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riddledwithrats · 3 months

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In The Midnight Hour

Chapter Four: And It Feels Like Home

>chapters one, two, three

Summary: Reader is taken to Falcone's office and beaten within an inch of her life.

Words: 1,808 (kinda short but I wanted to give y’all at least a little bit! one more chapter left :))

Warnings: kidnapping, extreme violence, death threats, major character death, degradation, religious imagery, hurt/comfort (18+)

“I thought you made a deal, boss?”

Voices ring in your ears and blood drips out of your nose and mouth. There’s no light and you can’t tell if it’s because the room is dark or if your eyes are shut.

“I only made that deal to placate Oz, he’s a fuckin’ schmuck if he thinks I’m just gonna let her go.”

You groan and try to roll over but your arm shoots out in pain, and a squeal of agony wretches its way through your throat. You’re too delirious to recognize the voices, your ears sound all fuzzy and you can’t see anything.

Tears begin to roll down your face as you gently prod at your eyes, they’re almost fully swollen shut. Someone has been wailing on you for a very long time it seems.

“Oh, look. The bitch is awake!” A rough voice says near you, it only gets closer. You can feel the wretched breath on your neck, it reeks of whiskey and tequila. A delicate touch follows the trail of your tears, slowly beginning to scratch the tip of their nail into your skin.

You cry out in pain, your eyes beginning to open just slightly. A sliver of light blinds you, and Falcone's face comes into view. His face is deep red, he’s seething as he stares daggers into you.

“How fucking could you?” You begin to shake and whimper as he grabs you roughly by the shoulders. His grip is excruciating, you can feel bruises forming already. “You let him fucking slobber all over you like a dog, you WHORE. DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?”

You can’t think, all you can do is scream, cry, and whimper. He begins to laugh at you.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, angel.” He leans back a little, sitting on his knees beside your trembling form. “He’s fucking incompetent, he’s an idiot for Christ's sake! What does he got that I don’t, baby?”

Falcone grabs you by the throat and makes you look him in the eyes. He’s waiting for an answer, squeezing your windpipe periodically.

“I said, what does he got that I DON’T?” Falcone shouts and it makes your ears ring. Your mouth is dry and you can barely form words in your head but you mutter an answer out anyways.

“A heart.” Your throat begins to feel like it’s closing.

He doesn’t seem to enjoy this answer.

He grabs you by the sides of your head and begins slamming your head down onto the floor. You can’t stop screaming. Everything begins to go by in slow motion.

The air flows around you like nothing is happening, the sun shines into the office. It bounces orange and yellow light all around you, it looks so beautiful.

Stars begin to form in your sight, you can’t hear anything and you can barely focus your eyes but Falcone hasn’t let up. You feel so helpless. His hands make their way back to your throat, he pushes his thumbs into the front of your esophagus, and it burns. Your lungs feel like they’ve callapsed, your vision is even blurrier than before and you’re sure you’ve lost more than a few brain cells at this point. All you can see is the rage in his eyes.

The elevator door dings.

“CARMINE.”

Oz steps in, he’s fuming. There’s a gun in his hand. Falcone only stops once he hears Oz’s booming voice and his brace clinking against the floor. He looks up at him in awe.

Oz looks ethereal. The sun shines down on him like a halo.

A vague idea enters your head. Your gaze flickers to Falcone; Adam. To the gun; The Apple.

And finally, to Oz. A great, big, powerful Serpent.

A loud bang echoes through the office. A heavy weight falls onto your chest, and slickness splatters onto your face. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re finally free.

Your eyes fall shut and you can’t open them anymore.

Waking up in a hospital is jarring, specifically because you hadn’t expected to wake up at all. But the sterile white walls, the linen covers, and the fluorescent lights weren’t entirely unwelcome.

There’s a brace on your arm and on one of your knees, but you don’t feel any pain. You look at your injuries in confusion, why didn’t they hurt?

“They’ve got you on a lot of painkillers, sweetheart.” The rumbling voice cracks as it speaks. You look over to your left, Oz is sitting in a chair that looks much too small for him. There’s a pillow and a blanket next to him, as well as a cup of water and some magazines. He looks tired like he hasn’t taken his eyes off you in days. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna wake up, doll.”

Oz begins to choke up, he looks ecstatic that you’re awake but he just can’t stop crying. You don’t remember much of what happened. All you can remember is the pain… and the sun.

You don’t see the sun now though, it looks to be pitch black outside, like it’s the middle of the night. Oz reaches a hand out towards yours, he holds your hand gently.

