#crazy reader

You lie awake on the overly fancy bed of your overly empty room. How many deaths does this make? 89? 90? 99? You lost track after being torn limb from limb by Harley's freaky ass hyenas for the 33rd time.

Silent tears fall from the corners of your eyes as you watch the ceiling fan spin around and around. Your eyes hold no light and you can't help but feel like a dead corpse living within the suffocating flesh of another person.

You can still remember the first time you woke up like this. You had once been a wide eyed naïve little thing, thinking you could stay away from the plot and live a lavish life! Just like in those silly online comics you read! Surely this wasn't so bad? I mean, yeah your entire family ignored you or tried to stab you but at least you had the comfort of money!

Wrong! After Y/N shows up you get cut off from the funds and taken out of the will so Y/N can have funding for herself! And if you try to complain? Throw a fit? Meekly ask to not be kicked out? Death!

Sometimes you can't help but feel so overwhelmingly sorry for your pitiful past self. Just how could they be so dumb? So stupid? To think anyone would love them, no, not in this place! Not when Y/N is around and basking in the spotlight like it's her natural birthright.

A memory crosses your mind, one where you had accidently ran Y/N over in one life which caused the entire Wayne family and friends to hunt you down, and started to laugh. How silly it was! The way her body went 'crunch' as you tried so desperately to stop the car.

You really didn't mean it. You tried so hard to explain that the brakes weren't working and you tried to swerve out of the way. Oh but did they listen? Ha ha no! They didn't! They left you for dead in Arkham Asylum where you suffered such a terrible ending before ending up right back at the start.

Your ribs start to hurt the longer you continue laughing, yet you can't seem to stop yourself. It's like with every laugh more and more of your fears and sanity simply 'pop' into nothingness. Isn't that silly? Imagine going through life over ninety nine times, each dying from one thing or another, and finally on your one hundredth life you seem to finally lose it mentaly?

How hilarious! It actually took you one hundred deaths to finally start going crazy!!

Someone knocks on your door and you silence yourself immediately. What's this? This is new...no one has ever knocked on your door during the first three hours of your reset.

You don't make an effort to get up, nor to even call out to see who it was. Why would anyone knock on your door? No...you must be hearing things. How silly of you. You smile to yourself as you continue to stare at the ceiling.

You try to think of what to do in this life but after living ninety nine life times what is there to do? You turn over and catch yourself in the mirror. You look insane. Messy hair, tears streaming from your dead and empty looking eyes, a wide toothy smile that you can't shake, and faint almost invisible scars that litter your skin.

Where did these scars come from? They traveled over from your past lives of course! Oh how you wish you could get rid of them, but alas. It stains your skin like ink that you can never wash away.

You sit up with an idea. Perhaps...just maybe...in this life you commit to the bit and finally go crazy? Yes. It wouldn't matter anyway since you'll simply die and start all over! Again, and again, none of it matters! None of it at all!

You break down into manic giggles. This time you do not cry, you just laugh wildly before losing your breath and starting to wheeze as you flop back down onto the bed. Your hands run over the patterned fabric like you were trying to sooth yourself, or commit the pattern to memory. You have exactly two weeks before Y/N shows up and another ten weeks before you have to scramble for both housing and money.

Something in the back of your mind pulls taut before snapping into two but all you can hear is the sound of your own laughter.

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Jason stood outside your room, hand ready to knock once more. He was a little worried considering it sounded like you were either having a manic attack or you were severely hyped up on laughing gas. Once your room goes silent he presses an ear to the door.

Should he step in? Is this normal for you? He wouldn't know considering he hasn't stepped foot near you after his revival. Why should he? You were...normal...a civilian stuck with vigilante for a family. He didn't want to get you caught up in whatever the hell was going on in his night life.

After a moment of pure silence the sound of giggles fill the room and the hair on his neck rises. For the smallest of moments your laugh reminded him of that night with the Joker. He shakes his head as he goes to open the door only for the sound of footsteps walking his way stopped him.

He turns to face Damian, who was standing at the edge of the hallway with his head titled and eyes narrowed in a sort of questioning manner. He doesn't speak, only raising a brow, and Jason lets out a sigh.

Jason lets his hand fall from the doorknob and makes his way towards Damian. He shouldn't interfere with your life. You deserve more than some half broken man with too many problems.

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You listen to the footsteps get further and further away from your door. Guess you really weren't hearing things. You press your lips together to a thin line before your clutching at your stomach and giggling to yourself. You start to hiccup as you kick your feet on the bed all while laughing to yourself.

Did they really just chicken out on trying to talk to you?! Pathetic! Oh the big bad Bats and Birds can't even hold a conversation with their own family?? Oh that's too good!

You wipe away the tears from your eyes and check the time. If you remember correctly you have school today, just like always, and this is the day someone stabs you in the hand. How evil of them! Doing such a thing to a poor, defenseless, teen like you!!

But it's whatever. You have better things to think about. You sit up, smoothing out the blankets, and head to your tiny little closet. Your room wasn't that big, only the size of a small bedroom of a run down apartment. Sure that's more space than what other people have but in a big manson like this one? This might as well be a storage room.

You pull out your school uniform for Gotham Prep and give it a once over before stuffing it back into the closet. Instead you grab the school official cardigan that's normally used for the winter time and decide to wear that one instead. Ever since that one death, where you were turned to ice by Mr. Freeze, you've always been a bit chilly so it wasn't that big of a deal to you.

After shrugging on the cardigan you slip on some pants, making sure to grab two matching socks, before putting on your shiny black shoes that looked heavily worn and torn. You look at yourself in the mirror, looking over the uniform for any imperfections, before doing a small twirl. You look great! The only way to spice this slightly bland look is to add a few accessories.

