#Yandere grim reaper

[yandere-writer-momo]

Wanted to write something short and angsty but also with the dabble of fantasy. Enjoy

Yandere Short Stories: Loved By Death

Yandere GN Grim Reaper x Afab MMA Fighter Reader

A meadow full of forget me note greeted (your name) when she finally opened her eyes. The baby blue flowers felt unwelcoming despite their delicate scent. Where was she? All she remembered was winning the tournament and then… and then it was all blank.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet.” A familiar voice reached her ears which made her freeze. (Your name) whipped her head around to come face to face with her little sister. The young girl still had the same innocent appearance she had the last time she saw her… before she was murdered. “It’s not your time.”

(Your name) rushed forward and grabbed the little girl’s hand. She didn’t want to leave her sister, she didn’t want to live without seeing her face again.

“Ava, I’m here… I’m here with you.” (Your name) muttered, her expression hopeful. “Please, I want to stay this time. Please let me stay with you…”

Ava frowned and bent down to grab her older sister’s cheeks. Her thumbs brushed away the hot tears. Why were Ava’s fingers so cold? She was never so cold…

“You have a bigger purpose, big sister. You’re meant for so much more than chasing after death.” Ava whispered. “You need to let me go. There are people that will love you-“

“I don’t care about other people, I simply want to stay with you. I want to wake up from this hellish nightmare to see my precious little sister.” (Your name) clung to her sister who wrapped her small arms around her. Ava was cold like ice and it upset (your name) even more. “It’s my fault I couldn’t protect you. It should have been me-“

Ava placed her fingers over (your name)’s lips to silence her. “It’s not your fault, it was never your fault.”

(Your name) nodded her head and held Ava closer to her body. Her chin rested on the small girl’s blonde locks. Even though they were not related by blood, Ava was her most precious person. Her pillar and strength.

When Ava gruesomely died at the hands of a rival, (your name) couldn’t forgive herself. If she hadn’t gotten into a man’s world of martial arts, would the outcome have been different? Would Ava still be alive? What if she had just settled for an idyllic life rather than one of glory and gore?

(Your name)’s head spun with many what ifs, yet none satisfied her desire for a different outcome. So (your name) always settled for putting herself in the path of death every time. All so she could see her little sister once more, to sit in this picturesque field of flowers.

“You’re over thinking again.” Ava hummed while she pulled back. Her small fingers poked (your name)’s furrowed brow. “You keep furrowing your brow and you’ll put wrinkles on your pretty face. Then how will you ever get a husband?”

(Your name) bitterly laughed. “How could I ever love a man when they have only ever shown us violence.”

“You’re such a Debbie downer.” Ava sighed, the young girl pointed at the sky that showed a bloody (your name) receiving CPR by the paramedics. “You’re going to be in so much pain when you go back. You better hurry before you shorten your life even more. Stop your dance with death, before you do die for real.”

“And what if I don’t?” (Your name) asked in a hushed tone. “If I continue down this path… will I see you again or will I burn?”

Ava chuckled. “I thought you weren’t religious? We just won’t be able to meet for awhile is all. This is the fiftieth time this year that you’ve come to see me, you mad woman.”

“Is it so strange to want to see my most precious person?”

“It is. People are starting to think you’re the undead.” Ava stood up and held her hand out for (your name) to take. “Walk with me.”

“Of course. It’s what I look most forward to.”

The two girls walked together in the field of flowers for a few short minutes before they stood in front of a golden door.

“This is where we part again. Big sis?” Ava smiled warmly at (your name). “Please take care of yourself. I better not see you here again. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. No promises.” (Your name) put her hands in her pocket, the young woman giving Ava a warm smile. “I love you more.”

The two sisters then parted ways, Ava now left alone once more in her field of flowers. The young girl turned around to stare at the hooded figure that stood on the hill.

“For how long do you and my sister plan to dance, death?” Ava asked in a hushed tone, she was perplexed by the reaper’s fascination. “Do you enjoy this game that much?”

Death nodded, the skeleton’s red eyes admired the flowers that slowly began to rot and decay as they walked closer to Ava. “Until she begs me to take her.”

Ava rolled her eyes at the reaper whose bones rattled with excitement. Never would the blonde have thought Death was a lovesick fool.

The reaper sighed before he turned to Ava. “Do you think she’d like me if I had flesh? Should I be more masculine or feminine presenting?”

Ava glanced the skeleton up and down. “I don’t think she’s ever dated before so I don’t think it’d matter.”

The reaper hugged themself with their skeletal arms. How badly they wished to hug (your name), to hold her tightly and never let her go. They could picture it! They were sure (your name) would love to stay in this flower field with Ava and them till the end of time!

“You’re a freak.” Ava muttered at the skeleton who held their cheeks like a school girl with a crush. “Stop that. You’re supposed to be a grim reaper, not a grim simp.”

“You have no idea the magnitude of my feelings. To roam my entire existence reaping the souls of the deceased.” The reaper replied in a hushed tone. “And then to meet someone who just won’t die… whose soul will not stay in my real… she’s perfect.”

Ava sighed and sat down in the flowers. Her poor, unsuspecting sister was loved by death.

[honeylikesyanderes]

male ocs dick descriptions (pt. 2)

i was thinking about dick again. but like non-human edition?

(sorry for disappearing)

teehee (also part 3?)

18+ mdni please, not proof-read.

----------------------------------------------------

ren

uncircumcised, can adjust the length of his dick at will, but usually keeps it between 7-7.5 inches long, not too girthy but still a good amount of girth, has red vertical birthmarks (matching the ones on his face) that run from the beginning of his foreskin all the way to the base,

his tip is slightly on the thinner side, albeit still thick. his dick does not curve. for hair, ren prefers to keep a tuft of white hair present; not only because he's a fox, but also to protect his darling from intense friction that may occur during sex.

his balls are intimidatingly big and heavy. when he cums, he cums in very thick and creamy spurts that are a slight off-white colour. regardless of how many rounds ren goes, he still cums a copious amount. the amount he cums increases during heats.

ren is a grower, however the difference between him flaccid and him erect isnt that much.

the hex code for his shaft is #EBD9A1 and for his tip its #E67B59. the hex code for the lines on his dick is #C13313

icarus

about 6.5 inches long, very girthy (almost unbearably so), has a couple of thinner veins but they become more pronounced when he's really turned on.

his tip is very thick but turns deep red when he's hard. if you tease him long enough, it will turn so red that it'll start to look a bit purple. his dick is thick all through, but you swear that when he slides in, that the base feels thicker.

for hair, icarus is keeps it completely shaved, as per angel customs. his balls are above average sized and when he's close to cumming, they start to visibly swell. when he cums, his cum is pure white like snow, but with a slight shiny glow to it. its thick like custard and tastes like honey.

icarus is a shower, however there is an increase in his girth when he's flaccid vs when he's hard. he is circumsised as per angel customs.

the hex code for his shaft is #E2B767 and for his tip is #B94F42

avanti

uncircumcised, 7.5 inches, girthy and very thick. avanti's been told that his dick most definitely doesn't match his cute frame.

very veiny all over; he has a thick mushroom tip that leaks a fuck ton of precum even when he's slightly hard. his dick curves upwards (and quite dramatically as well).

for hair, avanti tries to keep it trimmed, but he just ends up forgetting so he'sa bit bushy down there. fortunately, his hair is very soft so its usually no bother. when he does remember to keep things trimmed, you'll see that he has freckles on his pelvic area, and they go all the way up to his v line. his balls are average and taut, he's a bit insecure about it, but he's sensitive enough to forget about his insecurity when you're playing with his balls. when he cums, he cums in about 5 short bursts. the quantity is variable, but usually its a lot. his cum is a very soft yellow colour with a strong (but not unpleasant) smell. when he's in heat, he cums much much more and the smell is much stronger as well.

avanti is a grower and the difference between his flaccid dick and his hard on, is a lot.

bonus: his cum slightly glows in the dark.

the hex code for his shaft is #EFEAC7 and for his tip is DD8BB1

drew

circumcised (he was a christian in his first life), 8 good inches, and very thick. its heavy to hold and looks even heavy in his trousers. if you cant handle dick, you most definitely cant handle drew.

his dick is very veiny, with veins running from the tip all the way doen the shaft. he does have a few veins that start from mid-shaft and run downwards. his tip is mushroom but relativelythe same size as his shaft. his dick does not bend in any direction

for hair, drew is neatly clean shaven always, but its mostly because he's incapable of growing pubic hair due to his grim reaper status. his balls are just like his cock; heavy and massive.

the most standout thing about drew is actually the fact that he has black tendrils that can come out during sex. they're shadowy and whispy, however when he uses them to hold you in place (or even penetrate you in some instances), they materialise into solid bodies. [basically they look shadowy until they touch you, then they become solid]

when he cums, he cums 1 long spurt of thick semi-transparent cum, followed by 2 shorter spurts. his cum is a slight gray colour (think milk mixed with a bit of activated charcoal).

drew is a shower, and a proper one at that.

the hex code for his shaft is #F6F0F0, and for his tip is #F4CCCC

(i dont have enough energy to do atlas, plus there's not enough reader interest in him so)

[heartfullofleeches]

Since I will ( likely ) never finish this. Here is an incomplete sketch of Maddox I did months ago. He may not look good, but in my defense I do not know how to draw hoodie.

Ahh- shit, I thought I answered this but apparently I forgot. I think you might need a new screen, cause he is absolutely beautiful and I love this sm. Thank you for drawing the best boi and hope you're doing well

[valentine-cafe]

I wanna see some of your characters (*any* of your characters honestly, i'm not that picky and theyre all attractive anyway😍) and their first time bottoming for dom!top male reader because ive been going through that tag specifically and i would just love more of that typa content with your characterss

(Ps. Ive been reading your works for a while now and i gotta say im a huge fan)

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆◞ ₊˚

𖹭. a selection of characters when you top them for the first time /top male!reader

꒰ EEE we’re so happy that you like our content! we wanted to write this with all the characters but who knows how long that would take us sobs - might redo this req in the future with even more! BUT YES MORE TOP MALE READER <3 . . . might have gone a bit wild with rishen 1311 ꒱

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 781 ꒱ is someone that people tend to forget is a switch. top-leaning, yes, but a switch no less. he’s gotta really trust you in order to let you take control though. but when you do? he makes you work for it. the first time you topped him was a late night in his apartment. both of you kissing and making out on the sofa after playing a few games. the last thing he expected was for you to actually fight him for dominance. it was thrilling - but what was even more thrilling was when you won.

admittedly he was a little nervous. it was so new. seeing the cocky merc now gripping onto your arms and looking at you with those glassy emerald eyes of his. “stop if I tell you to - okay?”

but oh he wouldn’t even dream of telling you to stop. he was squirming and creaming everywhere by the time you fucked the bratiness out of him. which took quite a bit in all honesty.

but when you had him there. pinned to his bed and pounding into him from behind. so that all he could do was cling onto the sheets and let out all sorts of noises of pleasure. his deep voice now pitched. whiney.

