#yandere jonathan x reader

[thornybubbles]

JJBA Yandere Scenario: Jealousy (The JoJos: Jonathan, Joseph, and Jotaro)

NOTE: Going to make a part 2 to this including Josuke, Giorno, and Johnny. The weird issue I was having with this post seems to have gone away. Though if anything looks weird or incomplete, let me know, please.

Jonathan

Jonathan's been through a lot. Thanks to Dio, he's spent much of his childhood feeling alone and unwanted. Dio stole his father's love, turned everyone in town against him, brutally killed poor Danny, and even drove his beloved Erina away from him. You’re the only one that stayed. You're the only one that continued to stand up for him when everyone else gave into Dio. 

So that's why when he sees you looking at your friend with eyes filled with such fondness and adoration, it stirs up a dark anger in him that is so intense that it frightens him.

Jonathan does an excellent job of reigning in his emotions. You will only see that same sweet smile he always has, but you won't see the way his smile drops into a scowl as he excuses himself and turns away from you and your friend. You won't see the way he grips the doorknob so hard his fingers leave dents in the brass. 

Jonathan hates the way he feels. He has no right to try to lay claim to you. He will just have to accept that fact that you will only ever see him as a friend. So that was that. He was going to lose you,too, and then he really will be alone. His anger dissipates and he goes into a depressive state that lasts for weeks. During the day he wanders far away from his father's property and into the forest. He can't bring himself to go into town for fear of seeing you and your friend together somewhere. Staying home is out of the question. He can't take Dio's constant questions. Even though they've started acting more civil with each other, Jonathan can't bring himself to ever fully trust his adoptive brother. Dio seems far too interested in his relationship with you for his liking. 

"Why don't I see you with your little friend anymore, JoJo?" Dio asks. "You seemed so close as children. Did something happen?" 

Jonathan isn't sure but he thought he heard a hint of glee in Dio's voice as he asked that. 

Jonathan makes an effort not to snap at him. It's not his fault that this is happening. Not this time anyway.  

"Sometimes people grow apart when they grow up. The responsibilities of adulthood can distract one from childhood friendships. That's just the way life is. And if you'll excuse me, I don't wish to speak on the matter anymore." Is Jonathan's reply before he exits the room.

Dio doesn't miss the misery in Jonathan's voice and he revels in it. 

"If you say so, JoJo." 

Jonathan ends up spending most of his time in the part of the forest where the two of you would play games, tell stories, and just laugh and chase each other for hours. Erina would join you sometimes… before she started avoiding him.

And now he lost you, too. 

Of course. Why should he ever be allowed to be happy? Even without Dio being the cause of his misery, it seemed life itself was against him. He slumped to the ground and propped himself against a tree. He was sure his father would scold him for getting dirt on his clothes but that was nothing new. His father was always scolding and shaming him for something. That is, when he wasn’t singing Dio’s praises.  

Jonathan sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the tree trunk. He wasn't going to think about that. He wanted to think about you and the short time you spent together. He would think about the time he tried to scare you with a bug only to have you laugh at him and hold the bug in your hand like it was nothing. He wanted to think about the time you fell out of the tree you were climbing, got up, brushed yourself off, and went right back to climbing. You didn't cry at all. He wanted to think about the time you looked Dio right in the eyes and told him to shove it where the sun doesn't shine (mind you in a much more ladylike manner). 

You were both a gentle hand and a fist of strength, perfectly balanced in every way. You gave him a sense of hope and courage in one of the darkest times of his life. He could sit here and bask in the warmth of your memory until he just stopped living. That would have to be enough. He couldn't have you, but nothing could rob him of his memories of you. Not even Dio. 

He must have dozed off at some point because he found himself being shaken awake. He may have been imagining it, but the person shaking him sounded an awful lot like you. 

"JoJo! JoJo! Wake up!" 

Jonathan's eyelids flew open. It was you!

“Oh… what?” he rasped. His voice was hoarse and his throat felt like it was on fire. He didn't care though. You were here with him and that's all that mattered. 

“Why… are you… here?” He asked, genuinely confused by your presence. Shouldn't you be with your friend?

“Why am I here?” you repeat. “Why do you think? I came to find you, you ninny!” 

Jonathan just blinks up at you in confusion. 

“I haven't seen you in weeks and when I asked your father about you he told me that you've been acting strangely. He said that you wandered the house at night instead of sleeping and that you haven't been eating. So I started looking for you and I found you out here sleeping in the woods!" 

“O-oh…” Jonathan couldn't say more than that. He didn't really know how to answer. That, and he felt horrible. He was achy all over and his head was hurting. 

You placed a hand on his forehead and he froze at your touch, mind going numb.

“Jojo, you're burning up! How long have you been sitting in the cold like this?” You asked. 

Was it cold? Honestly Jonathan hadn't even noticed that the temperature had dropped. It was already night time. Had he really been out here for that long? 

“Why have you been doing this to yourself?” You ask, your voice hitched with worry. “Has Dio been bullying you again?” 

Jonathan said nothing. He just shook his head. 

“Then why?! Was it something else?” You ask. “Was… was it something I did?” 

Jonathan caught something in your eyes when you asked him that. It was something that opened up a very dark place inside of him. Guilt. You felt guilty. You were blaming yourself for his pitiable state. 

"I just... I didn't want to interfere." He says.

“Interfere?” You ask. “Interfere with what? What are you talking about?” 

“You… and your friend.” He says. “I see the way you look at him…”

Your face flushed. 

"I-I don't l-look at him that way!" You stuttered out in embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to hide it.” He says, trying to speak up. The action was putting a strain on his voice, making it sound worse… just as he intended. 

“JoJo…” you start to say, but he doesn't let you finish. 

"Listen... I never told you how I felt, because I thought it would put a strain on our friendship... We've been friends for a long time, haven't we? You were there for me for some of the most difficult times of my life and I adore you for it... It's because I love you so much that I'm willing to let you be happy with someone else... even if it means I'll never see you again . I just want you to be happy …” He ended with a very real, but perfectly timed cough. 

You grabbed him by his flushed face and made him look at you. 

“Don't say things like that, JoJo!” you cry. “You make it sound like I plan to abandon you!” 

He grasped one of your hands weakly. “I don't matter, dearest. I told you, if he makes you happy…” 

"That's enough!" you said sternly, placing a finger over his lips and silencing him. "I don't want you to say such things anymore!" 

Your face was etched in anger, but your eyes glistened with unshed tears. It was working. As much as he hated stooping to such deplorable tactics like guilt-tripping, but by God, it was working! He could hate himself for it later. Right now, he was basking in your attention.

You removed your finger from his lips and he smiled up at you in a state of mindless bliss. 

"Yes, ma'am." he rasped, before going into a coughing fit. 

You let him go and stood up. He whined pathetically at the loss of your touch. You assumed it was due to his sickness. You got to your feet with a determined look on your face. 

“I'm going back to get your father and some of the servants. They're going take you back home so you can get some rest. Then I'm going into town to fetch a doctor.” You stated. 

Then you leaned down and planted a kiss on Jonathan's warm forehead. Jonathan could've died right then and there and died happy. 

"Don't move from that spot, JoJo!" You said as you hiked up your skirt and began running towards the Joestar Mansion. 

“I'm not going anywhere.” JoJo tried to call after you but his voice was too hoarse and you were already out of earshot. 

"And neither are you..." He added under his breath. 

 Joseph

While Jonathan tries to hide his jealousy, Joseph puts his on full display, but he plays it off as a joke. 

"So you're going out with him, again!?" he says with a pout. 

"Yes, JoJo. I have other friends besides you, you know." You say, tired of having the same old argument every time you go out with someone that isn't him. 

Joseph whines like a child and plops down on your couch. He crosses his arms and stares at the wall with a sullen expression. 

"I don't have a problem with you having friends, it's just that ever since you've been hanging out with that weirdo you act like I don't even exist! I hardly ever see you anymore!" 

You almost felt sorry for him until he called your friend a weirdo. 

"JoJo! That's enough! I know you don't like him but I won't have you calling my friend names!" you scolded. 

JoJo huffed but continued pouting on the couch in silence. 

"Why do you act like such a child? We have this argument every time I go out with someone else. It's exhausting! It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything!" 

Ouch. Okay, while what you said was true, you didn't have to just blurt it out like it was nothing. Joseph gives you a hurt look before suddenly doubling over in pain. He clutched his chest, fell off the couch and lay on the floor writhing in agony. 

"JoJo! What happened? Are you okay?! JoJo!!" you say in a panic. You drop to your knees next to him. 

"JoJo, tell me what's wrong!" you cry. 

"I don't know!" He groans. "I just suddenly felt a terrible, sharp pain in my heart! I... I think it's the knife you stabbed into it when you said that just now!" 

At the realization that he was faking so he could pick on you, you became furious. 

"JOJO! YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH!!" you shout, slapping him in the shoulder. 

Joseph curls up trying to protect himself from your slaps, but he's giggling the whole time. 

“I thought something was wrong with you, you silly ass!” you shout, a slight sob coming through in your voice. 

Joseph sits up, his grinning face only inches from your own. 

“Ah, so you do care about me!” he teased. 

Your face immediately turned red and you scooted away from him, unable to look at him with him grinning at you like that. 

“Shut up, you pain in the neck.” You mumble feeling shy all of a sudden. 

Joseph was infuriating, but when he teased you like this, you couldn't help but fall for his charms... just a little. Up to this point, you had only ever viewed Joseph as a friend, but lately you've begun to see him in a slightly different light. 

The problem is that Joseph knew that. 

“I'll make a deal with you, JoJo.” You said after regaining your composure. 

“If you quit complaining every time I go out with my other friends, then I'll make it so Saturdays will be the day that I hang out exclusively with you. Does that sound fair?” 

You have Joseph's full attention now. 

“Really?! Just you and me?!!” He asks, getting more and more excited by the minute. 

“So….does this mean… um….” he stutters, looking around nervously as if he isn't sure that he should say what he wants to. 

“Does it mean what?” you ask. 

“If we’re going out every Saturday… and it’s just the two of us… can we say that… we’re dating?” he asks with a hopeful smile. 

Your face flushes again and you look away from him, irritated at how cute he's being right now. 

"Fine." you sigh. "I guess you can say we're dating." 

Joseph lets out a whoop of joy before sweeping you into his heavily muscled arms. 

"Thank you! You won't regret it I swear!" he promises. 

As he pulls you to his chest, you don't see the smug, self-satisfied smirk he has on his face. He's finally got you right where he wants you. It took a while, but he finally got you to like him enough to go out with him. And every Saturday?! This was better than he hoped for! You'll have so much fun hanging around with him that you'll forget all about that weirdo friend of yours.

Check and Mate, darling.

Jotaro

Jealous Jotaro is all cold glares and quiet fury. Every time you and your friend are seen together, Jotaro always seems to be hanging out in the background, staring daggers into the back of your friend's head. You don't know what your friend could've done to earn Jotaro's disdain, but it's very clear that he doesn't want you to be alone with him. The problem is that Jotaro won't tell you anything. Any time you confront him about it you're met with the same response. 

“I just don’t like the guy.” 

You don't understand why and Jotaro never explains. Your friend isn't even a Stand user, so it can't be that he suspects him of being an enemy. 

Your friend may not be a Stand user, but you, unfortunately are. So it takes all of Jotaro's willpower to keep Star Platinum in check when he's around the two of you. Jotaro can feel his Stand's rage stir up any time your friend gets a little too close or handsy with you. There's really nothing suspicious about the way your friend interacts with you. His touches are only of the platonic variety, but each hug, head pat, or playful shove send Jotaro into a silent rage. 

He'll chomp down on his cigarette, nearly biting it in half and almost has an aneurysm from trying to keep Star Platinum from popping out and punching the guy's head off of his shoulders. 

But none of that matters, because Jotaro already has a plan in play. He just needs to be patient and careful. 

For the next few weeks, you start getting an uncomfortable feeling that someone is watching and following you. You often try to find the source of this feeling, frantically looking over your shoulder and seeing no one. You even send your Stand to search around, but it comes back to you shrugging its shoulders after failing to find anyone. You tell Jotaro about it and he gives you a serious, concerned look and tells you to be careful. 

"Just because DIO's out of the picture doesn't mean some of his lackeys aren't still around looking for revenge. Just stay alert and let me know if anything suspicious happens." He says. 

You nod your head and go about your day, casting worried glances into every shadowy corner. 

