Can I Request Something Spicy For YanBatman With His Ex-WifeReader? 🫨

Hi I really enjoyed reading YANDERE PLATONIC TENGEN AND HIS WIVES ,do you think I could request yandere platonic tanjiro and nezuko hcs please💓

Yup and I’m so glad you liked Tengen and his wives.

TW: Yandere Themes, Overprotectiveness, Violence, Potential Anime Spoilers

Yandere Kamado Siblings

•You’re the third eldest of your family, a responsible and caring child. You and the Kamados’ had a wonderful and peaceful life. You would help Nezuko care for your younger siblings, and aid Tanjiro with selling coal.

•But all that changed when you and Tanjiro went out to sell coal and came back to discover that Muzan had killed your family- all except for Nezuko. Although she’s been turned into a demon, Nezuko doesn’t attack you. It’s as if her instincts are telling her not too. When Giyuu arrives you beg and plead for sister, only to be shoved aside. This angers both Tanjiro and Nezuko. However, Giyuu outmaneuvers both of them and knocks them out

•After that Giyuu directs you all to Urokodaki. During your journey Tanjiro holds your hand, until the demon attack and Nezuko kills it. Once they arrive at Urokodaki, Tanjiro comes to the conclusion that your safety comes above all else. He’s training to be a demon slayer, and Nezuko is a demon; but you? You’re their baby sibling, the only one left. They can’t lose you.

•Much to your protest, Tanjiro forbids you to become a demon slayer and makes you stay with Urokodaki when he isn’t there. Due to the danger he faces on missions, Tanjiro decides that you should remain with Urokodaki. And as much as it hurts him to leave you, and separate you and Nezuko, it has to be done. No amount of pleading or begging will change his mind.

•With Urokodaki, you find some semblance of peace. You miss your siblings, truly, but you enjoy the sense of freedom you found here. But that doesn’t last long because you’re reunited with them during the events of rehabilitation training arc, curtesy of Giyuu.

•Tanjiro and Nezuko are ecstatic to see you again! They’ve missed you so much. And you’re happy to see them too, of course. It’s just that, they’ve changed a little.

•Nezuko clings to you, constantly hugging you and patting your head. She will start sobbing if you try to leave her. And Tanjiro is no help considering he’s just as attached. You love them, you really do, but you need personal space.

•They’re also insanely protective, you’re barely allowed outside of Butterfly Manor when they’re there. You can just go outside for five minutes and they’ll be on your case. Nezuko will be wailing and cuddling you tightly while Tanjiro will scold you for leaving without them. What if you had gotten hurt or worse?! They’d never be able to live with themselves!

•Tanjiro wants nothing more for you to be happy, but your safety takes priority. Plus, you’ve got him and Nezuko and they’re all you’ll ever need. So just be good and let them take care of you.

Who is your favorite character to write for?

tw: yandere themes, very brief references to sexual themes, potential spoilers(?)

As of now it’s Douma. I’ve written him as both a platonic and romantic yandere, which got deleted, and I absolutely love writing him. The funny thing is he’s my least favourite character in the KNY-verse. Like, I utterly despise him, all I feel for him is pure hatred.

The main difference I see between platonic and romantic yandere behaviour is that platonic yanderes is the lack of attraction and desire for you in general. They want the things that you give them such as love or loyalty, they want to protect that and protect you. But romantic yanderes want to have you, own you, inflict whatever that pleasures them onto you. So generally, romantic yanderes are more harsher than platonic. Most importantly, platonic yanderes don’t want to break their darlings, they do not want them to become mindless creatures, and while there are romantic yanderes that don’t wang this as well, they tend to let it happen more than

And that’s where Douma comes in. Characters like Douma, that are emotionless, don’t have that difference in their views. Their darling is the one who gave them emotions, so your basically an extension of what they’re feeling. Although they do kind of differ the treatment.

For Douma the only difference is that there is no s***al gratification he gets from his treatment for a platonic darling, so it isn’t really done for pleasure I guess. More-so for peace of mind when it comes to his treatment of you. It basically cements your dependency on him, in his mind.

Yandere Platonic Ryukyu with Quirkless Child Reader

a/n: for @k1ngm1nt

tw: yandere themes, child neglect, child abuse, reader is like seven, canon-typical quirk-based discrimination and mistreatment, bullying, social services, maybe a little ooc

•As long as you’ve been alive you’ve dreamed of being a hero. You’d always play games of heroes and villains with your friends, pretending to have powerful quirks. But all of your dreams were shattered when you were told you were quirkless. You were devastated, as were your parents. They tried everything they could to “cure” you of your supposed disease. Yet all your parents accomplished was furthering your newly found self-loathing. Eventually, as a year or two passed, your parents gave up, not only on trying to manifest your quirk but on you as well. You were miserable, living with neglectful parents and constantly being bullied about your quirklessness.

•However, you found solace in heroes, watching their courageous exploits. In particular, the dragoon hero, Ryukyu, also known as Ryuko Tatsuma. She was your absolute favourite hero, you thought her quirk was amazing. But you would never be like her, or any hero, whispered a cruel voice in your head every time you felt an ounce of joy, forgetting your plight. And every time, you would be reduced to tears that everyone would either make fun of you for or ignore you with disdain in their hearts. Your situation made you become a mature child, handling things on your own. You knew that everyone regarded you as a burden, but you wanted to prove them wrong.

•Then one day, while you were walking home by yourself, a villain attacked. People were scattering in all directions, pushing and shoving in their desperation to find safety. Nobody paid mind to you as you were trampled over, then shoved into the reach of the villain. The villain noticed you immediately, and grabbed you. Cackling madly, he gleefully said that you’d be the first to go. Tears welled up in your eyes, but then a large dragon-shaped creature emerged, Ryukyu! You gasped in amazement, forgetting your fear. The villain stupidly let you go, opting for a greater kill of a Pro-Hero. You watched excitedly as your favourite hero took down the villain. Immediately after she won, people clapped and cheered for their saviour. However, she didn’t pay any attention to them, Ryuko’s mind was more occupied with the little child trembling.

