your throat. You sat up with a fluidity that was not human, your new instincts guiding every movement.
—"There it is"— said Lestat with perverse pride. —"The call of the blood. You cannot deny it, little one."
Louis gently stepped in your path, his sad green eyes searching for yours. —"You have to do it. It is the only way to complete the change. To be one of us. To be safe forever."
—"Please!"— the girl on the floor moaned, breaking into sobs. —"Don't do it! It's me! Remember me!"
But her voice was just a distant echo compared to the hypnotic drumming of her blood. Her fear was a spice that intensified the aroma. The thirst was too powerful, too absolute.
Lestat took you by the arm, with a strength that no longer felt oppressive, but right. He guided you towards her. —"Drink, chérie. It is your birthright. It is our gift to you. It will free you from all that human pain, from that weakness."
You knelt beside her. Her salty tears mixed with the smell of her blood. A part of you, the one who had been 15 years old and had fallen in love, screamed in horror. But the newborn beast you were now drowned that scream with the roar of thirst.
—"Do it"— ordered Louis from behind, his voice laden with millennial sorrow. —"And you will never be hungry for anything else again."
Your girlfriend screamed when your fangs, sharp and new, found her neck. The first drop of warm blood touched your tongue and it was an explosion of flavor and power that erased any last vestige of humanity. It was the essence of life itself, and you were draining it. You drank greedily, as her weak attempts to struggle ceased and her body became heavy and cold in your arms.
Satiety flooded you, an intoxicating ecstasy that made you tremble. You dropped the body and stepped back, looking at your hands stained red. Reality returned to you in a wave of unspeakable horror and guilt.
Lestat applauded softly, with a wide, genuine smile. —"Magnificent!
Louis approached and, with an impeccable silk handkerchief, gently wiped the blood from your mouth and hands. His gaze was deep, full of a shared sorrow.
—"I'm sorry"— he whispered. —"It was necessary. Now you are complete. Now you are ours forever."
The girl you were died on that Persian rug, next to the body of her first love. The one who rose was something more, and something less.
The years turned into decades. You were no longer the frightened teenager at a bus stop. You were a vampire, elegant, eternally young and terrible in your beauty. You lived in the eternal opulence that Lestat and Louis provided, a dark daughter in an immortal family.
You learned to hunt, to move in the shadows, to despise the world of the sun you once knew. Human morality sloughed off you like old skin, replaced by the cold and simple logic of predators: the strong survive, and you were strong.
Lestat was always your enthusiastic teacher, teaching you the pleasure of the game and cruelty. Louis, for his part, was your comfort, the guardian of the melancholy that sometimes, deep down, still whispered.
One night, as you watched the city from the balcony of your new palace in Paris, Louis approached your side.
—"Do you remember the bus stop?"— he asked, his voice as soft as the first night.
You took a sip of red wine from a crystal glass. The blood inside was cold and old, from a bag, a whim of Louis for days when the hunt was unappealing.
—"Sometimes"— you answered, your voice now a silky echo of what it was. —"Like remembering a distant dream. Or a nightmare."
—"Do you ever think about what would have happened if...?"
—"No"— you interrupted, and it was the truth. You didn't anymore. The "what if" was a human concept, as perishable as the flesh you once wore.
Lestat appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around both of you.
—"Reminiscing about old times?"— he asked, tenderly.
—"It was a wonderful night. We found you, we polished you and you became the jewel you are."— He kissed your temple, a cold and possessive gesture.
You looked down at the mortals rushing around like ants illuminated by the streetlights. You were no longer one of them. You were the predator in the ivory tower. The fear, loneliness, and hunger of that girl had been replaced by absolute power and an eternal existence, shared with your two beloved captors, your creators, your family.
The door had closed forever that night, and you, at last, had stopped trying to open it. You had found your home in the darkness.
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Yes, I know I've been gone longer than I should have.
BUT I'M BACK!
Well, as always, your likes are welcome, and please reblog too. It would help me a lot.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
hi lovely!! i adore your writing ♡♡. would you be open to writing a platonic hannigram x child reader who uses mobility aids (particularly forearm crutches and/or a wheelchair)? have a great day/night ♡!!
Aww, thanks for the compliment. I'm glad there are people who like my writing, and I hope you like this short story.
Our pretty baby
Yandere platonic Hannigram x child reader.
TW: soft yandere, child abuse and exploitation.
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Hannibal and Will never believed he'd fall in love with such a sweet little thing like you. They never considered adopting after their escape.