Jotaro understands your concerns, but he's fully aware of what's really happening, so he's not too worried about it. He watches you until you are out of sight, then he lights a cigarette. He's been thinking about quitting, but he needs the nicotine to clear his head right now. The first part of the plan was taken care of, but he still had work to do. 

A few days later, you come to him with a worried expression. 

“Someone's been in my house.” You tell him before you even say your morning greeting. 

“How do you know?” He asks, instantly alert. 

“My diary's missing.” You tell him.

"Your diary?" he says, curling his lip with a disdainful sneer. 

"Yes!" You say, annoyed with his attitude. "It wasn't in my desk and I can't find it anywhere in my room or anywhere else in the house." 

Jotaro thought for a moment. 

“What did you write in it? You didn't write anything about Egypt did you?” he asked with a serious tone. 

“Of course not! I wouldn't dare! I didn't put anything important in it just in case someone did find it and read it.” you say. 

“Then why would someone want your diary?” He asks. 

"I don't know, JoJo! I ​​just know that I can't find it." You shout, frustrated that he doesn't seem to be taking it seriously. 

“Did you check your locker?” He offers. 

"I don't bring my diary to school, JoJo." You sigh in exasperation. 

Jotaro huffs at your tone. 

"Don't get snappy, I was just asking. Good grief. If you're that worried about it, I'll come by after school and help you look for it." he says. 

You agree to that and go to class feeling a lot better. 

You don't find your diary, but for the next week or two, you do start finding pictures of yourself on your windowsill. Fortunately, none of the pictures are compromising but they are worrying. Whoever took them seems to have been following you all over town and at school. So your feeling about being watched had been right. How your Stand hadn't been able to find your personal paparazzi you didn't know, but Jotaro was going to hear about this. You took the pictures to school to show him. He wasn't happy. 

“Where did you find these?” He demands. 

"On my window sill." You state. "Whoever's stalking me wanted to make sure that I knew it. I'm not gonna wait for their next move. I'm going to take those pictures to the police." 

“Don’t bother.” Jotaro says a little too quickly. 

"Why not? I need to..." 

He cut you off. 

“The police won't be able to do much. Stalking cases are tricky and require a lot more evidence than just a few pictures. We don't even have a suspect, so they won't have anything to go on except for what you tell them.” he says. 

“So what am I gonna do then?” you ask. 

“I'll take care of it.” he says plainly. 

Another few days pass and Jotaro hasn't told you much. You've been worrying and fretting but you know Jotaro wouldn't tell you that he'd take care of it unless he had some kind of plan. Sure enough, you found yourself playing the part of bait while Jotaro followed along behind you in secret. You could spot him every now and then behind parked cars and buildings; black coat fluttering in the wind. It gave you a sense of calm even though you could feel that extra presence behind you. You didn't bother to look behind you. You knew you wouldn't see anything. Finally, just when the tension was getting unbearable, you heard someone yelp and you whirled around to see Jotaro holding your friend up by his collar. 

"Jotaro? What on earth...?" you said, wondering why Jotaro was attacking your friend. Unless... no. It couldn't be!

“Empty your bag.” Jotaro said. It was a command not a request. Your very frightened and confused friend let his book bag drop from his shoulder. Its contents spilled out onto the sidewalk. Among the items were more pictures of you and your diary. 

"It was you!" you shouted, unable to believe your friend could be guilty of something like stalking. 

Your friend tried to defend himself. He tried to convince you that he had no idea how that stuff got in his bag. When Jotaro asked him why he was following you, he just said that he was going to the convenience store to buy some sodas . He didn't even know that it was you in front of him. You weren't buying it and neither was Jotaro. The taller male grabbed your former friend by the hair and forced him to look him in the eyes. 

"I don't know what your game is, but if I catch you anywhere near her again, they'll have to use your dental record to identify you when I'm through with you." 

The statement wasn't a threat or even a promise. It was a guarantee. 

Jotaro dropped the boy to the sidewalk where he scrambled to gather up his things before running for the hills. Jotaro glared after the boy long after he was out of sight. After a moment he turned to you and asked, 

"You alright?" 

"I-ah... no. Not really." you said. 

You couldn't help but think back to all the times Jotaro gave the boy dirty looks whenever the two of you hung out. 

"You knew, didn't you?" You ask. 

“Knew what?” Jotaro says, placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He took a drag off it and blew the smoke into the sky. 

"You knew about him. That's why you said you didn't like him. You knew he was a bad egg from the start." you say. 

Jotaro just shrugs.

"I had a feeling, yeah." 

You rub your hand down your face. 

“Dammit! I should have listened to you. Your gut feelings have never been wrong before. Not back in Egypt and not now. I should've stopped hanging around him the moment you said you didn't like him!” You say with a huff of frustration. 

"Don't beat yourself up about it. You couldn't have known." Jotaro says, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

You stand there, fidgeting. Your emotions are going haywire. You feel betrayed by your friend, angry at yourself for not seeing the signs sooner, and oh so grateful to Jotaro for always being so reliable. 

Jotaro's hand on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“Why don't you come over to my place for dinner. I can get Mom to make that stuff you like.” Jotaro offered. 

"Yeah. That sounds good." you say. 

Jotaro smiles to himself as the two of you begin the walk towards his house. 

That went smoother than he thought it would. It took a little bit of time to set it up but it worked out beautifully. Of course it was him that had been stalking you and taking the pictures. He knew your Stand's abilities and weaknesses like he knew Star Platinum's. It was as easy to avoid its notice as it was for him to avoid yours. Having his Stand get his hands on your diary was even easier. All he had to do was hang around outside your window until you went to sleep and have Star Platinum grab the diary from your desk drawer. Of course he read it. He couldn't help himself. He was delighted to know about your little crush on him. After that, all he had to do was place the pictures on the window sill for you to find. As for framing your deadbeat friend? It was a simple matter of having Star Platinum slip the “evidence” into his bag when no one was looking at the end of the school day. Of course, there was the danger of him finding the diary and the pictures, but what would he say about it? If he brought it to your attention he would essentially be doing Jotaro's work for him. Setting up the “stalker trap” was a little bit tricky, but it was a simple matter of having you walk down a path he knew your friend took on a regular basis. He always went to that particular store to get sodas at that particular time. The rest was child's play.

Jotaro had decided at some point during that 50 day trip that you were his. You had no incentive to join the hunt for DIO at all. You weren’t a Joestar descendant. You weren’t a friend of the family, and Jotaro hadn’t saved your life, so you didn’t owe him anything. You were simply ready and willing to put your life on the line to help a classmate save his mother’s life. That’s all, and that meant something.

Jotaro wasn’t about to hand you over to some wormy little nobody that just showed up out of nowhere. You belonged to him. He already decided. 

[acid-ixx]

lovefool by the cardigans

— series concept ft. soft yandere dc! x bimbo/himbo reader

soft yandere! dc characters x himbo/bimbo/careless reader... who's just a bundle of joy to be with... where all the villains have an agreement to never mess with you, hell even kidnap you occasionally from the arms of the heroes just to hear you rant endlessly about your 'mundane' life as if you weren't just abducted... where the heroes would quite frankly sometimes have to put you in some sort of human leash because you wouldn't literally panic if there's a gun pointed against you...

the urge to make a shitpost/romcom series just because i listened to lovefool by the cardigans... no idea of platonic/romantic but i'm just moving on with the flow... a bit more on the romantic side ig...

i'm going feral at the thought of a wild goose chase with you, because one second you're bundled up in the arms of the justice league, each one of them scheduled to strictly watch over you, another is stationed near the door as they'd be the one to get you anything you want or need— then suddenly you're at a villain's lair that houses all the bad guys and then oops! you accidentally inhaled the scarecrow's fear gas but you're not reacting?! is your mind filled with air...? all your response was a quirk of your eyebrows and a question that's just "is there any signal here? the league told me to call me if i'm in any trouble...?" which then you would quickly take back and instead would smile at them like some goons didn't just threaten you with a knife to your neck just because you screamed, calling the scarecrow's mask a sack of moving, possessed potatoes.

originally, most villains would whisk you away from the arms of your vigilante babysitters but then they discover you're just a bundle of joy who laughs at the shittiest joke anyone could make, who snorts at their 'funny' antics and words, who grins when they take pictures of you to use as bait that you're being held hostage. it kind of goes to the point that their original plans all go to waste and they decide to just, take you all for themselves. they don't even know how you were able to survive being thrown around carelessly by the shoulders of big, muscular men, but they're more jealous at the image of you giggling and running your hands through muscles arms and toned abs; so they took it in themself to be the ones to guide you through your now makeshift room, hoping you would fawn over them with those cute stars in your eyes...

and if you were taken back into the arms of the vigilantes? oh god, the heroes can't even scold you because you'd be already hugging the next person in the room, babbling endlessly about your adventures with the villains and ignoring their seething envy with just how much you brag about how some are "too hot to be evil! i think i can change them!" because why are you talking about some randoms who just kidnapped you for their own gain when you have them right there? no way are you now getting out of their sights, them trying so hard to even distract you from going outside because "it's just too dangerous to be out there, boo! you're safe with us."

and you just nod your head with that toothy grin of your! are you seriously unaware of how much the richest of the rich are willing to pay for just an hour of your already shining presence? hell, you're just too... out of it, to the point you'll be the one who discovers their secret identities just by accidentally noticing details that nobody with functioning thoughts would even think about.

"batman! you must be bruce wayne, right?" you randomly approach him one day, with a foot tapping the floor impatiently. you stare at him like you had made a scientific discovery.

"... how do you know...?"

"'cause you're both hot and rich and whenever i get a feel of mr. wayne's abs, they're the same size as yours—!" and you continue to guess his children's identities all correctly with a quip of how hot they are or how you wish one you were fit and toned enough to have honkers as big as them...

... that night, you're spending it in the batcave with bruce and his children trying their damn best to brainwash you into keeping their identities a secret, to which you reply with a nod and an airheaded smile. but then the moment they remove you from the straps constricting you in a comfy bed, you'll be running off to alfred, ranting about how you can't believe that you guessed their personas right and if he knew it all along too...

huh, guess that's what makes you all the more charming.

a/n: please do comment or send in asks if you're interested in this as much as i am... i wrote this in quick succession and altho i am planning to make this series a shitpost one or a lighthearted romcom one, i rlly want to amp the yandere-ness hehe. it was fun writing this albeit it being written in about 10 minutes or less. ignore the header ill change it soon 🫦

[solelifauna]

When you say the love interest might be worse, does that mean "being mean to reader" wise or "being possessive over the reader" wise?

ERMMM...both I'd say. The love interest for the Werewolf AU is Jon Kent. He's about the same age as the reader and older than Damian by one year (From the time-skip space mission that he went on that aged him). But bro, this boy is fucking nuts.

Yes, Kryptonians aren't werewolves in this universe, but Lois Lane is. And a strong one at that, coming from a military family and all that jazz. So Jon Lane Kent is literally one of the strongest beings on earth, being half-kryptonian and half-werewolf.

Now i know what youre thinking.

But wouldn't Jon also be outcasted from werewolf society/wouldn't the bats not like him cause he's a half-blood?

WRONG!!! Yes, Jon is a half-blooded werewolf, but the other half is Kryptonian, one of the strongest species in the universe. If anything, his breeding makes him a very respected figure and the Bats definitely find him worthy. He and Damian are still the best of friends.

Now Jon's relationship with (Y/n). Yikes. Funnily enough, it was (Y/n) who started crushing on Jon first. She'd see him around the manor often, and she'd watch as he interacted with the Waynes or messed around with Damian. From what she could see, he seemed nicer than her family, so maybe she could be friends with him right? Plus, he's super cute!

And of course, this doesn't end well. I mean, this is a dark au. First off, Superman doesn't quite see humans as equals. Werewolves, they have his respect, and all the other races too. Yes, Clark Kent's adoptive parents were humans, and yes he loved them, but they were weak. Fragile even. And he made sure to instill that teaching in Jon as well.

Did Jon love his grandparents? Absolutely, but that meant that Ma and Pa stayed confined to Smallville and their house. They were too weak, they needed to be protected.

Lois also helped push Werewolf culture onto him as well. Weaker werewolves and humans were subservient to the stronger, and if necessary, could be killed and eaten. Jon didn't quite get the eating part, finding it quite gross actually, until he had his first taste of flesh. And, yikes, the boy was hooked.

In his mind, humans were either things to be taken care of (like pets) or food.