•Ryuko made her way over to you, asking if you were okay. Still stunned silent, you nodded as a smile grew on your face. Ryuko felt her heartstrings being tugged. You were such a sweet and adorable child. Yet something felt off, not you but your situation. Where were your family? Usually someone related to a child would come running up, frantically searching for them. But nobody had come for you. Concerned, she inquired where your family was. Then, Ryuko saw your face fall as you explained that your mom and dad didn’t like you anymore because you didn’t have a quirk.

•Feeling her heart drop, Ryuko decided that she couldn’t stand by idly as you suffered. She walked you home, shocking your parents when they saw the pro-hero at their door. Ryuko calmly greeted them, although rage was boiling inside her. Your parents made fools of themselves stammering and trying to act as though you’d been missing. Ryuko maintained a polite smile throughout their entire performance. When they finished, she bid you goodbye. A small sense of amusement and fondness formed in her chest seeing your wide grin as you waved bye. Immediately after your house was out of sight, Ryuko made a quick call to one of her contacts in social services. Relief swelled-up inside her after she was finished, you would be safe soon.

•However, Ryuko’s work wasn’t done yet. She had to be sure you’d be alright until your parents were arrested. She came to pick you up after school, surprising both you and the kids that bullied you. They immediately ran up to her, starting to ask questions and squeal praises as your teacher tried to calm everyone. Ryuko shocked them further when she announced she was here for you. Gently, she outstretched your hand which you happily took. This started a routine of her dropping you off and picking you up from school. Your parents let her do as she pleased because they thought you were finally worth something now that’d you made friends with the pro-hero. You loved spending time with your favourite hero, Ryuko allowed you to be informal with her and took you on fun outings like to an amusement park or restaurant. Sometimes there would be someone who asked questions about your parents, but Ryuko always took you out for a movie after so it was fine.

•Soon, a case was built against your parents and finally, it was the time to act. Your parents were arrested and charged, while you were thrown into confusion, sobbing for them. Ryuko pitied your sadness but this was for the better. Still, you would go into foster care which could be just as bad, of not worse. Ryuko couldn’t condemn you to that, not after you’d been through. So, she decided to adopt you. She could do it quite easily as a high ranking pro-hero with a good reputation. And so it was done, you became her child. You were hesitant at first, but you quickly, and quite happily, accepted her as your new mother. The kids at school stopped picking on you and your teachers started behaving more formally. After all, you were the child of a pro-hero, Ryuko’s child and you would live a life filled with happiness, Ryuko swears it.

yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, implied violence, implied emotional and physical abuse, implied brainwashing, knowledge based on spoilers from the first two episodes of the 2024 series.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor! This is a collaborative piece written with @isuckatwritingsobenice, whom I share a mutual adoration for Violet Evergarden, the anime and titular character who is in my humble opinion, one of the best written female protagonists I have seen in anime.

As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.

For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going for tonight's broadcast :)

Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment and chaos. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades! 

When you had arrived at the hotel with nothing except the clothes on your back and a suitcase that protected your precious Remington typewriter, the Radio Demon would not deny that he was amused to see a sinner who actually saw his advertisement on the television. After all, no one was taking Charlie seriously, and who would? Apparently you did, but for a different reason: you were looking for a job, a purpose. You said so in the interview, and you were willing to learn. When Vagatha asked what would be considered a flaw in your work ethic, you took off your leather gloves and showed her and Charlie  the alloy prosthetics that acted as your new limbs after losing them in the war.

Why you still had them and why your appearance was wholly human, you did not know. Would this be considered a flaw? You were not sure either. You are still learning about modern technology, especially the handheld devices called cell phones. 

Although the staff was in dire need of someone who could advertise the Hazbin Hotel on the Internet, the princess found something you could do and might be adequate at: gardening. More specifically, being the hotel’s groundskeeper. Someone who can maintain the hotel’s outward appearance and make sure the hell-grass or weeds don’t  get too out of control. You stood up from your seat, feet planted together and saluted Charlie, promising that you will do your best in a monotone voice.

The poor dear did get a little flustered from your actions, but Vagatha did not seem to mind, asking you to follow her upstairs so that she could show you your new room and give you the key. Your first day will be tomorrow. 

Oh, this will be fun~! Alastor thought with a wide grin. Someone new to antagonize and watch fall into the fiery pits of failure! Husk was starting to bore him anyway. 

And he was not disappointed. 

He saw you struggle with holding a garden spade, laying down carpets of fresh grass neatly without trying to crush it between your prosthetic limbs, carrying fertilizer and what flowers to plant! These entertaining events happened within the first week of being here. Is he sorry that his shadows purposely swapped the fertilizer bags and replaced the seed bags to plant roses with rat bait? Absolutely not! 

The more chaos that he created, the more entertained he will be. The anticipation to see you crumble from the pressure and expectations of dear Vagatha and Charlie is almost palpable, he couldn’t wait! 

However, you were not someone who gave up as easily as he hoped you would. 

You kept showing up every day at the exact time, and worked in the garden until Niffty had to drag you inside to have lunch. Then you stayed outside for a bit longer, making sure everything was ready for the following day. You even tried to help out in the kitchen, though you were still struggling to properly hold a knife and chop up vegetables for his jambalaya or cracking eggs in a bowl to help Niffty bake a cake at nine o’clock in the evening because she was bored and wanted something sweet. 

You carried heavy crates of liquor for Husk and even massaged his temples when he complained of a headache. When you discreetly switched out the liquor in his booze for water one time he held a grudge against you for pulling that stunt for almost a week. He eventually forgave you by preparing a Shirley Temple on the house after you politely rejected a whiskey on the rocks because you did not drink alcohol. 

Sir Pentious, the wannabe overlord, was utterly fascinated with your prosthetic limbs and had asked you to let him examine them. That comment earned him a low, menacing growl from Vagatha, spear in hand. The Egg Bois seemed to like you well enough that they tried to help you out in the garden when all they really did was make your job a bit harder. You still thanked them anyway. 

Angel Dust tried to take you shopping for a new wardrobe since you always wore the same outfit every day, but his definition of fashion bordered on risque and flaunting his assets. You were not here to flaunt your appearance, you were here to work, but you thanked him anyway. When he came back to the hotel, staggering inside on wobbly legs and his face covered in black-blue bruises, you were the one who caught him and helped him settle on a table as Husk pulled out a first aid kit. You allowed Angel to put all four of his arms around you and cry on your shoulders, carefully placing your skeletal prosthetics around his back. 