You were the daughter of a humble family who owned a bakery. You had an accident when you were three years old, and since then, you couldn't walk without support like your forearm crutch.
Will was the one who spotted you first, since Hannibal refused to enter such a humble and, according to him, "unhygienic" bakery.
Our beloved profiler fell in love with you when he saw you helping him pick out something sweet. You were adorable, small, and energetic enough to have to rely on crutches. His empathetic heart couldn't help but see you as the adorable little girl you were.
Hannibal found out about you when Will was taking too long, and he had to go in to see if his husband was okay (even though the most dangerous thing could be Will).
The doorbell rang as Hannibal entered, frowning slightly. The smell of flour, butter, and freshly baked pastries permeated the air overwhelmingly. He looked with disdain at the fogged-up glass cases and the slightly messy shelves.
But it wasn't the dirt that made him uncomfortable: it was what he saw at that moment.
Will, his Will, was crouching in front of a small creature. You, with your disheveled hair and a flour-stained apron, laughed sweetly as you pointed to a couple of cookies you knew were a favorite with the neighborhood children. Your eyes shone so genuinely that even the dim lighting of the shop seemed warmer around you.
Will turned to look at him as soon as he noticed his presence, and Hannibal was surprised by the expression on his husband's face: an unconditional devotion, a tenderness he'd never before shown to a human being other than himself. He approached, sliding his hand over Will's shoulder as a silent reminder of their union.
You looked at them curiously, your small crutch trembling slightly as you leaned more heavily on it to greet them. The bakery was empty except for you and Will. He found it endearing how Will looked at you and how you responded with a cute smile missing a baby tooth.
Your mother appeared; she was arguing with your older sister as they both carried new desserts to sell.
Neither Hannibal nor Will liked it when your mother and sister yelled at you for forgetting to write down the things you'd sold. They also heard a slap and your sobs.
Despite that, Will went every day to buy little things (things Hannibal probably wouldn't even dare look at).
You were so innocent, too innocent. You spoke so sweetly about how your leg stopped "working properly" after your father pushed you and you fell against a piece of furniture because you were crying so hard and your father couldn't stop yelling at your mother. You told him how, after the fall, you couldn't stand on your leg anymore.
Will wanted to pick you up and take you to a fucking hospital so they could treat you, and if they were still in time, so you wouldn't have to depend permanently on those crutches.
You spoke to him without fear, as if you didn't sense the dangerous aura and the prejudices surrounding Will. You told him about your dolls, the stories you made up when your sister wouldn't let you watch TV, and once you even offered him one of your "secret cookies," which you hid in a box under the counter.
—"This one has star anise, but don't tell anyone. It's my secret recipe"— you told him in a low voice, as if it were a state secret.
It wasn't difficult for Hannibal to like you; you reminded him of Misha and touched his most sensitive and protective side.
You almost never went to school. The humble village school wasn't suitable for a disabled girl like you, and that was what hurt them the most.
But that didn't stop them from sending you to catechism classes; the journey was long, and your little arms couldn't handle the long walk and the uneven streets anymore.
Hannibal and Will were passing by because they were shopping in the neighboring town, so they didn't hesitate to get off and talk to their little friend.
—"I don't want to go. But if I don't go, Mom and Dad will get mad"— you had said while crying.
They looked at each other, and Hannibal smiled.
He was determined.
They took you with them and went shopping (you and Will stayed in the car while Hannibal picked out the groceries since last time Will brought everything except what was on the list).
They took you to their house, you played with them the whole way, and when you arrived at the big house, you were surrounded by Will's energetic dogs.
That night, before you fell asleep, you whispered:
—"Can I stay here forever?"
Will kissed your forehead with so much love that your small, brave heart felt like it had finally come home.
Hannibal turned off the light and before closing the door, he said, very quietly:
—"Forever."
Well, unlike my other fanfics, they would make it their number one priority not to hurt you no matter what. You were a little girl, and they weren't monsters...well, at least not that much since you were a little girl.
A sweet little girl with a disability that will likely haunt her for the rest of her life.
The house was too elegant, too cold, at first. But Will took it upon himself to teach you how to navigate it, patient as a shepherd with his most fragile puppy. Hannibal taught you to read better, to speak better, to hold a fork more accurately, even though your small arms sometimes trembled from the weight of the cutlery. And when you couldn't walk for long, Will would carry you in his arms without a word. When you cried in pain, Hannibal would sit beside you on the marble floor, stroking your hair with his expert hands, whispering stories that made you forget the pain.