What's even more scary is that he's sweet around his family and friends, but those he deems as lesser? Well, let's just hope you don't catch him in a bad mood or piss him off. Which is why when weak, pitiful, abandoned (Y/n) Wayne comes up to him, he's insulted.

Why on earth did you even think you were worthy of talking to him?

Yes, he's seen you watching them, lurking around the manor, keeping your distance. It was quite annoying actually, he could practically hear your heart leaping out of its chest every time you saw him. He knew your intentions, trying to make friends with him.

He just looked down at you, eyes pooling with something nobody could explain, whilst you smiled at him and made small talk. Or tried to make small talk.

"Damian, should I snap her neck? Or is your family still insistent on the old laws?" Jon says.

You freeze, eyes widening in fear. Ah...you've made a severe lapse in judgment.

So much for a new friend.

"You know what? How 'bout I just go?" You quip nervously before trying to run off.

It's too bad Damian grabs you by the back of your shirt, basically choking you in the process. You let out a strangled noise as your body loses balance and lurches backward. When Damian lets go, your having a mad coughing fit, trying to get as much air as you could into your lungs.

Damian only makes an annoyed sound while Jon watches, a sick type of glee in his eyes. "When the time comes friend, you may feast with us. Now (Y/n), apologize to Jon."

You do not even have to think twice about that. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have approached you, I'm sorry." And at this point, you're crying. (reader is 14 when this happens)

And god doesn't that make Jon smile. He wouldn't deny, that you were pretty (I mean, you do have half of Bruce Wayne's DNA). But as much as he'd consider coveting you, you weren't worth that honor, no, he'd much rather taste your sweet, sweet flesh. (He could practically smell it wafting off you).

But alas, he'd have to wait.

But of course, in normal yandere fashion, he goes from wanting to eat you to wanting to eat you. The obsession starts to change around (Y/n)'s 16th birthday party that the Waynes throw. It's customary that all children do some public ball or whatever, so this was yours. Jon and his family are there obviously, and you're there as well, looking as miserable and tired as usual (and still somehow being the most beautiful thing in the building). However, he sees you light up in a way he's never seen you do before when your (what he's guessing) friends show up. They're human. They're weak, like you.

Seeing you interact with them, hearing you talk normally(super-hearing, duh) without fear, watching the way you laughed...He realizes he wants. And he wants bad.

Looks like you've got a new problem now.

Anyways, this is all I got!! I don't want to spoil the story more than I already have, but yeah, say hello to "absolutely bonkers Jon Kent". Hope you enjoyed!!!

[nosyrobin]

“Ours.”

Genre: yandere Drabble.

Pair: yandere! Late teens Supersons x wonderboy!reader

Wonderboy!reader, he’s not popular at his school. But he’s known, known for being quite reserved for himself. Some girls or guys try to flirt only to make fun of the male, but the flirts mean nothing to the Amazon. The Amazon boy, in his civilian life has a girl who truly loves him. But dare do the Amazon male not feel the same. Only seeing her as a friend. They start to text, and call. During one of the supersons trio hangouts. Reader gets call from the girl, he excuses himself and leaves the arcade room in the Wayne manor to be outside.

The call is a little weird for the Amazon male, the female on the phone seems to forget that the male only thinks of her as a friend. The poor boy doesn’t realize that a certain super is eavesdropping and spilling what’s happening to the other male in the manor. The phone call ends with Damian exiting out the arcade room and snatching the phone. “You harlot! DONT you ever call his phone again.” Damian screams into the phone with anger and a dark look.

Jon frowns, he didn’t want to snitch. But he had to. He didn’t like this feeling he had gotten when he heard it was a girl on boy’s phone. Jon smoothly wraps his arms around the half Greek boy’s waist. “Does she make you uncomfortable?” He asked Your heart beat was all I could hear.” Reader, hesitates before nodding. Jon’s frown deepens before he kissed the foreheads of the male that almost reached his height. Damian was finished tearing that proclaimed homewreaker a new one. He had deleted her contact and all off of the bky’s phone.

“You will not see her again. Or anyone that dare take you from us.” Damian says, moving closer to the Amazon male. Reader narrowed his eyes, the tone of Damian made the boy’s stomach churn. Damian then completed the sandwich, having the Amazon male squished up between the two supersons.

This was the Amazon’s life. Possessive males that want to court him for their own. What a wonderful trio.

[reareaotaku]

Superboy vs Robin

Summary: The life of 3 best friends that get confused when realizing they have a crush on their other friend, Y/n Prince, daughter of Wonder Woman Pairings: Jon Kent x Fem! Reader, Damian Wayne x Fem! Reader Tw: Love V [NOT TRIANGLE!!! IT'S A 'V'], Slow Burn? Taglist: N/a

Pt II: Love in High Places | Pt III: Apple of My Eye

[This probably would have been better to write as a multi-part story instead of a one-shot, so I can really get the slow burn and such... Might make a part 2 if yall like this? Also hope this isn't bad because I've been wanting to write this for over a year....]

You had met the two boys when in the league's spaceship. Your mother was on business and sent you off to do, as she put it 'Children things', before taking off with Batman and Green Lattern. You rolled your eyes at her dismissal, but decided to find something else to do. Besides, hero work was boring anway. Nothing interesting about discussing rules and such anyway.

You walked around the large spaceship, before coming across a particular room. In the room where two kids, boys, around your age you didn't recognize. One of the boys, the one in darker clothes, must have felt your presence, because the second you stepped in he turned around.

Damian knew who you were. He knew who everyone was. He would look like a real fool if he didn't know the daughter of Wonder-woman. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Jon.

You awkwardly stand at the door way, now having both the boys' attention on you. You awkwardly wave, "Hey."

Jon's face lights up and he rushes to you. He loved meeting new people and you were nothing short of pretty. "Hi!" He grabs your hand, engulfing it with his own. "I'm Jon, Jon Kent."

"Y/n Prince." You tried to keep up with his handshake, but he was fast and strong, and by the time you could gather what was going on he had already let your hand go.

You looked past Jon back at the emo boy, but he was just staring at you. Jon looked over to see what you were looking at, before gesturing towards his friend.

"Oh, that's Damian. Don't mind him. He's.... Shy."

"I'm not shy. I just don't have any reason to speak to her."

Jon gasps, before glaring at his friend, "That's rude, Damian." He turns back to you, his face flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry about him. He's not good with people."

You nod, still staring at Damian. "He's Batman's kid, right? The son of those assassins?"

Damian's eyes widen, but only for a brief second. He could let such an emotion out.

"My mother mentioned it a while ago. She didn't say much, just that you were... Different."

"Yeah, he is different." Jon jokes, causing you both to chuckle, but Damian just rolls his eyes.

---

You and Jon stuck your faces to the fish tank. Neither of you had ever seen a fish tank before. You were both stuck in the house by your parents in fear of you revealing yourselves on accident. Your parents have isolated you both- Even Damian was isolated, but he wasn't as naive and foolish as you and Jon.

"Oh, that one's purple," You point to a triangle-shaped fish.

"No, it's a dark blue," Jon argues, causing you to side-eye him.

You rolled your eyes, but don't respond.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Yeah, Jon?"

He looks over at you, wide eyed and excited, "You ever been Tire-rolling?"

"Tire-rolling?"

---

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Jon-" You try and reason, as your hands grip the tire's rubber.

He smiles, his hands gripping the tire, "Oh, it'll be fun. Promise!" He then pushes you, but instead of pushing you at a normal strength, he accidentally uses his super strength and sends you flying. His eyes widen as his mouth drops, before he runs after you, hoping you don't get hurt.

You scream as the tire jumps and hits multiple things while going faster than you've ever gone before. You grip the inside of the tire so hard, that you can feel your nails digging into your palm. You hear cars honking, but there's nothing you can do, without using your powers.

Though, luck must have been on your side, because while you're mid way in the air, something goes through the tire and harshly pulls you down. Your face slams into the tire, your hands ripping the tire's rubber. The tire falls flat on the ground and you sit up, rubbing your head.

Above you was the one and only, Damian Wayne. He was in his school uniform and he was looking down at you annoyed. In his hand was a grappling hook, which you assume he used to save you.

You quickly stand up, brushing off your clothes, "Uh, thanks."

Before Damian can respond, like he would, you hear Jon calling out to you.

"Y/n! Oh my god, Y/n! Are you okay?" He's nearly out of breath as he runs up to you before he stops. "Oh. Uh, hi Damian."

There's a moment of awkward silence, before Jon goes back to his normal self.

"What are you doing, Damian?"

"Nothing." Damian is quick, calculated even.

You had only known the two boys for a few months, but it felt like you had known Jon your whole life and this moment felt like the first time meeting Damian. Though, Damian was busy, so you couldn't really blame him. He was the son of a man with an empire and an assassination group. He was bound to be tied up from time to time.

"Uh, do you want to hang out, Damian?"

Damian is taken by surprise. You wanted to hang out? With him? Why?

Jon went to speak for Damian, but Damian interrupts him, "Sure."

"Really?" Both you and Jon speak at the same time, before you both blush out of embarrassment.

"I mean, great. Wow, okay. Yeah, let's hang out."

---

Damian groaned, before laying down on the roof. He could hear Jon and Y/n snickering to themselves, probably over something stupid. He closes his eye, their voices slowly fading from his mind. He didn't know how you had convinced him to hang out with you on a roof in the middle night.

He didn't like you, so he didn't know why he listened to you. He had no reason to care about what you said or thought, but yet here he was.

You had some kind of pull over him and he didn't know why. There was nothing about you that was different from the other superheroes. Sure, you were pretty, but so was Starfire, Raven, Super-woman, etc.

He looks over at you as you lean on Jon's shoulder, whispering some secret into his ear. He wondered what secrets you two were sharing. Maybe if he asked you'd let him in? He didn't know.

He takes his eyes off of you and looks back at the sky. It was a dark and cloudy night, like most nights in Gotham. Though, unlike most nights, it was quiet; Almost peaceful.

It bothered Damian. More than he'd like to admit. He felt an ich in his skin, like he was supposed to be doing something, but there was nothing to do. There was no fight to fight or crime to solve. It was peaceful for the first time in a long time.

---

Jon liked you, a lot. Like more than he's ever liked someone in his life. He feels immense emotions when he's around you, even if your mother doesn't like him. Though, your mother didn't like men period.

He was thankfully you didn't receive that quality from your mother. You were much nicer and happier than your mother. But that could be because you weren't tortured in the same way your mother was by the women of Themyscira.

In fact, they adored you. They treated you like some kind of goddess and cherished you. Jon understood though. You were perfect- At least to him you were. He thought everyone should treat you like the perfect person you are because you deserve nothing less.

---

You were alone with Damian for the first time in all the years you've known each other. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn't know how you were going to tell them you were going to be leaving for Themyscira.

Your mother wanted you to be trained by the Amazons to be able to control your powers and abilities. While she herself was banished, she knew they would welcome you with welcome arms.

You knew Jon would take it hard, but it was only going to be for a year. Just a year. A year you'd be away from your best friends. So, there was a part of you that hoped if you told Damian first, it'd be easier to break it to Jon.

"So, when do you leave?"

You looked over at Damian, confused, "Leave?"

"I heard your mother talking to my father. She said she was sending you to Themyscira to train. So," He sits up on his bed, making direct eye contact with you, "when do you leave?"

"Next month. I'll be gone for a year."

"A year?"

"Yeah. My mom wanted me to stay for 3, but I was able to talk her down from it."

"Have you told Jon?"

"No..."

"Well, you know he's not going to react well."

"Yeah. That's why I've been procrastinating it."

"Can I write you?"

You frown, "No. The island is cut off from the world. So, no contact at all. Not even with my mom."

He now frowns, but says nothing more.

---

You sigh, leaning on your hand, your sword tossed on the ground. Before you stood Philippus, your mentor.

"Princess Y/n, what is bothering you so?"

You couldn't tell her you missed your friends. If she knew they were boys you knew you would get scolded. The Amazons didn't like men, because they were chaos and destruction and they were peaceful. A part of you understood, because you've seen the terrible things men can do, but your friends- they weren't like those men.

"Nothing... Just tired."

She takes your answer, even though she knows you're lying. You were frustrated and annoyed. You had been here for a month and found yourself making no progress. This was pointless.

You could have been with your friends, but here you were on some stupid island. You wanted to your friends.

"You know, if you don't get these down in the upcoming year, you'll have to stay."