How is it that a single sinner could empathize with everyone here except him? 

This singular thought, this curious idea, is what motivated Alastor to find out more about you. And there is no else in Hell who can spill the tea on someone as accurately as his dear friend Rosie. 

A trip to Cannibal Colony was in order~!  So he did go there, proclaiming he’ll be back before dinner and ignoring Vagatha’s cursing as well as the princess trying to calm down her short-tempered lover. 

As it turned out, he had heard about you, it’s just that the topic in question did not interest him at the time. Rosie conjured up some old newspaper clippings, pointing at the image of you fighting against an exorcist in hand-to-hand combat during the Extermination. This article had been written five years ago, and the one before that? Three years ago. It seemed like you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you fought back because that is what your life had been before; surrounded by violence, vanquishing enemy forces when they crossed your path. Yet when you did make an appearance, everyone in Hell clamored for any scraps of information. Anything to find out who is the mysterious sinner who looked like a human and could rip off an exorcist’s head bare-handed. 

Now, you were staying at the hotel trying to put whatever remained of your afterlife together. That is your true purpose and now the Radio Demon knew. 

Alastor thanked Rosie for the information and the company, leaving Cannibal Colony in a merry mood. Everything was in place. Everything made perfect sense now.

If you were looking for a way to be useful in his newest project, he can make that happen. All he needs to do is nudge you in the right direction without Charlie and Vagatha around.

They are adorable when they are taking turns being a guard dog around you, you sweet little darling~. 

Taglist

@chroniccorvus

@imperfectbloodmoon

@doc-tooth

@nixie-writes

@riddle-simp

@tired-of-life-86

@blackmageoffandoms

If you would like to be tagged in future yandere hazbin x reader fics, please comment on this post here. If you do not comment, then you will not be added on the taglist.

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

There was not a hint of surprise in Doran’s features when his brother was told to arrive with a little child in his arms. She must be another daughter of his. Yet that was not the case. The child apparently tried to steal something from the red viper but was caught. Oberyn has taken much interest in her and wanted to bring her to Dorne. 

Oberyn first showed you to Elia who was accompanying him at the time. She immediately fell in love with your cuteness. The sight of her doting on you encouraged Oberyn further to take you with him. They are eager to present you with their home and shower you with all the lavish things they can offer. Elia also convinced Doran to let you stay with them in the sunspear. 

Ellaria and the sand snakes were curious to see you. Ellaria knew you meant a lot to Oberyn because of how often he spoke of you and was willing to accept you into the family. Within such a short time, she grew fond of you. It made Oberyn ecstatic to hear her ask about you. Meanwhile, the sand snakes had varying reactions to their father and aunt bringing a child home. 

Keep reading

the villain deku and toga x hero reader was so good! small question, are deku and toga like the joker reader’s batman?

Firstly, thank you! Secondly, they do function similarly to the Joker in being obsessed with you/having your attention like the Joker is with Batman. However, I wrote Villain!Deku to be more similar to the Riddler, depending on the interpretation, the one I’m basing him off is the intellectual man, who’s ruthless in a calculated way instead of a chaotic way like the Joker. Toga is closer though as she’s based off full-blown villain Harley

Yandere Miguel O’Hara Headcanons

a/n: there are two routes platonic and romantic, which will be bolded and colour-coded like this, please forgive my spanish i am breaking out my high school spanish classes.

tw: yandere themes, possessive, obsessive, and controlling behaviour, potential spoilers, suggestive themes (romantic route), captivity, canonical inaccuracies, implied neglect (platonic route)

•Becoming the hero Arachnid wasn’t something you ever planned on happening. You were just going about your regular, every day life when a radioactive spider bit you. The spider that bit you gave you amazing powers that you utilized to become the amazing, the one and only friendly neighbourhood Arachnid! Then, you were suddenly pulled into another dimension that was almost exactly like yours and discovered that you weren’t the only one of well you after all.

•You, alongside other spider-themed heroes, joined forces against Kingpin in order to return to your home dimensions. However, that wasn’t your last adventure with the multiverse. Your next encounter would occur a few months after your first misadventure. Having finished fighting the Green Goblin, you were ready to end the night there. Then, a portal similar to the one that brought you to Miles’ dimension opened up. Out came a tall, well-muscled Spider-Man and a Spider-Woman

•They introduced themselves as Miguel O’Hara and Jessica Drew and informed of the Spider society they’d formed. You were offered membership by them. Well, by Jessica. Miguel was staying silent. You don’t know why, but you felt as though he was watching you. He was, of course, he was right in front of you, but this felt eerie. Your senses were telling you something was wrong but Jessica was so nice and you really were excited and honoured to be given such an opportunity. So, you take it.

Romantic Route:

•Miguel stared at you intently. He’d been watching you for a while now, observing. You resemblance was uncanny— you looked exactly like his spouse. Not his spouse exactly, but the one the other had. You looked like the partner that Miguel had grown to love alongside his daughter. A variant of them. Although he was initially against you joining, it would be easier to watch you— look out for you if you joined the lobby.

•After your acceptance, Miguel tasked Jessica with guiding you around the lobby. He didn’t trust anyone else and he couldn’t bare to do it himself. He couldn’t handle himself around you. It wasn’t just your appearance that was uncanny, it was everything. You mannerisms, habits, likes, interests, everything. How Miguel yearned for you. Yearned to feel your touch, your kiss. Yearned for the happiness he once knew.

•But that would break the canon, wouldn’t it? The memories of his world, his family fading from existence because he broke the canon. He couldn’t let that happen again. So, he behaved coldly towards you. But as Miguel continued to watch you and interact with you, he started to doubt. You were a variant of his partner, but your dimension didn’t have a variant of Miguel O’Hara. Perhaps, he rationalized, this was canon. Your fates were meant to be intertwined. He needed you and you needed him. That was canon.

•Miguel strikes when you least expect. Spends weeks carefully planning. He stalks you, memorizes your routine to a point. He assigns you a mission, not overly-difficult but not easy. Something to tire you out. With your senses dulled and the weariness from the fight left you susceptible to his attack. Quickly, stealthily and by surprise, he subdued you. His sharp fangs biting into the tender skin of your neck, paralyzing you.