“a-amor - d-dios amoorcittooo,” he whines out as you milk another orgasm out of him. all while he whimpers for you to fill him up again. splutters about being a good boy for you. it’s like a complete switch up when you get him under you — and the poor thing cums like a fountain.

he wants you to manhandle him. to be rough. mean. put him in his place and make him feel vulnerable — because he let you. and he wants you to fuck him until he’s on a verge of tears. might as well make the most of it, yeah?

mercenary x reader, antihero x reader, enigma x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHIMA 781 ꒱ would be quite the surprise for you as well. one would think that someone of her demeanour is a top dom, right? she’s a switch — she can quickly flip between being the mommy making you hump her high heel or the pillow princess.

listen, she also needs some taking care of. especially with how hard she works. so when you offered to top for the first time she wasn’t too opposed. doesn’t mean she didn’t make you work for it a little.

she can be a brat too — but one who backs off immediately when they know they’ve met their match. needless to say, when you had her bouncing on your dick and digging her black nails down your shoulders and back, she had long since given in.

“f-fuck - fuck anh doll - please - please can’tcantt-” she’d bury her face into your neck to try and hide her noises. you’d have to stop her from rolling her hips down and trying to please you instead. murmuring to her ear about how tonight was about her.

you’d push her into the pillow eventually. letting her rest comfortably while you did the work. being mindful of how overstimulated she can get and making sure to eat her out nice and slowly when it was all over. all so she could gasp into the air about how perfect you were while clinging onto your hair and whimpering.

scientist x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 209 ꒱ is another switch but god is this man a brat. he’s awful. riling you up in so many different ways because he wants to see just how far he can push you. because he’s in for it. whatever your kink is — so is his. he’ll go to the extremes and he wants to know just how far you go too.

so imagine his surprise when you pinned him over his examination table. pushing the dress he’d worn for work up and spanking his red-laced ass. how you tied his hands behind his back with his lab coat. pushing into him without a care and rutting his poor, bratty hole until he was creaming all over.

he’s sensitive. beyond sensitive. by the second climax he’d be whining for you. spluttering out apologies and trying to earn your favour. if only to grin at you all tiredly and splutter out a firm no when you asked if he was “really sorry?”

strap his wrists down to that examination table and make him fuck his hips back into you. make him work for it as he cries and whines to cum. because here's a beautiful thing about the scientist - he can’t make himself cum.

“p-please- por favor p-porr favv- hngh b-baby I - I’ll be good pleaseplease hnnhh need t-to cum so bad.”

be rough with him. force him to his knees and fuck his throat. he’ll look at you with pretty maroon eyes and beg even more. all so that you can ram him on your cock again and make him squirt until he’s seeing stars. make him feel helpless. make him feel like all he’s good for is clenching around your dick and cumming all over himself. he’ll love you for it.

mad scientist x reader, moth-mantis-spider monster x reader, yandere x reader, villain x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ HAITĀO 99484 ꒱ is a bottom who was more than thrilled to have you top. he did inform you of his scoliosis before hand, reminding you that while he did have quite the stamina as a reaper, to just not overdo it because of the pains in his back.

as such you’d make sure to lay him back nice and comfortably. your first time with him was rather slow and tender. mostly because you were a little afraid of hurting him.

he’s whiney. vocal. making sure that you know just how much he’s enjoying it. the way he keeps pressing desperate little kisses down your throat and stirring his hips up into you tells you that he wants you to feel just as good.

might at one point beg to take a break just so he can suck you off for a bit. he loves the feeling of your hand in his hair and gently guiding him. and his mouth? fuck it was heaven, he definitely knows what’s doing.

would eventually offer to ride you after. which you were a little hesitant about because of his condition — but he assured you that he’d be fine. so the night would drone on with your back against the headboard and arms hooked around you. kissing and whining into each other’s mouths as he bounces at the pace you set for him.

“s-s’good gege - gege,” he whines, creaming all over your abdomen again as he rocks his hips sloppily. “m-more please - please gege, promise I won’t break, please?”

grim reaper x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ YIZÉ 9948E ꒱ is another switch who really loves the rough treatment. he really likes the fighting for dominance. however, he might find himself in some conditions where he just wishes to be pampered and taken care of.

your first time topping was the former. he’s a mercenary and a reaper — he had you pinned and taking his dick first - if only for the tables to be turned before he even knew it. slammed into the sheets and forced to stay still as you snatched a pair of handcuffs he always seems to keep in his drawer.

oh he loved the way you took charge. how you degraded him. bit into his neck and shoulders. spanked and clawed and made his eyes roll back as you pounded him into his own sheets.

all so that he was drooling. all so that he could barely whine out your name. and when you’d slow - thinking he had enough?

why he’d grunt at you to keep going. maybe even call you a bit of a coward.

“wh-what? done? can’t fuck me right yeah?” would quickly turn into a series of gasps and sobs and - “s-sorryssooryy b-baby sorry I’m sorry nhhgfuck fuck! please!”

hes’s a loud one. that much you’d garner. until you fucked his mind numb and he was left to aimlessly cling to you. begging you not to stop. . . even if he blacked out. he’s a wild.

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 1311 ꒱ is a switch who just yearns to be taken care of. he wants it rough yeah, he’ll fight you for it a bit. but you know what? someone of his stressful work life and always having to be the one in control. . . he really wants to let go for someone.

he wants you to take it from him though. he doesn’t want you to be gentle — he’ll tell you that too. tell you that he wanted you to claw, and bite and take.

so when you yanked him by the hair and pushed him up against his desk - making him stand on his high heels as you leaned him over edge. pressing into his front and shoving your tongue down his throat. . . oh he was in heaven. how you gripped at his jaw and made him keep eye contact with you. ordered him too.

how you shoved his panties off to his thighs and mocked him for the lace. he’d be whining for you before you even put it in.

don’t expect him to be so pliant though. he’s got quite the sharp tongue. maybe he just likes the thought of riling you up too.

“that all you got?” “fuck hurry up.” just to see how he gets to you. but that would all fade the moment you’re fucking up into him. forcing his leaning body to steady itself on those high heels that are stained with the number of times both of you have come.

he’ll rake his nails down your shoulders. try to hold his sounds until you’re yanking him by the hair and encouraging him. make him ride you while you sit on his chair. fuck him until he’s squirming and telling you its too much. because it’s never too much. you can tell each time you try with withdraw and he instead pushes his hips down and forces his ass flush against your dick. squirming.

“f-fuck me - fuckmeeplease dios lo n-necesito tanto.” ( “god please I need it so bad” )

he’ll let you take him back to his apartment to go at it again. fuck him into his sofa, his bed, anywhere you want. he’s all yours. always. and god is he touch-starved enough to keep reminding you of that. even when he’s all covered in your cum.

assassin x reader, spy x reader, admiral x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ DENARA 9819 ꒱ is a bottom who really wants to make you feel good and might tire herself out in the process. she’s so used to pressure and having to perform well so during your first time topping her you had to quite literally pin her down and tell her to stop. tell her that you were gonna take care of her. that she needs to relax and just let you fuck her the way she wants.

and oh once you got that out of the way she was all over you. denara is a freak. you got a kink? sure, she’ll try it out. her only request is that you fuck her dumb and drooling.

she was so loud when you took control and drove her into the sheets. admittedly she kept whining about wanting to ride you so eventually you let it happen. pulled her onto your lap and bounced her on your cock. didn’t even give her a smidge of control. watching as her tits bounced and her thighs jiggled as she whined for you.

“b-baby babybabyyy y-you’re sosooo mean angh- mnhhhhgg-”

she wants you to be mean though. wants you to pull at her hair. smack her. grab her. anything you want. all so that she can look at you with her black eyes all teary and her make-up all messy.

will probably beg to suck at your dick so give her that at least. you’ll end up fucking her throat anyway and making her cum untouched. if only to flip her onto her tummy again and fuck her until she’s drooling and whining.

she’ll probably hump at your thigh somewhere through the night when it’s all over. just desperate for more.

sorcerer x reader, healer x reader

[midnight-jupiter]

“HOW UNFORTUNATE…” — ghost

yandere!ghost x gn!reader [a date with death]

SYNOPSIS: the people closest to you have all disappeared or passed, coincidentally after you meet a certain grim reaper for the first time.

— dark content blog, dni if uncomfortable, gaslighting/manipulation, abuse of power, obsession, lmk if i missed anything

YOU WERE STARTING to think that maybe giving Ghost more time to extend your bet was a mistake; perhaps a bad omen.

Originally the plan was for the bet to last one week in order for him to take your soul, but after seeing him out your window was something you never thought he’d do.

You thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad for this deal to continue on a little longer, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him some more, right?

Wrong.

Grim reapers have always been a bad omen but of course you decided to let one get close to you because who wouldn’t? Ghost was sweet, considerate, and the complete opposite of what you expected from a grim reaper.

But you suppose it doesn’t matter, they’re still a bad omen.

Ghost was there when your boss had passed the day after he gave you those flowers, he was there when your friend got into a freak care accident, and he was there when your beloved pet had died.

You don’t believe you should get started on how a few of your coworkers have gone missing too, that would be to muc

Now, you’re starting to believe that he’s the one who caused all of this. Clicking on the call button of the app you used to communicate with him, you drum your fingers on your table waiting for him to pick up.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey,” you great, voice already slightly cold at the thought of him being the source of your problems, “I need to ask you a question that is important for you to take seriously.”

He immediately sat up straight, “Alright, what is it?”