You straighten up and glare at the woman. "No, I won't-"

Philippus quickly turns around, looking at you offended, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing." You quickly respond not wanting to repeat yourself.

She huffs, rolling her eyes, but decides to leave the conversation.

---

It had been a year since you were forced, by your mother, to train on the Themyscira Island. They wanted you to know how to use your powers to the fullest potential. It was fine... But you missed your friends. You wondered what they were doing. You wondered if they missed you too.

---

Jon was estatic. You were finally going to return from the island. Though, there was a part of him that was worried that you wouldn't remember them or even worse, you would hate them.

"You worry too much," Damian told him.

Jon sighs, trying to collect himself, "I'm just worried." Jon fiddles on his toes, as he repeated looks out of the window, hoping to see you pull up. Though, you were no where to be found. He walks away from the window, his shoulders dropping. "How far is that place?"

"Themyscira? It's a few weeks by boat, but she'll be here soon. She's home now."

Jon lightens up, "Home?"

"Yeah, she won't be here for a few more hours."

Jon glares at Damian, "You had me here looking like an idiot!"

Damian chuckles, "Yeah. I did, didn't I?"

---

Damian wasn't surprised by your appearance, unlike Jon. Damian had already seen you, without you knowing of course. You think he'd let you leave without any kind of contact? He knew everything, thanks to his connections. Though, nothing could compare to you really being in front of you.

Jon was the first to hug you. His arms squeezed you tightly, nearly causing you to lose your breath. He didn't want to let you go- Just hold you forever. He didn't want you leaving forever, but he was forced to let you go.

"You look great, Y/n."

You smile, a blush forming, "You too, Jon." You look around Jon to see Damian, who was avoiding eye contact. It almost reminded you of when you had first met the boys. "No hug, Damian?"

Damian finally looks at you, his natural glare on his face. Unlike Jon, who had let his hair grow out, Damian still had shorter hair, but his features were sharp. Though, that didn't surprise you. What did take you by surprise though is how much he looked like his father.

While Jon looked like a mix of Clark and Lois, Damian just looked like his father. Well, minus his golden skin- He got that from his mother.

Speaking of Jon, you felt him squeeze your bi-cep. You looked at him confused and he blushed.

"Uh, what are you doing, Jon?"

"Your biceps. They're like... Huge." He's fascinated by your arms, even comparing it to his own. While he was naturally strong, because of his powers, you had trained relentlessly for a year and it showed when your arms were bigger than his.

You chuckled at his amusement, before his eyes lit up, "Ah, Y/n you've missed out on so much- Come on," He grabs your arm, leading you inside the headquaters of the Justice League. You are stopped though when Damian grabs your arm that Jon didn't have. Jon looks back, wondering why you stopped when realizing Damian had grabbed you.

"Jon, why don't you head up. I just want to talk to Y/n."

Jon seems reluctant, but you turn to him, "I'll catch up. Promise."

He sighs, but ultimately goes up the stairs and inside the building.

"You look nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That means a lot coming from you, you know?"

Damian avoids eye contact. He's worried that you might see all his emotions, feelings and thoughts. He didn't want you knowing his darkest thoughts. "Yeah.. Uh, Jon missed you a lot... Obviously. Um..." Damian had never been like this- Lost for words. He always knew what to say. He had everything calculated, but now... Well, he felt lost. He felt your stare on him, waiting for him to finish, but he felt his tongue felt twisted. "It's good to have you back."

"Yeah, well, it's good to be back. You know, I've missed you a lot... And Jon. I've missed you both a lot."

Damian finally looks at you. Your eyes bleeding into his own. For a moment it felt like you two were the only ones in the world. Everything else was just dark and all that was left was you. That was until another voice spoke.

"Y/n."

You both looked up to see your mother. She gestured for you to come inside and you looked back at Damian.

"Well, I guess that I have to go."

"Yeah... I'll see yah."

"Yeah... you will."

You rush up the stairs, trying to stop the blush from forming on your face. You were so embarrassed and felt like the conversation was stupid. You wished you could have done it differently, but it was Damian. You were sure he wasn't as pressed about it as you.

If only you knew how much your life was about to change forever- All thanks to teenage boys' puberty.

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

What would the joestars (part 1-9) reactions to their darling (gender neutral) skirt getting lifted/flinged up by a kid?

( I got inspired from that one scene from frieren where a boy lifts up her skirt...and i personally wanna see the yandere joestars reactions lol.)

https://youtu.be/gd8kDrA9bi8?si=7UVFjAViup42cxZw

There’s the resounding thought of “is it wrong to beat up a child?” going through the Joestar’s heads.

Yandere! Jonathan Joestar

He’s fast enough to pick up whatever kid did this to his poor darling. No amount of smacking and thrashing will make him let go until they apologize, and Jonathan is pretty upset and makes it clear never to do it again. He appears to almost be a very stern parent talking to them, but there’s just a little bit of an intimidating aura behind it that it scares the kid off. Not to mention his large muscular stature helps fend them off as well.

He’ll probably walk you home after and make sure the kid doesn’t try jumping you (He knows how petty an angered person can be sometimes).

Yandere! Joseph Joestar

He can play petty, and he’s not going to let some snot nosed brat just upskirt his darling like that. (that’s a view he’s only allowed to have) The kid doesn’t get far at all, and probably even trips with whatever hamon trick Joseph decides to play off. He flicks the kids nose, maybe even pinches it.

“Cheeky little….you think you’re clever, but you’re not getting far with me, go home already”

He’s absolutely petty enough to give the kid a shaken up soda, and have it explode all over him later, (and maybe pants him, himself at some point). He’ll deny it later when you bring it up

Yandere! Jotaro Kujo

Under normal circumstances he’d be pissed, but being obsessive puts that anger through the roof. Star Platinum grabs the kid by the collar, and pulls them backwards. His stare is cold as ice, there’s zero patience in his voice as he also trips the kid with his stand by the feet. “How about you run home before something that you don’t like happens punk” is about the most restrained Jotaro can be at this point. He’s definitely tempted to punt the brat into the sun

The kid likely has a bloody nose, freaks out and books it out of there in a blink of an eye terrified. Alternatively there’s a chance Jotaro catches the kid early with a little use of his time stop, and smacks the kid in the back of the head with his hand. (Nothing concussion worthy) but it still sends the perpetrator packing.

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata (P4)

It irritates him almost instantly as insulting his hair, he’s on a similar level as Joseph when it comes to these things and the kid is going to have something not quite looking right after the use of Crazy Diamond. Who knows how the kid ended up in a fountain later, it totally wasn’t him! There might be a few other embarrassing stints and the kid eventually never walks your or his way ever again.

Yandere! Giorno Giovanna

His reaction would be interesting here, there’s a weird mix of calmness and pettiness wrapped into one. Firstly the blonde likely manages to pickpocket the kid right off the cuff. Tells the kid he forgot something while waving a wallet or a small amount of money around. Giorno has an obviously fake smile on his face, talks to the kid for a moment or two out of your earshot, perhaps you see an ear pinch out of your peripheral vision.

Though a scream erupts shortly after and the kid is running off slapping insects off themselves.

Yandere! Jolyne Kujo

She’s not the type to take stupid crap like upskirting happening to you (much like her father). The kid almost instantly gets caught by stone free, tripping him up. “What do you think you’re doing kid?” She’ll be asking them if they think their age is a get out of jail free card for acting like a brat. Jolyne will absolutely clever enough to make it look like she’s a sibling of this kid while giving him a taste of their own medicine.

Since they likely cant see stone free, the kid keeps tripping over and over. She might keep him still enough for a few birds to come over and do their business. Maybe hold their mouth open a bit, and suggests not telling anyone about this unless they want their parents to know them as the town pervert.

Yandere! Johnny Joestar

He’d pretend to almost not even notice this kids antics, but the kid quickly gets tripped up by spin. If there is any objects around they would just happen to trip into them. “Not sure what you’re trying to pull there, but it’s not a smart idea to pull that stunt to someone I like” Johnny tells them bluntly. This kid probably ends up “falling” again in mud or another unsavory mix from horses. He just gives the kid a cold stare and gestures them to leave for their own safety.

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata (Gappy) Part 8

There’s some soft humming as he goes to stop the kid who decided to upskirt you. There’s a dark look in his eyes as he grips the kid’s wrist firmly. He makes it clear he’s upset, and likely embarrasses the kid by messing with their hair, making it an obnoxiously ugly style or generally dumping something on them. With the bonus of the kid walking into a pole before rushing off, ( all of that may or may have not had to do with Soft & Wet)

Yandere! Jodio Joestar

There’s really no going back when you mess with his darling. Anything he does to this kid, he doesn’t regret in the slightest. “Want to see my sense of humor?” He’ll probably ask almost mockingly. He asks how’s the weather to kid, and casually uses November Rain on them. If he has food or a drink he doesn’t hesitate to dump it on the kid either. “I don’t think I want a sorry honestly….seems too…insincere for what you did” he shrugs.

[vegasisthinking]

Me when I find a good reader!fanfic but it uses Y/N (i can’t read it without feeling like a 14 year old)

[asa-no-seiiki]

“That’s you?”

Damian glared at you as you attempt (and subsequently failed) to hold in your giggles.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“I thought Grayson’s was bad but — BAHAHAHA”

But it was too much. You see, you first met your boyfriend a bit later in life. As such, you never saw his fantastic hairdo back when he was little. It was as if he styled it so it’d impale once he headbutted them.

“No Ice Cream for you two tonight.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“Why’d I get caught in the crossfire?!”

[littlenightma]

Hello. I hope this request is not strange. Can you write a Yandere Jeeper Creepers headcanon?

Yandere!Jeepers Creepers Headcanons (NSFW)

• Your scent was intoxicating and it called to him like a siren’s song. He drops his latest kill to the ground. He had to find the source of the delicious smell or he was going to go insane. As he searches, he is bombarded with an assemblage of differentiating scents, but none of them are yours. Where are you, sneaky human? He flaps his wings harder until he is nothing but an unrecognizable blur in the sky.

• And there you are, pinned beneath him, screaming and squirming. Talons dig into your skin. Muscles ripple beneath your hands as you futilely try to pry away. He trails his nose everywhere, sniffing and scanning, searching for something. You think, this is it. This thing is going to rip me to shreds. He finally comes to a stop between your legs. Ah, there it is. To your horror he buries his face there and inhales deeply and rises with a toothy grin. He is going to enjoy you.

• Unfortunately for you, Creepers mate for life, so unless something terrible happens and you die, you’re stuck with him forever. Mating lets him to bypass the 23 year hibernation cycle, too, so yeah, until you die, you belong to the Creeper.

• There’s no use in running. He can track you from miles away and will find you every time. Not to mention he will be very displeased and will rip whoever helps you apart. All those times he allowed you to leave the den for a few hours are long gone.

• Creeper doesn’t talk much — and it depends on if he has vocal cords on him at the time — but every now and again he calls you different pet names from little human, pretty pet, or a simple mate/pup because he senses how you like it. His main form of communication is through body language or vocalization. When he growls you know you’re in trouble or when he tenses and his ears perk, it means there is someone or something nearby and you are expected to hide until it’s safe to come out.

• You do most of the talking because of this. Whenever he brings home bodies to “work on”, he listens to you ramble about different things: the weather, politics, or the new tv show you’ve been watching. He doesn’t understand a lot of it like why humans feel the need to buy their food when there was a plenty of animals to be hunted or why there were some who refused to eat meat altogether, but it doesn’t matter to him as long as he gets to hear your voice.

• Very territorial. Does not like when males of any species get close to you. Human, feline, canine, it doesn’t matter, however humans can get you pregnant and if that were to happen, he’d have no choice but to kill the offspring. No mate of his was going to bear any children that didn’t belong to him.

• Will scent and mark you to let others know you are already claimed. If anyone wants to fight for the right to have you, they can certainly try, but you know what’s going to happen, right? It’s not going to end well for them.

• You know who is in charge here, don’t you? You humans deemed yourselves the apex predators, top of the food chain, but it’s certainly not him rolled onto his back and displaying his belly in a show of submission. Such a good little pet you are.

