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nuvemturquesa · 2 years

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idaña: high valyrian meaning twin

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 || your twin never learned how to share, and he always hated when someone tried to take one of his toys.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 || 6.2k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 || twincest, noncon, kinda reader insert kinda oc because she has white hair and is aemond's twin, aemond is horrible and possessive and very nasty and mean, loss of virginity, pain kink, breeding kink, forced voyeurism/exhibitionism, jealousy, hair pulling, choking, kinda yandere vibes, a slap, brief somnophilia (just mentioned), degradation, angst

this fic is by, for, and about adults. minors do not interact.

this is a dark fic with very triggering content, please keep scrolling if it would be upsetting for you. if you do choose to consume it and you enjoy it, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Your fingers toyed with the hem of your dress’ draping sleeves, your thumb nail tracing the golden embroidery at the edges; your teeth bit down on your bottom lip slightly to try to keep your girlish smile at bay. It was the gaze of Ser Corwin that made you so bashful— he was a handsome and kind knight, and every time you watched the men in the courtyard, he noticed you and looked up at you with a gentle smile.

Yes, you’d begun to fancy him; there was just something so… exotic about him. Not in a foreign way, he was a native of your homeland, too— but he was different from everyone you normally spent your time with. The person you spent the most time with was certainly your twin brother, Aemond, and Corwin was nothing like him.

Where Aemond was pallid and sunken, Corwin was tanned and full-faced; Aemond, like nearly every Targaryen, had long silver hair, but Corwin had a mess of amber-brown curls that somehow looked perfect even when they were clearly misbehaving. Most of all, while Aemond tended to be aloof, calculating, and snide, Corwin was patient, sensitive, and passionate. He reminded you of the knights in your storybooks: dashing and fierce in battle, yet tender for the woman they loved.

When your twin turned his face towards you, you looked away quickly, hoping not to get caught looking at the knight in the courtyard below. “Sister,” he said to get your attention, and you looked at him as if you hadn’t even noticed he was looking at you. “Is something the matter? You look flushed.”

“I— no,” you shook your head. “Sorry, brother. My mind is elsewhere.”

He smirked slightly. “Anywhere interesting?”

In the tower, just two nights ago, where Ser Corwin kissed my cheek, and called me beautiful— and told me that he hoped to fight for my hand someday. Swallowing, you shook your head. It had never gone further than those chaste kisses, stolen moments in shadowy corners or secluded alcoves, but for a sheltered princess like yourself, it was an exceptional thrill.

“Ivestragon issa skoros ao issi otāpagon bē,” he pleaded in a whisper to you, leaning closer. Tell me what you are thinking about.

You looked at him more carefully: at the interrogating look in his eye, and the patch covering the other; at the small smirk on his lips. Sighing, you reached up and brushed your fingers over the black leather patch. “Ao gaomagon daor jorrāelagon naejot ruaragon aōha laehurlion,” you replied quietly. You do not need to cover your face.

Smiling softly, he let you reach behind his head and untie the strings, taking the patch off, letting the scars and sparkling gem show in the sunlight of the afternoon. “Iksos bona sȳrkta?” he asked you with a grin. Is that better?

“Olvie,” you agreed; Much. Leaning forward, holding his face softly in your hands, you placed a gentle kiss to the place just under his false eye along the line of the scar; he shut his eyes, though the scarred one still never shut all the way, his lashes resting on the height of his cheeks.

When you broke away, the way he was looking at you had changed just a bit. Giving him one last smile, you rested back in your seat, and he in his own beside you. You both carried on silently, watching the tourney of knights below.

The events of yesterday’s tournament were still fresh in your mind: of Ser Corwin’s victory, after he received your favour; of Aemond’s interrogation about your inner thoughts and your kiss on his eye. None of those events were particularly unique in of themselves. After all, Corwin was a strong and talented knight, and Aemond was always trying to get in your head (and usually succeeding). Of course, giving your brother a kiss was nothing strange, either, as close as you two were. But something about yesterday felt different. It felt worse and worse each day to hide your affections for the handsome knight, most of all because you weren’t exactly sure why you had to hide it— you just knew that it needed to be a secret. And yesterday, you feared more than ever that Aemond would find out soon and how he would respond.

Pulling the blankets up higher over your chest, you turned your head over on the pillow to look over at your twin. He usually woke up before you, so it was rare to see him fast asleep in the early morning like this.

Your mother had tried to get you and Aemond to stop sharing a bed over a decade ago, saying you were ‘no longer of the age where that’s appropriate’. But that had never made sense to you; why shouldn’t you sleep with your twin, your other half, your best friend? He kept you warm at night and let you whisper about your dreams to him when you woke up. And so, every evening, your room was left empty and you cuddled up with Aemond instead.

Reaching up, you tenderly pet your brother’s hair, brushing through the fine silver strands with your fingertips. He hummed as he awoke, turning to smile at you as he blinked his eyes a few times. “I hope I didn’t wake you up,” you whispered.

“Sȳz ñāqes,” he greeted with a rough, low voice; Good morning.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked gently, humming as he pulled you closer and rubbed his cheek on the top of your head. He cleared his throat to get the sleepy gravel out of his voice, holding your face in one hand with his thumb petting your cheek.

“Like a babe,” he replied.

“You woke up to cry and shit every two hours?” you joked, making him laugh and hug you a little tighter, your face pressing to his bare chest.

“I never expected you to be so funny, sister,” he admitted. “You never liked my jokes when we were little.”

“Because your idea of a joke was pulling my hair or spilling my dinner on me,” you rolled your eyes. You paused as you really considered what he’d said, leaning back to look up at his face. “What did you expect me to be?”

His gaze ran over your face carefully, his thumb slowing down a bit as it gently stroked the highest point of your cheekbone, beside your eye. “I always knew you’d be beautiful,” he answered in a soft voice, “and fierce. I thought you might get wiser, but you’ve stayed just as naïve as you were as a little girl.”

Offended, yet flustered, you blinked quickly and looked away from his face, down to his chest and collarbones. “You’re wiser, brother, but still so rarely kind,” you whispered in return.

He sighed as he kissed your temple lightly. “I try to only speak the truth, sister— especially to you,” he explained. “You should tell me the truth, too: you should tell me what’s been on your mind these past weeks.” For emphasis, he toyed with the hair right by the crown of your head. “Something’s been keeping you from me… I miss you.”

You smiled a little, exhaling a ghost of a laugh. “How can you miss me? I am right before you now.”

He said nothing, because he knew you were feigning ignorance— even if he just called you naïve a few seconds ago, he couldn’t believe that you really didn’t understand what he meant.

“Avy jorrāelan, lēkia,” you spoke to him quietly. I love you, brother.

He hummed a bit as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, embracing him and shutting your eyes. He seemed to relax, then, petting your head soothingly. “Nyke gīmigon,” he replied; I know.

It was that same day that you saw the knight again, though you hadn’t realised you would. The afternoon was falling into evening, the sky turning orange above the garden as you wandered it; you loved this time of day, because the sky reminded you of fire. You were looking up at it, probably seeming just as dreamy and careless as Aemond and the rest of your family often accused you of being, when a hand on your shoulder startled you. Turning, it was Corwin behind you, under the shadow of a tall tree.