•When you come to, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. Yet there are familiar objects lying around; trinkets and photos that had disappeared. Your spidey-senses were going off the rails and that’s when he came.

“Miguel?”

•He tells you you’re here for your safety and for the safety of your dimension. Swears you’re meant to be with him, that it’s canon. Warns you of the consequences if you break the canon. You stare at him, intaking his audacity. Then, you shriek at him. Call him out on his absolute bull. Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He ignores your screeching and leaves. Obviously, you’re still in shock. You’ll come around.

•Almost a month later, lo and behold, you still haven’t come around to being pliant with your captor. Miguel is a man of many things, but patience is not one. He is so very tired, having to deal with Lyla’s teasing and the other Spider’s bullshit. Is it too much to ask to come home to his loving spouse? Just like he used to.

•Apparently, it is. Seeing as you aren’t his spouse, but someone he locked up, you scream at him. Unholy screeches whenever you see him. Today, Miguel’s had enough. Large hands wrap around you and slam you against the headboard of the bed you’re chained too.

“Enough.” He hisses. “¡Mierda! I won’t hear it. ¿Me entienden? You stay here. If the safety of the multiverse won’t convince then maybe the safety of your aunt will.”

•The moment the vague threat passes over you freeze entirely. You’ve lost almost everyone, everyone but her. Carefully, you suck in air. Large tears brim at the edges of your eyes. as you look Miguel directly in the eyes. His eyes, dark and dangerous, bore back into yours.

“Please Miguel,” you whisper. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry. Don’t hurt her.”

•Miguel softens at your submission. However, he still doesn’t trust you. He pulls himself off you and stalks out, leaving you laying on the bed, dazed. From that day forewords, you become more compliant. You listen to Miguel and don’t fight him. Miguel knows that he can’t keep you locked away forever. People were asking questions. With your ‘good’ behaviour, you’ll be granted more privileges. More freedom, if that’s what you can call it. You’ll never truly be free, trapped under Miguel’s watchful eyes. But you’re able to go into the lobby again. To talk with people, even if you do so bearing Miguel’s marks. You know you can’t escape him, not when he could take away the little you had left, not when he would hunt you down through every universe. For now, you know you can’t escape Miguel’s grip.

Platonic Route:

•When Miguel saw you for the first time, he felt the world stop around him. It was as though there was nobody else but you and him. You, who was the only variant of his dead child that wasn’t truly his. He watched as you swung around, mocking villains and making clever quips. Miguel’s heart ached for you, for himself, for his dead daughter and child. As he watched you, memories of holding his child as they died because of him resurface. Once more, does Miguel feel the bitter sting of grief and loss.

•Oh, how Miguel desires to hold you, to cradle you close and never let go. But he can’t, he won’t. You’re not his child. You’re not the child he failed to protect. No, you’re a child he can protect. Thus, his decision to allow you to join the spider-society, if only to watch over you and protect you. Your family clearly isn’t doing a good job at it. Miguel spends more time than necessary looking after you. Not that he meant to, of course. You were just so vulnerable. You needed guidance. You may have been s superhero but you were also a child.

•Under Miguel’s guidance you thrive. He teaches you proper fighting techniques, improves your web-shooters and other tech you have and acts as the father figure you need. His teaching method is firm yet gentle. Miguel remains stern, however, everyone notices how soft he is with you. Life is good in the lobby. To be honest, sometimes you consider staying forever. Or more accurately, Miguel implies you should.

•Yes, he was originally not going to interfere. But it was you who made the decision to stay, so obviously that meant something. And Miguel wouldn’t lie, whenever you returned to your Earth to fulfill your duties as Arachnid, he could barely think he was so worried. Every villain encounter, every scrape and bruise is another chance to fail to protect his child. Miguel gets more desperate over time. Your time in the lobby is almost exclusively spent with him. Every mission is with him, every meal is with him, almost every moment is spent by Miguel’s side. And honestly? You’re starting to get s little sick of it.

•Not that you were complaining. You’re so grateful for the opportunities Miguel gave you, but he’s so overbearing. Maybe it’s normal, you rationalize, you’re family isn’t very close. Besides, you’ve seen Peter B. Parker with Mayday. Even Miguel isn’t that clingy. Your senses are blaring danger and to get away, but your yearning for love and affection suppress them. You continue to push down your instincts until you can’t. Until you decide to listen to your doubts— only to prove them wrong, of course. However, just your luck, your instincts are proven correct. You discover a goddamn tracker implanted in your arm.

•Finally, everything clicks. Everything Miguel does? Not normal! Just creepy, especially this. Thus, you decide to leave. You dig out your tracker and stitch the wound back up. You leave the tracker where you know Miguel will find it and leave, discarding your portal bracelet. You return to your Earth for the final time, intent on never leaving again.

•When Miguel returns to find your tracker and no trace of you, he goes ballistic. You left, he can’t protect you. You’ll get hurt, you’ll die. Miguel can’t risk losing you. He travels to your Earth in search of you. There, he tracks you down to find you losing badly against the Green Goblin. You’re clutch your ribs, bruised and bloody. The moment he sees you like this, Miguel enters a blazing fury. He attacks the Goblin viciously, pounding him until a sickening crunch is heard and the Goblin’s neck snaps. You collapse, from your injuries and the shock of witnessing Miguel kill the Goblin.

•Your chest seizes, hyperventilating. You can hear your heart beat racing as Miguel turns to you. He watches you panic and slowly paces towards you. You attempt to scoot away, but you can barely move. Miguel’s mask is off. You can see his eyes being filled with the same eerie softness as the day you met. Carefully, he leans down and large hands grasp onto you. You struggle as best you can, squirming despite the pain.

“¡Ay! Cariño.” He admonishes gently. “Be still, you’ll hurt yourself.”

•Regardless of his orders, you continue to squirm. Sighing, Miguel extended his fangs and bit down on your neck. Paralyzed, you fall limp in his arms. Carefully, he maneuvers you so to not hurt you. He cradles you to his chest as he inspects you over.

“We’ll get you checked out when we go to your new room. ¿Estàts bien?”

