#the dark knight x oc

[igot-the-juice]

The Scarred - Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning - This chapter contains smut but can be read without it. Smut will start after the second banner. MDNI/NSFW!

The smell of iron filled her lungs, the blood stuck to her face invading her senses as the man now lay still on the floor below her. With a crazed look in her eye, she kicked away the arm that was now detached, heavy as it slid across the stained floor. 

She began to breathe heavily, unable to decipher whether or not she had really done it. But the smell alone brought her to the reality of the situation. 

As the men began to pick up what was left of the body, she began to smile, then it turned into a chaotic giggle. She turned to face the Joker and it immediately dropped.

He stared at her with such an intensity that turned her to stone, eyes somehow darker than they ever were. Her lips parted in a silent question, worried about whether or not she overstepped. 

She heard the doors shut behind her and suddenly, in a few large strides, he approached her and aggressively pulled her into him. His lips crashed down onto her own blood stained ones, not possibly caring less in that moment as he practically suffocated her. 

At first she was stiff, baffled by his sudden behavior that seemed completely out of character for him. 

Then she finally let go and accepted it. 

Her arm reached up around his neck, reciprocating the affection with equal intensity. Nothing was held back by either of them, his hands wandering over her figure as she kept her own planted, choosing to focus on the sensation of his scarred lips. 

She sighed once he pulled away, eye slowly opening to gaze into the hazel gems before her. 

“J?” Penelope whispered, the nickname slipping out without a second thought. His expression faltered when it reached his ears, but their usual spark soon followed after. 

He didn’t correct her. He didn’t snap. Instead, a low chuckle rumbled from his throat, rolling into a sharp, sinister laugh that echoed off of the concrete walls. His gloved fingers came up to her face, tracing the scarred side with surprising gentleness, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Well, well, well,” He rasped, voice dripping with twisted delight. “Look who’s getting familiar now, hm?”

Penelope tensed but didn’t pull away. There was something unsettling in his gaze, a wildness dancing just beneath the surface. Yet there was a strange acceptance, too. As if she’d unlocked a piece of him. Something private. Dangerous.

“Ya know, doll,” He cooed, the nickname rolling off his tongue mockingly, yet with a hint of genuine fondness. “Most people aren’t brave enough to give me nicknames.” He licked at his lips. “Ya might want to be careful, though,” He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “Calling me that? That’s… close. And close gets people hurt.”

His fingers dropped from her face, drifting lazily down to her shoulder, lingering on the edge of her missing arm. 

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, those crazed eyes searching hers, trying to see if she’d flinch. But Penelope held her ground, her heart racing, something in her stirring. A newfound sense of chaos, creeping up, waking.

“I’ll take my chances,” She whispered, her voice steady despite the flutter of fear and excitement in her chest.

The Joker’s smile returned, wider than ever. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down her spine.

-

When she entered her apartment, she ignored the presence she knew would already be there, prioritizing a shower to get the now dried and crusted blood off of her. His questions of concern were muffled as she mindlessly wandered to her bedroom to pick out her pajamas. 

“Penelope!” Liam finally yelled, gripping firmly onto her shoulders and turning her to face him. For once, he was truly speechless. Unable to hide his worry for what inevitably came to be his best friend, brow furrowed.

“I’m fine, Liam.” She offered a genuine smile, resting her hand over one of his own. She brushed past him towards the bathroom to turn on the shower and closed the door. 

Questions flooded in his mind as he impatiently waited on the couch, the TV now completely blocked out. His leg bounced anxiously, biting at his nails. He practically jumped out of his skin when the door opened and she walked in, acting as if nothing even happened. 

She searched through her cupboards for something, plastic crinkling in her hands as she opened a pack of popcorn and popped it into the microwave. 

“Penny?” Liam cautiously called to her. She simply hummed in response. He stood and gradually made his way over to her. “Did he hurt ye?” 

“Quite the opposite.” Penelope answered casually, unloading the dishwasher as she spoke. 

“Penny. Ye know ye can trust me.”

“I killed a man, Liam!” She finally blurted out as she whipped to face him. “He found the man that caused this,” She motioned to her deformed body. “And I killed him.” 

The two of them stood silently, searching the other for any sign of distrust or betrayal. While she overthought his reaction, Liam had assumed it was only a matter of time before it happened. As soon as the Joker made himself known to her, he knew it was over.

“The scary part isn’t even that I did it. It’s that I enjoyed it. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. Not after what he did to me, Liam.” Her voice began to break, lip beginning to tremble. “Not after…” She sniffed and wrapped her arm around his torso, relieved that his warm comfort was provided without a moment’s hesitation. 

He gently hushed her, cradling her head while his other hand’s thumb caressed her back. “It’s alright, lovin’.” He whispered. 

Liam pulled away, hands gently taking hold of her face to look at him. 

“There is nothin’ wrong with ye. Nothin’ wrong with what happened, ye understand? He got what he deserved, yeah?” 

Penelope nodded as he wiped away her tears, grabbing the popcorn from the microwave before leading them to the couch. She wrapped herself in a blanket, opening the bag and nibbling on a small handful. 

“Did he scream?” He asked in a joking tone once she calmed down more. To his relief, she giggled. 

“Like a pussy.” 

-

The flower shop was quiet, the soft scent of roses and lilies filling the air as Emma arranged a bouquet of daisies behind the counter. The bell over the door jingled softly as Penelope stepped inside, her movements slow and careful. Emma’s eyes lifted to greet her, but the smile faded slightly when she saw Penelope’s face—pale, drawn, and distant.

“Hey, hun,” Emma called gently, setting the flowers aside. “Everything okay?”

Penelope gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eye. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”

Emma frowned, watching her carefully. She knew Penelope had been through a lot, but lately, something had shifted. The girl had always been quiet, but now there was a tension beneath the surface, as if she were on edge, waiting for something. Emma noticed the slight twitch in Penelope’s remaining hand, her fingers trembling for a moment before she shoved them into her pocket.

“I’m gonna go handle the new shipment.” Penelope asked, her voice strained.

Emma nodded slowly but kept her eyes on her as she made her way to the door leading into the back room. “Of course, sweetheart. You sure you’re feeling alright, though? You’ve been… distant lately.”

Penelope stiffened, her back to Emma as she began unpacking a box of tulips. “I’m fine.” She said quickly. Too quickly.

Emma bit her lip, the maternal instinct in her stirring. She walked over, placing a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Look, I know things have been hard for you, but if something’s wrong… you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Penelope flinched at the touch, though she tried to hide it with a small shrug. “I know. But really, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. She didn’t believe that for a second. There was a darkness in Penelope’s expression, something haunted and restless. Emma had seen it before in people who were hiding something, something dangerous. She couldn’t help but feel a knot of worry tighten in her chest.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Penelope,” Emma said softly. “You’ve been acting off. And it scares me.”

Penelope hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the box. “I’m fine, Emma.”

But Emma wasn’t convinced. Her heart ached as she watched her, knowing that whatever it was, Penelope was shutting her out. 

“I’m here if you need me,” Emma said quietly, retreating back to the counter. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

Penelope nodded, but Emma could see the flicker of guilt in her eye before she turned away.

A little while passed and eventually it was close to closing. Penelope sat behind the counter scribbling away in her journal, however more aggressive than usual. The door chimed as it opened, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she saw it was only Liam. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Emma. 

“Ey there, Penny.” He greeted, giving a simple nod to Emma as he charismatically leaned on the counter in front of the former. “Day treatin’ ye right?” Penelope shrugged. Emma decided to disappear into the back, but took care to listen in on their conversation.

“As much as it can, I suppose.” 

“Ye still up fer the range?” He asked, concerned about whether she was too tired or overwhelmed. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t think I’ll be up for being there as long, though.” 

“No worries about that, I figured as much.” He glanced over at the clock and Penelope did the same, packing up her things to leave. She walked over to the back room and leaned in the doorway. 

“I’m heading out, Emma. Text me if you need anything, okay?” The brunette gave an appreciative smile. 

“I will. You take care now, okay? Be safe.” 

“You too.” Penelope offered a smile of her own before meeting Liam at the door to leave. 

The range was rather large, hidden away in the outskirts which she appreciated. With how big it was, she was surprised that they were the only ones there besides the owner at the front. 

They stood in a separate room where the actual range was, handguns aimed down range and firing. After finishing an iteration they took their ear covers off, the pressure of them irritating her head. 

“She doesn’t know about what ye’ve been up to, does she?” Liam suddenly asked, catching her off guard. Penelope hesitated before answering. 

“No.” Liam leaned against the nearby wall, eyeing her. 

“I’d be careful about her if I were ye.” 

“Why’s that? She doesn’t know, and it’s going to stay that way so long as I can help it.” Penelope readied her gun for the next iteration, then set it back down carefully.

“Ye see, that’s the thing. Ye don’t trust her enough to tell her. And that says a lot. Ye told me and yet ye’ve barely known me for half as long.” 

Liam pushed himself off of the wall and began making his way towards her. 

“Ye don’t trust her as much as he think ye do, Penny. She may be a friend, but she’s not loyal. The second she gets even a hint of what yer up to, she’s gonna get curious and try to find out more, and when she does, she’s goin’ straight to the cops.” 

“She wouldn’t do that to me -“

“But she would.” Liam spoke sternly, urging her to believe him. “I’ve dealt with plenty of her kind and it never ended well. Even just today, I saw the way she was eyein’ us. She’s already suspicious.” 

Liam raised his hands to rest on her shoulders.

“Ye need to be careful around her. I know it’s hard, she’s yer friend, I get it. I do. But I’m speakin’ from experience. As much as it hurts to hear, ye can’t trust her.” 

Penelope cast her gaze downwards, struggling to take in all that she was being told. 

“Come on. Let’s keep goin’.” He nodded towards the targets in front of them, taking notice of the turmoil going on in her head. 

As always, he walked her to her apartment when finished. Both because he was right down the hall and it was just the right thing to do. But just before she opened her door, he stopped her. 

“Just think about what I said, yeah? I’m tryin’ to keep ye safe.” Penelope paused, thinking. Then she finally nodded and Liam smiled at her, patting her shoulder before walking to his apartment. 

Penelope turned back to her door and opened it, a familiar smell reaching her nose making her sigh as the door softly clicked shut behind her. She looked over at her couch where the notorious clown-like man sat comfortably. He lounged back like he belonged there, flipping through channels with an air of indifference, his lips twisted into that familiar, unsettling grin.

Her heart raced. She didn’t know what to feel. Fear, confusion, curiosity? The same mixture of emotions had been bubbling inside her since that night. The night she’d felt his lips on hers, tasted the madness, and the thrill of what she’d done. The blood on her hands still felt so fresh.

“You’re here.” Penelope finally said, breaking the silence, her voice hoarse but steady.

Joker didn’t look away from the screen, but his grin widened. “Where else would I be?”

She swallowed hard, moving slowly towards the couch, her eyes never leaving him. “I don’t know… plotting, terrorizing people. Laughing at something burning, maybe?”

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, and patted the seat next to him. “Sheesh, can’t a guy just catch a break sometimes? Hm?” He jested, eyes still fixated on the TV. “Sit down, toots, we’re watching a comedy.”

She hesitated, glancing at the TV. Some mindless sitcom played, laugh tracks echoing. She took a seat, keeping her distance but not too far. The cushion sagged slightly under her, and she found herself staring at him, trying to read something - anything - in his chaotic, unpredictable eyes.

“What’s so funny about this?” She asked, her voice soft, unsure whether she meant the show or their entire situation.

Joker’s eyes slid over to her, sharp and amused. “Oh, nothing about the show. It’s the idea of it. People trapped in their boring little lives, pretending everything’s fine.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s hilarious, don’t ya think?”

Penelope’s gaze shifted from the TV to him, searching his face. She couldn’t understand how he saw the world. He terrified her, fascinated her, made her want to crawl away and stay close all at once. Her fingers traced the edge of the cushion nervously. “How do you live like this?”

“Like what?” He asked flatly, his eyes glinting as if her question was a challenge.

“Like…” She struggled for the right words. “Without… rules. Without a plan. Just… chaos.”

He laughed, leaning back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say I live in chaos.” His voice was soft now, almost soothing, but there was still a biting tone to it. “Yeah, I cause chaos. But live in freedom. Freedom from their rules. Their endless nagging, the ‘don’t do this, do this’, ya see? You’ve tasted it, haven’t you? The freedom. The power.”

Penelope tensed, the memory of that night creeping back in. The rush of adrenaline, the way her hands had trembled… then steadied. “That’s freedom…?” She whispered. 

Joker’s grin faltered for just a second, and he tilted his head, watching her closely. “You did what you wanted to do. Without worrying about consequences. Their consequences. The consequences of everyone trying to control you and be someone that you’re not.”

She bit her lip, looking down at her lap. “How can I be sure there won’t be consequences?”

“You’re lookin��� at it, toots.” Joker said, his tone playful but condescending. “You can choose to pretend everything’s fine, just like everyone else. Go back to being quiet, timid little Penelope. Or…” He leaned in close. “You can be free.”

Her pulse quickened, and she turned to face him, searching his eyes.“Why do you want me to change?” She asked finally, her voice quiet.

Joker’s gaze softened, just for a moment, as if he was considering her question seriously. “I don’t want you to change. I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know. And I finally got a taste of it. And so did you. The real question is…” He shifted his body to face her. “Can you live with it? Because once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore. It’ll show its true colors. You’ll see. And once you do?” He threw her a look with an accompanied gesture. “I can guarantee you won’t want to go back.” 

Penelope wasn’t sure what to do, what to think. She couldn’t help but believe him. Everything he said had some resemblance of truth. Was the freedom truly worth it? Was it worth throwing everything away? Emma? Liam? If the way she felt that night at the warehouse was only a taste of it, she could only imagine how she would feel if she just completely let go. 

She was sure Liam would understand, he was supportive of her every step of the way. No matter if it was morally questionable. 

But Emma? 

Penelope thought about what Liam had told her. Emma was a close friend. A mother figure, even. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Liam was right about her. She kept telling herself that she never told Emma any of what was happening for her protection, but could she have just been lying to herself to prevent her own guilt? Did she truly trust Emma, or did she just cling to the brunette for lack of options? 

A tear trickled its way down her cheek, not even noticing beforehand as she was lost in thought. She looked Joker in the eye and spoke with a trembling voice. 

“I don’t want to live like this anymore…” Penelope shook her head. “I’m tired of feeling stuck.” She noticed a subtle shift in his expression, hardened. He suddenly rose to his feet with newfound determination. 

“Get up.” He demanded, catching her by surprise. After a moment, she stood and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the bathroom and facing her towards the mirror. “Ya want to stop living by their rules, hm?” Penelope nodded in desperation. “Take off the bandages.” 

Her eye widened in disbelief, breathing halted. He stepped closer to her, his warmth pressed against her. 

“Break their norm. Show them you’re not theirs to control anymore. Stop trying to be like them.” He leaned in next to her ear. “Send a message.”

Penelope took a shaky breath, meeting Joker’s eye through the mirror. Her heart raced, blood rushing in her ears as her hand fought to leave her side. Slowly but surely, it raised. Her hands caressed the edge of her bandages, toying with the fabric until she finally began to pull them off with care. 

She refused to look at herself, tears now streaming down her cheek as a sob left her lips. She felt cool leather grip her jaw, forcing her to look at her reflection in the mirror. 

The sight seemed foreign to her no matter how many times she took them off. The texture was soft, yet uneven. It was finally healed with skin covering where her eye should have been.

“Now that… is a doll.” 

His knuckles caressed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The tickling sensation caught her breath, head leaning back against him. This enigmatic man made her feel alive, made her want to embrace the freedom he spoke of as his hands slid down her slim figure, igniting something within her. 

"There ya go." Joker whispered, his breath hot against her ear. 

Penelope's gaze fell on her exposed scars, and for the first time, she felt truly wanted. She felt beautiful. 

"Now how about that freedom?" He growled, hands slipping under her shirt and caressing her soft skin. As his skilled fingers found her hardened nipples, Penelope's breath hitched. His marred lips mixed with her own textured neck, covering it with nips and licks as he practically worshiped her scars. She wanted this man, wanted to feel his touch. She yearned to explore this new, uninhibited side of herself that he was awakening.

Joker’s hands then lifted her shirt, pulling it off over her head and soaking in the sight of her with a heated gaze. 

More scars littered her left side, similar to what was on her face. He felt her begin the retreat, but his hands quickly snatched her wrists to keep her where she was. “None of that. Got it?” He threatened and she nodded in response. 

He then unclasped her bra and tossed it away, hands moving to cup and toy at her breasts. One hand began to travel lower, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her slender legs. Once she stepped out of them he turned her around to face him and pushed her until she was leaning against the bathroom counter. Her legs opened, inviting him to stand in between them. One of his thighs pressed against her radiating core, flexing his muscle until her head leaned back with a sigh. 

He released a feral growl and reached around to the back of her head, pulling her into him so their lips clashed against each other. The kiss was rough and full of need, Penelope lightly moaning into it as she ground herself against his thigh for some much needed relief. 

“Yeah? Ya like that?” Joker taunted before snatching her thighs and setting her on top of the empty space of the counter. “C’mere.” He dropped to his knees, his hands pulling down her panties and spreading her pussy lips, revealing her glistening, swollen clit. He inhaled her scent, a mix of desire and her unique musk, before plunging his tongue deep inside her, making her gasp and grip the edge of the counter.

Joker’s tongue was a skilled weapon, licking and sucking at her clit, sending waves of pleasure through Penelope's body. He teased her entrance, dipping his tongue just inside before pulling away, only to return with renewed fervor.

"J -" Penelope moaned, her head thrown back. "Please, don’t stop."

Joker hummed, the vibrations sending shivers through Penelope. “Dangerous thing to beg me like that, doll.” 