“Ser Corwin,” you blurted out, “I didn’t expect to encounter you here.”

“I apologise, my princess,” he sighed, “but I couldn’t wait any longer— I had to feel your touch again.”

He suddenly pulled you into him, and part of you wanted to simply swoon and accept it, but just enough of your logical mind remained. “W-we might be seen here,” you noticed.

“Must we always keep our love secret?” he lamented, gripping your arms tighter and smiling down at you— that warm, comforting smile, it melted you.

“Love?” you repeated excitedly.

“Of course,” he breathed, reaching up to caress your cheek. “My princess, my darling… tell me that you could someday be my wife. Even if I am not a noble lord or a political ally— tell me you could forget your duty and we could be wed.”

You swallowed, hoping you could answer him honestly. As far as you knew, you had little duty in marriage as the youngest child of the King— it might displease your parents slightly if you asked to marry a knight, but it wasn’t any kind of treason or even that much of a disruption, especially considering a loyal and just knight like Ser Corwin. “Yes,” you decided, beaming widely, “I hope so— I dream so.”

Smiling back at you, he grabbed your face and kissed you: it was hard and sudden, but lovely. You realised you’d never been kissed this way, with so much passion and joy, and it made your heart sing as your hands reached up to tangle in his curly hair. At that same moment, his hands found your waist and held you close; you felt small in his touch, in a way you enjoyed more than you expected.

Just as you broke away, opening your eyes, you thought you saw something in the corner of your eye— up on one of the nearby balconies, a flurry of white. You turned your head in an instant, looking for it.

“Is everything all right?” Corwin asked.

“Yes— was someone there, on the balcony?” you wondered.

“I didn’t see anyone,” he replied, “but I only see you anyhow.”

The flattery was less effective as an anxious feeling flooded your chest. “W-what if someone’s seen us, Corwin…”

“Then they’ll know how mad I am for you,” he decided proudly, pulling your face back towards him, “and that you’re mad for me as well.”

You blinked up at him, staring into the dark brown abyss of his eyes, letting it wash away your fears.

“Would it be so horrible?” he pressed. “If they knew… are you ashamed of me?”

“No, my love, no,” you promised, petting his cheek quickly, “anything but.”

You couldn’t answer his first question, though; you didn’t know if it would be horrible, if anyone knew. With him holding you like this, you almost didn’t care.

He tried to pull you closer again, but you pulled away. “I should go,” you decided.

“Not so soon,” Corwin pleaded.

“I’m sure I can see you in the morning,” you promised, but he reached for you again.

“I can’t wait that long,” he pouted. “I’ll miss you too greatly— one more kiss, please?”

Though you hesitated, you leaned forward to peck his cheek. He turned his face to catch your lips, just for a moment; you pulled back again, face warming.

“I’ll be thinking of you,” he promised.

You nodded and stepped away, biting your nail as you walked back towards the castle; as much as you wanted to promise the same, for some reason, all you could think of was your brother.

Seeking him straight away, navigating the stone halls, you went to Aemond’s (and, functionally, your own) chambers. Already you feared he wouldn’t be there, and then your worries would grow even more about where he was— where he had been, more specifically.

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have been so eager, swinging open the door so dramatically: it made you look sort of foolish when he was sitting back in a chair, reading a book. He was well into it, he must’ve been here for hours to get that far in; you sighed with relief, and he looked up at you, seeming confused.

“My apologies,” you nodded, “I hope I didn’t disturb your reading, Aemond.”

He shook his head, looking back at the book as his cheek rested on his fist. “No trouble. Come in.”

You tried to examine him as you shut the door behind you and moved further into the room; you hoped to notice if he seemed irritated or emotional in some way, in case it was him you saw in the corner of your eye in the garden. He was hard to read, just sitting there, but if anything he seemed… normal. It relieved you, partially, though you were still cautious as you broke the silence. “How is your evening?”

He nodded as he shut his book. “Painfully uneventful. Yours?”

Continuing to approach him, you hoped he couldn’t see everything on your face. “About the same.”

As he stood, he took your hand and lifted it to his lips for a kiss on your fingers. “I missed you, sister. I wondered where you’d gone— you know I prefer to read with you laying beside me.”

You nodded, remembering how many nights you fell asleep with your head on his chest and his arm around you as he read— aloud to you, sometimes, or silently to himself. “I was in the garden,” you explained. I thought I saw you there, you wanted to say, but you worried it would give away too much.

“Alone?”

You tensed up a bit. “Yes.”

He sighed slightly, but smiled; you relaxed again.

“What were you reading?” you asked, looking at the book— but he suddenly touched your face, getting your attention back.

"Hm," he hummed sharply as he lifted your chin, contemplating you with his stare. "Pretty and sweet, but never very smart, were you, dear sister?"

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, the back of his hand collided with your cheek and spun your face to the side.

"A-Aemond!" you yelped, holding your stinging cheek, and he grabbed the front of your dress to roughly pull you into him.

"You should know better than to lie," he hissed at you, rage seeping through his teeth. "I never expected you to lie to me— or to be a whore either.”

“I-I’m not!” you denied.

“You let some pathetic knight kiss you! It made me sick,” he spat. “You've always been mine, sister— did they never tell you? You were betrothed to me since we were born."

You shook your head, eyes watering, and he held your chin with his other hand so you couldn’t move anymore— so you had to look at him. “It’s not— that’s not true…”

“It is,” he insisted, “I said I would always tell you the truth. I always have. But I guess I never told you, fully, what my purpose for you was— what we must do, to keep our family strong.”

He spun you around quickly, pulling your back to his chest, holding painfully tight onto your shoulders. “Aemond, please, I’m sorry—”

“No,” he interrupted, “you’re not. Not yet.”

He began to rip through your dress— fine silk splitting down the back like it was parchment. “What— Aemond, what are you—?!”

His hand snapped up to cover your mouth as he snarled, holding your head against his chest. The other hand kept tugging and ripping your dress until it fell to the floor in tatters; your tear ran over his fingertips. “Hmm,” you heard a deep sound vibrate in his chest as he looked down at you, rubbing his hand over your bare skin. Your stomach dropped as he touched you, his breath on the side of your face, his eyes boring into you. “Mandia,” he whispered to you, the Valyrian word for sister, “did that knight touch you like this?”

You cried harder, though the sound was silenced by his hand tight on your mouth, as you shook your head.

“Now, don’t lie,” Aemond warned you. “Did that filthy knight touch you this way?”

His hand explored everywhere it could reach: rubbing your thighs, squeezing your tits, even cupping your mound for a moment which made your insides clench. You shook your head again.

You could feel his smile, you could hear it somehow, just beside your ear. “Good,” he praised— somehow, it made you feel a little better. It made you less worried that he was angry with you. “Only I should be allowed to touch you. And I should never have waited so long…”

His breathing was heavy and careful as he touched you, and his fingers ghosted over your skin with that same lithe grace that he always carried. Even when you were looking away, and couldn’t see his face— even when he wasn’t speaking— it was impossible to forget that it was your twin’s hands on your body.

“I’ll admit, I did touch you while you slept sometimes,” he added, laughing slightly, “but it’s better like this. It’s better feeling you shake… and hearing you cry…”

You shut your eyes tightly, and felt his lips press to your temple.

