#yandere platonic

[thecloudsaremyhome]

Imagine being the first born to the yandere fae king, even though you were his first born he has no reason to spend time with you, feeling as if you are an inconvenience. he only married your mother for political reasons after all so their was no sense of love.

This of course hurts. You that he doesn't feel any ounce of love for you, only a duty subjected on him. But then he had to go and fall in love with a human, who came to this paradise of your world on a coincidence, an it hurts even more that he doesn't even spare you and your mother a glance at all. To enormed with who h calls his true love. It shouldn't hurt but it does.

But then she got pregnant. An suddenly you weren't his only child, he devoted his heart an soul into his true love and their precious baby that you were left in the dust and the worst part is, you don't understand why? Why can't he love your mother like h loves that human woman? Why can't he love you like he loves his precious second child.

It was infuriating, an you made it known of your displeasure, not carrying of the consequences, but the human doesn't seem to mind in your displeasure toward her no she embraces it, because that's the only form of attention you'll give her and yes she has a child now but that doesn't stop her from loving you the same!

She just wished she was your real mother, well she could make due until she could frame you precious mother and be the only mother in your eyes, but first her husband needs to pay attention to you first.

Authors note: this idea just came out of nowhere, should I make this into a oneshot?

[maliciouscottonball]

You Found Him

Platonic Yandere! John “Soap” McTavish x GN! Reader

Wordcount: 2220

AN: I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Soap is a little much a lot of the time and I wanted to write something that reflected that. It’s a bit shorter than usual but the big guy is more of a short and sweet type and I’m working on more stuff so I’m chilling with it. Happy Mother’s Day to all of the moms and mom adjacent individuals out there! Y’all are real ones. Another major thank you to @foolphenomenon for beta reading for me!!!

TW: Yandere behaviors, this man is nuts frfr, delusional behaviors, a very unhealthy attachment style, kidnapping, drugging with side effects, “I’ll find you” family dynamic

♡♡♡

Johnny was the type to cling onto any type of affection that he could get. He wasn't used to being able to have anyone to be affectionate with and he has a tendency to act like a stray dog, following anyone who treated him with an ounce of kindness. It was why he got attached to Simon so easily. It was why he obeyed every order that came out of John's mouth. It was why he never missed a hang out with Gaz on the rare occasion that they both were on leave. 

He knew that he didn't have anything on Ghost's childhood but his wasn't exactly pleasant. He has plenty of brothers and sisters that he was pitted up against and starved of both food and attention in favor of. He had to fight for every scrap he got and only bulked up once he joined the military. It was easier than he was used to and he thrived. He still had a bit of an attitude problem and an authority problem but he liked his job and did his best to do well.

He was used to being treated almost like a piece of meat when he was off duty. He knew that he was a pretty boy and he got plenty of attention at bars and clubs thanks to it. It felt transactional and hollow to him in the end. He didn't like how there wasn't truly any affection to any of the contact. He wanted something more. He wanted the relationship that he craved from his siblings growing up. He already had the approval that he wanted from the captain, the one that replaced the approval from his parents that he was desperate for. He had his friends and every other part of his life was fulfilling except for at home. He wanted something pure and good and innocent and he would kill to get it.

He went looking for someone that would be a good little sibling. He wanted to be treated with the admiration that he felt an older brother should get. He wanted to teach someone new skills and have them love him more than anyone else. He was excited to be able to have someone to care for and come home to when he was on leave. He was desperate to have someone that loved him as much as he loves them.

He looked everywhere that he thought the perfect little sibling would be, regardless of whether he was on or off of duty. He visited book stores, libraries, craft stores, cafes, and restaurants. He searched through video game stores, comic book shops, sporting goods stores, and anywhere else that he could think of. He was getting impatient. He couldn't find anyone that he thought would be good enough. Not until he ordered some new clothes online and came face to face with you.

He had a tiny cottage off base where he had all of his packages delivered. It served as an excellent place to crash on leave and as an even better place to relax with the team. It was a typical bachelor pad, minus most of the mess, and it was where he called home. He could afford it and it was nice to be able to have somewhere to call his own. He was playing a game on his couch when he heard a knock at the door. He lazily got up and opened the door, looking down at you with a startled expression.

“John McTavish?” You chirped.

He couldn't believe it. You were right there. You were so young and adorable. He wanted to scoop you up right there.

“That's me.” He said, looking down at you with starry eyes.

You were perfect. He was so happy that you were finally here with him. He didn't know how you found him but he was so excited to have you. He didn't have a room set up for you but he was happy to give up his room and sleep on the couch until he figured out how to turn his weapons room into a bedroom for you. He already adored you.

“Sign here please.” You said with a smile.

He blinked as you held out a clipboard. Oh. He didn't notice the box that you were holding. He paused for a moment. He carefully signed his signature and delicately took the box from you. His hands briefly brushed yours and he couldn’t help but smile a bit wider. It was the first time that he had ever touched his new little sibling. It was a magical moment for him and he knew that he had to record it so that you two could look back on it.

He then realized something a bit important. You hadn’t been seeking him out to meet your new big brother and were instead just doing your job. That was okay. It was actually better than okay! It meant that your meeting was fate. It was destiny that you both would meet and become family. He looked surprised as you thanked him and took your clipboard back. Where were you going? You hummed as you walked back down to your van.

You happily sat in your van and checked the address for your next delivery. You brushed off the excitement of the man and just went about the rest of your day. You were used to people being a bit too eager for their packages. It wasn't anything new for you. It was rare that someone wasn't excited to get their purchases. He just watched as you drove off and felt a bit empty again when he was alone.

Johnny hurried inside to get a pen and his journal. He didn’t even sit down before he started to sketch you. He didn’t stop until it looked exactly like him. He smiled at the picture and then started obsessively writing every single detail that he could remember. He wrote about how your uniform was a little too big for you and how cute it was. He wrote about the sparkle in your eyes as you looked up at him, as if you knew that he was supposed to be your big brother. He sighed happily as he wrote about your sweet little smile and how well you did your job.

He felt pleased with his entry to his journal. He looked it over and grinned. He’d have to do some research on you, his new baby sibling.

It was definitely wrong to use the computers at work to learn everything about you but he figured that it would be alright. He was your new brother, after all. He had to make up for lost time. He needed to know how to be a brother that you would want. He showed Simon the picture that he drew of you, earning a nod from him. That was enough to keep him going. Johnny knew that Simon was an awful lot like him, even if Simon didn’t like to show it. It was why they got along so well. 

By the end of the week, he knew everything. He was good with technology, being a demolitions expert. It was his job to be good at it. He learned about everything you liked and disliked, where your favorite places to go were and where you hated, and every other possible thing about you. He started getting cute clothes and shoes for you, beaming at you when you delivered them for him. He knew that you didn’t know what was in the packages but he was sure that you would love everything he bought for you.

At night, Johnny would just think about all of the fun things you both would do together. He wanted to have movie nights where you’d both gorge yourselves on junk food and cry laughing at inside jokes. He wanted to go on road trips and chat about anything and everything. He wanted to buy you anything you wanted and see you smile at him. He wanted to see you looking up at him in awe when he tells you about the cool things that he’s done on missions.  He wanted to see your eyes light up when he rigs up an explosion that you can both watch safely. He’s sure that you love explosions too. You’re his sibling so he’s sure that it’s in both of your natures.

He knows that he can be more than a little excitable and aggressive. It’s how he’s always been and he did his research on your personality so he knows that you both are going to get along like a house on fire. That's why he gets so confused when you wake up in his cottage and start struggling against your restraints. He didn’t think that you’d actually get scared. He figured you’d both get a laugh out of it and then you’d eat the lunch that he made for you.

“Hey, hey, calm down jus’ a wee bit, kiddo. I need ye ta relax. You know me! It’s just Johnny!” He coos at you.

You continue to struggle in the ropes binding your hands and feet. He had tucked you into your new bed after drugging you in your apartment and bringing you home. If it weren’t for the duct tape over your mouth, you would’ve looked like the perfect little angel while you were sleeping. He frowned. Maybe tying you up wasn’t as funny of a prank as he thought it would be. He hummed and patted your head while you squirmed, then carefully took the duct tape off of your mouth. 

“There we are! Look at ya! Cutest lil’ thing on the planet. C’mon, let’s get those nasty ropes off o’ ya. I’ll admit it’s nae my best joke but I made some sandwiches for us. Got some crisps too for while we’re watching our show together.” He said cheerfully, quickly undoing the ties of your restraints and tossing you over his shoulder like a weightless sack of potatoes.

The world was spinning and you were trying your best not to throw up. You could barely understand what he was saying and everything was blurry. You weakly grabbed onto the back of his shirt for stability, which he took as a sign that you were warming up to him already even though you were out of it.

“My cooking isn’t that bad bu’ I think I’ll order us somethin’ fur dinner. It’s a very special occasion, after all! I finally get to live with my favorite lil sweetie!” He said happily.

His words were loud and made you wince. You had a splitting headache and he was too excited about having you over that he didn’t notice. He happily plopped you onto the couch, hurrying towards the kitchen and grabbing two plates and a family sized bag of chips. He sat down next to you, tucking you next to him and snuggling you up to him. He put your plate on your lap. The sandwich on it was massive and you wouldn't normally be able to finish it, let alone when you have such an upset stomach. He wrapped an affectionate arm around you as he turned on the TV to one of the cartoons that he liked as a kid.

“This is great, right? Your first day with your big brother and we're already having a grand time. I love you, kiddo. I really do.” He murmured before opening the large bag of chips and placing it between the both of you on both of your laps.

You were so out of it that you just watched the show on the screen. You barely noticed the man next to you scarfing down his own equally large sandwich and then eating plenty of the chips. He looked down at you occasionally, smiling as he watched you. He figured that you were just sleepy and easily entertained. He seemed overjoyed to be sitting on the couch next to the drugged up delivery person.

“No’ hungry, are ye? That's okay. Ye can eat whene’er ye want. I don't mind.” He said in a genuine tone. It was clear that he wanted you to feel comfortable. 