“I-I’ll call the nurse, sweetheart.” He stands up and presses a button next to your bed.

“Did you kill him, Oz?” You ask as he freezes in place, hand still hovering to your side. He looks at you, visibly stiff like he wasn’t prepared for the question but simultaneously like he knew you were going to ask it from the moment you woke up.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

He sits back down and waits for your reply, watching every tiny twitch of your face to gauge your reaction.

“Good.” You whisper out, eyes closed and leaning back into the barely-comforting cushion of the hospital bed. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you feel light and free like every chain that had been holding you down finally snapped.

He snorts out a small laugh, but when you sneak a look at him he looks incredibly solemn. You’re sure there’s a lot of stuff that has unraveled, or been brought up, because of his killing Falcone. The foundation of his business has become shaky and fragile, plenty of people are going to try and make a feeble attempt at the newly opened job position.

But none of them will be nearly as fast as Oz.

“Oz?” You call out to him softly, watching as his dejected eyes raise to meet yours. A fire burns in the pit of your stomach, a sense of pride and determination flares within your chest. You take a deep breath and look him, deathly serious, in the eye. “This city is yours now. No one can take it from you.”

Oz sits up at attention, he looks at you bewildered. He secretly shudders at the realization that you definitely just read his mind. He tries to gain his composure, sending a cheeky, almost shy, smile your way as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I wish it was that easy, sweetheart.” He chuckles dryly, but stops abruptly at the resolute look in your eyes. You’re not trying to reassure him… You’re stating a fact. One that seems to be very near and dear to your heart. Oz sighs, looking at you softly.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

A few seconds go by of you both staring deep into each others eyes, before Oz comes back to reality. Just as he opens his mouth to say something else, the door handle jiggles slowly before a young women enters.

She’s dressed head to toe in purple scrubs and it makes you squint a little at the vibrant color. She says something in greeting but you don’t hear much of it, tuning out very fast as she does a routine check of your health. Asking you basic questions.

Apparently, you had been unconscious for around three days but they had kept a vigilant eye on you, and reassured Oz that you would be awake in no time. Oz had also kept a vigilant eye on you, the nurse says this after he leaves the room to fetch you something to eat.

“What?” You ask quietly, looking at her quizzically. You’re sure there’s much more important things he could’ve been doing, but the blanket, paper cup of water, and discarded coat where Oz was sitting tells a different story.

“Yeah, he barely left your side. Only really left to go the bathroom and begrudgingly get food at the insistence of myself.” She giggles a little, not noticing the expression on your face.

“Oh.”

She leaves a little while after that, only really making small chit chat after she’s assessed that you’re in fairly good shape considering the circumstances.

Of course he would stay, you think. It would be out of character for him to just leave you, a crumpled heap of a person on the floor. Although he had wanted to kill Carmine for a very long time, there was very little chance he would ever do it if Falcone hadn’t tried what he had.

The thought of Oz wanting to save you makes you blush, the heat in your face doesn’t seem to go away even as Oz enters the room with some food for you and himself.

He smiles at you, not a smirk but a real, true smile. He brandishes the plain hospital food for you to see, and your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

“The nurse said you could be discharged from the hospital today, doll.” He says as he sits down in the chair beside your bed. He hands you something to eat, before relaxing into the chair. “And uh, well… I was wondering if you’d come stay with me for a while, sugar.”

That takes you back a little.

“What? Why, Oz?” You ask in confusion.

“Well, I don’t mean this in a rude way, doll, but I feel like every time I take my eyes off you, you get the shit beaten out of you.” Oz chuckles dryly, but he looks nervous. “I just, I worry about you, y’know? Don’t want you to get hurt no more, especially if it’s because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Oz…”

He doesn’t look convinced, but before he can argue the nurse comes back in. She looks shy and apologetic for interrupting, but she steps further into the room anyways.

“Your paperwork is all finished, you’re free to leave.” She says with a gentle smile, and as Oz and yourself nod she walks back out swiftly.

Oz looks at you, he seems to be thinking very deeply before he says:

“C’mon, doll, let’s get going.” He stands up and helps you get ready to leave.