“I wanted to wait, you know— preserve your purity until our wedding night. But I'm so tired of waiting…"

He seemed to lose track of his sentence as he focused more on feeling you, on watching his hands explore your shivering body. It caused his hand to drop from your mouth, allowing you to reply in a weak voice. "Please, brother, you can't…" you began, trailing off to whine as both his hands groped your chest, even teasing and pinching your tightened nipples.

"Can't?" he repeated. "What can't I do to you? Ao issi ñuhon." You are mine.

The slight hint of amusement in his voice was gone as he pushed you right up to the bed, making you cry loudly as you realised he was really going to go through with this— up until now, you thought he was just trying to scare you.

"You belong to me," he hissed, forcing you to bend over as he pushed your shoulders into the mattress.

"Aemond, please! Please, no," you sobbed weakly, though you didn't even try to resist him physically— you couldn't, even with only one hand he held you down easily and kept you pliant, as the other landed a harsh smack on your bottom.

"I never wanted it to be like this, sister," he sighed, petting the stinging skin he'd just assaulted. "I wanted to be kind and gentle to you. But I've no choice— you embarrassed us both, and forgot your place."

After another hit that made you yelp in pain, you heard the sound of him opening his trousers behind you, and you cried harder. Thinking that begging in Valyrian might sway him more, you found yourself repeating kostilus ("please") and lēkia ("brother") over and over, but you were ignored.

You only stopped when you felt something hot press up against the swollen lips of your cunt. "My, dripping already, sister?" Aemond noticed, sounding pleased, as he started to swipe the head of his cock through your folds, forcing your lips apart for the thickness of his tip.

You'd felt his cock a few times before, when he was aroused in the mornings and pressed it against you— or when you were younger, and in your curiosity played naughty games like children do. But you'd never felt it like this, pressed right up to your opening, bare skin on skin. You'd known already that it was thick, but with clothes in between it never felt intimidating like it did now: even just the very tip of it, sliding up and down over your slick cunt, made you terrified of how brutally it would deflower you. "Please— it's not going to fit," you warned.

He only laughed, making you feel even more stupid. "Silly girl… it never fits the first time," he explained, "that's why it's so important that you saved yourself for me, for this moment: I'll make you mine and only I will fit you after this. No other man can have you… you'll be only mine, forever."

He had to punch his hips forward sharply to be able to go inside; it made you wince, but you tried not to react too loudly as you knew this was only just the beginning.

You still couldn't have imagined how much of him there really was left.

He put the rest of his cock into you slowly— to remind you that even as angry as he was, he had never lost control. He carefully slid every centimetre into you, listening to every whimper as the stretch broke your maidenhead and opened your body for the first time. "Aemond," you cried softly, struggling to believe it was your own brother hurting you like this. "I'm sorry, Aemond, lēkia, I'm so sorry—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed, petting your back— but still pushing his hips steadily forward until all of him was sheathed in you. "Gods above, you have such a nice cunt… so warm…"

You felt actually nauseous, because he was so deep in you— like he would stir your stomach and make you sick when he moved. But no, when he moved again— slowly, deliberately— you didn't feel sick. You felt pain, and your legs began to shake, but that's it. "You're hurting me, brother, please—!"

"Shh," he interrupted firmly. "I think you'll like it, once you accept it. I know you were made to take my cock, darling, it fits in you so well."

It didn't feel like it fit well— it still hurt, it still made you ache deep inside. But he was certainly enjoying it: he kept moaning each time he filled you to the brim, examining closely the way your face tightened up and twisted in pain. He obviously liked hurting you, specifically he liked knowing he could hurt you and get away with it.

"So well— you're doing so well already," he whispered to you, a strain in his voice from his own pleasure. Each time he pulled back it seemed like he only went deeper in the next stroke; your toes curled against the floor, sometimes your legs even kicked up and your fists balled up the blankets under you. "Fuck, you know who you belong to now, don't you, sister?" he grunted, starting to move faster far sooner than you were ready for it. "You know that you're nothing but your brother's whore, yes?"

The next thrust into you was fast and sharp; it made your whole body jolt, and a cry jump from your lips. And he did it again, and again, and again.

You tried to get up on the bed, tried to crawl away to keep it from being so painfully deep inside you, but he grunted and pushed you down— he got up on the bed, too, and growled as he kept you pinned, fucking you harder as punishment for your disobedience. "Just stay still," he ordered, "just stay fucking still and take it!"

Holding you down more forcefully, fingers digging into your shoulder and side, he let go of any reservation he might have had and began to really fuck you— hard and rough and needy, more focused on his own frustration than anything. You sobbed your apologies over and over until they were just useless blabbering, pathetic cries as weak and broken as you felt. You weren't just his whore, you were his toy.

But something had changed in the way you cried; it wasn't just pain anymore, in fact, it was hardly that. You were crying most of all because of the way your body, betraying you, responded to him. It was beginning to almost feel pleasurable— there was still a sting in the stretch, and yet a fullness that made your back arch on its own. There was still an ache inside you, but it made you long for more, not less. Every forced push into you made his cock rub alongside something, a sensitive place on your walls that seemed to awake even more the longer it went on.

Now, when your toes curled, it wasn't in agony but ecstasy. And you hated yourself for it.

"You are a whore," he insisted again, though his voice was quiet and rough. "Do you see how much you enjoy it? Should I have not waited so long, darling? You longed for me, didn't you?"

There was really no point denying it now; he'd believe what he wanted anyway, and probably end up convincing you to believe it, too. You whimpered as his face appeared beside yours, kissing one of your tears away.

"Gevie," he praised; beautiful. "I know you wanted this so badly. That's why you teased me, isn't it? Let me catch you in the garden with that boy? Because you wanted me to stop waiting, and finally take you as my own."

He cooed at you, clicking his tongue; you groaned as he forced his cock as deep as he could possibly push it, holding your hips down with one hand and petting your head with the other.

"Shh, shh," he soothed, "I know— it'll all be right now, my darling. All is as it should be now. Do you know whose you are?"

Shakily, you nodded, and he sat up again so his face wasn't so oppressively close.

"Good," he decided. "Now let's make sure everyone else knows."

He whistled, loudly, the way he did when he wanted to summon the guards outside into the room. "N-no, I can't— they can't see me like—" you began to protest.

He ignored you as the guards entered, and his hips stilled as he spoke to them. Your head was hot and spinning as you heard him talking to them, knowing they were standing right there as you were laid on the bed, naked, being used by your own twin right in front of them.

"Bring that knight," Aemond requested of the guards. "The one my dolt of a sister kissed."

"No!" you screamed. "No, please, please—"

"Shh, he needs to see this," Aemond insisted, petting your silver hair as you sobbed into the blankets. You heard the door shut again, and prayed that somehow Corwin had known to run far away from this place and never come back. "Oh, don't be embarrassed," he soothed you coldly, playing with your hair as you kept hiding your face. "Those guards only saw you for a moment, sister. If you learn your lesson this time, I won't let them see you like that again."

He leaned in closer, his voice tickling your ear until you turned your head away.

