#Murder Smoke and Shadows | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marcyvamp1re-blog · 19 days ago

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pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, tw.noncon, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had… had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I��ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

Take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing 's work and @klemen-tine 's work, be sure to check them out!

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columboscreens · 5 months ago

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#columbo #season 8 #murder smoke and shadows #you want this though #dog dirigible would be cute and handy for transportation

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spockvarietyhour · 2 years ago

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#Columbo #Peter Falk #Murder Smoke and Shadows #A Dog named Dog #doggo #Danny and Renae watch Columbo

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allthingsimagines · 8 months ago

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So It Goes…

“I’m yours to keep and I’m yours to lose. You know I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you, so it goes” - So It Goes… by Taylor Swift

Feyd-Rautha x Pregnant!Atreides!Reader

summary: What will happen when orders are given and it pits the two people you love most against one another?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: Feyd being very ooc

a/n: I woke up this morning and cranked this out because I couldn’t get it out of my head

The Freman had attacked in unprecedented numbers. They bombed the city, the whole building rattling violently from the attacks. You had been in the throne room as they broke into the palace. The room filled with smoke as the revered Muad’dib made his way in front of the Emperor.

Your husband, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, had kept you securely behind him the entire time. You clung to him like a shadow, holding the back of his tunic in one hand and your swollen stomach with the other. Muad’dib had made quick work of the disgusting Baron, which had left you feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.

You had prayed for the downfall of the Harkonnen’s since the moment they had murdered your entire family. They attacked with no warning and slaughtered everyone you had ever loved. You were the only survivor and the Baron took you to serve as a reminder of their great power. Certainly, you would have been dead in days if not for your husband’s possessive nature.

You had been promised to him since the day you were born as a show of peace between the families. When the Baron dragged you kicking and screaming back to Geidi Prime, Feyd had declared that you were his to do with as he pleased and no one would lay a hand on you. As humiliating as it was to be reduced to property by him, it was far better than whatever fate you would have had at the Baron’s hands.

Feyd-Rautha was a brutal man. He killed as he pleased and sent a wave of terror over every person he encountered. He had terrified you as well. He did not care for your feelings or desires. You were his wife now, and he could do as he pleased with you. One thing that you had not expected with Feyd was that despite his violent nature towards everyone else, it had never extended to you.

Perhaps it was the fact that he saw you as his to own, but it kept you safe and alive. You had not anticipated for love to bloom from your marriage to him, but you did love him in your own way. He would burn the world down for you and had killed anyone who had spoken ill of you. His brutal nature was alluring and you could not resist it.

He saw you as his property, but that changed once he started to see your own ambitions come to light. You wanted vengeance for your family and you silently plotted how best to take down the Baron. Feyd had thought you to be as meek as a mouse, but you were formidable indeed. You made quite the pair and the people of Geidi Prime adored their na-Baron and na-Baroness. What they didn’t know is that the two of you had been plotting how to take out the Baron for months to take control of the planet.

Seeing the Baron die had drove you to tears. People around you suspected it was because he was family or from the brutality of the kill as he bled out on the steps of the throne. You cried tears of relief for all that he had done to your family and to your husband.

You hardly even registered anything else that had happened in that throne room as you tried to pull yourself together. The Muad’dib then sent all of you to your rooms to be held as prisoners.

You only hoped he would spare you and your husband because of your condition. You were six months pregnant with a daughter and you couldn’t have been more nervous of what would come next.

You prayed the Emperor would die, along with the Reverend Mother that had plotted alongside him. She had hated your family since the day you and Paul were born. Your mother was only supposed to have a daughter and she had broke that promise. Paul had held all of the power the Bene Gesserit looked for in daughters. While you were still trained by your mother to use the voice, you never were anywhere close to what abilities Paul had.

Now, you hoped that evil woman would pay for all she had done.

“Wife.”

You looked over from your spot on the bed only to find Feyd moving towards you at a hurried pace. Your heart rate increased at his tense form, “Yes, husband?”

“They’re calling all prisoners. You will stay by my side, understand?” Feyd said as you stood from your place to meet him.

His hand reached out to hold the side of your face while the other was splayed over your bump. You nodded and placed your hand over his own, “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything darling,” He said, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone.

“Don’t get yourself killed. I need you to try to stay out of whatever conflict arises. We need you Feyd,” You said with a shaky voice.

Feyd pressed his lips hungrily to yours and you moaned against them. He pulled away, leaving you breathless as he spoke, “No man will kill me today.”

A loud banging came from outside your door and Feyd let out a growl of annoyance. He pulled away and took your hand in his own as he led you out of the room, your ladies fearfully following behind. You followed Feyd out of the room and were met with Freman soldiers, who all tensed at the sight of your husband. You clutched onto Feyd’s hand tighter as the guards led you behind the Emperor, Princess Irulan, and the Bene Gesserit.

The guards opened the large doors to the room and you all followed in. You stuck close to Feyd’s side as you took in all of the Freman soldiers that surrounded the room. You stood in the middle of the crowd as Feyd stood slightly in front of you for protection.

“There is a mass armada in orbit. You’re facing a full invasion Freman,” the Emperor spoke as he came to a stop with the General’s signal.

The Muad’dib stood in the middle of the room facing away from you. You narrowed your eyes on his figure as he looked familiar to you.

“How can you be so sure the great houses are here for me? They might be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” the Muad’dib spoke before turning around to face the Emperor.

It was him. He was alive despite all of the odds. Paul.

You stepped forward without thinking as your eyes welled with tears at the sight of your brother. Once Feyd realized who he was he followed after you as you made your way to the front. Feyd kept his hand securely around your middle as you moved through the crowd.

“I am Paul Atreides. Son of Leto Atreides. Duke of Arrakis,” he spoke, but your brain could hardly register the words being spoke as you tried to get to him.

“Gurney, send a warning to all the ships. If the great houses attack, our atomics will bomb all of the spice fields.”

Your eyes widened as they found Gurney Halleck following Paul’s command. You couldn’t stop your tears as another one of your family members was alive.

“Are you out of your mind?” the Emperor said in shock as you made your way to the front.

“Consider what you’re about to do Paul Atreides,” the Reverend Mother said.

“Silence!” Paul shouted with the voice and you heard her fall to the ground.

Before anything else could be said or done, you pushed past a few of the nobles at the front to get a good look at your brother. You squeezed Feyd’s hand as he stood close behind you, “Paul.”

Paul’s eyes snapped to you and you saw his whole body tense. The room was silent as he stepped towards you in shock, “Sister?”

You let out a choked sob as you dropped Feyd’s hand and rushed towards your brother. He pulled you into a tight hug and you clutched onto him like a life line. He pulled away and you took a good look at your brother. His eyes were blue now from the spice and he looked much older than he did when you saw him last.

“I can’t believe you’re alive. How did you-“ you started, but Paul cut you off.

“Mother and I escaped. In all of my visions I never saw you alive, how are you here?” He asked, but all you heard was the fact that your mother was alive.

Your eyes darted around the room, but your eyes settled on the one woman of power in the room. Your mother stood next to Gurney, her hand planted on her own swollen stomach as she watched the two of you interact. She was dressed like a Mother Reverend would be, and based off of her new appearance and the group surrounding her you suspected that was right.

You pulled away from Paul and tearfully let go of him as you hurried to your mother. Lady Jessica pulled you into a tight embrace and held you close to her body.

“Mother, I missed you,” you said into her shoulder as she rubbed your back in the comforting way she had when you were a child.

You pulled away and both of you looked at your swollen stomachs before meeting eyes again. She placed her hand on yours and let out a soft sigh, “You survived, just like I taught you.”