“You aren’t messing with the people I’m close to, right? All of the people I associate with are dead or have gone missing and,” you trailed off, swallowing a lump in your throat at Ghost’s furrowed brows, “I just want to make sure you don’t have anything to do with it.”

“Sunshine, I understand your concern and worry but please believe me when I say that I am merely a pawn in the higher up’s game. Although I’m the most skilled grim reaper of all, even I cannot persuade them,” Ghost explained steadily, “Trust me when I say that you’re the only person’s whose name is circled on my list.”

Your shoulders relaxed at his words, of course he wasn’t at fault for all of the negative things in your life. “Thank you, Ghost,” you smile, “Sorry for doubting you.”

“It’s not a problem sunshine, I understand your skepticism,” he visibly relaxes as you say your goodbyes and hang up.

He wasn’t lying when he said that your name was the only one circled, but he refused to admit that there were new additions to your name — hearts.

What Ghost didn’t necessarily mention either were the names of all your loved ones crossed out with bright red marker, or how they managed to get on his list. Money wasn’t that big of a deal if you were number one after all.

But the way he rubbed his thumb over the letters of your name imprinted on the page made him blush, imaging it was your hand instead. Comforting you lovingly as you were oblivious that he was at fault for your despair.

What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right?

That’s what all mortals say after all.

©midnight-jupiter 2024 : do not steal, repost, or copy my works to any other site

[jessamine-rose]

Hi! Asking ♻️🛠️ for your current WIP and any of your recent posts?

Ohhhh what interesting questions (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

Announcement time:: Pierro x Savior! Darling are included in Church AU!! So far, all I have is a rough outline and a scrapped original/ alternate version with its own ending. I’ll share it here~

Originally, Pierro’s darling is based on Shachath from American Horror Story, an Angel of Death who appears before dying humans to transport their souls to Heaven/ Hell. This role is quite significant in relation to Pierro's species in this AU, which hasn't been changed ^o^

The two have known each other for a long time. However, an argument causes Shachath! Darling to stop all contact with Pierro. During that time, Darling just focuses on their divine duties, though they notice that the other Angels of Death are becoming quite busy and…upset. They refuse to discuss it with Darling, though.

One day, Darling is sent to a specific human, which is odd since it's usually randomized. That is when they appear before the dying soul and make a horrifying realization.

This person was clearly murdered.

No, what’s scarier is the familiar figure standing over the body. It’s Pierro, who is overjoyed to have finally summoned his beloved after years of fruitless killings.

Tldr:: We could’ve had Serial Killer! Pierro for Church AU. Hopefully, the official version will be just as enjoyable for all of you ^^;

11. 🛠 Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Atm my only struggle is finding the time to continue Church AU. I’m still busy with other priorities so I hope you’ll all be patient ^^;

♡

Tagging some Pierro enjoyers in case they’re interested~ @beloved-brynn @leftdestiny-posts @mistymem0ryy @oofasleep

[lovingdeath]

🌹 DEARIL - CHAPTER 1 🩸

🤍 grim reaper!yandere x immortal!reader 🖤 the first time you're set to die, you don't. and the grim reaper assigned to you isn't particularly happy about it. 🤍 warnings: death, an attempted murder, an actual murder, descriptions of gore and pain, yandere tendencies (though not much in this part yet) 🖤 rating: sfw

🕯️ masterlist 🕯️

you don't remember how you ended up with a knife lodged in your neck. your mind went completely blank the moment the knife touched your skin, and suddenly you could no longer perceive anything else around you. who'd done it? why'd they done it? was it deserved? were you someone who deserved such an end? no answers enter your mind, none whispered in the wind.

you sit there, leaning against a dead tree. a shadow runs away, leaving you to drown in your own blood, like a coward. you just know they are. you cough out a laugh, your blood gurgling in your throat. to die to a coward... how disgraceful.

you'd like to kill them for this.

another shadow flitters into your sights, a large flowy cape keeping them from your drooping eyes. you don't think much of the fact that you didn't see them walk up to you. you're not exactly in a position to question such things.

"[mc], 19, second child of the menger family. drowning via blood." a monotone masculine voice lists off. you frown, trying to look at who'd dare to do such a thing in front of a dying person.

"if you are to insult me so, do it looking me in the eyes." you sneer, rivulets of blood leaking from your mouth alongside the words.

"..." the figure is silent, before crouching down to your height. "only a mortal would think facts as insults."

"sometimes they can be..." you mutter, your voice turning into a gasp at the last moment. you cough, which then turns into a coughing fit, blood staining your off-white shirt. when your throat finally calms, you sigh with a whistle.

"are you done?" the figure asks. "death forsake me, dying souls are so bothersome."

you'd answer, but your throat is starting to feel like it's being grated. you finally realize that you actually have a knife in your throat. what the fuck.

the figure extends a pale hand to you. "now, come along. we have an afterlife to get to."

you raise your brow, wondering why they seem so certain that you'll just go along with whatever they want. an awkward silence extends around you as neither of you budge from your positions.

their hand falters, their head tilting beneath their hood. "well? soul, come to me."

you're sort of starting to feel bad for them. you don't think you'd be able to get up even if you wanted to, so their attempts seem truly useless. especially as they start frantically extending their hand to you over and over and over again.

"soul! stop being stubborn!" they finally hit their breaking point, flinging their hood off. you blink. he's distractingly pretty, even with his hollow dead eyes.

"...beaut...ful..." you murmur. you blink in surprise. you didn't mean to say that outloud. you didn't think you could say it out loud.

"wha?!" the figure flusters, an odd shade of red staining his pale cheeks. like wilted roses. "soul, you sure are strange. still clinging to that mortal body of yours. leave it, and stop this nonsense."

"no idea... what yo... mean..." you mutter, your voice getting stronger. you lift your hand, no idea where the strength is coming from, and touch where the knife meets your throat. it's stopped bleeding, though the amount of blood already there makes it hard to tell.

the figure kneels down next to you, tapping his lips contemplatively. you ignore him, grabbing the handle of the damned knife and pull it out. it feels like fire in your throat, but it quickly passes, only a few drops of blood dripping from the remaining wound.

"why, exactly, are you not dying?" he asks.

"don't-" you cough. "don't care."

you struggle to get up, the rough bark stinging your hands as you use the dead and bloody tree for help. the figure makes no move to help you, simply observing you with his dead eyes.

"thanks for the help, stranger." you shoot a glare at the figure.

"i cannot touch living flesh, soul." he answers, glaring at you with the same intensity. "once you're dead, i can be of help."

"yeah, no thank you." you scoff, finally stable enough to stay up without help from the tree. a few unsure steps lead to you confidently walking towards your home. towards where you know that damned coward is hiding.

you will kill them for this.

the figure watches you walk away, before fading from view into the shadows of the forest. but you can feel dead eyes following you still.

you look down at the corpse of your tormentor with hollow eyes. foolish child. the knife that had found it's home in your name is gripped in your hand, now bloody with their blood. her blood.

"well, that was an interesting tale of revenge." the figure is back, leaning on the wall near the locked door of the house. "if you could die now, we shall end this whole debacle."

"no thank you." you mutter, locating the nearest rag to clean your knife. you think you'll be keeping it. it's pretty.

the figure scoffs. "we'll see about that. all mortal souls are to die when they're told to. yours will be no different, i assure you."

you don't answer, done cleaning your new prize and your hands. some blood remains on your shirt, but most of it is your own. you doubt anyone could realize where a few spots are from.

"goodbye, strange figure." you call as you finally walk past him and leave the house. the corpse behind you is left to rot. "i do so hope i won't see you anytime soon again."

the figure watches you leave again, before his eyes fall on the corpse on the ground. he doesn't think they were meant to die today. so much paperwork to do today. so many higher-ups to talk to. how annoying.

how... fascinating.

he'd be sure to go against your wishes. only he would be allowed to take your soul. you would be his to collect and keep. he'd just have to be... patient about it.

yes, patient. that's surely it.

patience.

[turnthepagevn]

Yuuri pegging anon just know whoever you are that I agree with you

People with excellent taste

[clovercalliber]

i really just hope from one fictional man obsession to another and it's a complete 180 in terms of the fictional guy's personality

[suiana]

dead! reader who just recently died and is met with yandere! grim reaper...

"wtf are you actually the grim reaper?"

a gorgeous stallion of a man is right in front of you and you're expected to believe that he's death himself??

"um, no,"

that's right! why would he be a grim reaper? he's too hot to be the one to take your soul-

"i'm actually the grim toucher."

...

the what? you must've misheard him.

"ahaha, i think i heard you wrong-"

"i'm the grim toucher and i'm here to touch you."

you pause, looking up at him before you feel your heart start to pound. wait, wait, wait! why's he getting closer and wriggling his fingers like that???

"what the-!"

"I've been waiting to have you as mine for so long... come here my sweet human!"

that's when you realise that he doesn't even have his scythe.

oh, no wonder he was called the grim toucher instead.

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

WARNINGS: Yandere Behaviors, Drugging, Abuse in form of ‘Training’, Breaking bones.

PAIRINGS: Yandere Hashiras & Yandere Uppermoons x Reader

You’re a fanfic writer who always enjoyed writing deranged yandere bullshit, and a sadistic one at that — you’re always making sure to make your mc’s suffer just because it’s satisfying, and they were never spared from the torturous path you laid out for them.

Little did you know that your grisly storytelling would come back to haunt you, for you ended up getting isekai’d on one of your fanfics, because for some reasons, life decided to be an ass, and the the grim reaper’s scythe whisked you away to the realm of one of your fanfics — and the sensation of being isekai’d into your own creation was disorienting, to say the least.

After all, the very same fanfic that you got reincarnated into was the most disturbing of them all — your yandere kimetsu no yaiba fanfic.

The atrocious acts you've inflicted upon your protagonist are beyond twisted, like seriously fucked up. You didn't just stop at giving them a shitty backstory and psychological trauma — oh no, you cranked it up a notch by tossing in a goddamn harem of yandere nutjobs. These thirsty-as-hell psychos were so off their rockers that they veered straight into bonkers territory, their obsession reaching levels that would make even a deranged serial killer blush.

They were downright bat-shit crazy over the MC, like, borderline certifiable. It was as if the MC was their holy grail, their reason for living.

