#yandere hero killer stain

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

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

synopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

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

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had… had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

K

e

r

o

s

e

n

e

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I’ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

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 @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 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

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!

[sapphic-agent]

I feel like having Toga and Dabi be serial killers was a bad idea because it serves no purpose in the story.

The LOV consists of serial killers, thieves, and minorities. And they're treated the same, no internal disputes about ethics.

Agreed.

I've talked about this before, but I really hate what Horikoshi did with Toga and Dabi. They joined the LOV because of Stain, but for some reason that's never addressed. Dabi even mentioned hating "false heroes" which, going on the theory that he was Touya, implied that he hated how Endeavor was revered despite the way he treated his family.

But no, he sees nothing wrong with Endeavor beating Rei, neglecting Natsu and Fuyumi, and bashing Shoto. It turns out he just wanted Endeavor's attention😒

And with Toga... Horikoshi just leaned way too far into making her a yandere archetype. I liked what she said to Izuku when she was posing as Camie because it sounded like she was trying to see what kind of hero he was. Early Toga was a lot more intelligent and insightful.

But all that was scrapped to make her a creepy predator with no substance.

When it comes to character assassination, Dabi and Toga really got some of the worst of it. Especially in the end. One died, the other is being forced to see his abuser to "make amends"

[killacharacterbingo]

Prompt Master List

(Updated as prompts are added)

If any prompts don't make sense check this post: A prompt explained and A prompt explained II

Switching Places

Near-Death Experience

Drowning

Dumb Ways To Die

Blood Loss

Suicide

Your Worst Fear

Sacrifice

Sickness

Lightning

Fire

Hard Choices

Dead On Their Feet

Hero/Villain Swap

Torture

Crossover

Covid

Tomorrow Isn't Promised

Falling

Presumed Dead

Storm-Chasing

Canon Compliant

Never Meet Your Heroes

Stalker

Dictionary Death

Friendly Fire

13th Reasons Why

Musical Death

Survivor's Guilt

Conversation With Death

Collateral Damage

Test Subject

Pulling The Plug

Yandere

Betrayal

One Punch Can Kill

Medical Malpractice

The Blip

Cast It Into The Fire

"I Have The High Ground"

Deactivated

Once Bitten Twice Shy

Bleeding Blue

To Be Or Not To Be

Stabbing

Car Crash

Mugging Gone Wrong

Into The Woods

Death Of The Soul

Dormammu, I’ve Come To Bargain

The Cake Is A Lie

Even Heroes Die

With Great Power 

Sacrificed To The Gods

“Sometimes Death Is Better”

"I Finally Have Something To Leave Behind"

Natural Disaster

Mistaken Identity

Bucketlist 

Ten Years Later

Not So Secret Monologues

180 - The Character Doesn't Die

Final Destination

Raped To Death

Chronic Illness

Outed As A Spy

Bulletproof Vest

Sung To Sleep Forever 

A Soft Epilogue 

Wait For Me In Valhalla 

“I Was Saving My ten” - pain scale

“There’s A Boat Jack” 

Married Life Montage 

“You Have Your Mother’s Eyes” 

Russian Roulette

Defenestration

Karma’s A Bitch

Toxic Gas

Murder-Suicide

Famous last words

"Hey, i think we're going to be okay after all!"

"I'll always come back!"

In another's arms

Accident

Revenge

"You can rest now..."

A long time ago

Falls through the Ice

Asthma attack

Shock

Hypothermia

Pushed to the Limit

Commotio Cordis

Death row

Breaking the 4th wall

Wikihow to Die

Time loop

“If I can’t have you…”

Cardiovascular collapse

Allergic reaction

Erased from existence

Dead all along

Dying alone

Gunshot

Blood from the mouth

Patient zero

Old age

Overdose

Fatal Weakness

Assassinated

Infection

Suffocation

One moment stretched into a thousand

Origin story gone wrong

Area 51 raid

Trapped in a tiny space

Poison

Hanahaki / Hanakanjo / Hanauso

Tenshibyou

Kousekibyou

Shinshoubyou

Bouaishoukougun

Hoshinamidabyou

Death by ordinary illness

Hit and run

Starvation

Stroke

War

Cancer

Mercy Killing

Plane crash

Brain death

Fireworks

Death by seduction

Death bed confession

Organ Transplant

Their Legacy Is continued

Bound By Fate

Running out of time

Can’t breathe

Apocalypse

Shot down

Sepsis

Saving Throws – DnD

CPR

Self-harm

Smoke inhalation

Death by coconut

“Help me!”