It made him happy that you were just sitting there with him. He gently petted the top of your head, clearly doing his best to be gentle with you. He enjoyed being able to hold you like this. It made him feel like this was real. He liked feeling like he had a new little sibling to look after. He reached over and grabbed a blanket, lifting up your plate and carefully putting it over you. He put your plate down on your lap and settled back in, all but hugging you as he goes back to watching the show.

When you inevitably pass out from the drug in your system hitting you hard for a second time, he sighs happily and just keeps snuggling you. He was so happy that you were finally home with him. He figured that you were just a bit tired and needed your beauty sleep. He was perfectly fine with that. He was going to make sure that you got everything that you wanted or needed, including a doting older brother.

[acosmicbee]

can you write about Yandere Lamia (snake lady) and a child reader who gets lost in the woods and thinks they're about to be eaten by the Lamia, but she's just happy to have another baby after her children left her nest

Off Limit Island

(Kinda followed your idea, kinda did my own thing - hope you like it!)

"I hate hiking. I hate hiking. It's the worst. Please kill me." You sang under your breath, to the tune of frere jacques, yelping when your foot hit a patch of mud and you almost lost your balance.

At first, accompanying your father on one of his journeys had seemed fun. While he explored some super dangerous, top secret island that almost no one got to go to, researching all the snake species, you got to chill on the beach and swim and say you had been there. Win win.

However, everything seemed to go downhill rather quickly. The currents in the water were way too strong for even a good swimmer, and in seconds you could be pulled out to sea. There was also no civilization, due to the top secret stuff, meaning no running water or electricity.

You only had a tiny tent to sleep in and a small backpack full of clothes and necessities. You couldn't afford to lose anything when you were already working with so little.

Then the rain storm had hit. It had been dusk and you'd just started the fire to heat up some food because your dad still wasn't back. It was bland and premade stuff, very similar to military rations. You hadn't even started boiling the water when the sky opened up and drenched you.

You got even wetter dragging tarps over yours and your dad's tents to keep as much water out as possible. It didn't work perfectly which sucked because your only means of communication, a walkie talkie, got some water in it.

You'd tried reaching your dad but either he was out of range or his walkie was even more soaked than yours, so much for boasting 'waterproof' on the box.

You hadn't eaten that night, the rain still pouring down and eliminating any possibility of a fire. You'd laid at the entrance to your tent, staring out across the sandy beach at the forest that your father was still in. You hoped he was okay.

You woke up later that night to the rumble of thunder. You peeked out the entrance to your tent and in a brief flash of lightning you saw several reflective eyes peering at you from the dense foliage. You froze in horror, but they were gone by the time the next strike of lightning illuminated the area. You had trouble falling back asleep, not managing until hours later.

The next morning either your dad still wasn't back or he'd already come and left while you slept. It wasn't uncommon, especially with how late you'd slept in due to your fitful sleep the prior night. You spent the rest of the day tipping water out of anything remotely bowl-like and trying to find any kind of dry wood and tinder to use for fire.

It was useless and you went to bed hungry again, marking a full day and a half without eating. It hurt and you had trouble sleeping, trying not to cry as you curled up in your tent, debating whether the stomach problems from eating uncooked food would be worse than the pain of hunger.

You woke up to a bird outside your tent. It was dead with two pin prick marks on it's obviously broken neck. You didn't know who had left it there, and even if you trusted it you had no idea how to cook a bird from scratch.

It was sheer luck you were finally able to find some dry wood. You practically cried as you rushed to start a fire, fumbling with the matches as you lit some dry, dead grass alight. You ate two whole rations, finally satiated as you lethargically poked at the fire with a stick.

You were about to enter a food coma when you heard a crackle from your, surprisingly, not fully broken walkie. Instantly you snatched it up hearing as your dad's voice trickled through in broken, static-y bursts.

"Y/N...? Can... hear me...? Come in..." You fumbled for the right buttons, answering quickly.

"Dad? Dad are you alright? I haven't seen you in ages and I was getting worried!" You listened impatiently to the static, waiting for a reply.

"I... mistake... find me... cave... need you... careful..." You couldn't even hear a full sentence of what he'd said due to the water damage but you got the gist. He needed your help and he was in a cave... except you weren't the explorer, he was.

"You need help? Is there some sort of map I can use to find you?" You asked, grabbing some clothes you wouldn't mind getting ruined hiking through the forest.

"Y/N... coast... give... journal... big... handle..." Fewer and fewer words were getting through as your walkie gave into the damage, but you knew what you had to do.

You entered your dad's tent, easily finding the spare journal he kept. In the middle was a rough map he'd started sketching of the island and in it a few caves were labeled as well as their relative size.

With newfound determination you set out with nothing but your dad's journal, and the clothes on your back. You were oblivious to what the full message you were actually supposed to get was.

"I made a mistake Y/N. Don't try and find me, avoid any caves and stay on the beach. I need you to be extra careful."

"Y/N, I said don't try and find me! Please call the coast guard- the military!- and give them my journal! This is too big and dangerous for you! Let them handle it!"

* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。🐍* 。° 。* 。 • ˚

That led you to now, trekking through the humid forest singing a song about how much you hated hiking. But you could do this, you were going to save your dad like he had asked.

You frowned at the map, studying the rough map that had been drawn and squinting at the forest all around you. Why couldn't your dad have been an artist instead of a snake researcher?

Eventually, you found a weird rock he'd added on the map as a landmark. Peering right, you spotted a small opening in the base of a large rocky cliff. You didn't plan to go deep into it as you squeezed inside, it wasn't like you had a flashlight or anything.

This time when your foot hit a slippery patch of rock you slipped, you couldn't even scream as you slid down something, flying onto the dry floor of a large chamber. The walls were lined with torches and there was an open hallway in front of you.

Nervously you grabbed one of the torches from its mount, gripping the base as you nervously walked deeper.

This looked like a whole developed civilization, and you would've thought it was ancient if the torches weren't all lit and the hall didn't smell like a strong incense.

It wasn't until you heard some approaching noises did you finally realize just how stupid of an idea this was. You placed the torch in an open holder before ducking into an alcove.

You held back a scream as two figures walked- no, slithered- past your hiding spot. They were human, at least from the torso and up. Below that they had long, powerful-looking snake tails. You couldn't understand them but they seemed to be in a good mood, light hissy laughter echoing through the stone hallway long after they were out of sight.

You grabbed the torch off the wall, going as fast as you dared to while peeking into any hallway you passed. You once again had to hide when you heard someone coming down the hallway.

It was a woman-snake thing. She looked ecstatic and regal compared to the others and she was happily hissing to the others accompanying her. The second they had past you ducked into the room she had just come from.

You set the torch in one of the open holders, seeing as the room was well-lit. It was filled with large plush pillows of varying sizes as well as some fur blankets. In the middle of it all was your dad, who looked just as confused as you.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" He asked, standing up.

"Rescuing you? Like you said?"

"I told you to stay on the beach!" He hissed, looking around frantically. "I explicitly told you not to come!"

"My walkie is destroyed, be happy I could understand anything at all!" You said back, crossing your arms. "So you were just chilling here with the snake people while I was fighting for my life? I had to hunt a bear!"

"No, you didn't." He said, sounding more exhausted than you'd ever heard him.

"I basically had to hunt a bear." You said, crossing your arms and eyeing the bowl of what looked to be dried meat beside him. "So, you coming or not? Let's go."

"Y/N, I really can't. You need to leave before-!" The door to the room slammed open and you turned, now face to face with the snake woman from earlier.

She seemed a bit confused for a second before her face lit up in pure joy. In an instant, you were being wrapped in a hug and coiled by her tail while your dad let out a pained-sounding sigh. "You need to leave before she finds you."

The woman hissed something, holding your face as she inspected you. Upon seeing your lack of reaction she blinked before switching languages. "My ssscoutsss didn't tell me just how absssolutely adorable your hatchling wasss! You ssshould've mentioned it!"

"Dad?!" You nervously called, trying to squirm out of her grasp. "Dad, she's touching me! I wanna go home now!"

"You are home, sssilly little one. I'm so happy! Not only did I find a sssquishy new mate but my nessst is full again! I've been ssso lonely sssince my last hatchlingsss moved into their own nessstsss with their mates, but now I have you two!"

"Yeah, now you see why I told you to stay on the beach." Your dad said, watching you get smothered by a loving snake-mom.

"Well, I'm sorry while you were all dry and pampered down here I was fighting for my life! It rained for like 3 days!"

"One and a half daysss, dear. And my ssscoutsss were watching over you." The snake woman hummed, before picking you up.

"Come on dear, you too sssquishy mate. I'll ssshow you the bathing chambersss ssso you can wash all this mud off!" She giggled, already carrying you away. "Perfect way to begin your new life, little one! Let usss ssscrub away the old ssso we can welcome the new."

Your dad just shrugged, following along behind her. "Well... at least I don't have to worry about how you're faring all alone."

"I am going to get my revenge." You vowed sulkily, whining when the snake woman began brushing her fingers through your tangled hair. "Who are you and what is this place anyway?"

"Ah, where are my mannersss? My name is Adhya, ruler of the sssnakefolk. Thisss, asss well asss the isssland above, isss my kingdom. My home. And now, it isss yoursss asss well!" She smiled as she entered a large chamber filled with steam. "Now, it'sss time to get you cleaned up, yesss?"

You can now say you knew exactly why this island was off limits to the general public. Because it hosted a population of cuddly snake people who would never let you go once they had you in their coils. At least you were taken in by their queen and you weren't alone. With how attached she was, you'd likely never be alone again. But hey, at least your dad is suffering with you.

[thewritingfairy]

It kinda ironic that now Bruce wants to be a dad to us the moment we are done with them as a whole, and he's now just realizing about our medical history, haven't you stopped to think oh maybe I should see how my kid is doing physically and mentally,or oh maybe I should take them to the doctor to make sure they are healthy (because where I come from it is a requirement to have a yearly checkup until you turn 18) but no he just stayed as oblivious as ever never stopping to think, oh is my first born doing alright? Are they doing okay?

