#fem!yan

[sweetheartmotives]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Yandere Magical Girl ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Desc and possible Cw: Yandere themes, bone breaking, Ripping off someone's head and putting it on a pole, obsession, and mentions of murder towards a date of yours.

Let me know if I missed any!

(Lucky Star Opening)

It was a normal Monday afternoon, you were on your way to class. You attend a rather fancy college, whether you're rich and got in that way or you got in for good grades.. It doesn't really matter at the end of the day. She's dotted on you and you can't do anything about it.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… became your friend by "accidentally" forgetting her pencil.

Tap tap! "Excuse me.. could I borrow a pencil?" She asks

• Yandere Magical Girl who… slowly but surely made her way into your life. Going from a simple acquaintance to a best friend.

"It's funny to think about sometimes, 2 months ago we were just two girls who sat next to each other. Now we're best friends!" Yumako chuckles. You were having lunch together, in the school courtyard.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… roots herself into your life, permanently. She's always around, and it's to the point where it feels strange whenever she's not by your side.

"Sorry! I was sick yesterday, it must've been miserable here without me!" Yumako jokes while grinning "Seriously though, let's eat together during lunch!" She smiles

• Yandere Magical Girl who… enjoys spending as much time with you as possible. Studying? Count her in! Even if it's boring, if she's by your side, she doesn't care.

"Oh? Studying? Let's do it together!" Yumako smiles

• Yandere Magical Girl who… secretly fights in the nighttime. During the daytime, she's your best friend who's always by you! During the nighttime, she's wearing a cutesy outfit you'd see in animes, specifically a magical girl anime.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… has a new purpose to fight. She doesn't fight for the purpose of saving the world anymore, she's fighting for the purpose of you and her having a world to live on so you both can get married and grow old together.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… likes to drive away your dates. She'll be touchy-feely and come with you to dates, therefore making your date uncomfortable. You're hers, she's fighting for YOU, You are her everything.

"A date??" Yumako gasps dramatically "With who? Where? When? Why? How?" She's asking so many questions "Let me come with! It'll be fun, I don't mind third-wheeling!" She smiles... it's a lie though. She hates third-wheeling. But it's okay, in the end, your date will be so uncomfortable that they'll leave and ghost you!

• Yandere Magical Girl who… would kill your dates. Oh, they tried getting you to do something you are uncomfortable with? Bone breaking time!! Skull crushing!! Meat grinder!!

"That's terrible (reader).. I'm so sorry they did that. Its okay, you'll probably never see them again!" Yumako says knowing damn well she killed your date the night before

• Yandere Magical Girl who… fights monsters and other evil entities all the time.. yet, if you were ever threatened or found out by one of her enemies, she would personally brutally murder her enemy. She will hang their head on top of a very tall pole.

"How do you know about (reader)? That's funny.. GOODNIGHT" The enemy's head is found severed from their body and stuck onto a pole.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… sounds like Mitsuri Kanroji! She's very soft spoken and sweet.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… brings you gifts all the time! Sweets, trinkets, plushes, etc.

"Here, I got this for you!" Yumako hands you a Kirby plushie "It got it since it was cute and sweet, just like you!"

• Yandere Magical Girl who… after a few weeks of thinking and planning.. decides to pull the ultimate move of all time. Even if you reject her..

• Yandere Magical Girl who… finally confesses.

"I love you (reader).. I always have. The love I hold for you is like no other! My love is pure and sweet, not lust-driven and deprived. (Reader) please accept me as your one and only, for all of time."

• Yandere Magical Girl who… in the end, would do anything for you. Destroy the world? You got it! Discover an alien species? On it!

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Welcome to the end credits! This is Yumako's new and improved fic! I hated how I wrote her other one and it made me so angry. I couldn't even read my own fic! It was so confusing! (𖦹ᯅ𖦹)

I hope you enjoyed reading as I enjoyed writing! (>ᴗ•) !

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[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.

But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?

In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3

They are upset because I left

Where they never included me.

The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.

In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.

"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."

But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.

"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."

Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.

"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."

But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.

The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.

"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.

You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.

Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.

"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."

Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.

"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."

"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.

"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."

You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.

"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."

The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.

"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"

The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.

"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."

The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."

"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."

You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.

The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.

"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."

You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."

And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.

Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.

“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.

Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.

You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.

It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.

And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.

The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.

Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.

Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?

“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.

Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.

“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.

“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.

Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.

“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.

Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.

“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”

“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.

“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.

The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.

“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.

Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.

“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.

Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.

“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.

“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”

Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.

“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.

Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.

“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.

She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.

“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”

Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.

“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.

Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.

“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”

Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:

“You’re turning red, you know?”

Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.

“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”

“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”

“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”

Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.

“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.

“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.

Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.

“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.

“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.

“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”

Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.

“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”

Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.

“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.

“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.

Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.

“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”

Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.

“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.

Y/n shook her head.

“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.

“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”

Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.

“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.

In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.

In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.

“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.

“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.

Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.

The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.

“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.

How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.

The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.

Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.

“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.

“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.

But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.

Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.

Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.

“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”

The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.

“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”

Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.

The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.

Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.

“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”

Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.

“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”

Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.

“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.

“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”

Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.

“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”

Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.

“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”

The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.

“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.

“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”

Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.

“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”

Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.

“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”

Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.

Wherever you are, I will find you.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.

Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.

“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”

Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.

“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.

“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.

“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.

Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.

“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.

“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”

The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.

“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.

“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.

The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.

“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.

“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”

The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.

The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.

“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.

“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.

The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.

“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.

The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”

Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.

“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.

Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.

“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”

The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”

“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.

The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.

“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.

In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.

“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.

Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.

The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.

Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.

“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.

Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.

“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.

“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.

Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”

With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.

As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.

“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.

“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”

Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”

Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”

The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.

“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”

And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.

The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.

The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.

The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.

“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”

Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.

“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”

Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.

The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.

“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”

“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”

The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.

“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”

Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?

“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.

“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.

“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.

The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.

“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”

Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.

“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”

The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.

“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”

“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”

The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.

“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”

“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”

“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”

A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.

“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.

“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”

“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.

“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”

Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.

“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”

The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.

“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”

He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.

Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.

“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”

Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.

Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.

The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.

The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.

As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.

“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.

“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.

“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”

“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”

Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.

“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.

“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”

Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.

“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.

The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.

“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”

As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.

With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.

“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”

The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.

“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”

And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.

☆

A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.

I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.

By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Tribe X Reader

Requests are open!

• You were a camera woman for discovery channel. You loved your job. After all you get to travel world with your crew, see and explore the most interesting wonders, and get paid to shoot all of that in camera. What more can you ask for? Yeah your love life sucked because you were never at a one place for long. But who cares? You have your camera and your passion.

