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why-am-i-here-someone-save-me · 1 year

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@reinbouxsworld I DID THE THING! THE THING I ASKED ABOUT! I DID IT! WHOOOOO!!! HOLY SHIT THAT TOOK A LONG TIME IM GONNA GO PASS OUT NOW (also plz tell me what you think about it because i genuinely really really want to know 🥺)

also this is like literally my first time writing for the twst fandom so like have mercy with me y’all-

@chiaraghia You introduced me to this game and I blame you entirely for this new hyperfixation 😤 thank you bby

This fic is inspired by this glorious post by the amazing @reinbouxsworld

Of Darkness & Dreams

You struggled to keep yourself steady, adrenaline threatening to expose your uneasiness at your situation. Considering who was in front of you, that would most certainly be a bad move. It was almost surreal. You’d never been afraid of him before, but now…

Now you were beginning to understand why his reputation was so intimidating. Now you were starting to grasp why so many people were nervous about him.

“Malleus I-” Your words were cut off by the fae holding a finger to your lips, an indecipherable expression in his eyes. You were… honestly not sure how to feel about this.

On one hand this was Malleus, your friend, arguably your best friend! You cared about him deeply, and well… You had assumed he cared for you as well.

This pressure though… This was nothing like the Malleus you knew. This was new. This was different. This was… frightening.

This wasn’t Malleus, your best friend.

This wasn’t Malleus who would excitedly talk about gargoyles with you.

This wasn’t the Malleus that you had fallen for.

This was Malleus Draconia.

This was the Thorn Prince.

“You’re shivering… Are you cold [Name]?” He wasn’t wrong, you were indeed shivering. Not of chilliness, but rather of fright. You were afraid of the person in front of you. You were afraid but yet… You still loved him. As frightening as he is at the moment, you loved him. You loved Malleus.

“No, that’s not it is it..?” The fae’s eyes widened slightly in realization. “You are afraid… [Name] you aren’t… Y-You aren’t afraid of me, right?” If you weren’t as close to him as you are, you wouldn’t have noticed the way that Malleus’ voice trembled. He looked as though you’d just told him you hated him, hurt and betrayal swirling in his green eyes. You wanted to reassure him that you loved him, that you cared about him deeply, even if you were a little bit on edge at the moment. You swallowed thickly and opened your mouth to deny the fact that you were scared, but the words died in your throat as you locked gazes with him. His expression sharpened slightly, and when he next spoke, his words were steely, harsher than any words you’d ever heard from Malleus before.

“[Name]. Answer me. Do you fear me?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. It was an order.

You found the words pouring out from your lips without your input, complying with the fae’s instruction without any regard to your own volitions. “…I am afraid Malleus. You are frightening me. I don’t want to be afraid of you. I care for you, b-but I’m afraid. I-I’m sorry…”

Malleus looked as though you had just stabbed him through his heart, betrayal readily apparent in his features. He turned away from you, releasing you from his arms. Instinctively you reached out for him, trying to comfort him, but you froze when the fae practically snarled at you. “Don’t.” You flinched back, your body ignoring your orders to hug the distressed fae. You stood there trembling, unsure how to rectify the situation.

“……I thought you were different than the others [Name]. You treated me like… like a normal person. You accepted me as I was and I trusted you! I trusted you! I trusted you and I loved you!!!”

You’d never heard him so furious. But almost as quickly as it came Malleus’ fury fizzled out, his fit of rage seemingly having passed.

The amount of pressure in the air told you otherwise.

“…No. No I refuse to accept this… Am I not good enough for you [Name]? Is that it?”

You blinked a few times in shock. Good enough? Malleus? Was he joking? No, no he wouldn’t be this erratic if it were a joke. “Not good enough? Malleus that’s… That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard-” He cut you off before you could finish. “You aren’t denying it. So that’s it then, isn’t it?”

Before you could retort you register a soft sound, which seemed deafening due to the previous silence.

plip.

plip plip.

plip plip plip.

A bitter, acrid smell suddenly reached you, causing your eyes to water. It was one you were far more familiar with than you’d have liked. You instinctively stumbled back a bit, knowing what was happening yet unable to prevent it from unfolding. Your stomach twisted uneasily, queasy at the memories associated with the all to familiar stench. You already knew what it was.

Blot.