You nodded, without all of her preparation when you were younger you certainly would have died. You looked over to find Gurney giving you a proud look that was filled with more emotion than you’d ever seen from him. You reached forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before quickly pulling back, “It’s good to see you again, old man.”

Gurney chuckled and opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Paul. “My own sister lives as a testament to our family’s strength. She is Y/N Atreides!”

The Freman cheered, but you only tensed as you stepped away from Gurney and your mother. Your husband would not keep his mouth shut at that. You were his wife after all.

“She is no longer an Atreides. She is Y/N Harkonnen now,” your husband spoke as you saw Paul’s eyes turn to him, filled with anger.

You quickly crossed the room and stood in front of your husband to defend him from Paul. The two had always hated each other and now it was at an all time high.

Paul watched as Feyd’s hand wrapped around your pregnant stomach securely, and you leaned back into his hold. Paul took a shaky breath to try to control his rage as you grabbed Feyd’s hand atop your stomach, “If he hadn’t married me, I would have died at the Baron’s hands months ago. He is the only reason I am still alive.”

Paul bit his lip to contain his own anger and turned to the Emperor as the two began shouting at one another. You let out a shaky breath as you tried to collect yourself. Feyd’s hand rubbed a gentle circle on your stomach as your daughter kicked against it.

You looked back at him and he moved his hand to your face. He gently wiped your tears and you pressed a kiss to his palm. You turned your attention back to Paul as he declared he would marry Princess Irulan.

“But you have to answer for what you did to my father,” Paul growled out as he stared down the Emperor.

“Do you know why I did it? It was because he was a man who believed in rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule. In other words, your father was a weak man,” he spoke and the room sat in a tense silence as your anger bubbled.

Your father was not weak for loving your family. He was a strong man whose love for your family lasted until his dying day.

“Stand or choose your champion,” Paul said, his strength unwavering.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I choose him as my champion,” the Emperor spoke.

Your heart seized at his words and you looked up to meet your husband’s eyes, but they were set on the Emperor. He stepped away from you to follow the command, but you reached out to snag his hand.

“Feyd, you cannot do this. He is my brother,” you begged as he kept his eyes forward.

“I do not turn down fights, darling,” he said walking towards the Emperor to get his blade.

Gurney handed Paul a blade and he quickly took a fighting stance on the opposite side of the room. Feyd took the blade and moved to ready himself. You went to go to Feyd, but the Freman soldiers blocked your path. You glared in anger at them, “This is ridiculous! Feyd, don’t do this.”

Feyd kept his eyes forward on Paul as the two took their positions. Paul met your eyes before he looked back at Feyd and held his blade up just like Duncan always had before a fight, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”

Feyd turned his head to find your horrified look before turning back to Paul. He smirked before he repeated the phrase, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”

Then the fight began. The two fought brutally against one another and you could have been sick at the sight. You called out for them to stop, but they continued their violent dance. You looked over at the Emperor to find him watching with a pleasant look on his face. You growled as you moved towards him, “This is madness! Call off the fight!”

The sounds of swords clashing rang in your ears as you stared the old man down. He gave you an annoyed look before turning back to the fight, “Quiet woman.”

Your anger spiked and you opened your mouth to speak, but your head snapped to the fight as you found Paul on top of Feyd with his blade in his shoulder. Your mouth opened in horror as Feyd pushed Paul off of him and ripped the dagger out.

You turned to the Emperor to try to convince him, but an arm wrapped around your throat. The Emperor tightened his arm on your throat as you thrashed against him, “If they want to keep you alive, they’ll finish the fight.”

You fought against his hold, but quickly stopped as he pressed a blade to your stomach. You froze in his hold as your mother called out, “Paul! Feyd-Rautha!”

Paul turned his head to see what was the interruption only to find the Emperor holding you tightly to him. Feyd turned and his whole body filled with rage. The two men stepped away from one another and you smirked, “Now you’ve done it.”

The Emperor hated the look the men’s eyes as they made their way towards him. He tightened his hold on your throat and you grimaced, “Done what?”

Feyd was the angriest you’d ever seen him and Paul wasn’t much different, “You’ve united them in a common cause.”

The two men came towards you and everyone backed away. The Emperor pressed the knife harder against your stomach and you gasped in pain.

Feyd was filled with the urge to commit unspeakable violence at the sight of the Emperor holding a blade to his pregnant wife. You met Feyd’s eyes and tried to calm yourself down.

“I was willing to spare your life, but now you’ve threatened my sister,” Paul said, holding his blade up to the Emperor.

“Release my wife and I will make your death quick,” Feyd growled out as he stepped closer.

“You will continue the fight if you want her to live. I command it!” the Emperor shouted and pressed his arm tighter against your throat.

You gasped for air and Paul was quick to use the voice, “Release her!”

The Emperor quickly dropped the blade and let you go. You stumbled away from him, but before anyone else could act you snatched the blade from the floor and drove it into his stomach.

The Emperor gasped out in pain and stumbled as you drove the knife deeper. You met his pained eyes and glared, “For House Atreides.”

You drove the knife up higher into his stomach one last time before you stepped away and he fell to the floor. His daughter dropped to his side as he took his final breath and you turned back to face Paul. You steeled your nerves and met his eyes before you kneeled before him, “Emperor Paul Atreides.”

You heard everyone in the room kneel and your husband dropped to your side. You kept your eyes on the floor, but you reached over to grab his hand. Feyd squeezed your hand in his own as he stayed at your side. Paul began giving directions and everyone rose to their feet.

Feyd pulled you to your feet and was quick to pull you close to him. His eyes raked over your body as he scanned for any sign of injury. He took your face in his hands and met your eyes. You could tell he was furious at what had occurred as he inspected you.

“Are you hurt?” he growled out as he noticed the redness on your neck.

You placed your hands over his and let out a shaky breath, “I’m okay. We’re both okay Feyd.”

He nodded and moved to place a hand on your stomach protectively. He shakily sighed before giving you a proud look, “You did well there, I wasn’t sure if you would be able to do it.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch, “I did it out of love for my family. That includes you and our daughter, my love.”

A proud smirk appeared on his face, “You should kill more often. You look alluring when you do.”

Shaking your head at your husband, you spoke, “I’ll leave the violence to you, husband. I have other ways of gaining your attention.”

Feyd smirked before pulling you into a deep kiss. You groaned in response as you pulled yourself as close as you could to him with your bump in the way. You both pulled away and he brushed some stray hair from your face.

“Feyd-Rautha.”

You both turned to face your brother, the new Emperor, as he stood in front of you with Gurney at his side. The room was full of commotion as people began to shout and head out.

“We’re taking the fight to the great houses. Can I trust that you will keep my sister safe while I am away?” Paul asked, doing his best to bridge the wedge between them.

You looked between them as Feyd contemplated his words. Feyd looked down at you and let out a sigh before looking back to Paul.

“I will gladly give my life to keep her and our daughter safe,” he declared as he returned your brother’s intense stare.

Paul reached his arm out and Feyd reached forward and clasped it. The two stood staring at each other before Feyd said, “Good luck Atreides.”

They dropped each other’s arms and Paul gave you a nod before he headed off to lead the charge. You let out a nervous sigh, but leaned into Feyd’s hold.

“You couldn’t call him Emperor?” You asked with a teasing lilt to your voice as you leaned against Feyd’s chest.

“Now what would be the fun in that?” he asked and you shook your head at him as he rubbed gentle circles on your waist.

“Will we be alright? The Imperium is going to be after all of us after today. Especially me, since it was my hand who killed the Emperor,” you asked and his hold tightened on you.

Feyd guided your chin up to meet his eyes. He looked like a man ready for battle with how intense he was looking at you, “You are my wife. If any one dares to try to lay a hand on you again or our daughter, they will wish they were dead when I get my hands on them.”