Not the cute and endearing kind of devotion either; we’re talking hardcore, stalker-level obsession.

The only one who were somewhat less psycho yandereish was Mitsuri... but then there was Obanai, who was a walking danger zone on steroids...

Every damn piece of that twisted fanfic you cooked up is a total shitshow.

Kyojuro went batshit crazy over the MC because they stood up for him against his dickhead of a father. Shinobu turned into a psycho stalker because she couldn't wipe her own ass without the MC's help, resorting to schemes like trying to paralyze and drug them just to keep them on a leash.

Tengen who thought that he could charm the pants off the MC until he got a taste of competition and spiraled into a possessive man..

And then there’s Sanemi who’s the most cray cray of them all... He practically broke the mc’s bones and beat them up into a pulp, all because he couldn't handle his jealous rage and tried to pass it off as some sick form of ‘training’

And the demons? They’re more worst than the hashiras.

And the worst part of it all?

You were now the reincarnation of the MC.

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

𝐀/𝐍: this is just the outline but i think that i’ll publish this one on my wattpad soon after i finished doll smitten, still debating on whether i should make this one a female or male tho^^ +++ this one’s gonna be a harem.

[heirloomgem]

Insatiable {Sung Jinwoo x Reader August One-shot}

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning: Slight Yandere from the reader and Jinwoo. Sorry for the missed grammar.

Hello everyone, I hope you've been well! I would like to present to you this month's one-shot! The timeline is before Jinwoo met Joohee.

The request came from @xxeclipze. [Hello! Can you make a sung jinwoo x s rank fem reader whose a grim reaper class, she's quiet and a simple minded person who has never once joined any guild since they want to stay independent.][Hello! Can you do sung jin woo with a s/o who's a quiet and simple minded person and they wield a scythe, they had never once joined a guild at all. They're a s-rank hunter too :>]

Watching from the podium as every high-rank hunter did practical combat, Sung Jinwoo's eyes never left your figure as you fought your opponent with the grace and precision he had seen in his early days.

Your hands show no wasted movement as you strike, your steps were solid as you stride to your next target, and your eyes, observant of your enemy's weaknesses.

All these never escape him and yet it’s not just these that Jinwoo observe closely.

The way your hair swayed with your movement, the spark in your eyes as you enjoyed the thrill, the curve in your reddish lips as you taunt your opponent, the sweat that trickled down your slender neck as you tilt your head.

Completely different reasons that he shouldn’t have noted in the first place, however to Jinwoo, he fervently etched it into his very being.

Once, Jinwoo heard that a small spark was all that was needed to ignite a man's obsession.

As the weakest E-rank, Jinwoo was always on the verge of death whenever he entered a dungeon. But with the circumstances, he’s been given, he never had a choice but to always take a step towards death.

And this one was no different from the others he had faced and yet so different at the same time.

The sole reason for that is because of you. An unknown S-rank hunter who was not affiliated with any of the guilds however you work with the hunter association in exchange for keeping your identity.

Jinwoo has learned these only by coincidence when you had been assigned to work with him and the other hunters for another raid.

Jinwoo's impression of you at first is a weird, playful but kind hunter as you accidentally bump into him. The coffee that he just bought spilled on his shirt.

Seeing this, you quickly panicked, bowing profusely, and apologizing.

Seeing that the situation was unavoidable and it was just a pure accident, Jinwoo waved it off with an awkward smile, hoping to diffuse the situation. However, that didn’t seem to work as you looked at him and the coffee he dropped, a flash of guilt on your face.

Bowing again then you quickly ran off in a different direction, Jinwoo thought that that was the end of your interaction however it wasn’t long before you returned, this time with a drink and food in hand.

Giving him the food and drink and not even waiting for him to decline, you told him it was in return for earlier.

Jinwoo, with a panicked expression, tried to decline “This is too much it's just a coffee that was spilled. You didn't have to go through all that trouble.”

With clear and bright eyes, you smiled, “This is nothing. Beside the coffee is for the coffee as for the sandwich…”

You grinned before putting a finger in front of your mouth, “It’s because I find you cute.” You winked and chuckled as Jinwoo blushed. Seeing him so flustered, you couldn't help but find him even cuter.

Thinking that’s enough teasing for the young man in front of you, you winked and smiled at him before giving a small wave and left; leaving a frazzled Jinwoo.

Staring at your disappearing figure, he couldn’t help but think for a moment of your smile. It was beautiful and sincere even though a glint of playfulness was mixed with it. It's so unlike the ones he was used to receiving when he became a weak fool of a hunter.

And for some reason because of your smile, he finally accepted your offer. The lingering hesitation he still has vanished and a warmth ignited within him.

Smiling, Jinwoo took a bite of the food and enjoyed the enriched flavour of coffee on his tongue, his mind drifting to you again.

When he had been trying to calm you down earlier, he took notice of the massive bag behind you, deducing it might be your weapon.

Unusual though never rare as he has also seen other hunters carry such weapons in size. The only thing he’s worried about is that your choice of weapon might have been too big for you as he saw how petite you were.

Later, he considered how foolish he was to have such thoughts as they entered the dungeon and were unexpectedly engulfed by a red gate.

As soon as they entered, everything was calm and controlled. The more experienced hunters were swiftly taking down charging monsters, while he did his best to defend and went after the weaker ones. Unfortunately, his caution didn't prevent him from getting injured.

As the group delved deeper into the dungeon, the atmosphere grew increasingly perilous. The mana in the air darkened, making it difficult for the hunters to breathe, and a sense of fear began to weigh on their minds. The monsters they encountered were noticeably more powerful than those they had faced earlier.

Even the strongest hunter in their group was visibly struggling to deal with the monsters, while Jinwoo could only focus on defending his life.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw you.

He couldn’t help but find it weird as he never saw you use the massive weapon on your back. Only a short sword in hand when confronting such monsters.

However, before Jinwoo could ponder more, screams echoed from all the hunters in his group and he felt like a massive weight fell on him, making him slam into the ground because of an unknown fear and bloodlust that suddenly appeared in the air.

His ears were ringing, his mind disorientated, but once Jinwoo got his bearings, he struggled to lift his head and saw that all his comrades had fallen to the ground. Some fainted, some half-conscious, coughing up blood.

That’s when Jinwoo noticed liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth. The taste of iron on his tongue. Looking down, he saw red droplets staining the ground.

He then heard a growl, a group of monsters slowly prowled at their group as they eyed them, ready to hunt and eat them for their next meal.

Jinwoo thought that things couldn’t get worse when suddenly a massive creature, a chimera, emerged. It’s the dungeon's final boss.

Dread filled Jinwoo’s being.

The thought of his sister waiting for him at home and his mother in the hospital made him tear up as he struggled to get up, to get away.

Abruptly, Jinwoo saw one of the monsters run up at him. The monster's fangs were just about to hit him when he felt a gush of air ruffled his hair. The monster that was about to kill him was now lying in front of him, cut in half.

Blood splattered on his clothes and onto his face; Jinwoo looked up. There in front of him, he saw you.

A massive scythe in hand, adorned with a crimson essence stone, almost resembling a demon eye. A long curving silver blade extends from a skeleton whose skull is wrapped in razor-sharp blades sticking out in different directions, while the rib cage connects to the red and black stem of the handle, which ends in its lower backbone.

 “Are you okay?” You ask, your eyes never leaving the monsters that started circling your group.

Jinwoo silently nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him “I am.”

“That’s good. Take cover for a moment.” You frowned, eyes without the hint of joy nor playfulness from earlier. And yet Jinwoo couldn’t help but find you alluring at that moment.

With a flick of a wrist, your scythe twisted in your hand with ease as if the massive weight was nothing and without a moment, you disappeared, only leaving dust in your wake before Jinwoo heard yelp and howls of pain echoed as you dealt with them swiftly.

Heads torn from their necks and split in half from head to groin. This was the sight Jinwoo witnessed in disbelief as you fought them with such calmness.

All of a sudden, Jinwoo saw the chimera preparing for a breath. He screamed, not caring for his life but yours, “Watch out!”

Evading at the last minute and with a solid step you rush forward, a hand lowered on your weapon's handle and this time you swing your weapon much faster and sharper, completely decapitating the boss of the dungeon, not even leaving a chance for a counterattack.

And with a loud thud, its two heads fell on the floor, cracking the ground.

Finally, as if a weight was lifted from his shoulder, Jinwoo couldn’t help but hyperventilate. All the suppressed emotions he had been holding since the moment he noticed that there was something wrong with this dungeon, came crashing down.

He clutched his chest and tried to calm down, but no matter what, he couldn’t, and beads of sweat dropped faster than the last.

Glancing at him, you turned back, kneeling before him and placing a hand on his forehead. Ignoring the sweat and blood that clung to him.

Still breathing with difficulty, you frowned before meeting your forehead with him, your eyes locking with his frantic ones.

Your voice quietly whispering, “Take it slow and match your breathing with me… that’s its. Just like that…”

Your soft and warm voice made him follow with ease. The soft caress of your hand on his cheeks calmed him down and calmed his trembling body without reserve as he basked in your soft gaze.

The sensation in his cold limb slowly came back as your warmth spread throughout his body. He was sure his ears were tinged with red now that he regained his bearing, though still disorientated.

Sensing that he had calmed down, you smiled softly.

“I’ve heard many things about you, but from what I’ve seen so far, you’re a strong person.”

No, he wasn’t. Jinwoo thought. He wasn’t strong as a hunter. He’s the lowest in his rank. If anything he was barely hanging on supporting his sister and mother. However, before he could wallow more in self-pity, you interrupted as if you heard him.

“Of course, I’m not talking in that sense.” You chuckled.

“I might not know you that well, and we have only met today, but something in you just told me you're a strong person because you're so kind."

You admitted, closing your eyes as you nuzzled into him, ruffling his already messy hair.

Since your first raid, this man immediately caught your attention. Not because of his rank or anything special but because of the kindness and strength inside him.

Learning new little details about him as you observe him every time, a fondness within you arouses.

Even though your personality changes into a confident combatant whenever you enter every mission, you don’t dare to talk to him. Shy and blushing at the mere thought of talking to him, but the incident earlier gave you the courage you needed to take the first step.