• You’re unprepared for when he knots you the first time. Your initial reaction is to move away, however the knot is connecting you to him and will not budge, causing pain. You have no choice but to lay there and allow it to lodge itself further inside you. It’s intense, the feeling of his knot invading you, stretching you more than his monstrous cock did. You can’t believe you’re being fucked like an animal in the literal sense and how it’s even remotely possible for your human body to be adjusting so well. Wasn’t your body supposed to instinctively push out anything foreign? So why was your body greedily sucking him in and why was it starting to feel so good? Oh…

• When you’re on your period, it sends him into a state of frenzy and he will not leave you alone. The combination of your blood mixed with your pheromones are begging him to breed you. While it is impossible for him to impregnate humans, you’re still going to be put on your hands and knees, ass up and ready so he can fuck you all night long.

• And when I say all night long — I mean it. There are no breaks, no time outs, no breathers for you to take. It’s just him pounding into you relentlessly until his knot forms then it’s rinse and repeat. It’s messy, it’s sticky, and the more you cry out, the harder he goes. If you reach behind and grab his hips, pulling him close because you’re needing more is exactly how he wants you; a pleading, blood-soaked, cock drunken mess. You will never have to worry about having cramps again because he will fuck them right out of you.

• Loves to play fight. One because he wants you to learn how to properly pounce and pin prey to the ground. The more you learn to give into your own primal instincts that humans have all but lost long ago and learn to protect yourself when he isn’t around, the less he has to worry. Two, because of the social aspect of it. He likes spending time with his human and enjoys when you try your best to get the upper hand. Sometimes he will let you win, but there’s no changing the dynamics here. He will always play the dominate role.

• Takes you on impromptu flying trips. At first you were too scared to open your eyes to even look at anything and he has to jostle you until you do. It’s scary to know you’re that high in the air, but the fear eventually gives way and you begin to enjoy the wind blowing in your face.

• On those rare occasions when the Creeper isn’t out and prowling for himself, he rests you on top of his chest and cocoons you within his wings, locking them tight. He hums an old tune while scratching your back with his claws and eventually you are lulled to sleep, dreaming of a winged creature who has turned your life upside down.

• But maybe not for the worst.

[yandereunsolved]

— Yandere Jonathan Crane —

"Do you know where you are?

"Arkham Asylum."

"Good. Your memory is improving. Are you still having those dreams?"

"Yes."

"I want you to describe them to me again. I know you don't remember much."

"I-It was extremely dark out. I remember that. There was this strange smell in the air. It goes blank after that. I vaguely remember feeling someone's hands ghost my body. When I woke up, it was a massacre. They were dead all around me."

"You had a psychotic breakdown. There was a leaking gas pipe that caused you to hallucinate. When the Gotham police came to the crime scene they say they saw you with a mask in hand."

"It was more like a straw bag. I-I don't remember ever having anything like that before... except for when you—"

"I see the light bulb appearing above your head. You are very smart, you know? That's why I picked you."

"Scarecrow."

"Such an astute observation. I wouldn't suggest you start screaming. No one will believe someone diagnosed as clinically insane, especially not someone who committed mass murder, such as yourself. I see you are sobbing now. It's a natural bodily reaction to relieving stress. Would you like a tissue, my dear?"

"Why?"

"Oh? You ask the predator why it stalks its prey? That's a question I am delighted to answer. It's simple, really. I am intoxicated by you."

[hana-no-seiiki]

YAN! DAMIAN WAYNE & YAN! JONATHAN KENT with their shared darling.

You are hella shy around them. You never defend yourself, never speak out of turn. Meek. You appeal extremely well to their hero instincts; to guide and protect.

A while into your (forced, maybe even fictional) relationship, they introduce you to the titans.

Surprise surprise YAN! FANS TEEN TITANS already knew you. Who wouldn’t recognize the super idol [Y/N] [L/N]?

The two suddenly realized that you’re the star the team always talked about but they were just too busy stalking you to even realize. (Also cause Damian is the anti-basic and baby ghorl Jon is a bit out of the loop when it comes to pop culture)

Cue the pair suddenly becoming your biggest fanboys.

Jon who’s a lot more open about it in public. Wearing your merch all over his body. Even using his hero identity to spread your name around. Memorized fan dances to obnoxiously perform if you ever go on stage again.

While Damian is a lot more low-key and uses it as a way to blackmail and psychoanalyze you. He stalks all your socials. Has watched all your concerts and listened to all your albums on loop.

Uses his money to flex but as an anonymous user and even brings the whole Batfam into it. Particularly his dad and oldest brother. Mostly cause Bruce is rich and can fund his obsession, while Dick is a great enabler and is already a fan of you.

Both probably engage on internet wars on a daily.

Anyways it’s all cute until they ruin your career by fucking you live for all to see, in their costumes to boot.

Aight byeeeee

[thornybubbles]

What Makes Them Dangerous: Yandere Jonathan Joestar

*Note: Been suffering from writer's block lately. I've been struggling with Yandere Kars' Jealousy scenario especially. I keep starting over with it. So have this until I pull myself out of my creative funk. This is something that I started but never finished. I only have Jonathan and Joseph done right now. I may add more characters later.

You wouldn’t think so, but Jonathan may very well be one of the more dangerous yanderes of all the JoJos. Why? Well, because he’s probably one of the only ones that exemplifies the idea of a yandere, meaning he is both sweet and kind but also very, very twisted. You won’t ever see that side of him though. No one will ever see that dark side of him. Dio may have ruined his reputation to some degree, but no one would ever suspect him of being lovesick to the point of madness. Not even Dio could convince them of that.

Jonathan can trap you with him in a way that you won’t even be aware of. He has a way of appealing to your guilt and sense of sympathy and empathy that can get you to do whatever he wants. If you refuse him, well, he supposes that he’s crossed a line and disappears from your life for a while. Why should he stick around where he’s not wanted after all? Little do you know that he’s already got you. When he pulls himself out of your life, the vacant spot he leaves behind keeps getting bigger and bigger until you can’t handle it anymore. You need to get him back, apologize, and make him realize just how important he is to you. You hurt his feelings, but he’ll never hold it against you. Especially not now that you’re being so sweet to him! 

You know about all the horrible things Dio has done to Jonathan. He’s lost so much and you wanted to shove him out of your life all because he confessed his feelings to you? Why don’t you just cut his heart out while you’re at it, Reader? You’ll feel like the worst person in the world for making him sad… and that’s exactly how he planned it. He’s already got you in his clutches and you’ll never even realize it. He’s not going to lose the only good thing he has left. 

[ophelian-darling]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna and Jolyne Cujoh - gn reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : There's more than a way to say I love you, yet there are many too ways to say I hate you.

TW : Obsession, delusional thoughts, verbal abuse.

enjoy ♡

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫:

♡ : Thank you for everything you do for me, JoJo.

It fills him with blessing to know how much his words and actions are something with great meaning in your eyes. Faithful servant when in love- except that everything he does sources from the warmest atoms of his soul and from the deepest corners of his heart. Jonathan fights the world to see you happy, and rests with a smile when he earns the slightest curve of your lips; to him, it's the ultimate gift he can ever receive- your Love.

- You mean nothing to me.

Tears- everything that would wash him with agony strikes at once. the sensation of tearing the flesh of a heart open accompanies your words; deeply cutting and painful, causing all of his insecurities to float : Am I being useless again darling? Am I being a burden? Have you grown tired of me? He can't help it when he sheds these tears: He had lost all of your affection and care. the only source of warmth he had, now doused in the cruelest way possible. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 :

♡ : I like you , you're awesome!

Just imagine it, that ghost of a blush coffined beneath a confident smirk and a glinting wink! Joseph catches a love fever once you state that his presence around you is enjoyable. He feels that he already aimed at the moon by gaining your trust and company- it meant that you were besotted with him in return, regardless of whatever you said about considering him as a mere brother or a dear friend. JoJo sees the colors of your eyes soften as you say so, it is surely, undoubtedly love!

- We're done.

a swift of a cut that it doesn't elicit any pain at first, then it's repeated again, slightly stinging, then it rolls down your tongue, fully sinking in his soul. How could you?! Was the thing in the middle of your chest a hard stone to not see or feel a fraction of his love towards you?! a heavy realization of being used falls on his head like a heavy anvil: the blood in his veins floats just right under his skin, painting anger as red, yet the pale dread underneath can't be helped. Why? He would scream at you, but the reasons were nothing of an importance, you just toyed harshly with his feelings. 

𝐉𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐣𝐨 :

♡ : I'm always by your side. 

It ignites a pleasant warmth within his heart and shines through his eyes; it confesses his undying love and loyalty for you, regardless of whatever mean words he utter. No force on earth can banish him from you: From the depths of Inferno to the ends of earth and above in the heavens, He would remain with you forever, his lineaments engraved under your eyelids and in the darkest curtains of your vision. JoJo doesn't show it, but he's on cloud nine to know that you're staying as well- that he finally earned your love. 

- Nobody loves you, not even me.

He's already aware. Half of people fear him, the other hates him, and there were you, probably feeling something negative swirl inside you towards him, now confirming it with each spiteful letter you let out. Couldn't you just shut the fuck up and swallow it instead of saying it out loud? He spits, the words of you reiterating louder and louder in his mind that now he can't unhear. You've just ruined everything for him, he had peacefully thought that everything went well, that your protests and complaints were just a childish fit- but now, it's all so grotesquely real: you truly hated him, and for the first time ever, he has no idea what he should do. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚 :

♡ : You're cute! I like your hair!

Nobody can stop him, the boy with a heart of diamond and eyes of warm seas! Everything in his eyes glints with beauty; especially you: everything about you is a well crafted detail, say your eyes, your smile or the contours of your face. The subject of his daydreams- they were made of spring rain drops and cotton candy, the enchanting human whom he had a silly intense crush on called him cute! Was there even a better time to be alive? to be praised by someone you adored was the epitome of being coddled beyond any wishes of a young man madly in love!

- Look at you, pathetic and ugly.

Huh?! 

It's all that he can think of as a response. Your words take a slow effect on him; as if he was trying to process it in another different light, in a gentle way that didn't convey the clear in them. At first, He's at sixes and sevens for a few minutes: people who are in love together were supposed to have each other's back, to boost each other's confidence and accept them whatever and whoever they were- so why were you saying this to him now? obviously it wasn't a joke, your voice was too cold to warm the words into a playful comment, he would have accepted them if you were just a tad above expressful, not a doll that just stares back eerily. He should be angry, but it just melts in tears, all of his hidden insecurities emerge into existence, and not even Crazy Diamond is able to fix the shatters of his heart. 

𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 :

♡ : You mean the world to me.

Galatea to Pygmalion, Juliet to Romeo, Layla to Qays- You to Giorno. Romanticism wasn't something he was versed in, but in a blink of an eye, the world fell into a pink blur, filling everything with such amour a human never had in a little heart. GioGio ponders to himself that you were an Angel, a poor pure plumed creature that tripped and fell into the land of the stained; worth to be kept in a vitrine till the sun burns away. The smile that dances on his lips when he hears your gratitude, the joy he feels when his efforts of shielding you are finally noticed by you equate the flow of sweetness he tasted for the first time he saw you: Love.

- You're a monster. 

The gray flicker in his eyes blends with the greens of his irises; it doesn't reflect on your face that you just hurt him, while having the audacity to brand him as a monster. His patience contained all of your attitudes, he bottled up every evil word you threw at him and continued to offer more than he should for the sake of winning back some or little of your affection, but to no avail. The mayhem under his skin is concealed by force, consuming whatever left of his patience as he makes you toe the line. You're selfish- you always were, yet he can't help his love for you. 

𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐣𝐨𝐡 :

♡ : Good Girl! 

Valentine, Friends and dates- High school sweethearts and kisses! Her world is a ridiculously colored picture of a sunny day; her imagination paints a world where she is with you and nothing could ever go wrong. How much would she offer to just touch the tips of your fingers with her hands? nothing less than what she is able to count! JoJo wanders around you in the excitement of a puppy around its master, waiting for a treat or a word of praise for pleasing them. She wants you to say it again, over and over again, to no end! A Good girl was a girl in Love! 

- How annoying you are. 

She had heard someone she loved before say this, but who were they? 

Remorse falls heavily on her like a dark curtain- She'd just ruined the best thing she ever had in life. She blames herself for being too clingy, too needy and too desperate- she carries the shame and burden like weights on her shoulders, staggering as the remains of her confidence seep through the fractures. Your sweet words and praises were brightening her existence; was she to be something if you didn't adore her? The talkative, open and daring Jolyne is now nothing but a silent, gloomy and wounded little girl, asking for a little of love and receiving none no matter how much she gave. 