You let out a sigh as his violent words felt incredibly reassuring. You softly kissed him once more and smiled up at him, “Good. That was exactly what I hoped you would say.”

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #dune part two #dune x reader #dune x you #Feyd-rautha x reader #Feyd-rautha x pregnant!reader #dune x pregnant! reader #feyd x you #feyd imagine #dune

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 1 month ago

Text

“𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥” - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15k

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️ warnings contain spoilers ⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart! Reader isn't from the OBX. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She's a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She's hard to read regarding her sexual experience-her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn't pay their way out of.

Reader’s POV:

You wrap your towel around your wet hair, twisting it in place before gathering your toiletries, stepping toward the door into the night. It’s late as hell, the camp almost completely dark, but you needed to wash the night off you.

You hike through the clearing, following the path from the shower house to the sidewalk, returning to your bunk. All of the lights in Rafe’s cabin are off; a part of you hoping that the light would be on so you could stop by and apologize for leaving things the way you did… He was right. In the morning, he’d gone. Nothing would be resolved. The two of you would go separate ways until you ran into each other in the fall. But maybe that’s for the best.

SNAP.

Your head turns on a swivel, looking into the woods. A squirrel hops out of a tree onto the grass, bounding into the darkness. The little spike in your heart rate falls almost as fast as it rose.

SNAP.

There’s another crack, leaves rustle in the distance. Your heart starts to pick up speed again as you try your best to concentrate on your surroundings, but it’s so dark. You shine your flashlight toward the path of the sound, watching as a shadow shifts in the trees. “Hello?” Your voice comes out small and feeble. It’s Rafe… It’s gotta be. Maybe JJ? Assholes. “Ha. Ha.” You fake a laugh, tone dripping with disgust.

You look toward Rafe’s cabin, now lit. Rafe walks past the window with a beer, passing it to Kelce. Your heart starts to pick up pace again as you become more and more conscious of the sounds around you, each seemingly more threatening than the last. You scream bloody murder as a big figure moves past you fast in the direction of safety, leading you to flee in the opposite direction.

You sprint into the woods, branches whipping against your face and body as you maneuver from whatever terrors are behind you. Your lungs burn as you race faster than ever, stumbling and clinging to trees as you do your best to stay on your feet. “HELP ME!” You shriek as you cut to the left, racing along the woods on the backside of the cabins toward your own bunk. “HELP ME. PLEASE.”

You can hear the pounding of feet against the earth behind you, too terrified to look back, knowing that if you do, you’ll lose ground. Panic courses through your system as the noises around you get louder and louder. Just a little further.

You tumble over the brush onto the land below, hitting the forest floor with a bang. You look back for a second, catching the shadow of a towering figure, making it all that more real. He walks toward you as you claw your way to your feet, struggling through the damp ground, blundering to stand. You feel a hand slam against your back, grabbing your arm as well, jerking you the rest of the way to your feet.

“Rafe!” You gasp.

“We gotta get somewhere safe,” he whispers sharply as he takes his hand in yours, dragging you toward your cabin. You glance over your shoulder, looking back to the woods, watching the shadow of the man unmoved. “C’mon,” he pleads for you to move faster, dragging you through the woods toward your bunk.

“Why are you out here?” You pant.

“I saw you,” he huffs. “I saw you walkin’ back from the showers at night by yourself. Are you fuckin’ crazy?” He scolds. “Then I heard you screamin’. There’s someone in the fuckin’ woods. He grabs the door to your cabin, pulling it open before slamming it shut, throwing the lock closed, shoving a chair under the handle. “Where the hell are Zoey and Laura?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fuckin’ know,” you panic, the two of you fall to the old wooden floor, scurrying against the wall, falling out of sight. Your heart continues to pound in your chest, anxiety and fear, making it impossible to think clearly. Rafe looks down at you, clasping your hand in his.

“It’ll be alright. Okay?”

You pinch your eyes shut, nodding fast. “Do you think it was JJ? It had to be-”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he whispers.

“What? I said ‘do you think it was JJ?’”

“Probably… I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he tries again.

“It’s fine,” you answer quickly, knowing he wants more from you.

“It’s not fine-”

“Rafe! We can’t do this right now. Are you fucking kidding me? There’s someone in the woods chasin’ us, and you want to talk about us. Are you serious right now?” Rafe takes a deep breath, running his hand through his bangs, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to comply with your wishes but he just can’t.

“It’s important.”

Your eyes tighten on his; your fear shifting to anger as well. “You’ve had months to talk to me, Rafe, and you chose right now to have another heart-to-heart?”

“I need you to understand how I feel.” His voice wavers.

“You're unbelievable.”

“Ya know what. Fine,” he huffs, through hurt feelings. You look back at him in disbelief, shaking your head. Crawling to your knees, you lift the curtain, staring down the line of cabins—everything’s still. “Y/n…”

“Fuck, Rafe! What?” You snap in annoyance as you reach for your toiletry bag, fishing out your walkie-talkie.

“STOP!” He gasps, resting his hand on it, stopping you.

“Why? I need to make sure everyone else is okay. I need to know if it was JJ or not.” Rafe keeps his hand on top of yours, looking back at you shamefully before hanging his head. No… Your anger builds as you look at him, the man too guilty to even make eye contact. “You didn’t…”

“I’m sorry…” He whispers. ”It was Topper. Okay? I’m sorry.”

“RAFE, LOOK AT ME,” you scream, showing him your body covered in dirt and gashes. “I could have gotten really hurt. If I had a weapon, I would have killed Topper. Why would you do this?”

He takes a deep breath. The weight of your questions all valid; his behavior inexcusable yet again, and he knows it. “You weren’t gonna fuckin’ talk to me. You weren’t gonna let me be alone with you. You were done with me. I just wanted to get you alone. Zoey and Laura are fine. Okay? I paid ‘em a hundred bucks each to hang out at the cabin with the boys.”

”They’re in on it too?” You ask disgustedly.

“No. Fuck, just me and the boys. I told Zoey I wanted a night alone with you and that Topper and Kelce were sad saps with no fuckin’ game. Okay? They think they’re doin’ us a favor. Nothin’ more.”

“A favor,” you laugh ailingly, looking back at him in disbelief.

“I needed to get you alone. I needed you to listen.”

“And you thought terrorizing me first was the best way to do it? I was looking at your cabin. I was walking down from the showers looking for a light in your bunk so I could apologize to you for how I left things… You know. LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

“I’m sorry,” he blubbers.

“‘I’m sorry. I’m SO sorry. I'm fucking sorry, y/n.’” You mock him, at your wit’s end. “Why can’t you just act normally? Huh? Why couldn’t you just apologize to me before? Why did you have to terrorize me all fuckin’ year? Why couldn’t you have just used your goddamn words for something good? What kind of logic led you to this, Rafe?”

“Stop, please. Just stop yellin’ at me. I’m just fuck— I’m sorry.”

“Stop yelling at you? Fuck you! I have every right to yell at you. You know what a dick you are?” You scream, your voice rising as you stand up, backing away from him, heart pounding. He stands with you, arms up, trying to calm you down, but you're too upset.

“Stop, sweetheart,” he pleads as he reaches for you.

“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, Rafe? Bitch, whore, slut, priss, prude. Those are just some of the names you’ve called me TODAY and now I'm sweetheart?”

He grabs you and you fight against him, trying to break out of his grasp, shoving and banging on his chest as tears flood your eyes. “Stop, baby. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry. Stop,” he whispers, his voice soft and coarse, an undercurrent of pleading flowing beneath. He's not giving in, unwilling to let go, still letting you get your jabs in.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“No. I'm not gonna let you go.”

“FUCK!”