Climbing accident

Blood-stained tiles

“You weren’t meant to be there”

“I love you���

“No… not like this”

Dug their own grave

Undead

Bees

The AO3 Curse

Deathly kiss

Going through hell

Meeting at the gates

Return from Hiatus

"watch out for the flying blades!"

5+1

Roofie

Left for dead

Strapped to a bomb

Hunger games

Zombification

Order 66

Aneurism

Executed

Lobotomy

Murder on the dance floor

Come to terms with death

“It’s okay”

Keeps dying

Letting go

Coma

Appendicitis

Neuromuscular blockade

Unfriendly pet

Explosion

Aftershock

Takotsubo cardiomyopathy

Faking their own death

Post traumatic amnesia

Schrödinger's paradox

Arbitrary hilarious death

Lack of Oxygen

High altitude

Diving deep

180 - the character becomes the killer

Angel of death

"You're going down with me!”

Never got to say goodbye

Graphic gore

Haunted

Calamity

The end of the world

Immortalized

Uploaded to the server

Reincarnated

Deleted

Sheep in wolves' clothing

Electrocuted

Adrenaline crash

911

Alternate universe ending

Radioactive

Acting on instinct

Collapses

“I miss you…”

Those left behind

Wind phone

Life support

Time Paradox

Temporary character death

Death during childbirth

PTSD

Cannibalism

Nightmares

Life flashing before your eyes

… Needs a hug

Headcanon

Returning home

Internal bleeding

Death of the universe

Empath

Relapse

Last person alive

“Sorry I have already tried and failed at it.”

“I told you so”

Should have seen it coming

Bad Aim

Forgotten

“Kill me instead…”

Warning shot

Canon died a brutal yet Necessary death

On the run

Miscarriage

Not guilty

Knocked over by the wind

Killed by a garden gnome

“Did you fall? Or did you let go…?”

Crushed

Bleeding from the ears

Hallucinogen

Buried alive

Blue screen of death

Killed by loved one

Big Bang

Intestinal obstruction

Silence is Going Extinct

Experimental treatment

Horseback riding

Seizure

Radiation

Tetanus

Short Bowl syndrome

Body snatchers

Conscious decomposition

One Chip Challenge

withered away

Detective AU

cat and mouse

Siren calls

SWAT

Chili

Invincible

Cloned

Don’t realize they’re dead

Moments taken for granted

Schadenfreude

Creepypasta

Expired medication

Deal with the Devil

Picking from a different challenge/Event

Heat stroke

Clone farm

Blood clot

ischaemic bowel disease

organ harvesting

extinct

Hernia

necrotizing enterocolitis

Death by unexpected illness

Stillbirth

School shooting

Postpartum infection

Insulin shock

Anatomic hemispherectomy

Emergency Surgery

Euthanasia/assisted suicide

Do not resuscitate

Social media challenge

Cotard's syndrome

Total Laryngectomy

Hospice care

Coin locker baby

Safe Haven baby box

A leap of faith

Drawn out death

Filicide

Reborn

narcolepsy with cataplexy

Devils breath

The fault in our stars

Five feet apart

What if the bad guy, wasn’t the bad guy?

What if the Hero wasn’t really good?

Miraculous recovery

Hallucinations

Plague inc evolved

“You Shall Not Pass!”

stuck in a chimney

fallen in wet cement

Monsters

the death of a streak

Carbon Monoxide poisoning

Transfusion Reaction

Meningitis

Forest fire

Sims death

Impaled

Epilepsy

Heart attack

Death by ball pit

Brain mass on the celling

Bursting

Ransom

Brain worms

Covered in someone else’s blood

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder

Mirror verse

We are all replaceable

What if this was your last fanfic?

Fleeting Immortality

Stunt Double

Uno Reverse

Death confession

Dying on your own terms

Murder confession

“Can you forgive me?”