•Unable to do anything, you lay helpless in Miguel’s arms as he takes you to your new fancy prison cell— or room as he calls it. From there, you’ll be safe. Somewhere only Miguel knows, a place he can be certain he can protect you. Yes, you’ll stay locked away in your gilded cage, guarded by Miguel. Safe from the world, from every threat but him.

Yandere Fae - Temptation

he just wants to know your name, that’s all. he promises.

tw: yandere themes, possessive behaviour, reader is lowkey okay with it, implied murder, unhealthy relationships, stockholm syndrome (?)

“Come now, darling,” he croons, so very sweetly, “it’s just a name. I promise I won’t tell.”

He leans his cheek against your arm, gazing up pleadingly. You sigh as you feel your resolve waver. He— the fae— Lucian, he says his name is but you don’t know if he’s telling the truth.

Fae can’t lie, you’d been told as a child. The people of your town nary spoke of the faekind, save in warning tales. They’d told of weaknesses, of iron and salt. Lies. Falsehoods born from ignorance. Fae could lie, could weave truths of honeyed poison sweeter than any ambrosia. One thing you did know was not to tell one your name. Your grandmother had told you. She was the same woman who warned you of the dangers, who thwarted the ignorant claims of the fellow villagers

“Please.” Lucian all but whines. You can’t help but giggle in amusement. For such a powerful creature, he’s acting as though he were a puppy. “It’s just a name.”

But it’s not just a name. Name’s are powerful. They hold history, stories, one’s very being. So, you’ll refuse him once more. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Lucian tilts his head. The slightest hint of venom tinges his tone. His slit pupils are dilated double their size, like a predator catching sight of its prey. “Tell me your name.”

Lucian’s been persistent in his efforts. Ever since you moved into a cottage deep within the forest. Unable to bear the repetitive, noisy life of your village, you left. He’s been following you ever since you moved in. He’s bound, tethered to the place. To the land. Through magical means you don’t understand. Lucian adores pestering you with questions, and inane conversation, that you’ve grown to enjoy. But above all else, he seems determined to get your name. Not that you plan to give it to him.

He makes a frustrated noise, a pout forming on his lips. “You’re so stubborn.” Lucian complains. “Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Liar, you think fondly, It’s cute, really, the effort he puts in.

Biting your lip, you briefly contemplate your sanity. Should others find themselves in this situation they wouldn’t be as calm. They’d panic. You should panic. You should probably run for the hills. For it’s not his status as a fae that forebodes danger. He’s— Lucian is complex.

The good-natured mask he wears is just that. A mask. One he wears for you. Your relationship with Lucian is multilayered. Surface level, it is a give and take. What he gives and what you take remains unclear. Surface level, you’re companions. But that implies trust. You don’t trust him. You’re smart enough not too.

“I’m heading out to town.” You tell him. “To the market.”

Lucian huffs. He storms off like a petulant child, intelligibly whining and a pout on his face. You roll your eyes. Gathering a basket and pulling on a cloak, you step out of the cottage. The way to town isn’t marked by a path. You memorize trees and large stones. Landmarks. You trek through the woodlands, thoughts of Lucian occupying your mind.

You hold a certain fondness for him. For the little game you two indulge in. It’s an odd affection, a tired, old one. He makes you cook for him, bemoaning your atrocious mortal cuisine as he eats all of it. He follows you around the cottage with seemingly no concept of personal space. He lingers around you, as if he were a ghost and you his haunt. He entertains you. With tall-tales spun from silk. He offers you gifts in the form of odd trinkets, flowers, nuts, sometimes gems.

Lucian perplexes you. Because despite the casualness of your relationship, you’d be a fool to not be aware of the power imbalance in between the two of you. There’s something dark, dangerous. An ancient, primal magic tethering him to the cottage. To you.

You shake off your wonderings as you reach a clearing. Down, to the left is a quaint little town. It’s sparsely populated, everyone knows everyone, at least everyone who inhabits the area. Locals are wary of travellers, yet they are not so foolish to deny potential patrons business. Their market, tavern, and inn are what’s to be expected of a place such as this. It’s sufficient for your needs, though. Far be it for you to complain.

You stop by the market, examining items being sold by the vendors. As you take an apple in hand, trying to determine whether the produce is worth it’s price, a hand reaches by you. Curiously, you sneak a glance to the person it belongs to.

You’re met with the appearance of a rugged, rogue. Weary from his travels, if you’d have to guess. He gives you half-grin half-smirk that makes your insides flutter. Normally, you’d offer him a flirtatious smile. Perhaps he’d ask to take you out for the night, to the tavern. You’d drink sweet mead and suggest stopping at an inn for the night. Spend it together. Alas, the sanctity of your normal ended upon your meeting with Lucian.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he says, voice a rough timbre. It’s so different than Lucian’s smooth, honeyed lilt. You like it. “You ain’t from ‘round here, eh?”

You nimbly step aside, appreciating the view. You should leave, you know the consequences if you stay. “No.” You tell him. “I live a little ways away.”

He smiles at that. A small little grin that’s almost a smirk. What a dangerous thing, he is. He starts chatting you up. You know what he wants from you and you’re quite certain he knows what he wants from you. You should be beyond such inhibitions— but it’s been so very long since you’d indulged in a bit of fun. So you let him take you back to his inn, slip something in his beer so when he’s done and your sated, he’ll slip right off. The moment he does, you slink away, trekking through the woods back home. Most people wouldn’t, scared of the dangers lurking. But the forest knows that the true danger resides within your home, guaranteeing your safety.

The moment you make it back, Lucian appears, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Entertaining night?”

His tone is frigid and cold, almost the same as his usual indifference. But you know him better than that. “Very.” You hum. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

“Yet you’re here with me.” He parrots. The shift in his demeanour is almost imperceptible, a change so subtle it appears meaningless. You watch as he slinks away, the satisfaction of his tone lingering throughout your mind. The affirmation, to both him and you, that you were here. That you came crawling back to him. That the pull, the tether he held on your being remained tight as ever.

That you were—

Not his. You were still your own being. You let out a shaky sigh and head up to bed. You’ve had too much to drink, you tell yourself. The next morn, when you awaken, groggily blinking, something immediately feels off. After living like this— after living with him— for so long, you’ve come to understand to trust your intuition while ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head.

You head down the stairs. Your body is heavy from your hang over. It dulls your senses. You know you need to be on guard, lest Lucian have his way. Speak of the devil, you muse, as he leans on the kitchen island smugly. “Rough night?”