You stop completely, hiccuping and battling for breath. Your eyes lift open, face to face with Rafe, chests rising and falling together. Your muscles soften, shoulders falling; Rafe wraps his big arms around you, hearts banging against each other. Rafe turns his head, the warmth of words ghosting across your sweat-glassed skin. “Please listen to me. I swear I'll leave you alone,” he whispers, his words tight with sentiment. You tilt back, looking for his face. Rafe lowers himself to his knees in front of you submissively. “M’begging you… Just let me explain myself. Just let me apologize, princess. I don't deserve anymore of your time, but I'm begging you for it.” His eyes sparkle with tears as he continues to plead wordlessly for your forgiveness. His eyes shut, tears tumbling down his flushed cheeks as his chin quivers.

Rafe… Him leaving me alone is the last thing I want.

Leaning down you claim his lips, kissing him soft and sweet, shattering the tension. Rafe’s eyes flutter open, completely caught off guard before they close again. You reach out, wiping your thumbs across his cheeks as you cup his face, catching his tears. For the first time in months, the weight has lifted. Rafe wraps his arms around you, standing up again, his large hands grab your waist, trembling slightly. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, hoping you’ll speak. You exhale slowly as you realize just how much you needed that…

“I’m listening,” you whisper, barely above a breath.

His eyes swell with a storm of emotions—pain, shame, and that bitterness he’s been carrying for months. “Thank you…” He says, his voice trembling with feelings. “ I - I tried to move on. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s like… nothing works anymore. I’ve been depressed—ever since I lost you. Being with other people used to help, distract me… but not anymore. Nothing helps. I got so angry, really fuckin’ angry because I kept telling myself I could get over it. But all I’ve done is watch you from a distance, and it’s driving me crazy. It makes me hate myself because I’m the one who messed it all up. I pushed you away, and now… Now, I’m paying for it.” His frustration and sadness pours out in a confession that’s been held for too long; it breaks something inside you, too, hearing how upset he is. He’s not angry at anyone but himself, consumed by shame and fear; clashing with the reality that it might be too late to fix anything.

He pulls you closer, expecting you to tug away, but you don’t. “I’m bad at this. Alright? I don’t know how to tell people how I feel. I don’t know how to act. I'm selfish, y/n. I'm an awful fuckin’ person. I don’t deserve you. I know that. But I cannot stop thinkin’ about you. It makes me so mad that you are so deep in my head. I was tryin’ my best to leave you alone all year, pushing you away by bein’ a complete ass. Why would you want to be with someone who treats you like shit? I like you… Way too fuckin’ much. N’I haven’t been with anyone since I lost you. I'm not gonna lie to you I tried but it just wasn't working. I'm the worst version on myself, y/n. And, that's really fuckin’ bad.” You look back at him as tears pool in your eyes, completely overwhelmed yourself, still not over the mess in the woods or the truths leaving Rafe’s lips.

“What did you think was gonna happen, Rafe?” You ask shakily. “You were gonna scare me to death, save me, and everything would be okay?”

He bites his cheek, brows pinched together as he hears just how ridiculous that sounds. “I mean… Yeah. That’s exactly what I was hopin’ would happen,” he sighs. “Maybe you’d stop hatin’ me and see how much I care. I don’t fuckin’ know. Didn't think that far ahead. I was fuckin’ desperate, y/n,” he sighs.

“You wanna know what you could have done, Rafe?” You mumble as he looks up at you with puffy, tear-filled eyes, making your heart melt at the pitiful man. “You could have just stayed for the rest of the summer and tried to make it work. Earned my trust. Stopped being such a fuckin’ dick.” He hangs his head and nods, taking in every word.

Rafe breathes deeply, holding in his breath before pressing it out nice and slow. ”I hate it here. You know?” He mutters.

“We all know.”

“I’d do it for you… But fuck, this place sucks,” he sighs tiredly.

“Why did you choose this instead of doing something else? Why here?”

“You remember when we went to breakfast at that shitty diner downtown?”

“Mhmm…”

“Well, I remember you tellin’ me that you came here every summer. And when the dean asked me where I wanted to complete my probation hours, it was an easy choice.” You reach over, caressing his bruised, tear-soaked cheek in your hand. He melts into your touch, his beautiful blue eyes opening on yours. “Every time I spit that bullshit, it was just that—all the mean things I threw at you, it was all a lie. I didn’t mean any of it.” He swallows hard, his thumbs brushing lightly over your fingers as if he still can’t believe you're letting him speak. “I never stopped wanting you,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I said some awful shit to you.”

“You did.”

“I did…” He mumbles pathetically, his eyes glass over like he’s recalling each one. “You were right; that night, you told me I was a boy, not a man. I’ve been actin’ like that since. I’ll work on it, I swear. I'm just sorry-”

“I forgive you,” you stop him in a gentle tone, whispering those three words he was hoping you’d say. Rafe stares at you in disbelief, letting it sink in.

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, hoping you won’t agree again, knowing it’s not what he deserves. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done apologizing.” Rafe leans in this time, pressing another kiss against your lips. “So… Am I stealin’ you from, Heyward?” He asks, already knowing the answer. You shake your head ‘no,’ making him smile.

“Just tryin’ to make you jealous,” you admit.

“It worked,” he answers quickly. “It worked a little too well.”

You sigh, anger fading as you look back at the beautiful man before you. “Are you gonna stay?” You ask. Rafe grabs your hand, kissing your palm, basking in your request.

“‘Course I’ll stay. It might kill me, though,” he laughs weakly.

“You might enjoy it a little more now,” you smile as you step a little closer, feeling your body warm up.

“Why’s that?” Rafe asks coyly as he tilts his head, giving you a look that has you all but falling to your knees.

“Guess we’ll see how the night goes.”

“Yeah?” He asks surprisedly.

“Mhmm…”

“Well, damn…. You don’t really hate me. Do you?”

“I hated how you were acting, but I’ve never hated you, Rafe.”

“Never ever,” He asks, his voice deep, just a little playful, making the two of you smile as you both push closer and closer.

”Never…” You whisper against his lips, feeling him smile against yours.

“What about five minutes ago? You were pretty mad, princess.”

“That was mean, Rafe Cameron.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “You still think I’m a pussy?” Rafe asks as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Depends…”

“Depends, baby? What the hell?” He drawls with a husky laugh as he puts his large hand on your thigh, squeezing tight.

“Are you gonna take what you want-”

Rafe’s lips crash into yours as you give him the green light. The two of you ripping off clothes between deep, heated kisses until all that’s left is your skin against his. Rafe pulls you into his lap, slowing down the pace enough to savor your kiss just like he did the first night you were together, making it that much sweeter.

He wraps his big arms around you tightly, laying you down on the bed. “Oh shit,” he gasps, letting out a lusty laugh as you roll yourself on top, straddling his lap, bearding your weight on your hands, pressed against his firm chest. His heart races underneath as he looks up at you in awe, holding your hips in his large hands, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, following your movements as you grind your wet pussy on his hard dick. “You a virgin?” The question lingers in the air, raw and vulnerable as you hesitate, unsure how to answer. Before you can say a word, his expression changes—something dark flickers across light eyes. His jaw tightens, Rafe shakes his head, pulling back slightly as if the very thought is unbearable “I can’t hear it. I can’t handle it,” he sighs. “I don’t even know why I asked. Just the thought of you with someone else, it—it kills me. I can’t stand it. No one existed before me. Understand?” He huffs, his word fading to a deep moan as you move your hand between your thighs, wrapping your fingers around his thick dick, tilting your body closer.

You breathe against his mouth as you stroke his long length nice and slow. “That goes for you too, Rafe. And after…” His eyes roll back as you feed his possessive side. A deep, gravelly moan thunders in his throat as you kiss along his jawline.