“M-Malleus wait c-calm down please, d-don’t let go of yourself. F-Focus Malleus focus! Y-You’ve got to calm down, p-please calm down-” Your words were interrupted by a small gasp of surprise, as in the blink of an eye Malleus had turned to face you once again, tilting your face towards him with a gentle touch. You shuddered involuntarily.

Malleus’ beautiful green eyes were locked onto you, yet seemed unfocused despite the intensity of his gaze. Just as you had dreaded, an oily black color was bleeding down your dearest friend’s face, staining it with the same pitch black darkness that you’d seen so many of your other friends succumb to. Already it was dripping to the floor, the stench so potent it left your head spinning.

“M-Malleus y-you-” Once more he held a finger to your lips, quieting your protests. The vacant look in his eyes was gone, leaving in its place the presence of wistfulness and longing in its place. “Shhh… No need for words right now my dearest Child of Man. There will be a time for that later.”

The fae cradled your face in his hands, lime green eyes literally glowing with both emotion and magic. “For now my love-” A flicker of brilliant green fire danced in front of your eyes, stealing your attention. You wanted to look away, you knew you needed to look away, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes from the flame’s emerald light.

“-Here, a gift from me…”

The fire vanished, freeing you from the trance it had placed you in. Confusion filled you, only to give way to realization moments later, and turned to despair seconds after.

You felt sleepy.

You shouldn’t be, you’re terrified right now, adrenaline should be keeping you alert and wide awake. You know its Malleus. You know he’s behind this. But the dullness that was washing over your senses didn’t abide by your logic, and the exhaustion that had begun to dawn on your body cared little for your rationale. Your eyelids began to droop, even as you mumbled words of protest.

“…N-No Malleus p-please… I d-don’t wa-want to… sl-sleep… st-stop pl-please st-stop…”

The prince merely chuckled a small bit in response to your drowsy pleas, smiling down at you as you began to fall into his arms, to exhausted to hold yourself up any longer.

“There is no need to be afraid.”

The world around you began to grow dark and blurry, sounds fading in and out and colors spinning and swirling together like an artist mixing a new hue.

“A thousand years will feel like a dream; And I will give you a real happy ending…”

Your eyes finally closed as you succumbed to the spell, breathing slowing down as the thorny tendrils of cursed sleep ensnared your psyche.

“Sleep well my love…”

#it’s official yall #im officially a twst simp #fml #anyways new hyperfixation go brr #malleus is like. jfc.#criminally beautiful #luci writes #twst malleus #twst x reader #malleus x reader #overblot malleus #overblot #overblot x reader #yandere undertones

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sleepy-planet · 8 months

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Tmnt!Obsessed blurb

Click, Shutter.

The whirring of a camera, the shuffling of a photograph came in the dark, echoing through the inky street.

The person, well, terrapin behind the camera smiled wildly, teeth all too sharp to be normal. Eyes focused on the most darling human, the one whom talked with friendliness in broad daylight.

Love for the human. Much more than what could be considered healthy. Bubbling, nearly spilling over the surface.

Careful, careful, all too careful. Silence must pierce the veil, cover the urge, no, the ache, to just shout out, to envelope YOUR warmth.

.....

Maybe tonight he'd be bolder. Maybe tonight he'd walk beside the human. After all, there were creeps out within these shadows.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Reminder! This is pure fiction and to engage in these fantasies in a consensual and safe environment, with a safe word and make sure it's just a scene.

#tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse x reader #tmnt 2012 #I wrote this to be Donatello #Yet you can choose which boy ya want #im back from the dead #tw obsessive behavior #tw yandere #Yandere undertones #TW red flags #Little blurb #I felt like posting #Not exactly yandere

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just-null-cult · 5 months

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Fr bro I love your energy! Noritoshi is so pretty and so criminally underrated. Keep up the good work in making more of us lusting publicly for him. You've done amazing job! That boy well-deserved it :)

tysm!! I try to open the eyes of the public to his qualities. join my cult yall, Noritoshi is so good listen to me.

but on the topic of energy, whether you're high or low energy, Noritoshi loves it. the only difference is how he reacts to it.

Let's say you're low energy or prefer subtlety in your affection..