Stories of wolves and lambs.
Stories of houses in the woods where no one could find you.
Stories where you were always the most special child.
If only you knew what they did to your family...
You were playing with Play-Doh on the small table meant for you, sitting on the plush rug while Lirus (one of the many dogs) lay on your lap, while they were...
—"Do you know what you are to us?"— he asked softly.
You looked at him, your eyes shining, your head tilted.
—"What?"
Hannibal leaned over from his chair, a glass in his hand and a smile so subtle it was barely noticeable.
—"You're the dessert life owed us."
You burst out laughing, still not fully understanding, but feeling deep in your chest that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
In a house with books, soft music, the smells of bread and coffee. With three little dogs sleeping at your feet.
With two men the world called monsters, but who, to you, were simply: "Dad and Daddy."
____________
Thanks for reading.
Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
TW: Mutual kidnapping (?), deprivation of liberty, non-consensual touching, saliva as lubricant, rough oral sex.
+18 content, read at your own risk.
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You were in your hiding place, needing money fast.
"If you've been to jail once, you'll subconsciously look for a way to get in again."
You settled into the old seed sacks and thought, opening the newspaper and reading it. You saw an article about him donating thousands to a children's hospital.
If only he'd done that when you were hospitalized...
You hated him, crumpled the newspaper and threw it away, tore up everything you could, the little that was in your hiding place.
When you finished your attack and looked at the floor, you were still trying to catch your breath when you saw him. Again, the image of Bruce Wayne.
Fucking Bruce Wayne, smiling, wearing his usual expensive suit and holding a baby girl. The headline was clear: "Million-dollar donation to Saint Mary's Children's Hospital."
You You bit your lip until you felt the flesh split.
At twelve, you were admitted to that hospital. A preventable disease. A disease that took months of your life, your weight, your voice. Your parents abandoned you on that stretcher and never returned. The hospital could barely keep you alive. You didn't even have all your vaccinations. After that, you started stealing, even though your health wasn't the best, and that made you even more mediocre.
Despite all that, you didn't hate the rich. You had nothing against them.
But you needed the money.
It wasn't difficult to find the adopted firstborn of the richest man in the entire country.
Surprisingly, he was more stupid than he looked. You had found him on the road, asked him to help you change a tire, and he agreed with a goofy grin while he couldn't stop staring at you.
You had injected him with something when he bent down to look at the tire. You had to drag his semi-conscious body to the trunk. He didn't even scream or try to fight, he just smiled like an idiot.
You drove with fear. You knew what the city was like. These things happened often. But the guards always came to ruin everything. The road was long until you reached an old factory near the dock. You dragged him inside with difficulty once you reached the old factory. You tied him up and hung him with the help of the old pulleys.
Dick Grayson's wrists dangled above his head, tied to one of the pulleys of the old loading system that no one used anymore. You played with your old card game.
He was breathing slowly. Unconscious. But you knew he wouldn't last much longer like this.
And you weren't wrong.
A soft moan, barely audible. Then, a slight tug.
Then you heard it.
—"Nice place..."— he murmured hoarsely, as if there wasn't a string tied to his bones. —"A bit rustic for a date, don't you think?"
You didn't get up right away. You just looked at him. There you had him, finally awake, finally conscious. And he was still... smiling.
—"It's not a date."— You raised an eyebrow and continued playing, looking at nothing but your battered cards. —"You owe me a couple million."
Dick gave a soft laugh. Not scared, not upset.
—"Do you know how many times I imagined this moment?"
This time you did look at him.
His lips were chapped and blood was drying on his forehead, but his eyes... his eyes were shining. Dark blue, almost black. There was no hatred in them.
There was adoration.
It made you uncomfortable.
—"You're really lovely"— the man whispered as you approached.
—"I injected you with ketamine."
—"I know"—. He laughed.
You remained silent; you hated people so social and shameless as to speak their minds.
—"Give me a number so I can call your people"— you ordered.
—"No thanks, I'd rather stay here, with you"— he replied.
You looked at him.
—"You're out of your mind"— you said.
Then you heard voices.
"Are you sure no one's here?".
"No, now unload that shit and we'll pack it up properly."
You became alert; there were two other people in the abandoned factory, two people who, like you, were breaking a few laws.
—"What I wouldn't give to kiss you..."
—"Well, it's a shame because you're tied up and won't touch a hair on my head"— you said before turning around to face whoever had entered.
—"No?..."