[solelifauna]

GUYS THIS COMMENT FROM @silken-moons ON THE WEREWOLF AU HAS ME LOCKED IN.

silken-moons:

Wait....so what happened to Kon or Conner in this au ? Was he the one eaten since he was basically half human and kryptonian too assuming lex is human in this au too.

I am more than happy to elaborate.

Lex is a half-human half-werewolf hybrid like the reader. So Conner would be half-kryptonian and only a fourth werewolf. When Clark finds out about his existence he’s pissed (at first). Superman doesn’t hesitate before finding Luthor and melting his skull in with his laser vision. It’s quite the graphic scene, Conner unfortunately being there to witness it all.

Conner is pressed back into some crevice in Luthor's office, doing his best to calm his heart beat, stave off his on-coming panic attack, and pray that Superman won’t kill him. Clark of course finds him curled in on himself, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his teenage face.

Conner is blubbering, he thinks, trying to communicate some type of garbled “please” and “I’m sorry” and “don’t hurt me please”. Superman just critically eyes him before knocking the clone out. Now, in the beginning he was just planning on taking the clone to the Watch Tower to interrogate him and then kill him. Perhaps Jon would like the extra meat?

But after watching the clone wake up alone in one of the containment units, crying quietly to himself as he rocked back and forth, he started to feel a little bad. He thought back onto the way the clone had practically begged him for mercy through his own panic attack. He's read Lex Luthor's files on "Superboy", how this clone had no flight, was not invulnerable, and couldn't even throw out half of Clark's strength.

This clone was no threat, no, in fact he was a gift. Another Kryptonian (even if the clone was only half with human DNA in his mix). And even better, the clone boy had no ill intentions towards the JL, hell, the boy looked afraid that anyone even considered the idea. No, no, no, this boy, his boy, was so sweet.

From the way he leaned into Clarks palm when he caressed the sleeping boys face, to the way he clung to Clark and his approval like a touch starved puppy, Clark couldn't help himself. The only problem now was getting his Wife and Son on the same page. He knew werewolf customs, he knew what it meant for Conner (a name his new son had previously picked out).

It would probably be easier to convince Jon considering the poor kid's been wanting a sibling for a long time now (Jon is 8 right now, but still all the same crazy). Lois might take a bit more time, considering pack bonds and the human part of Conner. So with a heavy heart, he kisses his new baby goodnight, as he flies home for he night. Yes, its been a couple of weeks since Connors arrival and he still hasn't told his family. he plans to amend that today.

He expects growling and demands for flesh. he expects outrage from his wife, or even a calm cool collected "bring him to me". What he gets instead are demands from Lois to see Conner, her new son. Clark blinks in surprise before he's fumbling with his phone, opening up his camera role where has has a million new pictures of Conner. Lois only grabs his phone, cooing over the pictures with adoration in her eyes. Well, Clark is pleasantly surprised.

"You're not mad are you Lois?" Clark asks gently.

"Oh I'm not mad Smallville, I'm livid." She all but growls, a smile still etched on her face as she continues scrolling. "You knew about him for weeks, and didn't even bother letting me know. I had a son for weeks, and he's been by himself."

Clark winces. "I know Lois, I know. I just-I was just afraid that you wouldn't want him the way I do. That you'd rip him open, hell, even I considered it in the beginning!"

Lois looks up from his phone, a knowing smile, a soft one, on her face. "I know farm boy, I know. But its important that you remember we don't always kill and eat the weak. Sometimes, its nice to have something that you can love and take care of, something that relies on you and only you."

"is that what you have planned for Connor?"

"Of course. He's our son now, and after everything he's been through, its out job to keep him and Jon safe. Until he can prove himself capable, he's not leaving the den."

A content grin makes its way onto Clarks face. Oh how he loved his wife. "I wouldn't have it any other way Lois. I'll bring him here tomorrow. Now, lets go let our other little rascal know."

Lois smirks. "I agree. Lord knows he's been waiting to have a-"

"-I have a new brother!" Comes the familiar voice of Jon Kent, cutting his mother off in his excitement.

Clark raises his eyebrow fondly, feigning exasperation. "Did you listen in on our conversation Jonathan Samuel Lane-Kent?"

"Of course I did! Well-I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it! You said I have a brother and I wanna see him!" Jon all but whines.

"Well honey, dad said he'd bring him home tomorrow okay."

"Really!?"

"You betcha. But Jon, you have to be gentle with him okay? He doesn't know werewolf or Kryptonian customs okay?" His dad says.

"Okay, I promise i'll be gentle." Jon swears, nodding up and down.

Lois sighs fondly. "And its important to know that he is part human, do you know what that means?"

"Mhm! It means that he's not allowed out the den or the house, and that its our job to protect him 'cause he's weak." Jon repeats from his memory.

"Good job Jon! You're going to be the best brother, I just know you are." His mom says.

Jon preens under the praise.