"I'll be right here when you return”

Nangijala

Tunnel Vision

Paying your respects

[bsins]

Close Call pt.2

Pairing: Hawks x Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, Hawks is a slight yandere if you squint

Notes: not beta proofed, english is not my first language there might be mistakes. Yes, this needed a part 2.

Part 1

When Hawks assured you were sound asleep, he went out again. He wasn’t supposed to be patrolling right now, he was off duty for the night. He wasn’t even in uniform, but Takami isn’t one to let go of something, no.

So, based on your description back in the hospital, he found the asshole who dared to hurt the love of his life, that and the fact that he had your bag still with him, it wasn’t hard to recognize, it had a lot key-chains you have collected for every time someone in the agency gifted one to you and the little detail that hawks had paid for that bag as a birthday gift for you last year.

The thief was rummaging through your stuff, a pencil case, some notebooks, your ipad, cosmetic case, keys, snacks, your wallet. So they didn’t even hear when the hero landed right behind them, not until a hand was placed on their shoulder.

It wasn’t even a hard fight, the thief was left on the ground barely breathing and bloody and Hawks was standing untouched, gathered your stuff and left back to your apartment.

The plan was to hide your bag and give it back to you in the agency tomorrow, take a shower and pretend nothing happened. But he found you sitting up in the bed and rubbing your eyes when you made eye contact.

“Y/N! Amazing news, the police found the thief and got your bag back, so they called me to pick it up for you!” He pretended, like he was trained to do.

“Tell me you didn’t kill him” you looked deadpan at him, you knew him, and you hated that he put on a facade.

“What?!”

You pointed at your own cheek, Keigo brought his hand to his face and then looked at the point of his fingers stained with blood.

“You would be a pretty bad serial killer”

“I’m sorry, I just… I couldn't let that go, I mean, mugging you wasn’t even what made me mad, but the fact that he hurt you, and I didn’t do anything”

“keigo” He didn’t realize he was looking down until you placed your hand on top of his chest “We already talked about this, it wasn’t your fault, you can’t beat yourself for it”

“I know, but you barely need me in situations like this, and the one time you need a hero no one was there, I wasn’t there”

You took the bag from his hand and placed it on the bed, and then took his clean hand in yours.

“I want to make you feel like my top priority, because you are. I love you so much, that even if it’s just a tiny scratch, I’m going to be mad at myself because it happened”

“You already do that, you make feel special every single day, and you don’t need to prove anything”

In this exact moment he knew you did something to him, a witch spell or something, because it wasn’t normal for him to feel so mad when he looked at the gauze in your forehead.

“But-”

“No, don’t”

“At least let me comfort you, it is unfair that you are the one hurt and you are comforting me” He kissed your hand letting himself feel all the emotions that you provoked in him.

“Oh keigs, I’m going to comfort you any day, you deserve it”

“Na-ah, later. You are now going to be pampered for the rest of the week” and his diva side came back. He tried to kiss your forehead but you stopped him with a hand on his lips.

“please, wash the blood out first”

[trashcanfills]

My Hero Academia Yandere Stain Headcanons

Oh ho here we go. To be honest I’m kinda eh about how I wrote this but I bet some of you thirsty fuckers would still love getting more Stain content anyway so

Stain as a Yandere, I would say is an even more terrifying man as compared to his usual, simply because his obsession with a darling will severely cloud his judgement and perspective.

I see Stain taking interest in a kind darling, since he’s someone who is obsessed with heroism. It likely starts off really small, like an innocent helpful gesture to someone, a kind word to a downtrodden soul, a sweet angelic expression on their face when they take care or aid a person in need. Stain just so happened to be a witness to that small moment. Maybe while he was strolling along in disguise, or while stalking and hunting for targets. But what he’s doing doesn’t matter once he notices YOU.

He sees you, a pure soul among the indistinguishable masses and for that one moment he’s struck by admiration and awe. It’s not that often do you see a citizen taking initiative to help someone out. Stain usually reserves judgements strictly for heroes due to the nature of their work, and ignores citizens because they are just the bystanders. To see a citizen with such a heroic nature…well you have certainly piqued his interest.

Stain starts to look into you a bit more after that, simply to understand what you are like. This interest and curiosity starts to grow deeper into an unhealthy obsession as he takes to stalking you on his free time.