You turn to your only desk and eye the small amount of jewelry you have. Your eyes land on a small pair of red X's with a black rim, then your eyes land on an aquamarine tear drop ring with a shiny gold band. This one was your favorite because it was also your mothers! You think back to that one life time Y/N tried to claim it as hers, so you swallowed it to keep her from getting her greedy hands on it.

Ohhh they were not happy with you after that. But who cares? The memory brings a smile to your face. Perhaps you'll eat it now just to keep her from seeing it entirely...Nah not right now. You want to wear it today. You grab it from the desk and slip it on, marveling at it for a few seconds before grabbing the flower shaped aquamarine earrings and putting them on. Now you look stunning.

Forget about Martha Wayne's pearls, these aquamarines are a [Last name] delicacy only!

Now you were finally ready to go to school, and to try and avoid getting the tendons in your hand severed forever. You skip down the hallway with a grin on your face and schoolbag in hand. Screw it, who cares what happens to day. You'll make the most of it and do it your way!

As you skipped down the stairs you remained oblivious to the confused look of both Alfred and Bruce. It was clear that they hadn't ever seen you so happy. Which was a shame considering you had such a lovely smile.

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So it seems it was a lot easier to say that than it was to actually do that. Here you were surrounded by a circle of teens who were all praying on your downfall. On the other side of the circle was one of your classmates with a knife, you think it's the guy from math but you aren't certain, and you new there was no way out of this. Nobody would save you, just like they hadn't all those times before.

You tilt your head to the side and shrug off your backpack. Someone from the crowd 'Ooo's and the rest fallow along. The other kid, someone whose name you've long since forgotten, takes offence to that and lunges at you with the knife aimed for your heart. You dodge him of course, only stepping to the side to avoid his attack.

Having faced much more frightening deaths you can't say that some dumb teen with a knife scares you. The knife does graze you, cutting a long line from one side of your left shoulder to the other, but you don't pay it any mind. The only thing you're thinking about is the fact that you're bleeding and it doesn't hurt.

Fascinating. You wonder how it would feel to...inflict such damage in return. An image of the teen lying on the ground in a heap with blood leaking from his head passes through your head and you smile. That seems fun, repaying him for all the times he's managed to cut you.

Just as the teen lunges again you step to the side, griping his arms in a tight grip and twist them to the side. A sickening crack fills the air and the crowd gasps in shock. The teen screams in agony but all you can do is stare down at him with apathetic eyes. Was everyone really into this? It's so...boring.

Perhaps you need to up the pain? You grip him by the hair and slam his face into the brick wall you were backed up against. A giggle breaks free as you see his face contort in pain. He looks so stupid like this! You slam him against the wall again, watching as his face starts to redden with each slam.

The moment his nose starts to bleed your giggles turn into a full on laughter. This was what everyone liked? Bloodshed? Red faces and pained screams? How silly! You could do so much worse.

You grab the knife from the ground as you turn to the crowd. Blood stains your hands like a mirror to the blood on the wall. Your cardigan is stained with blood. However you don't worry too much as you know how to get it out thanks to your many past lives.

The crowd backs up and people start to murmur to each other. "They finally lost it..." One person whispers to another.

"How creepy" Says another.

"Does their dad know they're this mentally gone? Oh right." Another voice snorts and soon the entire crowd is whispering or laughing at you.

Should you laugh too? Something must be funny about all this if they're laughing. You turn your eyes upon them and laugh along. Soon they slowly stop laughing and only stare at you in response. Your eyes are so empty looking and yet you have the audacity to laugh like that?

What a freak.

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you instinctively aim the knife towards their eyes, stopping just short as you realize who it is. There he stands. Your older brother who abandoned you time, and time, and time again.

How could you ever forget the face of Dick Grayson! His eyes were always so full of either pity or distain. It pissed you off to no end. He instantly removed his hands from your shoulders and raised them up as if to say 'I mean no harm'.

You put the knife down because you know better than to stab one of Bruce's children. Instead of greeting him you shrugged off your cardigan, trying not to look at the damaged white button up that was getting soaked in your own blood, and tied it around your waist. You took the knife and bent down to the unconscious attacker.

You only got to raise the knife in the air before Dick stopped you with a shout, "Stop!" You turn around with narrowed eyes and a face that screamed 'I'm judging you so badly right now'.

He seemed a bit embarrassed when he saw your face but he still continued. "He's already down, you don't have to stab him again."

"...what? I'm not going to stab him. I'm just cutting up his clothes." You responded with an arched brow. Did he really think so little of you to assume that you'd try and stab this guy?

"Huh? No, wait, you don't need to do that either??"

"Uhhh yes I do? Bitch, do I look like I have something to stop this bleeding?" You gesture to yourself as you continue to judge him. "Hell no, I'm taking this assholes fabric to use. He clearly doesn't need it."

You glance back at his face as you begin to cut the cloth into thin strips for you to use and stop. You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing again at how dumb he looks.

He looks like he just got told the moon landing was fake and that the moon was also fake. "Yes??? You are the child of The Bruce Wayne! We have money for you to use?!"

You almost feel bad for the guy. Almost. But with that one comment the silly moment had passed and the dull ache in your heart has returned. You scoff and throw a nearby rock at him, watching as it hits him in the arm.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?" He gives a fake little yelp and you know he's not really in pain. He's clearly suffered from worse, so you aren't too sure why he's acting now.

You don't say anything. What would you even say? All the words you want to say simply burn into ash and melt on your tongue when you even try. And it's not like they'd actually listen to you. They'll just pick up whatever they want to hear and discard all the rest.