He warned before he continued his oral assault, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Just as she was about to climax, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and desperate.

"Thought it’d be that easy, hm?" He said, standing. 

Penelope, wild with desire, reached for Joker’s trousers, undoing them with tremulous fingers. Once unbuttoned, her hand tremulously reached inside to grasp his hardened cock, pulling it free from its confines.

Joker’s cock was thick, the head glistening with pre-cum as she stroked it, her touch tentative yet eager. "Like whatcha see?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire.

Penelope nodded, her eye never leaving his cock as she continued to stroke it, marveling at the power she held in her hands. "Please, J…" She whispered, her voice thick with need.

He didn't need to be asked twice. 

He gripped onto her hip tightly, spreading her legs wide as he positioned himself at her entrance. 

“Now what’d I say about begging?” With one smooth thrust, he filled her, his cock stretching her pussy as he slid deep inside.

Penelope cried out, her body welcoming the invasion, her pussy clenching around his cock as he began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. He leaned forward, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss. 

Joker’s hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider as he pounded into her, his cock hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. Penelope's body trembled, her orgasm building with each delicious stroke.

"That’s it," He growled against her lips. "There ya go, toots. Come on, show me how much you want it.” 

His words were like a trigger, and Penelope's body exploded in a cascade of pleasure. She cried out, her pussy clenching around Joker’s cock as waves of ecstasy washed over her. He followed her over the edge, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside her, filling her with his hot cum.

As their heart rates slowed and their breathing returned to normal, Joker leaned back, watching as one of his hands ran over her scarred body. When their eyes met, Penelope smiled. Eye sparkling with newfound confidence. 

[deadnymaster]

The animatic already reached 32K on youtube! The triple I thought it would make on a month! I make this little extra comic for celebrate it~ What would Shadow/Lancelot choose? 🤔

[fangdokja]

In his eyes, your defiance isn’t strength—it’s foreplay.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Isekai! Knight x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 997

The dungeon was a living thing, breathing in tandem with the damp air and the rot that festered in its corners. Water dripped from unseen cracks in the ceiling, each droplet marking time’s cruel, endless march. The darkness was thick—a suffocating void where shadows twisted, forming grotesque shapes in your periphery. But none of it compared to the terror clawing at your chest when the sound of his boots began to echo against the stone.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

His approach was slow, deliberate—a predator playing with its prey, savoring each step as he closed the distance. You’d learned to read him through that sound alone: the way his mood colored the rhythm, faster when he was angry, slower when something darker churned beneath the surface. Tonight, the steps were unhurried, the pauses between them drawn-out, and that sent a cold dread unfurling in your stomach.

The iron door screamed in protest as it opened, and there he stood. Torchlight crawled over him, casting jagged shadows that exaggerated his already menacing form. The dark plate armor that encased him gleamed faintly, stained in streaks of dried crimson. Blood—fresh enough to reek. His gloved hands were dark and wet with whatever life he’d extinguished before coming here. The sight alone turned your insides to ice.

“Still so quiet, little mouse,” he drawled, his voice a slow, syrupy taunt. It curled around you like smoke, inescapable. “No cries? No scurrying? Have you finally learned your place?”

“Little mouse.” The moniker stung. He’d given it to you after the hunt—days spent running, hiding, clawing for freedom through unfamiliar woods, only for him to find you anyway. Then, he’d spoken it with amused frustration, as though you were nothing but a challenge to be conquered. Now, it dripped with something worse: affection.

You didn’t respond. You kept your head down, gaze fixed on the cracked stone floor beneath you, your body stiff, your hands clenched into fists in your lap. Defiance was dangerous, but submission was worse. Silence had become your only shield.

He sighed, low and almost theatrical, and crossed the room with that same measured ease. The heavy cloak trailing behind him dragged across the filthy floor, but it was the sound of him kneeling that made your pulse spike. A gauntlet found your chin, cold and unrelenting as it tilted your face upward.

“Look at me.”

You kept your eyes down, fixed on his chest plate instead. That earned you a smile—a slow, humorless thing that did nothing to soften his sharp features.

The wall cracked beside you as his other hand slammed into it, the force reverberating through your body. Your breath hitched, but still, you refused to meet his eyes.

“I said,” his voice dropped lower, rough with warning, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed, dragging your gaze upward until it met his. His eyes glowed in the dim torchlight, a shade of smoldering amber that seemed to see straight through you. A faint scar bisected his jaw, catching the light, only serving to amplify the cold menace etched into his expression. The smile that followed was almost tender, and that frightened you more than anything else.

“There you are,” he murmured, as though he’d just found something precious. His fingers trailed down your cheek, leaving a chill in their wake. “Why must you make this so difficult? I’ve been so gentle with you.”

Gentle. The word curled in your stomach like spoiled food. You’d seen his version of ‘gentle’—chains that bit into your skin, meals drugged just enough to rob you of strength, whispers that dismantled your resolve piece by piece. There was nothing kind about his hands, and you despised that you’d begun to flinch when they moved.

“I brought you a gift,” he said suddenly, as if announcing a grand surprise. Reaching behind him, he pulled something wrapped in cloth and unfurled it at your feet. The bundle hit the ground with a sickening thud, its contents rolling free: a severed hand, pale and twitching, fingers curled in death’s final spasm.

You recoiled, bile rising as the smell hit you.

“He was skulking near the wall,” he explained, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “A rat with foolish ideas of taking what’s mine.” His eyes locked onto yours, unblinking. “You see, little mouse? This is what happens to those who try. I won’t allow anyone to steal you from me. Ever.”

The word was soft—almost tender—but its weight crushed you. You didn’t speak, couldn’t, but he noticed the way your lips trembled. His smile faltered, his grip returning to your face with enough force to make you wince.

“Say thank you,” he ordered, his voice still quiet, but far sharper now. “For keeping you safe.”

It was a choice between words and consequences—one you’d faced too many times. Shaking, you forced the words out, a broken whisper.

“T-thank you.”

Satisfaction bled into his features, and his grip loosened, though it left behind the sting of bruises. “Good girl,” he said, voice velvety with approval. “You see how much I care for you? No one else can keep you safe. Not like I can.”

The hand lay beside you, still and silent now, the fingers splayed like some obscene offering. Your eyes flicked back to him, unable to hide the fear he drank in so greedily.

“Remember that, little mouse,” he whispered, leaning closer until his breath skimmed your ear. “No matter how far you run, no matter how hard you fight, you’ll always belong to me.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut, its echo sealing you back into the dark. You sat motionless, heart hammering as the silence crept back in. The severed hand lay inches away, a macabre reminder of his promise—one that choked the last flickers of hope out of you.

Because he was right.

Where could you possibly go?

[yandere-wishes]

⚜ 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖! 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕩 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ⚜

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Been kinda depressed lately so this was all I could come up with.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : "Player of Games" by Grimes

𐙚 Would you still love me? Out on Europa? ~💜

☆★☆★☆★☆

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, whose lust for adventure leads him on a dangerous quest to rescue a poor kidnapped princess from the clutches of a deranged dragon. He's only ever sought out the thrill of the hunt, an adrenalin junkie desperate for the next rush. Fighting beasts and exploring new lands all for the sake of frivolity and adventure. But this time...this time things are different. His heart beats between his teeth when he catches a rogue glimpse of the fair maiden seated by the etched window. From the first look, he knows he'll fight hordes of monsters in her name, bring giants to their knees to gain her favor. From the first look, he knows he's in love...

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who kills the dragon and carries the princess home. All the way breathing in her intoxicating scent, he dreams of running his calloused fingers through her silky hair and whispering sweet poems of devotion into her ears. He asks for her hand from the king, practically begging him to let her be his bride. He needs her, more than anything else in this unholy world he needs her.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who still craves adventure even when he's married. Who drives himself crazy on the lost tunes of adventures. Beckoning, beseeching, it's as if demons screech within his cranium. He needs to feel the familiar cool of metal nipping at his flesh. To feel the weight of his sword within his palm once more. So he leaves. if only for a short time. Promising to bring his lover treasures unimaginable. If only it were that simple.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who loses himself to the thrill once more. Fighting for a darling who is locked away again. He promises he's not the dragon, not some monster trying to keep her stowed away. She's back home with the king and queen ruling over a kingdom. It just so happens that her lover is fighting for that kingdom. Traversing new lands and bringing back priceless treasures. He does it all for her because he loves her

Maybe that's why it stings so bad when -on the rare occasion he's back home- his darling tells him, that she's been engaged once more. This time to a prince. The Knight has his fair share of scars, he's been wounded countless times. Yet memories recall no such wound that hurts as much as this one. When his darling informed him of her eagerness to be married off to a proper prince. It takes all his willpower to not strangle her then and there. The love of his life is to be married off to a spoiled brat who knows not of sword fighting and war. A boy seeped in gold and dotted on his whole life. He wouldn't be a good husband, he's too soft, too frail. He'd run once the monsters came. A mere prince can't protect his darling as he can.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, whose madness runs deep. He kills the king, the queen, and the prince. Declaring himself overlord. Conquer, conquer, conquer. It's the only way he knows to keep his darling by his side. His darling is a queen now. A queen in shackles and chains, but a queen never the less and one who will forever remain by his side.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who doesn't mind ruling as much as he previously thought. Who enjoys having his darling perched on his iron-clad lap as he proposes plans to capture new beasts for the kingdom's army. Who watches as his -and his darling's- kingdom prospers under their leadership. At night he holds her tightly, intoxicating himself with her sweet perfume once more. His heart races when he recalls how close he was to losing her.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who is left heartbroken and enraged when he finds out his darling has escaped. Who hunts her down through enchanted woods and cursed terrains. When he finally catches her, he can't help but be reminded of chess, a move where the queen is finally captured. He kisses her deeply, wholly, trying to drown her in his love. Has she forgotten the romance they once shared? Has she forgotten the lengths he was gone -and will still go- for her? Oh, how careless he had been...

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who will do anything for his precious princess, his darling queen, his beloved. Who will remind her just how emphatic his love truly is...

[sketchygabz]

“For without you, my Master…my existence…my existence means nothing.”

[lenoraslament]

Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to the Masterlist!

My name doesn’t matter. Insatiable Slytherin gal. Pisces ENFJ. Morally ambiguous characters are ✨

I am now taking requests. I write for Slytherin boys mainly but I can also write for Bridgerton and Gilmore Girls.

One shots are at the bottom

First are posts related to my three part Tom Riddle Fanfiction. All three parts are on my Wattpad

* indicates smut

^ indicates romance

+ indicates dark themes/angst

Lenora was cold, smart and cunning. Until. Until that night. Two mudbloods stole something from her, a piece of her she couldn't get back. She finds solace and healing in the unlikely ally of her longtime acquaintance Tom Riddle.

Wattpad Link

Chapter 9 Excerpt: Insolence +

Chapter 12 excerpt: Moment in the Library ^

Chapter 16 excerpt: Apparating ^

Chapter 20: Pleasure *^

Chapter 23 Excerpt: Malfoy Ball ^

Chapter 28 Excerpt: Good Girl ^ (*in the Wattpad chapter)

Chapters 33&34: Revenge and Satisfaction *^+

Chapter 35: Aftermath ^*

Chapter 36: Make Me Forget *

Chapter 38: Punish Me *+

Book 2 Lenora’s Love:

Lenora was Tom Riddles everything. Until he had to Obliviate her memory. Now they are brought together for the summer, as he continues to build his dark legacy the death eaters. Their love is inevitable; even with Cygnus Black trying to intervene. Will the truth out?

This book whole chapters cross posted to Tumblr but if you want to read on Wattpad

Part 1 Summary / Say Yes to Heaven ^

Lenora arrives at the Malfoy Lakehouse and leaves Tom breathless

The Rose Garden ^

Tom watches Lenora from afar much to the chagrin of Abraxas

Why Not Tom Riddle

Lenora wonders about the change in Tom Riddle not realizing she was obliviated

Hard to Resist^

Cygnus grows closer to Lenora

Firestarter +

Lenora accidentally reminds everyone just how powerful she is

Worth It +

Tom and Cygnus duel, Abraxas confronts Lenora

Flawless ^

Tom continues to confuse Lenora, Delia appears for the first time since the Malfoy Christmas Ball

Strumpets *^

Lenora catches Tom doing something unsavory, she pushes to be a deatheater

Overprotective

Lenora tries her best to be respectful and discovers something useful

Lust Potion *^

Delia gets revenge on Lenora, Tom tries his best to resist Lenora

Despair +

After being humiliated by Delia, Lenora wants to prove herself as a deatheater no matter the cost

I Love You ^+

Tom nearly loses Lenora for good.

Pain is a Price +

The long term repercussions of Lenora’s potion are discovered

High and Mighty

Tom proves his leadership while being absolutely faded.

Flowers for a Lady ^

Lenora is made a deatheater but isn’t sure what to make of this new side of Tom.

Dowries and Dark Marks +^

Tom tries to figure out how to get Cygnus Black out of his hair as they both chase after Lenora

Pillow Fight +^

Cygnus Black wishes Lenora goodbye, making her lash out at Tom Riddle

Tawdry ^

Lenora forgives Tom and then is forced to play the temptress

Make Me ^

Tension finally comes to a head between Tom and Lenora at the lake

Cozy^

They simply can’t stay away from eachother.

Crash Into Me^

Tom and Lenora continue to push and pull, Abraxas catches them

Tom Riddle the Romantic ^

Tom Riddle goes way out of comfort zone

A Proper Date ^

Tom and Lenora finally have a real date

Anchored*

Lenora wants more from Tom than his horcrux

How it Always Should Have Been*^

Tom and Lenora make love

Time Doesn’t Bow^

A snapshot into 6 months of bliss as Tom and Lenora stay together

Lying *

Cygnus Black returns, Lenora catches Tom in a lie

Disillusionment +

Lenora learns the truth of everything that happened before Tom obliviated her

I Lost You+

Tom’s proposal goes awry, Lenora gets revenge

I Hate You+

Lenora broke Tom’s heart but he gets the last word.

One shots

Tom Riddle

Hot Mess Part 1

Hot Mess Part 2 *

Infatuated

Careful What You Wish For *

Mattheo Riddle

Careful What You Wish For *

Theo Nott

Some Plumber ^*

Lorenzo Berkshire

Finally Requited pt 1

Slytherin Boys React

Perfume Preferences

How they would Overstimulate You*

Edging Orgasm Denial *

You took Lust Potion *

Romantic Moments ^

Free Use *

Dance with Me ^

[thesandsofelsweyr]

How often would AK!Jason drink? What kind of alcohol would he into? Would he mind getting drunk with his S/o?

Jay doesn’t have a hard stance against alcohol like he does drugs. Hard liquors, like tequila and vodka, help him cope with his trauma, but he gives those up when he finds himself abusing it (his parents' struggles with addictions had a huge impact on him.) He also enjoys beer (especially high-gravity beer brewed in Gotham) and red wine.

As far as getting drunk with his s/o... it really depends on how far their relationship has progressed. He's vulnerable when drunk, and vulnerability is not something he likes sharing with his partner—he wants to project that confident, fearless, cocksure persona that we see in the game. He's also a control freak—a side effect of having every shred of control forcibly stripped from him—and while he may be okay with throwing caution to the wind when he's alone and trying to drown his demons, he certainly doesn't want anyone else seeing him that way, especially when they're in a position that they could take advantage of him if they wanted. He'll be damned if he ever puts himself in that position again.

Even if you two have been together long enough for him to be willing to trust you with his vulnerability, he's probably never gonna go farther than being buzzed around you. Besides, a buzzed Jay who lets a goofy adorable smile slip on his full lips is way more fun than a brooding plastered Jay, heh.

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 11)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 11 -

We continued to lay low and time crawled by. Our movements were largely nocturnal, only venturing out of the Parkview Asylum complex at nightfall to a corner store for essential supplies. As J's injuries were healing he became more and more agitated, pacing up and down like a caged tiger, often muttering to himself. I could tell he wasn't accustomed to having to wait things out, but he was deliberately planning things very carefully - making the smarter play meant allowing his body to heal and letting the dust settle.

I had walled myself off from him again since my lapse of judgement and control on the first night. My robotic interactions with him didn't seem to bother him too much. I figured he either was banking on me coming around eventually, or was too preoccupied with weeding out the traitors in his ranks to care about my sudden change in behaviour.

I was startled awake one night when he shook me out of an otherwise oddly peaceful sleep. Waking up and seeing him looming over me, I scrambled upwards and out of the covers in surprise.

"We're leaving," he said flatly.

"W-what? Why?" I asked, blinking in the dark and clinging protectively to the blankets.

"We've stayed in one spot too long. It's time to move," he added, dropping my little cardboard box on the bed.

I hurried to get up, stashing the knife and screwdriver in my pocket again and he picked up the handgun from his side of the bed.

"We will need to get rid of this," he muttered, sliding it into his waistband for the meantime. I noticed that he was no longer wearing the sling.

"The arm's better now?" I asked tentatively as we replaced the bedding and plastic sheet before quitting the room.

"Near enough," he replied.

We wound our way back down the hallways and staircases to the entrance. I felt relieved to be leaving the godforsaken relic of Gotham's twisted past to rot. Nature was slowly reclaiming it, pulling it back into the earth - and that was the only comfort about the whole place. The car's engine rumbled to life and J put the heating on full blast to try and clear the fogged up windows. It was another bitterly cold night and I could see my own breath.

I soon found myself by a bridge watching J lean way too far over the barrier for anyone with a reasonable fear of their own mortality to hurl the stolen gun down into the darkness of rushing waters below us.

"Even if they find it, the water will wash away traces of any fingerprints and DNA, though they likely won't bother looking to begin with," He announced smugly.