He thinks he knows you so well, when it’s actually him creating an idealised version of you, one that’s encompasses the traits of a perfect hero. Anything about you will likely be reframed into that idealised picture Stain has projected onto you, no matter what. You working as a Hero? Clearly, one of the good ones in the industry filled with fakes that’s on par with All Might. You being a villain? You still work with kind intentions despite the role you have been forced into by cruel circumstances. How noble! Just an ordinary citizen? Oh what a humble and modest person you are to not pursue the fame, simply satisfied enough to help others with your small actions. How is it that such a sweet and beautiful soul like you exists here?

At first, Stain believes that he could be content with watching and protecting you from afar, like a secret guardian. Just to make sure you are safe, and that your kind and pure nature remains untainted. Then, he develops feelings, and his mind wanders…what it be like to hold you, to talk with you, to bask in your presence, to hear your sweet voice calling his name, to make love to you and worship you…

Plus, he sees how you get on with your daily routine, and sometimes seeing the way you get treated or brushed off by the people around you enrages him. They don’t appreciate you and your efforts. They take advantage of your kind nature for their selfish wants. They hurt you and talk you down, as if you aren’t trying your best to help out. Absolutely despicable. Stain practically seethes in anger and envy over those who are lucky to even be in the same space near you, yet not cherish the sweet wonderful person you are.

That’s when Stain comes up with the plan to kidnap you. He can try to claim that he did it for you, to keep you safe from the dangers of the world out there that seems to hurt you, but it’s also partially because of his own selfish desire to have you around.

It will be sudden and quick once Stain abducts you from the safety of your home to a safer, secure and unknown location. He breaks in, uses his quirk on you and hauls you off in the dark of the night, whether or not you are awake or asleep. He is practical to an extent and acts immediately to avoid wasting any time.

Stain keeps you locked up there, doing his best to accommodate for you while you stay with him. He loves you and thinks the world of you, but he is aware you won’t feel the same way. You would be scared and distrustful since he just kidnapped you. That doesn’t matter. Stain is going to take his time to gain your trust because he genuinely cares for you, and wants you to be safe and happy with him, even though the way he goes about it is fucked up. He knows love can’t be forced, so he is willing to be patient with you for as long as he lives.

As much as Stain thinks of you highly, he’s not going to swayed much into letting you go, no matter how much you beg and cry for it. Can’t you see that the outside world is too dangerous and that he’s trying to protect you from it? Don’t you realise how people around you have been exploiting your naive and kind nature for their greedy selfish needs? He’s only acting as your saviour.

He does his best to respect your wishes and make you feel comfortable. He’s not THAT much of a prick and has a sense of decent morals. That doesn’t mean he will ever let you go. That’s the one wish he won’t ever grant you.

[amusedyan]

Hero Killer Stain pwease?

Yay, a challenge!

Thanks for the request, lovely!

I’m on a bit of mythology kick atm, so I present an eros/psyche inspired blurb.

There were flowers on your doorstep again when you got home.

You knew what that meant.

You didn’t lock the door, and you didn’t turn any lights on, despite the dark.

You ate, you showered, you slipped into bed and you waited.

The front door opened and you closed your eyes obediently.

You knew the rules.

The smell of blood preceded him, choking you and making your nose itch. His footsteps were slow and heavy. You heard as he put his weapons down, took off his boots, his knives, his pouches.

When he slipped into bed with you and buried his face in your neck, it took everything in you not to scream.

“I missed you, my love.”

There was a new dead hero on the news, obviously his work.

He always came to you after.

“I wish you could see me,” he purred, “but I can’t trust you just yet.”

[wickedyan]

Hero Killer Stain with fem! reader please?

I had a lot of fun with this!

Warnings: Knives, violence, yandere character

Character- Hero Killer Stain/Akaguro Chizome

-

“My sweet, little hero…” his deep voice murmured into yourear, hot breath raising gooseflesh over your neck and arms. He circled aroundyou, eyes intensely examining your body, well, whatever he could see in thedull light casted from the streetlight.

He had you cornered in the alleyway, the large knife he wascarrying being the only thing stopping you from escaping. You had heard of him,the Hero Killer: Stain. Being a hero in his presence was almost guaranteeddeath, unless he somehow judged you as someone worth living.