He slipped out of the ropes so easily when you turned around, and he quickly grabbed you as you prepared to run. Dick couldn't be happier; you and he were finally together.
You tried to fight back and scratched his neck. He smiled and pushed you onto the seed sacks. He pulled off your shoes and ripped pants. You tried to kick him. He smiled fanatically and grabbed your shirt.
He unbuttoned your silly shirt and pulled it off. You tried to fight back, but all you could hear was his silly laughter. He hated how his laughter wasn't evil, it was genuine happiness. He turned you around, so you were leaning over the seed sacks. You yelped when he bit the flesh of your shoulder blade.
He quickly put two of his fingers in your mouth and licked your tongue so hard that you shut up and just licked his fingers.
—"Shh... You don't want them to come and see why we're making so much noise."
You tried to move away, but he dug his fingers deeper and touched your throat, making you gag.
—"If you don't know how to stay still, I should teach you, right? And you better get my fingers wet. It'll be the only lubrication you'll have."
He played with your tongue, and after lightly touching your uvula, making you salivate even more, he pulled out his fingers and lowered them to your crotch. With his other hand, he moved your panties aside. You moaned when his fingers touched your clit. You tried to push him away. But he hugged your breast and leaned over you. His wet fingers rubbed your fleshy core quite hard, but in a satisfactory way.
—"You're so pretty, wonderful. I love you. I love you. I love you so much."
You felt his clothed erection bump against your ass. He continued biting your neck, alternating with licks and kisses. His two fingers had entered your vagina, penetrating quickly and forcefully.
It hurt, yes, but it felt good and it was incredibly stimulating. You'd had sex a couple of times in exchange for food, but it had never felt this good.
Until you realized you were no longer the one in control. You couldn't be fucking the man you kidnapped.
—"Stop it, stop it!"— you struggled, then pushed him away. He stopped and pulled his hands away.
—"Oh... Well"— I looked at you as you confronted him. —"It seems my hands aren't doing the job right. I can do it with my mouth."
You were about to refuse and yell at him.
—"Did you hear that? Looks like we have company."
Dick grabbed you, and you both crawled into the old seed sacks. You'd created a sleeping fort inside, and it was so good they only looked like you were stacked.
You heard footsteps and got distracted. You didn't notice Dick flipping you over and tying your thumbs with the cloth handkerchief hidden in his jacket—the jacket you never checked and just thought he was a rich, spoiled cliché. He laughed softly and then flipped you over again.
—"Don't scream. You don't want to be seen as the dirty slut you are."
He removed your panties and lifted your bra. He licked a long line from your pelvis to your sternum, pausing to gather more saliva and trace it down to your neck.
He laid you on the floor and got between your legs. You tried to close them, but he was stronger. He opened them and got between them. When you tried to squeeze them, he opened them and placed them on his shoulders. He bit the inside of your thighs until you cried.
When he started licking, you wanted to scream. He was quite strong, even with his tongue. He also put his fingers back in and opened and closed them. He was rough, it hurt, but it was satisfying.
When you were about to come, he pulled out and kissed you, frustrating your orgasm. The first time was nothing.
But he did it five more times. After so long, you were already crying and very hypersensitive.
—"Come on, baby. Did you really think this was a reward? It's your punishment for not loving me like I do. But it's okay. I guess you've suffered enough."
Then his penis advanced again. It had a soft texture, but it was strong; it had three fingers. In your vagina, which was already stretched thin from all the scissoring he'd been doing.
When you finally came, Dick licked all the juice, not hesitating to swallow it. He sighed with a smile when he finished and lay down next to you, staring at you as he did even when he licked and sucked your vagina.
—"You're sick..."— you whispered.
—"No, it's just that I couldn't have you to myself before. Do you know how happy I was when you talked to me? When you had me tied up?... Never mind..."
You closed your eyes in exhaustion. Apparently the intruders who had entered the factory had already left.
—"How about I eat your ass now too?..."
=========
Thanks for reading.
Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Requests open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
Hello! Can I please request a oneshot featuring a romantic yandere Hannigram x female reader. In this scenario, the reader has already been kidnapped and feels more fear towards Will than Hannibal. While she is certainly afraid of Hannibal, her fear of Will is heightened because he brings back memories of her abusive father. Please don’t feel pressured to fulfill this request if it doesn’t spark your creativity. Take care!
TW: Yandere content, kidnapping, obsession, traumatic memories. Mentions of child abuse. Non-consensual body swap.
Sorry if it's short, I hope you like it. Sorry for taking so long.