Noritoshi will initiate first! ..after a while... in his own way.... He needs to gather enough courage and collect his thoughts properly, then hes good to go! He prefers more subtle displays of affection too, but if needed he'll be blunt about it. He'll learn to adapt to slightly teasing remarks, going as far as to banter and tease back, moreover he's just very loving. So loving it can be embarrassing from time to time because of how intense the atmosphere can get.. the best way he can be described here is princely.

A small smile forms on Noritoshi's lips when he feels you're around. He turns to you, already memorizing each and every quirk you have so that he doesn't waste any time setting his sights on you again. His hands reach out to tug on your sleeve as he looks at you with a gaze so needy you can practically tell what he's about to ask. "May i hold your hand?" His voice comes so smooth that if you didn't know him, you would've missed the twinge of desperation it carried. You couldn't help yourself, you shook your head, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto your lips at the sight of Noritoshi's pouted lip. Of course he'd do as you say even if it was clearly unfair, but not without some complaints. He clicks his tongue, a quiet mutter of "cheeky.." escapes under his breath. He knows you do this on purpose to mess with him, he was tempted to beg a little, but decided against it. it was an embarrassing thought to begin with. Seriously, how mean can someone be to make a guy think like this? ..Extremely, if the guy's pouting is cute enough! Noritoshi lifts his hand to his chin, thinking of the many ways he can try to get around this obstacle you cruelly placed in front of him. He leans in close, hovering next to you as he usually does when he thinks. He faces you as who knows what goes on in his head, his closed eyes not even giving you a hint as to what he could be thinking. "Ah, pardon me, I got lost in thought. I suppose i can keep my distance, so long as you keep looking at me with that charming gaze of yours." Ah, so he was just winding up for a pick up line. How lame, but.. get used to it. He's going to shadow behind you the entire day with more one liners like that unless you shut him up yourself. Wait.. was that his plan? The faint sly smirk tugging on the corner of Noritoshi's lips and the warm hue on the apple his of cheeks are all you need to figure out the rest.

If you're high energy or prefer more blunt methods of affection..

Noritoshi gets overwhelmed and flustered from such raw approaches from you that he comes off as a bit rude. It's only because you make his heart so full that he needs to shut you down or else he'll do something embarrassing!! He wants to impress you, of course he enjoys your advances very much, but it's not very slightly to see someone like him act like a crushing school girl!! or so he thinks.

Noritoshi yelps in surprise as you snake your hands around his waist from behind. He doesn't push you away or even move for that matter, he's frozen stiff. Is he still alive? Like any good lover would, you benevolently press your ear against his back to listen for a heart beat. ..You didn't hear anything until the sound of Noritoshi sharp inhale came through. That was unexpected, but it works. He squirmed a little, seemingly trying to shrug you off but quickly giving up, accepting the fact that you've got him trapped. "You imbecile, e-enough of this!" he scolded, though he made no actual effort to stop you. Noritoshi remains stiff for the most part, but looking at the back of his increasingly flushing neck reassures you that he is, indeed, alive. He's just being stubborn! Not turning or even a greeting, just rude name calling again! You raise one hand and place it over his heart to hold him tighter in your embrace. As expected, its practically pounding against his chest. He swats your hand away and finally turns back to you with those cute furrowed brows and rosy cheeks. "You're such a bully, you know that?" he huffs out, any semblance of sternness failing to take effect as his jutted bottom lip quivers. Mercifully, you finally let go and spare him by not pointing out the quiet whine he let out. He stumbles forward and turns around to face you fully, trying to keep an eye out for any more of your stunts while he catches his breath. He felt so dizzy from being in your arms, if he were held for a moment longer, he surely would've melted right then and there. Noritoshi's hands trembled as he smoothed out his clothes, his mouth opening and closing as any and all words died in his throat. He wanted to yell at you for being so forward, for giving him no chance to prepare, for letting go of him, for a lot of things..! Yet he just pouted as he tried to calm the flush on his face. His hands instantly whipped up in front of him when he noticed you took a step towards him. He can't handle another display of affection right now, he'll go weak at the knees! But how can you hold back when he's just so damn cute?

The most likely outcome is a mixture of both with a heavy leaning towards one. Either way, you're very right!! He's extremely pretty.