• Your crew has been assigned to shoot a new show by channel which is showing and telling people about the tribal life and community of an x forest. You were excited.

• You shooted and captured all the things about the tribal community. The people were friendly once they warmed up to your team. They showed and told you everything about their community, about forest, their lifestyle through a member of yours who knew their language and translated everything.

• You got to know about many tribal traditions, rituals, festive, their beliefs, their worships, hunting, farming style but what caught your attention was a certain tall, muscular young tribe man.

• He would always be with your crew even if he is not needed. You were shooting a particular episode on the womens in tribe? He was still there silently just observing you all especially you in a way you didn't notice.

• Your crew tried fishing for some fun in break time. And as usual your clumsy self would trip and ruin everything embarassing yourself. He would later leave a basket full of fish for you silently.

• You noticed that he was kinda good looking. Okay not kinda but a lot good looking with his huge built, dark black tribal tattoos covering his tan arms and chest, his sharp bone jewellery giving all Tarzan vibes with his long black hair tied in half bun that many women in community wished to be his mate. Also because he was a excellent hunter.

• You once told someone in community casually that you wished to taste raw natural honey from honeycombs like other tribals but were scared due to honeybees and he heard it. Well next day he gives you a huge piece of honeycomb anonymously ,freshly teared by him even though it caused him serval stinks from honey bee because this was not the season to collect honey but he would do anything for you.

• Their community had a practice where once in a year men would wear their best dresses, jewellery trying to impress womens and get their attention. This was a special episode that you weren't shooting but the other cameraman was doing because you were on the other side of forest with a few crew members shooting some shots of forest for another episode as your time of departure were close and you have to finish your work fast.

• You finished your shots. And walked a bit around the forest a little more to explore while your fellow mates moved back to see the celebration.

• You saw yan tribe sitting all alone under a tree. You felt sad seeing him all alone like this instead of being in the celebration with others. Well might be the women whose attention he is trying to grab chose someone else in competition you thought.

You tried to console him by speaking in your broken fluency in their tribe language which you have learned by staying with them for months. You were scared that you might have said something offensive to him unconsciously due to the language barrier because his expressions didn't change but became serious.

He only looked up at you and held your hand in his and said "MATE". You knew your speaking and listening skills towards his language were below average but you were 101% sure what mate word that he said means. And that scared you to dead because seeing his big strong hand holding your fragile one tightly made it clear that he is not going to let you leave at any cost.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[chaepink]

can you write about sub yan cumming too fast and having to overstimulating himself for us ☺️

sub!yan, dom!reader, overstimulation, whining, crying, teasing, masturbation

“I-It hic! It h-hurts, [name]!” Your yandere looks at you with glazed, glassy eyes, tears forming in the corners and falling as he pumps his dick fast.

“But darling, this is your punishment for cumming too fast. You caused this for yourself.”

He lets out a cry as he runs his own thumb over the tip, the pleasure making him shiver and for pre cum to leak out even more. There’s a small puddle of it underneath his dick and it slowly grows larger every time he cums.

You giggle at the lewd sight of his spread legs and how he’s watching your every move, wanting you to get closer and touch him any where.

“F-Fuck [name].” He lets out a desperate whimper. How many times has he cummed now? Three? Four? Your yandere doesn’t know, the pleasure and pain fogging his mind and making it hard to think. All he knows is that he’s close again and although it hurts, he doesn’t want to stop. His hand on his dick speeds up as the pleasure overwhelms him again.

“I-I’m close ah! Please l-let me cum, p-please?”

Grinning at just how pathetic he looks, you nod, wanting to see him fall apart again just from his own hand.

He sees you nod and lets out a cry as he cums, cum shooting out his spent dick and onto his already stained chest and thighs. He looks absolutely lewd like this but he looks so pretty at the same time.

Seeing his hand slow down, you only shake your head at him and he whines, knowing the words you’ll say next.

“Did I say stop darling? You’re not done till I say you’re done baby.”

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[theroyalyandere]

smutty yandere dilf! emperor? 😍😍 reader is like a servant or something jsjsjsjs

yandere!dilf!emperor x female!servant!reader smutty 18+

cw: dark content, child neglect, alcohol abuse, breeding, inappropriate touching, jealousy, torture, dub-con, mentions of pregnancy and lactation

a/n: to people who see this post, don't like? then don't read

imagine attending as a servant to the emperor who was taken by grief with the lost of his wife

you notice how he drowns himself in alcohol leaving his work to the butlers and other lords

even neglecting his only child, who you can see was sadden by the situation of losing their mother then their father to drinking

the emperor was too drunk to pay attention to you, although you are mostly the one who takes care of him because you tolerate anything that comes into your way

whether he throws a fit or vomit all over, you chose to endure it because of necessity

whenever you have time for yourself, you often find the young child of the emperor all alone, playing by the gardens or at their mother's empty room

the servants and guards attending to the child or passing by would look at the child with pity in their eyes thinking they are going to be doomed for life

having enough of seeing the sad prince/princess, you took it upon yourself to take care of them

you approached the child who was wary but eventually warmed up to you

days went by and the young prince/princess would often follow you like a duckling to it's mother

you adore the little kid and everyone can see it, the smile coming from the prince/princess was enough to make anyone's day bright

the news of his own child being fond of another person reached the ears of the emperor

he was in the middle of throwing a fit when you did not attend to him

the poor guard assigned to him had to inform him how you are currently attending to the his child which explains why you are late

he got a little sober and asked to show where you are

he soon dressed a little more decently albeit still smelling like alcohol and his appearance messy, he still went to find you

the guard lead the way until the emperor comes into a view where you are playing with the prince/princess along with a couple of servants

he watches at how loud his child's laughter are and the glow of your face

he feels his heart beat as if he has fallen in love again

you were nudge and turn to look at the emperor gracing you with his presence

you immediately stop tickling the young child and bow to him

words of apology came out of your lips profusely, stumbling over your words as you look down fearing for the worst

he only asked you to stand up and inspects you

your doe eyed stare makes his insides turn into mush

the young prince/princess turning to you pulling your hand to play again

the emperor looks down at his child who hid behind you from being unfamiliar with their very own father

he kneels down at the level of his child, it pains him how terrible he must've been for neglecting the sweet child his dead wife left behind

he apologizes for his behavior and promises to be on his best

the emperor saw how the little boy/girl would look up to you asking for approval to which you gave them a nod

the kid reluctantly agrees

he then turns to you apologizing and thanking you for taking care of the little one

since that day, it changed the way he looks at you

there's constantly a guard by your side especially when you are with the young child