“There’s no one before or after, baby. You're mine.” Rafe’s head falls deeper into the pillow, giving you access to his skin, your lips taking purchase of his neck, kissing lower and lower, his muscles tightening under your soft touches. You tease him with the tip of your tongue, tracing his deep v-line as you work your way between his thighs, finally getting a good look at his rock-hard cock; pussy pulsing, body aching to be stuffed full of him.

You wrap your fingers around his dick, holding him straight, licking along the side of his dick, making him moan needily. Your tongue travels across his hard skin, exploring every inch, taunting him some more. He grips your hair suddenly, making you gasp, goosebumps fanning across his thick thighs. You flick your eyes at him, catching his rapid breathing.

"Y/n... Please," he begs, causing a smirk to stretch across your lips.

“After all that teasing, Rafey, you don’t think you deserve some of that treatment,” you mock.

A little trail of precum rolls down the side of his heavy cock, making your mouth water. You trace the trail of his vein, making him shudder out a breath. “You’re bullying me…” He pouts as he shakes his head and smiles, the man on cloud nine, as you kiss and suck on his head sloppily. “N’you’re tellin’ me I coulda had these pretty lips wrapped around my dick for the last year,” he lauds as you rub his tip against your pillowy lips, his swollen head sheened with spit.

Rafe rests his big hands on the top of your head, scratching his rough fingertips in your hair, causing your eyes to fall shut. You take his cue, wrapping your lips around him, taking him inch by inch. "Yeah, baby. Just like that," he groans. Rafe guides you, stroking his cock with your mouth, pitching his hips, driving his tip to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You suck in your cheeks, keeping your lips tight around his thick cock, feeling a slight ache in your jaw as you bob up and down. “Ugh, shit - Mmphf… You’re so fuckin’ good at suckin’ dick. Fucking hell,” he praises.

You add your hand, working him closer and closer to his peak. Your wrist moves in tandem with your mouth, laboring messily, thoroughly coating his cock with your saliva, slurping and squelching, making his toes curl with each stroke of your fist. Praise falls from his lips as he mutters incoherently, trying to keep his eyes on yours.

Rafe’s grip on your hair tightens as a husky moan releases from his lips. You take him deep in your throat before sucking back to his tip, pulling a pathetic whimper from his mouth as he looks back at you, watching as tears roll down your cheeks. Rafe reaches out, brushing them away with his thumb before sucking it clean as you stroke his cock in your hand. "Fuck you look good, princess, Mmm... Gonna cum-”

"Where do you want it," you whisper warmly against his throbbing dick.

"Mouth… Fuck, I wanna cum in that pretty fuckin’ mouth," he pleads as your lips circle him again, spit seeping down to his balls. The sensation and pleasure of it all sends him over the edge. Rafe’s toned hips jolt upwards, thighs trembling and flexing tightly. “Fuckk, y/n,” he moans as his sticky load paints the back of your throat. His eyes pinch shut, cock throbbing on your tongue as you milk out his last bits of pleasure. You draw your lips off him slowly, Rafe’s big body melting into your bed. "Co’mere, princess," he whispers drunkenly, sighing as you slink higher, working toward his lips. “You’re my girl,” he mumbles between kisses. “My fuckin’ girl.”

"M’Yours, Rafe,” you whisper, kissing deeply.

“No more makin’ me jealous. Aight? Makes me fuckin’ crazy.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckle breathily, rubbing your thumb across his bruised cheek.

“Honestly, it scares me how much I like you, y/n. Thinking about anyone else getting to be with you, getting that… Fuck, baby. It’s too much to think about. That was so much better than I imagined…” You lean down, kissing him nice and slow, tasting a slight tinge of blood from his split lip. He hums against your lips, taking in the sweetness of your chapstick and the taste of himself lingering as well.

“You think about me?”

“All the time. Thought about you suckin’ my dick way too much,” he laughs as he rubs his hands over his eyes. "Are you gonna let me take care of you, princess?" You bite your lip and nod as Rafe rolls you to your back, staring down at you with lust-filled eyes, the damp fringe of his bangs skimming his forehead. He leans down for a kiss, claiming your mouth; his tongue works between your lips, reeling slow.

Rafe leaves your kiss, working toward your jaw, sucking along your neck, making you moan. "You make some pretty sweet sounds, y/n," he sighs as he moves to your chest, kissing and nipping at your skin. “Bet you’re pussy’s even sweeter.” His mouth makes its way over to your nipple, tracing and flicking, blowing lightly, making your back arch off the mattress of the small bunk.

Goosebumps spread across your skin as he works lower, following the curve of your waist with his rough fingers. Rafe lowers himself, landing between your thighs, nearing your cunt with a smile. "Shit, y/n," he pants as his hand grazes your pussy, running his large fingers through your slick folds. You purr at his touch. "So fuckin' wet for me," he rasps. You gasp as he hooks your legs in his big biceps, pulling you close.

“I-” You feel your heart start to race again as Rafe licks a line up your slit, circling softly when he reaches your clit. “I - shit. I haven’t done this before.”

Rafe moans into your pussy at the sound of your admittance. Your thighs draw in, squeezing his broad shoulders. He gropes your legs, pushing you against the mattress, looking up at you with a fire in his eyes. “Never?” He asks curiously. You shake your head ‘no’, staring back at him with doll-like eyes that has him yearning to corrupt you in any way he can.

“No. I just haven’t done this…”

“Saving it for me. Huh?” He toys as he kisses down the inside of your thighs, nibbling at your sensitive skin, making you mewl. The warmth of his breath hits your soaked core, making you whimper at the new sensation. Rafe’s tongue hits you again, brushing from side to side. You wiggle away slightly; your sensitivity at an all-time high but Rafe doesn't let up, curling his arms tighter, pulling you even closer than before.

"Fuck, Rafe," you pant.

"Mmm... Look at you. Takin’ my mouth so well, princess. Feels good. Huh?" He hums as he works a little lower, spitting on your pussy, teasing your entrance with his tongue.

"So good," you weep, bucking your hips. His nose brushes against your clit; tongue slipping in and out. Your thighs start to tremble. "Oh, Rafe... So—So fucking good,” you babble as he licks a stripe up your silk, landing on your clit again. You glance down, meeting his eyes, his half-lidded stare brimming with pleasure, pussy-drunk off your taste. He plunges two thick fingers in your entrance, making you cry out.

"Such a good little slut for me,” he burns, fucking you with his digits.

"Yes. Fuck!"

"Say it."

"I'm a good — oh.”

"Say it, princess. You don’t want me to stop. Do you?” He bullies.

“If you stop— Fuck. If you stop…” He robs you of your words completely as he sucks down on your clit.

“If I stop. What? You threatenin’ me?” He mumbles against your drenched cunt, giving you a sleazy laugh before slapping your pussy.

"Fuck! I'm a little slut for-” Rafe cuts you off yet again with two curled fingers, hitting that special spot. You feel yourself tightening around his hand as you near your bliss.

"For who, now? Loss for words, princess?"

"Shit," you snivel. “S-Stop teasing me, or I'm not gonna let you fuck me. How does that sound?”

"Oh shit. Yeah? Really? Fuck, princess… You - You want to? You want that?" He asks in a barrage of words, his tone needy and charged with desperation. He replaces his tongue with his thumb, fingers thrusting wildly.

"Yes! Yes, Rafe," you squeal as you cum for him, clenching around his big fingers. You soak his hand and the sheet below, back arching as Rafe continues to please you, applying firm pressure, bottoming you out with his hand.

"That’s my girl," he praises as he watches you writhe in pleasure. You relax around him, fighting for a breath. Rafe draws his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean, tasting your essence. "Mmm... Fuck me," he groans as his eyes roll back.