#noritoshi #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #ezralva #cw: shotty writing from an amateur writer who is desperate for you to see his vision and why hes frothing at the mouth over a guy #could you feel the yandere undertones. i couldnt help myself. sue me #basically you give him enough time to gather his rizz if youre low energy but jumpscare the fuck out of him if youre high energy #and you know how he handles jumpscares according to this cult #heh #oh and you got me kicking my feet and shit bro #lusting publicly for him.... i couldnt word it better myself #thats the entire reason for having a cult and indoctrinating the public. ty my beloved cult member #BUT YEAH. LIKE I HAVE TOO MUCH ENERGY AND BRAIN POWER DEDICATED TO THIS MAN #I GOTTA INFECT OTHERS CAUSE HES SO. RIPS OFF MY FACE #TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT. I EAT THOSE UP MORE THAN ANYTHING. I LOVE YOU BRO #GOD HE *****DOES***** DESERVE ALL THE LOVE AND ATTENTION FUCK. HES SO!!!!!!!!! //PUNCHES MYSELF

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goodday-goodmorn · 9 months

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Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

———————————————-

Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You… You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?��

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

#reader insert #fanfic of a fanfic #fiction #bruce wayne #platonic yandere #Dad Bruce wayne #i can’t believe i’m posting this #this is very self indulgent #inspiration #Wrote this after reading some of Blugh’s stuff late one night #fanfic #Erm- Blugh if ur seeing this hi?#platonic yandere batfam #Darker undertones #(?) kinda #dark themes #not super tho

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saintshigaraki · 3 months

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wolf hybrid yuuta x reader x wolf hybrid maki.....guys......

#give it some yandere undertones of course <3 #hybrid tw #vicspeaks

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glimmeringtwilight · 2 years

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After Hours

Modern AU Zhongli fic for the follower celebration! Took me fucken long enough... Not edited (or at least not as much as I'd like).

CW: Implied drugging but not explicit, light yandere themes, heavily implied imprisonment, unhealthy relationship dynamics, boss/worker relationship. Overall this one's actually pretty tame, all things considered.

Word count: 3.4k

There’s something weird about the look in your boss’s eyes when you come in to deliver him his coffee.

It’s a little ritual you’d started, something you thought would be nice (and maybe you want to suck up to him, just a little bit), bringing coffee to your boss. You made sure to bring coffee to some of the coworkers you liked as well so they didn’t tease you for your harmless habit, and if you were in a really generous mood, you’d bring some to the coworkers you didn’t always get along that well with. It was nice seeing them smile at you for once, even if it came from coffee bribes.

It didn’t stop all the teasing, though. Appeasing your coworkers with coffee only goes so far. Still, they were careful to only tease you about your little crush whenever Zhongli wasn’t in the office, out on business trips or important meetings.

You stopped arguing with them. You were a terrible liar, anyway, and it’s not like you’re the only one in the office with a crush on him. He’s handsome. You’re sure even some of your married coworkers have a crush on him.

And bringing him coffee is harmless, anyway. His assistant used to do it every morning too, before he’d delegated her to something (assistant stuff, you don’t know what it is she does, exactly) that demanded her attention each morning and she no longer had the time.

But lately, your boss has been giving you odd looks whenever you step into his office, coffee in hand, setting it on his desk in front of him before wishing him a good morning and returning to your own duties.

You wonder if you did something wrong. Does he not actually like coffee? You assumed he did, asking his assistant for his coffee order so you could surprise him. He seemed pleased with it, at first. He always smiled and thanked you… What changed?

Maybe he was just humoring you before. Maybe you got his order wrong. Or you mixed up his drink with someone else’s… But nobody else complained about the coffee you’d bring them.

Today was another one of those days.

Zhongli’s already poring over the reports from yesterday when you come into his office, pen quietly scratching against the paper as he writes.

You set the coffee against his desk and he glances up from the papers to you, then to the warm cup.

“Oh, thank you.” His tone is polite, but there’s that look again. You wish you knew what it meant. It’s not… anger. Or annoyance. If it were either of those, at least you’d know. You’d quit while you’re ahead, and stop this silly routine.

But it’s not. And you don’t know what it is, so until he says something, you’ll pretend it isn’t there.

“You’re welcome, sir.” You’re careful to keep your voice pleasant, avoiding his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything else. He’s still staring at you.

“...Well. I should get to work.” It’s awkward, like the smile you force before you turn on your heel to leave his office.

Zhongli calls your name and you stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck.