the emperor keeps an eye on you at times

monitoring your routine

sending gifts and goods to your way

his obsession worsens day by day

he would slowly began to show interest with you

the emperor would drop his bad habits hoping you would see him in a different light

he does want to change but he can't the itching of his mind and hands to be on you

he quits alcohol and now you are his new addiction

he spends more time joining you and his only child

to sneakily get closer to you, learning about your interests and background

it makes him fall deeper in-love with you

his advances would become obvious to everyone, everyone except you

too focused on your duties to even noticed the emperor following you like a puppy

he grew even more jealous and would often take people secretly to torture

the next time you encounter those people, they would only scurry away than interact with you which places you in an odd position

he tunes it up even more through 'accidental' touches

he figures that he loves it when he's close to you, inhaling your scent almost delicious enough to taste you

he's hoping to get more so he permanently assigned you to him when you are not spending time with his child

his company intimidates you as you always feel his heated gaze

eyes scanning down from your head to toe, licking his lips while doing so

the emperor would often cage you in his arms or simply grabbing you by the waist

you get surprised everytime he does

when he couldn't handle it anymore he pins you in place and asks if you can't see how much he's pining for you

you shake your head no and he grins

"I will show you how much I want you to be mine."

he starts kissing you, making you whimper in the process

he makes you wrap your arms around him

kissing you so roughly almost taking your breath away

he rips your dress off making you yelp but he does not break the kiss

the emperor's hands would reach over to rub his palms over your skin

his touch leaves a trail of goosebumps and you feel heated

he breaks of the kiss and his lips travel south to suckle on your nipples

he plays with your breasts, teasing them and pinching them

he chuckles as he hears your whines

"patience, wouldn't be lovely if your lovely breasts swell with milk after I filled you with child?"

his words surprises you, making you worry but your mind is overtaken by lust

"yes please my emperor."

you say sultrily successfully seducing him with a sentence alone

he gets you and him naked

he feels how wet you are for him but decides that it isn't enough for him to let you accomodate to his size

so he scissors your walls with his fingers, rubbing and thrusting until his palms feel your clit

you whine and thrash around as you feel pleasure all over

back arching as he sings praises for how you're doing so well for him

you take the pleasure he gives you and soon comes undone with his hands

he pulls his hands out of your sore pussy, then brings his slick coated fingers to your lips

"open your mouth and suck it."

you comply and suck and lick slick of your release on his fingers

you taste your arousal making you clench your thighs which does not go unnoticed by him

he positions his body between your legs, grabbing you to feel you even closer

he looks down at you with lust

thrusting into you without warning

he groans at the tightness surrounding him almost rendering him motionless with how you squeeze his cock

he starts to thrust slow then suddenly went fast

you moan loudly as he fucks you hard

eyes rolling back to the back of your head

your brain shutting off from the stimulation you are receiving

he rams his cock into you with no mercy, overstimulating your clit in the process

he groans out that he is going to cum he rubs your clit with his thumb

fucking you even harder as you squeal

he thrusts so fast until he cums with a loud groan by your ear

you have your second orgasm with him filling your womb with his seed

he pulls out to see how his cum drips, he pushes it back with a thumb letting you moan a little softly

He cuddles you and you snuggle right back

You immediately fall asleep with exhaustion

he whispers in your ear that you are going to be his and his only

the emperor is determined to make you take the seat of the queen to raise his children and be his wife

he wants you to swell up with his kids marking you as his

for now he let's you rest and those plans with be continued for another day

[pipsqueaks89934]

Yandere Mershark x Mermaid reader

Warnings: the reader is kinda dumb, non-con, dub-con, marking, kidnapping, and biting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were swimming in the ocean, looking for a new shipwreck to explore so you could find cool new human things to add to your collection. Once you found a shipwreck you immediately began to swim over to it so you could find human stuff. As you checked out the sunken ship you hadn't noticed that you wandered a little too far and accidentally and unintentionally went into the Mershark territory without realizing it. You were too distracted in the human stuff to realize that a Mershark had snuck into the shipwreck and found you digging through a giant container while you threw things that you didn't like out and putting the stuff you did like in a bag you made of seaweed and other ocean plants. As you dug through the container you still were not aware of the Mershark silently sneaking up on you until you felt a large pair of arms wrap around your chubby waist, making a scream erupt from your throat.

“Hey, little one you're a long way from home aren't you?” the Mershark said as he turned you around so you two could be face to face.

“Who are you?” you squeal as you try to get away from the Mershark.

“I’m Alon,” he said as he played with a small chunk of your hair while keeping you in a strong grip. “And you're in my territory.”

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble as you give up trying to get out of his grip. “I’ll leave and never come back, I promise!”

“But then who will be my mate?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don't know!” you said as you started trying to get out of his grasp.

“Don't worry I'm not going to hurt you,” he said with a smirk that showed off his sharp teeth. “Too much!”

“No, please, I'm sorry!” you cry as he starts to swim out of the shipwreck with you in his arms.

He swam deeper and deeper into the ocean until you two reached a cove.

“Where are we?” you ask as you look around the small cove.

“Our new home!” he said while holding you from the back.

“Home?” you ask while looking at him with a scared look in your eyes.

“Yes,” he said while putting his head in the nook of your neck before kissing it gently. “Should I mark you now or while we mate?”

“What?” you ask as you try to push his head away.

“You're right,” he said before pinning you to the sea floor. “Why wait?”

The next thing you know you are being held down while the shark above you thrusts into your warmth at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” he groaned while he kept the pace he set earlier. “I’m gonna mark you in a minute, I know you mermaids like to have a mark to show off!”

All you could do was squeak, chirp, and whimper as the shark man thrust into you as hard as he could.

“Does it feel good my little fishy?” he asked as he looked down at you with a smirk on his handsome and chiseled face.

You tried not to think about how hot the Mershark on top of you was as he continued to fuck you.

“Answer!” he said angrily while grabbing your face so you could look back at him.

I don't remember looking away.

“N…no…” you whimper out as you try not to cry.

“Aww why didn't you say anything baby?” he cooed with fake pity before going slower.

“Ah!” you moan as he started to go slower.

“Does it feel good now?” he smirked as he hit all the good spots inside you at just the right pace.

You nodded your head as you felt something build up in your stomach. As the feeling grew you put your webbed claws on Alon’s shoulders so you could hold on to him as he thrusted into you. As you came you dug your sharp claws into his shoulders (accidentally making him bleed) before slumping down to the ocean floor. After a few more powerful thrusts he bottomed out and stayed there for a few seconds before you felt something fill you up.

“It's okay little fish,” he said soothingly as he rubbed your face. “It's just my eggs you will be okay.”