When you don't say anything he gives you a once over. Your pants have a few patched holes in them, your shoes are scuffed to hell and back but they still looked somewhat cared for, and from where your clothes were ridding up he could see the outlines of a plenitude of scars. Were you really being neglected in the manor like this?

He thought....he thought that someone was looking out for you. At least Alfred had to be....right? Where the hell did you get all these scars???

The longer he looks at you the more you feel like he was judging you. If he doesn't stop soon then you swear to what ever god has abandoned you, you will bite his ass. Maybe even give him rabies.

Just as you were about to wrap your arm up with the newly acquired fabric someone wraps their arms around your waist and lifts you into the air. You squirm like a feral cat, kicking every which way in hopes that whoever it was would drop you, but to no luck.

Finally after a good minuet of struggling you go limp in their arms. You look up to see the face of your captor and scowl when you notice it's still Dick. A pity, you'd actually prefer to get kidnaped and sold like that one time than having to deal with him.

"The hell do you want now? I've got a bus to catch." You grumble just loud enough for him to hear. It wasn't a lie, but you weren't going back to the manor. You had plans to go house hunting before you were even kicked out.

"The bus? What? No, Alfred will pick us up." He sends you a confused look before doubling back with an even more confused and worried look. "You take the bus?!"

You 'tsk' and refuse to answer him. You turn your eyes down to the ground and watch as he carries you to an empty classroom. Once inside he sets you down on a table and tells you not to go anywhere before looking for a first aide kit.

With no where else to go, and nothing else to really do, you comply with his demand and sit. You roll your eyes the longer it takes him to locate the damn thing. You swing your feet before letting out a groan and pointing to a cabinet on the other side of the room.

"Are you stupid? It's in that one." He sputters out a vague sound before he gives up and just sighs in defeat. That's right, this fucker is clearly lacking braincells so that makes you the smarter one here.

He finally grabs the first aide kit and circles back to the table you were on. With as much gentleness he can he rolls up your sleeve, trying not to wince at the half crusted blood nearly fusing the shirt to your arm, and start dabbing at it with some cleaning alcohol.

When you don't hiss in pain, or cry out, or even flinch at the sting of alcohol, he can't help but try and piece together just what the hell you went through to be so numb to all of it. He's starting to worry about your day to day life. Maybe he should try and take you under his wing, just to keep you from getting hurt again.

As if reading his mind you let out a scoff and tug your arm away from him. He looks up with a raised brow and you only stare at him with your lips curled in disdain. What right does he have to look at you with such eyes of pity?

"Don't look at me like that." You hop off the table, taking your cardigan off the table and tie it around your waist. "Go home Grayson. Damian is waiting for you." You point to the clock on the wall, which read half past four pm and which also meant that Dick was supposed to be picking up Damian half an hour ago.

"Huh? Oh! Oh sh-" You slam the door behind you, cutting off the rest of his words, and make your way outside. The crumbled five dollars in your bag is barley enough to get you a bus ride to the middle of Gotham's poorest district.

As you continue walking the streets you let your eyes wonder, taking in every dull and mundane sight you can see. A kicked over trash can with green liquid spilling from it, a fight between a pretty woman and a raggedy man where the pretty woman is beating the guys ass so hard you almost feel bad for him, and other such sights greet you in return. Oh yeah, this place will do.

Who would ever think that an ex rich kid would willingly move to this place? That's right, nobody! The only thing you need next is roughly twenty thousand dollars to buy yourself both an apartment and furniture for it. Well you don't really need twenty thousand, you would just like to have twenty thousand so you can freely decorate your apartment any way you'd like.

While lost in thought you don't see the lanky figure stalking you from behind. It isn't until you make it all the way to an abandoned corner store did you finally pick up on the sound of echoing footsteps. A weird feeling curls in your chest at the idea of having a stalker. Was it fear? Excitement? Rage?

You pass the abandoned store and stop, listening to see if they were still fallowing you. When your ears pick up on the footsteps behind you, you allow yourself to be fallowed into an alleyway. Of course you aren't stupid so you made extra sure there would be no witnesses for what you were about to do next.

After all, the best way to get money in Gotham is to sell lots and lots of priceless items. And what's more priceless than human organs? Thank goodness for the empty glass jars lying at the end of the alleyway, it seems that the gods are favoring you in this life time after all!!

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The man at the counter looks down at the jars and then back to your smiling face with a raised brow of confusion. You raise your own brow and stare him down, your smile morphing into a frown.

"Are you going to buy it or what? It's fresh, so don't waste my time." You cross your arms and refuse to break eye contact with the man. After staring at you for a few seconds he lets out a sigh of defeat and starts looking at the contents of the jars.

In one jar there's nothing but teeth, another is full of intestines. He places them down on to a cart behind him and looks over the remaining ones. How the hell you managed to fit an entire brain into a jar without damaging it is beyond him, he's a little afraid to even ask how.

After going over all the jars he pulls out a duffle bag of cash and hands it over to you while avoiding your fingers like it's acid. Guess you managed to creep him out? Whatever, it doesn't matter to you!

"If you skimped on the money I'll know, so lets hope you paid me what I'm owed!" You take the bag and start to count it, making eye contact with him every so often so he doesn't get any funny ideas. You were hoping for at least thirty thousand, considering you brought in fresh items that were hard to find, but you'd settle for ten or twenty.

Why the large amount of money? Well it turns out the person stalking you was in pretty good health, nothing broken and perfectly good organs! Do you know how hard that is to find in Gotham? The most toxic wasteland of cities to exist? Of course so you wanted more money, finding this was literally a god send!!