"But if you don't keep your voice down, they'll probably hear you anyways," he reminded you with a little chuckle.

He started to move again, faster than before he'd stopped, and you shuddered; you should've enjoyed the moment of a break while you could.

His own sighs were getting louder and more frequent, and his thumb massaged up and down your spine while he fucked you: you couldn't tell if he was trying to soothe or savour you. "Mm, how lovely you are," he spoke, under his breath, as his hand reached down to get a handful of your bum. He pulled that handful to the side, so it wouldn't block his view of your cunt stretched out for his cock, and you felt terribly exposed. "I'm afraid you'll ruin the bed linens with your slick… you've already coated my cock quite nicely— and look, it's on your thighs too… what a mess."

He sighed and clicked his tongue like he was disappointed in you for it; your chest twisted. "I-I'm sorry," you said again.

"Hmm," was his only reply.

There was a knock at the doors just before they opened, and as footsteps approached the bed, you turned your face away so you wouldn't have to see it.

"Oh! That was quick," Aemond announced. "Come closer, knight, get a good look."

You tried to move your arms up to cover your face better, you tried to grab the blankets to hide your whole head under, but your brother wouldn't allow that.

"Don't hide your face, sister," he cooed, the gentleness of his voice in opposition with the way he roughly tugged on your hair to force you to arch your back and expose your face. You cried harder at the sight of your beloved Corwin, your sweet knight, standing in front of you; his face painted in betrayal and heartbreak at the sight before him. "Tell him who you are," Aemond ordered you.

"I…" you whispered shakily, getting louder when your twin tugged your hair again. "I am my brother's whore!"

"Mm," Aemond hummed approvingly. "Yes, you are, my love. Look at his face, darling— look how disgusted he is with you."

Blinking tears away, you did: you saw the way his eyes ran over your face, down to your weak and shaking body that Aemond was fucking into roughly. You could tell he'd never look at you again as he has before.

"He only wanted your purity," Aemond explain in a whisper, "he doesn't want you now that your brother has defiled and claimed you. He never loved you, sister… only I love you."

"You're lying," you sobbed, "you're lying to me, Aemond!"

"I'd never lie to you," he promised, speaking just beside your ear, turning your head so you had to look at the knight again, who watched the sick display with a grimace on his lips and tears on his cheeks. "I won't hurt you again, if you do not disrespect me any further. Do you know your place now, my sister?"

He got angry when you didn't respond, tugging your hair again until you whined. Against all logic, the dull pain made a chill of pleasure run down your back.

"It's a simple fucking question," he sneered. "Yes—" he forced your head to nod by pulling your hair up and down— "or no—" he forced you to shake your head by pulling your hair side to side. "Do you know your place now?"

"Yes," you whispered weakly. "Yes, my brother."

"Is it playing childish games, flirting with boys in the courtyard, taunting horny knights with your maidenhead?" he asked you, and you sniffled before you answered.

"N-no…"

"Good," he smiled. "Is it in our bed, pleasing me, serving me, and keeping the bloodline pure?"

You exhaled shakily, but finally nodded your head— you were crying too hard to speak properly. Worst of all, you were afraid if you spoke aloud, they'd both hear you moan; you hated this like nothing else, in your mind and in your heart, and yet your body was washed over and over with pleasure. You weren't sure you could take it, how good it felt, and you were fighting everything in you to keep the ecstasy at bay.

"Yes," he agreed as he whispered in your ear. "Yes, that's it. That's your place, princess."

"May I be dismissed, my lord?" you heard Corwin's voice ask your twin weakly. Aemond didn't even look away from you, didn't even slow down.

"Not until she comes," Aemond decided. "I'd like you to see how much she loves this."

He grabbed your wrists and pulled them behind your back, forcing you onto your knees and keeping your upper body suspended; it made the sounds of skin on skin even louder in the room, along with the moans you couldn't help but release.

Aemond himself moaned louder, too, his hands squeezing your wrists and his heavy balls hitting your cunt each time he thrusted forward. "I suppose I can't blame you for wanting to fuck her," he offered the knight, who didn't seem to find it all that comforting. "She's so pretty, isn't she? And a tight little cunt— fuck, it keeps squeezing me, it's how I know she's about to come for me. Aren't you, darling? About to come for your brother?"

You dropped your head in shame and defeat. You didn't even know what it felt like to come, you'd never done it before— no one ever told you it was possible, actually. So, you didn't realise what you were approaching as your moans grew louder and louder, as your legs started to shake and your cunt pulsed rhythmically. All you knew was that you needed it to keep going, you needed this feeling to get bigger and bigger until it consumed all of you.

He hissed praises in Valyrian at you— kessa ("yes") and sȳz ("good") and, of course, māzigon ("come", though it wasn't usually used to mean what he meant it as). The encouragement did little for you compared to the constant assault on your walls, faster and harder with each thrust until your defences broke and it hit you all at once: with a cry, the last of your energy causing your back to arch and your head to tilt back.

Sobs of his name broke out of your sore throat, tears running down your face and making a puddle in the sheets— well, a new puddle… you'd already made one with your arousal as he so keenly noticed.

"What ever will I do with you, sister?" Aemond scolded through his teeth. "Calling yourself a princess, acting like an innocent girl, when you're nothing but a whore. All you wanted was a good fuck, yes? You should've come to me first, only your brother can make you feel like this."

Grabbing your jaw, Aemond forced your limp head to turn up slightly, so you could look at the knight in front of you once more. He held your face and kissed it, before whispering his demand in your ear.

"Tell him that you don't love him," he instructed.

"I… I don't love you," you spoke weakly to Corwin, your voice breaking and your words slurred as you tried to think clearly in the afterglow of such a sensation.

"Tell him you only love me," he added.

"I… I only love my brother, Aemond," you repeated dutifully.

He planted a kiss on your cheek as a reward.

"Please," Corwin begged, barely keeping a straight face as tears welled in his eyes, "let me leave…"

"You may go," he decided, and Corwin bowed quickly before departing in a blur, the door slamming behind him. You and your brother were alone again, as you often were, but you'd never in all your life felt so lonely before. "I thought about having his cock cut off," Aemond admitted, "but I couldn't be that cruel. It's better this way— he'll go fuck some other dumb girl, probably by the end of the night. You never meant anything to him but a chance at something warm to put his prick in."

"S'not true," you sniffled.

"It is, my darling little sister— it is true," he insisted. "He never loved you, no one could ever love you the way that I do."

He let you collapse onto the bed, finally, and fell on top of you. His lips and teeth took turns with gentle kisses and harsh bites along your neck and shoulder, grunts from his throat turning into deep and hungry moans.

"My pretty sister," he mumbled roughly. "It's nearly time: I'm going to give you a sweet little babe, a pure Targaryen, doesn't that sound nice?"

"I… I don't…" you started and trailed off. You'd wanted children someday, but not so soon, not when you were unmarried— and not by your brother.

"Shh, shh," he silenced you again, "just tell me you love me. That's all you need to say, just tell me that you love me."

"Avy jorrāelan, lēkia," you whimpered, repeating it over and over until his movements stilled with a long, satisfied sigh— and then you were both laying there in a daze, his weight atop you, his lips just by your ear and heavy breaths falling from them.