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You're not like him, you're worse.
The air in the room is thick, heavy with a mix of old wood, books, and something more metallic. You don't dare identify it. You're sitting in an oak chair, your hands tied on either side of the armrests. You'd tried to attack Hannibal, but they stopped you just in time.
Now your skin was marked by the constant friction of the restraints.
The seconds stretch like centuries while you wait. You have no idea how long you've been here. The only certainty you have is that they're close. That they're watching you.
Hannibal stands by the window, serene as ever, a glass of wine in his hand. His presence is unsettling, but it's Will who truly makes your skin crawl. He's leaning against the wall, his head tilted slightly, watching you with those sharp blue eyes that seem to dissect every part of your being.
It's not that Hannibal doesn't scare you. He does, of course. It's like being in the same room as a sleeping lion. But Will... Will is something else. There's something about the way he looks at you, the way his fingers twitch as if he's holding back. He's the one who makes you tremble, who brings back memories you'd buried years ago.
Memories of a raspy voice calling your name, of heavy footsteps approaching angrily, of hands that gripped your arm too tightly. Your father had tortured you throughout your childhood and adolescence.
And Will reminded you of him.
Always so serious, when he touched you, his grip was strong enough that you could feel it even after several hours.
–"Are you comfortable?"– Hannibal asks, his voice soft, as if you hadn't tried to stab him with a knife just an hour ago. His tone is so polite, so warm, it feels like a stab wrapped in velvet.
You don't respond. You don't want to give him that power.
Will pushes away from the wall, his boots echoing on the wooden floor like a macabre metronome. Every step he takes makes your stomach twist. He stops right in front of you and crouches down, level with you. He studies you silently, too close. You can smell the leather of his jacket, and the faint scent of the cheap soap he uses.
–"Why did you try?"– he murmurs. –"Did you think you could hurt him?"
There's something dangerous in his tone, something that wasn't there before. It's not just suppressed anger anymore. It's disappointment, it's possessiveness, it's that sick need for control you recognize all too well.
His fingers slowly rise to your face. You tremble. Not because of the cold. Not because of the pain of the restraints. But because you know exactly what's coming next. Because you've been through this before. Because Will doesn't yell at you. He doesn't hit you. But his presence crushes you.
–"You don't have to be afraid of him"– he says, his eyes boring into yours. –"I'm the one who can't control myself."
A confession disguised as a threat.
You shrink as far as you can into the chair, but there's nowhere to run. Hannibal simply watches, taking a contemplative sip of wine. As if this were a sight he's seen a hundred times before.
–"Don't push her too hard, Will"– he finally says, like someone speaking to a puppy that's biting too hard. –"Remember, she breaks easily."
Will doesn't respond. He touches your cheek with the backs of his fingers. Almost tenderly.
And you, silently, just wish the sleeping lion would wake up. Because if Hannibal is the monster under the bed, Will is the one who sits on your chest while you sleep, whispering to you that there's no escape.
Your breathing becomes erratic. You know you're in the present, that you're tied to a chair in Hannibal Lecter's house, but your body doesn't understand. Memory asserts itself like a thick tide, dragging you along without permission.
You remembered the door slamming shut. The squeak of his keys hitting the kitchen table was the cue. How he gave you exactly 40 seconds to hide. Not because they were playing hide-and-seek. But because that was the routine. The only strategy that ever worked.
But it never worked for long.
–"Where are you, brat?"– growled that voice, broken by tobacco and alcohol, the same one that called you "princess" only when it wanted you to stop crying too loudly.
You remembered the burning in your wrists as he dragged you out of the closet. The creaking of the belt between his fingers. The metallic smell that lingered in the air, just like the one in this room.
Will grabbed your jaw, strong as ever. His eyes stared into yours.
The fear you feel toward him isn't rational. It's physical. It settles at the base of your neck, in the trembling of your knees, in the sour taste in your mouth.
–"Are you remembering something, Y/N?"– Will asks you, almost sweetly.
You don't answer. You can't. Because if you speak, that fragile barrier between your past and this new hell will break.
Will smiles, and for a second, the gesture makes your skin crawl more than any threat. Not because he's kind.
But because it's identical to the one your father used when he said, "This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me."
–"Leave it to me, dear."
The doctor approaches elegantly, placing the wineglass on a nearby table. His steps are silent. Like an animal that learned to walk silently long before it learned to speak.
He leans toward you, his eyes boring into yours.