“Don’t.” You warn, grabbing a pot and filling it with water to boil. Lician laughs. His laughter sharp and smooth. “Forgive me, lovely.” He croons. “I do not intend to rouse that temper of yours.”

You eye him suspiciously. Of course, you’re always suspicious in regards to him, but this behaviour is odd. Odder than usual. He usually demands you cook for him, asks for your name, then huffs when you rebuff him. It’s routine and Lucian isn’t one for breaking routine. You rake over his handsome, pointed features. He sports an usual grin. Self-satisfied and almost victorious. Then, you spot a crimson splatter along the underside of his throat.

“Is there something wrong, lovely?” He inquires, tilting his head almost as if to show you the blood stained on his neck.

Don’t give in. Don’t pay attention to it. You learned early on giving in only worsens his behaviour. “No.” You answer firmly. You avoid his question, evasive and ignorant. Your ignorance serves as a shield. “I ought to make something, barely ate yesterday.”

Lucian’s eyes flicker with both annoyance and pleasure. “Make me some too.” He orders, before sauntering off.

It sends a shiver down your spine, your compliance. Barely able to deny him, yet unable to give into him. It irks him. It also pleases him. It’s a game between the two of you. One neither of you can quit. You tow the line each time, out of selfishness. The desire to be free. To be as it was. It ends in his possessive fits, with blood shed, staining your hands crimson. Yet you continue. His attention is intoxicating. As addicting as mead. It drives you mad, tantalizes you, taunts you. But you don’t give in fully. Can’t. At least, not yet.

“Come now, lovely. I know you wish to fall into temptation with me.”

parental yandere wizard becoming attached to (unwilling/unknowing) apprentice reader and deciding to keep them as their little baby <3

I hope this is good!!

TW: Kidnapping, parental yandere, descriptions of blood/violence, infantilization

...

You've always liked exploring the forest, it was different to most forests, almost straight out of a storybook. The trees were twisted with age, the flowers vibrantly bright and always in bloom no matter the time of year.

The air felt alive here. Magical. It felt more like home than your actual home.

Of course, there were some dangerous creatures that lurked the forest's depths, but you'd never ventured far enough to come across one before.

It seems that your biggest fear should've always been your own kind; humans. You always thought your demise would come from a hungry wolf or poisonous plants, but in reality?

It was a hunter's trap that crunched down on your ankle while you were daydreaming. A bear trap, the metal jaws clamping shut, crushing your bones and drawing blood.

The scream that rips itself out of your throat is loud enough to scare birds out of the surrounding trees.

Pain shoots up your leg, hot and cold at once, making it throb with each frantic heartbeat. You grip the jaws of the trap, your fingers scrabbling against the rusted iron until they're raw, trying to pry them open.

You realize with horror no one will find you out here.

Well, that's what you think, when suddenly the sound of quick footsteps and leaves crunching underfoot reach your ears. The steps slow, stop, and then...

"Oh my goodness!" a voice exclaims with dismay. Despite the panicked tone, their voice sounds soft and gentle.

You lift your head and are met with a pair of worried green eyes, wide behind thin spectacles. Their frame isn't too much taller than your own, and they have messy hair and freckles.

Even though their appearance is somewhat youthful, you can tell they're somewhere in their early forties.

"It's alright," they say, crouching next to you. "It'll all be alright, okay, sweetheart?"

Their voice is still soft, almost like someone talking to a frightened child. And, in this situation, you probably look like a frightened child, curled in on yourself and whimpering from the pain shooting up your ankle.

The stranger touches the metal gently and mutters something beneath their breath; the trap pops open so quickly that you squeak. The relief on your ankle is immediate, until you try to move it and another pained sob tumbles out of you.

You glance up at your savior who has removed their cloak, bunching it up in their hands.

"Just hold still, dearest. I know it hurts," they murmur softly, reaching forward to wrap it around your foot with great care, supporting your ankle the best they can. They give you a wobbly smile. "I'm going to take you home, okay? So I can help fix you right up."

Without their cloak, you notice they're covered in faded scars and marks.

Before you can open your mouth to ask, however, you're suddenly lifted into their arms with great strength, as if you weighed nothing more than a small toddler.

It startles you enough that you cling onto the front of their blouse.

"Careful, careful," they coo, giving you another quick smile before setting off, keeping your body pressed against theirs. You bury your face in the fabric of their shirt without thinking, sniffling quietly, still trying to ignore the pain radiating up your leg. "I'm so lucky to have found you... it's like my prayers have been answered! Maybe I am blessed, after all..."

They sound weirdly happy about this all, but you're in too much pain to really care.

And so you relax against your savior and allow yourself to drift off into a restless slumber.

...

When you wake up, you find yourself lying comfortably on a soft bed with warm blankets wrapped around you.

Your ankle isn't throbbing anymore; instead, you feel nothing more than a slight ache, now. You shift around until you're propped up on your elbows and can see your bandaged ankle resting atop a pillow.

You notice you've been changed into pastel pajamas which feel soft and clean against your skin.

Footsteps reach your ears, and you lift your head to watch as a stranger steps through the doorway, wearing that familiar kind smile you remember.

It was the same one they wore while they were scooping you up in their arms...

They hold two steaming mugs, each a dark red color. You recognize them as the person who saved you from that hunter's trap, so you allow yourself to relax back against the pillows again.

When you had first caught sight of them, you weren't sure whether or not they'd planned to bring you harm, but they seemed too sweet to mean any.

"I made you some hot chocolate," they say, walking towards the bed and setting the mug down beside you. They sit down in a chair situated next to the bedside with their own hot chocolate, blowing gently on the steam. "No one ever ventures out here. Were you lost?"

"N-No," you say, hating the way your voice quivers slightly. You clear your throat and reach for your own cup. "I live in the village closest to the forest. I... I was exploring when I stumbled across a bear trap. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Their gaze becomes sharper, but not to you specifically. "Ah. Those damn hunters." Then, they frown. "Sorry for my language."

You huff a laugh. "'Damn'? I've said far worse, I'd hardly call that a curse word." At the look they send you, you quickly say, "Maybe I look younger than I actually am. I'm not a kid."