I wondered how many other things had been hurled down into the cold waters below us. Knowing the city we were in, there were innumerable possibilities. People even... I shivered. The cops had condemned me to that sort of fate, I was as expendable as any other piece of junk sitting in a heap down there.

I felt dizzy just looking at the sheer drop as I clung to the barrier between my body and oblivion. As I was being buffeted around on the stormy sea in my mind, I hadn't noticed J stalking over to me like a big cat in the tall grass.

Strong arms linked around my waist from behind and began to lift my feet from the ground. The feeling of being suddenly airborne immediately set me in a panic and I began to struggle. In reality, he had probably barely hoisted me a foot or two off the ground, but I hated heights.

Not heights specifically, but how being exposed to them made me actuely aware of my own mortality and the endless possibilities of pain in the breakable body of a human being.

"Put me down!" I screeched in protest.

"No, I think I need to dispose of the rest of the evidence," he said sternly.

I couldn't tell if he was being serious.

"Please, i'm not joking - just let me go!" I begged.

"You sure about that?" He laughed, suddenly letting me drop.

I lurched forwards towards the railing for a moment, before he caught me by the waist. I jolted even further forward, feeling the railing dig into my ribs as I met it. My feet were on the ground again, and without being lifted higher or climbing over the rail, my centre of gravity was too low to go over it, but I still felt in danger. The shock of thinking for a moment that I really was going over it had felt like a stab to the chest.

My body was screaming at me to get away from the edge of the bridge. My eyes stung with the beginning of tears in the cold breeze. He pressed close to me, trapping me between his body and the barrier, which was digging into my mid-section.

I felt his cheek brush against my temple as he bent his head down to speak into my ear.

"Doesn't it excite you?" He asked.

"That wasn't funny," was all I managed to say, choking on my words.

"Ah come on, I wasn't going to throw you over there, doll. You know that."

"I don't know that. And i'm not good with heights," I said, shaking.

"Listen," he said leaning the full weight of his body against mine, "you're not going anywhere."

The way he said it and the feeling of being pressed between him and the barrier, his arms wrapped tightly around me, did make me feel anchored to the ground. I felt my tense muscles relax a little.

"Just look down," he said.

"I can't."

"Look. Down." He commanded, a little harsher in tone.

Reluctantly, I did as he told me and peered down at the long drop into the murky river below. I felt the fear rise in me again, prickling up my spine.

"Don't look away."

"I - I can't," I protested.

"Don't look away," he reiterated, unwaivering.

I continued to look at the way the river was churning below, muddy and silent. Deceptively quiet from up here, as the immeasurable amounts of water surged out towards the old docks in the distance. If you really had fallen in, and the height of the drop hadn't shattered your bones on impact, you'd have been swept along with such force that drowning seemed inevitable. This wasn't the sort of water you could swim or even tread water in. It was a chaotic force of nature and inspired a kind of morbid awe in me. Strangely enough this wave of feeling seemed to displace the fear.

"Does it make you feel alive?"

"I guess... it's more, like, it's more that it reminds me of how impermanent everything is. Like Parkview crumbling back into the ground... nature endures."

"We live. We die. We rot." He added, his voice rumbling out from his chest like some kind of running engine. I thought more about it as I continued to scan the view below.

Suddenly, he startled my sense of relative peace by separating from me and hopping over the barrier. His feet were now on the ledge as he stood facing the bridge, his back to the sheer drop into the river.

"What are you doing?"

He ignored my frantic question as he positioned himself directly in front of me.

I gripped the cold metal of the only boundary separating us tighter, whitening my knuckles. The disturbing thought crossed my mind for the briefest of seconds that I could push him and as my eyes met his, he had a knowing look on his face. He slowly pulled both of my hands away from their tightly locked grip on the bridge and placed them on his chest.

My head was spinning. Why would he make himself so vulnerable like that? Did he have total conviction that I wouldn't push him, or did he enjoy the slim possibility that I might do it? I searched his face for some kind of answer but didn't find anything conclusive. I stayed frozen like that for a while, the two of us standing on the edge of oblivion.

When we hit the road again, we drove in silence, until the car rolled into a run-down motel on the fringes of the city limits. J wound a scarf around him and pulled it up over his scars. I shook my hair loose around my face so that my own were less immediately obvious.

"Name?" Squinted the wrinkled old lady behind the reception desk as we stood opposite her - looking dishevelled.

A cloud of thick cigarette smoke seemed to hang around her as she tapped her latest into the ashtray.

In a panic, I blurted out an answer.

"Luna."

"Surname?"

Again I panicked. I had to say something and fast.

"...Tick," I mumbled out.

J shot me a sideways glance as if to say, 'you've just fucked this up for us'.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly feeling bone dry.

"Luna... Tick?" She said dubiously, peering up at me over her reading glasses.

"Yes, my parents were pretty cruel for that one, don't you think?" I laughed nervously.

I somehow managed to convincingly pull off years of frustration that the name would have wrought. She smiled weakly.

"Well, maybe it's not all that bad, Luna is quite a pretty name..." she offered, clearly trying to offset the awkwardness she had brought by failing to hide her surprise.

I nodded sheepishly.

"And who is this?" She nodded towards J, still with the scarf wound over the bottom half of his face.

"That's my fiancée. He's mute, i'm afraid."

I looped my arm through his, trying to make our soon-to-be-married status more convincing.

"Oh," now she looked deeply piteous, "just sign here please."

I scribbled "L Tick" and she tore off the hand written receipt for me. Then I put down the crumpled bills for a two night stay and she handed over the key.

"Here ya go sweetheart. It's back outside, up the stairs and second on the left, you both take care now," she waved us off hurriedly.

Once we got inside the room and shut the door behind us, J erupted into laughter. The suddeness of his outburst made me nearly jump out of my skin.

"You," he pointed a finger at me, "I thought you had us rumbled, but somehow you got her to believe that!" He said, shaking me by the shoulders before he finally relented, unwinding the scarf and throwing himself down on the bed - still reeling with the odd aftershock of laughter. I smiled faintly as I hung up his coat on the hook by the door.

"Well, who knows if she really believed it, maybe she just didn't care..." I sighed, sitting beside him on the bed.

I looked around us. The room was like a 70s time capsule; beige and brown everything, from the wooden funishings to the thick blackout curtains. I could see through an open door that the bathroom was tiny and avocado in colour scheme. I was pretty sure from the cigarette burns on the bedside dressers and the yellowed ceiling that not one of the room's previous occupants had obeyed the faded no-smoking sign plastered to the door. Still, compared to Parkview it was warm. It had electricity and hot water, two things I had taken for granted until I was left without.

I felt a great swell of pity whenever I thought about how many people in the city were at the mercy of the cold. The homeless, the people forced into the squats and slums of the narrows. People left to die, preferably unseen and silent, in the minds of the men and women at the top of the ladder - heights you could only reach with blood money, corruption, and exploitative wealth, whether you were born into it, or a newcomer.

As I got under the covers and clung to my side of the bed, trying desperately to calm my frazzled brain, the girl from the dress store appeared there. I wondered what she was doing right now and I hoped she was happy and safe. Maybe she was also tucked up in bed somewhere. I briefly imagined that she wasn't plagued by the hostage situation... but she probably was. From pure physical exhaustion I finally drifted into the darkness of sleep, long after J's occasional bouts of snoring indicated to me that he was dead to the world already.

I stirred a couple of times in the night, struggling to calm my restless mind. At almost 4am I woke up, suddenly cold. J had his back to me and seemed to be mumbling something as he was hogging all of the duvet. I reached across to try and drag some of it back, hoping he'd just notice and loosen his grip. Instead, my increasingly frustrated tug of war caused him to roll over half onto me as the bedding finally gave in my direction. A heavy arm was now draped haphazardly across my torso. I realised that he was still in deep sleep as I watched the corner of his mouth twitch, and he mumbled something unintelligible again, his lips barely even parting to make words. I was fixated - seeing him this way was so strange.

In sleep, his face looked deceptively innocent and I wondered what he could be dreaming about. Who was he really? Before he'd appeared in Gotham, did he have a normal life? Everyone has a past... even people like him didn't just materialise out of thin air. Psychologically speaking, there was almost always an escalation. A spiral. A 'ramping up'. Often, though not always, there would be catalysts. Something significant. Endless possibilities ran through my thoughts.

But trying to apply these lenses to someone as mysterious and confusing as the man beside me was fruitless. Trying to gather any kid of tangible piece of his past was like trying to outrun nightfall, or trying to retain grains of sand spilling out from between clenched fingers. It felt like he really had just appeared one day, like the batman, a kind of mythical figure. Perhaps he was some kind of vengeful spirit, sowing chaos and disorder, or a harbringer of bleaker times ahead for this already bleak city of rot. Maybe he had rolled in on a desert storm, like the villain in an old Western, or one of the plagues of Egypt. It was hard to see any pieces of the man standing at ground zero...

I could feel his breath tickle my shoulder as he shifted a little, leaning still closer. I took in all the minute details of his unpainted face. The curve of his jaw, the shape of his brow, the delicate eyelashes... and his scars. I was still entranced, gazing at the little forked one which rose up into his lower lip, when his voice pierced the silence.

"You know," he murmured, eyes still closed, "it's a little creepy to stare at someone while they sleep."

I immediately felt defensive and embarassed to have been caught. He opened his intense brown eyes to look at me, staring into my soul for a moment. I sheepishly tried to look away but I felt paralysed under his gaze.

"I didn't mean to," I protested.

"Don't lie to me, or to yourself. What's the point?" He sighed, closing his eyes.

I wanted to protest, but he had got me there, so the words wouldn't come when I tried to summon them. He yawned and stretched out lazily, before returning to the exact same position - with his arm draped across my body. This surprised me, as did any trace of behaviour that could be considered affectionate, not least of all from him. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the ceiling, but I didn't move him away from me - a kind of fence-sitting gesture. Testing the waters, he moved closer, laying his cold hand flat against my warm ribs where my t-shirt had ridden up and planting his head against my shoulder. I didn't know what to make of this so I stayed perfectly still in his half embrace. He was silent for a while, and I thought he might have drifted back into sleep until I felt him bury his face further into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. My skin felt as though it was burning with each breath he exhaled against it.

"Why do you do it?" He murmured.

"Do what?" I frowned.

"Why do you keep fighting for restraint?"

"I, I don't want to lose control, to be powerless."

I felt his lips trail up to my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Does following the rules really make you the one in control?"

He was mumbling the words against my neck and I was struggling to stay focused on the conversation rather than the physical responses he was stirring in me.

"I don't know... my mind is so tired. For once I want to let myself not know."

"The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules," he sighed, as he pulled me into a tighter embrace.

"Some rules are bullshit, sure, but some are important. Some shouldn't be broken," I pressed back.

He let out a hum of derision, but it sounded lighthearted rather than angry - It didn't feel like he was suggesting I was stupid for disagreeing.

I thought for a moment about my apartment, and the life I had vanished from. What was there to go back to? Even if I chose to run from him, I was likely left without a job and the bills wouldn't stop while I scrambled to find a replacement. Even if I took the first thing I could get my hands on, the wage would be pathetic. I was at serious risk of ending up on the streets, or having to take to something illegal in one way or another to keep my head above water. To make matters worse, chances were high that the crooked cops would try to seek me out.

"Would you kill me if I tried to leave?" I finally spoke.

He seemed to give it some thought as he sucked air through his teeth and drummed his fingers against my ribs.

"No," he answered finally.

"Why not?" I asked, feeling more uncomfortable than relieved.

He shurgged non-comittally.

"Would it make you feel better if I did want to kill you?" He asked mockingly.

"No - I don't know!" I snapped.

"Are you going to leave?"

"No... I don't have anything to go back to, and I think those cops might be out for my blood," I sighed rubbing my forehead to try and relieve the stress headache I was getting.

"Well, the GCPD don't tend to like it if you cause bodily harm to any of their officers, even if they are as twisted as a corkscrew, speaking from experience," he grinned.

"If I stay, what will you do? It feels like no one in this city does anything out of good will. Everything has a price."

"If you stay, the only thing I'll ask of you is that you don't interfere with my plans."

"That sounds suspiciously easy..."

He looked gravely serious for a moment.

"And what if that pesky moral compass of yours tells you what I'm doing is wrong?" His voice had dropped low into a more sinister register again, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end.

"I thought you didn't like rules?" I muttered, wondering if I could make such a promise.

"Some rules are important," he echoed my own words.

"Okay, how about this? If I can't hack it, I'll walk away. I won't interfere, and you let me go."

He pursed his lips as he mulled it over.

"Hm, those aren't the terms of the deal I just laid out."

"Well, I like to keep you on your toes," I teased, hoping he would accept my compromise.

"Alright (y/n), we'll play it your way - but I mean it. If you break your promise, I might just be forced to break mine."

I knew by this he meant his promise not to kill me, but it didn't bother me as much as it should have. Maybe he was right that I did have a few screws loose. Abruptly, he slid his other arm underneath my body and pulled me into an almost crushing embrace. In the coils of the serpent I should have felt afraid, but I felt protected from the harshness of the outside world. I found myself playing with his fingers as everything began to slow down. Even my ceaselessly noisy brain seemed to be winding down enough for me to drift into sleep. I couldn't remember a time where anyone had held me like this, or a time when I had let anyone...

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

[cj-ghostemoji-destielpie]

⚠️⚠️⚠️PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE ABOVE SCREENSHOT BEFORE CONTINUING!!! ⚠️⚠️⚠️

This is my fic btw 💖 it'll only get worse. Chapter two will be posted soon and it's... F-d up.

Royal Tastes, by Dragonborn_Eldenlord on AO3.

Chapter 1: The Young King, The Cannibal Knight, The Dead Knight:

Sir Hannibal Lecter. A knight, ruthless and merciless in his quests. Or hunts, as he calls them.

Hannibal was infamous among many kingdoms as the Cannibal Knight, or Hannibal the Cannibal, that ate his enemies as a show of strength; not a popular habit. Most Knights hated or reluctantly accepted their jobs, but he reveled in the bloodshed. The scars, the agony, the screams, the light fading in his victims eyes, blood gurgling from their mouths or dripping from shallow wounds til they slowly bleed out… He saw beauty in it all.

Hannibal was visiting a kingdom he hadn't visited in a good twenty years or more; the Ophiuchus Kingdom, named after the serpent constellation due to the multiple snakes that infest the forests. Ophiuchus was infamous. The past rulers were known for their vicious and violent tactics, for their greed and gluttony. The only reason Hannibal was coming here in the first place was to and get in the good graces of the new ruler, as they had recently had their coronation if rumors were to be believed.

Walking into the throne room, Hannibal noticed the grandiosity of the palace. The new King is obviously doing some remodeling since there's multiple portraits stacked in a corner, many of which are torn. Hanging on the walls in their place are tapestries, animal hides, and furs, making the throne room have more of an animalistic, wild, and feral vibe.

Hannibal noticed the lack of the King as the throne was momentarily empty but he knelt anyway, the dark gray metal of his armor scraping against the expensive tiled floor; dark inky black tile with gold outlines and occasional intricate designs. He kept his head hung low, and soon he heard the footsteps of who he presumed to be the new King.

“Sir Hannibal Lecter, at your service, my Lord,” He greeted, head still positioned towards the dark ground.

"My apologies, Sir Lecter, but I'm not exactly... Educated on the proper etiquette of societal expectations for how I'm supposed to act and talk so I hope you'll be patient with me. Stand. I'm Lokka La’Rose, new King, blah blah blah. Killed the last King because he was a dick, so on and so forth," Lokka says casually as he perches on the arm of the fancy throne, not even looking at Hannibal as the Knight stands, instead he's briefly frowning in distaste at the gawdy throne before finally looking back at Hannibal with curiosity, golden eyes slowly taking in Hannibal's armor clad body and handsome face.

Hannibal stood, looking at the new King now fully. He seemed young. At least, younger than most rulers. If he's an adult it's just barely. His outfit—well, it lacked any form of royalty. Wearing something like that in court would make him the laughing stock of all the nobles. He's dressed in simple hunter-like garbs; a simple dagger on his hip, faded animal hide trousers and shirt. His curly hair is messy but pulled back in a low ponytail to keep it out of his face.

There's an old ugly scar running across his face that somehow danced between both eyes without harming them. And his eyes are peculiar as well; unnatural gold, reflecting all light, and feline-like with slit pupils.

"No worries, there's nothing wrong with not knowing etiquette. You’ll learn, it’ll feel like second nature in no time at all, Your Highness,” Hannibal studies the scars on the young King's face, "May I ask how you got those?”

"The scar? I was eight years old, a starving orphan, tried stealing from some noble man and he actually noticed and decided to teach me a lesson. Left me with a scar so I'd be reminded of the consequences of theft. Instead it just reminded me of the power imbalance in the Kingdom and the greed of the rich.”

Hannibal stayed silent for a moment, his eyes locked onto the other man. He studied the scar again, as it ran across his face in a jagged line. It had clearly scarred over years ago, but it still looked quite prominent. He knew the old King, and he was a greedy man, for sure. He thought the entire Kingdom was a piece of him to flaunt around. And many of his nobles had the same mentality.

"I see. You didn’t deserve that, child," He said the word in a somewhat condescending tone, though his facial expressions didn’t change from their almost emotionless state.

A small quiet huff of amusement escapes the King, “So, what are you here for? You requested an audience with the King. I know I'm not probably who you expected but I suppose I can still hear your piece and possibly assist.”

Hannibal smirked at his slight amusement, finding the King somewhat amusing. He began to circle around the throne, eyeing the golden details. He then came back to the front of the throne, locking eyes with the young King who'd allowed the Knight to pace and circle around him, looking entirely unthreatened.

"I didn't expect y ou , no," He paused for a moment, "Though I heard that you killed the last King. Tell me, was it worth it?”