–"I offered you hospitality, and you responded with violence"– he says calmly. –"But I'm not unfair. I'll give you a second chance."
A small spark of hope ignites. Idiot. You still have that obsession with believing you can get out of this alive.
–"However"– he adds, slowly straightening. –"second chances always come with a punishment."
Will stays in the shadows, watching. Like a well-trained dog, waiting for the command. He doesn't seem bothered. On the contrary. He's excited. You can see it in the way he bites the inside of his cheek. In the way his pupils tremble slightly.
–"Do you know what the most important thing is in a punishment, y/n?"– Hannibal asks, taking something from the drawer next to the bookcase. You can't see what it is. –"It's not the pain. It's the lesson."
When he returns to your side, he shows you what he's holding: a small carved wooden box. He opens it with almost ritualistic delicacy. Inside are scalpels. Small, clean blades, arranged by size. Like pieces in a macabre game.
You struggle to breathe.
–"I'm not going to kill you"– he says with that chilling calm. –"I'm not even going to disfigure you. But I want you to remember. That every time you think about running away or attacking us, your body feels it before your mind."
Will takes a step forward. He kneels in front of you.
–"Let me do it"– he says. –"She knows me. She knows it'll hurt more if it's me."
And there it is again. That look of yours. That silent plea that does nothing. Because there are no heroes in this room.
Only two monsters.
And you. The girl who could never escape.
–"In these 8 months, you've tried to escape 4 times, Y/N"– he began, grabbing one of your hands and caressing the veins in your wrists –"our duty is to keep you safe and... for us."
Will cut the tendons in the hand he was holding. It hurt, it hurt so much, and you wanted to run away.
But you couldn't. They didn't amputate you. But you lost all ability to move your fingers, and therefore, you also lost all ability to run away.
-----------
Hi! Yes, I know it's been a while since I posted anything, and I wanted to apologize for that. I'll try to write more often.
Thanks for reading.
Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Requests are open. Leave me your request, and I will be happy to fulfill it.
Tw: obsession, abuse, dysfunctional family, bullying, misuse of magic and its negative consequences. I have nothing against the LGBT community (I'm actually bisexual). Suicidal tendencies, depression, apathy as a result of depression. Self-harm.
They'll be left wondering if the spell worked or not.
Muajajajaj *insert evil laugh*
=============
You were always obsessed with the entire Wayne family history and its connection to Gotham.
You fell head over heels when you saw Timothy Drake Wayne. Damn, you loved him so much. But your social skills were completely atrophied (you had no talent at making friends or partners).
You'd never had a partner for obvious reasons; you were unpopular, shy, and practically a bookworm. The complete opposite of your crush.
Tim was a genius, everyone knew it. But he was a good athlete, excellent at making friends and girlfriends.
Every time you looked at him, you melted with love. You believed you and he were soulmates, that it was only a matter of time before he approached you one day and declared his love in a poetic and intelligent way.
You had a great imagination, or rather, you had excessive daydreaming, which made your fictional scenarios seem too realistic. But to be honest, it was better to be in your fantasies than in the horrible real life.
Your house was a minefield. Your parents' marriage was a mess. Your mother discovered he also liked women, and she cheated on your father many times right in front of him. Your father wasn't a saint either; he was addicted to gambling. This meant the house was only supported by your mother's money, which only arrived occasionally, since she preferred to live in her girlfriend's apartment and forget about you and your father. But when your mother came to deliver groceries for the week, she and your father would argue, throwing things at each other, and insulting each other.
Once, during their weekly shouting matches, you heard your father tell your mother that if she didn't come more often, he would kill you and then himself. You thought your mother would care a little more about you, but you were very wrong. "Do it if you want, it doesn't matter," was what your mother said at the time.
Your school life wasn't any better either. Two years ago, your best friend Melissa had distanced herself from you when she found out about your parents' problem. Since then, she seemed to want everyone to hate you, since she constantly made fun of you and encouraged others to do the same.
Melissa was pretty, and after distancing herself from you, she joined the popular group of girls. You were happy for her. But you saw how those girls didn't treat her very well, so it bothered you to get them to like her.
Melissa would whisper a little "Sorry" the first few times before pushing you or throwing your lunch.
But a month later, he just harassed you and then left. Everything got worse when the others started harassing you too.
You couldn't do anything; you were an easy target. You were sensitive. You couldn't bathe every day either. Your clothes were old, and you sometimes wore your father's (your father couldn't always afford dry cleaning, only sometimes). You looked unkempt and ugly.