When you finally finished counting you had roughly thirty three thousand in cash and one very creeped out employee. You put the cash back and flash him a warm smile as you thank him for his hard work. He shudders and turns away from you, telling you to "get out of here already."

You do a two finger salute as you skip out the store. Despite the weird middle half of the day it seems that you were really lucky! I mean, thirty three thousand cash? The things you could do with that amount of money! First things first you're buying the apartment, then some furniture, and with the rest? Hmm...

Your ears pick up on the sound of clinking of glass. You lick your lips as you stare at two people, a man in a brown trench coat and a woman with black hair and a magician outfit, cross arms and take a shot of whisky. A drink sounds so good right now. Forget about underage drinking, you were turning 18 soon and holy shit could you use something to pass the time.

Would underage drinking mess up your head even more? Yes, but with your impending doom right around the corner you were going to drink until you dropped! You shake your head and head back to the apartment. You have to buy an apartment first.

You turn around and glance at a flower shop, snapping a quick photo of it before returning back to what you were doing.

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Buying the room wasn't that hard considering this was Gotham, and it was only twelve hundred so it wasn't even that much. The rest of the money would be split into three categories; emergency funds, furniture funds, and down-the-drain funds. You squirrel away the other two fund but pocket the 'down-the-drain' funds and head to the one place you know would serve you despite your age.

It's nothing fancy, just a small hole in the wall pub right smack-dab in the middle between Crime Alley and The Bowery. It called itself "Clubs Castel" and it had a very regal card themed interior. The food was okay, but the drinks were really where it was at. Almost every day of the week they changed drinks, partially because they "wanted to keep things interesting" and the other half was probably because they never wrote any of their mixes down.

But forgetting about all of the unnecessary stuff- this was one of the only places that you knew for a fact would sell anything to anyone as long as they had the right kind of coin. As the age old saying goes "Money makes the world go round" and if you don't have the money, you don't have the life! But you? You just earned yourself all the money you needed. Sure it won't last you very long, and sure you were always one hospital trip away from being back on the streets, but what does it matter?

You'll just die again, and again, and again, for one dumb reason or another, so who cares! Life is meaningless and all things must return to soil! You pick up the red apple themed mixture and down it all in one gulp. You have to blink away the tears as it burns the back of your throat and defiles your taste buds. You can never get used to the taste of it, but you guess that just means you could always pick the sweeter drinks.

One shot goes down, then another. And another, and another, and another! You were downing these cups like they were water. At some point a crowd had gathered around you to cheer you on with their drunken joy.

You basked in their presence like the emotionally starved person you were and even started doing tricks for them. You held your hands behind your back and started drinking shots with just your teeth. If there was a fruit with a stem you'd tie the stem into a bow and present it to the crowd like it was gold.

You had even found a lighter and set another glass on fire before drinking that too. The burns hurt, but you knew they'd heal. And besides, if the crowd liked it- then who cared.

After a few more drinks you noticed that the usual buzz under your skin was missing. You set down the shot glass that you were just about to drink and stand up. The best way to test if you were actually hammered or not was to walk, but some dumb part of your mind said "Let's do a flip instead!" and you had foolishly decided to listen to it.

You stepped away from the bar and to the dance floor. Perhaps if you failed you could trip a few people on your way down and then laugh at them? Ehh....

You swung your arms out and then clapped your hands before doing a back flip. Surprisingly you didn't fall flat on your face! A few people whistled in delight and that was that. Guess you weren't hammered enough, so back to the bar you go!

Or so you thought. Turns out someone had paid the bartenders not to give you any more drinks because someone, you don't know who yet but trust that you will find them, is a bitchless loser who hates to see you happy. But you knew better than to pick a fight with a bartender in their own bar. So you downed your last shot and left. But on the way out you snagged a singular bottle from a table of guys who weren't paying attention to what was in front of them.

The cold air did absolutely nothing to your flushed skin but it did help bring your head back down from the clouds. Not all the way but just enough to notice the towering figure of your supposed older brother standing right outside the bar.

You lock eyes with one very pissed looking Jason Todd as you take a sip of the bland beer. You wince and shudder as the taste touches your tongue but you refrain from spitting it out. He crosses is arms but doesn't say anything.

You offer him a sip, hoping that he'd take the sip and leave you the hell alone. But your hopes are dashed when he downs the entire bottle like a dickwad and picks you up by the scruff of your clothes after tossing the bottle at the wall. Gosh that's like the second time this has happened to you today. Now you wish you had drank a little more.

"Do you have any idea what time it is right now?" Jason's voice sounds heavily pissed but if you were delusional enough you could trick yourself into hearing a faint twinge of concern.

You don't say anything and just let yourself be carried to his car. As much as you wanted to pick a fight you had no confidence in winning against him. Rage bubbles underneath your skin the longer the silence stretches.

So what if he's mad? It's not like he cares anyway. He'll forget all about you once Y/N shows up. And for once in your many lives you can't wait for that bitch to show up.

"Are you even listening to me?" He shakes you a bit as he stuffs you into the backseat but you still hold your tongue. There was no point in anything. Nothing mattered to you anymore. All of it was so...boring.

You turn your head to the window and squish your face against the glass like a sad pathetic dog. You hear him sigh at your silence as he buckles his own seatbelt.

"Where the hell did you even learn all those tricks?" He mumbles under his breath. The rest of the drive home was silent.

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You really don't know what he was expecting to happen when he walked you to your room and nobody even checked in on you. Alfred was probably cleaning the other side of the mansion, Damian was on patrol with literally every other person in this place, and your 'Father' was right there with them.

It took a lot more than biting your lip and looking away to keep yourself from laughing at his dumbfounded expression. Before he had another chance to say anything that could make your day worse you slam the door in his face. You don't move until your hear his footsteps fade away.