All you did was nod your head as you felt your eyelids getting heavy.

“I will never let you leave my side little fish,” he said with a smirk as he cuddled up beside you, making sure to hold you tight in his big arms. “Especially when you are the mother of our kids.”

[mamayan]

can we get a babytrapping yandere 🥹

Absolutely you can Nonnie~

tw: Baby Trapping • Yandere • Male Yandere • Afab Darling • Afab reader • Pet names • Manipulation • PIV • Oral (F) • Overstimulation/Multiple Orgasms • Sub! Reader (implied) • Dom! Yandere (implied) • Dubcon • Breeding

This wasn’t originally his intention.

He only wanted a happy life with you, filled with joy and love.

It’s not his fault those dense friends of yours want to keep you from him. It’s not his fault your family is corrupt and trying to tear you both apart. It’s the world’s fault for making you so naive to the evils which lurk in the shadows. You don’t know any better, looking adorably flustered as he buries his face between your thighs.

He could die here, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and shake, he really believes he’s found heaven.

“Oh god—I’m cumming—!” As you throw your head back and your warm cunt gushes, he truly knows he’d do absolutely anything to keep this perfect bubble he’s carefully crafted from popping.

You look stunning, sweaty and ruined from multiple orgasms, looking at him with such pretty trusting eyes. Panting in the bed he bought for you, the lacy lingerie he’d given you as a present hanging off your ankle and pushed up on your chest to reveal all your skin for his gaze, he knows he could never love anyone as much as he loves you.

His eyes are crazed, smile distorted as he gazes at you with obsession and wild adoration. You miss it all, dizzy from dehydration and the intensity of your own orgasms. He’s never usually so forward and rough, intense and dazzling as he whispers his love in your ear.

You were supposed to be breaking up with him. Tell him you need space, something he doesn’t seem capable of giving. Instead you’re in his bed again, falling for his charm and skill in handling your body.

You’d do it tomorrow, as he easily flips you and drags your ass up as your cheek rests on the soft comforter.

“Always so precious when you cum for me…” he’s kissing down your thighs, licking up your release as driving you wild as he blows cool air on your pussy. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fill this pretty pussy too.” He chuckles, acting reassuring as if you doubted he wouldn’t. “I’ll fill you up nice and good.” And you don’t see it.

You don’t see his face, darkening with something sadistic as he slicks his tip up with your juices and presses into you. His thick cock stretched your gummy tight walls, making your back arch further for him as he sinks so deep it nearly strings.

He relishes in your little squeal as he slams the rest of the way in, rolling him hips and driving the soft mushroom top right up against your cervix. His moan mixes with your whine, head falling back as he pulls out slowly before slamming back, a new pace being set of fucking you as deeply and hard as he can. Your lips open to complain, whine what you really want, faster and harder than this sensual pace, but his hand reaches around and his finger touches your clit. You shut up as he gathers your slick and smears it over your hardened nub, beginning to rub small circles around it to accompany his thrusts.

He only huffs a laugh at your behavior, how you relax and roll your hips back to meet him now as he works you towards another orgasm.

His chest meets your back, pressing you deeper into the mattress as his scent surrounds you, lips pressed to your ear as you clamp down tighter. Each little puff of warm air on the sensitive cartilage making him hold you tighter as you moan and wiggle for more friction.

“You like how I fuck you? How well we fit together? It’s like your pussy was made for me.” He groans, only riling you up further with the dirty talk as you feel another orgasm pulling at the knot inside you. His fingers keep the same pace as his hips, his tip rocking up inside you, so deep and pressing it’s like he’s trying to sear himself inside you. “You going to cum sweetheart? Milk my cock and fill your little womb?” The heat and pressure are becoming dizzying, your mind going a bit blank as you do cum, soaking his cock and balls as he speeds his pace up only now, drawing out your orgasm and causing it to intensify. His tip kissing your cervix over and over, fucking you nice and deep before he groans curses. “You’re gonna be such a good mama, fill you up nice and full, breed this fucking cunt make it all mine,” you’re cumming again, too overwhelming to focus on his concerning language as his balls draw up tight. He’s spilling into you as you spasm and tense around him, cock swelling up as his balls release the pent up load he’s withheld for nearly a month into your fertile womb.

You’d been such a good girl, taking the sugar pills diligently. You didn’t even notice you’d been off your birth control for over three months now, just after you moved out of his apartment under the excuse of needing “more personal space”.

He’s fucking you nice and full all night, filling you up over and over, growing increasingly unhinged as he imagines you swelling with the child you created together. Your family wouldn’t push him away once you figured it out. Your friends would take a seat in the back of your mind, the baby taking precedence. And there he’d be, happy and ready to provide and care for you.

“You ready for another load baby♡?” You nod in a daze as you cum for him again, exhausted and overstimulated as he groans and shoots another hot load inside you. Your lower body soaked in fluids from how much you’d both cum.

You’d be pregnant for sure by the time the sun rose.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[hana-no-seiiki]

[Y/N] : You think you have the right to control me?? What are you, the government??

YAN! NERD! : *Disappears for around 7 years*

YAN! NERD! : *Reappears after getting a degree, finishing law school, and becoming the President of the Nation. Then, speaks to you from behind your window with a muffled voice* Yes, indeed I am.

[Y/N] : WhAT THe FUCK-

[ HEADCANNONS FEATURING YAN! NERD ]

[shrewsburysworld]

Twisted Hearts | Jeon Jungkook | Part 5 (m)

I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY!!! THIS REWARD IS FOR MY 100 FOLLOWERS 🤧

Warning :- mature content, dark themes, dubious, non-consensual elements, delusional behaviour, Stockholm syndrome, physical and emotional elements, obsession and toxic relationship, smut, oral (female receiving), jk is whipped, sub jk, penetration, unprotected sex (use protection kids), reader leaves Jungkook hanging after sex, dom reader, toxic reader. The behaviour of characters is not something to emulate.

Summary :- Jungkook forces you into a twisted marriage, sparking a dangerous, obsessive love. As your resentment turns into dominance, you both become trapped in a dark, toxic relationship where love and control blur into one.

*This is original work do not copyright ©*

---

That night, you kissed him, something shifted irreversibly between the two of you. Jungkook had always been devoted to you—obsessed, even—but now, with the faintest glimmer of your approval, that devotion turned into something far more intense, more desperate. He looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, and in that moment, you knew you could do anything with him. He would let you.

You stood up, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your bare skin beneath. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he watched you, completely mesmerized. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way he hung on your every move, and it gave you a thrill, a rush of power.

“Undress me,” you commanded, your voice low and authoritative.