"You'll be even more beautiful with our child inside," he decided with a happy, hazy sigh. "We can be wed before the month is through… that should make sure no more knights come sniffing around you, hm?"

You didn't respond, you only laid there, numb. He rolled off of you but pulled you with him, keeping his cock inside you and holding your back close to his chest. Gentle kisses trailed your shoulder as his fingers traced random shapes on your arm. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier, the exhaustion from your body seeming to infect your mind as well.

"You can sleep, my love," he whispered to you soothingly. "I'll hold you all night, just the way you like, all right?"

Sleepily, you nodded, letting a final tear roll down your face sideways as your eyes shut. "Yes, Aemond," you answered, already halfway drifted into darkness.

He gave one more kiss to your cheek and hugged you tightly. "Sȳz bantis, issa ābrazȳrys," he offered to you under his breath. Good night, my wife.

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In The Darkness Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

(I won't update chapters on Tumblr anymore. The fic continues on my AO3)

#the batman 2022 #bruce wayne x oc #dark fic #original character #robert pattinson #masterlist #dark bruce wayne #bruce wayne

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In the Darkness

CHAPTER FIVE

Mina's chest was rising slowly and quietly as she slept peacefully on the side of the bed that was against the wall. Bruce observed and basked in her strange beauty on the other side of the bed, his body cornering hers against the wall. His fingers traced her high cheekbones, cute pointy nose, and her peachy lips.

How could someone so perfect for him fell right into his lap like this?

Well. Bruce could not lie to himself for long, before admitting that they didn't have a conventional 'relationship'; Mina was only twenty-years-old while Bruce was already in his thirties, she was an orphan girl who grew up in a horrible environment while he was an orphan who grew more than comfortable because of his parent's fortune and of course while Mina was fighting to survive while being blind in a city that was not kind to those less fortunate, he willingly made himself the force that was fighting to clean Gotham out of its corruption. They were like polar opposites who under conventional circumstances would never had met. Bruce never had someone that was so precious to him.

Mina turned to her side, still deep in her sleep and now Bruce could feel her soft breath fanning onto his chest. A burning desire washed over him when his eyes caught a glimpse of her cleavage, exposed by the black tank-top she wore. It was not the same as when he saw her nude on her first days here, Mina was much more vulnerable now and he clearly liked her like this. When his thumb brushed over her lips, he applied a little bit of pressure, feeling her teeth first, and then he got her to open and slightly relax her jaw, his digit touched her warm tongue. Like instinct, her lips closed around his finger.

It was quite the sight and it was driving him mad.

It sent shivers down his spine. Almost like the kind of shivers he got when the bat beats a man out an inch of their life. It was a good, but dangerous and addictive feeling of total control.

Bruce applied more pressure to her tongue, pressing it until Mina woke up on a jump, her grey eyes shooting open and looking around exasperated. He quickly removed his thumb from her mouth and traced his big hand down her jaw and then grasped her neck, squeezing it lightly. Even through the cloud in her eyes, Bruce could see fear and panic in her iris. Mina's own small hands shot up, grabbing his wrist in a failed attempt to stop him from applying even more pressure into her windpipe.

He brought his face closer to hers and connected their foreheads. The veins in her neck were pumping as fast as her heartbeat. Bruce was not cutting the flow of air completely, he was just limiting it. Mina was completely at his mercy.

"Say my name." He whispered.

Confusion took over her expression.

"Now!" he reinforced, applying a tiny bit more pressure.

"Bru-bru-ce Wa-Wayne!" and just as fast as this random act of violence started it ended. Bruce kept his hand laying on her chest, between her breasts, the palm of his hand feeling her rapid heartbeat and at the same type stopping her from sitting up.

Mina's face was red and she took deep and fast breaths through her mouth. His big and heavy hand laying over her thorax made the process hard and painful but she was grateful for being able to pull oxygen into her lungs.

After the shock passed and her breathing calmed down a bit a dreading feeling washed over her. As time went by and they got close, Mina was getting better in catching up with his mood swings and her instincts were fast to kick in when she sensed his dangerous aura growing.

Was he trying to kill me?

His lips were on her ear now and she could feel his smirk. Bruce kissed behind her ear and then her earlobe.

"You are driving me insane..."

{...}

Mina gave him the silent treatment for days to come after that little incident.

Cowering in the corner of the bed every time he opened the door and kept her gaze on the floor. The delicate skin of her neck was marked with his fingerprints. But even if guilty pooled on his stomach every time he saw those dark red marks on her neck, a sense of pride and possession took over him at the same time and this feeling was usually bigger than guilty. Mina was bearing his marks on her neck. If he wanted to, he could have crushed her frail windpipe and suffocated her with one hand. She should be kissing his feet and thanking him for not ending her miserable short life.

To try to make amends and loosen the tension between them, Bruce decided for the first time in months, to let her out of her confinement. He remembers how she had mentioned how much she loved rainy days. The sound of the heavy rain blocked the sounds out of the exterior world and it helped her sleep better and when the droplets of water touched her skin she felt like her sorrows

A rainstorm forming above Gotham that night.

Bruce made sure that Alfred and all of the Wayne Manor staff were in their respective quarters when he brought her up. Mina was stiff in his arms, her hands clasped close to her chest and her eyes fixed on anything else but him; her dark hair was messily tied into a ponytail with strands of hair escaping from the elastic and brushing against her neck and face. He dressed her into one of his long-sleeved shirts and sweat pants that fitted her loosely, but she was making it work. Mina didn't have to walk anyway; Bruce carried her as if her body was filled with feathers instead of flesh and bone.

Mina wondered if her time has finally come and the man was carrying her to her death. Or maybe he was actually going to set her free? She knew that he was carrying her upstairs so the latter option was less likely. Maybe he was going to push her off a very tall building or something. Maybe finish the job he started the other day and strangle her, this time for real. Mina couldn't deny that was scared. Since Bruce Wayne kissed her, her mind disassociated from the fact that this man kidnapped her and has been keeping her locked inside somewhere for god knows how long and since Bruce Wayne was the only contact she had with something other than metal cold walls, and her own cruel thoughts Mina was pretending to have normal relationship with him with rainbows and sandcastles. That sandcasle that she had carefully build to keep at least a little bit of sanity came crashing down that day when she woke with his hand around her neck.

Mina fell back into reality; Bruce Wayne was a sick man, who took her freedom away and has been playing with her as if she was his personal doll and sometimes came to 'visit' her covered in blood.

Not a word was said during the climb up to the rooftop of the Wayne Manor. When they reached the final step of the metal staircase, Bruce gently place her on her feet, chuckling at how her toes retracted when in contact with the frigid floor.

Maybe he should get her a pair of shoes...

Mina heard some keys, then a loud clank. She flinched when his fingers wrapped around her wrist but he didn't seem to care as he guided her through the door.

When the smell of rain and fresh air filled her lungs, her eyes filled up with tears. Mina felt grass under her feet and the wind brushing her hair away from her face. Closing her eyes for a seconds Mina travelled back to the garden of the orphanage where she was raised and suddenly the memory of her 'older brother' Edward came into her mind even thought Mina thought that she had buried those memories a long time ago.