Lokka tilts his head in thought, ".... worth it for the people....perhaps not for me though. I didn't want to be King. I just wanted there to be change. But no one else had the power to do it.”

Hannibal nodded slightly, silently admiring his slight vulnerability. He seemed to have thought about it a lot. He crossed his arms behind his back, shifting his weight to one foot. He seemed to look him up and down again before speaking again.

"You did this for the people, not yourself. That’s very admirable, Lord La’Rose.”

"Thank you, but please, just call me Lokka. I'm still not used to that title… and you're interesting enough to keep around and befriend.”

"Very well, Lokka ."

The way Hannibal says the King’s name makes the young King shiver and his cat-like pupils dilate.

Hannibal tilted his head downwards slightly, his arms behind his back casually and nonthreatening but somehow still imposing. The boy seemed somewhat shy, but somewhat confident, at least for speaking to a Knight that was feared by many for his bloodthirsty killing. He took a few steps closer to the throne.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?”

“17,” The young King states simply.

Hannibal nodded as an indication of acknowledgement, slightly impressed that he had managed to kill a man—let alone a King—at that age. There was clearly a lot of determination and courage, perhaps some foolish bravery as well. He took another few steps, now being a few feet away from the throne.

"Ah. Young and full of life," He teases.

Lokka gives a small playful smirk, "I've heard of you, Sir Lecter. Hannibal the Cannibal . The Cannibal Knight . Are you here to add another man to your diet or are you after something else? I'm not easy to kill so I'd think twice if I were you,” His tone isn't threatening, just playful but with a hint of promise.

Hannibal chuckled dryly at Lokka’s comment, his hands still behind his back. Hannibal seemed amused by Lokka, intrigued even. Lokka was a curious thing.

" You're smarter than you look, kid ," He paused for a moment, looking into his odd eyes, before continuing, "And you seem a tad bit cocky for a young Lord.”

“Fake it til you make it," He says with a simple shrug, a hint of insecurity in his strange eyes.

Hannibal chuckled, noting a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, studying him a little closer.

"You're not confident, are you?" He teased him, finding a way to get under the new king’s skin.

Lokka shrugs, unperturbed, “No, I'm not. But I'm stubborn and spiteful so I'm planning on sticking around as King for a long time. At least until I find a suitable heir."

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgement, somewhat impressed by Lokka's determination and stubbornness. He seemed like a boy filled with ambition and power…and yet so vulnerable. So…breakable.

He'll be fun to break . Hannibal thinks to himself with a secret smile.

" And when you find that suitable heir, will you simply pass the throne over to them without a fight?" Hannibal asked, taking a small jab at him.

"I'll train them, have them educated on the life of the nobles and the poor, make sure they have decent morals and a support system, and then I'll peacefully step down, give them the throne when they're ready, and perhaps stick around as an advisor or something if needed.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows raised slightly, impressed by his thought-out plan. He had clearly thought it through for a while, which he respected.

"So you already have a plan in mind, that's quite…ingenious." He paused for a moment, "And you're sure they’ll be fit enough to rule your kingdom?”

"I've no idea. Haven't met a suitable heir yet. Enough about that though. What is it you wished to accomplish with your audience with the King, Sir Lecter?”

Hannibal chuckled at him, slightly amused. Lokka was clearly done talking about the subject for now, which Hannibal was willing to respect. Sometimes you have to play the long game when playing with a new toy you wish to enjoy breaking.

"Ah. Straight to the point. I like you, Lokka." He commented, now towering over the shorter man, "I simply came to offer my services to you—to the kingdom, I mean.”

Lokka gives Hannibal a small playful smile, not bothered at all with Hannibal towering over him- most Kings would've had Hannibal thrown out for the attempt at appearing imposing or threatening, instead Lokka just peers up at Hannibal in amused interest, "You wish to be my knight?" He basically purrs sweetly.

Hannibal found Lokka's lack of fear for him amusing, almost down right hilarious. Most rulers would be intimidated by a man like him, but the boy didn’t even seem slightly bothered by it. Hannibal found it quite interesting.

"Yes, of course," He said, somewhat amused. "I am the best in my field. You’d be unwise to decline my services, kid.”

Lokka chuckles, "Most would be practically begging or at least respectful when offering their services to a King, even a young and naive King enjoys respect instead of being called a kid," Lokka says with a playful smile, casually crossing his legs as he remains perched on the arm of the throne.

Lokka studies Hannibal for a long few moments, golden cat-eyes piercing and intelligent as he takes Hannibal in, like a wild cat studying its prey. Slowly he returns his gaze to Hannibal’s.

"Ask again." He says, a small smirk tugging his lip, “maybe with a pretty please ?" He asks, basically taunting Hannibal.

Hannibal was taken somewhat aback by his request, his eyes widening a slight bit. He had expected him to be polite and shy in his response, not demanding and confident. Hannibal’s smug expression soon faded away, the slight teasing look still in his eyes.

"My apologies," He began, his expression almost blank by now, "I'll be respectful , like you'd like."

He took a deep breath, knowing he was going to hate it.

"May I please be your Knight, Your Majesty, Lokka ?”

Lokka giggles in honest amusement, golden eyes lighting up with joy before he schools his expression.

"hm...no," He says before smiling again. "I'm not going to waste your services as a common Knight. If you'd like to work for me, I'd rather you be my main security. Top knight, Housecarl, or whatever the fancy noble terminology is. I've heard of your skills and I'd love to see them in person. I've had multiple attempts on my life within just a week so I imagine you'll get a chance to prove yourself interesting . If you grow bored of being a bodyguard, then I suppose I can send you out to play with the other Knights. Does that sound appealing enough to you, Sir Hannibal Lecter ?”

Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up at Lokka's words, surprised. He was expecting to be a regular Knight of the castle, which was just fine. But security for the King? That was unexpected, but he was very much intrigued by the offer. And it would make it easier to toy with the King and slowly break him.

"That sounds very appealing," He commented, his smirk returning once again, "I agree to those terms.”

"Good. Splendid. Hope you don't mind explaining the seemingly stupid noble jargon the people here keep expecting me to understand. Do you understand the purpose of so many forks for one meal?" He asks, tone switching from the teasing playful to genuinely open and curious

He chuckled at his question, amused by the King’s clear lack of knowledge of the social rules.

"Of course. And I know the noble jargon.” He explained. "And it’s stupid, honestly. There’s so many rules for a simple meal. A commoner would eat an entire turkey with their hands, while Kings and Queens have to use specific forks and spoons for specific items of a meal. And don’t even dare to use your hands; you’ll be chastised by the etiquette police.”

The King sighs dramatically as he lays across the throne, "Everything has so many ridiculous rules and yet the commoners are more concerned with surviving, which is more understandable. Why so many forks when hands work just fine? It's stupid…”

"I think I'm going to like you, Sir Lecter." The young King says, rolling his head where he lays across the throne to look up at Hannibal.

"Perhaps I may say the same," Hannibal replied, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He studied him for a moment, admiring his confidence, especially for a young king like him.

“ Goddesses ! I need to get rid of this throne !" He jumps off of it dramatically, a good three feet in the air before landing on his feet in a squat like a feral cat before slowly standing like a normal human, "that thing is so ridiculously uncomfortable. And such an eyesore . Like, we get it! This is a throne! But if you're going to show off wealth you may as well use it for something comfortable . Especially if you're expected to sit in the evil thing for days on end and play nice with other nobility.”

Hannibal was surprised by Lokka's sudden outburst and unexpected agility as he jumped from his throne, not expecting him to be nearly as physically adept as he was for a King or a human. He let out a dry chuckle as he stood next to him.

"Most nobles and royalty don’t care about what’s comfortable. They just care about what looks good and makes them look better than everyone else," Hannibal replied dryly.

Lokka huffs and crosses his arms, glaring at the throne like a petulant child who was just told that he has to eat his veggies before dessert, “Well I'm not most kings. If I could have that replaced with a recliner I would... I suppose I'll just settle for having this fancy throne melted down to coins and donated to the commoners, maybe the orphanage. Then I'll just feckin' carve a nice throne from some cherry wood perhaps and get some nice comfy- but I suppose fancy fabric- cushions to line it with."

Hannibal chuckled at Lokka's…rant, finding his determination for a more comfortable throne quite amusing. He tilted his head to the side, studying the younger man.

"A cherry wood chair," He repeated, a single brow quirked, "With plush velvet cushions," He added dryly with a slight tone of mockery. He was clearly holding back his laughter.

The King huffs and throws his hands in the air with dramatic exasperation "Ye have better design ideas, Sir Lecter?”

Hannibal let out a few dry chuckles at his dramatic actions before replying with a smirk.

"Maybe. I was thinking something a little more… aesthetic ," He said, thinking over the design in his mind, "Dark oak. Gold or a dark material for the trimmings. Soft light fur as a cushioning.”

"....I might actually be able to work with that...I'll sketch something up and have you look it over,” the King says after actually seeming to seriously be pondering over Hannibal's words.

Hannibal hummed, finding him quite amusing. Who would’ve thought a newly crowned King would ask for his input on a throne design of all things? Hannibal had to hold back his smirk at Lokka's eagerness.

“Of course. I’ll look it over once you have it sketched up, Lokka.”

"....so," Lokka clasps his hands and rocks slightly in place, "I'm supposed to play nice and be all Kingly for a few more hours today. One of the servants told me that there were a couple different knights and messengers from different kingdoms coming today- aside from you. I was even warned that at least one messenger is going to try and get me to marry some King's daughter from a neighboring kingdom," he says, looking disgusted but hides it mostly, "Are you ready to play advisor/bodyguard today or do you wish to have a servant show you to your new quarters and start tomorrow?”

Hannibal could sense Lokka's disgust in his voice and almost chuckled but contained himself. It seemed he disliked the prospect of having to listen to someone ask him to marry someone’s daughter for political purposes. He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest once again.

"I’m quite ready. And if any messenger does decide to try to convince you to marry an ugly daughter, I’ll be your bodyguard and advisor.”

"I'm not concerned with their looks , I'm just opposed to marrying some girl I don't know nor wish to know ," He says simply, reluctantly sitting back on the throne, though properly this time. He glances at the grand fancy clock across the throne room, "The next person should be here soon. Don't remember if it's a knight or some noble, or a messenger though.”

Hannibal watched as Lokka sat back down on the throne, this time properly. He still found the throne to be a little gaudy looking, no amount of proper sitting would change that. He took a few steps closer to the throne, positioning himself on the right side of him.

"Well, whoever this next person may be, I’ll be right here," He replied, referring to his position beside Lokka.

Lokka gives Hannibal a small smile, "Good boy," He says playfully, but praising, and before Hannibal can snark or react, a servant enters and announces the arrival of another visitor; another Knight.

Hannibal’s smirk quickly faded in surprise with Lokka's playful praise, his cheeks taking on a slight red hue. He was not expecting him to say that, but he quickly shook it off. He refocused his attention back towards the entrance to the throne room as the servant announced the arrival of another Knight. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the Knight carefully for his mannerisms.

The Knight was mature in age, probably around Hannibal’s age. His armor was shiny and well-polished; he's probably rather stuffy and hasn't actually seen many battles. He entered the room rather arrogantly—like most Knights were—and began to speak in an overly cocky tone.

“Your majesty, I am Sir Charles,” The Knight said, standing in the middle of the room, not bothering to take a knee or bow or show any respect, making Hannibal curl his lip in distaste.

Lokka tilts his head, studying the man, "Sir Charles... I'm Lord La'Rose. What have you come here to ask of the new King of Ophiuchus?" Lokka asks, all previous playful energy gone, in his place is now a serious calm intelligent King.

Hannibal noticed that Lokka even used his title this time, instead of being casual like Lokka had been with him. The change was sudden. Happened as soon as Sir Charles entered, only a brief moment of Lokka sniffing the air prerequisites his personality shift when Sir Charles entered.

Sir Charles was taken aback by Lokka's sudden and unexpected shift into a completely different person. From a giddy, happy, young King to a stoic, serious individual in a matter of seconds. He paused for a moment, almost intimidated by the change, but eventually responded.

"Well, your majesty, I have come to… congratulate you.” He replied, the word ‘congratulate’ sounding almost bitter coming from his lips.

"hmmm... Is that so? You could've just sent some gift like most of the others singing my praises lately," Lokka doesn't sound cocky despite his words, he actually seems uncomfortable with the thought of being praised for what he'd done, "So, what else is it you wanted from me, Sir Charles, aside from wasting my time?”

Sir Charles was once again taken aback, clearly not expecting the King to brush off his praise and assume he was just there to waste his time. He stood silently for a few moments, almost shocked, before speaking up again.

“I wasn’t just here to give my congratulations, your majesty.” He replied, his tone somewhat snarky and somewhat irritated now. “I also came to request something.”

"speak, no need to dawdle.” Lokka says when Sir Charles doesn't get straight to the point, making Hannibal fight a proud smirk.

Sir Charles let out a snort, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a few steps closer to the King.

“If you’d be so kind, Your Majesty, I was hoping you’d send a few of your troops to help us in a little battle we’re having.” He explained, the tone in his voice still demanding.

"A little battle?" Lokka asks, a single brow raised, "Why? Plead your case, Sir Charles.”

Sir Charles let out another snort, his arrogance seemingly taking control as he spoke again.

“My kingdom has been at war for over a year now. We just lost a significant amount of soldiers and are requesting backup.” He said, as if the reason was obvious and simple. “It would be immensely appreciated if you would send whatever soldiers you can spare.”

"...you have yet to explain why you're even at war or why I should be inclined to help. Perhaps I'd rather help your enemies, hm? What say ye to that?"

Sir Charles stood silent, shocked, for a few moments. The arrogance on his face now faded into disbelief. Obviously, he hadn’t expected the King to be so indifferent and ask for a reason to send soldiers to help.

“The reason for our war…” He repeated, “Why- the reason is…”

He paused for another moment, trying to come up with a reasonable response on why they were at war and why they needed his help. A good reason. One that wasn't seeped in greed.

Lokka chuckles, darkly, in amusement, before speaking with a light disturbingly kind tone despite his words, "Give me a good reason, Sir Charles, before I send you back to your King without a head.”

Sir Charles almost staggered backward in shock, horrified by the King's response. His dark amusement and the threat of beheading him if he can’t come up with a good reason was enough to nearly make Sir Charles piss in his armor, but he managed to stay composed. Mostly. He swallowed thickly before replying again.

“We’ve been at war with our neighboring kingdom for years now. A war we can’t win without you. If you do not help, Your Majesty…” He paused once again, his voice wavering slightly, “We will be overtaken and lost.”

"Still," Lokka says, casually standing from his throne, and slowly walking down the steps of the platform to the main part of the throne room, gesturing with one hand casually for Hannibal to stay, back for now, "You've yet to explain why you're at war. Just that you are and that you're losing." Lokka's tone softens to an almost teasing seductive tone as he nears Sir Charles and raises a hand to gently caress the taller older man's cheek and tilts his gaze to meet his eyes, "so... Explain to me, Sir," Lokka practically purrs, "why," he traces his fingers over the Knight's pulse point, "you need me?”

Sir Charles froze as the King suddenly approached him, his hand gently caressing his cheek and moving his head to face him. The sudden shift in his tone and attitude to something more seductive and playful shocked him, his heart almost stopping as he felt his slender fingers tracing over his pulse point.

He inhaled deeply, unable to find the words to respond. His words got caught in his throat, but he eventually began speaking despite the dryness in his throat.

“I- We…” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"ooh, has a cat got your tongue?”

Sir Charles tensed his shoulders, his cheeks turning a slight pink at his words. It didn’t help that Lokka was so close to him, his slender but firm and calloused fingers still gently caressing his pulse point. Sir Charles swallowed again, his words stuck in his throat like a frog for a few moments.

“N-no.” He managed to stutter out, cursing himself for stuttering like a boy with a middle school crush.

The King chuckles playfully, dancing around behind the large Knight and draping his arms over the man's shoulders from behind, wrapping his arms around the man's neck and resting his hands teasingly on the man's chest armor.

"hmmm..." Lokka hums in thought, glancing over to Hannibal, "Sir Hannibal, what do you know of Sir Charles and his Kingdom?”

Sir Charles tensed more as the King began to dance around him, jumping slightly as he suddenly draped his arms over his shoulders. He immediately tried to look at whatever Hannibal’s reaction was to the King’s action, his stomach twisting into knots at the King’s forward and almost…flirtatious behavior.

Hannibal’s eyes remained fixated on the pair, his head tilted to the side observing the King’s behavior, and Sir Charles’ reaction. He noted his tension and how he seemed almost afraid of the small young King.

The boy continues to surprise me…

"Don't tell me a cat's got your tongue too now, Sir Hannibal," the young King calls out playfully to his Advisor and Knight, "Do you know of Sir Charles or his Kingdom? Feel free to speak your mind, Sir Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s eyes flicked over to the King as soon as he spoke up, his eyes narrowing for a moment before his normal, calm demeanor returned to him. He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised with the King’s almost childish behavior. He took no issue with it, it was almost…endearing…

Hannibal glanced back at Charles for a moment, observing his behavior further, before speaking up in his usual polite but crisp and composed tone.

“I know of his kingdom and his cause. I also know of his king.”

"Hmm," Lokka hums, teasingly nuzzling his face into Sir Charles' neck from behind, though from where Hannibal stands, Hannibal can see the way Lokka curls his nose in disgust at whatever he smells, or just disgust for the Knight Sir Charles in general.

“Continue to speak your thoughts, Sir Hannibal. What's your opinion? Since you know of him and his King. Should we help them? Why are they in a war?”

Hannibal noticed the way the King’s nose curled in disgust as he nuzzled into the Knight’s neck. That was interesting. Clearly, there was more going on than a simple plea for help. Hannibal kept that thought in the back of his mind for now as he continued to speak up.