Jungkook scrambled to his knees, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for your waistband. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, but there was none. You were in control now, and you wanted him to know it.

“Do it,” you urged, your voice firmer this time.

His hands quickly went to work, unbuttoning and unzipping your pants before sliding them down your legs. He then reached for your underwear, his hands shaking as he carefully pulled them down, leaving you completely bare before him. Jungkook’s gaze raked over your body, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he took you in, his adoration and lust evident in his expression. Your already wet cunt was staring back at him.

Without waiting for further instruction, Jungkook leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, working his way up to where you needed him most. You let out a small gasp at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way closer to your core. He licked your clit, making your body shudder. His tongue teasing you, pleasing your pussy and frustrating you at same time.

“Don’t tease me,” you warned, your voice sharp despite the pleasure starting to course through you.

Jungkook obeyed immediately, his tongue darting out to taste you, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. He licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your center, his tongue skillfully finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. You felt your knees go weak, but you steadied yourself by gripping his hair even tighter, guiding him as he pleasured you.

“More,” you demanded, your voice breathless but commanding.

Jungkook obliged, his tongue working faster now, circling your clit before taking it between his lips and sucking gently. You bit down on your lip to stifle the sounds of pleasure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much you were enjoying this, but it was hard to maintain your composure when he was so focused on your pleasure.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something more—something almost worshipful. “Do you like this?” he asked, his voice husky.

You didn’t answer immediately, just pressed his head back down to where you wanted him. “Don’t talk,” you ordered. “Just keep going.”

Jungkook resumed his task with renewed fervor, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you closer to the edge. He was skilled, there was no denying that, and the way he was so eager to please you only added to your arousal. But it wasn’t just the physical pleasure that had you on the brink of release—it was the power you held over him, the knowledge that he would do anything to make you happy, to keep you satisfied.

Your breathing grew heavier, your thighs trembling as you felt the tension building inside you. Jungkook seemed to sense how close you were, his movements becoming more intense, more precise, as he drove you toward your peak.

Finally, the pressure inside you snapped, and you cried out, your body convulsing as the orgasm tore through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, didn’t relent, his tongue still working to prolong your pleasure until you were nothing but a quivering mess in his arms.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you pushed him away, your breathing ragged. Jungkook sat back on his heels, his face flushed, his lips glistening with your essence. He looked up at you with an expression that was both awestruck and hungry, waiting for your next command.

You stared down at him, a sense of satisfaction and power coursing through you. “Now,” you said, your voice still laced with authority, “I want you inside me.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly, quickly stripping off his own clothes before positioning himself between your legs. You could see how hard he was, how much he wanted this, but you didn’t let him take control. No, this was your moment, and you were going to savor every second of it.

As he entered you, you clenched your thighs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, making him groan in pleasure. You set the pace, moving your hips against his in a rhythm that had him panting, his hands gripping your hips as he tried to keep up. But no matter how much he tried to take control, you didn’t let him. Every movement, every thrust was dictated by you, your pleasure the only thing that mattered.

“Do you love this?” you asked, your voice breathy as you rode him, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Do you love being my little plaything?”

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back in his head as he nodded frantically. “Yes,” he gasped. “I love it. I love you.”

You smirked, satisfied with his response. “Good,” you purred, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Because this is all you’ll ever get from me.”

He moaned at your words, the sound sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel him getting close, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release, but you weren’t done yet. You slowed your movements, just enough to tease him, to keep him on the edge without giving him what he wanted.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please let me…”

But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned in, biting down on his neck just hard enough to leave a mark, making him cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Not yet,” you whispered against his skin. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

Jungkook whimpered, his entire body trembling as he fought to hold back. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was barely holding on, and it thrilled you, the power you had over him making your own pleasure skyrocket.

Finally, when you were satisfied, you let yourself go, your body shuddering as another orgasm overtook you. Only then did you give him permission, and with a guttural moan, Jungkook followed, his release powerful and overwhelming as he spilled inside you.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you catching your breath, before you finally pulled away, leaving Jungkook lying there, spent and utterly at your mercy. He looked up at you, his eyes glazed with satisfaction and something deeper—something that bordered on worship.

But you didn’t linger. You stood up, not bothering to cover yourself as you walked away, leaving him lying there, still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened.

As you left the room, you couldn’t help but feel a dark sense of satisfaction. You had him exactly where you wanted him—completely, irrevocably yours. And now, there was no going back.

---

Twisted hearts masterlist

Liked it?! Do like and reblog. I love you guys 🫶🫶🫶

Each time someone follows it makes me happier!!

I miss BTS by the way 🤧 (although Jinnie came home), they are my happy pills.

[sweetheartmotives]

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓼!

Desc and possible Cw: None!

Let me know if I missed any

Micah, The yan Bartender: Just like other holidays, Micah was ecstatic for this one! Another holiday to celebrate all the time he's spent with his beloved?! Yessir! Count him in! Anyway, you guys start the day off with breakfast in bed [Micah made it for you] and then a quick cuddle sesh, and another cuddle sesh, and another cuddle seshhhh- until around 3:00 pm! Around that time, Micah runs off to the grocery store while you sleep to prepare a surprise dinner for you! He made something yummy, fancy, and somewhat homely dinner. You guys finish the lovely day off with gifts, kisses, and you guessed it, love making.

Overall, 10/10! Great yan to spend this lovely holiday with! :3

Jaakobah, Evil Yan Cupid: Oh yeah, this is a holiday Jaakobah digs. First of all, he is Cupid, therefore he knows all about romance and how to sugar you up! He, of course, plans a whole day of activities a week prior since he's the 'expert' on this holiday. Anyway, you get your favorite flowers in a neat little bundle with a package of chocolates matched with it, you go to a fair, and finally, you go to dinner.

Overall, 8/10. He's a shithead during all this btw. 'You're so desperate lol, you had to get wit cupid to get a valentine.' BE QUIET.

Harper, The yan Eagle Hybrid: Harper, as expected, didn't know what Valentine's Day was. You tried explaining it to him and all he took from it was he had to give you flowers and a gift to show his love. It didn't make sense to poor Harper, he already gifts you the finest flowers and fruits he can find in the forest, what else could you want?? After expressing his confusions to you, you explain that it's a day of love and gift giving is just one way of showing love! Harper nods along as you explained it, he finally gets it now, you want a baby! That's the ultimate gift! Oh goodie, off to the nest deep inside the cave you two go! [Dw, his cum has special properties to get EVERYONE pregnant. Don't matter what ur gender/sex is 😊]

Overall, 4/10. It was nice at the beginning but now your legs are sore.