The smile falls from your face and the warmth under your skin fades into nothingness. You pull out your phone and open up the photos app. You scroll to the photo you took earlier that day when passing the flower shop, swiping past the photos you took with the crowd of drunken people, and zoom in on the background.

Once you spot the tuff of blond hair you smile ever so slightly and plug your charging cord into the computer and print out the photo. You pin it to the wall with a clear thumbtack and step away. The longer you stare at the face of the girl who will lead you to your death, the longer you start to feel your stomach churn with rage and envy.

You take the pale purple envelope opener that was lying on your desk and throw it at the photo. It lands in the space between her ear and face, which was slightly covered by a boutique of flowers. Your chest burns with such furry that for a small moment you fear you're having a heart attack.

You tear your eyes away from the photo for only a moment to try and catch the reigns to your emotions. You lean on the dull wall closest to you and heave, though nothing comes up. Guess those drinks really were kicking in.

Deep in your heart you know only two things to be true.

The first to be that no one in this world will ever care for you the way you tried so pathetical to care for them. And the second to be that deep in your heart, you hated them.

All of them.

Each and every one of them had gotten you killed. All of them had turned their back on you, leaving you to fend for yourself in the darkest pits of Gotham. Was there no love for poor little old you?

No.

There was no spot left in this worlds play for you to fill. Were you even real? If this time loop was forever, then what did it matter? You would just die and then return, only to die again and start all over.

The more your thoughts spiral the more you lose your grip on reality. Was this body even yours? Who were you? A simple extra who had gained awareness? Did you even have a life before this one?

You bring your hands up to touch your face, to feel all the smoothness it could and all the bumps that came with. This was your face. It had to be. Or else what was it all for?

Did you just die for nothing? Just because you came between this worlds protagonist and her happy ending? But then where the hell was your happy ending?! Do you just not deserve it??

No. No. You do. You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. That's why...that's why you have to kill her. She is in your way.

You shakily reach your hands out to grab the letter opener and pull it out from the wall. Shit. You already fucked up in this life, didn't you? That fight sure isn't going to gain you any type of pity or empathy...should you just...

You set the opener down and throw yourself onto your bed. Thinking sucked, this entire place sucked. You probably shouldn't have even bought a house and Gotham.

You roll over and look at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes as you mourn the person you were before all of this. It wasn't fair.

Uhhh yeah and that's all I've got for part one!! Tune in next time to see the rest of Readers spiral into insainity!!

The first time you saw her, she was tied up, not by you, obviously, though the thought slithered through your mind like a vine snake tasting the air. Kiri Sully, wrists bound behind her head to a pole (Anybody remember the Avatar 1 scene with Jake and Grace bound? Inspo from that), glared at your hunting party from beneath a mess of tangled braids. "Fuck you," she spat, which was funny, because you'd been thinking the exact opposite. Your mother’s warriors chuckled, but you just stared, transfixed by the way her thighs flexed against the restraints.

Her nostrils flared when you stepped closer, close enough to smell the salt on her skin. "Varang's whelp," she sneered, recognizing the clan paint on your chest. You grinned, not the polite one you used for diplomacy, but the jagged, unhinged smile that made even your blood curdle sometimes.

The sickle came up slow, too slow, letting her see the curve of the blade catch the light before the cold metal touched her throat. She flinched, just a fraction, but it was enough. Your laugh came out husky, half-strangled. "Look at you," you murmured, pressing the flat of the blade beneath her chin to tilt her face up. The pulse in her neck jumped against the steel.

Fuck, she was gorgeous. Not like the wildfire gems in your clan, but something so… exotic. She wasn’t covered in ash and ritual scars and piercings and hadn’t shaved her head— she was smooth, blue, untouched except for the dirt smudged across her collarbones. You wanted to lick it off.

The sickle trembled in your grip, not fear, never fear, just the thrill of seeing her pupils dilate when you leaned in, close enough to share breath. "They say you talk to Eywa," you mused, dragging the blade down to trace the dip of her clavicle. "Ask her if she'll forgive me for what I’m about to do."

Her laugh was a rasp, dry as dead leaves. "I’ll ask her to make you suffer," she shot back, but her breath hitched when your free hand wrapped around her braids, yanking her head back hard. The sound she made, half-gasp, half-growl, sent heat pooling low in your gut. You grinned wider, tasting victory, tasting her.

"Keep talking," you purred, pressing your thigh between hers. The contact was electric, she arched off the pole instinctively, then froze, like she hated herself for reacting. You could work with that. Could work with anything, really, as long as she kept looking at you with those fucking eyes, green-ish and gold like poisoned honey, sharp enough to flay skin.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. "Ngeyä Sa’nu…" (Your mother.) they said. Ah shit. You’d have to play with her later.

Over the next few days, you kept visiting her over and over, mostly when nobody else was around. You didn’t talk much, you weren’t the type to waste words on outsiders, but the way her breath hitched whenever you leaned in close told you everything you needed to know.

She hated you, sure, but her body didn’t. Not entirely. Not when your fingers brushed her ribs in the dark, not when you whispered filthy promises against her ear in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

One night, you brought her water. Not out of kindness, you weren’t that soft, but because you wanted to watch her swallow. The way her throat worked around each sip made your claws twitch. She glared at you over the rim of the gourd, lips glistening. "You think this makes you noble?" she muttered. You smirked, reaching out to wipe a stray droplet from her chin with your thumb, then licked it off slow.