“I knew I would see you here. As a hero you must know aboutthe evil that lurks in the darkness of these alleys,” he sneered, eyes neverleaving your form.

He leaned in close, sucking in a long breath through whatyou assumed was his nose. “Oh, my sweet hero. You’re wearing my favouriteperfume! You must’ve known that we would be meeting on this night.”

You held your ground as the sharp point of his knife prickedyour neck, not enough to tear away at skin, only to threaten.

“Why have you targeted me, villain?”

The hero killer chuckled, “Ahh! I’m not a villain, sillyhero, I am a vigilante! But that’s alright, you’ll find that I’ll be veryforgiving with you…”

Your brows furrowed, “Hero killer, why have you stopped myon my nightly patrolling?”

He slid in front of you, deadly knife pulled away from yourthroat, only for him to wrap his arms around you, the knife pressed to the napeof your neck. “You… you’re a true hero, helping innocent civilians with a smilejust like All Might. You help people to help people and not for the fame ormoney that comes with it. You are worthy, you must be protected from the Leagueof Villains who wish to kill the Symbol of Peace—,” he pulled his arm down,dragging the knife through your arm and shushing your squeal of pain, “—and Iwill be the one to protect you.”

[danishpastri]

TW: KIDNAPPING AND STALKING

Thinking about Yandere!Stain tying you up. Each one of your limbs is tied to a post on each corner of a bed.

You were simply sleeping in bed, in your home, when, all of a sudden, you found yourself in some random bed in a place you didn’t recognize. You were panicking of course, and your panic only rose when you saw a man whom you’d never seen before in your life.

“Who are you?!” You yell, tugging at the rope the binds you. You whimper, fear rising in your stomach as you see that grin on his face.

“Don’t worry, Darling. You’ll love me soon enough. I’ve been watching you.” He coos, running a hand along your face, “My sweet boy… I know so much about you, and I can’t wait for you to know about me too.” He hummed, moving away.

He stared out into the dark hallway in front of you. It looked fairly run down, almost like it was abandoned. Yet the room you were in was really well kept. It was as if he did all this for you. Eugh, your stomach turned.

“Do you like your room?“ he asked, running his fingers along the paint on the wall, “I did it all for you. I knew what you’d like, so I customized it exactly how you wanted.” He smiled, turning back to you, “We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

He ran his hand through your hair, “I have so many games to play with you.”

[yandere-mha]

Ok so this is a pretty dark topic, so I totally get it if you’ve gotta skip it, but I was wondering what Stain and Aizawa would do/how they would feel if they caught their darling (after having lived with them for a while) in the middle of a (failed) suicide attempt? Very very grim bonus points if they’re using something of their yandere’s (like Aizawa’s capture weapon or one of Stain’s knives) to kill themselves?

Okay so I really want to do this for both of these characters, but I wrote Stain, got overly ambitious, and now I’m falling asleep. I’ve decided that I’m going to write Aizawa’s scenario for this tomorrow if you guys are interested in that (let me know pls). I know I’m getting annoying saying this but I’m sorry if that disappoints you fuioejrugsi.

Also I know this is short and I’m going to bed early but I’ve been working all day please don’t be mad :,(

Edit: Pssst the Aizawa part 2 of this request is right here!!

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, ABUSE, MENTAL ILLNESS, KIDNAPPING, BODY HORROR, BLOOD, SELF HARM (?) /CUTTING.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

You made sure to make as little noise as possible, the feeling of dread filling your lungs, thumping in your ears, and clouding your vision with every audible creak or click you made as you slowly turned the handle to the bathroom door, cringing at the groaning of the rusted hinges as you inched it open. You clutched the handle of the serrated dagger with a vice grip in your trembling hand as you carefully placed one foot into the tub. You pause, asking yourself why you were so nervous. Stain said that he wouldn’t be home until later and he hadn’t yet noticed the absence of one of his overused knives. Still, you felt your heart try to break through your ribcage as you shifted the rest of your body into the bathtub and got comfortable, laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling with your hands resting on your midsection. 

You were so tired of feeling like this. The foreboding tension that constantly consumed your entire being was comparable to that of lobster seconds away from being dropped into a boiling pot of water. Your hair was turning white and your physical and mental health was declining by the day. This was a hell you were not made to suffer you considered, becoming utterly numb. When you lifted your forearm to your face, you briefly wondered if you would be more tortured in death than even in life.