Damian, The yan deep diver: Damian, as expected, was the one who suggested and explained Valentine's Day to you. He even brought you your special treats to jndugle in for the special occasion! He brought you pretty shells, rocks, Coral, etc from the deep depths and not deep depths for you to enjoy. He also tried, again, to kiss you. You bit him. Hard.

Overall, 3/10. The gifts were nice but the kiss attempt ruined everything.

Taiyō, the Yandere Cafe Host: Prepare to get spoiled! First, he comes to wherever you live with a big, big expensive bouquet of flowers matched with a pretty heart package of fancy chocolates. After that, he tells you all about your dinner plans for the evening and how he expects you to wear something nice. But now you might say, "But sweetheart, what if I don't have nice clothes?!" Well, don't worry your pretty head about any of that! Taiyō will happily whip out a fat wad of cash for you to buy something nice for your little Valentine's Day dinner 😊 You two lovebirds end the night off eating in a fancy restaurant under the jawdropping, most marvelous Moonlight around.

Overall, another 10/10! The spoiling never ends with him! 😭

Yumako, The yan magical girl: She was pumped! She planned a picnic, an hour of albuming photos together, going around town, and eating yummy Valentine's Day themed foods. You guys did all those things btw ^_^

Overall, 10/10. Was so cute!!

─────────────── ˚｡⋆୨💌୧⋆｡˚ ───────────────

Welcome to the end credits! This is where I will give information on my new or previous yans!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you all get whatever chocolates and other sweets you enjoy from that special someone! I hope you all enjoyed reading as I enjoyed writing! [Sending virtual chocolates to you all! ♡]

─────────────────────────────────────────

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[thehauntedetheral]

YANDERE ASSASIN

Requests are open !

• You and your husband has been married for 2 years now. And you were happy with each other.

• You are an accountant for a company while your husband is an engineer.

• You were like any other normal couple working, eating dinner together, going out on weekends, doing the usual day to day stuff.

• But one thing you didn't knew was that well your husband is an fake engineer who pretends to be one.

• In reality he is a most sought after assasin who is hired to kill top level people.

• The "I have to go out for two days for a project darling" is nothing but a excuse he gives you to go and kill his target in another state.

• Have guns hidden in various places in your shared home for " safety purpose ".

• One time you found one of his gun and asked him why is it here? "Hehe well darling the crime rate is increasing day by day I bought it for us for our safety I even have a legal licence for the gun." (Yes a licence for being an assasin)

• This is the same man who melts into your arms, follows you around the house like a puppy, looks at you like you hung the moon and stars and also the same man who doesn't miss his target even from miles and shoots them mercilessly.

• Hits all the target in a shooting game giving you a huge stuffed teddy bear while saying "Beginner's luck, baby."

• Yan vowed in the beginning phase of his job that he would never get married due to his job risk but you entered his life, made him break his vow as he asked you to marry him after falling so desperately in love with you. How couldn't he? You are just so damn perfect.

• You mentioned in a conversation to him casually how a co worker creeped you out by his staring. Boom from next day the co-worker now always avoids you like plague. (Because some unknown assasin threatened his life if he ever came near you)

• He has never been guilty in his life for killing people or having it as job but becomes guilty in a millisecond when he sees you sad thinking how bad of a husband I am? And to make all the clarifications clear you were not sad due to him you were just having your usual period mood swings. Because no way in hell this man would ever make you sad. Before making you cry he would shoot himself with his own gun.

• You both were watching an assasin movie on a weekend and you said how good looking and skilled that assasin the movie character is.

Meanwhile Yan's Mind : Control your self yan no need to be jealous you are better than that freaking stupid looking loser assasin. y/n just doesn't know. Control.

• Yan at a Halloween night comes home after shooting his target with a little blood on his clothes wearing his assasin black clothes and a gun in hand knowing full well that you are at your friend's house. Only to be surprised that you are at home throwing him a suprise Halloween party with others. You looking at him with a confused look as he stands on doorstep shocked.

Yan : Suprise baby!!! I came up dressed up as an assain that you liked in that movie. I hope you like it. (Saying with an akward smile while telling himself to not be so reckless next time)

Meanwhile the people at party who know the true Yan : 🧍‍♂️

• Is so damn protective of you due to his work line that whenever he leaves for days makes sure your friend stays with you and making sure you are safe through all the hidden cameras spread all over the house.

• He loves you a lot. He might be a deadly assasin to the whole world but he is just a normal engineer madly in love with you who just wants to devour you whole so no one else can have you.

• Reader to their friends : My husband won't ever hurt a fly.

Meanwhile Yan listening to this conversation: 🧍‍♂️

• When he is off duty he just spoils you with his cooking and spending all his time with you cuddling watching shows and just talking.

• Prays to god that you never found out about his true job afraid that you would get scared and leave him.

For more yandere reading :

[chaepink]

Hear me out, maliciously praising pathetic yandere Oikawa. Like he’s so pathetic obsessed with reader, and the sound of their praise is making him go crazy, and reader catches on to this and starts praising him just for a reaction, which ends in him cumming, on his knees for reader as they just smirk and teasingly praise his pathetic shaking form <33

dom!reader, sub!Oikawa praise, cumming in pants, teasing

“You’re such a good boy for me, right?” Another shiver racks through Oikawa as he whines, staring up at you from his place on the floor with glassy eyes.

You’re standing in front of him with a grin on your face that makes him swallow in anticipation.

“I never thought you would like my praise this much, Oikawa. You must really like being my good slut, don’t you?”

A soft whimper leaves him as he clenches his fists that lay on his thighs. He’s been sitting on his knees for a while and there’s a slight ache but the cloudy fog in his mind is preventing him from thinking of anything else other than you and your words.

“I bet you just want to touch me right now, don’t you? Make me feel good like a good boy is supposed to do?” Oikawa stares up at you with tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

You glance down from his face and see the bulge in his pants and smirk. Oikawa can’t even think properly anymore, he just wants to cum. He’s so hard, it hurts.

“You’re hard from just my words, baby? Gonna cum from my praise only?” A sob racks through his body and he nods eagerly, staring up at you as he ruts futilely in the air, searching for any kind of friction.

“Go ahead and be a good whore for me then and cum in your pants then, darling.” Oikawa lets out a choked moan and gasps at the sudden release. Quickly, you see a wet stain start to appear on his crotch and you giggle.

“How cute, you came in your pants without my touch.” Oikawa’s breaths are heavy as his body rocks with his recent orgasm.

After a few minutes, he looks up at you with trembling lips before glancing down at his stained pants with a flushed face and looking back up at you, expecting you to do something. You raise an eyebrow before suddenly placing your foot on his crotch and pushing it down, making him cry out in pleasure.