You preferred to ignore the teasing, the shoving that left your lunch on the floor, the tripping, and your broken school supplies.
But you could vent in the notebook you always carried with you where you wrote your fictional scenarios.
But one morning, some boys who wanted to impress Melissa took it from you.
–"What do you have here, little mouse?"– one of them mocked as he flipped through the pages. –"Oh, so Tiddy grabbed me by the waist and pushed me against the lockers. I loved him so much, even more when he told me I was the most important thing to him." Hahaha! How pathetic. Who's Tiddy? I bet you're making that up, since no one would look at you with that horrible face you have, since whoever wanted to fuck you would have to be blind and have lost their sense of smell."–
That was all it took for you to start crying. They threw the notebook at you after making fun of other things you had written and walked away laughing.
"Tiddy" was the nickname you made up for Tim. It was silly, yes. But you didn't expect anyone to read your notebook.
That day you returned home, planning to kill yourself in a few days. You had nothing, but one afternoon while surfing the internet on your old computer, you found a strange video.
"How to Attract the Boy You Like"
You had nothing to lose except the little dignity you had left. But you were already feeling so apathetic that you were no longer interested.
The "spell" was easy.
• Get his full name.
• Write it on a piece of paper.
• Make a strange symbol on the paper.
• Burn that paper while saying a prayer.
• Gather the ashes and mix them with honey, then put it on your tongue and kiss the person on the mouth.
It was all easy, but the last step would be very complicated.
You put the honey and ashes on your tongue before entering the classroom; classes hadn't even started yet. Tim was talking with his friends.
You sighed and touched his back. He turned around and smiled at you.
God.
His smile was beautiful, so bright. He always smiled at everyone, even you.
You felt special, confident. Then you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth.
It was small, barely a small brush, a small, delicate kiss.
There was an awkward silence, and Tim apologized before leaving.
The whole class fell silent, then one of Tim's potential girlfriends grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back, then pushed you against the empty tables.
You fell to the floor after hitting some tables.
Fucking gravity.
Then one of Tim's friends, the one who always bullied you, grabbed your backpack and searched it.
–"You're a whore then, fine. But you should smell better. How about something to perfume yourself?"
He took out your Tupperware of food, which was just boiled noodles with raw tomato sauce. He grabbed it with his hand and then smeared it on your face and hair.
–"It seems that's not enough. Does anyone else want to help?"
In short, the entire course was spent feeding you food, moving around, and trying to leave. But one of them punched you in the stomach. That afternoon, you arrived home very late because they also hit you on the way out.
Your father also hit you because you needed to shower, and that involved using water. More water bills, more electricity bills.
That week was so horrible that you preferred to spend more time in your fantasies. Your grades dropped, and you barely felt the blows or heard the screams.
You also didn't feel the pain of the cuts you made, which led you to make them deeper each time.
You had been so immersed in his world, staring into space, that you didn't notice what had changed.
Your room had few things, but something was always missing.
It started with the t-shirt you always wore because it was your favorite. But since it was already dirty, you left it in a corner. Then it was your pencil, the only one you had, and it was chewed up.
The list went on and on. All until one afternoon, you saw the famous Bruce Wayne. He looked at you, and you couldn't breathe.
What if he complained about what you did to his son? What if you were expelled from school?
Your entire school day was spent in fear, not because of your bullies, but because of the possibility of being on the blacklist of someone as rich and influential as the head of the Wayne family himself.
You gasped for air when the guidance counselor called you after school; you were about to faint.
But it turned out it was only to get a backpack with new supplies and quality notebooks.
Which barely lasted 20 minutes before your bullies set it on fire in front of you.
The following Monday, you saw that the school had been painted, had new tiles, better lockers, new desks and chairs, and, of course, high-tech whiteboards.
Bruce Wayne didn't come looking for you; he came to donate money.
You couldn't describe the peace you felt in that moment; it was so liberating.
–"Hello"
You froze in fear and turned around slowly. It was Tim standing behind you, with his beautiful, angelic smile.
–"Y/N, right?"
You nodded slowly, scared of what he might do to you. If he hung out with those who tortured you, what could you expect from him?
–"I was thinking... You're really good at history. Would you like to write a thesis with me next week?"
Your whole world fell apart. He was so kind, so sweet.
But you didn't feel that "love" for him anymore. He was just another person.
–"No..."– you shook your head and then left.
But Tim didn't stay there.
At lunch, he sat with you. You could tell all your bullies were gone.