“They’re at war with their neighboring kingdom because of a fight over land.” He explained, “Their King wants to expand his kingdom and is willing to take it by any means necessary, even if it means going to war.”

"Hmm...." Lokka hums, tracing his hands teasingly in a sexual manner over Sir Charles chest armor from behind as he continues to nose Sir Charles' neck, "pathetic," he hisses out before suddenly biting down and tearing into Sir Charles' neck, tearing out a large chunk of his flesh and causing blood to gush from his artery.

Sir Charles drops dead to the ground, a few brief gurgling noises before he dies. Lokka is now covered in Sir Charles' blood but looks unbothered. More annoyed with the blood on the beautiful tile throne room floor than anything else.

Lokka whistles out a sharp note and a servant enters.

"Maria, darling,” Lokka says sweetly, almost apologetic, and it seems genuine, “Can you have the gardener get rid of this one like they did with the King? You and the servants may sell or keep whatever he has on him. I'll need someone to clean this blood out of the floor. Again."

Hannibal’s eyes widened in utter shock the moment the young King suddenly bit the Knight’s neck. He stood speechless for a few moments, unable to speak or form any words or coherent thought. Everything about this moment was so…unexpected..

And strangely attractive.

Hannibal watched as the King called in a servant named Maria, almost stunned as he listened to what the pair said. He was still trying to process what just happened, and it almost felt like he was dreaming.

Maria nods and quickly fetches a few other servants. Soon the dead Knight is gone- a handsome but awkward looking man, the gardener presumably, fetching the body and carrying it out- and there's a servant cleaning the blood up. Lokka walks slowly back up to the throne and stops a few feet in front of you.

"Do you still want this job?" Lokka asks, unknowingly licking the blood on his lips.

Lokka's mouth, jaw, neck, and the front of his shirt is soaked in blood from Sir Charles.

"I promise to play nice and let you leave without harm if your answer is no. Though I will be sad if you do choose to leave.”

Hannibal’s eyes remained fixated on the bloody, almost gorey scene before him, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood on the floor.

He stayed silent for a few moments as he finally registered his question to him, his eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. His usual stoic features were now replaced with slight shock and awe. He wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this, it was all so…unexpected…

“I…I do still want the job, Your Majesty.” Hannibal says with a small stutter, surprising even himself. It's not fear though that makes him stutter. Something about the way Lokka looks with blood dripping from his chin is just… delicious. Maddeningly so.

"hmm... Very well then," Lokka turns and looks back at the servant currently cleaning the floor, "Maria? Sir Hannibal and I will be gone for a few minutes. If any guest comes, please apologize for the wait and have them guided to... I don't know where, just somewhere nice and keep them entertained and fed til I return. Understood, doll?”

Maria, a young, brown-haired, and freckled servant, looked up as the King addressed her. She paused for half a second before nodding her head. She didn't seem afraid of him despite the gore and violence.

“Understood, Your Majesty. Will do.” she says simply.

"Good." Lokka says with a soft smile to the girl, though the blood on him ruins the attempt at a kind image.

He turns and gestures for Hannibal to follow as he leaves the throne room and heads for his private chambers.

They're not the original King's Chambers- far too casual and not as overly decorated. There's still nice furniture and a sitting area but it's also decorated with multiple books filled with notes and scribbles in the margins, animal hides and leathers tossed everywhere, half finished crochet and wood carvings and leatherworking projects everywhere.

Lokka leads Hannibal in and practically ignores his presence as he goes to his wardrobe and pulls out a nicer but still not exactly Kingly clothes; simple black pants and a long sleeve black shirt. He changes and washes the blood from his face at the water basin before finally turning to look at Hannibal, not caring that he'd stripped down to his boxers and undershirt in front of the other man since the boxers and undershirt hid the parts of himself he likes to keep hidden from everyone who doesn't need to know his secret.

"So, any opinions or questions as to why I killed that Knight? You're allowed to speak freely. I won't give you the same side of me I gave him.”

Hannibal took the invitation to speak his mind, taking a moment to properly organize his thoughts before beginning to speak.

“You’ve clearly got a distaste for people who you see as weak, a person like the late Knight.” He began, keeping his voice and tone calm, and his words precise and careful to avoid sounding disrespectful. “Perhaps the Knight said something, or you simply got…fed up with him.”

The King chuckles softly, "hm, good theory but not quite, Sir Hannibal," He says as he sits on one of the couches in the sitting area of his private chambers, "I was going to kill him the moment I smelled him- I'm not a normal human if you haven't noticed yet."

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he fully assessed the king now, taking in his unnaturally keen sense of smell. This kid was far more than he seemed. He slowly walked over to the same couch and sat down a few feet away, keeping his usual polite composure still.

“You’re a werecat.”

Hannibal stated, not asking but saying it like it was factual.

“Precisely," the King says with a chuckle.

This was a very interesting development, to say the least. Werecats were relatively rare. Hannibal noted that Lokka's eyes resembled that of a cat. Sharp, unwavering, and almost predatory in a way.

“I assume you could smell that he was a coward…” Hannibal mused out loud, pausing for a moment as he noted more differences about the King.

“I did not kill him for his cowardice. But rather what I smelled on him- what he'd done- before he'd dirtied my Kingdom with his presence."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, intrigued to know what he smelled on him. He never would’ve expected such a young king to be so…violent. The death was so vicious and sudden, and not to mention messy. And it was all over a particular scent.

But God, was it beautiful…

“What did you smell on him?” Hannibal questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.

A murderous snarl tugs Lokka's lip, but not at Hannibal, rather the Knight he'd killed, "He smelled of children, suffering children, at least two. Two whose scents were far too different from his to have been his offspring. And scents that reeked of fear and pain. He'd harmed them. I dare not dwell in what ways."

Hannibal’s eyes momentarily darkened as he listened to the kid’s reply. Child abuse, a particular weakness of his. His hatred for it was almost as strong as his cannibalism.

For a split second, Hannibal suddenly felt a pang of…admiration. The kid had a sense of justice, in a way. A strange moral sense of delivering justice but still. He wasn’t a normal royal, that’s for sure.

“Is that why you killed him the way you did?” He questioned, masking his previous internal admiration and remaining composed and polite.

"Yes.”

Hannibal didn’t know how to feel about the King being so…unapologetic and straightforward about his violence, yet he found it almost refreshing and…charming. Usually, nobles danced and tiptoed around the subject and acted disgusted or horrified when acts like this were brought up.

“A brutal, yet justified death.” Hannibal muttered under his breath, speaking his thoughts out loud by accident.

"I'm glad you think so," Lokka says softly, head tilted slightly as he looks up at Hannibal.

Hannibal noticed his head tilt, taking in the small action further. He couldn’t help but find it…cute. The little King was clearly not an ordinary King, especially for his age. He was young, wild, and violent, and yet there was an almost endearing quality to him. Almost like that of a small, feral creature.

Hannibal's eyes drifted to the King's lips.

Soft and stained a faint red from the blood that he'd just washed off.

Lips that had parted to kill a man.

Lethal but beautiful lips that Hannibal wants to-

------

The gif of Hannibal covered in blood belongs to @bloodydancy ☮️💖

[igot-the-juice]

The Scarred - Chapter 7

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

As Penelope slipped her key into the lock of her apartment door, her hand shook. Almost expecting him to be in her living space once more. However, when it opened and no one was there, there was no relief to be felt. It was only a matter of time that he showed his face to her again, and it didn’t have to be whenever she got home. It could be at any moment, at any time, at any place. The only comforting thought about the situation was that he hadn't killed her. She assumed that if he wanted her dead, she already would be.

Penelope made her way to the fridge, pulling out leftovers to reheat for a quick dinner. As the microwave ran, she stared at the countertop in thought, facing the living room.

Even if no one else was there, his presence somehow lingered. She recalled his scent, however disturbing it was. She remembered the smell of gasoline and smoke, yet it held a sweet undertone. Burnt sugar, almost. Never would she have thought that he would have smelled of anything even remotely sweet.

She shook her head, itching to get those thoughts out of her head just as her microwave sounded. Switching the TV on, she bundled up in her blanket, food in her lap and started nibbling away. It was a good enough distraction for the time being, however temporary. And when she finished, she debated if she would even be able to sleep.

Putting the dishes away, she pulled out her phone and went to her call history, deciding on not being alone for the night. After the phone rang a few times, it picked up.

“To wha’ do I owe tha pleasure, miss?” Penny smiled lightly.

“Would you mind having company tonight? I can’t sleep…” Her voice faded at the end in embarrassment.

“I’ll do ye one better and ‘ed o’er ta yer place, yah? Tha’ way we can work on ya feelin’ safe in yer own space again. ‘Ow’s tha’ sound?” The woman took a deep breath in thought.

“Okay… Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Be o’er in a minute, miss.”

She decided to keep her bandages on with him coming over. It was uncomfortable, yes, but she couldn’t help but feel naked with them off in front of others. Not even Emma has seen her without them. She wasn’t sure if she would ever take them off in front of anyone, no matter who it was.

Barely over a minute later, there was a knock at her door. She peeked through the peephole, making sure it was in fact Liam before opening it for him. “I’m sorry if it’s a bother -“

“Oi.” Liam cut her off. “What’d I say abou’ apologizin’?”

“Right.”

“C’mon now, let’s get ya some sleep, yah?” He rested a hand on her back and led her to her bedroom. Liam decided to stay above the covers while she climbed underneath, her head in his lap while he draped an arm over her. He watched as her eye finally began to close, keeping a close eye on her until she fell asleep.

“J -“ The woman gasped. Her mind was clouded with the movement of his hands as they caressed her. Her mouth was parted, eye fluttered shut and head tilted back against her soft pillow as he guided her into oblivion. Their mixture of sweat and pants only ignited the atmosphere and he buried his head in her neck to lick a trail up to her jawline, earning a shiver beneath him.

Her eye opened again to see a face without the paint. A bare face with maniacal scars resembling a Cheshire smile. Yet the face itself was all too familiar. A face she hadn’t seen for years. It brought nothing but comfort and security.

The bell above the door rang as she stepped into the warmer air. She trudged towards her chair, energy dampened from the night before. Just as she took her seat she heard footsteps coming from the back, heavier than usual.

“You okay, Emma?” She tried. No response. The footsteps grew closer, louder, heavier.

“Yeah, just moving this bad boy to the front.” Emma grunted as she waddled a heavy and filled vase through the doorway. Penelope let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Don’t scare me like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She practically shrieked.

“You wanna come over here and carry this and try having a casual conversation?!” She exclaimed with hands on her hips after setting the vase down. “I’m too old for that, I nearly broke my back.” She exhaled while dramatically wiping her dry forehead. Penelope chuckled to herself and the woman tossed her a look. “I’m gonna go grab some water from the store, you want anything?”

“I’m good, thank you though.”

“What? You said you want lemonade?”

“No -“

“Lemonade, got it.” She backed out the door. “Cya!”

“Geez!” Penelope jumped from her seat, the unique voice popping through the doorway of the back room. “I was wondering when she’d stop all that racket.” The Joker vocalized shamelessly, a natural habit she’d been coming to find out. Penelope’s original fear slowly drifted into irritation.

“You have a bad habit of catching people by surprise.”

“Oh - well the reaction is the best part!” He meandered his way over to the front of the counter. “Besides yours. You were a little bland this time - do better.” He leaned his forearms on the wooden surface.

“As in there’ll be a next time, I’m assuming?”

“See? Ya get it! These people really need to start catching on. They never seem to take a hint, ya know?”

“How’s that when you apparently kill nearly every person you meet?”

“You watch too much of the news, they only ever show the boring parts. So much goes on behind the scenes that nobody knows about.”

“And why’re you telling me this?”

“Can’t a guy just have a conversation?”

“You’re not just ‘a guy’.”

“And you’re not just a girl, hm?” Something glimmered in her eye. “Oh - come on - try and tell me that I’m wrong. Go on, do it.” Silence followed, but Joker patiently waited. “It takes one to know one, toots.” He clicked his tongue with a wink. “Don’t get it twisted.”

“Why’re you here?”

“I have a proposal.” He stepped back to round the counter. “Proposition?” He rolled his eyes. “An offer.” He jumped up to sit on the counter directly next to her, her head following his every move.

“Which is?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say an offer, cause I’m not really giving you a choice -”

“What do you want me to do?” He paused, eyes rolling over to her with a devious look.

“I want to show you what it means to really have some fun.” His voice took on a darker, more serious tone.

“I don’t think you and I have the same definition of ‘fun’.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try, hm?” Her eye drifted off in thought.

What is he playing at? She asked herself. Even if she wasn’t being forced, she couldn’t deny her curiosity getting the best of her. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him drew her closer. It made her want to know more about him, why he did what he did. And going through with what he offered may give her some answers, no matter how dangerous it seemed. And what did she have to lose, anyways?

“Midnight at the docks. I’m sure you know that area very well.” He looked at the clock on the wall before hopping off of the counter, slapping the counter with a gloved hand before heading towards the back room. “Cya then, toots!”

Just as he left, Emma walked through the door to see Penelope giving her a confused expression.

“What?” She asked in her own confusion. Penelope just sighed and rested her head on her hand.

As the work day came to a close, a jolt of nerves flooded her abdomen. She left the shop, bidding her goodbye to Emma before turning to make her way to her apartment. The lavender smell that usually provided comfort only made her nauseous with anxiety, deciding against eating even with a growling stomach. It wasn’t purely nerves, however. She was anxious, and dare she say a little excited.

Penelope simply showered, got dressed and plopped onto her bed in a poor attempt to get some sleep before heading out. The soft ticking of her nightstand clock filled the otherwise deafening silence, creating an illusion of it growing louder with each tick.

She wasn’t sure when, but she eventually found sleep. It didn’t hit her until she woke up. She jolted upright, snapping her head towards her clock.

11:27.

Another batch of nerves struck her. She took a deep breath and moved towards her bathroom, reapplying new bandages. As she pressed on the last bit, she made eye contact with herself in the mirror, practically snarling at its reflection before aggressively turning away from it to put her shoes and coat on.

The city was eerily quiet, except for the occasional drunkard and criminal walking the streets. She debated on walking, but being how late it was, decided that driving was safer. It was an ironic statement considering what she was getting herself involved in. Who she was getting herself involved with.

She slowly rolled into the parking lot, seeing a black van already sitting in it. No doubt, it was The Joker. She put the car in park and stepped out, two men she didn’t recognize following suit soon after. One had a bag in his hand, both had rifles hanging around their torsos. The one with the bag stepped forward, and then everything was black.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Fourteen

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn't know is she's getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Taglist: @dragonballluver, @disgraceful-marvel-trash, @barikawho, @claudiahxrdy , @christianbalefanatic , @librarianafterdark , @rosegxoxo , @lilizia, @tOuch-starved-h0e

NOT MY GIF

================================

Demetria woke up greeted by the warmth of Bruce’s bare chest against the side of her face. Between the sound of his heartbeat and his fingers running through her hair, she nearly lulled herself back to sleep.

But she wasn’t sure what time it was and exactly how much time she had left before she’d lose him forever. She needed to make this moment count.

“Is it morning?” she whispered.

“We have some time before the sun rises.”

She laid her head back down as memories of the night before flashed in her mind. She had given him everything. Every inch of her belonged to him and it would for forever.

She exhaled softly. “I was looking forward to waking up next to you for the rest of my life.”

He rest his forehead against hers. “All I wanted was to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The palm of his hand cradled with cheek. He took her in, knowing he would hold onto this moment for as long as he would live.

“Bruce?”

“Yes?”

“Is there anything else I can do to talk you out of this?”

He shook his head in response. “I have to do what’s right.”

She pursed her lips back. “What if we ran away together? Just you and me.”

“I cant say I didn’t think about that,” he sighed. He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s just enjoy this moment, ok?”

She nodded and rest her head. “Demetria.”

She looked up at him, his eyes piercing into his.

“I will never tell you I don’t love you.”

===================================

A couple hours later, Demetria found herself packing a suitcase.

“Would you like some assistance?”

She glanced up to see Alfred standing there. She gave him a small smile.

“I already tried to stop him,” she said.

“Rookie mistake, Ms. Gallagher.”

She chuckled and threw the shirt into the suitcase. She looked at the old man, amazed he could not only keep his composure but also pretend as if nothing was wrong.

As if what Bruce was about to wouldn’t turn his world upside down too.

“Alfred, are you gonna be ok?” she asked.

“Quite alright,” he reassured. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“But once this gets out, they’re going to come for you too.”

“I can handle myself perfectly well, Ms. Gallagher. Although, I do appreciate the concern.”

He took her hand in his. “I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I truly enjoyed our time together. For a long time I had hoped he would settle down with a nice girl and when I met you, I knew you were the one. While I wish things were different, it’s been a privilege and an honor serving you.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she wrapped her arms around him. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“You’ve managed before and you’ll manage again.”

He pulled back gently. “It will be nice to do the crosswords without unwanted help.”

For the first time that day, she smiled. “But you’ll miss it.”

He gave her a nod. “I will.”

She excused herself and went into the nightstand where she pulled out an envelope and handed it to him.

“Inside has my mother’s address on it and home phone number, ok?” she said. “If you need anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate.”

He put the letter inside his jacket pocket and gave her a nod.

====================================

Demetria opted for caramel-colored, felted trench coat with a plain tee underneath, some jeans, and some sneakers. She knew she needed to blend in as much as possible so no one would give her a second look let alone a second thought.

“Keep your head down as much as you can,” Bruce gently told her. “Stay hidden until you’re with your mother. The second I’m able to call you, I will.”

She nodded, tears falling down her cheeks. His face softened as he wiped them with her thumb.

“You’re going to be ok,” he assured gently.