“What, you thought I was done, darling? Oh we’re far from that, don’t you want to be my good boy?” He nods eagerly.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[running-with-kn1ves]

Need you to write more WLW 😫😫😫😫

It’s the only thing keeping me sane!!!!!

A/N: I wrote this based on a random ass scene I saw in The Boys and now...here lies this creation. (Female fitness trainer is nearing completion)

CW: blackmail, manipulation, toxic relationship type beat, controlling behavior, threats, cigarettes

Synopsis: you attempt to break up with your girlfriend-- she's too much. But she was going to keep you, one way or another.

You knew the rough crowd around town was... intense. But this chick was on another level. Kali liked to scare you; with how little you knew about her friends, leering on their motorcycles as she watched from behind a cigarette, your mind swam with scenarios of being abandoned on bloody asphalt behind a dumpster.

The music she blares in her shitty, one-eyed car and the smoke trail she left in bathrooms-- she liked being revered as nothing but trouble. You were doing your best to stay away from any kind of danger, focused on fixing the pieces of your tarnished education as your grades had not been kind to you. But Kali got to you first, ripping away any thoughts of work and reparations to your tuition debt.

So, despite the foggy kisses, lipstick stains on your jaw, and unexpected clinginess she showed to the idea of moving you in with her, you're making an attempt to break up with her.

"You... want to ditch me?"

"What? No! I'm just, I'm extremely worried about this next semester." You put a hand on her square-cut, polished fingers. "If I fail even one class again, my scholarships will drop me. I'm already on probation with the university."

You hope she can see how worried you are in your eyes, squeezing her hand to ease the news. She was going rigid, stiff as a tree with the strength of a waiting titan.

"School, huh."

Kali watched you beneath wispy bangs, looking straight through you. As if you weren't there, heart-pounding and palm-sweating in front of her.

You were glad she balled her hands in fists before you grabbed them, having one too many instances of your fingers crushed in her grip.

"B-but... we can still see each other.. maybe, sometimes on the weekends. I just can't afford any distractions, I've already spent a fortune getting to where I am."

"Is this because I want you to move in with me?" She blurted, straight faced and tight lipped.

Dark, midnight eyes bore into you for the truth.

Her ears perked at the sound of your jaggy sigh, knowing this would come up. "... No, but I have to say that it is still pretty early in, well, "us", to be considering... that."

"Really?" She asked earnestly, cold fingers finding their way around your forearm. "Because I still feel pretty confident about the idea, baby."

You hated how she could call you "baby" so easily, how every "sweetheart" was patronizing or forceful, or could be the most saccharine thing you heard when you first woke up.

her boot tips pressed against the side of your shoes, trapping you in like a snake wrapped around a rat. One hand held yours in a death grip, the other raking shivery nails against your knee from under the coffee table.

"I've got a perfect place for your stuff, work's only ten minutes away; why would there be any little reason to stay at your dusty old apartment?"

"I, I don't think you're hearing me--"

"No, no baby, I think you forgot who's choice this was to make." Your skin was a deep color under her fingers, her strength far outmatched as your clammy, fragile hand was brought to her cheek. She tutted under her breath, tsk'ing in condescention. "What would you do without me? How are you going to survive alone, no car to get to your classes, or the grocery store, unprotected around your peers... I can't imagine it, especially since your landlord never got his money to re-lease your apartment next month..."

From under the table her swift fingers brought a bulging envelope to the table, previously stuffed in your landlord's mailbox.

It wasn't even opened, the cash and tenant forms sealed without a mark.

Your jaw went slack, coffee cup cold in your hands.

"How did you--"

"Try it again, and I'll find it. You'll keep losing money, keep draining chances to come to me lovingly."

Kali sweetly tiptoed her black nails up to your shirt collar, sending shivers down your neck with each gentle, uncharacteristically slow touch.

Without warning, the woman snatched your shirt in her fist and jerked you forward, pulling you tightly against the coffee table. The seething anger she bore hardly made a sound, leaving the fellow cafe attendants nearby unbothered.

Your wince left her apathetic, bear-like eyes relishing in how unnerved and frantic you were becoming.

"I so rarely give out second chances. You, my love, are very lucky to be the exception. Don't make me regret it," your girlfriend was only inches apart, painted lips plump and teasing only breaths away. "I don't like to play dirty, but I will if you run from me. Is that clear, baby?"

You swallowed thickly, letting your gaze run away from hers as she bore into you with intense malice.

"Say yes," She whispered, on edge of twisting your wrist. "So I don't have to show everyone in here who you belong to."

Your cheeks lit up, terrified of the baristas and groups of students who'd look your way if she carried out that threat. Kali was unpredictable, something you found so endearing when you first met. She was always moving, doing something you couldn't expect. Now, it was scaring you.

You nod your head, regretting the idea of trying to break up with her in public. She wasn't afraid to make a scene, unlike you.

"Of course, Kals. There won't... be any need for that."

You hoped the sweetly familiar nickname with a hint of an anxious smile would make you sound casual, as if you weren't sweating behind your jacket and avoiding her blinkless stare like the plague.

"That's right." She whispered, letting go of your collar to pull at your jaw, this time only with the intent of dragging you closer. She was always so rough with her grip, capable or causing pain with its force, or merely leaving you breathless.

The punk's hand from beneath the table took mercy on your thigh with its painful rakes, moving instead to your cheek. Cold rings nicked your skin, her knuckles brushing against your face in a gentle, longing caress. You were hunched over the table now, uncomfortably risen as she sat like a queen in her cushioned chair, your face in her hands and your breath stolen by her.

Her pierced tongue came to graze the inside of your mouth, all-consuming and grinning through her teeth.

She tasted of stale cigarettes and mint gum, her current oral fixation besides the longterm smoking vice she's had since middle school.

You reluctantly kissed back, feeling wrongness in your gut. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to be sharing hot breaths or hearing her satisfactory groans for capturing you once again. You were supposed to be leaving teary eyed and frightened of what she'd do now that you were no longer on her good side. But this, was far worse. You were walking on ice that was already breaking, the freezing water below beginning to flood the only surface of land you had left.

Kali pulled away, not without a few last kisses to the corner of your mouth and cheek, leaving wet lipstick stains. Your lips were probably about as red as hers were now. Dark lashes heightened by her thick mascara clouded your view, your girlfriend looking up at you through them with a gentle hardness.

She wasn't so scary when you were falling to her whims, like putty in her fingers and teeth.

"Kal..." you mumble, upsettingly conflicted between your failure to carry out what you came for, and your fear of what her threats would do. Her history of breaking into your bedroom window and making herself at home wherever she tracked you left you without a doubt of her potential. It made you all the more anxious of what she would be like if you didn't follow through with what she wanted.