With all her senses suddenly overwhelmed by the outside world, Mina takes two steps back and her body crashed with Bruce's torso, who was behind her closing the old door. His arms snake around her waist and his chin rest on top of her head.

Would I be in this situation if I hadn't ran from the Orphanage? If I had listened to Eddie?

Like the sky was waiting for them to show up, Mina feels a heavy drop of water fall on her shoulder, startling her. Then another one, then another one.

Mina let her tears fall free from her eyes and she stretches her arm in front of her, feeling the heavy rain hitting the palm of her hand. Bruce felt her body slowly start to tremble because of her sobs and hiccups.

Soon both of them were drenched from head to toe.

Bruce shifted a bit behind her and woke her up from her trance.

Something was wrong, her instintic told her.

"I'm sorry about the other night Mina." Bruce was almost shouting because of the sounds of the rain.

there was a pause. Fear flooded her body but she could not tell why.

"And I'm sorry for what I'm about to do."

#dark bruce wayne #bruce wayne #dark fic #batman 2022 #original character #the batman 2022 #robert pattinson

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nuvemturquesa · 2 years

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In The Darkness Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

(I won't update chapters on Tumblr anymore. The fic continues on my AO3)

#masterlist #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne #dark bruce wayne #dark fic #batman 2022 #original character #robert pattinson #the batman 2022

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nuvemturquesa · 2 years

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✧ CHRIS EVANS Hits Radio (July 26, 2022)

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In case anyone is having a bad night:

Here is the fudgiest brownie in a mug recipe I’ve found

Here are some fun sites

Here is a master post of Adventure Time episodes and comics

Here is a master post of movies including Disney and Studio Ghibli

Here is a master post of other master posts to TV shows and movies

*tucks you in with fuzzy blanket* *pats your head*

You’ll be okay, friend <3

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In the Darkness

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

With each passing day, this Riddler was growing into a bigger problem.

First, it was just some weird internet activity, something that could be written off as just someone getting too comfortable in one internet forum that promoted 'freedom of speech’. Then this activity grew into small crimes of arson being committed throughout Gotham and then cops and people who worked small jobs in the government were showing up brutally beaten with question marks carved into their skin, broken bones, and tape over their mouths and now the next step of escalation has revealed itself; on October 31st, the Mayor was killed inside his own mansion.

'What does a lier do when he's dead?'

Bruce closed his tired eyes for the hundredth time, rewinding the footage of his lenses one more time. The fact that one person was behind all this elaborate plan to taunt the city officials was still baffling to Bruce. At first, he considered that a group of terrorists must have been behind the targeting of cops and government officials but it was too organized. It was clear that whoever was behind the Mayor's death had been carefully planning every step of the way. It must be one brain behind it all, someone taken over by hatred towards Gotham and it's citizens.

When that little boy showed up on the screen in front of him, Bruce paused the footage. As much as he hated himself for making the comparison between himself and the boy, he hated himself even more for drawing one more parallel between the little boy and the girl imprisoned inside Batcave’s questioning room right now.

One more orphan in Gotham City.

His eyes, exhausted from reviewing hours and hours of footage from his patrol that night, closed against his will again. Bruce's body desperately needed some rest, since the Riddler started to show more and more brutality in his attacks, Bruce felt the need to go on patrol every single night and didn't let his wounds heal properly. Alfred thought that Bruce was injecting adrenaline every night but the truth was much darker than that; Bruce knew that his little dirty secret has a lot to do with this sudden thirst for blood and that sooner or later Alfred would find out about her.

Mina gave him strength without even noticing.

After the patrol, when he went down to her makeshift room to find that girl excitedly expecting him, it made all the pain go away. When she touched him, so softly like she was afraid to hurt him, or when she asked if he was hurt, her voice fogged his brain and the images of the gruesome crime scenes and the worry about Gotham’s upcoming election were gone.

It was like a drug and he couldn't get enough of her.

{...}

Watching her through the many cameras installed inside her makeshift room - that was previously an interrogation room, with a bulletproof door and soundproof walls - made his heart tight in his chest.

Bruce swore to himself that he would release her with a generous sum of money after she was better but now that he had revealed his identity to her what could he do?

While the answer didn’t come to him, he was trying to put some distance between them. He removed the chain of her ankle while she slept and watched her closely through the cameras, even getting himself a portable screen so he could watch her while in patrol.

Bruce was impressed, that despise her blindness, she could walk around the bed and into the bathroom without bumping into anything and how sometimes she sat in silence, eyes fixed on the door. He missed being able to look at her face closely; even through the grey film that clouded her eyes, there was so much she expressed through those broken windows: her kindness and innocence pulled Bruce like a magnet.

He liked to tell himself that she sat there waiting for him.

As the days went by, the girl finally seemed to notice that the only contact she had with another human being was when Bruce Wayne stepped close to the door and pushed a tray of food and a bottle of water through a small window near the bottom of the door. By the fifth time, he came by to deliver food without entering the room, as Bruce walked back to his cave he pulled the small screen out of his pocket to be surprised and heartbroken to find the girl sitting in bed crying. He wanted to come back and hug her and kiss her tears away, but he stopped himself every time.

Watching her shower was one of the hardest parts of his day. He told himself that the only reason he was watching her was that he wanted to make sure she wouldn't slip and eventually hurt herself, but it was a lame excuse. Mina was a true beauty; now that her bones weren’t poking her skin and there was color to her face, Bruce hated himself for desiring her. Damn, how he desired her. Desired to touch and feel her skin under his fingers and make her cry out his name, look into the eyes while he took her over and over again.

When the fact that she might be a virgin crossed Bruce’s mind it made the tent inside his pants even tighter.

He wanted to be her first and last.

{...}

Bruce strolled through the maze, just letting his exhausted body take him.

Part of his brain condemned him for having these dirty feelings for someone vulnerable and helpless like Mina but the other part didn’t care. Mina was the only thing that kept him going throughout these dark times that took over Gotham. If the Bat was Gotham’s only hope, Mina was his. He needed to look into her grey eyes to make all his pain and hidden fears disappear. She was the only one who could do that.

Punching the eight digit-code into the screen on the wall, the heavy metal door opened and he quickly got inside the room, trying his best to not wake her up. The room was dark, saving from the faint light coming from the bathroom.

Mina hated being in the complete darkness.

Smiling softly at the way she coddled under the fluffy blanket he had given her, he sat on the bed, carefully. Mina looked serene, innocent, and completely defenseless and his mind yelled at him for violating someone so delicate with his darkness.

A kiss.

That’s all he wanted.

Bending over her, Bruce pressed their lips together.

His heart exploded inside his chest and all the thoughts that tried to stop him went suddenly quiet.

Mina shifted a little bit before opening her grey eyes and staring back at him. Using his finger to gently push a lock of black hair stuck to her cheek to the side, he waited for her to come back to her senses. His face was still looming over hers, his scent taking over her senses.

“Mister Wayne?” she asked, still groggy. Damn it, she was adorable. “Is there anything wrong?”

He quickly pressed another peck to her lips and then her rosy cheek before responding to her.