Even at this moment, you knew you were pushing it; however, with the way your path is going as a hunter. This was the only time that you might be able to confess to the man who has caught your attention so wholeheartedly.

You did have past crushes; however, they were only admiration by the end of the day and faded right away but this time, it’s different.

He’s different from everyone.

Deep inside, you realize that there wouldn’t be anyone who would be able to compare to him and that there wouldn’t be a chance for you to be with anyone because of him, however, you didn’t mind.

He captured your very being.

Opening your eyes, you softly and lovingly gaze at him causing his already flushed cheeks to turn redder and his eyes reddening.

Noticing that your breaths were intertwining together, your eyes lowered and stared at his lips. If you moved even a little, your lips would finally touch but...you knew that this wasn't right.

He wasn't yours, and you weren't his.

And so with a deep ache inside of you, you close your eyes again, chuckling and lifting your head. Jinwoo then felt your warm and soft lips on his forehead, hearing you say before his consciousness slowly faded.

“You won’t be able to remember this but I like you, Sung Jinwoo.”

And with that, everything went blank.

The next time he woke up, medics were rushing everywhere, assisting him and every hunter who were now out of the gate and regaining their consciousness.

He couldn’t help but look everywhere, looking for you in particular.

He didn’t know why, but now a part of him longed for you deeply, and with time, it seems to only intensify.  

Walking towards you with a calm façade but with trembling hands in his pocket, Jinwoo helplessly clenched them tightly, holding his sanity.

It’s only been a few years but he felt like it’s been an eternity.

As Chairman Go Gunhee introduced him to you, Jinwoo felt some blood flow from his trembling fist as his nails dug into his palm.

Jinwoo lowered his eyes as it darkened. He tried his hardest to calm down as he felt that at any moment he might just grab and attack you, his desire and longing just barely contained.

Letting out a small breathe, he then gave you a close-eyed smile, apologizing to you in his mind.

Now that he finally caught up, this time, he won’t let you go that easily like he did when he was a weak hunter.

Now that he remembers your confession, it’s only right of him to reciprocate it, right?

A/n: It was only supposed to be a short one-shot but it got longer than expected. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one-shot!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

[heartfullofleeches]

Grim Reaper Reader [in tears]: Your people are suffering. For as long as they reside behind those gates, I cannot give them the peace so many require. Your bodies are not built for immortality... Please.... Help me.

Yan (Soon to be) Murderer: So what you're saying is..... I should kill everybody in town and bring their bodies to you-

Grim Reaper Reader: That isn't what I- Where are you going?! Please, have mercy!

Yan Murderer: Haha, don't worry! I'll give them all the mercy they need- When I cut their throats! See you soon- Byeeee!

[valentine-cafe]

How would the Herrera husbands react if they found out that a trainie of their company is secretly "researches" the same thing they are.

On a lower scale per say and they didn't hurt anyone yet but... still standing knee deep in the darkweb forums and black market trade of... parts.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ verse 209 rishen & jìngyí

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍪 ꒱ spider monster x reader, mantis monster x reader, moth monster x reader, mad scientist x reader, villains x reader, yandere x reader, cw: biting and marking, blood mention ⊹ ۪ ࣪

well, they would be curious to say the least. darkly curious.

after all, while you might be “researching” the same things as them - that does not mean that you are an ally. for all they know you could be poking your nose where you shouldn’t. . .

so they’d keep an eye on you. making sure you aren’t trying to make their life difficult.

but when they see that you are indeed doing this for your own reasons. either out of morbid curiosity or. . . something far darker; they decide to approach you on it.

you’d be given an appointment. rishen making up some excuse that it was for ‘behavioural concerns’.

let’s just say that you were surprised to see both husbands in that office.

and even more unnerved when the door shut and locked.

“seems like we’ve got some. . .”

“interesting matters to discuss.”

good luck. choose your side wisely.

[almond-tofuuu]

Maybe dawnbreak! Zayne eventually finds a way to get to the world he 'dreams' about, and meets the mc. (yandere tho???)

Oooh I love this idea!!!! Thank you anon!!!

Hope you enjoy 💕

The Reaper's Embrace

Dawnbreaker! Zayne x reader

Warnings: slight yandere/possessive elements, possibly ooc Zayne/Dawnbreaker (I tried my best)

lmk if I missed anything ☺️

Something was wrong with Zayne.

When you left work to find him waiting for you outside the building, a strange sense of unfamiliarity washed over you, as though your subconscious was screaming about a danger your brain couldn't register. Which was absurd, right? Zayne wasn't a stranger, far from it.

Maybe it was the clothes he was wearing. The sleek, black suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, and the long, dark coat he wore over the top blended seamlessly into the night. He looked intimidating, almost scary, his imposing form striking an eerie resemblance to that of the grim reaper.

You shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind, "I'm being ridiculous! It's just Zayne, so what if he's dressed a little differently. I must be even more exhausted than I thought" after mentally reprimanding yourself, you make your way over to Zayne, ignoring the unsettling chill running down your spine.

"You must've gotten off work early today if you're here to pick me up! Sorry if I kept you waiting" you greet him warmly, soft smile on your face despite the increasing paranoia building inside your mind.

Zayne doesn't respond, his eyes that are usually filled with a tenderness and warmth now appear cold and lifeless, but there's a hint of something else in his gaze, something almost crazed and predatory. It makes your blood run cold, as if the ice of his evol was flooding your veins. It's as though you're in a trance, your mind is begging you to run, to get away from the man in front of you, but your body won't respond, frozen under the intensity of his gaze.

Zayne takes a careful step towards you, one hand slowly reaching out but stopping just short of touching your cheek. He hesitates, as though he's afraid to actually touch you. And he is. He's afraid that this is just another dream, a cruel trick his mind is playing, and the moment he touches you, you'll disappear, slipping through his fingers like the early morning mist.

Zayne has dreamt of this moment for so long, thoughts of you haunting him, consuming every fibre of his being until the only thing he could think about was you, you, you. For years he had been forced to watch you through the eyes of the doctor, taunted by the other version of himself that got to hold you.

But not anymore. Now that he had finally found his way to you, he wasn't going to let you go. The doctor could never love you the way he did. You were a ray of sunlight that broke through the darkness that shrouded his life. You were his saviour, his guiding light, you were his.

As Zayne's hand hovers inches from your cheek, you feel a shiver run down your spine, a primal instinct urging you to flee. But you're rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense, icy eyes. With a trembling breath, you brace yourself for his touch, unsure of what to expect.

Finally, his fingertips brush against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. His touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender, but beneath the surface, there's a palpable intensity that sets your nerves on edge. For a moment, the world falls away, and all you can focus on is the sensation of his touch, the way it sends a rush of conflicting emotions swirling through your mind. Fear, desire, uncertainty—they all mingle together in a chaotic symphony that threatens to overwhelm you.

And Zayne feels it too. The warmth of your skin underneath his cold, calloused fingertips is enough to cloud his mind with desire, all thoughts of logic and reason are forgotten as his eyes darken. The tender hold he had on your cheek turns into a bruising grip of your jaw, his other hand encircling your waist, pressing your body tightly against his, strong arm preventing you from escaping. Lowering his face beside your head, 'Zayne' finally speaks, warm breath fanning over your cheek. And although the smooth, deep voice is familiar to you, the darkness of his tone has your body trembling in fear.

"I've waited for this moment for so long. Finally, you're mine. And now that I've got you, I'm never going to let you go."

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 4 - Nightmares Too

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“You wanna get out from under there?”

What sort of question is that? Of course, you don’t. You’re going to live here now. You’re never leaving this tiny, cramped space till you rot away and die. The stained underside of some IKEA desk was your new home.

Well, since your actual home was seeming less and less like an option. Which kinda sucks, because you’re feeling surprisingly possessive of your stuff. You don’t want fancy dresses or bubbly champagne, you want your ratty couch and the neighbour’s cat that liked to visit in the middle of the night. Your mother was right, you were the type of person to never be happy no matter what. You could appreciate the food, though.

Shaking, trembling, knees clutched to your chest, you look up. Slowly, because you’ll probably piss yourself if you don’t.

Now that you weren’t holding his hand, the vigilante known as Red Hood was much, much scarier. He was sitting on the carpeted floor with you, but he still somehow looked incredibly menacing. You preferred his old look, honestly. The helmet had less ‘grim reaper’ vibes. The hood and metal face mask made him seem like a cyborg assassin, or something equally terrifying. He was terrifying.

Still, you could appreciate the insane sort of hilarity of this situation. The notorious crime fighter and crime committer was sitting here with you, crossed legs, twiddling his thumbs away. You press your face into your hands, laugh, and then scream. The sound is muffled, but he probably still hears the exciting new phase of your breakdown.

“Don’t…” your voice cuts off, you have to think before you can manage to speak again, “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

His giant shoulders shrug.

“I’ve got time.”

Did he? You don’t know how long you’d been up here, how long you’d been sitting here either. You’d fallen asleep, despite your desperate fight not to, so it could be anywhere between 10 to the next day. Had you missed midnight? God, you hoped not.

That stupid little ritual is what convinces you to leave. Not common sense, not the Hood, not your desperate desire to get home and sleep. No, it’s the image of your mother’s tired smile, the city in the background as you wish her another happy birthday after a long day of work. It’s a memory you’re not willing to give up, even if you technically already made your wish.

You’d lived this awful day twice. You got to blow out your candles twice, too.

Slowly, surely, you climb out from under the desk. Red Hood is quiet, careful. He doesn’t move apart from a subtle shift in his hood, suggesting he’s watching you. He’s acting like you’re a wild animal or something, like he might scare you off, or might prompt you to attack.

If he tries anything, you will. It doesn’t matter that he could snap your neck like a twig. Maybe he’s right to act that way, you’re feeling pretty feral right now. Half giving him your back, you turn the monitor for the computer on. It’s Wayne property, so you think you technically have some right to it. It’s not like you’re going to hack it or anything, you just need it to-

11:48.

“Thank god,” you sigh, relieved. Still, you’re not out of the woods yet. You needed at least a lighter, hopefully, a candle and a desert of some kind too. There were lots of cakes downstairs, if you felt you could do it. Big ‘if’ there. The mental breakdown was still well underway. And not everyone could dodge a punch like Red Hood could. Knowing you, you’d probably get sued for millions if you accidentally snapped at some poor rando.