He can't wait to meet his new brother!

~~~~~

The next day arrives slower than anyone would have liked.

The morning sunlight filters through the sky as Clark flies Conner to him penthouse in Metropolis, cradling the boy carefully as he slumbers. Conner stirs in his arms, eyes fluttering open, a brief panic flashing in them until he meets Clark’s calm gaze.

“Where-where are we?” Conner mumbles, clutching at Clark’s shirt with a grip that feels hesitant, almost reluctant.

“We’re going home,” Clark replies, a small smile on his face. “Your new home. Your family’s waiting for you, Conner.”

Conner’s eyes widen, his mouth opening as if to protest, but the words die on his lips. His gaze shifts away, and he nods mutely, not quite daring to believe that this “family” will truly accept him. He’s felt so disposable for so long; he almost can’t imagine what it’s like to be wanted.

The penthouse doors open, and Lois stands there, her sharp gaze softening the instant she sees Conner. She steps forward, reaching out a hand in a silent invitation. Conner hesitates, clinging to Clark a little tighter, and Clark gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, Conner,” he murmurs. “I'm here for you.”

With a slow, tentative step, Conner reaches out, letting Lois pull him into a gentle hug. Her arms are firm around him, warm but unyielding, a silent promise of protection, though he senses the fierce strength just below the surface. She smooths his hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft as she whispers, “Welcome home, Conner.”

Conner relaxes, allowing himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. This feels strange. He's never really had a home before. Luthor's compound was last place he felt safe, let alone a place he'd call home. And that word, that feeling-safe. He isn’t sure he's ever felt it outside Superman, sorry, his Dad's arms.

And isn't that a crazy thing, he has a Dad now. Superman, Clark Kent was his Dad.

Jon, standing just a few steps away, is practically vibrating with excitement. When Lois finally releases Conner, Jon bounds over, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi! I’m Jon, your brother!” He pauses, then adds, almost reverently, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Conner blinks in surprise, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he mumbles, “I-thank you, Jon.”

Lois places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Remember what we talked about, Jon. Conner’s still adjusting. Be patient with him.”

Jon nods enthusiastically, but there’s a possessive glint in his eyes as he looks at Conner, a silent vow to protect his new brother from anything—or anyone—that might threaten him. Conner notices this look, a strange chill running down his spine, but he says nothing.

As the day unfolds, Conner tries to settle into this new life, though it feels almost too good to be true. Lois and Clark are attentive, constantly ensuring he’s comfortable, while Jon barely leaves his side, eager to show him every corner of the penthouse, as if staking his claim. Meals are filled with warmth and laughter, and yet Conner can’t shake the feeling of being watched, almost obsessively.

That night, as Conner lies in the bed they’ve prepared for him, he hears the soft creak of footsteps outside his door. It opens quietly, and Clark steps inside, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He walks over to the bed, looking down at Conner with an intense, unreadable expression.

“You’re part of this family now, Conner,” Clark says quietly, brushing a hand over Conner’s forehead in a strangely tender gesture. “Nothing will take you from us. Not anyone. You’re ours, do you understand?”

Conner nods, his throat tightening, unable to find words. Clark’s gaze softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to Conner’s forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving Conner alone with a flurry of conflicted feelings. For the first time in his life, he feels wanted, cherished, trapped, as though he’s become a prized possession in a family he can never escape.

But, maybe, a small voice inside him whispers, he doesn’t want to escape at all.

Well folks, here's more lore on relationships outside of the Batfam. Let me know chat, am I cooking? New chap, out soon!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Extra-dimensional.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Spot x Reader (Spider-verse).

Word Count: 6.0k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacle-Adjacent Sex, Prolonged Stalking, Psychological Abuse, Themes of Grief, and Kidnapping.

You were starting to think that your apartment might’ve been haunted.

The science-focused part of your brain was forced to look at the evidence, to acknowledge how many well-accounted-for articles of clothing and minor keepsakes had gone missing over the past few weeks, to count how many times you’d caught shadowy figures flickering in the corner of your eye, to take stock of all possible causes and admit that, tragically, a temperamental spirit was the only remotely plausible explanation, even if you had to use the term ‘plausible’ more loosely than you’d like to. It made sense – or, it made as much sense as invoking supernatural entities could, anyway.

On the other hand, the part of your mind that paid rent every month and vacuumed twice a week really, really didn’t want your apartment to be haunted and vehemently denied that ghosts – unseen, untouchable, unsolvable ghosts – were something you’d have to deal with a down payment like yours.

Both parts of your brain could agree that leaving a fully in-tact, as-of-yet unopened bank vault would be a weird thing for a ghost to do, though.

Teeth grit, still dressed in the clothes you’d worn to the memorial, you stood with one foot planted on its overturned side and another lodged in your carpeting, the end of a crowbar you’d borrowed from your loudest downstairs neighbor lodged between the door and the wall where a badly beaten mechanism bound them together. You’d already called the cops, as little as you wanted to do with them or the quote-on-quote ‘heroes’ who’d failed to save him, but the operator had laughed you off of the line and despite the hours you’d spent buried in the deepest trenches of any search engine that would have you, the only report you could find of a bank robbery had taken place in London, on the other side of the world. You’d considered, briefly, that grief had driven you to hallucinations and this was just the first sign of an upcoming downward spiral, but that idea had been swiftly vetoed when you’d tripped over the damn thing and decided it was very much, very unfortunately real. The idea to pry it open had come a few minutes later, after deciding that you probably had a legal right to anything to investigate anything that spontaneously appeared in your living room – ghosts or no ghosts.

You heard something snap, felt the reverberation of a fracture underneath your palms, but the vault didn’t budge. The only thing that changed was your crowbar – the bent claw replaced with a jagged, broken-off tip when you managed to dislodge it from the vault. You winced, swallowing back in an agitated grown. Trial One: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. So far, the vault reigned victorious.

You tried to take a deep breath, to count to ten and tell yourself that this was no different than a failed experiment, a half-baked test that just hadn’t gone your way, but you could still hear church bells ringing in the back of your mind, still picture two empty seats at the front of the chapel – one for Dr. Octavius and the other meant for the CEO of the Alchamax, neither brave enough to show their face. You weren’t even sure why you were so angry. It could’ve been the clipped speech delivered by a company representative who’d barely known him, the closed casket, the way your coworkers could barely bring themselves to meet your eyes despite your stunted attempts at making conversation through the knot lodged in your throat. It could’ve been everything. It could’ve been something else entirely. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. There were already tears streaming down your cheeks, dripping down your chin as you pulled the crowbar back and swung it into the vault’s door. The force of the collision rattled through your body, but you steeled yourself and did it again, then again, then again, until the smooth, black metal was dented beyond any hope of repair and your crowbar was warped and misshapen. Finally, when you were panting and breathless, when your hands threatened to cramp and your shoulders ached in their sockets, you drove the blunted crowbar into the vault’s door with what was left of your quickly draining strength. In the end, your aggression was rewarded with a metallic clang, the sound of something cracking open, and then, what was left of the vault door fell open – nearly taking out one of your feet before you stumbled out of the way.

You clenched your eyes shut, forcing out a ragged exhale and re-tallying your score. Trail II: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. Although the vault put up a good fight, the crowbar’s endurance ultimately persevered. Interference from external factors and researcher’s bias will be considered later on with the assistance of a glass of wine and a mediocre romcom you’ll cry your eyes out to.

Once you’d managed to dampen the lingering heat of your grief-fueled anger, you turned your attention to the bank vault’s contents – the fruits of your labor, the results of your little experiment. You weren’t sure what you expected. Jewelry, maybe, artifacts or century-old paintings some underground dealer had to ditch in a stranger’s apartment for reasons you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Part of you, the part of you that remembered the number written across your last paycheck, couldn’t help but hope for something simple; a disorderly pile of unmarked bills that you’d count and stow away and pretend you weren’t dying to waste. That part of you wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Neatly stacked in the overturned bank vault, only slightly disrupted by your attempts to pry it open, were stacks upon stacks of neatly organized dollar bills. Or, that wasn’t quite right, actually. They were bills, but they weren’t dollars.

You took one of the bundles in your hand. English pounds – sorted by color and bound together by paper bands toting a logo you didn’t recognize. Huh.

Maybe your next call should be an international one.

~

By the next month, you’d escalated from a vaguely haunted apartment to a full-blown spectral presence that you just couldn’t seem to shake.

Spectral presence. You still weren’t convinced it was a real term, but you’d picked it up after a conversation with one of your coworkers (former coworker, now, you had to remind yourself, one of your former coworkers) when you both stepped out of a quickly lulling group session and you’d off-handedly mentioned your little ghost problem. In the moment, you’d laughed and shrugged and promised to let them know if you ever called an exorcist, but the phrase had stuck, resurfaced the next time you couldn’t find the threadbare t-shirt you’d been wearing for the better part of a decade and cemented itself in the forefront of your consciousness when the aforementioned shirt reappeared on your balcony, a jagged tear running from the collar to the midriff and the hems eaten away to nothing. If that didn’t count as a presence, you weren’t sure what would.  

That was the first time your little ghost problem had followed you out of the house, but it wouldn’t be the last. You could practically feel it, now; constantly looming over your shoulder, constantly watching, constantly leaving little trinkets in places it knew you would be. If you could even call them that. They were more like… oddities – rings made of a kind of metal you couldn’t recognize, puzzle boxes you couldn’t seem to figure out, things that should make sense but just didn’t when you looked into them. The only one you’d been able to make sense of so far was a pair of glasses, one of the lenses sporting a hair-line fracture. You’d spent the rest of that day huddled in your closet, the door shut and the lights off. You considered that you could have a stalker, someone or something who loved you enough or hated you enough to follow you around, leaving things you didn’t want to see in places it knows you’d find them, but you didn’t know how a stalker would even start to get their hands on something like that. You didn’t know how anything of his could’ve survived that explosion, but you weren’t in a place to ask those kinds of questions, anymore.

Currently, you weren’t in a place to do much of anything. You’d spent most of the night before sleepless and huddled into yourself, and now, you were glassy-eyes and exhausted, staring down an aisle’s worth of produce blankly as you tried to ignore the chill fanning over the nape of your neck. You kept your tongue caught in your teeth, counting out the micro-seconds between one breath and another with a precision refined by years of measuring the time between stimulus and reaction, holding yourself stiff enough to drown out the unsteadiness. It’d pass, soon enough. It had to pass, eventually. You just had to—

Something brushed against the small of your back and you straightened, snapping over your shoulder and finding, predictably, nothing. You tried to write it off as just another figment of your stress-induced paranoia, a symptom of so many late nights and so little external stimulation, but any hope of calming your racing heart was torn away with you by the feeling of something settling against the curve of your shoulder-blade, then dipping lower, following the curve of your spine before sliding to your hip. It was a phantom sensation – cold and weightless, hollow and so close to intangible – but you could feel it clearly enough to recognize that it was pressing against you directly, frozen tendrils sapping the warmth from your skin without clothes to buffer its awful touch. There was something else to it, too, a sort of buzzing that you couldn’t seem to compare to anything but static. It burnt. It didn’t feel like anything at all.

If you’d been braver, you might’ve glanced down, tried to see if the fabric of reality had opened to reveal some terrible, eldritch thing, but you weren’t and it was all you could do to clench your eyes shut, to cross your arms over your chest and pray that would be enough to protect you from the thin trail of frigid, searing static slowly creeping up your side, drifting to your navel, following the curve of your chest until it was resting just underneath the base of your throat. You weren’t sure what you were afraid of. That it would hurt you, maybe, that the thing that was haunting you for months would realize it could touch you and take the next logical step. You didn’t want to die in a grocery store. You didn’t want to die at all. You didn’t want to—

“Do you mind, dude?”

The static disappeared, dissolving into the open air, and your eyes shot open, immediately finding a strung-out teenager standing next to you, awkwardly attempting to reach for something you must’ve been standing in front of. More out of reflex than anything else, you stepped back, muttering an apology under your breath before retreating out of the store entirely. You decided, when you were a block away and just starting to catch your breath, that you’d never be going back. You decided you were never going to think about what’d just happened to you again.

And, later on, when you realized that you wouldn’t be any safer at home, you decided not to think about your little haunting at all.

~ It was creeping up your spine, again.

“You’ve got more than enough experience for the position we’re offering.”

Lingering at the nape of your neck, pausing, then circling to your chest to trace over your collarbones.

“And I saw your resume, too – very impressive stuff. We’d love to have someone with your qualifications on our staff.”

It usually waited until you were alone, locked in your apartment or curled up under your sheets. It hadn’t touched you again in public since your first physical encounter – something you were thankful for and horrified by in equal measures. You didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was a conscious entity. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean if it knew what it was doing to you.

“There’s just one question. You mentioned that you were formerly employed at,” A pause, a polite smile that meant ‘depending on your answer, you might not be in my office for much longer’, “Alchemax?”

You forced yourself to smile, too, shifting slightly in your uncomfortable leather seat and hoping that would be enough to dispel the trail of frost now gliding down your chest. “Unfortunately,” you started, and your specter dipped lower, past your stomach and into the space between your thighs. You clenched your legs shut, then thought better of it and crossed them, but that did little to stop the chill now washing over your lap, fanning over the inside of your thigh. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it groping. “I wasn’t in that department, if that’s what you’re wondering. Our work was supposed to be completely theoretical. None of us knew what was really going on until – well, until everything knew.”

Your total rejection of autonomy appeased the interviewer, who rewarded your sacrifice by nodding his head and shuffling the papers on his desk before launching into some lengthy monologue about benefits and turn-over rates that you couldn’t bring yourself to concentrate on. Your crossed legs offered little protection. The entity’s touch expanded, infecting everything it contacted with that awful static and turning your skin warm, hyper-sensitive. A strange, alien weight fell onto your clit, pressing down harshly enough to earn a sudden gasp, to make you jerk forward and wrap your arms around your stomach. The interview went silent, his expression turning to one of sympathy-tinged confusion. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just—” You tried to straighten your back, to brace yourself on the arm of your chair, but the entity dipped lower, two finger-like projections tracing down the length of your slit and you forced yourself to stand in spite of your unsteady legs. “It’s just been so humid, lately. I think I might need to step out and get something to drink—”

“Please, let me.” No, no, no. You needed to be somewhere else, to find a broom closet to hide in until this was over, but you couldn’t say that, couldn’t explain that all you wanted to do was get away from here and run farther than this entity would be able to follow you. You couldn’t say much of anything as you fell back into your seat, as your interview offered a curt apology and fled his own office before you could do the same. You might’ve thanked him, but you couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to hear anything over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

As you feared, the entity seemed to know that you were alone. Its formerly ginger touch turned aggressive, dull fingertips (because they were fingers, you couldn’t deny it any longer, couldn’t claim this thing was as far from human as you hoped it would be) burrowing into the inside of your thigh harshly enough to bruise before pulling back and turning their attention back to your cunt, your clit. It was more than just the ghost of sensation, now – the pad of a thumb pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing loose, quick circles into your clit. Your body, senses dialed up by paranoia and defenses thinned by exhaustion, reacted instantly, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in your core as you dug your nails into the leather seat and tried to hold yourself still, tried to stop your stupid, stupid body from doing anything that’d suggest you wanted to be molested by a ghost.

You grit your teeth, to clench your thighs together, but your resistance only seemed to make it more aggressive. You felt a hand curl around your ankle and jerk your leg to the side, forcing your legs apart. It was quick to fill the empty space, three fingers pressing into your entrance as the heel of a palm continued to torture your clit. Whatever chill it carried, you were burning hot enough to balance it out, now, to leave you struggling to ignore the slick starting to dampen the inside of your thighs, the wet sounds that echoed off the blank office walls as two fingers slid into your pussy – only vaguely muffled by fabric still between you and it. Suddenly, the material of your dress-pants felt thin, transparent, and against your better judgement, you forced yourself to look toward the door. The interviewer had closed it on his way out, but it wasn’t locked. You doubted it was soundproof, either. If you were lucky, they’d be short-staffed, and no one would have a reason to pass this specific office though this specific hallway. And, if you weren’t…