"My friend is out of town for the weekend, said I could use his condo by the beach... a getaway, just for us baby." Her cold thumb smoothed over your bruised lips, an inkling of a smile coming to curl her mouth upward. "You'll be there, tonight. Dressed in that cute little number you wore on our first date. Is that right?"

It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. 'Are you going to let go of this once in a lifetime second chance I'm giving you? ' is what she was asking.

You didn't want to say yes. You didn't want to show up, to spend another agonizing second with her knowing that your failing at everything you hold dear. But her hold on your face brings you to fall back into your comfort zone.

"Yeah, Kals. I'll... I'll be there. But--"

She laid a firm hand on your shoulder,  leaning against your ear with wrathful delight.

"Promise you won't bail on me, sweetheart. I don't wanna come looking for you," She let go of your sweet lips to play with a strand of your hair, curling it around her finger. "I really don't enjoy forcing you to obey.."

That was such a lie. She loved it, relished in your mild disobedience at times. But this was a different level of rebellion, one she detested.

You swallowed your protest, frustration bubbling in your stomach in distress and fear.

"I promise, Kal."

[pipsqueaks89934]

Yandere Merman x Marine biologist

Warnings: mention of having kids, kidnapping, broken bones, chubby reader

(it's not mentioned but his name is Wade)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was splashing around in the water as I observed the fish in an odd way I took the glass dry and I had to collect water samples and trap the guppy inside, but once I closed the lid, I felt something big tackle me making me black out. When I woke up I was in a cave with the only way out being to swim underwater.

How did I get here?

“What were you doing in my territory?” I heard someone ask from a part of the cave I hadn't seen before.

“I’m so sorry, I didn't know, I promise I won't do it again!” I said quickly while bowing my head.

“Good thing I'm nice,” he said while swimming closer to me. “You'll be my mate for the rest of your life.”

“I’m sorry?” I asked while moving further away from him.

“It's getting close to mating season and I need a mate and all the mermaids are either stuck up or ugly,” he explained as he grabbed my leg and pulled me to him. “But you’re cute and nice, not to mention chubby the perfect size to carry my offspring to ensure they're well nourished.”

“Children?” I asked while looking at him with fear.

“Yes,” he responded while tugging at my swimsuit. “But I can't give you my children with this fabric in the way.”

“Get away from me!” I said as I tried to kick him off me.

He ended up twisting my ankle until you could hear a crack, making me scream in pain.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be!” He said as he ripped off my swimsuit.

“S..stop…” I cried while looking at my broken ankle.

“You are acting like a kid!” he said to me before leaving the little cave.

What has my life come to? How am I supposed to escape?

[f4wning]

imagine a former non-yan yandere.

warnings: kidnapping, stalking, etc

➣ former non-yan!yandere who notices your presence after half a year of not realizing you were in his math class. he didn't even realize you existed before you two were assigned to sit together.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who ignores you. oh, you need help on a problem? that's too bad. he is NOT letting you look at his notes. fuck off. he doesn't care if it's a fucking partner activity. do it yourself.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who realizes the lines between hatred and love have blurred. now he finds your stupidity the slightest bit cute. now he wants to work together with you. now he wants to get rid of anything and anyone that could hurt you. now he wants to kill your stupid fucking friends and kidnap save you and keep you all for himself.

➣ wait what was that last thought?

➣ former non-yan!yandere who genuinely believes this is what love is supposed to feel like. he doesn't know a thing about love; he's never dated, he's had no friends his entire life, and his parents had always been too busy with work to care about him. he doesn't have a clue what love is supposed to feel like, so naturally he just chalks up this obsession to love.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who starts growing more and more enamored with you to the point where you consume all his thoughts.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who eventually starts following you to your house after school. it’s not stalking! his house is just the same way as yours!

➣ former non-yan!yandere who tells himself that if he's just walking the same path, it’s not creepy. he convinces himself that it’s pure coincidence, even if he sometimes takes a longer route just to be near you a little longer.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who finds himself memorizing your schedule, not because he’s obsessed—no, of course not! it’s just because he just wants to know what you’re doing. it’s perfectly normal to know where someone is at all times, right? he just wants to keep you safe!

➣ former non-yan!yandere who slowly starts to get envious of anyone who gets too close to you, even if it’s just one of your classmates asking for help. they don’t see you the way he does. they don’t know what you really need.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who eventually starts taking little trinkets from you that he’s sure you won’t miss. you’re not going to realize your pencil is gone, right? or that one hair clip you wore to school?

➣ former non-yan!yandere who gets this overwhelming urge to be with you and look at you and listen to you all the fucking time. it’s too bad he can’t.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who realizes he needs to look at you all the time, or else he’ll go fucking insane. he starts taking photos of you—just a few at first, but those few quickly grow into hundreds, maybe thousand of photos. he prints them all out and decides to plaster them all over his bedroom walls.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who sits on his bed for hours on end, just staring and staring and staring at the photos of you. he tells himself it’s normal. he’s just admiring how perfect you are!

➣ former non-yan!yandere who starts to become frustrated. the photos aren’t enough. they aren’t really you. they’re just images—they don’t capture the exact way you look, the way you talk, the way you smell, the way you move. he needs you here.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who begins to lose his grip on reality. the line between fantasy and reality becomes thinner and thinner as the days go on. he becomes delusional, starting to believe you and him are already together, that you feel the same way he does, that you love him. of course you love him! why else would you always be in his thoughts?

➣ former non-yan!yandere who grows paranoid that someone might take you away from him. he starts spreading rumors about your friends, telling you how they’re such horrible people. yes, that one friend of yours threatened him to stay away from you! don’t you believe him?

➣ former non-yan!yandere who starts planning out how to finally make you his. it’s not enough to just watch you from a distance. he needs you next to him. he starts looking up various things—how to knock people out, what the strongest type of rope is, what drugs are best to use, the most efficient weapon to kill people with.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who’s conflicted. a small part of him knows this isn’t normal, that something is wrong with the way he feels about you. those doubts drowned out by his love for you, though.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who finally realizes that he’s too far gone. he thought of losing you terrifies him, and that fear only fuels his obsession. he needs to protect you. he needs to make sure no one ever takes you away from him. he needs to save you from everyone else.

➣ former non-yan!yandere who finally acts on his plans, drugging you and tying you up, taking you away from everyone and everything that could ever be a threat to you. it’s all for love, he tells himself. it isn’t kidnapping if he’s protecting you! he just wants to save you. a small part of his brain registers how wrong this is though. it’s so, so wrong.