Let’s start small. You wrench open the office’s drawer and start rooting around. You find lots of things, a Wayne Enterprises-themed stress toy, a kid’s drawing of them and their parent holding hands, and a surprising amount of hand cream, but no lighter. You slam the drawer closed and move to the next one.

“Hey, what are you doing?” his voice rumbles out, and your head snaps around.

You look down. Right. This is probably illegal. You were rooting through someone else’s private property. Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, but it was definitely the first time you’d done it in plain view of a vigilante.

Crap. You hadn’t thought. That was your entire night, summarised.

“Uh, this is… Do you have a lighter?” you ask, wincing. You don’t really like the mask he’s wearing. Apart from being so intimidating, you’re shaking like a wet chihuahua, it’s also impossible to tell what he’s thinking through it. The domino mask, the metal face mask and the voice changer completely hid any emotion. Full coverage and all.

The helmet probably would’ve made that even harder. You’d still prefer it. This guy's creepy.

“You smoke?” he responds, slowly but surely getting to his feet. You back up quickly, pressing yourself to the wall of the cubicle. Red Hood pauses and then moves even slower. He’s careful not to frighten you any more than already.

This was all really strange. One of the strangest things that had ever happened to you. And you might’ve woken up this morning in an alternate dimension. Or something, you had zero clue what was going on. God, you really wished you’d paid more attention in science class. You’d thought Mr Gregory was crazy, but he’d gotten the last laugh.

“I don’t,” you clench your sweaty fists tight, “Maybe I should.”

“Don’t get started, it’s impossible to stop,” Red Hood says, digging into his pocket for something. You freeze, but relax again when he hands you a scuffed metal lighter.

Holding it close to your chest, you whisper a thank you to him. He nods his head in acknowledgement.

This was really weird. You couldn’t say it enough.

“I hate you,” you state because you sort of have to. Even when he’s being nice to you, helping you. It’s an obligation. You have to make sure that despite the show of good faith he was offering, you were certainly feeling no such thing.

“I figured,” he replies, which like- What the fuck? Does this make absolutely zero sense to anybody else? You’re not sure what about your panic-stricken tears and desperate hand-holding made you seem hateful, but you could work with it.

Maybe all the feelings you push down are starting to show. You ignore how worried that makes you because you’ve had enough for today. Today was more than e-fucking-nough.

You were going to find a cake and a candle, and you were going to make your wish. Again, because life sucks. You were going to finish this horrible day again because life sucks. And hopefully, you’d wake up tomorrow… tomorrow, not today.

You weren’t sure if you would. Life sucks, right?

You look the Red Hood in his creepy glowing red eyes and say, “I think I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

There’s quiet between you two for a moment. You think he’s staring at you, trying to figure you out. He knows you hate him, but you’re… well, you’re too tired to be angry right now. You just want to go to sleep. You just want this damn day to end. Tomorrow you’d go back to hating all the vigilantes of Gotham with a fiery passion, but today…

Well, you wouldn’t call it peaceful, whatever this situation is. Maybe it’s understanding. He seems understanding, for some reason. You don’t really want to think about that.

You just wanted to hate him. It was easier that way. Then you didn’t have to hate yourself so much.

“I’m going to go find some cake and a candle. It’s my birthday and I haven’t made a wish.”

Red Hood nods, “I could eat.”

That wasn’t an invitation, but whatever. Guess you’re blowing out your candles for your twenty-first with… this guy. Better than yesterday, which was with nobody but yourself and your trashy TV. Or, well, the first today.

You really think you are losing your mind. Whatever, whatever, let’s worry about it later.

After one of the most awkward and uncomfortable elevator rides of your life, squished into a corner as Red Hood took up the lion’s share of space, you find yourself back on the first floor. It’s chaos. The gorgeously decorated gala is now in rubble, and people are rushing around with the sort of fear you’d expect after the fucking Joker showed up.

He wasn’t here, which was good. It was important to focus on the good.

First responders flit around the space, checking the people who seem worse for wear and the rich bastards who think they’re more important than the service workers who are cut or bruised. All the food tables have been knocked over, the waste of it making you upset. Of course the Joker wastes food, he’s gotta be the evilest man on earth or something. It’s not just the interior that’s been destroyed, either. The giant gothic windows have been shattered inward, and broken glass covers the entire floor space. Red and blue lights flash through the gaping holes, bits of glass still attached to the stone sending it cascading across the walls.

You look down. You’re missing your shoes.

“You can’t walk on that,” Big Red says, which like, duh.

“I know that,” you mutter, looking around for another way. Ah, good, there’s a staff entrance over there, which you think probably leads to the kitchen-

“I could carry you.”

You give him a disturbed look and he shrugs. Pointing to the ‘staff only’ door, you wish you had the strength to tell the guy to fuck off. He feels like a babysitter or something.

“I’m going in there.” ‘Please don’t follow me.’

He follows you, because of course, he does.

Lucky for you, the staff entrance leads straight to the kitchen. Even luckier, there’s absolutely nobody here to witness you lose your mind. There are also lots of dishes waiting to be served, already plated and perfect. This is a professional kitchen, but it was your birthday so you have to assume they’d have had candles or a cake prepared.

You walk through the giant kitchen, and Red Hood hangs back. He leans against the doorway, crossing his tree-tunk-esque arms and glowering. Nowhere can do a scary hero like Gotham can. He was really messing with your vibe, which wasn’t all that great in the first place.

Your eyes rove over the platters, head snapping back when you spot a tiny set of confectionaries at the back. Cupcakes, three in total. They don’t match the rest of the other high-quality foods, but you know they’re the ones you want anyway. You hope this didn’t belong to someone else, and promise to pay them back… somehow. You’d write a note or something, leave your number behind.

You were rich now. You’d have preferred the lottery instead of all this. What’s the saying, ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’ You’d certainly been begging.

It’s a struggle to reach the back of the counter without knocking any of the other food. You grab the plate, lift it up and over, and then set it back down on an empty stretch of countertop.

You look over the three cupcakes, trying to pick one. There’s one that’s a dark raspberry pink. A pink that’s a little too dark, actually. Almost… reddish. You glance over your shoulder at the devil lurking behind you, wince, and decide you’re going for the blue cupcake. You think this might’ve also been one of Sam’s favourite colours. It would’ve been at some point, at least.

Now, candles. This might be the hard part, but it’s the most important one. Again you start rooting through some stranger’s property, and Red Hood just watches silently. It’s weird. This whole situation is weird. You’re tired and confused and you’re half convinced you’re dreaming it all, but… but you’re definitely starting to think this might be real.

And that’s fucking scary. So, back to candle hunting. They had to have some, it was your birthday. Maybe, you were pretty sure. Somehow the worst day of the year had happened twice because God knows you had some shit luck. You’d really like some solid answers, instead of just ‘maybe!’. And for some reason, you really didn’t think you’d be getting them anytime soon.

Ah, shoot. You found your candle. It’s one of those giant ‘Happy Birthday’ cake toppers, all loopy and connected words. Your cupcake is way too small, and your candle is way too big. Well, you’re nothing if not resourceful. When you bend the candle, the wax snaps easily under your grip. You’re left with a capital ‘H’ and under that the ‘B’ and little ‘i’ and ‘r’ from the beginning of birthday. Good enough, you suppose.

You stick the crumbly, glittery monstrosity on top of the stolen cupcake, and swipe the lighter again. The letters sag to the side, and you nudge them back into balance.

You glance down at the ovens, reading the bright neon numbers. 11:57.

You wait, flicking the lighter open and closed. The metallic click, the rhythm of the movement, it settles you a bit.

“Why are you waiting?” Red Hood pipes up, breaking that comfortable silence. At least he doesn’t come any closer, still lingering half in the room, half not.

“It has to be midnight,” you answer, wishing him away. This is your thing. You didn’t want anybody here for it, didn’t want anybody else’s presence tainting this piece of your mother’s memory. You were greedy for it, not eager to share.

You were sharing today. There’s a part of you that wants to scream and rant at the man who for some unknown reason simply will not leave, but you imagine your mother’s frowning face, and you can’t do it. She’s the angel on your shoulder (nagging, nagging, nagging) compared to your usual devil-inclined self. She was always insisting you needed to be a better host, be nicer to people. Maybe make more friends. And after she’d gone, you’d tried, you really, really had.

But Red Hood was an altogether different matter. Everything they were, everything they represented, was an altogether different matter.

You were obsessed with the Waynes. And in a different, more bitter, spiteful, malicious way, you were obsessed with the Bats, too.

You weren’t going to be friends with Red Hood. You hated him, despised him. Mum always said you needed to get better at forgiving people. You disagreed, but just… maybe just for today, you wouldn’t make him leave.

You could glare at him, though. You felt that was fair enough. He ignores your narrowed eyes like a seasoned professional. Bet he’s had a lot of people hate him. Bet he deserves it.

“It’s 11:59,” he tells you, and you stop glaring at him to light the candle.

The light is weak, barely able to touch you. Still, it’s strong enough to get rid of those tiny glimpses of red and blue police lights, to keep away the darkness for just long enough. You sigh into the light, absorbing it into yourself. You’d always thought the world was too dark, and you hated winter when you’d lose the sun. So like you had to hate the dark, you had to love this light. This tiny little candle, burning away.

“What’re you gonna wish for?”

You stare at the flickering flame. It twitches back and forth. Casts light into the kitchen. Mesmerises you. It’s barely alive, and you’re about to put it out before it can even start. It could’ve been some great fire, some city-destroying blaze. And you’re going to kill it. Kill it before it can kill you, can kill everyone here. Kill it before it could have ever hoped to live, to thrive.

Just a baby. Just a little, little baby.

It doesn’t deserve it. That never seems to matter. It never mattered before.

“The Joker to die.”

You exhale, blowing the light out and sending the kitchen into darkness. When you manage to find the light switch and turn it on, the room is empty. It’s just you, your cake, and your tears. Your hands clench, and then you realise you’re still holding it.

You still have the Red Hood’s lighter. He left without it.

Well, finder’s keepers, right?