But you felt like they could show up at any moment and tell you how pathetic you were.
You wanted to leave, but Tim grabbed your wrist and insisted that you stay. You held back the urge to cry as he squeezed your self-harm wounds.
You could only stare at your food and nod as he talked. He talked about so many things. He and you had so much in common. But you could only nod silently, waiting for him to say you were an idiot for thinking anyone would want to be with you.
But it wasn't like that. For two weeks, things continued the same way. Your bullies still didn't come, Tim talked to you more often, and you had some "peace."
But you noticed something that made you nervous: Tim smelled you. He smelled your greasy, dirty hair, and he smelled it when you were around him.
You couldn't understand how he could smell it without mentioning how disgusting you were and that you should take a shower.
But it wasn't like that.
You were able to get along with him, and your school life wasn't so bad anymore, until one afternoon, when you didn't want to go home early. Tim invited you to have ice cream, and you accepted.
–"Let's do your homework at my apartment. I have a surprise for you, okay?"
You didn't accept; you didn't trust him after everything that had happened.
He had tried everything; he had bought you some things, he had tried to make you trust him.
He'd killed everyone who bullied you, but you didn't know that.
And you definitely wouldn't know it yet.
But he didn't give up easily. He started to get closer to you; you could feel him watching you. But then one afternoon, as you were leaving school, he grabbed your arm.
–"Walk with me."
–"I-I don't want to..."– you whispered.
Tim just squeezed your arm even tighter and led you to his car. He practically threw you into the seat and put the seatbelt on you, which was too tight. You tried to get it out, but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't undo itself.
–"Tim... I don't like this"– you moaned, almost crying.
–"Don't cry, baby. I'll buy you some ice cream, okay?"– Just stay still, I don't want to have to hit you.
You were always someone who was very afraid of everything, and your reasons for having everything were valid. So when he parked in front of an ice cream shop, you tried to fight the seatbelt with all your strength.
–"Okay, no ice cream for you."
He grabbed the back of your neck and slammed your face against the dashboard of the car.
You didn't even feel like crying after that. You were very dizzy from the impact.
You didn't know how much time passed; you just felt Tim get out of the car and walk around it, then unbuckle you and take you out of the seatbelt.
He carried you like a child, your legs wrapped around his torso and your arms on his shoulders, which felt more toned than you thought. Your head was resting on his chest as he walked with you.
You felt yourself fall onto a bed. He said something you didn't understand, took off your shoes, and then you felt him unbuckle yours. Pants.
Your sweatshirt was next. You had nothing on underneath except your bra, so you felt the cold wind on your entire torso.
He climbed onto the bed and squatted over your torso, his legs on either side of you. Tim leaned in with a smile and began kissing your collarbone as he grabbed your wrists together and held them together over your chest with one hand while supporting himself with the other.
You let him continue, afraid to fight.
–"You don't know how much I love you."
That sentence made you shiver, then you remembered.
The spell.
Real or not, he was there, confessing his love for you.
You moaned a little when he sucked on a part of your neck, and you were sure he left a mark.
Tim pulled away and looked for something in the other room. He came back with a T-shirt and some athletic shorts.
He put them on so easily; you were docile because you were so scared.
When he finished, he settled in next to you and covered you both with the blankets.
He hugged you tightly and smelled your greasy, dirt-soaked hair all night.
You wouldn't know it, but he'd been after you for a long time; it wasn't because of the silly spell you cast.
He'd been obsessed ever since he saw how similar you were to a newborn puppy. He couldn't help but feel his heart clench every time he saw your wounds.
Your smell.
That also attracted him greatly. Although he sometimes got carried away by the pretty girls who approached him, he couldn't help but be drawn to your natural scent, that smell of your natural oil. That silly kiss you gave him was just the straw that broke the camel's back. He had to go straight to the bathroom so no one would see that idiotic smile of his. He had to leave so he wouldn't scream with excitement. He had to leave before anyone saw his next erection.
God, he could melt right now after smelling your hair.
And after killing his friends, after killing your parents and the teachers who never stood up for you, he couldn't help but feel deserving of a reward.
And that reward was you, darling.
You, him, and the long life you two would have together.
========
Thanks for reading.
Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Requests are open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.
The next one shorts will be about...
The second part of "Pierced Little Bird" (yandere bat family).
A sequel to "You're Mine, Habibi" by Damian Yandere.
Some main characters for this yandere fanfic by Tim Drake.
Do whatever you want 😏
Request some anonymously (please make requests, my life sucks 😭).