Their smile returns. "Oh, love. If that's what you want to tell yourself."

You frown at their cryptic statement, staring at them suspiciously over the rim of your cup. You take a tentative sip, the drink sweet and creamy on your tongue, much better than the ones from the market.

"Well, whatever. I still appreciate your help. I would've bled to death out there without you. I had no idea there was anyone living out here." You blink slowly at them and continue, "So, um... what's your name?"

They grin. "Solaris, and I'm glad I could be of assistance. After all, I couldn't just leave you out there, crying like that. Positively shattered my heart!" They sigh dramatically, clutching at their chest. "Now, you have to heal. I already applied medicine to your ankle. All you need now is rest, sunshine."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Sorry, but... how long will it take to heal? I have somewhere to be, so..."

Solaris glances over at you with an arched brow. Their lips are pressed in a thin line, though it doesn't seem as if they're mad or upset. "Well..." They pause to contemplate on something. "I'll be honest with you. I've been lonely. For so long I've craved not only an apprentice of my own, but my own baby, as well. Just before you showed up, I was pleading to whatever Gods above to grant me this wish. And then..." Solaris smiles. "There you were! Like an angel fallen from the sky. Like my very own angel."

You're quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly at them. "...And that means what, exactly?"

"It means... I'll keep you."

You let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, okay, funny joke..."

"Oh, I'm not joking," they interrupt, turning to meet your stare. They don't hold that usual soft smile anymore. Instead, their expression has hardened, their lips now pursed in a thin line.

You swallow thickly at the sudden change, gripping your cup tighter than before. "But I can't stay. I have family and friends that will be worried about me."

"They have each other, don't they? Meanwhile I have no one..." Once again, they sigh dramatically. This time it makes you flinch. "All I have is my research and magic, and that gets painfully lonely."

"M-Magic?" you repeat, startled.

"Yes. An experienced one, in fact. Very skilled with potions and spells. Why do you think your wounds healed so quickly?" Their mouth twitches into a faint smirk. "Now I suppose you understand why trying to run would be useless. Besides, Mama just wants their precious baby safe and healthy..."

Your nose scrunches. Mama...?

"Um... sorry, but... no, thanks." You stumble out of bed, and are shocked to feel only a mild ache in your leg, the wound no longer bleeding, the skin cleanly stitched together. You limp towards the door as quickly as you can, but Solaris snaps their fingers and the pain is back, but five times worse than before. You fall against the floor with a cry.

"Now why did you make me do that?" Solaris shakes their head.

"No!" you snap. "You're insane. You aren't my mom!"

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to a more masculine term—"

"How does 'asshole' sound?" you suggest dryly, using the nearby dresser to haul yourself onto your feet. The wood feels smooth against your clammy palms.

They hum lowly. "I'd like an apology, please. You're being a brat, and you haven't even spent a full day here yet." You only glare, which gets another long sigh out of them. "Fine. I suppose we'll do this the hard way."

The pain increases tenfold, and you nearly collapse again with a choked sob. Suddenly, the weight on your legs feels unbearable; even the task of breathing seems painful, each breath sending another sharp ache down your spine. A whimper escapes you.

You hate the tears stinging at your eyes, but the hurt is so bad that it takes every ounce of concentration not to curl up and scream.

"Apologize, sweetheart," Solaris coaxes softly. "No reason to act like such a stubborn brat. I don't like doing this to you, you're forcing my hand."

A tremble racks through your body as you sink down to your knees. "I'm sorry," you gasp, unable to bear it any longer. "Please, I'm sorry—stop!"

Finally, it ceases. The throbbing dulls to a light pressure once again.

With it, the tension drains from your muscles, and you slump backwards against the dresser.

You hug your knees to your chest and shiver when Solaris reaches forward to pull you onto their lap, smoothing down the locks of hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

"See?" they whisper, pressing their lips against your temple. "If you'd only listened to mama like a good child... but I forgive you, my love. I always will. Now let's get you back in bed—it looks like you're going to sleep next to Mama tonight."

They lift you into their arms and tuck you beneath the covers, planting another kiss on top of your forehead. It seems they won't be leaving; the bed dips underneath their weight while they snuggle up beside you, humming a quiet tune underneath their breath.

You freeze momentarily before relaxing, letting them draw patterns along your arm, up and down and up again, the motions soothing enough that you soon find yourself slipping into slumber.

"There we go," Solaris says. "That's much better, hm? Goodnight, baby."

...

The next morning greets you with the smell of something good. Your stomach rumbles quietly from underneath the blankets.

You yawn, sitting up straighter in bed, wincing slightly at the stiffness in your leg. Although your wounds had closed, your leg was still wrapped in bandages to help ease the soreness away. You swing your legs off of the mattress and lower them down onto the cool wooden flooring below.

As soon as you're able to stand steadily, you walk out of your bedroom and wander until you stumble across the kitchen; you see Solaris bustling around the room, grabbing silverware and plates for your breakfast.

They turn and beam, seeing you standing awkwardly by the entrance.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Solaris says cheerfully. "Did Mama's little star sleep well?"

Star? That's a new one...

You merely hum instead, moving to sit in the nearest chair available. In front of you is a plate of pancakes already.

You glance back up to look at Solaris, who's watching you carefully. Only when they give you a smile and gesture for you to start eating do you grab your fork and dig in, only because you're starving. You take large gulps of water too.

"Slow down, slow down, sweetie! You'll get sick!" Solaris admonishes. Their brows furrow. "My goodness, when was the last time you had a proper meal?"

You ignore the question, continuing to scarf down your food and avoiding their eyes.

You can see them staring you down out of your peripherals.

It isn't long until you finish up your plate and you scoot out of the chair, ready to make a break for your room—until you're caught by a firm hand grasping the collar of your shirt.

The back of your throat makes an embarrassing noise, which draws a warm chuckle from Solaris's end. Your ears grow hot. Stupid.

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't be naughty," they chide, wagging a finger in front of your face. "Mama's gotta re-bandage your injury."

You scowl at them but follow nonetheless. Better to remain obedient for now.

They lead you through a narrow hall and open a pair of wide, heavy oak doors. Inside lies a study filled to the brim with books, all different sizes and colors, organized neatly on tall bookshelves lining the wall.