The next time, you untied her hands, just for a moment, just long enough to press her palm against your chest where your heartbeat was erratic. "Feel that?" you murmured. "You did that." She tried to pull away, but you tightened your grip, forcing her fingers to curl against your skin. Her nails bit in, just a little, and you exhaled sharply through your nose.

"Mangkwan hearts are weird," She mused, and you answered with, "Omatikaya hearts are stupid." And you grinned when she snorted, low and unimpressed, but her fingers twitched against your ribs like she was mapping the erratic flutter beneath them.

You caught her wrist before she could pull away again, pressing her palm harder against your chest, hard enough that she must've felt the way your pulse jumped when she exhaled sharply through her nose.

You wanted to bite her. Wanted to sink your teeth into that smooth, unmarked shoulder and see if she'd scream or cry. Instead, you dragged her wrist up to your mouth, nipping at the delicate skin there just to watch her pupils blow wide.

She didn't pull away. Didn't move at all, really, except for the way her breath hitched when you scraped your fangs over her pulse point. "Scared?" you murmured against her skin, and she scoffed, but the sound was shaky, uneven. "Of you?" she shot back, but her voice was too thin, too breathless to carry any real venom.

Then she moved, fast, her free hand snapping up to fist in your hair and yank your head back. The pain was sharp, bright, and you laughed, low and ragged, just before she crushed her mouth against yours. It wasn't a kiss so much as a battle, teeth clashing, tongues hot and insistent, her breath coming in furious little pants against your lips.

You growled, grabbing her hips hard enough to bruise, hauling her flush against you as you ground your thigh between her legs. She arched into the contact, a broken sound escaping her throat, and you swallowed it greedily, tasting salt and defiance.

Your hands slid down, palming her ass roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her loincloth. She shuddered, her grip in your hair tightening almost painfully, but you didn’t care, couldn’t care, not when her hips rolled against yours in a rhythm that was half-instinct, half-spite. You bit her lower lip, not gently, and she hissed but didn’t pull away, just pressed closer, her nails scraping down your back like she wanted to carve her anger into your skin.

You pushed her top up with one impatient hand, your palm finding the swell of her breast, thumb brushing over a tight nipple. She gasped into your mouth, a sharp, startled sound that sent heat pulsing through you. "Perfect," you muttered against her lips, squeezing lightly just to feel her arch into your touch. Her skin was so smooth, so unmarred compared to yours, and the contrast made your claws itch with the need to mark her, to ruin her untouched beauty in the most delicious ways.

Your mouth trailed down her neck, teeth scraping lightly before sucking hard enough to bruise. She shuddered, her breath hitching as you left the first dark mark, then another, lower, near her collarbone. "Stop—" she started, but the protest died in her throat when your fingers hooked under the edge of her loincloth, yanking it up roughly. The fabric slid against her thighs, and you groaned at the heat you found there, your cock already straining against your own loincloth.

With a growl, you grabbed her hips, lifting her effortlessly and pinning her back against the pole. Her legs wrapped around your waist instinctively, and you wasted no time, shoving your own loincloth aside with one hand while guiding yourself to her entrance with the other. She tensed, her nails digging into your shoulders, but you didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, you thrust into her with a single, brutal stroke, burying yourself to the hilt in one go.

She cried out, her back arching off the pole, her thighs trembling around you. You groaned, your head falling forward to rest against hers, savouring the way she clenched around you, hot and tight and perfect. "Fuck," you breathed, your voice ragged. "You feel even better than I imagined—!"

Her answering snarl was half-hearted, her hips already shifting against yours, chasing the friction even as she glared at you through half-lidded eyes. You grinned, wild and feral, before pulling out almost completely and slamming back in, setting a punishing pace that had her gasping.

With one hand still gripping her hip hard enough to bruise, you reached for the discarded vine restraints, winding them around her wrists with practiced ease before securing them back to the pole above her head. She hissed as you tightened the knots, testing the give, just enough to struggle, not enough to escape. "Bastard," she panted, but the way her thighs trembled around you betrayed her.

You leaned in, catching her earlobe between your teeth, biting down just shy of drawing blood. "You like it," you murmured against her skin, thrusting deeper just to feel her choke on a moan. Her wrists twisted in the restraints, not to break free, but to arch into you, her nails scraping uselessly against the wood.

The sight of her like this, bound, flushed, utterly at your mercy, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You dragged your claws down her ribs, just enough to make her shiver, before sinking them into her thigh to hold her steady as you fucked her harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the quiet of the clan grounds.

Your fingers tangled in her braids, pulling her head back with a sharp tug, exposing the delicate line of her throat. You bit down, not gentle, never gentle, and she whimpered, her body arching against yours like a bowstring pulled taut.

Then, before she could catch her breath, you grabbed her queue, the neural tendril twitching wildly in your grip, and yanked it towards yours. Her gasp was sharp, startled, as the glowing strands intertwined, locking together with a surge of energy that made your vision blur. Tsaheylu.

The bond snapped into place like a lightning strike, raw and electric, and suddenly she wasn't just beneath you, she was inside you, her anger and fear and desperate, undeniable arousal flooding your senses like a storm.

The connection burned, hotter than the sun, hotter than the forge pits where your clan hammered their blades. You could feel her pulse racing in time with yours, could taste the salt on her lips like it was your own. And beneath the fury, beneath the stubborn defiance, there was something else— something dark and hungry and just as feral as you.

You groaned, biting her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and she screamed, her pleasure crashing through you both like a tidal wave. Her back arched impossibly further, her thighs tightening around you as she came, her climax rolling through the bond in searing, unfiltered waves. And then, with a snarl, you followed her over the edge, your release hitting like a punch to the gut, your vision whiting out as the bond amplified every sensation, every shudder, every ragged breath between you.