But no he's just as petty and oblivious as the rest an that's the nail in the coffin for me because Sir?! How dare you now try to be a father to (name) when you were never one before to begin with! At this point I hope w get a father figure to rub ur in Bruce's face how shitty he is. Sorry for the long rant! I'm just very done with Bruce's shit! Thats how much I love you're writing!

story mentioned: જ⁀➴Nobody's child

Well yandere's are not meant to be selfless, at least not the ones I write about, unless they are self-aware/lucid.

The batfamily is abusive in my story, they are not good. They are exactly all you should avoid in real life, the type of people I would warn you about if you get in a relationship.

Bruce especially, he's your father, he should care of you. Love you, protect you and this is the issue with him. He feels like he needs to have that image towards you, towards the world. If he isn't the loving father who's also a playboy it feels like his ‘normal’ life would be destroyed.

Bruce is selfish, Bruce is actually what he fights against. He just as a moral code that makes him seem like the hero.

[gracemain919]

(Everyone Needs a Mother)

Summary: Your home is now bombarded by monstrous sisters that think your their mother, and you don't know how to deal with it.

Tw: Platonic Yandere, slight mentions of a kidnapping.

(I wrote this for fun. I will lock in eventually)

A Crowded ‘Home’

You have never been one to have much company. In all honesty, you have barely cared about having people over. Your apartment almost always stayed empty, now… Well, things are different. Not only is your own freaking door locked, but you have four people inside your home who won't leave you alone. You have tried to break it down, call for help or the help of the police, or negotiate with them, but they would just not listen. Which was expected…

“Ohh. What are you doing?” An excited voice spooked you, a familiar girl grinning beside you. She watched you solve your boredom with a puzzle in your living room, which was a new low, even for you.

“Just… I'm just doing this puzzle. Go with your sister. I bet they're busy with my phone and computer.” Lilia chuckled, grabbing a stray piece from your table and putting it close to her face. “Hm. No. I want to be here with you. Show me how to play this game-”

“Mother, what are you doing?” A woman asked from behind you. Her irritated tone immediately gave away who she was… Martha.

“Are you?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Did you break a picture into millions of pieces, just to piece it together?”

“What?” You were almost baffled, but the girl beside you nodded enthusiastically. She poked at your arm and asked. “Mom, wow! Did you do that? That is so cool.”

“No! This is a game. It came like this and you're supposed to solve it, and why do you all care suddenly.” You were almost willing to pick up the game and throw it away. Better to die in boredom than this.

“Oh. Who wants to play that?” Martha asked. She walked over and grabbed the stray piece from Lilia’s hand, inspecting it between her clawy digits. She eyed the piece an idea showing in her eyebrows. Then suddenly she turned to the side, screaming with an abnormal volume: “Hey Nelith!”

“No, no.” You panicked. You contemplated rushing over to cover her mouth, but the sharp teeth-filled neck wasn't something you wanted to be anywhere near with.

“Our mother got this odd game. Do you know anything about it?”

“All I know is it looks like a good waste of time. Very wasteful. But. Good.” Another woman peeked through your bathroom door, and you were surprised by how quickly she reached the living room. Although, your apartment wasn’t that big to begin with.

“Do you here play this often?” Nelith asked while the little girl snatched the piece from Martha’s hand, celebrating her own victory.

“She only played this today. I was just asking her how to play.” Lilia said, only to be interrupted by you. “No. No. I'm going to my room. You can play this dumb game. I don't care” You snapped. It got too overwhelming and the only place you could cool off was in privacy. In your room, alone. Alone with no individual in your ear. Yet, they will drag you out.

Eventually.

[iamzer0]

May you please do yandere platonic season 2 squid game reader with 13 year old reader who wants to stay

Hi can do!

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Pʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ Sǫᴜɪᴅ Gᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ Tᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS)

You had managed to get yourself into the games, congratulations..! I guess..

You tried to blend in but you stuck out like a sore thumb.

So many people had questions especially this guy named Gi-hun.

For some odd reason he was very insistent on you leaving.

You just couldn’t understand why, all you were gonna do was play some silly games for some cash.

How dangerous can that be?

During the first game red light green light, you knew you had this in the bag.

That was until the first shot was fired, your entire body froze. Even with Gi-hun screaming instructions you were still frozen.

Even when people began to start moving again you stood there frozen.

Tears are down your face, you were terrified.

Then someone grabbed your shoulder, it was this lady with a lip ring(player380).

She guided you along the field.

You had 30 seconds left, the people that were at the finish line screamed words of encouragement towards you.

It was strange to have so many people cheering you on all at once.

You crossed the line finally, and collapsed into player 380’s arms.

After the game you sat on the floor, ignoring the sympathetic looks from others.

You sat there thinking on what to do.

Thats when player 388 came and sat with you, he introduced himself and his friends to you.

“Are you ok..?” Gi-hun asked in a tone that could only be described as pity.

“Yea.. I think” you said quietly.

That’s when armed guards came in, they told y’all about the voting system and how you could vote to stay in the game or not.

Everyone placed their votes when it was your turn the room became eerily silent.

You could feel everyone’s eyes staring at you. Your hand hovered over the X button but then you thought about it.

About your parents and their struggle, you thought about all the loans they had to take out just to keep you in school.

You hesitated before pushing the O button.

You heard a collection of gasps and cheers.

You slowly walked towards the O side avoiding Gi-Huns look of disbelief.

You were met with pats on the back and words of support.

Then in a flash you were pulled to the side by some purpled haired guy(thanos) he did his whole introduction.

You thought he was insane, he looked cracked out.

But every time you tried leaving he would pull you back.

He looked at you as if you were an artifact that needed safe keeping.

Fortunately you pulled away by dae-ho(388).

That was when you met player 001(frontman) he stared at you intensely studying you.

They questioned you on why you chose O but you didn’t feel like explaining yourself.

From then on you had multiple people trying to convince you to join their side. They wanted you to quit the game.

You protested you wanted to stay in, but no matter what you said they never let up.

You started to not like the people you were stuck with.

Part of the reason was they treated you like a baby, some of them even coddled you.

It was nice a first, people gave you some of their food, they lended their protection to you.

But in the end it became much more annoying rather than loving.

Around the second game is when things got really bad.

People all around you offering for you to join their team, you walked around until you got pulled onto Thanos team.

You were in charge or spinning top and all though you were good you could barely focus with all the people yelling.

You managed but not before yelling some very unkind words.

After the games you had people practically swarming you, you wanted to cry and throw up all at the same time.

Then a miracle happened, player 001 pulled you out of the crowd.

Yelling at them all while holding you close to himself.

He held you close for a while, it got kinda awkward after the first 20 minutes.

It was a very overwhelming experience being in the game, along with the killing games, people were starting to seriously scare you.

I mean they were having full on arguments over you. It was kinda insane.

Even the guards treated you differently, they gave you the occasional head pat after a game, they slipped you extra food, and no matter what time it was they always let you use the restroom.

It was nice to have so many people care about you but care becomes smothering after a while.

You started becoming the apple of everyone’s eye, everyone was just so 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.

A/n: I hoped you liked this one, I love u all so much bye bye✌︎('ω')✌︎

[impish-baby]

Another neglectful fam concept because why not..

Reader being some minor god, deemed mostly unimportant by the rest of their pantheon. They're more of a nuisance really, always following everyone around like a shadow.

Nothing can ever deter them for long, even if they go off to sulk after being yelled at, they're right back to it after a few moons have passed. So bothersome...

It all building up into an explosive fight, the earth itself trembling at the argument above the clouds.

Our godly reader trying to desperately plead their case, unable to control their form so they're constantly shifting between being a powerful diety and a hurt child..

Either cast away from the palace or reader themselves choosing to finally leave. No matter the case, they're gone.

Their divine family being happy at first, relieved.

You know how when kore was stolen, demeter was going to let eternal winter settle over the land and kill the mortals?

Everything is so... dull. It starts small at first, dismissable. Less people are creating, but humans are such fickle beings anyway, it's a coincidence. No matter that certain deities are getting less and less offerings, or that prayers are dwindling, or that people are calling out to reader only to receive no answer

There's not an undeniable absence making the gods' hearts ache, they aren't wrong for their decisions. They do not regret.

(...someone has to find reader.)

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Bruce: what do you want to be when you grow up?

Girlscout reader without missing a beat: A doctor!

*The rest of the batfam smiling*

Tim: oh, so you got it all planned out huh?

Jason: And how much are you gonna make?

Girlscout reader with the cutest smile: Im....I'm gonna make people feel better......

[yandere-writer-momo]

My take on the neglected spouse trope, but with a little spice. Short and to the point

Yandere Batman Shorts: Adorned In Pearls

Yandere Bruce Wayne x Neglected Wife Fem Reader x Yandere Batboys (platonic)

Tw: obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamic, power imbalance, time rewind, imprisonment (implied), death (beginning), and themes that should not be romanticized

“Put the jewels in the bag!” (Your name) didn’t even flinch when the intruder crudely held up his gun to her while she was in the kitchen. It seems her end was finally near at last. “Did you hear me?! Put your jewels in the bag!”

(Your name) calmly turned off the stove top while the intruder kept his voice raised. She had been working on breakfast for her ungrateful husband and her adopted children since they’d be back from patrol in a few hours. Alfred was in the Batcave which left her up here and vulnerable… not that they’d care.

“Let me turn off the stove so you don’t blow the place up if you shoot.” (Your name) calmly told him. She knew this would be a tragic end… and she looked forward to her suffering to end at last.

(Your name) unclasped the pearls from her neck and placed them in the burlap sack the burglar thrusted toward her with one hand. She then made her way to take off each piece of jewelry that was an empty gift from her husband. Even his mother’s ring he gave her for their opulent wedding.

“Code. Safe. Now.” The burglar demanded as he thrusted the gun in her chest.

“0219.” (Your name) calmly stated despite how terrifying the situation was. “It’s in the third room to the right.”