Rafe pulls you into his chest, holding you close as you come down from your high, kissing your neck, your cheeks, your lips, anywhere and everywhere he can reach “How was that, y/n?” He smiles against your kiss. “Think you’d wanna do that again?” He brushes your hair off your dewy skin, kissing your forehead and the tip of your nose before meeting your lips as you come down from your high.

“You can’t leave. Please promise me you’ll stay,” you plead through panting breaths, making him chuckle and smile.

“Goddamn… That good. Huh?”

“So good. Oh my god,” you mumble as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. You look at him, giving him a smile that has him melting.

“Can’t believe I treated you so bad. I’m gonna make it up to you. I promise. How could I treat someone so fuckin’ perfect like I did? Huh?” He mutters as he kisses your neck and chest.

”Not sure,” you whisper, feeling butterflies in your stomach as his eyes flick to yours, hanging on to every word. “But, you can start makin’ it better.”

“Mhmm… I caught that little threat,” he breathes, his smile heard in his low tone. “Were you serious or just fuckin’ with me? That's cruel. But, I’d deserve it,” you pull back, catching his pouted lip.

"You're my weakness, Rafe,” you whisper, watching a smirk tug on the corner of his lips. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

"Shittt… S’that so?" He bites his lip, hearing exactly what he wanted to hear. “How are you so forgiving? Why are you bein’ so nice to me?” He asks as he crawls to your lips; hard cock dragging against your tummy, smudging precum along your warm skin. Rafe lays himself down on top of you, pinning you to the bed. He grabs your cheeks with one hand, kissing your lips roughly.

“‘Cause I like you. You’re showing me how much you care… That’s all I wanted, Rafe. I just want to be all you wanted. I think I am-”

“You are.” He stops you. “You… You are all I want, Y/n. I'm gonna make you feel that.”

“I need it, Rafe.”

"So damn needy, baby doll. I love it," he croons as he leans in, breathing heavily with you as he swirls his fat tip around your drooling hole, pressing in just enough to make your mouth fall in a soft “o,” moaning into his mouth at the stretch. “Mmm, fuck. Sounded better than I dreamed it would," he mutters; thrusting into you roughly, giving you all of him, making you scream his name. "Fuck, sweetheart. Keep goin’. Yeah? Keep saying my name," he lives as he grips your thighs, slinging them over his big shoulders. Your eyes widen as his large cock stretches you out; Rafe presses his full weight into you, making your trembling hands reach for his hips.

“So deep, Rafe,” you blubber.

“Too much?” You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head ‘no’. “So damn tight. Mmpfh - Shit. This fucking pussy, princess.” Rafe starts to move, rolling and snapping his hips into you at the perfect pace. His gold chain sways with each movement, Rafe’s eyes rolling back as you catch it between your teeth. Your eyes flutter shut as you toe the line between pleasure and pain, the knot in your belly threatens to break. "Look at that baby… Holy shit,” he chuckles raspily. His large hand rests on your lower stomach; the tip of his big cock making a slight bulge in your tummy.

Rafe drops your thighs from his shoulders, taking a bruising grip on your hips, fucking into you rough and fast, causing the hardware of the bunkbed clatter. You grab his wrists from your hips, dragging them up your body, curling them to your neck, urging him to squeeze. “Thought you were innocent…” He smiles as he tightens his hold even more, making you choke and sputter. Your rapid pulse raps against his palm, the metal of his rings chilling your dewy skin.

"Tighter," you pant. Rafe laughs wickedly, applying further pressure, making your eyes fall closed, breasts bouncing with each thrust. Rafe lifts his hand, slapping your cheek just enough to sting. Your pussy tightens around his cock, you, holding back your release knowing he won’t let you cum ‘til he says so.

"Don’t cum. Don’t fuckin’ do it," he drawls, saying those words aloud. Blessing your ears with the type of shit you only dreamed about when you were pleasing yourself to the thought of him.

"Rafe... I." You stutter as you feel your pleasure about to burn through you. "I can't..."

"Mmm... Not until I tell you. You understand?"

"Please!" You moan. You can't hold back your bliss even if you tried. Your climax claims your body. "Rafe, fuck!" You sob. He continues to rail you, not letting up. You force your eyes open, meeting his stare; Rafe quickly hides his smile.

"What the fuck did I say, y/n?

"I'm so-” He cuts you off with his big fingers pushing through your kiss-swollen lips, landing on your tongue.

“Suck.” Rafe draws his fingers down to your clit, circling them quickly. You feel yourself right back at the edge of ecstasy; your eyes start to fall shut as exhaustion sets in. “Look at me, or I might just stop.” He slows his strokes, hands toiling slower as he threatens to cease altogether, smiling at you darkly.

"What? N-No. Don't fucking stop," you whimper as you stare into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Fuck. You’re too easy to tease, baby. You look so pretty when you’re worked up… When you’re fuckin’ desperate,” he breathes as he picks up the pace again. “That’s gonna be a hard habit to break.” He lowers himself to your lips, his muscular body clapping against you again and again. “You like it though. Don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah. Fuck. I love it.”

“I knew it. M’not gonna tease you anymore, but I want you to be a good girl and cum f’me. Think you can do that?” His mumbles between kisses. "Can you say my name? It sounds so fucking good, y/n... So fucking good."

"Yeah, Rafe. Fuck," you whine. "Are you-" You start, voice cutting short, as pleasure takes complete control.

"Yeah, baby, I am. Fuck. I'm right there." You pull him in tighter, hooking your ankles around his trim waist, praising his name as he worships you. "Y/n... Ugh, shit," he groans, hips pumping one last time, filling you full. He kisses you deeply, breathing heavily with you as tears of pleasure wet your cheeks. “M’not fuckin’ leaving you.”

Rafe wraps the blanket around your shoulder, pulling you in closer, the warmth of his big body presses against yours. Your head falls against his chest, taking in the silence of the night. Everything changed for the better; apologies were said, plans were made for the fall; the rest of the summer ahead of you both. Rafe rests a cigarette between his lips, thumbing his lighter, the flickering of the flame glowing on his beautiful features in the darkness. He takes a drag, casting smoke up into the dim sky.

It’s silent, as it has been for months between you, other than Rafe’s blistering words, but this stillness is different. There’s no stress between the two of you, just you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, making his rosy lips curve into a smile. He rests the cigarette in his mouth, taking another puff before stamping it out, snuggling close, resting his lips on your bare shoulder as he fiddles with the soft material of your cotton cami.

“Rafe,” you chuckle weakly, hearing him mumbling against your warm skin, preparing yourself for another round of ‘I’m sorry’s’ from him, “It’s alright’s’ from you.

“I know I’ve said it a million fuckin’ times tonight, but I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he mutters, his voice raspy and worn from the smoke. You turn your cheek, kissing him, nuzzling in.

“I forgive you. I promise.”

“Can’t believe that… And after that shit, I pulled earlier. What the hell is wrong with you? Huh?” He knocks as he tickles your sides, making you nestle into him more. “I can’t wait for the fall,” he beams. “College life; frat life, and we get to do all that. I mean with you… And me - like us. Together. You and I. We get to do that together, princess,” he fumbles nervously over his words, making you smile even harder at his excitement.

“Together?”

“Mhmm…” He hums. “I mean, you’re mine, to be clear.” He kisses your neck roughly, giving you a playful bite.

“So, I'm your-”

“Girlfriend,” he answers confidently. “You have been for months. Didn't you know?”

A scream pierces through the night, making Rafe jump; his body tightens around you as you watch Zoey stumble into view. Her battered body glowing in the luster of the moon. You’re frozen in place, watching as the horror she was running from steps out from behind a cabin, like something out of a movie. He walks toward her as she struggles on the ground, clawing at the wet earth, doing her best to stand and flee.