She leaned her head into his chest. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

She lifted her head and the tears in her eyes nearly made Bruce give up on letting her go.

“This is for your own protection,” he told her. “I need you to know that.”

And upon realizing there was no way out and that he would not change his mind, she nodded her head.

“The car is downstairs,” Alfred announced from the kitchen.

Demetria turned around and made her way out the door, repeatedly reminding herself not to look back not matter how much it pained her not to.

As she stood in the elevator, she felt her phone vibrate. Her heart leapt, hoping for it to be Bruce calling.

It wasn’t. It was Harvey.

She pressed decline.

==================================

As “luck” would have it, her train was delayed by an hour. She sat in the terminal and scrolled through her old text messages with Bruce.

She yearned for the days where Bruce was listed as “Handsome” in her contacts, where they would send messages to each other about funny or crazy things that happened during their day. It was their way of keeping each other in their lives when they couldn’t be seen together or Demetria couldn’t hide in the penthouse.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through this. She could lie for him and for her and her family’s safety. But, watching him be taken down for only trying to help the city would kill her.

Just then, her phone rang and Rachel’s name appeared.

“What’s up?” she answered with a sigh.

“Please tell me you’re not on the train.” The worry in her tone made Demetria’s posture straighten.

“I’m not. My train was delayed-.”

“Meet me in front of the station. I’m picking you up.”

“What’s going on?”

“Harvey just told everyone he’s Batman.”

[deadnymaster]

72 minutes left people!! Maybe it got already launched when you are watching this!!

Please reblog for more sonic fans for see it because this is going to DEFINITELY be a lost dream if you don't do it

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Grim Tales

Bargain

Blake could only watch in horror as Jaune was stabbed through the heart by Adam's blade. Seconds felt like an eternity as he was pushed to the floor and his once vibrant blue eyes had suddenly turned dull. She screamed out his name, crawling to him in desperation.

Blake: *reaches to Jaune* Jaune! No! Please. *shakes him* You can't do this to me. No. Please no. *cries* Jaune!

Blake looked at Adam and raised her hand. A small, purple coloured magic circle appeared and a panther-like shadow beast emerged, lunging at him. Adam scoffed and simply cut it with his sword. Blake momentarily left Jaune and drew her tantō, whispering a spell to enchant it. It glowed purple and she charged towards him. Her attacks proved fruitless, as Adam's swordplay was devastating, yet refined. Each blow she tried to land was effortless parried. Seeing an opening, he grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her up.

Adam: Did you honestly think that you could beat me with that pathetic excuse for magic?

Blake: Ack! Y-You monster! *stabs Adam's arm*

Adam barely had a reaction, not even a flinch. Instead, black liquid began to seep out of the wound and seemed to shift. It began to crawl up and down his arm, slowly enveloping him until it spread all around his body and transforming into jet black armour. Blake was horrified.

Blake: Adam... what have you done?

Adam: *chuckles* I have surpassed the weakness of humanity. I offered you a share and what did you do? Cast me aside like I was nothing. But I don't need you or the White Fang anymore. I'm part of a new era, one where I'm promised the rightful title of ruler among you and the Faunus.

There were no words left for Blake to say. Her best friend, her brother, was gone. It may have Adam's face and voice, but not his soul. For the first time in her life, she felt truly defeated. Adam grabbed the tantō from his arm and stabbed Blake right in the abdomen.

Blake: AAAAAAGH!!!!

He threw on top of her dying husband and slimy, black wings protruded from the back of his armour. As flew off into the night, Blake reached to Jaune's cheek and stroked it.

Blake: Forgive me, Jaune.

* * *

The voice of Blake was ringing in Jaune's ears. He tried to open his eyes, but he could feel an intense, burning heat that kept them shut. Blake's voice began fading and in its place was a deep, sharp growl.

???: Jaune.

Jaune: Wha? What the-?

???: Jaune Arc.

Jaune: Who are you? What's going on?

???: Open your eyes.

Jaune slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a dark, desolate landscape. Volcanoes were erupting and the sky was a deep red. Surrounding him were all types of Grimm, hungry and itching to kill. Jaune jumped back and tried to reach for his sword. But it wasn't there.

Jaune: What the hell? Where's Crocea Mors?!

???: Even if you had it with you, I doubt you'd be able to fight all of us by yourself.

Jaune turned around and saw a large, indigo dragon-like man sitting atop a black, bony throne. The Grimm growled gently and all bowed their heads to it. Jaune couldn't believe it. He was the presence of the progenitor of Grimm.

Jaune: Y-You're the God of Darkness.

GOD: Indeed I am. Though you'll forgive my curiosity as to why a man of your virtous character ended up here. You're far from perfect, but you hardly belong in the Land of Darkness.

The God of Darkness stood up from his throne and approached the young man. Jaune slowly backed away, terror coursing throughout his body. The dark dragon stared deep into his eyes with intense focus, not even blinking once.

GOD: Oh... now this is interesting. In your heart lies vengeance and a deep desire for bloodshed. Oh we could use that *chuckles* Someone has wronged you.

Jaune: I... I... I remember being stabbed in the heart. By... *gasps* Adam!

GOD: I know him. One of my finest soldiers. Or at least he used to be. *walks to throne* Tell me, boy, how much do you desire Adam's head?

Jaune clenched fists. He thought back to all the times he and Blake were pursued by Adam. Countless deaths of innocents had followed him, including that of the White Fang. To see him betray his own family like that, who raised him, cared for him and taught him the ways of a Magic Knight, made Jaune furious. And now he had taken him from his beloved wife and son. Tears ran down his face.

Jaune: I'll do anything. Anything.

GOD: *smiles* I see. I can offer you a chance at revenge, a chance to see your family again. But, I require something in return. You must serve me. You must become my Grimm Knight, slaughter my enemies and become my weapon! *clenches fist* In exchange, you shall be stronger, faster, more dangerous than you will ever become with your pitiful human magic. Will you do it?

Jaune: I will! Whatever it takes, just promise me that I'll see Blake and Anthony again!

GOD: It shall be done. But swear your loyalty to me first.

Jaune didn't hesitate to bend the knee.

Jaune: I Jaune of House Arc, hereby swear my loyalty to you. I will be your weapon to vanquish all who stand before you. I will be your servant of darkness. I will make Adam pay for what he did to me.

The ground below him cracked and hundreds of small tendrils latched onto him, piercing bits of his skin. Jaune grit his teeth as he tried to bare the pain. The tendrils shifted into dark armour and his chest bore an emblem of a dragon's skull. Jaune's once luminous, blonde hair had now become white as a ghost.

GOD: You now serve me. Rise, Wyvern.

Jaune rose his head and gave a threatening, guttaral roar. His journey to retribution had begun.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 6/6]

Synopsis: In the last chapter of  Dark Knights of Steel: Ash and Blood, the League meets Luthor and his men at the field. Attempts of diplomacy are made but Luthor throws all peace talk and demands for war.

The ride to the Fork was quick and without attacks made from their enemies. Good, that meant Luthor had not crossed the fork and passed their defenses. Arriving at the camp, they have removed the magic that hid them from Luthor’s spies, and as they expected a squire from Luthor’s men came with a letter requesting a meeting between leaders of the forces. 

“I’ll go,” said Bruce. “As a representative of House El.”

“I’ll go as well,” said Kal-El. 

“My Prince,” Bruce was about to argue but his brother raised his hand to stop him. “We represent House El. You are a prince just as I. The heir, Bruce. I should be the one at the front lines.”

Bruce looked down on the ground. Does he want to be king? Turning to Vivian who was discussing with the Lords of her Vassal Houses, he remembered their night together and the possibility of the consequences of their actions. She shouldn’t be there at all nor be at the meeting, her lords said, and he would agree, but Vivian, as the last of House Pryor and for everything that Luthor did to her deserves to be there and show the man he made a mistake for all he has done.

“My Lady, you are the face of House Pryor, you cannot risk yourself! What about our people?” Vreeland said.

“Gotham stood with a Council of Five and it will continue to do so even in my absence,” Vivian told them. “As the leader of this council, I will join them. This is a diplomatic meeting.”

“Do you really trust them to uphold their word?” Vreeland scoffed.

“The Lady Vivian will not go alone nor will I leave her side with Luthor around,” Bruce approached the Council of New Gotham. 

That was enough to have the Council of Gotham finally agree to letting Vivian go. They joined other leaders and their flanking soldiers. When Vivian was to get on her horse, Bruce lift her off the ground and did it for her.

“I could have done it myself,” she told him.

“I am still your Sworn Sword, it is my duty to protect you and to help you,” Bruce reminded her and got on his own horse beside her. “Stay close to me.”

“I will,” Vivian said.

“The armor suits you,” he complimented her, admiring the black, red, and gold armor she wore for her protection. 

Before she could say anything back, Diana called out their advance and their horses were running to meet with Luthor and his men in the middle of the field. 

~ * ~

Seated on his horse, surrounded by the bannermen made by the two sides, Luthor, Elliot, and the others lords of Gotham greeted the arrival of the League starting with the Queens Diana and Pierce, then the Princes Kal-El and Bruce, then Vivian.

Luthor smirked as he got up to greet Vivian.

“My love, you have finally returned,” Luthor opened his arms to her.

Vivian glared at him, and he saw the way the Bat-Prince held his sword.

“We were surprised by your invitation,” said Diana as she leaned forward on her saddle.

“And we were surprised by your armies,” said Elliot. “Lady Vivian, you look well, and I see you have sided with the enemy. Have you forgotten what they have done to our people? To Gotham?!”

“It is with Waller we have a war with not the Els,” Vivian told him.

Elliot scoffed. “Is that so? What deal have you struck to suddenly be one of their little puppets? We heard about New Gotham from the other travelers, how did you get that? Did you spread your legs for them and they did as you as —”

“Speak like that to the Lady Vivian again and I will have your tongue,” Bruce sneered.

“Ah,” Elliot smirked. “I see now…”

“If your reason for this meeting is to humiliate Lady Vivian then we will end this peace talk now and end the war here,” said Queen Pierce. “After this I will not tolerate another word that will humiliate, berate, or is an assault towards Lady Pryor. Do so and I will fry you with my lightning. Is that understood?”

“This is an attempt at diplomacy,” Queen Diana added. “And we do this with proper decorum or an attempt for single combat.”

“Luthor, Elliot, spare your men and we end this here now,” Bruce challenged them. “Single combat. Choose your champion, I do not care who, I will break them.”

Luthor and Elliot smirked. And Luthor said, “You will not like it, Wayne. But we did not come all this way for the odds to be answered by single combat. House El should never have stood, you are from another world and you cannot be trusted. You have desolated our lands and—”

“Do you speak for yourself or for Gotham, Luthor?” Vivian spoke up. “Do not talk as if you knew our pain. You do not speak for our behalf. If you are here to wage war against the Els and throw them out of this world, don’t use our story. Use your own. A man whose House was thrown to exile because his Father put his own ambitions first before the kingdom.”

Luthor glared at Vivian. “I preferred you quiet. I see your time with the Els have made you insolent.”

“Insolent?” Vivian scoffed. “You demand subservience, Luthor. You find pleasure in it. You want to dominate others to make up for what it is you lack.”

“And what is that?”

“Honor.”

Luthor scoffed. “Is that all?”

“That was me speaking kindly and adhering to the decorum of this diplomacy. Do you want me to really say it?”

Diana and Pierce smirked at her reply and dared Luthor to come at her for it. Anyone—everyone knew now what Vivian meant and some of the soldiers hid their snickers behind their shields.

“You bitch,” Luthor sneered. “I will have you first and I will have your body danging from the walls so I can take every last drop of your blood.”

CRACK! BOOM!

Lightning struck the ground just beside Luthor’s horse, startling the creature.

“A warning,” Queen Pierce’’s eyes glowed with her lighting. 

“Considering all you wish is to insult Lady Vivian in this meeting, we take it you had no plans for peace talks at all. Then we should take our leave,” said Kal-El.

“Give us Pryor and we will not bring out our beast,” Elliot spoke.

Beast? The leaders of the League thought in confusion.

“What Beast?” Diana asked.

“One that can crush your Kryptonians.”

“Lies.”

“We have created an army of undead, do you really think we cannot build one?” Luthor countered. “Give us Pryor and this will be a fair fight.”

“Nothing about this is a fair fight,” Bruce said. “We will see you at dawn.”

That the League agreed with, before they left, Vivian faced her former captors and asked, “Where is Cobb?”

“Why? Do you miss him as well?” Elliot mocked her.

“No, I want our men to see his face so they know to save him last along with you two, so I can give the sentence myself… this war will not last a day, and by the end of it, you three will die. And I will have the satisfaction of seeing it happen before my eyes.”

With that Vivian turned her horse and had it return to camp with Bruce following her and then the others of their camp.

~ * ~

“Peace talks are shite, I guess,” said Gordon when they returned to camp quicker than expected.

“It was,” Bruce answered as he got off his horse and handed the steed to a squire that waited. He was to get Vivian down the horse when one of her own helped her and led her back to the tent where the Queens gathered to talk. “Luthor only gathered us there to see what they were up against. They hinted us of a beast.”

“A beast?” Gordon’s brows furrowed.

“I take it you never knew about it.”

“If I did, I would have told you.”

“We figured as much. Come, we must talk.”

In the tent, Bruce stood next to Vivian where Luthor’s Forces were placed on the map so he could add another piece. “A Beast, we do not know what it is and how many. We can assume it has the strength as a hundred men.”

“Or more, he said it can beat our Kryptonians,” said Pierce. “Do we change strategy?”

“No, we caught them off guard. They will be the ones who will have to rearrange. We stick to our flanks and we strike at dawn.”

“And the Beast?” Vivian asked.

“Kal-El and I will face it.”

“Bruce –”

“If it is as strong as a Kryptonian then we will face it ourselves. Dick, I will leave you to leave my flank when the time comes the Beast makes itself known.”

“As you wish, Bat-Prince,” Dick bowed. 

“I will lead the Vanguard still,” said Diana pointing to the Amazon pieces at the front. “Queen Pierce will be our support.”

“Remember, we need to draw them to the swamp,” John told them. “That way our magic users get to do their job and make sure none of you are there when shots are fired.”

They all agreed. They do not want to be in those waters when Anissa strikes her lightning.

“And you,” John pointed his pipe at Vivian. “Remember, wait for all of their talons to come out before you give the signal to the other mages.”

Vivian nodded.

“If that is all,” Diana sighed. “Get some rest, we get up before dawn to meet our enemy.”

~ * ~

Bruce slipped into her tent as soon as Gordon and the other Lords of the Council had left. As quiet as he could, Bruce walked up to Vivian and surprised her with a hand on her mouth and an arm around her waist.

“Bruce,” she sighed in relief then face him so she could wrap her arms around him as well. “What brings you here?”

“A thought.”

“Of what?”

“Of taking you away from this battlefield and chuck you somewhere safe until all is finished,” he pressed his forehead on hers. 

“Bruce.”

“I know. And…”

“And?”

“We should have done what we said that night.”

“Which is?” She kissed his lips.

“Find a drunk priest and have him marry us.”

Vivian laughed. “We would have broken the trust of your family and our honor, our word.”

“We already have just without their knowledge… what is a little more to make it official?” He kissed her back. “I do not wish you to be on the battlefield tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t.”

“What scares you, Bruce?” Vivian led him to sit on her cot. The Prince pulled her to his arms and rest his forehead on her belly. 

“Since meeting you? Many things… Vivian, what if you are already…”

“I’m not,” she kissed the top of his head. “I would know if I was. It would take more than a day before we know. And many times of trying, believe me.”

“Then I should have tried harder.” That earned a punch on the shoulder. “Ow.”

“Please, you are a Kryptonian, nothing can hurt you.” 

Bruce pulled her to sit on his lap. “Many things can, believe me… but if something were to happen to you I would be beyond repair.” He nuzzled his nose on her cheek.

“And I you,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to face the Beast. Not when we do not know what it is and how to stop it.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

“But it is my duty.”

“Fuck duty.”

Bruce smiled. “Not this time, I am afraid.” He had her face him so he may see her face again and memorize every inch of it, then to kiss. He kissed her fiercely, just as last night, and laid her on the cot with him beside her. “I cannot stay.”

“I know. But stay until I fall asleep.”

Bruce nodded and laid beside her. Holding her in his arms.

~ * ~

“Did you say goodbye to Lady Vivian?” Kal-El asked his brother as they mounted their horses to lead their men to battle. Ahead of them, the Amazons are running to their formations to the Fork and be their vanguard. Followed by their army and of the Stormlands. To lead the army of mages would be General Vreeland who had experience in leading them before. He would be stationed at the middle so they can provide aid. Their numbers were few but enough to create the weapons they needed to win the battle.

“Why would I bid farewell to your betrothed?” Bruce asked, mounting his horse.

“Betrothed?” Kal-El was confused.

“You are the heir –” Bruce sighed.

“Not this again! Bruce, how many times must we tell you — your parents, Martha and Thomas Wayne, placed Jor-El and Lara as regents of this kingdom until you and the people of this kingdom are ready! You are the heir.”

“This is no time to talk about these things,” Bruce told him. “Set this aside brother, we must lead our men to battle. And we must be ready for what Luthor has prepared against us on the field.”

Kal-El agrees. He set aside their conversation for now and followed his brother, his King to battle. 

Before their flank left, Bruce turned to the direction of the shield mages who would proceed on foot with the archers to take their place on the mountains. He saw Vivian among them and he couldn't help but feel like his may be the last he would see her again.

At least he was able to tell her how he felt last night. If this were the last, then their time together at her tent was enough for him, and he has lived with no regrets.