You had already swiped Stain’s knife and you knew that he would be angry when he realized this, leaving no ounce of mercy for you. You pushed your fear of the unknown down with your fear of the lingering monster who invaded every crevice of your being, knowing in your heart that your fate was now sealed. It was too late to turn back now. Purgatory itself would be better than this.

With an expressionless face, you lightly pressed the edge of the knife into the pressure point located on your elevated wrist, preparing to slide it downward.

You let out a sharp gasp of shock as you felt a disembodied hand seize your wrist and twist your hand backward into an unnatural position, eliciting a grotesque sound akin to that of a soda can being crushed. This was followed by a shooting, nauseating pain that spread all the way up to the side of your face and into your scalp. You cried out in agony and stunned terror as you dropped the knife into your lap and gazed upon your now pretzel-like joint.

A large hand slaps itself onto your shrieking face, covering the entire surface and muffling your bawling. A wretched, disfigured face warped by unholy rage shifts itself into your line of sight, being close enough as to make out the demon from between between his long fingers currently obscuring your vision. You feel a huff of air on your cheek mixed with the metallic scent of blood as he opens his maw to speak.

“I know you!” He roared. “You didn’t think I knew you’d do this? I did!”

His red eyes bug out of his head and his entire being fills with the foul aura of bloodlust. You have never seen him like this before and suddenly you can’t  feel the pain in your abused hand as you look on in terror. The air in your lungs deflate and you feel pinned to the porcelain surface of the tub as a seemingly tangible wave of murderous intent presses down on you.

The enraged beast reclaims his dagger from your lap, slicing your upper thigh in a motion too quick for the human eye to register. Before you’re even able to react, he forcibly latches his mouth onto the wound, hungrily lapping up the blood seeping out as you hear the remaining liquid drip down the drain in a disturbing cacophony of slurping noises. You want to scream but you’re unable to do so as the weakened muscles around your lungs become heavy and no sound comes out. Your body slackens onto the hard surface as if you were dead. 

You wish he’d killed you as your ears pick out the indistinct sounds of chiding and accusations of guilt as you survey the red liquid dripping from his lips and onto your paralyzed chest. This is eventually overpowered by the sound of buzzing in your head, like the sound of static from a television. Your heavy eyes flutter to a close as your head lolls to the side. You’re so tired you wish he would just let you sleep.

[p3achysuki]

Woohoo! Can you continue the Stain one? Maybe after the kidnapping and many escape attempts, Stain had enough and has some hate sex

yEs more stain>:) sorry it’s short :,) I had to do some writing for my class.

Warning: minor NONCON/DUBCON, reader is being held captive/ unprotective sex/

“F-Fuck! Stain stop!” You groaned out as you felt Stain’s hips snap into yours. “This is punishment little mouse—“ he growled out as he felt your cunt pulse around his cock for the second time. If you didn’t want this then your body wouldn’t be reacting this way. Your pussy wouldn’t be clenching on his cock so hard if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t be moaning like a bitch in heat if you didn’t want this.

Yet here you were arching your back, tongue hanging out of your mouth with your eyes rolled back like a little slut. You weren’t even paralyzed anymore you could’ve shoved him off, but yet you didn’t. He chuckled “are you really enjoying my cock that much?” He cooed into your ear making you let out a soft mewl in response. You didn’t want to admit, but fuck was stain’s cock huge.

You could feel his cock rub against your g-spot every time he thrusted his hips into yours turning you into a babbling mess. At this moment you completely forget about Tensei you felt a third orgasm already building up, you shouldn’t be feeling this good and aroused. You kept trying to distract yourself, but Stain had other plans. He snaked his hand down to your clit and started rubbing it gently.

“A-Ah! wait don’t—“ he didn’t stop he continued to pound his cock into your cunt while continuing to stimulate your clit. You buried your face into the bedsheets trying to stop every moan and cry that spilled from you. Stain pulled his cock all the way out of your cunt only leaving the tip inside before thursting his cock all the way deep inside of you it only took that to push you over the edge.