The cool breeze moves through your choco mint dress. Umbrella in hand to match. "Momma, do you think you could open the third door?" You wondered as you looked at her.

"I'm not certain. I haven't had to keep up with my strength since you took over household jobs. I'll give it a try though."

She placed a hand on the door and pushed it gently. The gate rumbles as the 3 door is pushed open.

"Well my darling husband I'm gonna head inside. Hope to see you follow behind me." She smirked at him, knowing he liked a good challenge.

Even though your father's nen ability was weak. He was riddled with muscles. Not ever neglecting his body over the years.

Simply put he wasn't stronger than momma or you but he was indeed strong in terms of normal humans. He managed to open the first gate while breaking a sweat.

Your brother wasn't happy about being dragged along on this family outing with his shitty parents and insane older sister. He'd think that knowing he was the only normal member in his family. Of course he wasn't weak, he just wasn't made of the same things you were.

Apparently he was born too late. Not blessed with the gift you've been given. It wasn't bothersome until he realized just how advanced you are. No hard work would equal the missions you did. Maybe he was fortunate to be the one left at home for paperwork.

"Pay pay, want me to help you? I don't know if you can open the door." And here goes his sister, what a bitch. "Leave me be. I've never asked to go in the first place..."

He took unsure steps to the large gates. "And for the last time stop calling me pay pay. My name is Parui!"

He was only 6 but he'd managed all the strength he had in his body. The wind blowing through his short hair. Slamming his small hands into the doors and pushing with all his might. Just slightly cracking the first gate open enough to slip in.

That left only me. "I wonder just how many doors I can open ?! I better be careful not to break it by accident." Mentally taking note of the gates. The first gate is 4 tons, each other one doubles. "This will be a pizza of cake. And I sooo do love cake."

Gracefully walking to the gate and using your pointer and thumb to flick the door open. Be gentle be gentle. Letting your finger go was all it took to break the camels back. All of the gates flew open. Placing your Parasol in place. You walked forward into the unknown.

"I wonder if I'll get to see a prince this time, everyone else was a bunch of donkeys."

The walk seemed serene. The darkness of the forest, the cool breeze though your skirt. And a huge dog near the gate.

"?! A DOGGIE!" Wasting no time to get off the path jogging to the enormous creature. "And what's your name~. I wish I had a dog as big as you. Can you do tricks?" The dead pan stare of the dog-like creature was obviously so cute.

If you knew they had a doggie this big you would have visited more. Gently cooing at the adorable creature. Putting your hand out of it to sniff.

"Who's a good doggie!! You are !" Petting the underside of the dog's belly. "He normally doesn't cuddle up with people. He must recognize you as his owner already." Kikyo said besides you. She didn't startle the atmosphere around the two of you.

You felt someone approaching not really knowing who but the dog straightened up immediately after hearing her voice.

Slowly getting up, dusting off your cute platform heels. "Good evening (y/n) Joneses, I can't express my upmost happiness to see you've made yourself at home. We shouldn't delay dinner is right around the hour."

You graced her with a curtsy. "Good morning ! I've never seen a dog that big before, is he the only one?" Kikyo was told you had your peculiarities but nothing a little house wife training couldn't fix. "No he is not Mike has a companion." And with that she started to walk in the direction of the mountain top.

"(y/n) dear, how about we have a little race to the top. I'm sure you like a good challenge yes?" Her eye monitor dot fell to your face. She seemed to be testing me .? If she wants a race I'm all in.

Closing your parasol and latching it with a click to the back of your hand. It was hand crafted to compact with a simple click. Turn it into a small bracelet. "I usually never lose these battles Ma'am." You said sweetly showing off your bright teeth to her.

She shook her head. "No please call my Kikyo or mom dear! After all we're close to being family." She seems absolutely delighted with the idea that you were going to abandon your ship and join there's. It felt disheartened that you are being pushed to marriage.

You only hoped that they had someone handsome enough to marry, it was superficial but who'd want to marry an old ugly fart. "On your mark." She started off the count down, it wouldn't take you long to beat her. It seemed like you were being watched.

"Get set." Glancing into the tree far ahead you saw what appears to be Butlers armed at the ready. "This is gonna be fun! I do love a party." The wind around you started to pick up speed. "GO!"

The lump some of the people you passed were trying to shoot at you. Not like it mattered, I probably shouldn't kill anyone but I've been itching for a good challenge for a while.

A horrid aura took over the whole mountain. Quickly snapping through the trees. As you'd run leaving decapitated heads in your weak. The pristine suits of the Butlers littered with blood, hit heavy onto the ground below.

"Who trained you losers!" Your laughing echoed in the forest with the splashing of blood. "Goodness I better be careful not to ruin my dress." Looking down seeing a girl holding something.

Unfortunately I don't have time to chat. She looks so cute. I'll invest my time later in her.

"Bullet after bullet, Head after head. I wonder just how many are dead.?" You sang happily as you walked content to the main door.

What a workout you thought. Was Kikyo even following you anymore? It seemed like her aura disappeared right after she said go. What a bunch of cheaters. You thought, sucking your teeth.

"Welcome Miss (y/n) Joneses. We have been expecting you." An older man with a freshly crisp pressed suit stood by the front door.

He bowed very low. It was particularly how low he went. It was like you were her Mistress. It was a red flag. They really are trying to get you to marry one of their sons.

"Get out of the way old man. And have some dignity and give me your name." Goth wasn't bothered by your attitude having received worse from his Mistress. "My apologies, I am Goth the head Butler. I have strict orders to guide you to the drawing room." He turned away from you and opened the door, stepping out of the way for you to enter.