#here y’all go!! one more to go!#i’m going to start writing more often so hopefully these will get out faster im so slow lol #oz cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #farrell!penguin #farrell!penguin x reader #the batman (2022)#my writing

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gilverrwrites · 9 days

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Hello, dear! Could you please write something about 2022 Oz with a reader who is insecure about her torso and often chooses to keep her shirt on when they are being intimate? She is particularly shy about her breasts (I don't know if you need this information, but they are kinda large and she doesn't like the shape of them). Doesn't have to be smut, just fluffy comfort! Thank you so much and no pressure at all! ♥️

The Gift

2022!Penguin/Fem!Reader ≈800 words

AN: Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic, and have a wonderful rest of your day. ♥️

Oz comforts you have you confide him that you don't like the most recent gift he bought you. Rated: M

CWs: Body dysmorphia, petnames: doll, implied sexual relationship.

Please remember: You are beautiful, as you are.

The fabric is unbelievably soft between your fingers. A deep regal purple with fine black embroidery, a cute heart-shaped gem set in gold dangles from the cleavage of the bra. It was such a beautiful set, and Oz had looked so chuffed when you’d opened it. So excited to see you in his gift.

But as you sat at your vanity, preparing for your celebratory night, you just couldn’t bring yourself to put it on. Couldn’t bear the idea of how you would look in it, so exposed. Underwear this delicate wasn’t meant for bodies like yours, at least in your opinion.

The worst part was knowing Ozzie was waiting for you, eager for a glimpse, and he’d be disappointed either by your refusal to wear it or by the unsightly image he’d have to look at if you did.

So wrapped in your thoughts, you don’t notice Ozwald entering or the sound of his uneven footsteps, not until you catch the sight of him in the mirror’s reflection.

“What’s wrong doll?” He asked, concern furrowing his brow. His eyes scan your face before falling to the lingerie clutched in your hands. “You don’t like my gift?”

“No, I do, they’re beautiful.” You reassure him, you’d always admired his taste. But… “I just don’t think I can wear it.”

“Why not?” He squints his eyes and tilts his head, puzzled, but laughing, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Did I get the wrong size or somethin’?”

“Not it’s not that either.” You look down, unable to face him, unsure how to approach the conversation from here. The sight of the underwear isn’t helping, so gently place it back in the gift bag.

“Then what is it?” He leans down, baring his weight on your shoulder for support as he places a kiss to the back of your head. Trying to comfort you as best he can without knowing what is wrong. “Don’t keep me in the dark here, you got me worryin’.”

“I just…” You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for your confession. It’s hard; to admit your insecurities aloud, especially knowing you’re likely to disappoint Oz in the process. But the alternative feels impossible. “It’ll show too much, I know I won’t feel good in it.”

“Is that it? That’s why you never wanna take your clothes off when we’re doin' it?” He shakes his head, dismissively, more to himself than you. With a sigh he turns from you, making his way over to the bed. Seated, with the pressure off his bad leg, he looks relieved, until he looks at you. His face turns sombre. He purses his lips, mulling over what he’ll say next. “Look, I ain’t exactly one to judge, you know?”

He gestures to his scarred lip before patting his plump belly. You hate the implication, that he might be lesser because of his weight, or his scars. Hypocritical, as is human nature. You open your mouth to object, but he stops you, holding his hand up briefly as he begins to talk.

“I ain’t done. This ain’t about me.” He has a knack for commandeering a conversation without making you feel small or unheard. “If it isn’t obvious, I think you’re beautiful, all of you, flaws an everythin’.”

He gestures towards you, finally offering you a smile. Your body grows warm, you can’t help but smile, after all this time he still makes you feel coy under his gaze. His words won't heal everything, but they make you feel at ease in the moment.

“Come sit with me.” He pats his good leg, and you make your way over, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settle on his thigh. A strong hand settles in the curve of your back, keeping you up straight.

“I didn’t pick those out 'cause I thought they’d make you look good; I think you look good all the time.” Up close you can feel the warmth of his brandy steeped breath on your neck, he presses a kiss to your skin before placing his free hand under your chin, directing you to look at him as he continues. “Drives me crazy, tryin’ to get work done and you’re just there, lookin’ like sex on legs no matter what you’re wearin’.”

“But if it means that much to ya, we can take ‘em back, you can pick out somethin’ that makes you feel your best.” He leans in, pressing a greedy kiss to your lips. You sigh into him, embracing the familiar feel and taste of him as he slips his hand up to your cheek, using it to guide your face closer. When you eventually pull away, he runs the back of a thick, ringed finger against your skin and asks; “How does that sound?”

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#the penguin #the penguin x reader #the penguin imagine #oswald cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot imagine #farrell!penguin #gilverrwrites #scheduled post

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