~ * ~

They met Luthor’s men at the fork. The Amazons charge first with their horses and have taste of their enemy. Luthor and Eliot had their army of the dead charge first, no point in sending living men to their graves early. As the Amazons fought on the marsh, battling these creatures and the mud that pulls them down, they were able to lure a great amount of them to the waters before Diana called them back to the lands. At the return of the Queen and her warriors, she told Anissa, “We hoped to bring more of them here, but there are so many of them, we were overpowered.”

Queen Pierce, seeing the state, called for her lighting and struck the talons that came. Frying all of them.

“We still do not know what their beast is,” said Bruce.

“We let them come to us,” Kal-El agreed and prepared her warriors for battle as the talons, one by one, crossed the marsh and come at them. Their mage support would freeze the bodies of their many enemies, giving the warriors the chance to destroy the talons with one punch, kick, and swing of a sword. If only it wasn't summer then their magic would be faster when producing ice and snow. 

“SHIELDS!” Bruce commanded.

Their armies raised their shields and blocked the talons that came, giving the mages their time to cast their spells and freeze these creatures of the dead. Once frozen, soldiers would destroy the talons with their swords, then when the closers ones were removed, Bruce would command their spears and one or two would throw at the freezing talon that still moved, killing it instantly. 

“ADVANCE!” Diana told them. “BRIDGE!”

The earth-touched mages hardened the marshes they would step foot but only for their the portion of the vanguard armies who would cross, giving them an island where their shield circled around them, making live bait. 

As expected the talons came at them like hounds seeking meat and blood, and each one of them the mages froze and were killed by sword and spear. Their armies fought these attacking talons continuously, patiently waiting for the beast to come out. But there was still no sight.

“Luthor is always one for theatrics,” Bruce muttered. “He won't bring out that beast until he knows it will catch us off guard.”

“Then let us play his game,” said Diana. “And when it comes, the Els will join the battles.”

“Then, I guess we must advance our plans,” Queen Pierce nodded to her messenger, and the archer shot an arrow with a red powder to the sky, then shot it with another arrow to let the powder explode in the air.

All the way from the mountain cliff, just above where their armies stood, Vivian and John saw the signal and called for Jacob Pierce, the Queen's younger brother. With John instructing the young lad, Vivian prepared for her part by flying to the front of the battlefield.

“Make it a big one, Jacob,” John told the boy. “Make it rain like hell.”

At the young Prince's command, the skies turned dark and rain fell hard from the skies, drenching everyone in the battlefield, turning the marshes deadlier than it already was. With the rain coming, the Els flew great height and blew their Kryptonian ice-breaths across the marsh, freezing the first army, and at their command. With the rain falling, Vivian controlled the winds and froze every soaked talon and warrior , freezing their armies, especially Luthor's armies entirely, slowing them down in their charge. But their armies knew what to expect, which is why they had their soldiers wear leather and fur despite the summer heat. 

With the rain that fell, she stopped those droplets from falling, startling the armies of both sides and turn each one to shards of ice that rained down on the talons, destroying them completely. And just like in Gotham, none of their people were harmed. 

The tide was in their favor at this point, more and more talons started to either freeze up completely or slow down, giving their armies the chance to advance further, using their frozen marsh as their bridge and advance. Luthor's battleground was dwindling by every step their soldiers made. But then…

The ground shook violently at each step it took. It made their armies stop to look for its source. Bruce and Kal-El were to fly up and see where it came from but then they saw it hurling at them with its massive and monstrous body made with armor, its hands turned to the sharp talons these creatures wore on their gloves, its face distorted to be human and monster.

“Gods,” Vivian gasped, catching the El brothers’ attention. “That's Cobb,” she identified the human side of the creature.

“What happened to him?” Bruce asked.

“They mutated him with everything can find.”

The monster saw the three flying figures in the sky and grinned. It braced itself on land and jumped.

“VIVIAN!” Bruce pushed her away, sending her down to the ground, letting himself be taken by the monster to the mountains where they crashed.

“BRUCE!” Kal-El cried out and followed after his brother.

Following the monster, an army came, this time it was a mix of the dead and of the living army. Luthor's army came and threw their spears. The first blood spilled was of Amazon, and all hell broke loose.

~ * ~

Vivian landed harshly in the forest. The impact created a crater and her body felt like it would have shattered if it was not for her magic that protected her. 

“Finally, you're here,” A voice spoke. “Alone.” The man finally showed himself to her. He wore a black and orange mask to hide his face and was armed to the teeth. “I was waiting for those Kryptonian bastards to leave you alone.”

“I know you,” Vivian said. “You are the mercenary that Luthor brought from the Free City of Iona. Slade.”

“I am honored that a noble, such as yourself, remembers me. Come now, woman, your betrothed awaits you.”

“Like hell!” Vivian threw a spell at him, but the mercenary used his swords to block the spell. Impossible she thought as she saw the swords nullify her attack as if it were nothing.

“Like my toys?” said Slade. “I stole it from an Ionian warrior to capture people like you!” He threw his knives at her. Vivian cast a shield to stop them, a couple bounced away but there was one knife that broke her shield and pierced her arm. Vivian cried in pain and pulled out the knife. It had the runes that his swords had. It was enhanced to nullify magic. Any magic.

How was she going to get out of this?

~ * ~

The brute strength of the creature was out of this world, and something that the El brothers cannot match. Whatever Luthor did to Cobb, he had one thing in mind. He wanted a monster that would destroy the Els and he did it. 

No matter what punch they made at him, the creature continued to stand tall and beat them senseless. Bruce has already lost parts of his armor after this monster threw him around like a ragdoll and punched him down to the ground like he was nothing. Kal-El was the same. It was the first time the Prince wore armor and it was by his insistence after Elliot declared that they had a beast that could beat them. 

“Kal-El, brother,” Bruce got up with the aid of his sword. “Return to the palace. Inform the Queen about this abomination.”

Kal-El groaned as he got up, his armor shedding with it no longer attacked with its fastening. “There you go again, trying to be a hero,” Kal-El went to his brother’s side. “I am not going to let you die here, brother. Not when you finally have something to live for.”

Bruce looked at his brother and saw the smile on his face. He knew, he realized. His brother knew what he and Vivian did.

Kal-El knelt before Bruce and pressed his forehead against his. “You have served our kingdom well, let us help you find happiness.”

Someone came to the battleground. Two women, one bearing the sword and shield of the Amazons and wearing the robes of House El. Princess Zala. 

“I was sent by the Queen the moment we heard your struggles,” Zala informed her brothers as she held her sword and shield high. “Reinforcements are coming.” 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bruce told her.

“Mother’s orders. Seeing what you’re fighting now, you need my help, brothers,” Zala smirked and charged at the beast. 

~ * ~

Vivian tried to hide behind the trees to get to cover but each one she went, Slade destroyed with his arsenal. The last one she ducked just at the right time when the mercenary’s long-chained morningstar came at her and destroyed the three’s trunk. The power that each of his weapons have was something she rarely saw. Imbuing magic to weapons was an old type of magic that was done in Gotham until a decree was made to stop the art as these weapons were being sold to poachers and mercenaries like Slade, and were being used against magical people. 

It was her grandmother who put a stop to the creation of magical weapons. It seems it’s still done abroad. 

“You stand no chance, Pryor!” Slade called out. “Your magic tricks don’t work on my weapons and you know it. You’re even bleeding out! Do the smart thing and hand yourself over so I can bring you back to your groom.”

If magic can’t harm him, maybe the elements can. 

Taking the risk, Vivian got out of her hiding place and faced Slade. 

“Finally giving up?” Slade chuckled.

“ego praecipio sanguinis,” Vivian cast the spell. 

“You never learn, do you, little gi—what?” Slade touched his cheek where he felt a sharp pain. Blood there was blood on his cheek and it was his own. Then he saw what was happening. The blood that has spilled around them–Vivian’s blood–started to come off the ground and form a liquid she can control to harden as blades. It was magic but it won’t be a direct kind of magic, she was using her surroundings to control with her magic. Oddly enough, she chose her blood to do it.

Her blood and ichor surrounded her to create a ring to be a weapon and her defense. It wasn’t enough but she had more resources around her to use if she wishes to increase her arsenal too. Then there was the gold armor that imprinted on her body. 

“You won’t last long,” Slade threw another enchanted knife at her and Vivian dodged it, then another and another, throwing each one before she could even blink. Vivian rolled the ground to avoid the attacks then threw her arm at Slade to send her blood at him like a thin tentacle that would piercing him. 

Slade easily dodged her attack and threw his sword then attacked her at close range. Vivian blocked him blade with her solidified blood and —

She stomped on the ground and grass beneath his feet froze and the ice crept up to his ankles. Slade, punched through her blood armor and hit her face. Breaking her nose, giving her more blood to use. But the more that came out of her the weaker she got. She wanted to pull back as the pain grew across her face, but she took the chance, with Slade’s arrogant smirk on his face, to throw her hand in a slicing motion.

“AAHHH!” Slade drew back, aiding his eye. 

Vivian had sliced his eye with a knife he never saw coming. 

“YOU BITCH!” Slade ripped off his mask to show his bloody face and the place where his eye would but is cut open. It wasn’t a clean cut either. He came running at her but before he could come close, a vine captured him by his ankle and dangled the mercenary off the ground.

More vines came and it wrapped around Slade, not giving him a chance to move and get out at all. 

From the trees, the Queen of the Forest appeared. Poison Ivy went down and stood beside Vivian’s side, bringing with her the jester, Harley Quinn, who held a large mallet in her hands.

“Lady Vivian, you’re bleeding and your nose is crooked,” Harley pointed out.

“I noticed,” Vivian breathed through her mouth, unable to do so with her injury.

“I can put it back if you want.”

“Please do, Harley,” Ivy said. “Before our next opponent comes.”

“Who?” Vivian asked, before Ivy could answer, Harley had already put her nose back, earning a cry of pain. Using her magic, Vivian healed her bone and her other injuries. For some reason, the one made by the knife carved with runes of magic she cannot heal. 

Seeing the problem, Harley used the sash she had on her and wrapped it around the noble woman’s injury. 

“What brought you both here?” Vivian asked.

“The Queen’s orders,” Harley said.

“I came for the forest,” said Ivy. “Here they come.”

It was Elliot who came through the trees, on a horse, with him was Luthor and some other lords. 

“Going somewhere?” Harley greeted them. 

“Yours, I believe?” Ivy hovered Slade over at Luthor’s head.

Stepping out, Vivian faced the lords before her. “You’re trying to flee, aren’t you? You lost your battle. Your creatures lost in the mountains with the Els, your talons destroyed by cold weather, and your armies — the one you paid to be here — are either put down, surrendered, or decided that this wasn’t worth the gold you promised them.”

“Your blood was the last thing we needed to make them indestructible,” Luthor admitted.

“If you wanted it so much, here,” Vivian had the ring of blood come at him and throw Luthor off his horse and pinned to the tree. She pointed her knife at Elliot.

Elliot came charging at her.

A mistake with the Queen of the Forest. Ivy had the horse trip with her vines, crushing Elliot under its body, breaking his leg. Vivian walked up to him. 

“All of you,” Vivian stabbed the knife through his hand that was to reach for his sword. “You all—surrender now and you will receive a fair trial, under the Queen’s Justice.”

“You have turned to our enemy, Vivian,” said one of the lords. “Have you forgotten what they did to us?!”

“No! But turning these lands to a wasteland for the dead is not a way to get justice on the people who destroyed our home, our city, our lives! Selling ourselves to a man like him,” She pointed at Luthor. “Will never get us the justice we deserve. The Queen and the League are now in talks to aid our people and all magic folks. But she has given me and the Council of New Gotham to extract her justice as we see fit. Surrender now and we will give you fair trials.” 

“You are a traitor to our people and to your family,” said Thorne. “Clair, Madeline and Adam would have sided with our cause.”

Vivian’s eyes glowed gold and she did something that none of them expected. “Aperta,” their surroundings turned dark with cracks of gold that sprung out whips that tied every nobleman on that horse and had them upside down.

“They’re not here aren’t they? So, we’ll never really know what they would have done,” Vivian told them. “Never say my family’s name again.”

Ivy spoke behind Vivian. “From what I see, we are in my domain.”

Vivian glanced at Ivy’s way and said, “The Queen’s Justice it is.”

~ * ~

His brother and sister were down, the creature has overwhelmed three children of Krypton. Taking a breath, Bruce charged once again with his sword but the beast grabbed the blade and threw it to the ground. He charged again, tackling the thing in hopes of pinning it to the ground but the beast overpowered his strength and threw him down, pinning the Bat-Prince to the ground and tried to bite his head off. Bruce kept him back by pushing the beast’s face away.

How long have they been battling? 

He can feel himself grow weak with the amount of beatings they have gotten. Turning away from its teeth, Bruce saw his siblings—Kal-El pierced with their sister’s sword through the stomach, and Zala knocked out after getting thrown around like a ragdoll. He can’t let this monster win. Not when his family’s lives were at stake.

Not when Vivian was still out there waiting for him or, worse, fighting her own battles alone. 

With all his might, Bruce punched the creature across the face to get it off him, but the monster only ripped his armor, one by one. His breastplate, his shoulder pads. When he found the chance to escape, the beast grabbed Bruce and started pounding its fist on his back.

Bruce let out a roar of pain and threw punches at the beast’s body until it heaved back and he took the chance to throw another punch at its face. It did little but he could see that like him, the creature was weakening too. Mutated and enhanced, it was still mortal. 

Bruce kept throwing punches at it until he missed. The beast moved swiftly and punched the Bat-Prince across the face, then threw its fists on his back, he was sure it had injured him severely. 

On his knees, Bruce was held down by the beast about to rip his head off with its bare hands. His sword! He needs his sword! Bruce reached for the weapon that was thrown at the ground and —

He swung the blade, slicing the creature’s arm. 

The Beast cried in pain with the severance of a limb.

Getting up, the Bat–Prince walked towards the beast and raised his blade. “You’re no longer alive,” Bruce heaved, telling it mostly to himself. “I’ll make it swift—”

The talons of the beast pierced through Bruce’s belly, its eyes shot the same heat-vision they had, burning Bruce’s chest. Bruce let out a roar of pain.

“No!” Kal-El came just as he saw his brother about to slice the creature’s head off, only to be impaled by its talons. “No, Bruce…” Kal-El forced himself to get up and pulled the sword from his body with a painful roar, and with all his might he flew towards the beast.

~ * ~

Bruce woke up on a soft bed. He tried opening his eyes but he can only do so barely. He was in the palace, specifically his room. He knew it was his because of the banners he hung on the wall, his books on the shelf, the familiar scent of his room was there as well, then there’s Vivian’s red hair that sprawled across the bed as she laid her head to sleep from the chair she sat on, fast asleep.

With the strength he had, Bruce reached out to touch that hair. Holding her red hair brought him back to the night on the beach. That red hair became a curtain that kept them from the world. He could imagine her face, the smile on her face when he told her how he felt.

His fingers brushed over the bridge of her nose, it made her brows furrow. He smiled. He then traced down to her cheek. 

“We should have looked for a drunk priest,” Bruce murmured.

Vivian woke at the sound of his voice. "You're awake. You're alive!" Vivian cried. Her hand trembled as she held his, their fingers clasped together against his bare chest that had a horrid burn.

"I am," Bruce reassured her.

Vivian pressed her forehead on his and just held him. "I was so scared when I saw you on a wagon."

"I am sorry that you were."

"I thought I lost you, Bruce."

"I swore to protect you, Vivian. Not even death will stop me from that," Bruce reached up and caressed her cheek to wipe the tears that fell. “I’m alive, my love,” he whispered. “I’m alive and I am here, my love.”

Vivian nodded. “I love you,” she whispered.

Bruce reached up and caressed her cheek then kissed her lips.

Lying beside her, Bruce brushed her hair away when he saw a trace of stitches. There was a long scar on her shoulder that was slowly healing. “You’re not healing fast enough,” he observed.

“Slade had enchanted weapons, it nullifies magic. I can’t heal it with magic so we had to stitch them,” Vivian told him.

“Where is he?” 

“Bruce.”

“Where is he?”

“Facing the Queen’s Justice.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Bruce. I took his eye, that is enough,” she caressed his cheek. “All is well. Ivy and Harley and I caught Luthor and the other fleeing lords, we found them and I… I did something I never thought I could, and we captured them… earlier, we sent a group to go to Gotham and see the labs they have created. Hal and Barry went ahead with their crew to stop any more of them from crossing the sea.”

“The fight is finished but the war is not over. We still have a lot to work on.”

Bruce agreed.

“What happened to Cobb?” Vivian asked.

“He was already dead, we just returned his body to where it should have been,” Bruce’s hold on her hand tightened. “He won’t ever touch you again. None of them would.”

They stayed there in silence. Bruce resting his eyes and listening to the sound of her breathing, her scent of smoke and cinnamon, and the feel of her warmth beside him. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, it felt like any time they got out that bed was too early. How long have they known each other? Weeks? Maybe a month has passed. But for the first time, Bruce believes in the superstition of what his people believed in. 

"Marry me," Bruce spoke. 

Vivian leaned into his shoulder. "Say that again." She smiled.

"Marry me, Vivian. Please.”

"Is that a question or an order, Prince Wayne?" Vivian teased.

"Please, marry me. Not now, it doesn’t have to be now, but would you later? I want to continue this fight with you at my side. I have served my kingdom since I was a child. I have lived for my duty and my duty alone... for once, I want to live for myself and for you. My Lady, my love... my Vivian."

Vivian got on her elbow so she could meet his eyes and kiss his lips lightly and said, "I will. I will marry you, my love, my Bat-Prince. My Bruce."

Bruce leaned up to kiss her again but the pain that shot through his body stopped him and he was forced to lay down. "I hate this."

"I know."

"Can't you do anything about it?"