The Manor was beautiful. Even you could admit that it shined like new. Not a speck of dust nor dirt hiding behind the curtains, vase, or carpet.

"You Zoldycks sure clean up well. Who was threatened to do the job?" The hallways held sculptures that looked so alive. Maybe they once were. Paintings from the Regency period littered the walls. Old artifacts and weapons were mounted on displays.

Taking sure steps behind the Head Butler. Sensing your family's aura up ahead. There were 2 other auras that you didn't recognize but one was Mrs. Zoldyck.

Picking up your walk to a fast chase. You pushed the Butler out of the way. Slamming the doors opened leaving them barely hanging on the door hinges.

You were known for your hot temper and your maniac attitude for fun and games. "YOU CHEATER!"

Leaving the whole room silent. All besides your family of course. Now used to your antics. Your brother barely looks up from his book to look at the mess you've made.

Your father is talking business to a huge man with white unruly hair. And your dear mother sitting with the same woman who had cheated you out of a good race. "(y/n) darling whatever seems to be the issue?" Simply put she knew Mrs. Zoldyck's plan to test you would bring more harm than good.

"Momma, she said we would race up to the mountain." Your aura covered the room in a sickening chill. Eyes dulled of life seated wide open on your face. "I never said I would play fair." And just like that a light bulb went off in your head. "You're right! I should have guessed." The scary aura dissipated from the Manor.

Taking a seat next to your mother. A lovely old china set before you. Without asking the Head Butler came and poured you an elegant cup of a slightly fruity and floral blend of tea.

Ahem came from the white haired man "Since everyone has settled let's get done to business. We Zoldycks and Joneses have been under strict business, but as the years grew by our fondness has been more like family. We gather here today to formally request for your oldest daughter. To marry our oldest son."

He didn't even ask you. He asked your family. This can't be good. Looking around to try and find the infamous older son. Locking your (e/c) eyes on his. They were so big and dull. The perfect image of perfection. His long obsidian hair trailed down his green tuxedo. His hands are well defined with veins.

These feelings weren't here yesterday. You couldn't take your eyes away. Never would you imagine your future husband would be a god trapped in human skin.

"...Gorgeous." Was the only thing you said to the question your parents asked you. "(y/n), snap out if it. Do you accept the terms." You've never been so lost in a conversation before. Your cheeks flushed the blood spreading to your eyes and down your chest.

"(y/n).... Do you accept the proposal? If yes you would be moved here in 2 month. In the 2 month period you will undergo "Zoldyck wife training" it will not be easy. It's torture at best." Your mother decided to feel you in.

Staring in the direction of the male. You smiled sweetly. Having decided your answer. "I'd humble accept the request."

Your family was in shock. They weren't expecting you to agree so quickly. It left them dumb founded.

What changed her mind that quickly? Parui thought hoping his sister would say no like usual.

He wouldn't admit it but he didn't like the idea of not having your antics at the family table. Or when you'd take him out to the park when you came back on missions.

When you would stay behind with him to tuck him in and read a bedtime story.Or when he said you were crazy or called you out of your name.

He never meant it.

He sat with himself as the conversation progressed. Not realizing you would be moved to the Zoldyck's manor so soon.

In his life of trying to play catch up with you. He never once thought the game would come to an end.

Of course he only could cry. It was silent at first. You proceeded to excuse yourself from the conversation. Slowly making your way to Parui who was sitting near the fireplace.

You stretched your arms out to him. "Pay pay, what happens to be the matter?" You scooped him up in your arms. And gently pat his back. Rocking you both side to side.

"I don't want you to get married." Snot running down his face. Eyes closed and squeezing you tightly. Not wanting to let go. "But pay pay, I can't be your babysitter forever." You huffed at his little tantrum.

Illumi takes notice of how motherly you are to your younger brother. His mom was right. It probably wouldn't take long for a child to be running around here.

His eyes are blown wide with fury and desperation. But he cannot scream, his voice muffled by the duct tape stretched tight across his mouth. Clad in only boxer shorts, a thin t-shirt, and socks, he looks vulnerable and exposed.

It's so fucking sexy.

He's still really mad; which sucked!

"I thought after three weeks you'd be begging me to take you upstairs, honey," you purr seductively, taking a step behind him, out of his line of sight. "Instead you hit me!?" You give Joel a good thwack against the side of his head with your open hand.

Not enough to really hurt him— that's coming soon— but enough to let him know to cut the shit. It's getting old, and now you want a fun, willing participant to play with you… and not someone who is going to act like they don't like… all this.

Joel grumbles something from behind the duct tape and it's honestly lost of deaf ears because you don't care for what he has to say right now, it's never nice or sweet. It's always mean— that's why he's got the duct tape on.

Soon.

Soon the big-dumb-idiot will be singing your name, happily, and without restraints.

He's just gotta wear something else first.

You slip the shock collar around his thick neck while you're still behind him.

He doesn't like it, at all. He thrashes and writhes, and makes a desperate, pleading groan from behind deep in his throat.

"Well, you wanna act like all them other dogs out there, you're gon' get treated like one," you press a kiss to the top of his skull, and pull back before he can rear his head forward and smash it against your nose.

He's going to try-- he always does.

Slowly, you wind your way around him, trailing a finger along his sweat-slick forehead and crawl into his lap. He struggles at first, until he sees the remote in your hand.

"Gonna zap all the bad outta you… make you perfect for me." You sigh, wrapping your arms around your neck. "Have an idea...for how you can hug me-- and not hit me."

To be continued...?

tagging people that showed interest--- @lilac-boo @gothcsz @sp00kymulderr @xdaddysprincessxx @pedrospookie @almostempty @creepycorbeaux

tell me if I should go on??