The masked man lifts his axe, striking her with a loud thump as the blade connects with her back. Her sickening scream echoes through the camp, causing the lights in the surrounding cabins to flick on. Counselors step out into the twilight, responding with horrified screams of their own, some running, some hiding as you and Rafe watch on, unable to move as the madman continues to swing his axe again and again.

The killer’s head slowly turns, locking eyes with you. He breathes heavily, the chest of his bloodied plaid shirt heaving. Rafe comes too first, pulling himself together enough to yank you to your feet. Before you have time to react, Rafe’s massive truck comes barreling in reverse, plowing down the way from the pogue’s cabin, blaring on the horn. JJ hangs out the driver’s side, weaving around obstacles, closing the gap between you, dodging the masked man narrowly.

“My fuckin’ truck, Maybank?” Rafe’s voice breaks.

“Keys were in the ignition, slick. Get in the fuckin’ truck,” Maybank barks at the two of you. Rafe quickly pulls you down the steps, helping you into the truck as the killer looks around for his next victim. The tailgate’s already open. Rafe helps you inside before slamming it shut behind you, making your stomach fall.

“Get in the truck,” you pant. He looks at you and shakes his head ‘no’ before grabbing your cheeks, kissing you hard and fast.

”I’ll meet you at the main road. M’gonna find Top and Kelce. You’re gonna be okay. Alright? RIGHT?” Rafe barks at the pogues, who assure him quickly that you’ll be fine. JJ smacks his palm against the side of Rafe’s truck, urging the two of you to hurry up.

Rafe runs ahead, steering away from the killer, spriting close to the cabins as JJ peels out. You watch him in the strobe of the headlights closing in on his cabin as JJ takes off, his speed throwing you against the cold metal bed of the truck. You scooch back, gripping the edge of the vehicle tightly as your body jolts forward again. The killer moves in JJ’s path, causing him to swerve and break to avoid running over Zoey’s dead body on the cold ground.

I can't do it.

Fuck. You leap out of the truck without much thought, feet hitting the dirt, unable to leave without him. JJ slams on the breaks, the group of them screaming at you to come back as you stream toward Rafe’s cabin. “Just go! I’ll meet you at the main road!” Your voice cracks with terror as you watch them go back and forth with what to do. “JUST FUCKING GO!” The tires spin fast, spraying the killer with rocks and dirt as the engine roars, quickly speeding away.

The slasher’s soulless eyes peer through the mask, locking with yours, sending chills down your spine. Just run. You look over your shoulder, scrambling the rest of the way to Rafe’s bunk, hearing the murderer’s feet pounding into the ground behind you. You grab the door, tugging it open before slamming it shut, pushing your back against it as you gasp for a breath.

CRACK.

You look to your left, just mere inches from your head, at the slasher's axe sliced through the old wooden door. Your wide, horrified eyes looks back at you in the reflection of the metal, a mess with blood. Rafe rushes at you in a panic, holding your cheeks, kissing your lips between frantic questions. “Why didn’t you just fuckin’ leave? What - What are you doin’, baby? What were you thinkin’? Huh?” He mutters through trembling lips.

“We gotta go, man,” Kelce pleads, his voice strained with the horrors of the night as he holds Topper up, their friend’s blood soaking through his clothes, pooled on the floor below him. You look at Topper’s body, his right arm almost completely gone, cut off at the elbow. So fresh the boys weren’t even able to offer aid. Topper’s breaths are shallow and labored as he fights for consciousness.

“What the fuck was that?” Topper slurs in a haze.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, man. We just gotta get outta here-”

CRASH.

The killer’s axe smashes through the glass, sending shards of the front window flying in every direction, glinting all around. You recoil slightly as Rafe shields you, quickly pulling you to run again. Rafe passes you the keys to Topper’s Jeep before looping his arm around Thornton’s waist, helping Kelce ease him out the back.

You look back in horror, watching as the monster steps through the window, crushing the chips of shattered glass under his old leather boots. You slam the back door shut behind you, unable to lock it, terrified knowing you were just seconds away from seeing him again. The boys quickly help Topper inside as you leap into the driver’s seat, turning it over.

CRASH.

The axe crashes through the back window of Topper’s Jeep. Kelce screams out in pain as the weapon grazes his shoulder, blood and glass showering the back seat. You press the pedal to the floor, tires struggling to gain traction in the uneven grass. The Jeep takes off fast. Your fingers bind tight around the wheel, knuckles turning white.

Rafe shifts in his seat, staring out the back window toward the lake, his blue eyes wide with fear. You look out the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the killer’s silhouette in the moonlight. You swerve slightly, overcorrecting, your reactions heightened; body and mind on edge. You breathe a sigh of relief as Rafe’s hand reaches over, gripping your thigh.

The Jeep plows down the road pushing 80, getting the four of you about a mile away from camp. Not far enough. You swerve out onto the main street, tires screeching. Rafe’s truck lights beam ahead. You slam on the brakes, throwing it in the park, reaching for a breath. “Let me, baby,” Rafe soothes, placing his hand on the wheel over the top of yours, gesturing that he can take control if you need it.

Your tears fall heavily, relief setting in as you run around to the front of the Jeep. Rafe pulls you into his strong arms, breathing heavily with you. “You’re okay. We’re alright. We’re okay. Okay?” He stammers, fighting back his own emotion for you. “We gotta get Top to a hospital. We gotta get outta here-” Rafe looks over his shoulder, down the long dark path back to Camp Salem. You grab his cheeks, turning him back to you before pressing your lips against his, kissing him deeply.

“I love you.”

Rafe pauses, his trembling lips hovering over yours. “Say it again, baby,” he pleads.

“I love you, Rafe.”

“I love you too.”

The End.

⭐tags⭐: tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn't working): @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @nemesyaaa @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 dixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvayblr-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart @writtenbyhollywood

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savanir · 2 months ago

Text

continuation of this thank you again @mynameisjag for the inspiration, this prompt currently has me by the throat

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

The evening is dreary, rain pouring from the skies like tears. Typical Gotham fare to be honest.

This evening was the stage of the latest gala in the crime filled city, another fundraiser for something, or at least pretending to be.

Vlad brought his dear Madeline as well as Jasmine with him, he was planning to do some light networking but this was also his latest attempt to cheer his sweetheart up. The new experience might distract her a bit.

She had not taken the news well… when the search party found Daniel’s clone corpse in the woods.

It’s been months since the funeral, but her spark for life still has not yet reignited.

And in those past few months Jasmine has seemingly taken over Daniel’s job and has become a most persistent thorn in Vlad’s side, absolutely refusing to let him make any sort of progress with Maddie.

But this evening wasn’t about any of that. There would be no bickering between Vlad and Jazz about him aiding her in finding her lost brother. Not like she even needed his help, she and Daniel’s old friends were probably doing the best job possible in finding the boy.

And it’s not like he could tell her he knew her brother was probably being kept by one of the world's greatest mercenaries.

Revealing that would open a whole new can of worms he didn’t want to explain.

Maddie was mostly distracted at the gala, staring morosely at Wayne and his brood.

The sight fills Vlad with an insidious sort of anger, the kind that lays heavy and molten on the bottom of your stomach. She better not get it in her head to try and replace one bumbling oaf for the next.

Also… getting rid of a Wayne is apparently a weirdly difficult thing to do… Vlad would rather not bother.

And even though he feels bitter, it is rather nice to see Madeline cheer up when she gets to introduce herself to the boys. Vlad again thinks about his plan of conceiving a new son of their own, not to replace Daniel of course, the boy is irreplaceable but… well, yeah to replace him.

After all, is it really worth it to find Daniel anymore at this point?