You choked back a ragged groan as the fingers inside of you started to move, started to do more than just grope and tease and haunt. Rather than numb, rather than paralyze, the static seemed to tote a much, much worse side-effect. There was a sort of… buzzing vibration, a resonating tremor that made you want to lean back, go slack, and let the sensation wash over you. You couldn’t, though. Even if you forfeited the job, gave up on the idea of ever working in this industry, you knew you’d never be able to show your face in public again if someone walked in and you had to explain what was happening to you right now. That was, if you even could explain what was happening to you right now.

You caught the inside of your cheek in your teeth, biting down until you tasted blood. The digits quirked upward, rubbing against your pulsing walls before scissoring apart, stretching you open. There was no pattern to it, no method you could track and prepare yourself for. If you didn’t know better, you’d call it experimental. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it clumsy.

You could feel your face heating up, a knot of tension growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, but rather than sped up, push forward, force you further towards that inevitable ledge, the entity’s hand pulled back, rubbing one more careless pattern into your clit before falling away completely. You let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and disappointment, letting one last disgusted shudder run through you before straightening your back and—

And forcing a palm over your mouth just in time for a tongue, wet and thick and cold, to run over your cunt, hauling you back to the edge just as quickly as you’d pulled away from it. It was rough, the texture too savage to be human, and so wet, the slick you’d been trying to ignore was immediately replaced with thick, freezing saliva. Even the length seemed designed to torture you – long enough to lap over your entrance and your clit in the same slow, aching stroke; to thrust into you and fill the space its fingers had left empty. Memories of a course on specialized biology resurfaced in the fog of forced pleasure and helpless confusion, something about the evolution of a giraffe’s tongue and then, in another lecture, of the practice of masturbation among dolphins as a marker of their intelligence. You’d hated that fucking class. You hated that you were thinking about it now, instead of doing anything useful.

Its tongue was wider, more flexible than its fingers had been. It didn’t have to stretch you open, no, not when it was big enough to keep you full as its tapered end curled and probed against the walls of your cunt. Two fingers pressed into your clit, drawing loose patterns while its tongue split you open so gracelessly, so brutally, it almost circled back around to feeling good. You didn’t try to stop yourself from grinding into it, anymore, letting your legs twitch and your hips buck freely as it worked, as it tore you apart with all the care of a predator gnawing at slabs of raw meat. Every scrap of your limited energy was devoted to keeping yourself quiet, to stifling the needy whimpers and little whines that managed to escape despite your best efforts to silence them. That terrible buzzing seemed to grow stronger, now intense enough to send pulsing jolts of pure electricity from your pussy to your core, and you doubled over, blunt nails biting into your own skin as that thing finally shoved you over the side and brought your body to a trembling, blinding orgasm.

It nursed you through your climax, and as the euphoria faded and the aftershocks dulled into sharp, searing pangs, you managed to speak, your voice hushed and shaking for reasons that were entirely beyond your control. “Go away,” you forced out, praying that your interviewer had left the building, that there had never been a research center here at all and you were just sitting in a condemned building crying about nothing because grief had driven you insane weeks ago and you were just too lost in your own delusions to notice. “Please, go away.”

There was a second of hesitation, a lingering chill against the inside of your thigh, and the entity chose to show its first sign of mercy and finally, finally leave – its cold tongue lapping over your cunt one more time before disappearing completely. You had a second to pull yourself into a more dignified position, another to make sure you didn’t look like someone who’s just gotten finger-fucked by a ghost in the empty office of a higher-up who had to already think you were some mad-scientist reject before the door swung open, your interviewer stepping back in and smiling at you as if nothing in the world could’ve possibly been wrong.  

His eyes flickered over your hollowed expression, your wide eyes, your unsteady posture as he handed you a lukewarm bottle of water. You could only wonder why it’d taken him so long to get. “Are you…” A pause, a slight wince. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice. “…feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” you said, your voice hoarse, barely audible. You managed to brace yourself on the arms of your chair, pulling yourself upward and leaving the bottle forgotten in your lap. You didn’t want to drink anything. Not until your hands stopped shaking, at least.

“I think we were talking about my qualifications?”

~

You got the job, despite everything. They asked you to start as soon as you could, but you’d made your excuses, cited a half-remembered clause that’d come with your suspension package and got whoever was in-change of that kind of thing to hold the position for another month. You couldn’t imagine willingly stepping back into that building again, not yet. You couldn’t imagine doing much of anything, not when he still hung over your life like the smoke of a funeral pyre.

It'd been a bad idea, looking back on it. You should’ve worked harder to get yourself out of your stifling apartment. You should’ve done more to keep up with the friends you’d pushed away after the incident, to make sure you didn’t leave yourself socially isolated and alone. You should’ve left town. You should’ve fled the country.

You should’ve done everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up where you were now, facing down the thing that was currently standing in your bathroom doorway.

Your ghost, you figured – even if it’d been weeks since you genuinely thought you were only dealing with a run-of-the-mill haunting. It looked… blurry, for lack of a more creative descriptor; the white, chalky outline of a humanoid figure standing sharply out against the entirely black background. If it had a body, it was lost in the shadows of the hallway beyond, the shadows it’d created when it appeared out of nowhere and took every light bulb in your apartment out with a single pulse of extra-dimensional energy. Right now, the only source of light was the phone you were clutching in your right hand, your left similarly preoccupied, busy keeping your suddenly very, very thin towel wrapped around your torso. It probably didn’t matter. As far as you could tell, this thing didn’t have eyes, let alone genitalia.

That was what the rational, scientific part of your brain said, at least. The rest was replaying the memory of the way its hand had felt as groped at your thighs and couldn’t seem to comprehend much else.

You half-expected it to lunge at you, or rather, to creep at you, to disappear and reappear just outside of your peripheral, too far to see but close enough to sense. In the end, it only had to take a step forward, its movements slow and jerky, as if it wasn’t used to carrying its own weight just yet. Did it even weigh anything? Could you weigh something that clearly wasn’t supposed to exist? It didn’t really matter. You already knew it could touch you. You already knew it could kill you, if it wanted to.

Another step, then another. It closed the distance between you easily, coming to a stop less than arm’s length in front of you. You could see it more clearly, make out a smear of color in the void, like light catching on an oil spill. The white lines that bordered its form were moving in a way you hadn’t been able to make out from across the room, too; trembling and shaking, constantly shifting as if it was only ever a second away from falling apart entirely. If you weren’t so scared, you’d be tempted to reach out, see what happened when you made contact with it, rather than the other way around. If you weren’t so afraid, you might’ve been able to do anything.

It lifted a hand, reaching towards you with those same unnatural movements. Its fingertips brushed over your skin, painting a strip of frost across your cheek, and you felt your blood turn to ice. You couldn’t hear the buzzing, but then again, it might’ve just been a sign that you’d already gone deaf with fear.

You opened your mouth, but speech was hindered, your internal monologue limited to a never-ending mantra of ‘go away go away go away go away go away’. Eventually, you managed to spit something out, even if your voice was barely above a whisper by the time it reached your lips. “I don’t want you here.”

There was a second of stillness, of silence. You started to wonder if you’d made it angry, if it could be angry. You started to wonder if it could understand you at all.

Your makeshift flashlight wavered, sputtering a few times before giving out completely. You scrambled to turn it back on, to not be left alone in the dark with a monster, but your apartment flickered back to life and you found yourself standing alone, the entity having blinked out of reality in the time it took your eyes to adjust to the light. The only proof that it’d been there at all was your dead phone and how violently your hands were still shaking.

You considered leaving your apartment. You considered leaving the city – renting a car and driving as far as you were able to. You’d sleep in whatever shady, cheap motels would have you, start a new life across the country with only your meager savings and multiple PhDs to keep you afloat. You’d change your name. You’d get away from here, away from it. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, now that the infestation had spread to your sanctuary, too.

You took a shuddering breath, then set your phone down and let your towel fall away. You didn’t bother getting dressed before climbing into bed and curling up underneath your sheets, hoping in-vain that your comforter would be enough to hide you from any unseen voyeurs.

Some part of you must’ve already known that it wouldn’t.

~

You couldn’t remember waking up.

You must’ve, at some point. But, if you had, you would’ve remembered being brought here, would’ve been able to recognize the feeling of countless hands wrapping around your wrists, your ankles; countless mangled tendrils tangling around your fingers and dripping down your arms, snaking up your legs until you were entirely at its mercy. The numbers didn’t add up. There were too many hands, too many moving parts, too many things for your confusion-addled mind to keep track of. You couldn’t seem to figure out if you were suspended mid-air or if the gravity was different, if you were genuinely as weightless as you felt. That, more than anything, fueled the growing nausea twisting in the pit of your stomach, the growing sense of wrongness that threatened to tear away what little stability you had left. What little sanity you had left.

You tried to look past the awful things wrapped around you, to ground yourself with something beyond shifting colors and distorted limbs, but whatever pocket dimension you’d been dragged into didn’t offer much comfort. An expanse of white stretched on as far as you could see, only interrupted by free-floating pools of pure darkness; drops of ink spilled across an otherwise blank canvas. Occasionally, the landscape would waver, leaving you in a pure void broken up by streaks of colorless flesh that’d burn themselves into your sight and linger as phantom visions for seconds after the false reality corrected itself. Even the feeling of its skin against yours was off-putting, unsettling, lacking the warmth that would’ve accompanied the touch of anything human. Where there should’ve been comfort, there was nothing, a total absence of life and familiarity to a degree you’d never experienced before. Where there should’ve been intimacy, there was strangeness, and you’d never taken well to strangeness.

A pang of pure ache ran from your cunt to your core, a sort of numbing electricity that made your legs twitch and your body seize. Right, you’d managed to forget. It was touching you, beyond just the hands shackled around your wrists and ankles and the amorphous tendrils laving over any part of you they could reach. Two fingers kept your pussy spread open and vulnerable while a thick, tapered tendril thrust into you at the kind of idle, languid pace that was simultaneously infinitely merciful and too agonizing to put words to. That was one of the only things you could feel – the agonizing stretch, the tight knot of tension sitting in the pit of your stomach. If you’d been able to move anything beyond your eyes, you might’ve gagged. If your body had been something tangible, something real, you might’ve felt sick.

The tendril curled inside of you, and every fiber of your being seemed to wither. Struggling was pointless, but you still had to try, thrashing against your restraints, digging your nails into that obsidian flesh and praying to whichever deity would listen that it wouldn’t think to fight back. Fortunately, your blunt nails and weak thrashing didn’t seem to faze it. You weren’t sure if it knew you were there beyond some unconscious tactile sense, like a freshly triggered venus flytrap closing around its victim. You weren’t sure which was more horrific – the idea that there was some sentient, self-aware being knowingly and decisively doing this to you, or the passing thought that you’d just been caught in the mouth of some mindless creature that happened to like the way you tasted.

You decided not to think about it. You decided not to think about anything. You decided that, if you kept your mind totally blank, if you refused to count how many times you’d caught a lingering shadow in the corner of your eye or felt a stray hand brush against the small of your back, if you refused to feel its disembodied tendril filling your cunt, then none of this was happening, then you weren’t trapped in an plane of endless nothingness and you weren’t being fucked by the monster that’d been haunting you for months, now. You clenched your eyes shut and promised yourself that you couldn’t feel its dulled tip rubbing against that sensitive, softened spot inside of you, that your hips didn’t buck as another hand appeared from a puddle of kaleidoscopic ink and pressed three fingers into your abused clit, that it didn’t matter if warmth was starting to pool in your core because it couldn’t matter.

Ignoring it wasn’t an option, though. It wouldn’t let you ignore it – its pace changing, speeding up, getting rougher as you failed to stifle your reactions, failed to swallow down the little gasps and moans that slipped past your parted lips. It was almost brutal in its unyieldingness, fucking into you with enough force to bruise as you writhed and scratched and screamed. There was no remorse, no care, just its forceful affection and your body’s response. Another tendril wrapped around your midriff, another hand falling to your chest, and you let out a long, wordless cry. The entity reacted immediately, the blunt head of a tendril forcing its way past your lips and lodging itself in your throat, forcing you to gag around its bulk. It smelled like ozone – fresh and thrilling and terrible all at once. It tasted organic.

This one, mercifully, didn’t seem to want to hurt you. It seemed content to explore you, to twist around your tongue and prod at every corner of your mouth. Still, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chest as you attempted not to choke, as you tried not to let the deformed mass fucking into your cunt tear you apart. Your vision was distorted, blurred and darkened around the edges, but you forced yourself to open your eyes, to stare blankly at the new well of ink forming some indescribable distance above you. It was bigger than the others, soon interrupted by a border of white appearing in the darkness, the shape wavering, sketchy, like chalk line drawn with an unsteady hand. Eventually, you made out a shape not unlike the one you’d seen in your apartment all those weeks ago, the ghostly entity that’d barely had to lift a finger to terrify you. This one was different, though – harsher, flitting and flashing in and out of existence faster than you could comprehend. If it’d been a breath away from falling apart the last time you saw it, reality was struggling to hold itself together around it, now.

A head emerged from the darkness, then a neck, then the entity’s broad shoulders. A hand materialized, extending from the pull of darkness and reaching towards you, towards the mess of dark matter and appendages that now all-but entirely encompassed your form. Its fingertips brushed against your jaw, then cupped your cheek, it’s touch careful, ginger, cautious. As if it was trying to be gentle with you. As if it was trying to be loving.

You’re not sure what part of your exhausted mind made the connection, which piece slid into place first. You let your head lull to the side, your jaw fall limp around the tendril in your mouth. You grunted, a premature attempt to speak that it could separate from all the other meaningless, ragged sounds that’d been forced out of you by its invasive touch, and the tendril pulled back, wrapping loosely around your neck. It still took you a moment to find your voice, but you managed to spit out something nearly coherent.

“…Jonathan?”

For a moment, the hands wrapped around your limbs loosened, the tendril attempting to split you in two faltering and before going still.

Then, there was a resounding, resonating purr that seemed to emanate from every corner of the micro-dimension. When the tendril started to move again, it thrusted into you with twice the force, twice the mania. This time, you didn’t have to pretend. You were floating on air, your thoughts blank and your mind empty – your body numb and unfeeling. This time, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away.

This time, you didn’t even bother to try.

[reareaotaku]

Apple of My Eye

Summary: You finally make it up to Jon and share a special moment with Damian. Tw: Joker Mentioned ew!! Taglist: @vxnom100, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch Part I | Part II [Pretty sure the third photo is an AI generate image because of the neck area specifically...]

You walked back and forth in front of the high school. The boys were in their final years, you think[?], of high school. You weren't sure, since you had never gone to any human school. Your mother had thought it would be bad for you. You think it was more about her not trusting teenage boys around you.

You perk up when you see the familiar pair. You wave to the males and Jon quickly perks up and pushes his way through the crowd. Damian isn't as quick, but he still walks behind Jon.

Jon rushes into your arms, nearly exposing his super speed, as he grabs you and lifts you into the air, squeezing you tightly.

"Y/n, I thought you were mad at me," He frowns at his words, giving you a puppy dog look.

"Mad at you? I could never."

He lightens up and smiles sheepishly.

Damian watches in annoyance, rolling his eyes. He grabs his phone when feeling it buzz. It was alerting him that you were near. He really should lower that volume on the tracker.

---

Your eyes followed the many people who were enjoying there night. Next to you was Damian in his Robin get-up. You thought he still looked as cute as he did when he was a kid, but you wouldn't dare say such a thing. You knew he'd kill you.

"It's quiet tonight."

You nod, not turning to him, keeping your attention focused on the streets. Nights like this were nice though. There was nothing to worry about, just you and your partner.

"It's... actually really quiet. Has it been this quiet in Gotham for a while?"

"Well, Harley left Joker, so Gotham's criminals took a left turn. They started to fight each other inside of civilians. Makes our jobs easier."

You turn around, taken by surprise. "Harley left Joker?" You then huma and nod, "That makes sense. They were awful together. She was way to good for that guy."

"They're villains, Y/n."

"So? Harley is a genius- Or was, before he destroyed her. I don't know what I'd do if a man did to me what Joker did to Harley."

"I'd beat a guy's ass if he ever even thought of doing you dirty like that, Y/n."

Your face turns a light pink and you turn away from Damian in hopes he doesn't see it. "Well, I'm glad I can count on you."

"You'll always have me, Y/n."