“Before you leave for the day, would you mind stopping by my office to help me with some of these reports? I’d like to borrow your eyes, if you don’t mind.” Oh. That’s it? Your shoulders slump with relief, and you don’t know when you’d hitched them up. You’d briefly wondered if he’d fire you over coffee, as silly as the worry seemed.

“Sure thing, sir.”

You look over your shoulder to see a small smile on his handsome face, and you wonder if he knows this– knows how handsome he is, knows it’s part of the reason you’d started bringing him coffee every morning as an excuse to linger around his office longer than a simple “good morning” would permit.

“Thank you.” He looks like he’s about to say something more, hesitating on the word resting still on his tongue. Then, he blinks, looking back down at the papers on his desk, and it’s gone.

You turn and leave without another word.

The rest of the day drags on, dulled by the prospect of getting to spend time after work with your boss. Sure, it’s for work stuff, but still!

It drags on, but eventually 5:00 rolls around and you get up from your desk, not bothering to collect your stuff just yet before making your way to Zhongli’s office, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” His voice rumbles from behind the door, and you step inside quickly, shutting the door behind you as you do.

Zhongli’s sat at his desk like this morning, except now his coat is draped over the arm of his chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You try not to gawk at his arms, pointedly looking at everything but him until you stop in front of his desk.

He takes two stacks of papers, handing them to you. “I’ve already finished with these, I just want you to look over them and make sure I haven’t missed anything.”

You nod. “Sounds easy enough.”

He smiles, motioning toward the seat beside his desk, and you try not to linger on how close it seems to him, even if there’s a few feet between that chair and his own. You take a seat, thumbing through each stack of papers. It’s just reports. Nothing interesting.

Zhongli goes back to work, and so do you.

You fall into a routine with him. Every day, when you come into work, he asks you to stay late again and help double-check his work. It’s a little odd, you realize. Why you? Why not his assistant? Your job description doesn’t even cover this. You just work in IT.

Still, you don’t complain. You get the opportunity to spend time with your hot boss after work. You’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It still unnerves you, the odd look on his face when you deliver his coffee. And sometimes you catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. But whenever you look over at him to catch him in the act, he’s poring over paperwork as usual.

You don’t mind the routine, but… It eats into your social life. You find yourself only having time to spend with your friends on your days off, and even then, not always that. Work starts calling you in on your days off. You have to cancel plans more and more often. Your friends begin to drift away.

It goes on like this for a month before you confront your boss about it, stepping into his office like any other morning, coffee in hand.

Your hand shakes when you set it down. He notices.

Zhongli sets down his pen, focusing his attention on you and frowning when you shrink anxiously away. You know you need to have this conversation. You need to set boundaries, let him know he can’t work you to death like this, but…

It still makes you nervous. You’re scared he’ll fire you if you put your foot down, and you really, really need this job. No other employer pays as much as he does, and with the cost of rent where you live now…

“What’s wrong?”

“I..” Your throat dries up, and you swallow. “I wanted to talk to you. About my hours.”

He raises a brow, motioning for you to continue.

“I don’t mind staying a little bit after to help you look over reports and all, but I need my days off. I can’t keep doing this without a break.”

Zhongli looks confused. “I wasn’t aware. I noticed you’ve been here on a few of your days off, but I didn’t realize it was becoming a frequent occurrence.”

You nod. “Well, it has.”

“Your department manager is the one who’s been calling you in, correct?” You nod again. “I’ll speak with him.”

Your shoulders slump in relief, thanking him as you slip quickly out of his office to let him go back to work. It’s a relief to know that he’s understanding, and a bigger one to know that he wasn’t aware you were so overworked. Even if he was the reason you were being called in (and not… whatever it was your manager was calling you in for. You’ll have to speak to him about it later), it probably wouldn’t have come from a place of malice. Everyone knows the boss is a workaholic. He probably doesn’t realize that not everyone practically lives in the office.

You get your days off that week, no calls from work.

The next week, as you’re doing your daily routine with Zhongli and poring over papers beside him (at some point the chair you’ve been using was moved next to his own so you could share the desk, not that you’re complaining), Zhongli abruptly looks up from his work, setting down his pen. You look up from your own stack of papers, curious.

“I’d like to take you to dinner.” What. You stare at him, dumbfounded, so he continues, “As thanks for your help these past few weeks.”