-

You’re shaking in the back of the ambulance, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders not enough to keep out the Gotham night’s chill. You don’t really remember how you got here, to be honest. Everything’s pretty goddamn blurry. You were talking to a vigilante, a red one. Not down here, staring up at the Wayne Tower. You remember his face in the shifting candlelight. Did you blow out your candles with him? That was a fucking crazy thought.

And now the Bruce Wayne has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember when he arrived. He’s talking with the paramedic, chatting over the top of your head. There words are going in one ear and out the other, it’s alien for as much as you can understand. You want to shake his hand off, you don’t want anyone touching you right now. Especially not a stranger.

Even if it was a guy you had owned a fan Twitter for. Those were the darkest days of your past. Even more so than the time you’d totally thought about jumping in front of the Gotham subway. You’d only not done it because you’d have felt bad for wasting other commuters' time. What were you doing? Ah, right.

In the end, you don’t shove him off, because you don’t know if you can move other than blink. Even that’s against your will. Your eyelashes are fluttering randomly, eyes flicking around the interior of the ambulance. You’re barely conscious. And you doubt you’ll remember any of this later, either. You can feel the memories slipping away, the drain at the back of your mind sucking up the fear and bad thoughts and leaving you blank and empty. Numb, safe, but numb.

The paramedic’s mouth moves. You don’t think she’s talking to you, which is good. You can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. She does some final checks, and then she’s off to the next person.

The two of you are left to silence, to watch the rest of the world in its chaos. You feel like there’s a barrier, a pane of glass, between you and the other people here. Like your TV screen, really. The paramedic goes to a woman and her son. The woman seems fine, but the son has a long gash on his arm. She’s screaming, he’s crying, and the paramedic is handling it all with calm professionalism. You wanted to start screaming too.

You glance at a man in a suit yelling at another first responder, spittle flying into the air with his rage. You think he’s one of the ones you saw earlier in the ballroom. His suit is still perfect, and he doesn’t have a speck of blood on him. Even his hair is still perfectly brushed and coiled.

You looked like a drowned rat in comparison.

“…Are you alright?” The question breaks the silence, and you slowly turn to look up at Bruce.

Well, that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. You thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be brilliant. Maybe he’s just feeling bad because of the new trauma he’s gifted you tonight? It wasn’t his fault. As most of your mental health issues stemmed from, it was the Joker’s fault.

“No,” you answer, and he nods stiffly. Great chat.

He huffs out a sound of frustration, lifting the hand on your shoulder. Immediately, some of the tension in you seeps out. You hope he doesn’t notice. You think he probably does.

Someone calls out your name. Your head turns to the crowd. They call out your name again, this time closer, and you call back. You’re sort of surprised when a crying Jeanine pushes out of the throng of people. She’s a mess, her hair out of her pristine bun, her suit missing its jacket, and her glasses cracked. Seems she didn’t have a very nice time either.

You look down. She’s also missing her shoes. It’d be kind of gross, walking around on Gotham’s streets barefoot, if you could manage to give a shit. You’re still restarting, however, and all energy is going towards not crying again. You’re failing. Awfully bad, at that.

Whatever. Gotta try.

Panting, Jeanine places her hands on her knees, “I’m so, so sorry.”

It takes a moment for you to load the words through your Windows XP brain, but when you do, you’re more confused than you were a second ago.

“What? Why are you sorry?” you say, for a second imagining Jeanine as one of the people that attacked you.

“Because you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t… hadn’t forced you to come…” Jeanine’s voice trails off, a look of horror on her face. Ah, she’s noticed Bruce. Apparently, she’s quite afraid of the man. You feel a sense of camaraderie towards the woman. God knows how many times you’d worn the exact same expression talking to one of your own bosses.

And then, well, then you usually got fired. It’s not looking good for her.

“Mister Wayne! I didn’t see you there, apologies!” she says, straightening her shoulders.

“Jeanine, it’s good to see you. Are you well, have you checked with the paramedics yet?”

“I have, Sir. Thank you for worrying about me,” Jeanine answers, with a healthy dose of hero-worship in her voice. You can’t judge, you’d be staring all starry-eyed at Bruce if you weren’t falling asleep where you sat. Apparently, traumatic experiences make you sleep. Who would’ve thought?

Like you hadn’t experienced this scenario a thousand times before. First time with fucking Bruce Wayne standing right next to you, though.

“Of course, I would. You’re one of my people,” he says, giving her a warm smile. Jeanine physically sags with relief at his words, because it sounds like she’s probably not getting fired tonight.

Bruce gets a notification on his phone, hums, and then slides it back into his pant pocket.

“Jeanine, we’re going back together to the manor tonight,” Bruce continues. Also, you were? Nobody mentioned that to you, and certainly nobody asked you about it. Well, fuck what you want, right? Who cares if you desperately want your cramped apartment in the Narrows, you’re getting shipped off to the fucking Wayne Manor of all places.

You just go along with it. Just go along with it. Wayne Manor probably has lots of nice, plush beds, and you’d kill for a pillow and some ambient rain sounds right now.

Bruce looks off to the side, where Tim is on the phone. They make eye contact, Bruce nods, and then turns back to the two of you.

“I’ll be right back. You two stay here, do not go anywhere,” he commands, king of the castle.

There’s quiet between the two of you. Jeanine squirms under your gaze, obviously guilty. You think back over her words, and then you groan.

“Jeanine. Jeanine, did I not have to go to this fucking party?”

Jeanine is quiet. She’s too fucking quiet.

“Jeanine?” your voice is shaky, and you have to bite the inside of your lip to force yourself not to tear up again. It was getting kind of embarrassing, honestly. You did not cry this much. Usually. This was not a usual day, of course. You’d been Ground Hog Day-ed into another reality… you think.

“No, Ma’am, you didn’t need to go. You’re… you used to be a Wayne, and even if you’ve parted from the name, you still have the power that comes with that. You did not have to come tonight,” she says, sounding remorseful and afraid. And maybe she should be.

If you had as much power as she said, you could probably fire her. You press your hands into your face.

“I thought you said you’d quit if I didn’t go,” you grind out, digging your fingers into your eyes, clawing into your already ruined makeup.

“I was lying, Ma’am. As I always do. I’m sorry,” she apologises. None of this makes any sense, and neither does she. Why would she lie? Why is this normal? What is the new normal, and how are you supposed to hide if you don’t know how to blend in?

You realise that you’re falling into old habits instinctively. That maybe you should say something about all this, or at least that you have some weird form of amnesia. You don’t, though. You’re scared, you’re far too scared.

“Well how- I thought you were serious this time!” you cry out, stuttering over your own lies, flinging your hands from your face. Jeanine winces at you. It’s probably the dried mascara running down your face in black rivulets, making you look like an odd mix between a raccoon and a banshee.

You’d seen your reflection in the ambulance’s side mirror. It had almost been as scary as the Joker’s goons. Almost.

“…Please, please don’t fire me,” she begs, her hands clasped tight in front of her.

You realise you probably should for an admittance like that. This was too complicated, this woman and her non-existent relationship with you was far too complicated. You also realise that whoever ran this stupid body before was very used to Jeanine’s baseless threats, and it wouldn’t be at all fair to her. And she seems quite desperate for this job. Which really doesn’t make much sense, because she seems quite important, and she’s working for you, someone else who seems quite important.

God if you fucking knew. You were quickly discovering you didn’t know shit.

“I won’t, just… just don’t say anything about this to anyone, okay? I’m…” you sigh, uncertain what to do, what to say, “I’m having a hard time.”

“Thank you, thank you so, so, so much. I’ll pay you back, I won’t do it again, I’ll do whatever you ask me to-”

“That’s enough, please. I just… I’d like some quiet,” you cut her off, closing your eyes and shuffling back in the ambulance. You cut yourself off from the rest of the world, hide your head behind your knees, and try to ignore the flashing lights and yelling voices. The ambulance shifts weight slightly as Jeanine sits beside you. She’s not too close to feel uncomfortable, just toeing the line.

Bruce comes back, looking over the two of you. He seems sombre, but you’re not sure why. Is it the entire night? Did something bad happen again? Is it just how miserable the two of you look? You don’t care enough to ask.

You just don’t care.

You tune out of their conversation again, even knowing it might be important. When Jeanine leaves, and Bruce invites you to a black car, you follow silently. He opens the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, you follow him in.

He knocks on the panel separating the two of you from whoever’s driving the car, and like a well-oiled machine, the car pulls out of the traffic and the paparazzi and out onto the street. Must be nice. You bet Jeanine is going to have to walk home.

Ah, wait, you’re one of them now. You’re one of those ‘must be nice’ types. Weird. You kept forgetting, somehow. Even with Gotham’s prince sitting next to you. Weird.

“I want you to stay at the manor for the night,” Bruce says, and you nod, barely listening. You’re barely conscious, far too tired to understand the implications of the words he was saying. If there were any, like you said, you couldn’t tell.

You’re watching the city go by, the light streaming past in a blur of colours. You rest your head in your hand, your elbow on the armrest. Even with you pressing your face to the glass, you can’t see the sky. The buildings stretch too high. And even if you could, it wasn’t like you’d see anything aside from some late-night flights. The Gotham light pollution and the smoke-filled sky would see to that.

Bruce doesn’t say anything else after that. You’re grateful for the quiet.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and maybe in some act of self-harm, try to remember what happened tonight. Try to pick through your thoughts, and understand whatever happened. That man… that horrible man. He disappeared into thin air. Gone, just gone.

And your world had changed. You’d gotten richer, more powerful. And yet, and yet… you knew this feeling. You knew this weakness. You knew what it meant when you looked in the mirror and you saw something barely alive.

You knew what grief looked like.

You want to rip out your own hair and chew off your own skin. It didn’t make any sense, and you felt crazier and crazier by the second. And none of it made sense, and yet, you had the worst feeling. An omen, a dark cloud. Something worse than the Joker, something that made even less sense.

Even in this life, were you alone? That wasn’t fair. That didn’t make any sense. That didn’t make any sense at all.

Your voice is quiet in the car. Her voice is quiet in the car.

“Do you know where my Mum is?” a little girl asks the big, strong man, her tiny body dwarfed by the black leather of the car. She’s out of place, out of time. She doesn’t fit here.

She doesn’t think she ever has.

The big, strong man, the hero, stays silent, his face hidden by the darkness. The little girl sobs, cries, wails. She wants her mum back. She wants her family back. And now, she wants her life back.