Hot tears spilled from your eyes as you felt your orgasm rip through your body. Stain let out husked moan as he feels your pussy milking his cock he felt his cock twitch inside of you he already knew he was about to cum yet he doesn’t pull out and cums deep inside of you. He didn’t even know if you were even on birth control, but that didn’t matter to him if you got pregnant then it would be your problem not his. He pulls his cock out and sees his cum ooze from your pussy your hips were still trembling.

He licked his lips “I thought you didn’t want this little mouse.” You looked up at him with a glare “I hate you.” You spat at him “glad the feeling is mutual.” He says with a smirk.

[theoperaticonevol2]

“Hello little hero ❤….”

I’m a huge simp for Stain, and an even bigger simp for heroines x villains, so why not? :P

I think I’ll call their ship ‘red scarves’ or 'scarf buddies’ or something what do y'all think?

[sleepybutwriting]

Headcanons for: “My Hero Academia”

_____

Stain falls for pro hero darling

_____

Pairing:  Stain x Reader  

Request: “can i ask for headcanons of pro hero with stain yandere for them? - Anonymous”

Notes: Ooo my first yandere stain request. I hope I did him justice. Yandere themes are ahead.

_____

You caught his attention because of your selflessness

You were so pure and he could tell just by watching you that you were a hero for true reasons

You were nothing like the other false heroes

He would continue to observe you from afar before he even thinks of making a move

He’s a pretty mature yandere

Always patient, just waiting for when he feels the timing is right

Constantly wants you to join his side, but will never force you

He won’t see it necessary to kidnap you at first, but that doesn’t mean he won’t

He may do it because he doesn’t want you to be corrupted by the people around you, so he’ll see it as a way of protecting you

He never has to hurt you to keep you in line (not that he ever would. The last thing he would want to do would be to harm you in any way)

The glare he sends you whenever you misbehave is enough to keep you out of trouble

“Why can’t you see that I’m doing this for your own good?”

[karumashadowchicken]

Yandere Stain ( Chizome Akaguro ) x oc ( Karma )

Yandere Stain, -Chapter One-

Karma sits on the chair that Stain pulled out for her. She stares at his face, her eyes landing on long and rigid tongues. “Do you like the food?” stain asked, hoping to seem less threatening. Karma isn't threatened, instead she is mesmerized by his looks. Stain starts to feel tense seeing her stare mersyily at him. “I could grade cheese with your jawline~” Karma smiled at him, winking. He just sits there awkwardly. He avoids eye contact. Karma always had a funny senseof humour, ormaybe she just diden't know how to be funny. He’s not even sure why he’s here. She always makes him feel plush. Karma smiled again asking Stain more questions, “So Chizome… What's your favorite colour?” Stain thinks for a second, he didn't really want to respond… but he still did, “Red”. Karma smirked “my Favorite colour is you” Stain just sat there awkwardly. Why was he even there? Karma felt the blush fill her cheeks. “You are amazing.” Stain just cringes, was she talking to him or the tongue? God why was she still weird. “ I murder people..” Karma smiles, “ I know~” They sit there in silence. “So, what do you do in your free time, besides the whole murder and licking people thing?” Stain just cringes.. What was he supposed to say? Stain looks away, “ I bully Heros online…” Karma bursts out laughing. “Wait, really?” Stain just nodded his head, “ Yeah.” Stain and Karma had gone on multiple dates. Stain really did love Karma, more than anything in the world actually. He was almost at te point of being yandere for her. He had killed many people who he found liked her. He would do anything for her, really. He was suprized when he first bumped into her. She was perfect, and when they started talking. It was like magic, he was in love after the first conversation. Stain felt his heart race like it once had. Karma truly wasperfect. They way stands of hair feelinfrontof her eyes, they way her soft hands tucked the stand back behind her ears. They way her eyes sparkled when he talked paassionety about himself.They we way she sparkled in the light, like the only beautiful thingin this world of filth. She was more than just a beautiful, funny, kind, caring, quirky and perfect woman. She was lik-No. she is the last beautiful folwer in a feild of dying one. Shes like the last gummy worm in the package. She like he center piece chocolate in any special gift. She was the light, his light. He had to protect herno matter what. He thought it would be dificult to win her over, or at least worm his way into her life. Although, it wasen't he thought. They have been dating for 5 months now, and theiron their 4th date. Karma say she prefures to just stay home and watch movies, but sometimes he convinves her to go out. After all, he needs to make sure EVERONE knows that she is HIS.