“Nothing's wrong. Go back to sleep, darling”

{Also posted on my AO3}

#the batman 2022 #rob pattinson #dark bruce wayne #dark fic #original character #robert pattinson #batman 2022 #yandere bruce wayne #battison x reader #oc

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The Black Cat Squish Plush is AVAILABLE HERE 😳

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MY DEAR SPECIAL BOY

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RUNNING UP THAT HILL BY KATE BUSH CAN AND WILL SAVE YOU FROM DEMONS

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In the Darkness

PART TWO

PART THREE

Living in almost complete darkness it's hard for someone who's been scared of the dark for years.

Opening your eyes and not being able to see the ceiling above you, bumping into furniture, losing the ability to read, and much more. It's been a constant fight against the waves that wanted to drown her. The only comfort Mina had was when recently after loosing her vision, she slowly learned to see the golden warmth of sources of light and how noise was her ally; how her other functioning senses had become a little more heightened. That's why when Mina turned to petty theft to survive, she was a big fan of snatching lamps and flashlights. Her small apartment was never completely dark.

That's why when she opened her eyes and was completely surrounded by darkness, panic started to set in.

This wasn't her apartment. She wasn't laying on her bed.

The pain on the nape of the neck was strong and disorienting. When trying to kick the blanket that was laid on top of her body, the cold sound of metal rattling paralyzed her body. With trembling hands, Mina felt her body and noticed how her pants were missing and as she suspected, there was a cuff around her left ankle.

Chills traveled up and down her spine as the tightness of the room settled with her. It was closed and suffocating and cold, even if she was covered by a blanked, the chilly air still poked her face and unprotected arms. The image of someone undressing her while she was unconscious made her sick, but other than the discomfort of the cuff around the ankle, her body seemed unharmed.

That's when the memories of the prior night hit her. The debt collectors who broke into her place, the sound of glass breaking and struggle. The darkness.

Her breathing got more erratic as her ear picked something shifting on her right. Mina froze, fears running through her veins.

Someone was there with her.

At least that is what she believed. The room had no apparent source of light but Mina could feel a pair of predatory eyes gazing at her.

Mina never felt so vulnerable. So afraid.

Closing her eyes, she heard the person standing up and taking slow steps towards her. Heavy and imposing steps, until this person was standing right next to her, Mina could feel the fabric of this person's pants on her knuckles. Mina dared to open her eyes and then her stomach dropped at the sight; this person was darker than dark. Even throught her blindness, Mina could distinguish a shadowy figure looming next to her. It was slim, tall and distorted.

A man.

For a moment he just stood there, looking at her.

The shadowy figure leaned over and Mina felt a cold hand her caressing her cheek. So softly that this man must've been afraid of hurting her if his touch was more intense.

Then he retracted his hand and walked away, after what sounded like an electronic keyboard, that suffocating presence was gone and Mina was left alone, in fear.

{...}

Some sort of routine was established.

What Mina assumed was morning, her captor would type a eight digit code into the electronic keyboard a heavy metal door would open and close and he would carefully place a tray filled with food on her lap, sit down on a chair on the corner of the room and watch her. Always a few feet away from her, his presence was imposing, but non-threaning.

Needless to say that was Mina’s favorite part; the tray had freashly baked bread, cookies, warm porridge and a cup with cubed fruit. Mina almost cried while taking a bite of a delicious and warm chocolate-chip cookie, it has been years since she ate fresh food like that. As Mina grew older in the orphanage, she was pushed further and further to the end of the line and had to fill her stomach with left-overs of the younger kids.

After she was done eating, the cuff around her ankle would come off and her captor’s hand would wrap his big hand around her arm and he guide her to a small bathroom that she assumed was attached to the room. He would slowly undress her - being careful to not let his fingers touch her skin - and push her under a shower and let her clean herself for a few minutes. For the first days Mina felt uncomfortable feeling his eyes on her, but after the third or forth time, it was easy to pretend he wasn’t there. She could not see him anyways.

When the shower was done, he would gently pat her skin dry with a fluffy towel. Mina took his moment to concentrate and try to figure out things about her captor; every time she begged for a name, the only answer she got was silence, eventually she gave up trying and tried to put her heighted senses to use. Everytime he accidentally touched her with his bare hands when she was undressed, Mina could feel how rought his hands felt and the tiny scars on his fingertips. Mina could also tell he was a big man, he towered over her easily and on the first days of her captivity, when she was too weak to walk to the shower, he would pick her up like she weighted nothing.

Besides being locked in a place that was protected technologically, her captor was a big and strong man. Mina understood that she never stood a chance against him and if he was taking care of her to sell her organs later, she was ok with that.

She was tired of fighting to live.

By the seventh or eight time he came to see her, he silently put a bottle in her hand and Mina sniffed the product inside, smiling a little at the smell of roses. She carefully washed her hair and after she was dressed in a clean and fresh underwear and tank top, he stopped her in front of the sink and out of nowhere Mina heard a ‘snip’ near her ear and a piece her hair fell. He’d cut her hair, shoulder length.

She didn’t knew how to feel about him.

After cutting her hair, his fingers worked through the strands of her thick hair to undo any knot left. She felt confused. Why was he taking care of her? Feeding her, being careful to not touch her, but at the same time undressed her and watched as she showered. She had no ideia where she was or what was going to happen with her but at the other end, her captor treated her like she was a fragile piece of expensive porcelain. She wasn't beaten or assaulted. This was a good thing, right? Mina Helena Jacobs had no choice than to learn how to take care of herself since an young age and even after that horrible fever took her vision away, she had to learn how to adapt to her new reality or she was going to be left behind to die. Not even her own mom wanted to take care of her, that's why the idea of this unknown man treating her good seemed so absurd.

By the tenth time he came to visit her, Mina resented herself for feeling excited to be in his presence. To be in the presence of a man who took for freedom away and looked her in the dark.

As usual he typed the eight digit code, the metal door opened and closed while Mina was sitting against the wall with her knees pressed to her chest.

There was no tray with food.

Something felt different.

His steps were heavy and loud, like he was wearing a heavy medieval armor. The metal bed groaned when he sat down in front of her, her toes touched something hard, cold and wet. Was he really wearing an armor?

Mina's heart raced when the smell of blood reached her.

His intense gaze was almost burning her skin but nothing was said. After what seemed like hours Mina decided against the voice of reason and with very slow and calculated movement, she raised her hand in his direction, asking for permission to touch him. It was almost like he understood her unspoken language as he wrapped his gloved fingers around her wrist and brought her hand to his cheek, leaning into her touch.

Mina felt overwhelmed. This touch was intimate; for the first time in god know how long, he was allowing her to have a little contact with him. His skin was hot under her fingertips and it sent chills down her arm.

His face was wet with water and another thick and vicious liquid. Blood.

Was he hurt?

Her captor had a sharp jaw, thin lips and a slightly crooked nose. Using her pointer finger to get a strand of his overgrown hair out of his eyes, Mina didn't need to see him to tell he was a handsome man.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her hand cupping his face, being careful to not poke the cut he had on his cheek.

"Do you really want to know?"

That voice.

Bruce Wayne?

#the batman 2022 #dark bruce wayne #dark fic #bruce wayne x oc #robert pattinson #batman 2022 #original character

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In the Darkness

PART ONE

PART TWO

Bruce unfolded that yellow piece of paper for the hundredth time in five days. It was a missing person’s poster. His green eyes scanned through the information on the poster one more time - even though he memorized every single word on it.