A round mahogany table sits at the center of the room, littered with strange gadgets and bubbling potions.

"This is where I study," Solaris explains. They motion over to a couch. "Why don't you lie down right here for Mama, sweetie? It won't take very long. Promise."

Once again, you oblige, albeit reluctantly. You plop down on the soft cushions and place both of your legs across them.

Solaris bends down to inspect the stitches before gingerly peeling the old wrappings off, tossing the bandages away into the trash bin. You peer down to examine the wounds yourself.

They're clean-cut and sewn together carefully. Almost professionally, you note.

"Will they leave scars?" you ask.

Solaris blinks. "Most likely. I've got magic, but that doesn't mean it's unlimited." They seem almost apologetic as they gently press around the irritated skin. "The wounds should stay sealed up so long as you don't irritate them."

After adding some more ointment, they wrap your ankle up anew. Next they check on your hands, brushing feather-light touches against the raw skin.

"I can get rid of these scrapes with a spell. Will that be okay, sweet pea?"

"It's fine, I guess," you say, pulling a face. "Won't hurt, will it?"

"Not at all. Just a small tickle, is all." Before you can add anything else, Solaris waves a hand over your palms, muttering a chant beneath their breath—and within seconds, your hands begin to tingle.

The sensation lasts barely half a minute and fades as quick as it appeared. You wiggle your fingers and gawk at how smooth and free of blemishes your skin has become.

"How did you become a wizard?" you ask them curiously.

"Hm..." They scratch their chin, clearly thinking their answer over. "Well, I grew up studying the craft ever since I was a tiny thing. My father practiced dark magic and my mother was a white witch. After their passing, I wanted to learn everything I could about what they studied and became obsessed with spells and research... But that was many, many years ago."

"Years ago?" you echo. "How old are you? You look fairly young."

Solaris lets out a laugh, patting the top of your head in fondness. "Flatterer! You sure know how to win people's hearts." They wipe imaginary sweat off their brow before answering, "Magic has slowed my aging down quite a bit. I'm actually around a hundred."

"Oh," is all you manage to utter, unable to conjure up another response. A part of you isn't entirely surprised by the fact, seeing how far advanced their abilities are.

Before either of you can speak again, Solaris cups both of your cheeks. "And you can age slower too. With me, here! Isn't that wonderful? I could even make you younger than what you are now, if you'd like. Not that it'd matter either way, since you're my baby, regardless."

You suppress the shiver trying to run down your spine. "The only thing I'd ever want from you is to take me home."

Your reply makes them frown deeply. "Now why would I want to do that? This is your new home, right here with me. And when you adjust, we can decorate your room however you want!"

"I don't want a new room," you protest. "I don't want a new home. And I especially don't want a new parent."

"You may not think so now," they reply. "But you'll warm up to it soon enough. I have faith in you, buttercup. You'll see."

The words send dread shooting down your spine.

...

After breakfast, Solaris gives you the grand tour.

"There isn't much to see, really," they admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. "My study is full of chemicals, so you can't be allowed in there alone. Even when you do agree to be my apprentice."

You look out the nearby window, and realize how high up you are in the stone tower.

Below you, the village you used to live in is visible beyond the forest; it looks like miniature buildings now, the villagers themselves nothing more than ants milling about.

"This used to be a watch tower. Hundreds of years old, mind you. I renovated it myself with a little magic and a lot of elbow grease. You should've seen the place beforehand—it was practically dilapidated!" Their cheerful chatter trails off after that, allowing you to gaze out the window once more. Then they say, in a gentler tone, "Is your old home somewhere down there? That must've been a long walk to get so deep into the woods."

"Mhm," you murmur, tracing circles against the dusty glass with your fingertips.

"Well, I think that's just about everything." Solaris pauses. "We can discuss an apprenticeship later. For now, why don't you read a book from the library downstairs? Any one you wish." When you frown, they lean forward to plant a kiss on top of your forehead. "Or maybe you'd prefer being rocked and read to in Mama's arms?"

"No," you grit out between clenched teeth. You huff and cross your arms over your chest petulantly.

They smile. "I figured. Go on, then."

You move to exit the room.

...

Hours pass, and you're painfully bored.

There wasn't anything interesting in the library, and you're too anxious about touching anything in the study. Your only form of entertainment at the moment are the birds tweeting outside, along with the clouds floating by lazily overhead.

It would almost be peaceful if you weren't stuck here against your will. If you could only escape—then, you wouldn't have to deal with Solaris's coddling any longer.

Thinking about it, your face scrunches up.

You had been on the receiving end of plenty of hugs today, as well as kisses and a good portion of baby talk.

Each encounter left a sour taste lingering on the back of your tongue.

You can't take this any longer. You rip off both of the long curtains to the side of the window, and tie them together tightly, braiding them into a rope-like length of fabric.

Thankfully, Solaris is preoccupied somewhere else, giving you plenty of time to set things up.

Your knot-tying skills are less than subpar, but you make do. Once secured, you throw the makeshift rope outside and tug on it a few times for safety purposes.

With an audible gulp, you slowly shimmy down, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking down below. Thankfully, the ground reaches you before anything bad can happen. When your feet touch the grass, relief floods your veins in one dizzying rush.

Freedom is finally in sight. There's no sign of Solaris anywhere.

You're about to sprint away from the watch tower as fast as possible, when suddenly an invisible force renders you completely immobile.

"Sneaky, sneaky," comes a familiar voice behind you.

When you don't respond, Solaris clicks their tongue. They snap their fingers once, removing the invisible chains around your body.

They pick you up and rest you against their hip while ascending up the stairs. "Oh dear. Now look what we've done—you ripped poor Mama's favorite curtains..."

You wriggle desperately in their grasp. "Let me go!"

"Why?" they say, sounding genuinely confused. "I made you those cute clothes. I fed you. Why run away? Do you enjoy breaking my heart?" There's a brief pause while they push open a door to a bedroom and place you inside. "Maybe a night alone in here will make you reconsider your choices."

Before you can argue or defend yourself, Solaris closes the door, and you hear the tell-tale jiggling of keys and turning of locks on the other side.

You pull at the knob and pound your fists on the wood repeatedly, until your hands sting and throb with a dull pain.

Then, the exhaustion settles deep in your bones and you fall asleep on the bed.