[trashcanfills]

Could you do yandere Stain with an s/o who finally broke off a toxic relationship with her manipulative mother and she's feeling really guilty and sad that she cut her mother out of her life? How would he comfort her?

Ok first of all djjxjsjjskakka sorry for taking so long to get to you I am a horrendous procrastinator.

Second, you have made me interested in making a yandere stain post so thanks a lot. That might come out at some point.

On to the ask!

Yandere Stain with s/o that has a toxic mom

Ok first of all how is your mom not dead yet????

If you dont rmb my last post of my Stain relationship Headcanons, I talked about how he is likely to be overprotective with his s/o

And Yandere Stain???? Dude, he just kills off anyone who has the audacity to even LOOK at his darling with bad intentions. To someone who has hurt them?

EXECUTION

The only situation I can see your mom would still be alive is that you told him not to, and even then its still iffy cus this man does his own thing

Ok but lets say he doesn’t actually off your mom

When you appear to be in a less than stellar mood, Stain is going to be concerned and woRRIED.

Are you alright? What happened? Who does he need to kill?

When you explain about your toxic relationship with your mother and how you feel guilty and upset abt cutting her off, he’s going to be so pISSED at your mom

To treat his darling like that? And USE them? Absolutely despicable. Will not tolerate.

Stain would be quick to tell you that you shouldn’t feel guilty about cutting such a horrible person out from your life. She was clearly bad and undeserving of your love and attention. He would be ecstatic to know that you manage to cut ties with her, that you won’t get abused and taken advantage of by that horrendous woman anymore.

He would hold you in his arms, pressing you close to him and assuring you how this is nowhere your fault whatsoever, how it’s a GOOD thing that you decide to stop contacting her, so stop feeling guilty or upset! He might bring up how your mom had treated you previously if he has the knowledge, as to further convince you of his point that this decision you made was the right one if you still doubt yourself.

Once Stain goes out after spending that wonderful time comforting you, he’s going straight to where your mom lives, either kill her or threaten her to never interact with you again. Likely kill. Most probably kill.

Such a disgusting piece of filth shouldnt have treated his darling like that in the first place. This is why he has to protect you, to keep you safe, away from the clutches of nasty bad guys out there.

Don’t be surprised if he starts isolating you from people after that. Stain has seen how you have been treated badly by someone close to you. He’s not going to take the chance of you getting hurt again by anyone.

[amusedyan]

Stain? Uwu (write anything you want!!! You’re writing is amazing and so are your ideas!!)

Sweet sweet freedom! Thanks so much! I can’t take credit- you guys have great requests, and Mod Kleos gave me the idea for this one, so thanks cowboy!

You never would have pegged Stain to be a cuddler.

To be fair, would anyone?

The man stank of blood and grease, had a figure like a ninja scarecrow and a passion for knives.

Stain was a terrifying man, grinning, noseless and dangerous.

But some nights he’d come home and pin you to the couch, only to curl up on or around you like a satisfied cat.

You hated that satisfaction, because that only meant one more dead hero on the news.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Yandere Stain request for @joreykachan 💋

He had been following you for awhile now, he had taken interest in you. Always knew when you left work, always knew youre days off, when you got out late . Everything. What did not know. Was that you had a boyfriend.

When he saw you kiss someone that wasint him he... he lost it. He had to take you away . You were just for him , no one else. So he waited for the right moment.

He waited till you had to stay at work late , you would be tired and not really aware of whats going on around you. He stalked you for awhile , watched you rub youre eyes and talk on the phone .

He jumped down from a roof top snatching you up and running off into the night in a flash. It all happened so fast you had no idea what just happened. You had youre wrists and ankles tied together and you were in a poorly looking house.

“Youre mine .. finally. After watching you for so long.”

“What is this? Let me go!!!”

“Im never letter you go!!! The first thing im going to do is kill that boyfriend you have! How dare you keep such a thing from me !!!!”

You were shaking in youre suit watching this villain yell and scare you . You wanted to leave. But he wasint letting you go any time soon.