Name: Mina Helena Jacobs

Age: 17

Heigh: 5’2

Eyes: Grey

Hair Color: Black

Last seen in Gotham, wearing the Falcone’s Home and School for Orphans uniform. Look-out of emergency due to victim’s visual impairment.

Under the basic information, there was a big picture of a young Mina; her long black hair tied into a braid resting on her shoulder. She looked exactly the same as when he first laid eyes on her, the only difference was that her eyes were a shade of light brown or hazel and were bright and attentive. Bruce felt a shiver run down his spine when he recalled her eyes now; gray and cloudy; cold.

Bruce was surprised when the poster popped out when he typed her name into his database - thankfully he was wearing his contacts that day. He was expecting a mugshot or at least a little history with the juvenile court, but as he dived deeper into the Mina Jacobs rabbit hole he knew there was no way back. Especially after he found her address.

{...}

It became a habit.

A sick and guilt-triggering habit, but after five days, Bruce knew he couldn't stop himself anymore.

The building in front of Mina Jacobs’ apartment had a roof-top with ridiculously easy access. With his Batman equipment, he could see everything that happened in her tiny apartment across the street. This is deftly not what the equipment was for, but he found himself climbing to the rooftop every night after patrol and watching the young girl until the sunrise. Bruce knew the little thief’s routine by now; wake up, sit on the fire escape stairs for a least two hours - he still wasn't sure why, go back inside, eat cup noodles, turn loud music on, and endlessly wander around the small space. He also took notice of the absurd amount of lamps she had; even keeping the lights on as she slept. Mina seemed to like well-lit places with plenty of sources of light.

For five days she did not step a foot out of the door.

Bruce assumed she was hesitant to come out since their little encounter five days ago.

Besides pick-pocketing, Mina was a reported missing individual, if she was caught by the cops, she would be arrested or sent to a facility for people with disabilities. Not the friendliest places for a pretty and young girl like her.

Bruce felt like Mina Helena Jacobs was a result of everything wrong, dirty, and corrupt in Gotham. According to the orphanage files, she was left by her mom on the doorstep of a church and grew up in The Falcone’s Home and School for Orphans which was a place forgotten by society; when Mina was sixteen there was a break of acute bronchitis in the orphanage and while trying to fight off the disease, Mina lost at least eighty-five percent of her vision due to a dangerously high fever according to her extensive medical records.

Orphan kids were dying because of the lack of care and investment from the city.

If Bruce’s parents weren’t rich, he could’ve been one of those kids.

Bruce wasn't sure why Mina decided to run away when she turned seventeen and he was even more confused about how a blind girl managed to stay off everyone’s radar for almost three years. But felt sympathy for her, a need to take care of that little girl was almost taking over him, but he knew that she would not come willingly. Would she?

A warm feeling crept up inside his chest every time he looked at her picture and the urge to watch and take care of her grew stronger with each passing day but he knew it was wrong and sick and against his strict morals. For now, he forced himself to observe from afar, watch the girl Gotham set up for misery, struggle to keep her head above the water every single day.

{...}

Something felt eerie today.

There was no loud music coming from Mina's apartment and most of the lights were off - the total opposite of how she liked - and she seemed nervous, walking around the apartment, biting her nails, moving furniture, and stuffing clothes into a duffel bag.

Was she going somewhere? Will see leave Gotham?

When Mina stopped in her tracks and seemed to hold her breath, Bruce grabbed his binoculars to get a clear idea of what was happening, his whole body tensioning, ready for action; his sixth sense telling him she was in danger. She seemed to be sensing danger.

Four floors downstairs, a little commotion was happening. Two large men, wearing black suits were making their way to the staircase. Bruce turned his attention to Mina and watched as she stumbled around to turn off all sources of light inside the apartment - there were many since she seemed to like bright places. She grabbed the duffel bag and quickly ran to the kitchen to grab a knife.

Something was wrong.

His instincts kicked in fast, as Bruce dropped his equipment, pulled his stealth mask over his face and jumped over the side of the building landing on the metal fire escape steps with a loud clunk.

On the other side of the street, Mina curled herself into a ball inside her closet, clutching the knife in her hands so hard she could no longer feel her fingertips. The owner of the building she lived in was a shady character, Mina didn't have to see him assume that; she heard the banging on doors, people screaming and women being dragged out of the building, but the rent was cheap and even thought the owner knew what Mina did to pay rent and put food on her table, he didn’t care, as long as she paid him.

Rent was three weeks late. Because of her little encounter with no other than Bruce Wayne, Mina had been terrified of committing her petty crimes against the citizens of Gotham. The Wayne family had so much money and was so powerful that of course, the only heir to that fortune and power has every important official in Gotham eating out of the palm of hiS hand; Mina was sure that if Bruce Wayne found her, her body would be found in the river days later, as many - who did something to tick important people - were found.

Gotham is brutal and there is no space for weak people.

'BANG'

Mina's body jolted at the booming sound of the wood door giving up and falling to the floor.

Closing her eyes tight and bringing the knife close to her chest, Mina took a deep breath and concentrated on the sounds of the two men: they were ransacking her place. She heard her lamps being broken, silverware being thrown on the floor, fabric being torn apart and the two individuals talking to each other in a language she couldn't understand.

This is it. This is how I die.

The sound of glass breaking pierced Mina's ears. Then another pair of footsteps was running around the apartment.

Mina felt like her she could puke her heart out and because of the sweat in her hands, the handle of the knife kept slipping between her fingers and cutting the palm of her hand her frail body shaking, drowning in fear. Then she could hear, gasping and painfilled noises, more things breaking, a thud on the wall and then on the floor. The air around her seemed to change. Mina could almost smell fear coming from under the closet door. She also didn't have the comfort of any source of light around her, the warmth that usually brought her. Now she could only rely on her other senses since even though her eyes were open, she was completely in the dark.

Then there were only one pair of footsteps. A thud.

Silence.

Only Mina's frantic breathing.

Then footsteps. Got louder as whoever invaded her apartment approached her hiding space.

{...}

With adrenaline still pumping in his veins, Bruce slowly walked towards the closet, where he could hear cute gasps and heavy breathing.

Opening the door slowly, the shine of the moon invaded and lighten the small space. His body was flooded with relief as he laid his eyes on her, the real flesh and bone Mina this time, not a picture from three years ago. The small girl shook uncontrollably and the kitchen knife was pointed at him. It was adorable. Her eyes were focused behind him, but the knife was pointed directly at his face.

He couldn't let this opportunity pass.

Existing the closet, walking through the mess of the apartments and the two bloody bodies on the floor, Bruce removed a black pillowcase from a pillow. Walking back to where Mina was still curled up, he quickly grabbed her tiny wrist and twisted, making her hiss in pain, the knife falling from her grip. Pulling her up with ease, he took one more look at her delicate features before placing the pillowcase on her head, turning her body around and using the outside of his elbow to hit the nape of her neck, making Mina Helena Jacobs fall limp into his arms.

#bruce wayne #batman #robert pattinson #batman 2022 #dark bruce wayne #dark fic

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