Ah. So not as a date. You try not to deflate. Still, it’s not like you’d want to pass this up. Free food is free food. And besides, it’s not a good idea to date your boss, no matter how handsome he is.

“Sure!”

It’s harmless. Just dinner with your boss, a small “thank you” for your hard work. You see nothing wrong with it. So when he makes a habit of inviting you to dinner, you don’t think anything of it.

You try, at least, not to drink any alcohol on these dinners, wanting to avoid making a fool of yourself in front of your boss. It’s not that you have a particularly low tolerance to it, you just… Never learned to take small sips, instead downing your drinks as quickly as possible. Besides, agreeing to these outings was questionable enough, you don’t want to get drunk around him too and end up doing something you regret.

But after a few weeks of this routine and a particularly stressful day of work, you give in and order some wine for the two of you.

“I didn’t know we shared the same taste in wine,” Zhongli remarks, examining the label after the waiter sets it down on the table and leaves. “This is my favorite kind.”

You try to look surprised, as though you totally didn’t interrogate his assistant earlier that day. “Oh, really?”

It’s not creepy. You only really chose his favorite wine so you’d feel less guilty for spending his money on it– even though he insisted on paying for these dinners. You were also curious to know what it tasted like, anyway, having never tried it yourself before.

There’s a knowing look in Zhongli’s eyes, and you feel an embarrassed blush creeping up. “...I just thought it sounded interesting, honestly.” A half-truth.

He pours you a glass and you drink it quicker than you probably should. Hey, at least then you can pretend the flush is just from the alcohol.

You’re three glasses in when you realize that you’re definitely drinking way too quickly. Zhongli’s hardly made a dent in his own drink, making you wonder if it’s a stronger wine than you first thought.

It was.

Those three glasses hit you hard, and even drunk, you still have the mind to feel ashamed. Ashamed isn’t the only thing you feel though, as Zhongli leads you back to his car and you take the opportunity to hold onto his bicep perhaps a little less innocently than you should.

He’s unusually silent, so you assume you’re being slick when you squeeze his arm a little, feeling the firm muscle through his dress shirt. You’re being helped into the passenger seat, a little reluctant to let go of his arm, but you forget your reluctance when he has to lean across you to buckle you in.

He smells like sandalwood, and… something else you’re too drunk to place right now. You’re not even sure if he actually smells like sandalwood, only placing the scent from candles you remember liking the smell of in bookshops.

The car rumbles to life. Zhongli must have gotten into the driver’s seat while you were busy trying to dredge through your memories of scented candles and soap shops and bookstores to place what his cologne smells like.

His car smells like him, you think absently. The radio plays at a quiet drone, too soft to really act as more than just background noise. Your eyes flutter shut.

You open them again when you feel something jostling you. Zhongli murmurs an apology to you as he lifts you out of the car into his arms. You can hear his heart beating steadily against one ear, and the warmth of his arms paired with the gentle thump of his heart lulls you back to sleep.

The next day, you wake up in a bed that’s not your own.

You panic, sitting up. A sharp pain throbs behind your eyes at the motion, making you wince, but you force yourself to stand and step out into the hall. The marble tile is fucking freezing against your feet, biting through your socks, and you wonder what happened to your shoes.

Hopefully, waking up alone means that nothing happened last night. That you just fell asleep drunk. That you didn’t fuck your boss, effectively throwing your career away in one fell swoop.

You find Zhongli in the kitchen (after a few minutes of wandering around the halls– his house is fucking huge), already nursing a cup of coffee. It’s bizarre seeing him in such a domestic setting, dress shirt swapped for a black turtleneck.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” You glance around. “Um… Where are my shoes?” Smooth. You should write a book. Social Etiquette for Dummies.

Zhongli, at least, doesn’t seem offended by your half-awake brusqueness. If anything, he looks understanding.

"In the foyer. I set them by the door." He pushes another mug your way, filled halfway with plain black coffee. “I’ll admit, I don’t know how you take it, so I figured it best to leave to you.”

Your hangover is both a blessing and a curse, distracting you from the awkwardness, but the throbbing of your head is killer. The light hurts your eyes, you feel nauseous… you regret waking up.

“...How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” You mumble, taking a sip of the black coffee he gave you, too hungover to care about the bitterness. At least it tastes like it’s quality coffee instead of whatever ungodly imitation of coffee seems to manifest in the breakroom at work. You’re convinced your coworkers just restock the breakroom with the worst “coffee” known to man as a prank.