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The gala is uneventful right up until Vlad leaves the main area for a breath of fresh air, hopefully find the designated smoking area and have a cigarette (it’s not like those things can kill him anymore anyway) but on the way there he saw a shadow darting around the corner and he just couldn’t help himself.

If there was any illegal activity afoot, he rather be on top of it himself, that way he’ll know what he can pull and get away with.

It wasn't until he entered a room and promptly got ambushed that he thought that maybe he had walked into a trap of sorts, oh well, nothing Plasmius wouldn’t be able to fix.

Gotham is a city of freaks but none of them are on his power level after all.

Still, precious decisive reaction time got wasted because he’s thinking of an approach that would not result in him having to permanently silence his assailant. Murder is probably rough to cover up in the city that’s home to the world’s greatest detective and bribing the corrupt police force is such a hassle… a scuffle of a mugging/abduction or whatever gone wrong is much easier to explain.

Instead Vlad finds himself tazed, tazed of all things. Perhaps an ecto infused blast into the nearby wall isn’t such a bad idea after all.

But then he finds he can’t access his powers anymore, and a mild sense of dread takes root in his chest.

That taser… it couldn’t have been….

He isn't given much time to think about it as he’s expertly incapacitated and worked against the ground.

Vlad thinks he hears the faintest mutterings, something along the lines of “we do rely too much on our powers” perhaps it’s some veiled insult directed at his current situation. Uncalled for in his opinion…

Of course he struggles, he fights back. His attacker is way smaller than him, lighter and quick with their moves, whomever this is they certainly know what they are doing and Vlad hates to admit it, but without Plasmius he’s actually outmatched.

That leaves plain ol’ shouting for help.

An idea that quickly got snuffed out when a big army knife that crackles with sickly neon green energy gets pressed against his throat and a detonator gets shown off in his assailant’s hand.

“Quiet now, or I’ll blow this place sky high”

“That seems counterproductive” Vlad can’t help but snarl.

“aww, worried about me? there is no need I’ll be just fine, them on the other hand…”

the attacker puts a tablet down that shows a video feed of the main gala area with all the people milling about.

None of them matter to Vlad, but his Madeline and her daughter are there as well, he easily spots them too.

“What do you want, money? I’m sure there are better targets for that out there”

All of a sudden there is a strangely familiar staticy growl in his attacker’s voice, “I want two things from you, I want you to suffer and then I want you to die”

this is personal then… not good.

His attacker takes a moment to more firmly incapacitate Vlad against the floor before redirecting his attention to the video feed on the tablet screen. In the main gala area a big screen of it’s own has come down from the ceiling, usually meant for big fancy presentations (but those had already been carried out for the evening) and was now showing Vlad’s latest illegal activity for all the people to see.

Inside the room people are worriedly looking to and fro, wondering what rogue attack this will lead to, others are already gleefully taking to social media and broadcasting the events happening to the rest of the world.

Personnel are scrambling about to figure out what’s going on, and a couple Wayne’s have now subtly left the area.

“There we go, all out in the open. No more secrets”

Vlad’s eyes darted over the screen in horror.

“I like this right here,” his attacker zooms in on Maddie’s face as she’s realizing in real time that Vlad paid someone to kill her husband, “that’s a good face”

People are looking around and starting to notice Vlad is not among them anymore.

“You cannot possibly expect to get away with this, the Gotham bats are most likely already aware and hunting you down”

“I know-” His attacker shushes, “don’t spoil my fun, at least let me enjoy this show. Even if you somehow manage to get away from me now your life is completely ruined”

Vlad makes another attempt to escape, growling, “who are you and why are you doing this, how do you even know about half of these things-”

He gets his hands ran through and pinned down fully on the ground with the knives in return.

Vlad figures he must have made some noise but the painful pressure that his assailant keeps on his back is also making it harder to breathe.

“C’mon now, you always boasted about how you’re better and more experienced in every way. Surely you can use that big brain of yours and figure this mystery out, here I’ll help-” the attacker painfully twists his head to the side, “have a look”

It’s dark and the figure is still very much in the shadows but the first thing that catches Vlad’s eyes is the mask over his assailant’s mouth that’s black on the right and orange on the left, a rather obvious hint towards ties with a certain mercenary.

The dark hair styled in that one familiar way brings someone else to mind.

“Daniel”

The boy doesn’t hesitate to twist one of the knives in his hand.

“Don’t call me that”

“Danny-” Vlad doesn’t hesitate to correct even though it does come out rather strangled because of the pain, this is a bad situation and he’s not stupid, “whatever he said-”

there is a faint crackle and it’s only through Vlad’s still slightly enhanced senses that he hears the gruff voice talking to Daniel.

“Wrap it up Memento”

Danny glances at the live feed on the tablet. Proper security is starting to swarm around.

Maddie is holding Jazz close and appears to be talking to someone in charge. One of the Wayne brood has decided to stick with her, the eldest son. How kind of him.

Vlad is still trying to get Danny to listen to him.

Danny sighs, “I kind of wish I could drag this out longer, but this is fine” he twists his knee against Vlad’s neck and now properly restrains Vlad’s legs before pulling out something new.

“This is something my dad was working on before you got him killed, I was planning on sabotaging it and getting rid of the blueprints but... things change”

Danny puts it in the middle of Vlad’s upper back, “I’m sure you’re dying to know what it does. Well, it’s the Fenton Ghost Core Crusher. A bit of a mouthful admittedly. I’m still workshopping a better name, but at the very least the purpose is obvious”

“Daniel-” Vlad is starting to sound like a parent who is realizing that their kid is about to do something dangerous and stupid. It's honestly too bad that he’s not a parent and Danny is not his kid, otherwise it might have actually had it’s intended effect.

“I would have loved to see you deal with the full aftermath and consequences of your horrible choices in life but I don’t really feel like dealing with you as a full ghost so I guess this is it, goodbye forever, it really sucked to have known you”

Vlad has a second to fully regret Deathstroke taking Daniel and not taking it as seriously as he should have and then he’s too busy feeling what must be a supernova and a blackhole manifesting in his chest at the same time somehow.

After that he hears, or perhaps he just feels… a sickening crack and everything fades away.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

There is a corpse at Danny’s feet. It’s Vlad, fully dead, the not coming back kind.

Danny figured he’d feel different, there is some vindication, and the slight satisfaction of a death avenged, but other than that he just feels rather empty, and kind of tired.

Danny doesn’t realize he’s getting a little lost in his head until Slade’s voice cuts through his mental spiral and snaps him out of it.

“Memento, time to move”

“right”

A part of Danny wants to stay, be found. As he goes invisible and floats right through the ceiling he takes some time to fantasize about it. Would it be a bat? or perhaps one of the security guards checking the rooms, maybe it would even be one of the attendees, they would probably scream once they noticed Vlad on the ground. A security guard would be smarter about the situation, but not by much.

A bat would probably attack him once they realized Vlad was already dead.

Later on they would put a little addendum in their rogue list at Deathstroke’s name, a little side file that’s just for Danny, affiliated with Slade Wilson, name; ???, gender; male, age; somewhere between 14 and 18, threat level; capable of killing people, something like that.

A few buildings away Danny catches up with Slade on the roof.

“Did you have fun? did you get it all out of your system?” Slade folds his arms over his chest.

Danny just growls at him.

“In that case it’s time to move on” The man is already turning away.

Well, Danny can agree on that, so he follows Deathstroke away from the mess he caused at the gala and away from his mother and sister.

And here is my idea for a Deathstroke affiliated Danny

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #batman #vlad plasmius #deathstroke #slade wilson #madeline fenton #jasmine fenton #MementoDannyAU #savwrites #Danny is not the ghost king #dc stands for disregard canon #dp x dc #dc x dp #I will admit this got a little out of hand #big enough for AO3 but it's incomprehensible without context so...

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