All have been stolen from her.

Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were dead. Maybe this was another world, and both you and her now have to navigate another lonely place. At least you’d do it together, hand in hand.

It didn’t matter. You knew where you needed to be.

“I want to see it.”

You need to see it. You grasp desperately at Bruce’s arm, nails digging into his expensive and ruined suit. Begging him, pleading him.

He says something. You think it’s a ‘what?’

“I want to see their graves. I want to see my mother’s grave.”

Bruce’s face darkens, and you’re too tired, too exhausted to tell what emotion flits across it. You wonder if it’s the same desperation you feel. But it confirms it. They’re dead. They’re still dead. Despite everything, despite the entire world changing for you, the most important part had been forgotten.

They were still dead. And you were still here. Alone.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, but for tonight, you need to rest,” he promises you, and your hand releases. You watch your palm hang limply in your lap, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like your hand. Bruce starts speaking again, this apologetic, pitying tone. You can’t stand it. You can’t stand it one bit.

And in the rudest, most cowardly thing you’ve ever done, you cover your ears like a child.

The rest of the car ride passes in a blur of colour and sound. You’re in Gotham, driving away from the Tower, you’re at the edges of town, passing over one of the bridges, you’re driving through New Jersey’s countryside, passing green fields and old buildings. You go by the iron-wrought gates of Wayne Manor, up the alley’s winding entryway, and finally, the car rolls to a stop in front of the stairs.

To Mr. Wayne’s credit, he doesn’t open the fucking door for you again. You get to stumble your way out on your own two stubborn legs, swaying drunkenly, sickly. He waits for you at the stairs, and you ignore the arm he offers you. He’s just as blindingly irritating as his son.

Didn’t you like these people? You would again in the morning, you just needed your hate. It was the only thing keeping you going at this point. Pure rage was fueling you as you climbed those steps. You’re panting, but you don’t really know why. They’re not that tall.

You feel weak. You feel so, so weak. And you hate it. You’d worked so hard to be free of it, even when you longed for it like a toxic ex-lover, you’d pushed it away. And now it had it’s fangs wrapped around you again, and again, you’d have to climb out of hell.

Today, it was more literal. Tomorrow? God fucking knows. People were literally vanishing from thin air, Pete’s sake. You’ll try, of course. But god fucking knows.

A butler opens the door, and Bruce enters. Once you follow in, the butler closes the door behind him. This time, you really do try to hear what they say. It’s impossible. You concentrate, but all you get for your hard work is a headache. Tomorrow, you’ll try again tomorrow.

The butler rushes off, something important and butler-y to be done. You really didn’t know what butlers did. You couldn’t imagine what their jobs were other than cleaning and cooking. Accounting? Did butlers do accounting?

“I need to handle some things. Will you be able to find your old room alright?” Bruce asks, interrupting your increasingly inane thoughts.

You blink, at him stupidly. Because you were stupid. You had a brand to keep.

“Yes,” you lie. You don’t really know why you do. Some odd mix of self-protective instincts, exhaustion-induced delirium, and also a deep desire to be alone. You really, really wanted to be fucking alone.

“Goodnight then,” Bruce says, he pauses like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He’s done that twice now, you think. Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re worth the effort. He’d be right.

You watch his back as he strides off into the darkness of the manor, leaving you shivering in the empty foyer. Your expensive ballgown is tattered, grimy, and worst of all, bloody. You want to get out of it. And then you want to sleep.

The click of his dress shoes fades, and you’re left wondering what the fuck you’re going to do next. Could you just start storming into random empty rooms? Where would you find any clothes? You were not going to sleep in this dress, no way.

So, you start up the grand staircase and start storming into random empty rooms. You find studies, bathrooms, and bedrooms. None that seem like anyone lives in them, of course. They feel like fancy hotel stays, the type you see online and sigh about.

The house, no, the manor, is quiet. Empty. It feels haunted, honestly. It probably was, a building this old and important. And it wasn’t like you didn’t know about Martha and Thomas Wayne. You didn’t think any Gotham native didn’t know about them, about the tragedy that had struck them.

It made Bruce seem like someone real, someone like you. Because if even the billionaires could get shot in alleys in Gotham City, it made more sense when the poor folks died. Like you were all human like God didn’t play favourites.

But, let’s be honest, you’d prefer to be an orphan in a mansion than the Narrows. Bruce Wayne had time to heal after what happened to him, for you it was from the frying pan to the fire.

The orphanage you’d been in for two years before you’d turned eighteen and been kicked out had had a very strict hierarchy. Probably still did, you never went back to check. It was technically a foster home, but the ancient sign beside the front door spoke differently. ‘Gotham Orphanage - Founded by Alan Wayne 1878’, the mark of the Waynes even found there. You used to touch the sign every time you went past it like it was some odd good luck charm. You still owe that sign your first successful job interview. Like you didn’t touch the copper plate every damn day, including every day you’d failed another interview.

And, well, it was Gotham. It wasn’t a good place. It had long been cemented in your mind that those theories that Gotham was cursed were true. That there wasn’t any other explanation.

You pause in your musings when you find a room that actually looks like it might be lived in. A long time ago, you think, from the dust covering the shelves. When you check the closet, you find men’s clothes, also untouched. You hope whoever lives here doesn’t care if you steal their shit, because you certainly don’t. Oh wow, this bathroom is gorgeous. The tub is gigantic, easily able to fit a group of at least six, maybe more. Still, you want to go to sleep more than you want a nice soak, so you go for a quick shower where you get rid of all… all the blood.

You watch the red run down the drain and are brought back to much simpler times.

Even as one of the older kids, you were still new blood. You hadn’t made any friends when you tried to defend the younger, weaker kids, either. The foster ‘parents’ who didn’t let you call them anything other than Mrs and Mr Hemming didn’t care about any abuse that happened under the house, as long as it wasn’t visible. You’d done this ritual before, but it actually had been your blood. It hadn’t hurt as much as this did, for some unknowable reason.

You weren’t a fighter. The very few punches you did take, you never hit back. Not like you had tonight. You’d been terrified the Hemmings would kick you out, stop feeding you. Still, you never moved, either. Never let the others take their anger out on the younger kids. You couldn’t do it. And now, looking back on it, your fear of the Hemmings retaliating was stupid. They’d needed the funds the foster caring gave them, and they were always trying to take in more and more kids.

They were empty threats. You were a terrified child. The what-ifs didn’t really matter anymore.

And maybe you were a bleeding heart type, like the other kids had said. Maybe you were gullible, naive, and a pushover. Like you hadn’t been through all the bullshit everyone else had. Like you being nice and hopeful and all those things that got you picked on weren’t all deliberate choices. One day, all the anger and rage you had would bubble over. It would destroy you and your life in a catastrophe, not unlike the one that took your family.

You’d already pushed it down so many times. Waking up today, in a different, unfamiliar world, had probably just made it worse. As always, you ignore it. It’s not worth worrying about.

Getting out of the shower, you do a very lazy towel off and then grab that mystery man’s clothes. They’re mostly dress suits, but you find a few old T-shirts. It hangs off you like a curtain, but it’s warm and it smells nice. Minty and earthy and… oddly free. Bouncy, alive, but still calming and relaxing. It’s a nice counter to the corpse vibes you’re rocking right now, which is decidedly un-alive and un-calm.

You wonder what it would’ve been like to mourn in safety. Where you didn’t have to worry if someone would steal your portion of food or the few funds you could hide in the garden. Where the glares of others didn’t constantly dig into your skin, reminding you that you weren’t wanted there. That you never would be.

That was alright. The place had stunk of mould and rat shit anyway. And maybe you had in this life. It didn't look like you were doing much better, anyway. No, this version of you somehow looked worse. You didn't know how it was possible, and then you remind yourself that none of this is possible, and you really ought to let go of that word.

Still, you lived in Gotham. You would always live in Gotham. You couldn’t leave, it was your home. It was a part of you, like every other sorry idiot who still lived here. School shootings, bomb threats, the city’s regular ol’ disasters. Even if you had been put in a good foster home, even if you had lived... here, you doubted your life would’ve been that much better. Of course, you were still bitter about it. Couldn’t the world just take a little bit off your plate? Maybe it was now, maybe this was the universe's way of saying sorry. A fancy, but empty house, with a still dead family. Maybe you were a little too greedy, a little too jealous.

You slide the duvet covers to the side, untucking them just like you do whenever you do stay in a crappy motel. When all the sides are thoroughly untucked, you slide underneath the covers. When your face lands on the pillow, you sigh in relief. Despite all the bullshit you’d suffered tonight, you had silk pillows, and this phone had youtube premium, so you could listen to rain sounds on it.

Safe. Sort of. Happy. Sort of. Alive. Sort of.

You told yourself it could be worse. And it could’ve been, so you kept on. Today, even after the night you’d had, you tell yourself it could be worse, again. At least the goon didn’t capture you, at least you didn’t actually see the Joker, at least you had a safe bed for the night, at least…

At least the Batman didn’t rescue you. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help but think it.

You hated him almost as much as the Joker, which was saying something since you regularly daydreamed about ripping that man limb from limb. Because the Bat refused to do anything about the supervillain, to finally put the mad dog down, you would always hate him. There wasn’t any other option. You sort of hated his entire entourage. Even Red Hood a bit, since even if they constantly fought, it was obvious both of them held back when dealing with each other. Still, you hated Red Hood and Robin a little less, after tonight. You kind of owed it to them.

You didn’t want to. You wanted to hate them and keep hating them till you died. It was one of your little things, the little things you couldn’t let go of. The little things that hinted at your less-than-perfect sanity. You felt that if you ever forgot what they’d done, what they kept doing every day, that you’d be disrespecting your family, forgetting some part of them. Some part of their memory, which you greedily hoarded away. Not a single precious recollection was to be lost, not ever.

You weren’t allowed to move on. Weren’t supposed to. Sometimes the many little rules you’d made for yourself felt like they were going to eat you alive. A swarm devouring its master. Swallowing you down bit by bit. Up and up, eating all the parts of you pushed down.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you, closing your eyes tight. Like if you tuck your feet inside the duvet, the monsters can’t get you. Your monsters can’t get you. Sometimes it felt like they were already feasting, and you just refused to feel it.

But only sometimes, right?

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