Zhongli stands up, rummaging through some cabinets before you hear the rattle of a pill bottle. He comes back with two pills in hand, dropping them into your palm and returning to his seat. “Take the day off.”

“Sure.” Like hell you’ll look that gift horse in the mouth. You take the pills offered to you, downing the rest of your coffee with it and praying it kicks in soon so you stop feeling nausea swelling in your gut with every sudden movement.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence as he finishes his own coffee, and you feel the pain slowly ebbing. When he finishes his cup, he takes yours and sets both in the sink before turning to you.

“Do you remember when you first joined the company, what I’d said to you then?” He asks suddenly.

You try to blink the lingering tiredness from your expression. “Er… no?”

Zhongli’s gaze turns distant, tipping his head up to look at the ceiling as he recalls, “‘You are a cut above the rest.’ Even then, I’d known you would do well at the company. Your past spoke for itself, and you’ve more than proved yourself enough with your work ethic.”

Where is this coming from? Why is he talking about this now?

“I was a little disappointed when you turned down my offer of making you my assistant. I realize the job description is a little… lackluster, but it paid more than the position you applied for, and with your set of skills I thought you were perfect for the position.” Ah. You’d forgotten about that. He’d only offered once, but he looked understanding when you turned him down. You thought he’d forgotten too, honestly.

“I remember,” You start, unsure of where this conversation is headed, “I just didn’t want to change my mind at the last minute and end up with a job I’m not motivated to do… No offense. I just… I had my heart set on the position I applied for.”

“I see.” He looks like he’s weighing your words carefully as he chooses his next ones. “And is it what you wanted? Is it your dream job, as it were?”

You laugh. “Well. No, honestly.”

“Then, what is your dream job?” There’s a slight bit of dread beginning to form in the pit of your stomach. It’s like he’s fishing for something, trying to coax a certain response out of you, but you don’t know what or why he’s doing it.

“Well…” You humor him. You ignore the trepidation beginning to pluck at your nerves. He’s just asking simple questions, he’s not doing anything wrong… “To be honest, nothing. I’d rather spend my time traveling, seeing the world, learning new skills. I guess I could technically be a freelancer in that sense…?”

“And are you happy, working with the company?”

You should lie. You should lie and say yes, beyond the shadow of a doubt. What spills from your lips instead, is: “It has its ups and downs.”

Zhongli motions for you to continue.

“It…” You feel hot. “It’s… boring. But it pays well. And my coworkers are nice enough. Mostly.”

“Mm.” He taps his fingers against the countertop. “But are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy. My job is fine.”

Zhongli stares at you. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It’s sweltering in here suddenly, and his sudden strange line of questioning is not helping. His eyes hone in on the way you shift uncomfortably, tugging at your collar.

“Are you feeling alright? You look… unwell.” That look again. The one he’d give you when you bring him coffee in the mornings, but it’s gone again when you blink.

“I- I’m just a little warm, is all.” You excuse quickly, moving to stand. The room spins concerningly at the movement.

He’s at your side the second you sway unsteadily, taking ahold of your shoulders to steady you and placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “You’re running a fever.”

You interrupt him as he begins to guide you back to the room you woke up in by digging your heels against the tile (as ineffective as it is). “S-sir, I should really be heading home now.”

“... I’m afraid I’ve been pushing you too hard, lately. Please, just humor me and rest here a while until I can get you something to help you with that fever.” Zhongli’s stopped almost dragging you back now, but he gives an insistent squeeze to your shoulder.

It feels less and less like a request as his grip on you tightens with your silence.

You concede. “I suppose that’s alright…”

“Wonderful.” You’re practically swept back up into the bed once he guides you into the room, toeing the line between appropriate and… something else. Zhongli’s expression is neutral, unreadable, and he pulls away when you settle back against the sheets. “I’ll have to run to the store to pick up something to help with the fever, just rest here until then.”

You… feel like you’re sat in the mouth of a predator, its jaws slowly closing around you. You nod. The room spins with the motion.

Zhongli casts one last glance over his shoulder at you before shutting the door, and you belatedly realize what the look in his eyes was. Obsession.

The lock on the door clicks, the jaws snapping shut.

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