She could not get another word in before a searing pain filled her chest as a loud gunshot rung throughout the house. She glanced down at her chest at the bullet hole that was now through her chest cavity.

The burglar walked off while she sank to the floor in a heap. Her hands went to her phone to make a final call but… she knew no one from this house would answer. (Your name) was always an afterthought, and she believed she would be even in death.

So she dialed 911 and waited for the operator to answer. Her right hand was stained crimson as the viscous blood pooled around her like a grotesque blanket.

Once she heard the operated answer, (your name) cut them off, “There’s been a robber and murder at the Wayne manor.”

(Your name) then hung up and turned her gaze to the ceiling. If there was another life, she would be selfish and live for herself. She wouldn’t rot away like lettuce in the back of a fridge in this manor. No… she would have more respect for herself.

Breathe in… breathe out. She smiled in peace for the first time in years. She was finally free from this lonely nightmare she had been trapped in for nearly two decades. Maybe, she would finally deserve her chance to be loved as much as she loved back.

How was she to know the nightmare only just began?

.

.

.

(Your name) jolted awake, her wine glass nearly slipped from her hand from the sudden movement. A myriad of voices chattered in the opulent restaurant has her eyes glanced around the almost surreal scene.

This was the restaurant she had begged Bruce and the boys to come to for her birthday with her six years ago…

“ Mrs. Wayne, would you like another glass of water?” The familiar waiter came over with a pitiful expression that she had seared into her memory from all those years ago. The look almost every waiter gave her at any venue she went to.

“Actually, I’d like to order.” (Your name) smiled. “It’s my birthday… and I want to celebrate it for once.”

The waiter seemed surprised but happily took her order. This was the first time she had ordered rather than wait for hours for a family that wouldn’t come.

(Your name) smiled to herself, her gaze focused on the complementary wine glass that was brought to her by the wait staff. How sad was it that the stranger showed her more love than her own family?

She had a second chance… and she’d be damned if she wasted it.

.

.

.

After she had long left and enjoyed her meal, a dashing family of five hurriedly arrived to the restaurant.

Bruce Wayne looked slightly disheveled, but that didn’t take away from his charming good looks. The billionaire and his adopted sons hurriedly glanced around the restaurant for any sign of his wife and their mother. He knew she would be here… just like she always was that she waited for them.

They had all been given a second chance when they came home and found her small, lifeless body on the kitchen floor after patrol.

Never had they all cried so much as they cradled her cold, bloody form as they desperately tried to revive her. Each of them begged for another chance to love her properly.

Each of them had spent so much time finding the perfect gift to make up all the lost time up to her and to finally celebrate her birthday like a family… just like she always dreamed.

They had always kept their distance to keep her safe from their enemies. Yet they had instead created a giant misunderstanding. One that they all desperately needed to make up for.

“Do you think mother is still here? I hope she didn’t wait too long…” Damian muttered, his green eyes nervously searched for (your name)’s delicate form.

“She always waits for us. She loves us.” Dick reassured the others, yet they all knew it was more of a self reassurance. “She will be so happy…”

The wait staff seemed surprised but they did give the boys some glares.

“Jeez, what’s their problem?” Jason huffed as he put his hands in his pockets. He didn’t see her anywhere… he had gotten her a wonderful gift for once.

“I can look up her location.” Tim chimed in as he pulled out his phone. “She’s around, I’m sure.

It was Bruce who seemed to search the hardest for her. A bouquet of roses were clenched so hard in his fists that his knuckles turned white. He would make this all right again.

(Your name) was alive once more… and he would make sure she would never die or be hurt by anyone again. She’d be protected and cherished like she deserved.

“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Wayne left hours ago.”

The men all instantly deflated. She left? But she would always be here for hours for them… was there a possibility she returned in time too?

They all went back to the manor in haste. They wanted to celebrate her birthday with her… they wanted to celebrate so much with her. They wouldn’t let her be alone ever again.

.

.

.

(Your name) dipped her feet in the hot tub at the manor with a content sigh. Her lungs deeply inhaled the crisp night air with a dreamy sigh. This felt so peaceful. Why had she never celebrated her birthday like this before?

(Your name) didn’t even flinch when she heard the boys come home. Perhaps patrol ended early? It’s been so many years of being ignored that she hardly knew what went on in their lives.

She slipped the robe off and slid her swimsuit clad body into the comfortably hot water. Another sigh spilled through her lips, her muscles relaxed. This felt like heaven.

(Your name) jumped when Bruce suddenly slid the sliding door open with a loud whack. She was quick to cover her cleavage with her hands despite how this man was her legal husband.

“ Mr. Wayne? What are you doing here-“ Bruce was quick to close the distance and pull her into a hug. The muscular man shook like a leaf as he held her to him. His heart beats so fast, she swore it was about to burst.

“You’re alive… you’re okay…” (Your name) did a double take at his words. When did he ever care about her well-being?

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” There was no way he came back to the past too, right? Her original, neglectful husband would never hold her and bury his nose in her hair like this…

Yet here Bruce Wayne, her infamous billionaire, Playboy husband, was with his face borrowed into her skin. His nose deeply inhaled her scent like she was his favorite flower. He held her as if she was something precious, something he has never done in their two decades of marriage.

“What are you doing?” She asked, but he only held her tighter.

Bruce pulled back to study her face, is blue eyes were dark like a sea storm. His brows were furrowed in worry.

“Hugging my wife.”

A humorless chuckle bubbled from her chest. So now she was his wife? Since when has he treated her as such.

“Is this a joke?” She asked him despite how serious he looked. “I’m just a decorated house pet-“

Her eyes almost popped out of her head when he planted a searing kiss on her lips. A gasp escaped her as his tongue thrust its way into the cavern of her mouth and tasted every inch of it. His hands greedily grasped at her body.

“Wife… my wife.” Bruce whispered against her lips. “My beautiful wife.”

“Mister Wayne-“

“It’s Bruce.” His voice was authoritative as he cut her formalities off.

“…Bruce.” She sighed. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“I want you. I want my wife.” (Your name) squealed when h got into the hot tub with her to hair with her. “It’s your birthday today…”

He… he knew her birthday?

“I didn’t think you ever noticed...” She muttered, but he pressed his forehead to hers.

“All these years, we thought we were keeping you safe by keeping a distance. How foolish I was.” Bruce sighed. “You’re safer in our arms, in my arms.”

(Your name) was speechless when he pulled a gift box from his breast pocket and opened it to reveal an exquisite pearl necklace.

“You deserve to be adorned in pearls and jewels. To be pampered by me.” Bruce didn’t give her the chance to move away as he clasped the necklace around her.

Despite its elegance, (your name) couldn’t help the dread that pulled in her stomach. She could not stop the feeling that this pearl necklace was nothing more than a magnificent collar.

“You look so beautiful in those pearls… they were my mother’s, you know.” Bruce hummed as he picked her up and placed her on the edge of the hot tub.

Bruce placed her robe back over her form.

“Let’s get changed and go celebrate your birthday properly with the boys. They really want to see their mother.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “and after that, I think you and I can finally make up for all the lost time.”

(Your name) felt a tear roll down her face that Bruce took as a tear of joy. Yet only she knew the truth.

She had believed she would escape and find her own happiness, now she realize she would never escape this gilded cage.

[sangunary]

- Hush now Crybaby.

YANDERE BATFAMILY X NEGLECTED READER.

\\ Part 1 // \\ Part 2 // \\ Part 3 //.

You would stay by your rotting corpse, gently brushing your hair out of your face or just starting at it in general. Your corpse was becoming stiff and extremely cold, at times you tried to warm it by holding it.

A soft sigh left your mouth as you give up on trying to warmth the body display infront of you.

"How much longer do I have to wait...?"

You've been thinking alot, wondering why your body is still chained to Earth and you realised your physical body never got the rest it deserves.

The body laying on your coffin underground was a decoy made by your father, as twisted as it sound he only did it in hope of putting your soul back into the body.

Alfred and Bruce knew that, they knew that your current physical body was hidden inside the batcave. Alfred was hesitant at first but Bruce assure him that what he was doing might be morally wrong but it was the best option they have, if they want a new start.

Even after death nothing was better, your life only change slightly and it was for the worst. No one could see or interact with you, but you can uncover all the secrets which was alot more depressing than you expected.

You've found out how your mother died recently after a drug overdose... She was found stiff and unresponsive in her motel and a foam seeping out her mouth, surprisingly everything was clean, no missing things or any sing of struggle.

It was ruled as a sucide, the media claimed it as 'Woman killed herself after her daughter died of her neglection' it was Ironic... You couldn't help but stump your feet a little at that information, first your mother would never neglect you... and Second she was the best mother you could wish for.

You couldn't bear the silence inside the room so you decided to go outside to check on a particular individual.

Dick Grayson.

He was sitting infront of your grave cleaning it with his bare hand, replacing the previous flowers with Rose's. Since your relationship with him was on the edge when you died he doesn't even know your particular taste in flowers , as a result he would pick out new flowers everyday and replace them each day.

Your ghostly figure sit next to his watching him clean your grave once again, atleast he was being productive. Some especially Tim was coping in an unhealthy way.

Locked himself and barely ate anything, everything reminded him of you... His favourite coffee was now leaving an extremely bitter taste on his tongue, it was only because he realised how involved you were in his life and how without you his daily routine weren't the same.

Tim have also started to spiral into madness, doing research on you instead of his usual detective work. Who have hurt you and who have been nasty to you, he was willing to do anything but blame himself for your death or the family.

He's been looking back at every video footage of you and him and storing it into new files each file were specifically made for each video.

"Im sorry little wing... I couldn't find anything new today, so you'll have to take this for today"

Grayson gently murmured as he pluck out the old Lily's- old by one day - Wiping the vase carefully, holding as if it were the most fragile vase in the word.

"Life been abit hard... I know I shouldn't burden you with my problem especially when... You never had them. But, Kory and I took a break..."

His voice was more high-pitched than normal... Yet he continues to look after your grave, dealing it with great tenderness.

His mind flashing back to everything he had done wrong, prioritising joker over you... He remembered how he left you inside a burning building and instead saved the joker, as a result you got a nasty burn mark on your left hand.

Although he doesn't know who to blame you or the joker. Cause you're a hero, he thought you could save yourself... It doesn't matter that you were like what 7? Thought he did half heartily apologise after being lectured by Bruce.

"If you were back... Everything would be fine, im not blaming you of course... Just, I don't know anything good from bad especially after you left us"

"I do not know what possess you to be so reckless... I can't imagine what you must have felt but it's selfish"

"If you were here, Kory and I would take you before any of those... people could. It'll be just the three of us, I'll be the one you will depend on... You won't need to worry anymore, We'll never let you get hurt. Never again"

Dick continues to pour his heart out and slowly he began to smile, his mood began to shift from gloomy to thrilled, suggesting places and activities as if you were still alive.

If anybody was to come across this interaction it's either they'll lable him as mentally challenged or is high on sadness that they ended up talking to a grave.

You stood up getting ready to walk away, it's abit hard to pity them. They never acknowledged you when you were breathing and it's messed up that they only care after realising their mistakes.

"...Huh?"

A mysterious man was standing infront of you, you wouldn't be startled if he wasn't staring right into your eyes. A white lantern...?

You know him only because of the file you would read when you were bored out of your mind. Bruce must have called him, afterall he was a very new and surprising face to see in Gotham.

"...Nice to meet you?"

After your short introduction and your very long introduction on why he must not interfere at all, because as much as it suck being a ghost being alive with your current family would be hell.

Thought he does not seem to value your opinion at all, directly telling Bruce about your presence.

"You can speak... she can hear you"

Deadman informed Bruce.

"I apologise for my negligence and your mother unexpected death. She was a great woman just like you... I don't expect you to forgive so easily but, I want to see you smile again"

You didn't utter a word. You wanted to comfort him yet it was hard pitting the same man who avoid your presence when you were alive.

"Can't you bring her back...?"

"No, she's too far gone"

Your corpse look fine from outside but your inside were rotting and molding. Bruce tried his best yo preserve your body but what's gone is gone. All you want is for your body to rest.

"I refuse to believe. There must be a way for her to be back."

"I have no saying in logic. But there are artifact's that allows one to see ghost"

"I will do anything to see that smile again... I want to apologise to her face to face as well"

Your Father was one of the rare people in the family taking the responsibility in your death, this wasn't the first time he utter an apology. He would slept in your bed missing you, crying or talking in his sleep apologising it seem as the guilt never stopped chasing him.

Though he was the same man who left you unattended during gala surrounded by random man while you were a child. The same one who lecture your brother for leaving you in a fire only because he would have to explain why the burnt mark was there and not because it was wrong.

It was only natural for guilt to cling onto him the longest, he already lost Jason. But you were different, Jason died while having a somewhat happy memories. You died with nothing but bitterness and salty tears.

As much as you would love to fulfill your father's dream you couldn't help but be uncomfortable.

You've overhead Bruce and Jason conversation once and you regretted it. Jason being the most experienced in dying suggested the worst thing possible.

A new bedroom, made just for your liking.

A dingy room with chains to restrain you. All the window must have bars, even if you somehow managed to broke the iron chain you wouldn't be able to jump out and possibly risk breaking a bone.

"It's a necessity, I went mad when I came back, what gives you the idea that she won't be the same and in our case you'll be her first victim"

Jason harshly spit out. You couldn't help but disagree you wouldn't dare to hurt your family, even if they have hurt you in unexplainable ways. Your heart still ache for them in vain.

"Even if she dare to break out I have another method, far more wise and useful but I rather we use it as a last resort"

The last resort was, smashing your ankle. It was simple and Jason already have experience to make sure you won't be in more pain than necessary.

To put anything between your foot and for that object to be used as a support, tying the foot and arm's to restrain you. With a hammer all they have to do was to smash the bone into pieces, you wouldn't be able to walk at all but it was also necessary to treat the bone to avoid disability.

If the bone was to be left to heal by itself it would reconstruct themselves wrong leaving you to excruciating pain, not being able to depend on your foot and you might need to cut your foot off.

Another reason why you dread to be brought back, no amount of convincing or pleading would make them understand... They'll break you and rebuild you as if that was nothing.

They can't treat you like a daughter or a sister even tho they seem so willing... To you they only love you because of the guilt and not because they understand.

Damian was a reason itself, didn't even let a single tear drop during your funeral and the visit at the hospital. He did cry in secret which was pleasant to watch.

He's either beating people into pulp for the smallest crime or is actively trying to bring you back in another form. He have asked Raven to assist him but even the girl found it inhuman, suggesting for him to just mourn you and let your soul be in peace.

It was now noon the whole family jam inside the living room discussing.

"She can't be brought back? Jason died, the Lazarus pit can and must brought her back"

Damian argued, as much as he doesn't wanted to be emotional your absence was taking a toll on him.

You were the first to treat him like a human and he took that for granted. When he realised others weren't as understanding as you were he would get bothered... As much as he hate you that was just the crust of his heart, to him the core matter more... It was totally not an excuse for his horrible behaviour.

"You haven't tried that, father we must try before coming into conclusion!"

"I have tried Damian, nothing worked. Her body was rotting from the inside I was not aware"

Finally Barbara spoke up.

"You have tried? I have been visiting her grave everyday when did you di-"

"It was a decoy"

Jason decided to told the truth. The room felt into a long silence and suddenly shouting and names. They weren't happy that Bruce didn't tell them about the decoy, to them that was a breach of trust Bruce desperately tried to build after your death.

"Silence! There is another way we can see her, Deadman suggested using special artifact's that allows people to see ghost... We will us that as a temporary comfort and we'll find a way to bring her back... with us "

Everybody agreed, unknowns to them you were contemplating life whether you should leave your family and risk the chance of being brought back to life against your will or... Leave.

TAGS: @lovebug-apple, @leeiasure, @invinciblewaffles, @dangeroustravelermultiverse, @shycreatorreview, @bellethesleepypotato , @cluelessteam , @fortunatelydifferentqueen, @doggyteam2028 @icryat2

SPECIAL TAG: @megasweetbones.( TYSM for the great idea 🫶)

[echo-exco]

❝DOCTOR I CAN’T TELL IF I’M NOT ME.❞

୨⎯ ┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱

✰ ৎ──────SYPNOPSIS: all you ever wanted was a purpose. something that would give meaning to your existence, your power. healing others was the only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed… until you ended up in that awful place.

✰ ৎ────── masterlist. | next.

There is only one thing you ever truly wished for in this life: a purpose.

Something that would justify your existence, that would give meaning to every breath, every wound, every sleepless night.

And you found it. Not in an empty promise or in the affection of others. You found it in your own power.

A selfish desire, yes, but undeniably yours. A purpose born not out of love, but out of need.

From that strange power growing inside you, the one that forced you to look at others’ suffering with cold, almost cynical eyes. As if every wound were a problem only you could solve. As if every scream of pain were a prayer meant solely for you.

You clung to that.

To the idea that your worth existed only in your abilities.

The ability to stop someone from dying in front of you. To rip death from their body with your own hands. To stitch broken flesh with threads that hurt, yes, but worked. That was the only thing that ever made you feel alive. The only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed.

For a while, it was enough.

For a long while, you were selfish.

It didn’t matter if they used you. It didn’t matter if it hurt. If every healing left another scar on you. If every salvation cost you a little more of the little you had left.

As long as you could keep doing it—healing, fixing, protecting— the price didn’t matter.

Because at the end of the day, you could lie down on that mattress of emptiness and tell yourself: “Today, I made it worth it.”

Your existence and your power meant something.

Of course, you didn’t have a mother to share secrets with, nor guardians who offered you love. Only faces that came and went, and the bitter understanding that you were just another burden in a broken system.

Until, by some twisted stroke of fate, you had the “pleasure” of meeting your biological father.

Bruce Wayne.

Billionaire. Philanthropist. Playboy.

Batman.

Even so, none of that really mattered to you. What truly hit you was learning that you had to leave everything behind and go to Gotham.

That cursed city, that concrete jungle drowned in darkness and crime. Where dreams go to die and bodies, if they’re lucky, go to sleep.

Gotham wasn’t a home. It was a prison for someone like you.

A place where meta-humans like you were enemies, threats, problems to be contained.

Your power, your only purpose, was stripped away with nothing more than a change of zip code.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

Not being able to use it.

Not being able to save.

Not being able to be useful.

Your existence, reduced to ashes, like the bodies of those you didn’t reach in time.

It must be poetic, right? The healer who cannot heal. The savior without faith.

They hate you. You've felt it. That visceral resentment from those who survived because of you, but still blame you for what you couldn’t stop. Screams, stares, choked pleas— all of them pierced your soul deeper than any weapon ever could.

For someone who once swore to save lives, it’s only natural that those you vowed and wanted to save now express their utter disgust and despair toward the false, horrific salvation you once offered them.

And now? Now you live among strangers.

An immense mansion full of absences. With brothers who seemingly don’t recognize you, and a father who doesn’t see you.

Your arrival in Gotham wasn’t exactly ideal, at least, that’s how you think you remember it.

It’s hard for you to remember that moment. You don’t hold on to unnecessary memories… none of it will make you feel alive again.

Apparently, your new father figure has several children. Some of them are already adults. With lives of their own far from the mansion, you don’t know much about them, they were almost always too busy to say anything to you.

You can’t understand them, can’t they come up with better excuses? You don’t want these people’s attention.

These people can’t help you with your abilities. They can’t make you believe you’re still allowed to use them freely.

No, these people are just strangers who stumbled into your life overnight and want nothing to do with the problem. Not even your new father had the decency or responsibility to try forming a bond with you.

Bruce Wayne was an absent father. Not in the way someone leaves and disappears completely, but in the kind of absence that feels stronger the closer the person is. A hollow physical presence, like a ghost made of flesh and bone. One who could look you in the eyes and still not see you.

He struggled to communicate, to make time for you, to even remember that there was now one more occupied room in that massive mansion of his.

He doesn’t know how to deal with you, and you don’t know how to deal with him either. At first, you wondered if the problem was you. If you had done something wrong. If the way you talked, walked—even breathed, was so bothersome that he’d rather bury himself in work than give you an hour of his time.

But soon, you realized something even crueler: You don’t need a father. You’re not looking for one. You’re not waiting for one.

What you need is a patient. Someone you can heal. Someone who needs you.

Because that’s what you’ve always done. Heal. And Bruce… Bruce simply refuses to be healed.

But he doesn’t understand.

When you approach him, when you seek him out, when you try to speak to him, all he does is throw up a wall made of cold words, as practical and impersonal as that damn business suit of his.

“I’m busy.”

“Not now.”

“We’ll talk later.”

“It’s for work.”

Always the same. Always excuses with the bitter taste of indifference.

Is this what having a father is supposed to feel like? Because if it is, then it doesn’t feel any different from your days in foster care.

At least there, you knew you were alone. Here, they make you believe you’re not… but you are, more than ever.

You’ve learned to observe the details, as always. It’s one of the few things you’re good at, aside from using your power.

You notice the tired look in his eyes, the dark circles underneath, the way his fingers tense around his pen like he’s trying to crush it. The stack of papers on his desk never gets smaller, it’s like it multiplies just to keep you at a distance.

And the subtle changes… that lower tone in his voice when he sees you, like he can’t even be bothered to raise it for you. The way his eyebrows furrow, not out of anger, just… annoyance. Irritation.

That’s what hurt the most.

So you stopped trying. Because if you kept going, you were only going to be reprimanded by the one you were supposed to please. You convinced yourself that you don’t need his approval. That you don’t need his love. That you’re better off without him.

But then, why is it that every time you walk past his office, you pause for a second, hoping that door opens, just once, without you knocking first?

Why do you still need him to see you?

Richard Grayson is the eldest. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Everyone sees him as a beacon of hope, the moral compass of this family made of shadows and scars. And it makes sense. He has that bright smile, that genuine warmth the others can barely fake. He gives out hugs without being asked, listens patiently, laughs easily, and has that absurd gift of making anyone feel seen, at least, if you’re one of his.

Because with you, it was always different.

From the beginning, Richard seemed kind. Seemed. But between that warmth and you, there was always a distance, like someone had drawn a curtain between the two of you. You heard his apologies more than you heard his actual voice.

“Sorry, I have to head out right now.”

“Sorry, I was already on my way to Blüdhaven.”

“Next time, I promise.”

He was always rushing. Always busy. Always somewhere else. And you… you’re not someone who believes in empty promises.

At first, you thought it was just bad luck. That maybe if you insisted a little, if you found an excuse, if you caught him in the kitchen, he might stay for five minutes. Just five. But those minutes never came. And you started to notice a pattern. How his demeanor shifted the moment you walked into the room. How his smile became more diplomatic. More rehearsed. How his footsteps sped up when he thought you weren’t watching.

You didn’t want to admit it at first, but something inside you began to whisper an uncomfortable truth; He was avoiding you.

And then you understood. If Richard Grayson, the kindest, the most human, the most "big brother" of them all, couldn’t be around you, then what was the point of trying with the others? What could you possibly expect from Jason, who barely speaks to you? From Tim, who seems more invested in his computer than in actual people? From Damian, who can barely tolerate his own shadow?

So you did the same.

You avoided them. One by one.

You decided it wasn’t worth it. That if you weren’t going to be a real part of this family, you weren’t going to pretend.

It’s easier that way. It doesn’t hurt as much if you’re the one walking away first.

But sometimes, when you see them laughing together from the staircase, or hear Richard speaking so fondly of the others, a part of you wonders if it was ever really your choice to walk away, or if they’d been leaving you behind from the very beginning.

Your suspicions didn’t take long to confirm. All it took was talking to a few of your supposed brothers to realize the pattern repeated itself.

Jason, Tim, Damian…

Each one was a story unto themselves. Each one was a maze of traumas, masks, and poorly calibrated emotional responses. But if you had to describe them in one word, it would be: inaccessible.

The second of your brothers was Jason, and from what little you could gather, because no one seemed eager to talk about it much, Jason had died. And then he came back. It wasn’t a metaphor. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He had been buried, and now he was not. That simple statement was enough to provoke a morbid curiosity, almost scientific. What had changed in his body? Did he suffer from partial necrosis? Brain damage? Did his muscles regenerate? What residual effects did resurrection have on human physiology? Everything in you screamed to investigate. To dissect. To understand.

It was a dangerous thought. You knew that. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra: too tempting for your own good.

But what confused you the most wasn’t his condition, it was his behavior toward you. Jason had this aura of latent violence, like dynamite that could explode with the wrong spark. But that wasn’t what kept you away. Not entirely. It was his inexplicable rejection.

You didn’t understand it. You didn’t provoke him. You didn’t talk to him, you didn’t interfere, you didn’t cross the line. And yet, his gaze was always sharp. As if your mere presence triggered something in him. Irritation. Annoyance. Maybe even disdain.

You wondered if it was your fault. If the way you were, the way you spoke, the way you were, simply bothered him. But you couldn’t find an answer. And though you wanted to, you knew that getting closer would be too risky.

Because you’ve seen the broken walls. The misaligned doors. The tables split in two like they were made of paper. You’ve felt the tension in the air when Jason enters a room and isn’t in the mood. And you know, without needing confirmation, that his punches aren’t soft. That his rage doesn’t distinguish between the guilty and the witnesses.

So, you avoid him.

Not out of fear exactly, but out of caution. Self-preservation. You don’t want to be the next crack in the walls of this house.

Tim was a different kind of strange. More than Jason, though in a completely different way. His oddity didn’t stem from aggression or visible trauma. It was more subtle. More internal.

Almost clinical.

You observed him, like you observe everything. With that gaze of yours that searches for patterns, inconsistencies, vulnerabilities. And in him, you found many.

Surprisingly, Tim was brilliant. Not just "smart for his age," but one of those cases where the brain moves faster than the body. Too fast. So much so, that sometimes it seemed like his body gave up halfway through.

The dark circles under his eyes were a constant. His responses were slow, as if they had to pass through a filter of a thousand thoughts before being verbalized. He walked like his mind was too heavy for his spine to carry. A shadow carrying ideas. You were surprised he hadn’t fainted yet from the combination of insomnia, chronic stress, and mild malnutrition.

No one asked you.

No one thanked you.

But still, you started leaving him food. Food that could sustain him without causing a stomach collapse. Nothing too obvious, of course. A yogurt here. Cut fruits there.

Something easy to eat between keystrokes. You allied yourself with Alfred in that small act of silent intervention. The old butler seemed to notice, but he never mentioned it. And you never confirmed it.

Tim would probably assume it was all Alfred’s doing. In fact, you counted on it.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret. But because you knew that if he suspected you were behind something so... "thoughtful," it would only make him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to respond to care, to the intention behind such detail. Tim doesn’t know how to handle it if that sincere gesture comes from you.

Just like you would if any of them ever tried it with you.

Alfred... Alfred is a different matter.

Of all the people in the house, he’s the only one who acts like your existence isn’t a miscalculation. But he doesn’t fool himself. He doesn’t offer you love, or tenderness. He offers you structure. Routine. Measured phrases and cups of tea.

It’s not affection between you.

It’s a sort of tacit alliance.

Two functional people in the middle of a broken ecosystem.

You know he tries. But you also know it’s not enough for you.

You’ve seen children like you. In hospitals. In refugee camps. In temporary homes. Children who cling to an adult figure as if their life depended on it, and are then destroyed when that figure leaves. Or worse, when they stay but stop looking.

You don’t want that for yourself.

You convince yourself this is better. A working relationship. A dynamic where each one fulfills their role and no one crosses the line into the personal. Because if you get attached, if you let yourself believe this could mean something...

You know how that ends. They can’t give you what you’re looking for.

They can’t give you purpose.

They can’t return what was taken from you when you understood that your value only exists if you can heal, if you can serve, if you can be useful.

You still don’t know who you are when you’re none of that.

Back to the subject of your "family," the last on the list of who your siblings were, was Damian.

The youngest of the group. The second biological son of Bruce Wayne.

You said it out loud once, casually: "Ah, so he is the real one."

No one found it funny.

Unlike the others, Damian didn’t need time to show you that you weren’t welcome. He didn’t bother to fake courtesy or neutrality. From the beginning, he made it clear that your existence was expendable.

Maybe it was your silence. Maybe it was your lack of reaction to his provocations. Maybe he just didn’t like you. But he pointed his katana at you the first month you arrived.

The blade against your neck wasn’t a metaphor. It was real, cold, intimidating contact. You felt a thread of power activate instinctively in your body, a reflex of defense, of desperation. If you had let it go, well, you wouldn’t be here, mentally recalling this account.

You didn’t. Not for him. For you.

Because it wasn’t worth it. Because using your power on someone in your “family” would mean admitting they were important enough to hurt you.

They weren’t. Not yet.

You can’t risk being discovered. No one can know that you actually have this power. None of them can know.

Bruce appeared just in time to prevent the confrontation from escalating. Did he protect you? Not exactly. He simply said something like, “Damian has a complicated history,” as if that justified a death threat in the family kitchen.

Is it common in Gotham to justify a child’s homicidal impulses if they've had a difficult childhood?

That was your question. You didn’t ask it out loud. No one would have liked the answer.

It was also that day you found out that Damian was Bruce’s biological son. And you couldn’t help but think about the irony of it all.

The same Bruce Wayne who, in the public eye, was a scandalous figure, a charming, charismatic playboy billionaire with endless parties, had exactly one biological child. One. Not five. Not a legion of illegitimate children scattered across the world. Just one.

That kid turned out to be a ticking time bomb with a traditional sword.

Everything fit so perfectly wrong that it almost seemed planned.

With the girls, it's complicated. Maybe even more so because, deep down, a part of you thought they could be different.

Stephanie. She was like a female version of Richard, a constant smile, a vibrant energy that everyone seemed to adore, except you.

She greeted you with empty enthusiasm, one that never went beyond the surface. It was easy to see that behind her good mood, there was a locked door she wasn’t going to open for you.

And you understood. Because you'd seen it before.

People who act as if everyone is welcome, except you.

Stephanie was just another confirmation that no matter how hard you tried to fit in, this home was already full. You weren’t in the original plan. You never were.

Barbara, on the other hand, was simpler. She was hardly ever at the mansion. You’d see her sporadically, a red ghost in the shadows of fleeting visits. And still, in that limited time, she always found a way to smile at others, share a joke, a quick conversation, a knowing glance… Never with you.

Not once.

It was as if your presence went by unnoticed, not even worth including out of courtesy.

Cassandra was the most honest, in a way. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t smile. She didn’t speak.

She ignored your attempts to help with almost admirable efficiency. You could attribute it to her trauma, her history, her way of seeing the world… but that excuse starts to wear thin when it’s the only one left to justify everything.

Maybe you’re just not interesting. Maybe you don’t even stand out enough to be actively rejected.

Or is it because you don’t even deserve her attention?

It was easier to believe that they all had a reason not to see you.

Easier than admitting that maybe, you weren’t that hard to ignore.

What was dangerous about this family wasn’t the weapons, nor the katanas, nor the fists that had broken ribs more than once.

It was the mask.

It took you time to understand it. First, it was a hunch. Then a suspicion. Finally, a certainty: they were all vigilantes. Heroes of Gotham. The same ones who make your hands tremble when you try to use your power. The ones who make your gift feel useless. As if it were a mistake rather than a blessing.

The irony is so perfect it could almost make you laugh.

You can’t feel useful, can’t do the one thing you know how to do perfectly, because you’re surrounded by those who fight so that people and beings like you are neither necessary nor welcome.

And yet, you prefer them this way.

Cold. Distant. Detached. Unknown. Because connections are dangerous. Because memories weigh. Because at some point, someone taught you that affection is the hook that precedes the pain.

Because you know it better than anyone. When you get attached to someone, it’s not just pain that you feel when you lose them. It’s as if a part of you dies too. Not because you lose them, but because without your power, without that “usefulness,” you feel like you never deserved to have them in the first place.

In Gotham, you can’t do anything.

You can't heal.

You can't save.

You can't be useful.

You can't be loved. Or at least, that’s what they taught you to believe.

Here, you have no parts left that you can afford to lose. Not while you're trapped in this city that doesn’t need what you can give. A family that doesn't know what to do with you. You don’t know what to do with yourself either.

They can’t give you a purpose.

They never could.

They didn’t even try.

You expected so little, that not even that surprised you.

Until you found him.

The only living person who not only recognized your power, but accepted it for what you wanted it to be:

A miracle.

He called himself Doctor Masashi. A kind voice, a serene figure. But behind that calmness was surgical precision. He knew exactly how to shape you. How to rebuild you, only to destroy you again with elegance.

He was the only one who never lied to you about what you were:

A weapon.

A tool.

A precious jewel that only shines when it bleeds for others.

A perfect puppet.

And you, grateful for the strings.

He gave you direction when all you had was guilt.

He gave you structure when all you had was emptiness.

He gave you… meaning. A cruel meaning. A conditioned meaning. But still, you took it.

It can't be that bad, right?

Clinging to that.

Clinging to him.

Clinging to something that tells you that you can still be "something."

Because if someone, even just one person, can look at you and say that you are good for something, then you're not broken.

Then you're not alone. Then everything that hurt was worth it.

Even if guilt drowns you every night.

Even if the nightmares never rest.

Even if the hands you tried to save still drag you from their graves, begging for a second death.

It doesn't matter. As long as someone believes that keeping you alive makes sense... then that’s enough.

Right?

Maybe you're a weapon.

Maybe you're selfish.

Maybe you did it all just out of fear of disappearing, for that unbearable need to feel alive.

The need to feel that you matter. To have a place to fit in.

But at least you're something. In this shattered world, that's already more than many have.

But how much more can you take before you truly break? How much longer before you completely crumble, like so many times you did on the inside? How much will the price of his greed cost… and your desperate desire to remain useful?

Because in the end, it wasn't Bruce.

Nor your brothers.

Nor your sisters.

None of them ever knew who you were.

None of them understood.

Only him. Only Masashi.

That’s what scares you the most. Because if even he can make you believe that’s all you’re worth. If even he manages to make you cling to that idea, then maybe, you were never more than that.

Maybe you were never more than your power, and in Gotham, where you can no longer use it...

Not even that belongs to you.

[acosmicbee]

Dangerous Man

500 Follower Celebration - Day 5

(Castle In The Sky inspired! Is it obvious I love Studio Ghibli or what? TWS: Reader gets drugged, brief vomiting towards the end)

Working in the mines was hard, labor intensive work. Luckily, you weren't actually a miner, but you spent a lot of time keeping everything else up and running and helping wherever you were needed. It was a great way to pick up random skills.

It was the end of another long day. You had already waved your boss out, knowing he had a daughter to get home to who hadn't seen her dad all day. You had been the last one to leave, only half paying attention as you walked along the forest, heading towards town.

It was strange, completely random. You thought you were hallucinating for a when you saw a something stumble out of the woods in front of you. It was a girl, who then promptly collapsed, leaving you to rush to catch her before she hit the ground..

You were an orphan, your mother died in childbirth and your father had disappeared on an adventure when you were 8. Despite that, you were never alone. The townspeople looked after you and you always had enough to get by, they made sure you learned to never abandon a person in need if you could help. Because of this, you didn't hesitate to bring the girl home. You lay the girl down in your father's old room, making sure she was tucked in and safe before heading to bed yourself. Hopefully when she woke up she'd be able to answer your questions.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You yawned as you cooked breakfast, never truly used to waking up so early in the morning. The food was nothing fancy, just some eggs with a bit of sausage you had left over. You made two plates, one for yourself and one for the mysterious floating girl. You gently knocked on the door before entering, seeing her awake and sitting up.

"You're awake. I was worried after whatever it was that happened last night you might be out for longer." You handed her the plate.

"What happened? And where am I? Who are you?" She carefully took the plate but didn't touch anything. You sighed.

"I'm Y/N. You're currently in the town of Shipp's Ravine, a small mining town no ones ever heard of out by the coast in the middle of nowhere." You introduced lightly. It wasn't wrong, hardly anyone who wasn't from here or somewhere close by had ever heard of this place. "As for what happened, you kinda just stumbled out of the woods."

"I'm... Poppy. I come from... far away. The airship stopped to refuel and... I ran for it." Poppy answered, talking slow as she tried to remember what happened.

"An airship? We don't get much airship traffic around here. You must have walked really far, the nearest airship dock isn't for three towns over, and it's military run." You said. Poppy grimaced.

"The military can't help me." She eventually answered. "Not with why I ran."

"Why? Did you do something? Are you a criminal?" She shook her head before taking another small bite. That made you pout a little. Secretly harboring a criminal would've brought some much needed excitement to your life and she seemed nice enough.

"This man he kidnapped me. He's working with the military, or at least he has connections with them. I know he's probably using every contact he has to try and find me." She said. You perked back up, your interest and excitement piqued.

"Well if you're trying to hide, Shipp's Ravine is the perfect place. Trust me, very few people even know this place exists! You'll be safe here."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You hummed as you skipped down the path, waving hello and greeting everyone you passed. You were heading out to buy some more food for dinner having taken a day off to talk to Poppy.

You were halfway to the market when you spotted him. A man with long blond hair in a clean white suit. Next to him were two armed guards. You cursed under your breath as you picked your way through the crowd, trying your best not to stand out.

Of course it didn't work as you were tapped on the shoulder. You turned around with a bright smile, tilting your head in mock curiosity at the outsiders trying to talk to you. "Excuse me, have you seen a young girl? Maybe around your age-?"

"Yeah! There's Lisa, Diana, Gianna, Lily, Winona..." You started to list off all the names of village girls you could think of who fit the description. The man shook his head.

"Her name is Poppy. She has fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Face covered in freckles." You shook your head.

"Nope! The only girls who fit that description would be Mrs. June's daughters but they're both under 7. Anything else I can do for you?" The man shook his head.

"No thank you. Good day."

"You too sir!" You answered, extra cheerily before continuing your shopping. You couldn't leave empty handed without drawing suspicion as to why.

The second you were done, and out of view of the main square, you booked it. You ran up the path, basket clutched in your hand. Poppy jumped when you slammed open the door, shutting it quickly behind you as you drew the curtains shut.

"The man who kidnapped you, does he have long blond hair? Gray eyes?" You asked, the second you dead bolted the door. Poppy froze.

"He's- he's here?" She whispered.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I have an idea. I have a friend who works at the rail station. I'll get us tickets somewhere in countryside, somewhere even more rural and out of the way. But until then stay here. Avoid the windows and don't answer the door. If you're okay with it, I can cut your hair shorter so you pass as a boy."

Poppy agreed to let you cut her hair so you'd made sure to wash it out nicely before you started. You'd been cutting your own hair for a while, so you made it look as nice as possible. She didn't seem to mind too much and you even caught her smiling at herself in the mirror later.

"It's nice not having to worry about brushing it for hours and hours." She eventually told you. "I wish I had cut it sooner. Maybe you could get a new job as a hair dresser."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day you left was the day you heard that the military had been getting warrants to search the villager's houses for Poppy. You'd already been dropping hints about taking a vacation so it wouldn't come as a surprise if you left for a little.

You ran around your house, gathering only the most important things. You burned Poppy's dress, shoving her into some clothing you'd bought that was clearly meant for a boy. Once you had those all packed away you handed one of the clothing bags to Poppy.

"It'll help you blend in if we're both carrying stuff. Until we're safely on the train I'll call you Pierre, okay?" She nodded, pulling down her cap more as you walked to the station. The train station was empty and you were able to get a private room for a discounted price for the two of you, all paid in cash. The energy was tense until the train had pulled out of the station.

It was a long trip, one that would stretch through the night and into the next day. You and Poppy entertained yourselves with card games and books and other random things until it had gotten dark out. You went to bed feeling safe, drifting off easily to the gentle rocking of the train.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was late -- or was it early? -- when you heard the door to your cabin open. In your half asleep state, curled beneath one of your mother's quilted blankets that you'd brought, you assumed it was Poppy. Maybe she needed air or to go to the bathroom.

You could vaguely make out a silhouette of someone with long hair. Convinced it was Poppy you rolled back over, but the door never closed and the lantern light in the hallway made it difficult to fall back asleep. You yawned, finally deciding to get up and see what she needed when your blood ran cold.

Poppy didn't have long hair anymore because you had cut it. Poppy couldn't be standing in the doorway because you had seen her asleep on the other bench when you opened your eyes.

T h a t   w a s n ' t   P o p p y.

A sudden pinch at the base of your neck made you whine in pain. You rolled over, trying to stand, only for your legs to give out. You never hit the floor, silently being laid back down as you tried to force your body to work.

The man, the same one from the marketplace, shushed you gently as he watched you try to fight the drug. Your eyesight was blurring, your brain turning to mush and you couldn't move. You passed out right as he turned to Poppy, still blissfully asleep across from you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up to a faint humming noise. Your stomach turned unpleasantly and you felt feverish and nauseous. Where you were laying was comfortable though. You were warm and it was soft. You wondered what had woken you up when you finally registered someone shaking you.

Opening your eyes to the dark room you saw Poppy, face covered in tears. She hugged you the second you awoke, crying into your chest. Looking around and letting your eyes adjust to the darkness you realized why. This wasn't your home, nor was it the train car. It looked like the fancy rooms advertised for rich people on airships.

"Poppy?" You whispered weakly. She held you tighter, still silently crying. You looked around noting anything that could be important. It was a large room with two beds, one of which you were laying on. There was a small heater in the middle of the room as well as a table and chairs. Your bags were placed on the table, including your mother's quilts which were neatly folded.

There was a small window in the room, barred from the outside, not that it would do anything seeing as the only view out the window was clouds and the night sky. You looked towards the door, ignoring the way your head spun. It must be a side affect of whatever he'd drugged you with, this lethargy and pseudo-sickness.

"It's locked. Everything is." Poppy whispered to you. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Both of you turned at the sound of voices in the hallway outside the locked door. There was the sound of a key before the lock finally clicked open. It was the man, holding a small oil lamp. He was no longer in the white suit but in some kind of lounge wear, possibly some kind of rich person pajamas you'd never even heard of.

"You're both awake. I'm glad the drugs finally wore off, I was getting a bit worried. Then again, they were military grade sedatives." He smiled calmly, almost like he was trying to be comforting. He was dangerous, no amount of smiling would change that.

"Where are we? What did you do?" You asked. You cursed your voice for not only betraying your fear but also your compromised state.

"Y/N L/N, the beloved orphan of Shipp's Ravine. I asked around about you after our little interaction at the market. The townspeople really love you there, it's a shame you won't be going back. As for lying to me, we can discuss the repercussions of that later."

"Let them go! They never did anything to you! This has always been about me, you don't need to drag them into this as well!" Poppy yelled. The man just chuckled, approaching the both of you.

"My sweet, naïve, little Poppy. You trust so easily and you're lucky this time it turned out well for you. Imagine if you'd been found by some creep instead of some poor child playing adult who wanted nothing but companionship in return." He said, and you didn't even have the strength to be offended at his description of you.

"As for them not doing anything to me, they lied to me. Albeit, they did so to protect you, which is just so precious. It made he change my mind on what should happen to them. Rest assured, they will be cared for, just as you will be cared for. You'll finally have the sibling you always dreamed of."

"Just because you kidnapped us together doesn't make us siblings! This isn't some heartfelt family reunion!" The man smiled and tilted his head.

"Oh, but wouldn't it? I happen to have a letter from the commander of the royal military, which makes it more than just simple law. Would you like me to read it to you?" He held it out of reach when Poppy tried to snatch it from him, a satisfied smirk on his face. "It says, 'Seeing as Y/N L/N and Poppy Demonium lack legal guardians as both parents are either deceased or missing, I, General Kingston Grant hereby give all legal guardianship to one Caspian LaRue.'"

Those words proved to be the final straw for your stomach as you hunched over, gagging as you threw up on the floor beside you before slumping over onto Poppy.

"Oh dear. I suppose I should've guessed that such a large dose would've been too much for your body to handle." He murmured. You could only cry as you closed your eyes, trying to stabilize yourself.

You didn't even know when he'd called in cleaning staff, but they were already there when you opened your eyes again, leaving quickly once it had been dealt with. Poppy cradled your body close, protectively glaring at Caspian when he approached the bed and sat down beside you.

"You'll feel better in the morning. We can have a real talk then. Good night Y/N." He brushed some of your sweat stuck hair off your forehead before turning to Poppy. "Good night, Poppy. Sleep well."

He turned to leave, grabbing his oil lamp from where he'd set it, when a small smile crossed his face as he stood in the doorway. "Poppy, short hair suits you. Even if you did cut it for a silly reason." With that, the door closed and locked behind him and the two of you were left alone in the dark to ponder your new lives.

[thewritingfairy]

Ngl... I'm kinda excited to see how bad they'll get. The most thing I like abt these stories is when they start doing drastic things, like locking you up and wtv..

Phone format because I'm outside and my cat is enjoying this too much for me to leave her alone (she can only be outside with supervision)

Same, but the only issue I have, how dark do i want it to get and what type of ending do I want???

Because plan B is going to be crazier then my Poetic Justice au, it's similar but worse since you have more evidence due to living longer.

Idk if I want to a bad ending for (Name) or a good ending. Or multiple endings with like a chose your ending.

But some endings will need more chapters than other endings.

[darkstaria]

"Ughhhh." You groan, collapsing onto your ever increasing pile of plushies that littered about your bed. They were your only solace in this hell. Little angels of fluff.

But.. oh! It seems like there is a new little one. You picked up a small little robin, peering at it's beady eyes. Occasionally your siblings snuck in new plushies to the pile. It was a blatant play for favour, but if the plushie was good enough, you allowed it.

This one though.. You looked a little closer, peering into it's soul.

Those eyes... were lenses.

Throwing the robin to the ground, you rushed outside, fury in your voice.

"DAD!" You screamed. "Tim's put cameras in my room a-goddamn-gain!!"

You could barely make out the resulting unseath of a sword, and an accompanying screech.

You hoped Damian got him good.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

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

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

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

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

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

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

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7 minutes.

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

6 minutes.

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

5 minutes.

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

4 minutes.

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

3 minutes.

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

2 minutes.

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

1 minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

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

Damn.

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

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

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

None showed a trace of you.

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

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

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

How could he have forgotten so much?

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

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

Had you ever really been there?

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

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

Your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

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

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

take a bath!

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

[be-xkyy]

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑌𝑎𝑛! 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑆𝑜𝑛

Warning: platonic yandere, possessive, jealous, crying, a little cute?, this is PLATONIC.

This is something platonic that I don't know why I wrote, since it's not part of my usual content... but the idea came to me and I wrote it in an hour or so, so here it is. 🤷🏻‍♀️🖤

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Masterlist

Part 2

Yandere Little Son who is a beautiful and energetic 5 year old boy, your only baby, your only son for now (forever) who adores his mommy, YOU, with all his heart.

Yandere Little Son who since he was a baby was always calm and happy in your arms, but only with you, since he would sob and scream at the top of his lungs when someone else grabbed him (including his father)

Yandere Little Son who despite everyone saying that he would become more independent and less clingy when he grew up, that didn't happen. Oh no. He just became more attached to you and when he learned to walk he started following you around (like a little duckling)

Yandere Little Son who took his first steps walking towards you, his first words were "Ma—ma!", all his drawings are of you and him (and a distant figure in a corner that according to your son's own words is his father. At least he added it... right?)

Yandere Little Son who was sobbing and screaming when you first took him to daycare, the teacher told you that all kids were like that on their first day and that your son would calm down when he was with the other kids. Only an hour later you received a call from daycare to go pick him up since he wouldn't stop crying.

Yandere Little Son who learns at home with a private tutor since he doesn't want to be separated from you at any time, he pretends to get along with the tutor in your presence only to kick her hard under the table when you go to the kitchen for lemonade (he gets upset when she takes it easy and doesn't give up)

Yandere Little Son who approaches angrily and kicks his father with all his might (it doesn't hurt) when he sees him kissing you, his little hands push him (without moving him even a millimeter) while he yells at him in a shrill voice.

"Get away from my mommy! Get away, get away!".

Yandere Little Son who every night sleeps in your room regardless of you putting him to bed in his room, he leaves his room to go to yours, climbs into bed and lays right between you and his father, he snuggles up to your side squeezing his teddy bear while asking you to tell him a story (he falls asleep halfway through)

Yandere Little Son who always wants to match your clothes, always helps you in the kitchen when you're cooking something (he ends up covered in flour) and always gives you flowers when you go out and even when you're at home he cuts the flowers from the neighbor's garden to give them to you (your neighbor comes to your house upset because your son pulled out all her daisies)

Yandere Little Son who started crying when he found out you were pregnant and had a little brother or sister, he sobbed clinging to you hiding his face in your stomach saying he doesn't want a little brother or sister.

"NO! Mommy... sniff— sniff... I don't want a brother or sister! You'll stop loving me and only want him! sniff—"

Yandere Little Son who lets you comfort him by taking him in your arms telling him that even if you have another child he will always be your baby, your first son, that you have special affection for him, he stops crying hiding his face in your neck even though your words calm him down, he takes his head out of your neck to look at you his little hands gently grab your cheeks.

"And if I don't like my little brother when he's here... can we return him? Give him to someone else who wants him... ok mommy?"