"We're not even married yet and you already nag me like a husband." Vivian jests and places her hand on his chest and uses her magic to heal him. 

"I will never nag you."

Vivian hummed. "When will you tell the Els? Your family."

"Our kind have sensitive hearing, fast, and nosy. I'm sure they're already at the door waiting for me to tell them to come in."

From the other side, Kal-El called out, "Is that permission for us to enter?"

Bruce chuckled. He kissed Vivian once before calling them to enter. As he predicted, Kal-El, Zala, and Lara were at the door, all smiling as they came in. 

Vivian had to get up from Bruce's bed and greet them. Also, she was not his wife yet to be sharing his bed. Lara crossed the room and brought her to an embrace. “When I agreed to the blood alliance, I already saw how you both meant to each other, but Bruce… he’s too stubborn to think he deserves happiness. Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you, Queen Lara,” Vivian whispered.

“Does this mean you’re finally admitting you are the heir?” Kal-El asked.

Bruce’s lips curved to a smile. “There’s still so many things we have to do.”

“We should prepare then,” said Lara. “This is a new start for everyone.”

“He should at least get to stand on his own before we make him walk the aisle, Mother,” Zala teased her brother.

“Or piss by himself,” Kal-El added. “Wouldn’t want Vivian helping him piss on their wedding night.”

Vivian laughed and went to Bruce’s side and took his hand and kissed his cheek to hide the fact she whispered to his ear: “I’d help you even if it means holding your cock to piss.”

Bruce hid his laugh by turning to Vivian and kissed her.

“Prince Wayne, Lady Pryor,” Queen Lara started. “While we have accepted this arrangement, you are still not yet husband and wife. So, these intimate  acts are not something you should be doing.”

Vivian pulled away from him and stood at his side instead.

“Apologies, Queen Lara. We will show self-restraint from now on,” Vivian promised.

~ * ~

“I still think you shouldn’t be doing this,” Gordon said as he watched Vivian pack her things in the chest behind their carriage. Vivian only chuckled and finished fastening the latch before facing the man, she looked at him for a moment and saw the tiny detail that made her smile grow. The Council’s seal was crooked. She fixed it, along with the robes he wore.

“Councilor Gordon,” Vivian began. “This is good. For everyone.”

“You are soon to be Queen, and your husband the King, y-you shouldn't be out there! You have us to do the work for you.”

“I know but I will be safe. My husband is with me.”

The wedding was swift and was done as soon as the work with Gotham, capturing the others who aided Luthor and Elliot in the attack and manning the labs they built underground, and to oversee the sentences that were handed out to the leaders of the uprising. By that time, Bruce was already back on his feet, healed and leading the troops. 

Bruce and Vivian would have wanted their wedding done at a much later time but there was an urgency as she and Els soon learned that there was a product that came of her and Bruce’s night together on the beach. It was Bruce who found out about it after she showed signs of sickness and changes in her body, and later, with his enhanced eye-sight, he saw. 

They both came to Queen Lara and told them of the predicament. While happy with the news, Queen Lara was forced to throw away the plans of the announcement and the wedding and opt for a smaller one but big enough for everyone to know of the union before Vivian started to show signs of pregnancy.

Many months later, Bruce and Vivian welcomed a beautiful baby. A baby who was now being held by her uncle before her father came and asked for his own daughter from his brother.

“I am the only father who has to ask if I can hold my own child, I believe,” said Bruce as he waited for Kal-El to hand over the laughing babe.

“I will only have a few more minutes before you leave for the tour and I will not see this sunshine again. Not until your return,” Kal-El said and reluctantly handed the girl to him. 

“You can fly to cities in less than a minute and see her if you wish,” Bruce said and fixed his hold on his child and joined Vivian in the carriage. “I’ll join you and Helena in the carriage until our first stop. I want to be there with her while she is awake.”

“It will be our first tour, and it will be with Helena,” Vivian told him. “Our debut as the future of House El.”

“Of House Wayne,” Bruce said. “The Waynes ruled the lands before, and the Els held the power until I was ready.”

Taking her daughter’s hand, Vivian kissed the girls’ tiny hand and then she kissed her husband’s cheek. Helena reached for her mother and touched her red hair.

“This will also be Princess Helena’s debut… we will be safe, I promise you,” he said mostly to himself. 

Vivian caressed his cheek and said, “We will be safe. This is a new start.”

He agreed, turning to Gordon, Bruce held out his hand to the man, “The tour will only last for two months, and we will be protected too. I won’t let anything happen to Vivian and Helena. You have my word.”

“I know,” Gordon sighed. “But that does not keep this old man from worrying. You and Vivian are the future of this kingdom, and the Princess your heir. We will always worry.”

“We will be escorted by the finest soldiers,” Bruce told them, gesturing to the Robins who were preparing on their horses but made sure to say hello to the giggling Princess who was now in her mother’s arms. Jason was the last to leave the Princess’ side as he handed her a toy rattle he procured from the shops in the kingdom. 

“Farewell for now,” said Bruce.

Gordon bowed, along with the other members of the Council of Gotham, to bid him and Vivian farewell. Returning to his wife’s side, Bruce led her to where the Els stood to give their farewells, then entered the carriage where they sat with their daughter, and started the tour. The same tour his parents were to take before their caravan was attacked by the Green Man and killed with magic. The same tour around the continent, so they can see the cities they rule and understand their people more. To debut the young prince. 

“All set!” Tim, who was driving the carriage, called out to Dick.

“Forward!” Dick ordered their riders and their escorts.

Inside the carriage, Bruce and Vivian watched as their view changed from the palace and their family waving goodbye to them, then to the gates. The sound of their daughter calling for their attention had them turn to her and a smile came to their lips as she reached out to both of them. 

“Our dearest Helena,” Bruce let her hold his finger. “Alfred told me that my mother and Jor-El’s betrayal to Thomas and Queen Lara, that it was my birth that healed any resentment and anger between the four of them… I hope, with Helena, she can heal the kingdom.”

“I know, but let her be ours first,” Vivian kissed his lips. “Our little girl. Our Helena.”

“Our little girl first,” Bruce wrapped around hers to bring her and Helena close to him. He kissed her bare shoulder and then the base of her neck. “Vivian.”

“Yes?”

Bruce looked into her eyes and remembered the circumstances of their meeting. The hostility, the journey they made together, the short time they spent together they found friendship and comfort in each other’s company. They realized that it could be possible that it was lust that really brought Helena to them, Bruce and Vivian also knew that there was compassion too, and they promised to uphold their vows in their marriage and their promise to one another. 

Most marriages between nobles would often have the bride and groom only meet before the wedding. Thomas and Martha were the same, both only having met weeks before their wedding day and learned to love each other and care for one another. 

Their love grew as time went on. There were rocky times and many mistakes were made by both parties but they pushed through it all and their marriage and their love for each other survived it all.

“Bruce, what is it?” Vivian asked, laughing lightly. “We lost you for a moment. What goes on in your head?”

“You.”

She blushed and looked at their daughter to hide it.

Bruce had her look at him to kiss her lips. “We have so much work to do but I promise to never forget about you, about us, and our family. My love.”

Vivian smiled and pressed her forehead on his, “I promise to be the Queen you and this kingdom needs, the wife I promised to be, and the mother our girl deserves.”

“To a new beginning and to our family.”

“To our family.”

[gotham25052]

Dark Waters Part 8

As the social fabric of Gotham begins to fray and the Joker's intrusion into her life escalates, Anna struggles to maintain control. But is she threatened by the Joker or by something within herself?

Contents: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

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Author's note: Uh oh…

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I think everyone reading is well aware, but I do just want to mention the obvious, that this is a fictional, fantasy story, with the spotlight on two very flawed characters. If you find some kind of wormhole or magic passageway to the fictional world of Gotham and find the Joker there, do whatever you want! But in this world, no level of violence is ok in a relationship. So that's just my little reality check. I'm sure you don't need to hear it, but I'm just making sure.

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Now, let's go through the wardrobe and get back to the story. :)

(I am changing it up a little this week and sharing a very short chapter, compared to the usual overwhelmingly long one, lol).

TW: 18+, NSFW, blood, violence, sexual content

The Joker came to see Annie often now. Sometimes he came and took her immediately, entering the apartment and bringing her into his embrace so quickly she could feel the cool night air clinging to his purple jacket. At other times he would come in, eat whatever he found on the counter, and talk to her about something he'd seen that day, or lightly interrogate her about her experiences in Gotham.

Sooner or later, they always ended up in each other's arms. He seemed to study her, learning every little reaction from the surfaces of her body. His attention was an unusual luxury, a precious thing that she treasured. But as a person used to finding protection in hiding from the outside world, she was also a little unnerved by his level of understanding of her thoughts and desires.

He was more difficult to understand - so much of him was hidden from her. But anything she noticed that made him call out or catch his breath, she would remember it for him. There was always the possibility he was leading her in the wrong direction on purpose, with his gift for deceit, but generally she felt that he was very straightforward with physical intimacy, almost as if it made more sense to him than other everyday interactions. Maybe because it was more direct, more genuine, more natural.

As the time passed, Annie seemed to adjust to her new reality, balancing out some of the habits of her old self and the newfound freedom she felt when she was with him. He was able to coax her into speaking more often, and she took on the daily tasks that were required to provide life's necessities.

After their first nights together, he had quickly overhauled her limited wardrobe. He must have waited until she was sleeping and then removed every scrap of clothing from her closet. In their place in the morning she found a hodgepodge collection of short skirts, heels, and strappy things - halter tops and backless shirts. Her new underwear seemed to provide decoration more than concealment. Though he wouldn't tell her anything about it, she strongly suspected that his friend Genevieve was somehow behind the choice of clothes. Annie was really quite lost with it all but obediently wore whatever she found there. She had her jacket for going outside, so it didn't matter too much to her what she wore inside. And he seemed to delight in it, finding a hundred ways to take the scant clothing off of her when he visited.

On the day it happened, he walked into the apartment with a distracted look and drew out his knife, alarming her. He extended his arm into the air and then brought the knife down into the cheap countertop, puncturing the poorly made plastic laminate. The force of it caused his hand to slide down the blade, giving him a terrible cut over his palm. He didn't cry out but simply pulled up his arm and looked at the blood oozing from the wound, until she brought a towel and wrapped it around his hand.

She had a hard time staying calm and figuring out what to say, but she finally came out with a shaky "What happened?" as she held the towel firmly over the cut. He looked up at her and then dug into his pocket, bringing out a roughly torn piece of newspaper. She unfolded it as best she could with her free hand and read through the beginning of the article.

The Gotham Gazette Vol LXVIII, No. 23

Mayor Harvey Dent finally scored a victory against the infamous Joker today when the largest arms seizure in Gotham history resulted in the confiscation of six freight cars worth of weapons this morning. Everything from ordinary pistols to military-grade weapons and grenades were found.

Since the food crisis and supply chain disruptions, a nationwide shortage of weapons has been an issue for police and criminals alike, so this large-scale seizure puts the odds back in favor of the Gotham authorities…

She sat by him that evening, making sure his hand stopped bleeding and quietly comforting him, knowing it must have been a devastating blow by his unusual silence. Secretly she hoped that fewer weapons might mean less violence - his obsession with fighting the authorities and tearing down the rules of society was not a passion she shared. But in a world where the backbone of the community - the police, the government, and the law - had largely abandoned her, she didn't feel any sense of guilt or a moral dilemma in comforting him after his loss. This was something about her conservative rural upbringing that did stay with her. The focus on one's own family and the disregard for the outside world, for good or for ill, made her well-suited to be the Joker's companion. Although the hesitation of the women of her isolated community to question the men's actions had often infuriated Annie when she was growing up, that habit had also ingrained itself into her personality and probably contributed to her acceptance of his position as the head of Gotham's criminal empire.

The next day they were on the bed and he was absentmindedly stroking her cheek with his fingertips. She moved to get up and he pulled her back immediately, returning her to exactly the same position, and he continued his repetitive caress. She was probably wise to decide to simply stay where he placed her. He did this more and more often after the weapons raid, seemingly distracted, his eyes focused far away. Sometimes while he was sleeping she washed his shirt and pants by hand, hanging them up to dry in the shower, to maintain some level of cleanliness, as he seemed to be letting himself go much more than usual. But his energy and passion for Annie, if anything, grew stronger, and it felt like he must be escaping from the frustrations of his days in her embrace.

Now he entered the apartment like any other day, but she soon noticed that something was off. He was preoccupied, agitated. He hung up the purple jacket and took off the gloves deliberately, with much more care than usual. She wondered if there was some new development in the shortage of firearms. She had heard his men talking in low voices about their growing weakness in the face of the police and the rival gangs of Gotham.

But when he walked toward her with his jaw clenched and his mouth curved into a subtle smile, she knew that it must be about her.

"It turns out that my kitten has been very bad," he began ominously. "I found out she wasn't the only one who wanted to leave her Church. There were others, but they didn't get out. Kitten did. She left them all behind without a backward glance." He said it in a sing-song voice that contrasted with his menacing expression. "How did she do that?" He wagged his finger at her, a half smile raising one side of his messily painted mouth.

"You know, it's so unusual for someone to be able to escape from the Church. And a woman leaving, no one ever heard of it before you, Annie."

As soon as he had mentioned her past, she stood unmoving, not appearing to even breath. She just stared at him with wide eyes. "I was suspicious early on, when you first told me about it, and I sent one of my men up there to your little town to investigate you. I almost forgot about it, but he got back to me today."

He came closer, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. "I can't find anything else out about you and your deal. It looks like all the officers and lawyers who worked with you ran away or seem to have been assassinated by your little organization up there," he said, tilting his head to look at her with a sidelong stare.

"I have a theory. I think maybe she spread her sweet little legs for that upstate DA." He put his knee between her legs suddenly, forcing them apart, almost making her fall. "Why don't you tell me about it?" He paused, regarding her terrified face.

"I don't mind, you know. You understand what it takes to survive. I respect that. He was a young man - but maybe not as pretty as Mayor Dent, hmm? Was he a nice lay?"

When he was met with only silence again, he moved over to hiss into her ear, "Tell me about it."

Her mind was racing. She wanted to forget all about that time, and to have him bring it up now brought back her pain, her guilt after taking the deal and leaving the others trapped there.

"Yes, he was a nice lay," she said, the words feeling foreign in her mouth.

He had been running a hand through his disheveled hair but paused immediately when he heard her words. There was a shift in the room. She felt like a hiding animal whose camouflage had suddenly disappeared.

"He was a nice lay? Oh kitten, you're lying," he said, rolling the words slowly in his mouth so they fell with a deadly weight.

He nodded his head, stepping back and surveying her with his merciless eyes. He drew his arm back and slapped her, hard. She hadn't had time to shield herself, and the blow landed squarely on the side of her face. The sound of it echoed in the sparse room. She collapsed to the floor, holding her mouth and tasting blood.

He took a step toward her and grabbed her hair, intertwining it messily in his fingers and using it to pull her to her feet. She cried out from the sudden pain. She still had her eyes closed, trying to keep her head from spinning after the sudden impact of the slap, when she heard the sound of the blade extending from the knife. Her eyes snapped open and her focus stayed on it as he dragged the flat of the cold metal blade lightly over her shoulder and settled the sharp point in the hollow where her neck met her chest.

"Your heart is beating so fast, kitten - I can see it here."

He had miscalculated if he thought a threat of force like the knife was something that would make her share her secret. But maybe he wasn't threatening her as much as he just wanted to see the sharp blade on the soft skin of her neck. Maybe he didn't really know what he wanted at that moment.

In the flurry of thoughts running through her mind, she suddenly realized that holding something away from him like this gave her a rush of pleasure. He knew everything about her: how she thought, the dynamics of her body, what every touch would do to her. But here was something he didn't know.

He used his grip on her hair to tilt her head up to face him. A slow smile formed on her lips. She had some scrap of her life that was hidden - it seemed to give her a small amount of control, and that little bit was intoxicating to her.

"I thought I just found a little fallen angel there on the ballroom floor, but you're much more than that, aren't you?" he said, regarding her strange smile and the remoteness of her icy stare. "I should have known, with the way you looked at me. Those sparkling eyes. You couldn't stop looking at me, could you?"

He retracted the knife and turned his hand to let it drop to the floor. Holding her head steady with his grip on her hair, he pressed his lips to hers. The movement of his tongue mingled with the blood in her mouth in a luxurious warmth as she returned his kiss. Her dizziness after the jolting slap only made it more mesmerizing - she felt she was floating. He drug his hand around her hips to the front of her thighs and pushed up the short skirt she was wearing.

The shock of what had happened made her feel unsteady, but her body adapted to him, listened to him.

"Ok, I'll let you keep your secrets, kitten," he murmured in her ear. She leaned on him for support and he held her securely.

"I'm feeling so generous today," he said, a lustful tremor beginning to show itself in his voice. He let go of her hair and she heard the gentle ting of his belt buckle hitting the long watch chain. He brought his hands behind her and pulled her close.

Author's note: [spoilers!] Don't be mad! Forgive me, remember he is the Joker. You have to give him a little bit of a break, Dent took away all his toys.

It is probably a little bit messed up that if I could ask Heath Ledger's Joker to say any of the lines of the story so far, it would be "Oh kitten, you're lying." :)

This is fanfic, so of course I don't own any characters from The Dark Knight (Joker, Batman, etc.). The main female character is original.

[fandomworldofdreams]

Hospital For Souls Masterlist

Jonathan Crane x OC x Hannibal Lecter

Summary: Valeria finds herself in Arkham asylum after an attempted suicide. She soon learns that her psychiatrists are not who they appear to be.

Warnings: This story has mature themes, it is not a romance. It is a story of one-sided obsession, noncon, lust, and all around mind fucking. Please read at your own risk! Warnings are at beginnings of chapters if necessary.

Prologue

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII