#yandere thief

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Desert Bandit - DubCon

Yandere! Desert Bandit who rules his tribe with an iron fist. Heartless, he's called. His soul as unmoving and unkind as the desert itself.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who prays to no God but the desert and her bleached bones.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who dreams every night of a woman, a lover as dear to him as water in the hamada.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who finds your caravan by pure luck. People seldom travel this route - the springs are fickle and even one dried well is a death sentence.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who watches from a distance, dipping behind the dunes if anyone looks his way for too long.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who hears the desert wind whispering in its sibilant way and knows this caravan is special somehow. Who calls his band together to raid you, even though they've already hit three camel trains in the last week.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who waits for nightfall before he brings steel and fire and choas down on you. Who revels in the blood he spills, each drop an offering to the desert.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who sees a figure running from him, their cloak streaming behind them. Yandere! Desert Bandit whose blood is up, who wants nothing more than a good hunt.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who rides you down, his scimitar close enough to cut your cheek before you dive away from him.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who leaps from his horse without even stopping her. Who looks to you less a man and more a jinn. How else could he be so quick and so cruel?

Yandere! Desert Bandit who catches your wrist as you swing your dagger at him, laughing like you're nothing but a hare in his trap.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who sees your face and feels his blood turn to ice.

It's you. The woman from his dreams.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who realises suddenly that they were no mere dreams. No, they were a premonition, a promise. A gift from the desert herself.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who won't let his promised bride slip away, no matter how you twist and turn in his grasp. Who grips your wrist so tightly you have no choice but to drop your dagger.

Yandere! Desert Bandit with eyes rimmed in kohl, glinting gold with the reflected firelight. Glinting gold with lust.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who brings his sword to your throat and threatens to spill your heart's blood all over the thirsty sand if you don't come with him.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who forces you onto his horse and is quick to climb up behind you. One arm wrapped around your waist so he can savour the curve of your body. A woman in his arms, his woman.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who calls to his men to meet him at sunrise so that he can steal a few hours with you.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who feels your hips rubbing against him in the saddle, no matter how fast or slow he rides. Who has to grit his teeth against his desire.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who smells of smoke and musk and blood.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who rides almost half the night to bring you to an oasis.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who leads you to pool of water and commands you to drink. Who watches the water drip down your neck and catch on your collarbones.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who has never been more desperate to lap up spilt water, even with a reservoir to infront of him.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who sits down in front of you and unwraps his litham. His hair is dark and smooth as oil. It falls past his shoulders and he gruffly tells you to brush and braid it.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who wants to moan when he feels your nails running along his scalp and neck.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who slowly turns to face you when you're done. He's on his knees like a supplicant and he doesn't even know it.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who rests his hands on your thighs. You fear the heat of him - his hands, his eyes - will surely burn you alive.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who offers you a choice. You can stay here in the oasis and he'll leave you as you are - virginal, untouched.

Or he can make you his bride. On this night, in this place.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who watches your breath hitch, who sees the doubt creep across your face.

Why?  You ask. Why not just take what you want?

Yandere! Desert Bandit who plays with your hair while he speaks. Who does it so absent mindedly that it's almost proprietary. Like he owns you already.

I can steal gold and jewels. I can steal the breath from a man's lungs and the life from his body. But this, this one thing, must be given willingly.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who watches your heart war within you. The desert has you trapped more tightly than chains or bars. Even in an oasis, you can't survive on your own. You need him.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who holds perfectly still as you lean forward and kiss him. It's chaste almost, a shy press of your lips against his. And he's thinking that there'll be nothing chaste between you before the night is done.

You don't know it but a kiss given willingly is all he needs to appease the desert.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who lays his palm across the nape of your neck and pulls you back to him. Who bites at your lips until you give in and open your mouth. Who holds you in place when you try and pull away from his tongue and its ruthless advances.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who guides your hand to his cock and groans at just the touch of your fingers through his clothes. Who throws his head back and grits his teeth when you hesitantly stroke him, your hands so much smaller and softer than his own.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who watches you through the tangle of hair that's blown across his face. His little blushing bride. His desert prize.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who knows only roughness and cruelty. Whose first instinct is to throw you down and rip the clothes from your body. Who has to dig his hands into the sand to stop himself from doing just that.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who lays you down on the soft sand, the firelight casting his face in flickering shadow. There is more than lust there, though you can't see it.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who runs his hands slowly down your waist, grabbing the fat of your hips before moving lower. Your thighs are squished closed and he works his fingers into your flesh until he practically pries them apart.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who leans down and spits on your cunt and uses his fingers to work it in.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who clicks his teeth in irritation when you look away from him. Who grabs your jaw and guides you back.

Yandere! Desert Bandit whose fingers keep digging into your cheeks as he gets ready to enter you. He sees the doubt, the fear, the guilty lust in your eyes and he wants to drink it all in.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who tries so damn hard to be gentle and slow. But once he has the tip in he can't even try to hold himself back.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who slams himself the rest of the way in. Who snarls through his gritted teeth like an animal and digs his hands into the flesh of your hips.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who doesn't even register the way you scream or try and twist away from him. He has you now and he's going to fuck you hard and fast until he's satisfied.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who pounds into you with all those years of longing and lust and nights when he would have fucked just about anything because he dreamt of you.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who uses your hips to pull you onto his cock with every thrust. His escaped hair hanging around his face and his canines gleaming.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who hooks one arm around your lower back and literally lifts you off the ground so he can go deeper.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who leans forward and bites into your tits. Hard enough to leave bruises that turn purplish blue by the morning.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who deep down in his conscious mind knows he's hurting you like crazy. But it's all animal instinct in control and he doesn't stop even though you're begging him to please stop, please, it hurts.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who slams into you as deep as he can when he comes. Who forces a rough, biting kiss onto you even though you try and turn away.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who digs his hands into the sand next to your head and just spends a minute trying to get his breath back.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who finally pulls out of you. Who slowly becomes human again.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who realises his bride is a crying, bleeding mess under him. Who makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can slowly pick you up.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who walks into the water and holds you close as the blood and tears wash away.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who coos at you until you lift your head from his neck and look at him. He looks apologetic almost, but his gold eyes are still filled with want, with devouring lust. You are the bandit's bride and there's no escaping it.

He truly was the worst of thieves.

[green-butterfly-writes]

Not at this point in the story quite yet, but once little thief reader starts staying at the manor regularly and gets their own bedroom, the Batfam realize they really like soft things/stuffed animals, and start competing over who’s the favorite based on how often you sleep on/play with/carry around their gift. (They all of course give you multiple things, but the competition is based on your favorite out of what ever they gave you)

List of some of the things they gave you:

Bruce: a very comfortable pillow for your bed. (He’s not officially in the competition, but he still takes pride in how often you curl up on top of it in fox form)

Damian: a squeaky lamb shaped dog toy you love to chew on and toss around, but are always careful enough not to damage

Dick: a white teddy bear holding a heart. Sometimes you curl around it in fox form

Jason: he got you a french fry squishmallow, but at the time you weren’t living with them yet, so he left it at a safe house and used it as an extra couch pillow for a while (he was careful not to get blood on it). You like it because it smells like him, and reminds you of your rooftop rendezvous. You keep it burred in your bed so it’s safe

Tim: noticed you like things that smell like the people you care about, so he bought a buil-a-bear mothman plush, tied it to himself (unstuffed), and wore it around under his clothes (and Red Robin suit) for a week straight, before stuffing it (with a little heart and everything) to be at your perfect firmness level. You like it because it smells like him, and regularly carry it around in human form. You are unaware he wore it

Barbra: a bat shaped decorative pillow that, despite everyone’s best efforts, lives in the batcave. You sit or lay on it in fox form, or hug it in human form when you get lonely at night, since there’s almost always someone down there (typically Alfred or Barbra)

Cass: found a robin (the bird) plushy that makes noise when you press on it. A week later she found a fucked up looking fox kea chian plush. They both live on your bedside table.

Stephanie: a fabric doll with long hair. You don’t take her out much, but you love playing with her hair. Sometimes Stephanie lets you recreate the dolls hair style on her. You named the doll Stephanie Jr.

Alfred: also not it the competition, but after he found out he bought a bunch of matching pillows you like, a put them in all of your hiding spots, so that even when the world is overwhelming, you’ll still be cozy

[tnsophiaonly]

WTFFF, Kyo sounds so tragic that adero might have a competition frfr

❝WHERE SHADOWS CLING TO LIGHT❞

⌗ -⪼ Kyofusho, a shadowed and tormented soul, finding solace and obsession in the light of the merchant's —your— kindness. It acts as both a statement of their bond and a poetic reflection of the tragedy that threads through the universe.

—–-–-—⟩»⟩ In the dusky amber of twilight, where the horizon bled into shades of violet and gold, a solitary figure wove through the cobblestone alleys of an ancient marketplace. The air was thick with the scent of sun-warmed spices and the faint, distant melody of a minstrel's lute. This was no place for shadows, and yet Kyofusho moved like one—a specter unnoticed in the bustling crowd. His cloak, tattered and frayed, billowed behind him, a phantom in the light of day.

He was no stranger to hunger, its gnawing ache a constant companion since the days he first woke in a world that had long since cast him out. A child, reborn and forsaken, with the memory of a name—Kyofusho, Nightmare—but nothing more. His hollow, pitch-black eyes, void of pupils, mirrored the emptiness that clawed at his soul. They whispered of otherness, of monstrosity, and the world, in its cruelty, had responded in kind.

Today, hunger drove him again, a relentless torment that urged his hands toward forbidden acts. The stalls brimming with ripe fruit and glimmering trinkets called to him, their abundance mocking his scarcity. Yet, his target was not a bauble or a loaf of bread but something far more alluring: a merchant whose wares gleamed with the promise of plenty, their presence radiating a peculiar warmth through the cold indifference of the crowd.

You.

Your stall was a modest haven amidst the opulence of the market. The cloth canopy above you rippled in the gentle breeze, casting dappled sunlight upon your wares. Handmade goods, carved with precision and care, lay neatly arranged, each a testament to your craftsmanship. There was a softness in your demeanor, an open kindness that drew people to you. You spoke with warmth, your voice a melody that seemed to calm the restless hearts of all who approached.

Kyofusho watched from the shadows, his gaunt figure pressed against the cool stone of a nearby wall. He had chosen you as his mark, but as he observed, he found himself hesitating. The lines of your face, the gentleness of your movements, they stirred something unfamiliar within him—a longing not for sustenance but for understanding. Still, desperation was a cruel taskmaster, and so, steeling himself, he moved.

In a blur, his hand darted toward your stall, fingers brushing against the edge of a cloth pouch heavy with coin. But you, sharp-eyed and perceptive, caught the motion. Your hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising strength.

“Halt,” you said, your tone firm but devoid of malice. The single word hung in the air, an invocation of stillness.

Kyofusho’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to fracture. He expected scorn, anger, or fear, but your eyes held none of these. Instead, they reflected something alien to him: compassion.

“Thou art hungry,” you murmured, your voice low, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “Why dost thou steal, stranger? Speak thy troubles, for the world may yet offer thee reprieve.”

The old tongue, the cadence of your words, struck him like a thunderclap. He had heard it before, in fragments of dreams long forgotten. His mouth opened, dry and trembling, but no sound emerged. Shame gripped him, its icy fingers tightening around his throat. What could he say? That the world had marked him as its enemy before he had ever drawn breath?

You released his wrist, stepping back, and to his utter astonishment, you offered him a small loaf of bread. “Take this,” you said, your tone softening. “And shouldst thou need more, return not as a thief, but as one in need.”

He took the bread with trembling hands, his blackened eyes searching your face for some sign of mockery, but finding none. In that moment, something fractured within him—a dam holding back years of bitterness and despair. He turned and fled, the bread clutched tightly to his chest, but your voice lingered in his mind like the fading notes of a song.

Kyofusho returned the next day, drawn not by hunger but by something far more consuming. He lingered at the edges of the market, watching as you worked, your presence a light he could not look away from. Days turned to weeks, and though he never approached, he became a constant shadow in your life, his gaze always seeking you out. He began to understand the rhythm of your days, the small habits that marked your routine. The way you hummed as you arranged your wares, the way your lips curved into a soft smile when a child tugged at your sleeve.

But with this growing attachment came a gnawing fear, a voice in the back of his mind that whispered of inevitability. You will ruin this, as you ruin all things. They will see you for what you are, and they will turn away.

One evening, as the market emptied and the sky turned to ink, he found the courage to approach. You were closing your stall, the light of a single lantern casting a warm glow over your figure. He stepped into the circle of light, his presence a jarring contrast to the warmth.

“Thou return’st,” you said, your tone neither surprised nor fearful. “Hast thou come to speak thy truths?”

Kyofusho’s voice, hoarse from disuse, rasped like the wind through dead leaves. “Why dost thou not fear me?”

Your brow furrowed, and you tilted your head, as though considering his question. “Fear is oft born of ignorance. But thou art no stranger to me now. I see thee, not as others see. Thou art… lost, aye, but not wicked.”

The words struck him like a blow. He wanted to believe you, to let your kindness wash over him and erode the walls he had built. But the years of scorn, the names, the torches and ropes, they loomed large in his memory.

“I am a monster,” he whispered, the words tasting of ash. “I bring ruin to all I touch.”

“Thou art what thou choosest to be,” you replied, stepping closer. Your hand, warm and steady, reached out to touch his arm. “And I see in thee a soul yearning for more than this darkness.”

The warmth of your touch burned against his skin, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of tears. He fell to his knees before you, his gaunt frame wracked with sobs. You knelt beside him, saying nothing, only offering your presence.

But the world is not kind to monsters, nor to those who dare love them. Word of Kyofusho’s presence in the market soon spread, and with it, the whispers of fear. The knights came, their shining armor a stark contrast to the grim reality of their intent. You tried to protect him, to speak on his behalf, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

They bound him in ropes, silencing his protests, and dragged him away. But even as they took him, his void-like eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not fear but a promise—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kyofusho would return. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more tragic, far more dangerous. He was a man who had tasted the warmth of your kindness, and in doing so, had become utterly, irrevocably yours.

- The prison walls were as cold and unyielding as the world that had condemned him. Days blurred into nights, and Kyofusho sat in the shadows of his cell, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. Your face, your voice, the way your hand had lingered on his arm as if he were not an abomination—these memories burned brighter than the dim torchlight that flickered outside his door.

He whispered your name in the darkness, the syllables a prayer and a curse. You had given him something he had never dared to dream of: hope. And now, in the confines of this cage, that hope twisted into something darker, more desperate. The world had taken everything from him, but it would not take you.

“I will return to thee,” he murmured, his voice a vow carried on the wings of the night. “Even if I must rend the heavens and the earth asunder, I shall find thee once more.”

Meanwhile, you could not rest. The sight of him being dragged away haunted your every waking moment. The market, once a place of joy and connection, now felt hollow without his shadow lingering on its edges. You found yourself wandering the paths he had once tread, searching for traces of him in the quiet night.

- The marketplace felt barren, as though the vibrancy of its colors had been stolen away with Kyofusho’s absence. The days passed in a haze, each one bleeding into the next, until you could no longer bear the weight of your inaction. Your heart was a restless tide, surging with the need to make amends for your failure to protect him.

You began asking questions in hushed tones, seeking any information about where they had taken him. The guards’ gazes turned suspicious, the merchants whispered behind your back, but you cared not. The world might see you as foolish for aiding a man like him, but they did not understand. They had not seen the anguish in his eyes, the way he clung to the fragments of humanity that remained within him.

Finally, your persistence bore fruit. A sympathetic stablehand, who had overheard the guards speaking, whispered to you of a fortress far beyond the hills. It was a place where the unwanted were sent, a prison for those deemed unfit for the light of day. You knew the journey would be perilous, but the thought of leaving Kyofusho to rot in that desolate place filled you with a resolve stronger than fear.

The fortress loomed before you, a monolith of stone and shadow. Its jagged spires pierced the heavens, and the air around it seemed heavy, suffused with despair. You had traveled for days, your body weary but your determination unshaken. Clutching a satchel of provisions and a heart full of hope, you approached the gate.

The guards stationed there eyed you with suspicion. “State thy business, traveler,” one of them barked, his voice sharp and unyielding.

You drew a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I come to visit a prisoner,” you replied, your tone steady despite the fear coiling in your chest. “A man named Kyofusho.”

The guard frowned, exchanging a glance with his companion. “The void-eyed thief? What business hast thou with such a wretch?”

“He is a friend,” you said simply, meeting the guard’s gaze. There was no point in crafting elaborate lies; the truth was your only weapon.

After a moment’s hesitation, the guard waved you through. “Thou art allowed entry, but beware. Monsters oft bring ruin to those who care for them.”

› The prison’s interior was even more oppressive than its exterior. The air was damp and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and despair. Chains rattled faintly in the distance, a discordant symphony that set your nerves on edge. A warden led you through the labyrinthine corridors, his lantern casting flickering shadows on the walls.

“He is dangerous,” the warden warned, his voice low. “Many have tried to tame beasts like him. None have succeeded.”

“I seek not to tame him,” you replied, your words firm. “Only to remind him that he is not alone.”

The warden said nothing more, but his skeptical glance spoke volumes. Finally, he stopped before a heavy iron door. Producing a key from his belt, he unlocked it with a grating screech and gestured for you to enter.

Kyofusho sat in the far corner of the cell, his frame hunched and gaunt. The dim light revealed the bruises that marred his skin, a testament to the cruelty he had endured. His hands were bound, his movements restricted by chains that clinked softly as he shifted. But it was his eyes that broke your heart the most. Those pitch-black orbs, once filled with a flicker of defiance, now seemed hollow, as though the darkness within them had consumed him entirely.

“Kyofusho,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head slowly, and for a moment, he stared at you as though you were a ghost. Then his lips parted, his voice a rasp barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “Why hast thou come?”

You stepped closer, kneeling before him so that your faces were level. “I could not leave thee here. Not like this.”

His laughter was bitter, a sound that cut through you like a blade. “Thou art a fool. Dost thou not see? This is where I belong. The world hath no place for monsters such as I.”

“Thou art no monster,” you said fiercely, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but you did not pull away. “Thou hast suffered, aye, but suffering doth not define thee. There is more to thee than pain.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours. Then, as though a dam had broken, the words spilled from him in a torrent. He spoke of his torment, of the chains that bound not just his body but his very soul. Of the voices that whispered to him in the dark, telling him he was unworthy of kindness, of love. Tears streamed down his face, and he trembled beneath the weight of his anguish.

You listened, your heart breaking with every word. And when he could speak no more, you pulled him into an embrace, holding him as though your arms alone could shield him from the world’s cruelty. “I see thee, Kyofusho,” you whispered. “And I shall not turn away.”

› That night, as the fortress slumbered, you made your decision. You would not leave without him. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more precious. He was a soul who had been battered by the tides of fate, a man who had endured so much and yet still clung to the fragile hope that someone might see the humanity within him.

The path ahead would not be easy. You would face dangers, betrayals, and hardships untold. But as you looked into Kyofusho’s eyes, now glimmering with the faintest spark of hope, you knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You would face the darkness together, you both thought, such an idea swirling within the depths of your mind, but Kyo - Kyofusho,

❝I'LL MAKE SURE OF THAT.❞

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑

‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

╰┈➤ kyofusho (Kyo) x reader

╰⪼ yet again, my deepest apologies if my English doesn't harbor such mastery as some authors do, English isn't my first language! And so - I am absolutely elated to find out that my favorite author has noticed me! @tnsophiaonly I hope that you aren't bothered by this at all!

And @saikowatermelons I am so delighted to find more OCs! It's amazing! And very interesting, I wish to be an active participant of this little fanfiction! Also seeing Adero's appearance has some what gave me motivation to do some art, if you don't mind! That saying - enough adero, kyofusho is actually quite interesting! He has the most potential of being a really tragic yandere! This one isn't really a drabble, but instead a full on fanfiction, I hope I did well, sorry it's not that long.

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Ok imagine your a “street rat” (medieval AU) and you steal a piece of bread to eat and you get stopped by knight ghost and taken to be punished your absolutely terrified thinking that he’s going to kill you but he’s oddly obsessed over you

lotsss of angst please 🙏 thank you!!

Simon Riley - Medieval Au

Knight Simon Riley x Thief Reader

It's a busy day in the market, you practically have to swim in between people since the streets are so packed. Surely no one would see you take a slice of bread?

You swipe a piece of bread, hiding it in your pocket. It's something you've done a million times. You were a pickpocket, it's how you survived. You only took what you needed, surely no one would blame you for wanting something to eat?

You maneuver your way to an alleyway, empty and isolated from the crowd. You take the bread out of your pocket and take a bite out. It instantly soothes the ache in your stomach, a constant feeling.

You are so hungry that you don't care to notice the clank of metallic armor coming into the alley and towards you. You have eaten the whole slice of bread when a cold gauntlet grabs you by the scruff of your shirt. You almost choke on the last bite of your stolen meal.

“You gotta pay for that, thief.” A low voice booms from behind you, you are roughly turned around. You turn to see a knight and your heart stops. You know what happens to thieves, they cut off your fingers and hang you.

“I- I was hungry-!” Your excuse is no help as he throws you into the alley wall, you groan in pain as you fall to the ground. That will leave a nasty bruise for sure. The air is knocked out of your lungs and you scramble away from the knight, farther down the dark alley.

“Shut up, don’t make this harder for yourself.” He spits, his tone makes your blood go cold. He draws his sword and you feel tears run down your face. He's going to kill you, right in the alley. You hope he at least makes it quick.

“Please.. Please- I don’t wanna die… Please don’t hurt me..” You beg the man as he points his sword at you. He follows you with slow steps as you scramble back, still on the ground. He scoffs at your begging.

“On your feet.” He orders you, and you quickly obey. He sheaths his sword and you feel relief run through you, but that is short lived as he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and drags you out of the alley with no remorse.

It's hard to breathe, the collar held so tight that it restricts a majority of your air flow. The people in the streets stop and stare, letting the man pass with a lot of room to spare. They seem to also be afraid of the man. You keep begging for him not to kill you as he drags you through the streets.

You are cut up and bruised, you try to get up to your feet but he pulls you down when you try. He doesn’t say a word as he drags you beside him. He ignores your pleading, your tears.

You are so distraught that you don't realise that he isn't even taking you towards the castle, where the prisoners are kept in the dungeon. He takes you to the outskirts of the city, where the crowd starts to thin out and the city blocks get longer.

[eetherealgoddess]

Hi! I love the way you write Kazutora and I'd like to request this specific brain rot I've been having about a female reader getting mugged by him and accidentally dropping and shattering her phone before she can give it to him, so he forces her to make up for the time and money he just lost, if at all possible with ar knife or gunpoint :)

Can’t believe I never thought of this even though I think of pervert Kazutora all the time. Also I think you meant noncon by “forcing her to make up for time and money,” so that’s what I wrote. Hope you enjoy!!♡︎♡︎♡︎

ꨄHow to Survive a Mugging ꨄ

Oneshot - Slight Yandere Mugging Au

Hanemiya Kazutora x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

How to Survive a Mugging

Your hand trembles as you attempt to pull your phone out of your leggings’ pocket while the knife is held against your throat from behind. You had just been going for a walk, something you haven’t done in a while. You had walked for at least an hour in total, ready to go back home for the day. Deciding to make a shortcut, you went through an alleyway so you didn’t have to walk back in the same long direction you took from the beginning. Unfortunately, cutting through an alley was one of the biggest mistakes you had ever made.

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens as you fidget in the stranger’s grip, the breath on your ear intimidating as the sharp object is held against your neck. You hadn’t brought your purse so you left your wallet at home. Considering you had no money on you, the only thing you could give the mystery man was your phone, something you hadn’t wanted to give. So when you grabbed it you purposefully dropped it to make it look like an accident.

“Shit!” He hissed against your ear.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m just really scared!” You cry out as he turns you around and shoves you against the wall. You stare in shock at the beauty on the man’s face, as well as his hair that is messily pulled back. His expression holds a stoic expression as the knife is against your throat once more, his other hand planted on the wall beside your head. You could only eye him with discomfort as you glance at your shattered phone. Fortunately, you’ll be able to transfer whatever you need into a new phone, content with not having given it to the stranger. Your eyebrows furrow when a smirk forms on his face.

“You did that on purpose.” His eyes shift to your chest before they run down your figure. He makes eye contact with you before he releases a chuckle.

“You’ve wasted my time. I should kill you.” His smile drops, giving you a cold look as the knife touches your skin. You flinch as you swallow against the cold object. You could already see from where he had used it on someone else, the dry blood that stained it prominent. Your heart pounds against your chest as your fingers fidget against your palms.

You thought about fighting back but you had no clue how to. You were terrified and ashamed at how weak you are as an adult woman. You knew the dangers yet you’ve been too lazy to learn how to fight or at least have the resources to take a few classes. You thought about pushing him away, though you run the risk of your neck getting sliced, so you stay in place.

He pulls back from you slightly as the smile grows on his face. He drops the knife to his side as he stares at you, his tattoo prominent against his neck.

“Wanna make it up to me?” He teases, a thumb caressing your cheek as his palm rests against your cheek. You don’t respond, seeing where he’s going with the statement.

“Get on your knees.” You shake your head.

“Please don’t make me do this!” He only chuckles as a hand meets your shoulder.

“Your begging only makes me want it more. Knees.” He demands with a close eyed smile. You had no choice but to comply.

“Pull it out.” You angrily unzip his pants as well as yank them down, tears threatening to fall in humiliation. He grabs your hand with the hand that isn’t holding the knife.

“Woah there, relax.” He chuckles. “I’ll slice your hand off if you’re too rough.”

You remove the erection from his underwear. A hand on your chin forces you to look up.

“Treat it like it’s yours, yeah? Any teeth and you’re dead. Understand?” You glare at him while nodding your head.

Leaning in, you drag your tongue along the mushroom top, circling it as you taste his precum. His hand rests on your head as he bites his lip. You ease his head in as you suckle the tip, him eyeing the lips surrounding his cock.

“Fuck.” He whispers under his breath, slightly thrusting his hips forward to ease the rest of his cock in, your lips meeting the base as he moans. He pulls your head back until the tip is at the edge of your lips before pulling you back to his base. His mouth is slightly parted with a red hue on his face, orbs eyeing you under heavy lids.

“Look at me.” You comply as you bob your head back and forth, accelerating your speed as you give your all in an attempt to finish him off fast. The squelching sound echoes through the alleyway, a mixture of saliva and cum dripping from your mouth as you take him into your throat. Your hands grip his thighs as he thrusts into your mouth. His head falls back before he thrusts harder, bringing his attention back on you when he looks down.

“Yeah, just like that baby. Take this dick.” He whispers as his hand grips your head. Your eyes shut as his thrusts become overwhelming. Fingers pinch your nostrils as your eyes shoot back open.

“I’ll fucking smother you with my cock if you don’t look at me.” He chuckles with a dazed expression. “If you wanna breathe, you better listen.” He says before releasing your nose and placing his hand back on your head. Tears stream down your face as his grip tightens, fucking your mouth harder as his hips thrust against your face. Moans leave his mouth as his body tenses, golden eyes narrowed at your own orbs.

Your nails piercing into the skin of his thighs causes him to groan louder, the sting mixing well with the warmth around his cock.

“M’ gonna cum.” He mutters before shoving his cock into your mouth, holding it in place as semen shoots down your throat causing you to swallow it all. You grunt as you try to breathe normally again once he releases your head and pulls his cock out of your mouth. He demands you to put his pants back on, watching you with amusement. He leans over, the tip of his knife poking your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“You’re my new cockslut. Let’s get your phone fixed since we’ll need that to talk.” You look at him with confusion.

“I-I thought you were gonna let me go.”

“I never said that.” He puts his knife away. “Let’s go.” He grabs your wrist, forcing you to get up from the ground.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, could you write a yandere alphabet or concept for Kreacher Pierson from IDV? Preferably with a gender neutral reader? No rush or mandate to write this! :3

Ohh... I haven't written for IDV in forever. Hope you enjoy :) May be OOC as I forgot how he acts a bit. Not fully proofread, may have mistakes spelling-wise.

Edit: Oml I forgot how creepy he actually IS in his lore 😰

Yandere Alphabet - Kreacher Pierson (Thief)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Touchy behavior, Possessive behavior/Jealousy, Deceit, Punishment, Creepy behavior, Isolation, Kidnapping implied, Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

From what I remember, Kreacher is an interesting if not unnerving character. He already has creep/stalker vibes if we're to take Emma Woods' Diary into consideration (but the truth of that is dubious iirc). Kreacher is also good at masking his behavior, acting as though he genuinely wants to help others... shown in his backstory that he wishes to open an orphanage twice which was most likely a front to convince orphans to steal for him, so that was a ruse.

He's a persistent man and doesn't quite know when to "give up". He's a greedy and cruel survivor, not afraid to use deceit to get what he wants. Unfortunately, his obsession is also subjected to such things.

Kreacher seems like he'd be a yandere who craves physical affection, holding his darling close to him and refusing to let them leave his side. He's obviously not a good man but his obsession intensity seems... moderate.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Kreacher doesn't seem like he'd kill necessarily. He seems like a bit of a coward, so he'd be better off with sabotage and manipulation.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Overly affectionate and possessive. He wouldn't mock you but he'd be incredibly delusional while caring for you. He thinks you love him as much as he does you, so he clings to you tightly.

You don't, you're scared of/hate him.

He might get carried away but tries to listen when you protest.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Kreacher has moments where he's open with his feelings, appearing vulnerable when he clings to you. Other times he's more closed off around you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Upset, often then blaming you for "not making things work".

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and he doesn't enjoy you trying to escape.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Hm... I'd say his punishments or frequent attempts at affection. He doesn't understand your rejection, which is really disturbing... I will not sugarcoat that.

This man is bad news.

Probably being your spouse, he's already plotting marriage out and everything as he gazes at you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Yes and I imagine him pestering the one who was around you. He's possessive and envious when others are too close. If only he'd leave you alone....

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Obsessive, Manipulative, Deceitful, Possessive, Easily jealous, Controlling, Clingy, Flirtatious, Overly affectionate.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Kreacher most likely met you during his manor game. Since he laid his eyes on you, he's smitten. This leads to him often trying to speak with you or win you over.

Kreacher is an impatient man but he tries his best to court you normally. However, we all know he's bad news based on his behavior. Seeing you not reciprocate makes him manipulate you, pretending to be nicer than he actually is...

Perhaps you'll believe him as someone who wants to help you...

Until he slips and reveals the deceitful man he really is.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He plays himself off as "an innocent man who wants to help others"... in reality he's a cruel man with his own selfish desires.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Kreacher genuinely seems like the type of yandere to lock you in your room of the manor until you "learn your lesson".

That's probably the least intense punishment.

But if you be good... he'll reward you for being his good darling~

He's such a creepy guy... I am slowly remembering this as a write him and look at his lore... *shiver*

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

None unless there's "no choice".

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Kreacher is an impatient yandere.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No, he would not. He'd have a breakdown and everything.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and no.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

It's hard to say... but I'd say upbringing?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He actually does try to comfort you... as much as you hate it.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Feeding into his delusions just enough to leave.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not intentionally.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He has worship yandere tendencies at times, feeling his darling is perfection. He'd go to great lengths and do anything to have his treasure.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Little pining, Obsession at first sight for him.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not intentionally.

[kit-williams]

First Kiss

Male Lead(s): Ghosk, Tyberos, Raven Guard Trio, Tulio, Harram Female Lead(s): Rabbit, Ophelia, Dove, Psychi, Orichalcum Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marine Canon Status: ??? Depends on the boy

note: Tyberos & Harram aren't exactly fluffy (Ghosk is questionable fluff) BUT YA'LL PICKED THE MOST QUESTIONABLE MEN FOR KISSES

Ghosk Ghosk looked down at her in his nest... fast asleep as his black eyes looked over her as he crawled over her just hovering above her like some sort of twisted spider. In the pitch blackness of the room he could see her in the darkness. "Rabbit." He whispered to her watching her eyes flutter open as his wings also encased around her as well... truly blocking out any light that could reach her.

"Ghosk?" She whispers out before holding her breath just feeling the much larger face hover right over hers.

He can hear her heart pounding hard in her chest as he snapped his jaws near her ears... he couldn't help but continue to terrorize her... she spoke so casually... he could punish her... he watched her flinch and her breath quicken.

"Ghosk." She whimpered with her voice so small... his tongue pushing against her skin as she let tears roll down her cheeks. "Please... you win."

He was a vile monster of a man... a heinous creature that practically lived off of fear and torment... but he got no sick satisfaction out of making her cower in fear... no delight in this torment. He sighed pressing his forehead to hers, "I'm sorry Rabbit." He hummed as he gave a cruel smile, "You still don't make me feel any joy in bringing you fear." He pulled away... his hands cupped her face using his thumbs to brush away his saliva and her tears... he was a coward... a cruel creature... he stared at her lips. He watched her face as she closed her eyes and relaxed in his grip... leaned into his touch.

He was a coward to not let her see his face... to see the uncertain look in his eyes or the tender smile... to let her see what affection he held for his rabbit... his bunny rabbit. He was such a coward... as his mouth pressed to hers. His clawed hands laced into her hair as he kissed her. And to his surprise... she kissed him back.

Tyberos Tyberos knew she was tired... she was sore from his affections... he was a brute and he knew it but it was something he couldn't help. She had cried out those hot tears of pain and betrayal when he confronted her with the truth that she had been handed over to his chapter. He hardly felt like an angel of the Emperor... he was a creature of the void. He was the Void Father for a reason... he made the hard choices and no amount of whispered apologies would return Ophelia to her ignorant life... he knew that.

They could have done it a different way... gotten her to give up her precious biology another way and far more willing... but Tyberos was tried. In a sense he was tired of swimming alone... even if she reluctantly swam with him... she was there and smelt like a blissfully ignorant planet... she smelt like naivety... she smelt like what they were suppose to be protecting. She was something that he wasn't suppose to have.

His maw refused to release it's bite upon the creature from the land lost in the middle of the ocean. He knows he doesn't deserve to gorge upon the flesh in front of him but he cant stop. No amount of whispered apologies will undo what he's done... what bites he's left on her flesh... what marks are his that will fade in time... if given the chance... he cant unhear those pleading shrieks of both fear and delight ripping from her throat like a drowning beast.

He sulked in the moment as he looked at her... his shame... his sin... the person who made something in his brain itch aberrantly. He licked her skin clean of her sweat... pressing his tongue against her cheeks... he pauses feeling her swipe her tongue against his and he pulls back before he feels her small hands pull her body back to his. Her lips pressing into the unruined portion of his as she whimpers and begs for some modicum of affection and in the dark of the void he gives he cannot stop himself from giving... and giving... and giving... till there was nothing more of himself to give.

Sor/Kazi/Moremo Kazi is the first to get a kiss from their Dove... it's not very hard especially after her man leaves... leaving her alone with them... he couldn't stop himself at first... stealing pecks and kissing her cheek till he caught her smiling so happily up at him with such hope in her eyes! Kazi couldn't stop himself from picking her up as she laughed in joy and then the tension between them broke. Oh yes Kazi got tongue that first kiss with Dove... he would have loved to have more.

Moremo steals his kiss from Dove early one morning as she tried to make him breakfast... but her skills weren't exactly in cooking. But she clearly had felt guilty over letting Kazi kiss her first and so she tries to make him food to the best of her ability but the way he just looks her down... just has that way over her... she can't help but get on the tips of her toes and give him a gentle kiss.

Sor is the last one to get the kiss from their shared darling... after her brushing so close to death she clings to him so fearfully. How heavy her tears are as she looks up to him for protection and comfort and how Sor gives it so easily. How eager their lips crashed into each other and he had to hold himself back from jumping her bones as her smell flooded his senses and he had to pull his lips away from hers leaving them both breathless. His body shivering as he watches their dove lick her lips of his saliva.

Tulio You frown as you can't figure out what to give to Tulio... he has given you so much! Gifts! Saving your life! How he tries to pry how much of your contract you have left... you can't let him buy your contract not even if he intends to free you... then you'd emotionally be indebted to him and that would just confuse you!

He is trying to figure out what is wrong with you as you were going to give him something but in your haste you had forgotten it and you didn't want to have him walk all the way back and he is chattering just his grass green eyes looking at your own so tenderly... you're confused as some of his actions feel romantic yet other times it is pure of heart and it makes you feel like a harlot.

You cup his face as he coos that nickname he has given you... and you feel your heart beat wildly in your chest as the concern on his face grows and you wonder if it's beating loud enough for him to hear. "Dearest Psychi what is-" Is all he gets out before you kiss him hard.

You feel him tense up and then his hands suddenly upon you as panic overwhelms you for a moment as you try to babble your apologies before his mouth is on yours again as you are cradled in his arms leaning fully back and you close your own eyes as you hope this will be a better make up gift for him then the small granite charm you had gotten him.

Harram He wishes he could say that his first kiss with Ori was a passionate affair... he's made sure every kiss since that first has been loving and not just out of instincts. But it was during her pleading her begging as he bedded her to help her rid of those Xenos hands.

He remembers the way her kiss seared his lips as her short nails dug into his flesh as sweat gathered between their bodies... the way she pulled her hear away to watch their repeated joining with glazed eyes and a slack jaw of pleasure... unabashed pleasure unlike that guilty pleasure she felt with the xenos.

There was no Xeno threatening Ferrum... there was no need to trick herself into feeling pleasure... it was just the two of them... and oh how backwards he has gone in this... courtship. Bedding her first then catching feelings... but perhaps he had already caught feelings the moment he saw her laying there.

Blood oozed out of a cut on her lip and their tongues danced together as they tasted iron... perhaps it was quite khornite the way he cut his own lip to smear his own blood in her mouth but she drank of it with pleasure in her eyes. She was made of iron... and Harram was hardly wrong about that.

Fluffuary Tag List: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

[crowseulogy]

you are the most beautiful god on this foul earth, the light you radiate simply can't ever leave my side from now on, that's why it has to only be us forever !!

[romanceddawn]

post canon where tkb is mostly accepted into the group and calmed down some on the world ending thing but he cant help but be a yandere still so hes constantly being really weird on his recent crush on yugi who doesnt realize because tkb's being so nice now! he's helping yugi with security at the shop and hanging out with him! (not realizing that tkb's doing that to know where all his secruity weak points are so that he can sneak into yugi's room from his skylight and watch him while he sleeps and steal memento's for himself)

[brotherslayer]

still thinking about how Derrick canonically stole things from Penelope's room

[blonde-fraumell]

Alright. Okay. Alright. Hear me out. I need to get this down before my brain stops working (or goes back to obsessing over yet ANOTHER story...)

This is about my Subnautica AU that may or may not happen. Feel free to ignore. ((This is... turned out much longer than anticipated))

One of my dear commentors on Eclipsed Rhythm (Ch 3) said something about Glitchdrop being the next LO, and I was like: I... have never really separated the OG Eclipse and Glitchdrop.

BUT there are many who see Eclipse and Glitchdrop as separate.

Hell, I answered an ask a long time ago about RU!Sun (purple eye one will now be called Infected!Sun, since I have a Virus AU) and was confused was the asker meant! So I talked about the differences between Eclipse and Glitchdrop! Like shit man.

Why haven't I fully thought about my own Glitchdrop?

SO! Here's my thought. Glitchdrop (will call Glitch from this point on) isn't a Siren Leviathan like Sun, Moon, or Eclipse. At least not really.

To those who have played Subnautica, remember the Warpers? They were created by the Precursors/Architects. Bio-organic creatures. What if THAT'S what Glitch is?

And experiment to see if the Precursors could CREATE a siren leviathan. Another way to spread the cure maybe? I don't really discuss the issue of the Kharaa bacterium in my fics, BUT this could be something.

However! Trying to make a bio-organic leviathan proved to be EXTREMELY dangerous. The one they made was unstable in every sense of the word. Energy levels spiked erratically, to the point the leviathan was electrocuting or burning everything he touched. His mental stability was gone and the Precursors couldn't control him.

He was more dangerous than a Sea Dragon Leviathan, which not even the Singularity Siren (Eclipse) subspecies could handle.

Glitch was contained, deep in a facility in the Void. He was never meant to get out. But when the Precursors left, Glitch escaped. He wandered the world, killing and destroying everything in his path. Until one day, he found something small. Weak. Ferocious.

Another survivor from the Aurora. Different from Riley in the game, different from the reader in Leviathan’s Song, and different from Crumb in Eclipsed Rhythm. (This tale would occur at the same time as Crumb's)

Glitch finds this new Reader and becomes obsessed. The little landwalker is nothing like anything he's seen, he's killed.

He wants to know more. He wants to play with this creature, this human. He wants them to be his and his alone. Nothing would touch them, nothing would harm them. The human was Glitch's.

As for the human? They would be on the more oblivious side (cuz we love dense and yandere dynamics). They see this massive monster and is just "Oh wow. He must just want a friend! Why can't the PDA figure anything out about him? Oh! Maybe the PDA just needs an update!"

[green-butterfly-writes]

How I imagine the confrontation post chapter 2 to go:

Damian: TODD! Why did not inform us that your informant was an animal? That is important information!

Jason (still high off his ass on painkillers): issssssnonabisssswissss… FUCK! yooouuuu…

[luv-lock]

⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really… bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Hi! I was wondering if you were going to do a pt. 2 of the ghost and thief reader post? Also, I hope you drink enough water and have an amazing day!

Simon Riley - Medieval Au Part 2

Knight Simon Riley x Thief Reader

Tears stream down your face and your heart pounds out of your chest as he drags you inside of a cottage just out of town. You continue to beg him not to kill you, clutching at his wrist. He shuts the door behind him with a slam, and you choke out more sobs, he's gonna do something worse than kill you.

His grip loosens on the collar of your worn shirt, and he grabs your bicep instead. You finally start to notice that you aren't in the dungeons, and you are so confused. You glance around, eyes flickering over the room. He's brought you to his home, and by the looks of it, he is a very high ranking official.

Your sobs stop in a moment of confusion as he drags you by the arm to his washroom. It's a miniature bathhouse, you've only ever dreamed of such luxury. The floors are ornate, handmade tiles and you can smell all of the expensive soaps. He closes the washroom door and he sits you roughly against the wall, you start to cry again as he takes off his armor.

He removes his helmet last, and he is the most angelic person you've ever seen. It's ironic to even call him angelic after the treatment he has put you through in the last 20 minutes. He ignores your crying as he takes off his boots and rolls up his sleeves. You scramble away as he approaches you again.

His face betrays no emotion as he grabs you by you arm again. He sits you back in the original spot he had placed you in by the door.

“Don’t fucking move.” He lears at you, and he seems satisfied when you freeze in fear of his tone. He narrows his eyes and lets go of your arm. He goes to the corner on the other side of the door where he starts to warm up some water over a fire. It's a giant metal basin, and you shakily watch as he fills it up to the brim. He makes sure the fire is big enough to warm up the water. He glances back at you to make sure that you haven't moved.

After several minutes, steam starts to fill the small bathhouse, and the air gets warmer. You watch the man with wide eyes as he makes sure the water is warm enough, and he effortlessly bumps the basin into the porcelain bathtub in the middle of the room. He returns to the fire and refills the basin full of water, then he turns to you.

You begin to cry as he grabs you, he doesn’t seem to be as rough anymore. He shushes you as he takes off your shirt, and you scratch and fight him. He seems annoyed but he makes no comment as you try to fight him.

He pulls your trousers off as you cry and sob, begging him to not hurt you. He picks you up by your underarms and he plops you into the warm bathtub. You are shaking from fear, you've never had a warm bath before. The water is nice but not nice enough to fight off the thoughts of what he might do to you.

He looks over his several bottles of soap, you’ve never seen a bottle up close before. He decides on a green glass bottle, and he pops the cork off and he dumps the soap onto the top of your head and the rest into the warm bath water. He starts to scrub you clean, starting with your hair.

His movements are very firm, like he wants to scrub your skin off. You feel so vulnerable and exposed by his treatment of you.

“You're not as filthy as I thought’ you’d be..” He says to you, rinsing your hair out with a clay bowl and the warm water from the basin over the fire. He moves to scrub your arms with a rag and more soap from the green bottle. You finally notice how nice it smells, like wild mint and rosemary.

“Makes things easier for me.” He mutters the last part as he finishes cleaning you up. He picks you up out of the bath as you continue to sob quietly. He rinses you off with the clean and warm basin water. You feel goosebumps all over your body as the heat from the water quickly leaves you. You curl into a ball on the tiled floor and shake from the cold and the fear of the unknown.

He dries you off with a towel, and he wraps you in it. He picks you up and puts you back by the door. You shiver and try to cover yourself up more as you watch him empty the bathtub of dirt water. He pours the water outside his window using another large clay bowl as you dry off.

You can’t believe that this is happening to you. Is he going to sell you for money? Is that why he gave you a bath, so you could sell for more? You can only imagine, and the thoughts of horrible things seem to consume you.

[klemen-tine]

Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)

Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI

TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.

In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.

In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@testishere

Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 

Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 

E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 

“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 

The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 

“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 

“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 

“All of them.” 

“...what?” 

“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 

“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 

“Let's leave tonight.” 

“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 

“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 

The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 

Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 

“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 

“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”

“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 

“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 

Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 

+++

She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 

Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 

A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 

“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 

“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 

“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 

Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 

Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 

“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”

“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 

“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 

“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 

“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 

Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  

“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 

“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 

“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 

“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 

“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 

“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 

“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 

Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 

Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 

“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 

Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 

“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 

When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 

Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 

“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 

“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 

“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 

Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 

“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 

He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 

Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 

“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 

“And what about you?” 

“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 

Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.

“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 

It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 

Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

++++

It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 

However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 

Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 

They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 

They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 

When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 

Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 

Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 

Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 

He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 

In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 

Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 

“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 

Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 

Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 

After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 

The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).

This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 

Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 

“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 

He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 

“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 

Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 

‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 

Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 

Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 

They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 

“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 

“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 

“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 

“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 

Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.

Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 

Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 

He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 

“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 

Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 

With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 

“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 

She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 

“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 

“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 

Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 

Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 

To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 

Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 

“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 

“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 

The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 

He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 

That they are the Wayne family. 

God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 

“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 

“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 

Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 

‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 

________________________________________________

Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I Part III Part IV

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood, (Menstion of past) Kidnapping

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing got a few swings in before he heard the sound of something falling onto the ground

He looks up to see that you've pulled the knife out of you and about to stand up

Before Nightwing could help you, his opponent throws a punch while he was distracted.

The vigilante shifts his attention to the thief when you suddenly make an escape. Night wing attempts to call out to you but it appears you didn't notice.

He sighs as he handcuffs the thief. This guy was such a hassle that Nightwing almost forgot why he was in such a hurry to wrap up the whole situation

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home