#yandere Luna

[peoplesgraves]

Yandere Hex Girls Headcanons

•You’d been brought to one of their concerts by your favorite gang. You manage to get separated from them after the show, pulled away by the quickly leaving mob. The Hex girls find you confused and lost after the show, taking you to their dressing room to wait for your friends.

•Luna notices you first. Unlike her band mates she actually noticed you during the concert. She was always a little more observant than the others so of course she notices the mystery crew and their adorable new member. She’s the least overbearing by far. She’s very in tune with you right from the start and is able to recognize and convince the girls when you need space. Luna treats you mostly like a kitten they just brought home. All soft words and softer actions, she just wants you to feel safe.

•Thorn would notice you next. She’d see you in the empty room, like a shark senses blood. All at once she’s by your side lulling you into a false sense of security and exploiting your unease to draw you into her. Shes hanging all over you for the rest of the night, red lips teasing and taunting until your head spins. Thorn loves to play with you, able to be patient and hide her darker intentions until you’re just as obsessed as she is. Definitely sits on your lap at some point.

•Dusk doesn’t really notice you until she’s literally a few feet from you. But when she notices you she really notices you. She burns every pore on your face into her brain. Misses most of what you say because she’s daydreaming about what your lips would feel like. She’s immediately whipped for you literally the definition of being super soft for one person. Definitely shows off for you. As soon as you’re settled on the dressing room couch, she’s flexing her drummer arms. Melts at any little act of affection from you. Dusk is a total giver and takes pride in always loving you more than you love her.

[siswritesyanderes]

What about a Yandere Luna Lovegood with a no-nonsense s/o? "Luna, how'd you know he was even talking to me?" "Oh, the nargles told me... They're quite ugly around him, seem to take after their owner..." "Luna... You've used nargles as an excuse to threaten seven people by now. It's getting old."

(I love this. Why have I never thought of this?)

You can’t really blame her. Well, you can, and you do, but you can at least understand how things escalated: She was lonely, and you were polite. “Kind”, as she put it, but you think “polite” is a more impartial assessment.

When you first overheard the other students making fun of her, you defended her. But of course you did; they were being ridiculous and ruining the learning environment noticeably more than her weirdness ever did. And when they were gone, you exchanged a few polite words with her and carried on.

And she carried on with you.

You didn’t mind. You were glad to be of help, keeping the bullies away. At any rate, she really wasn’t nearly as annoying as people made her out to be; her airy, unobtrusive presence was honestly enjoyable. And it was sort of flattering to have someone rush to walk at your side; someone eager to keep up with you even in the busy hallways, catching onto your robe at times; someone who ate faster when she saw you were almost done (even though at this point you always waited for her to finish her meal before leaving the Great Hall).

Maybe you were a little lonely, too.

Eventually, you started conversing with one another, when the two of you were in the Library or at meals. You were somewhat impressed by the fact that, despite her whimsical demeanor, she had quite a candid streak when it came to conversation. Frank, even. She was easy to talk to. Not just easy- rewarding. Everything you said to her came with positive reinforcement. You could ask her if she understood the Charms assignment, and she would smile as if your words had singlehandedly uninvented sadness.

Uncharacteristically, it took you a while to notice something that didn’t quite make sense:

���How do you find me after all of my classes?” you asked her one day. Not all of your classes were taken with her, but still she always managed to walk with you between them.

She smiled absently and hummed a one-note song. “The nargles tell me where you are all the time.”

“Nargles, Luna?”

“Oh, yes.” Her eyes were on her hands, which were tracing invisible patterns on the table in front of her. Normally, when nargles (or whatever other creatures) came into conversation, she made direct eye contact, her tone earnest and excited. This distractedness bordering on evasion was new.

“I don’t believe you,” you said straightforwardly.

She sighed. “Most people don’t. That’s okay though.”

“You know what I mean; I’m not saying that I don’t believe nargles are real-”

“But you don’t, though.”

“I have no opinion on the subject. I’m saying that I don’t believe you’re telling the truth about how you find me.”

She smiled brightly, and now her eyes met yours. “You don’t have to believe me. You’re already the best friend I’ve ever had; trusting me might just gild the lily and make me too happy. And then where would we be?”

You were not inclined to continue the conversation.

Luna just seemed elated that you hadn’t rejected the title “friend”.

It was fine being Luna’s friend, although you worried it had adverse effects on your ability to socialize with other people. You joined a club for one of your interests, just to feel like you regularly spoke to someone other than her, which was apparently not the best of moves.

One day, Luna trotted up to you with a serene expression. “I have a gift for you,” she said.

“What is it?” If you were slightly wary, it was only because of course you were.

She held up a handful of brown hair. “I found this.”

“Found it where?”

“The nargles gave it to me. They said it’s from a boy called Orville…or Oswald…or Orson…something like that…And they said he won’t be going to your club meetings anymore.”

You were sure your expression was a delightful mix of stern, exasperated, and horrified. After two full seconds, you blinked, and the first thing you said was, “Do not give me human hair!”

“Alright.” She threw the ball of hair over her shoulder. “Just as well; I don’t think he washed it very thoroughly. Although they say the more hair you keep, the more whizmurgoblins you attract; that’s why I keep mine so long-”

“Luna,” you interrupted. “What happened to Osmond?”

“Oh, that was his name! Normally I’m not nearly that close.”

“Luna.”

“I told you, it was the nargles. You can ask again, but I’ll say the same thing. I’ve read that friends often have the same conversations over again, so maybe it could be fun.”

(You try to ask Osmond what happened, but he avoids you like the plague, and all of his friends either seem confused or give you dirty looks.)

Next time, she skipped up to you with a handful of short, pale sticks. “Another gift from the nargles!” she announced cheerfully.

“Merlin’s trousers, Luna. What are those?”

“Kimberly Penhallow���s finger bones; apparently she’s in the Hospital Wing regrowing them. And she’s quit the club as well. The nargles told me.”

“The nargles told you.”

“Oh yes.”

“Luna, are you attacking my club members?”

“I think the nargles might be. They’re awfully territorial, you know. But a lot of things are. When you value something or someone quite a lot, it makes sense to want them to be just yours.” (You suddenly recalled how your table-mate at Potions had up and moved tables one day for seemingly no reason. You didn’t even have Potions at the same time as Luna; how did she know?) “Especially when everyone else takes them for granted. Watching people fail to appreciate someone- or something -truly magnificent can be upsetting, I imagine.” She slipped her arm around yours to keep from being parted by the crowd. “But I don’t always know what the nargles are thinking.”

You didn’t shake her off, but you sighed. “Do not give me human bones,” you said.

Luna tossed the bones over her shoulder. Looking back, you saw that they had landed inside a passing student’s bag. “No more hair, no more bones.”

“Or blood or organs,” you added, because if she ambled up to you tomorrow and handed you eyeballs, you were going to be studying at Beauxbatons next year.

“No hair, bones, blood, or organs. Anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

The two of you exited into the bright sunlight of the Clock Tower Courtyard, now. The area wasn’t as densely populated, but Luna still walked as close to you as if it was. As if she might lose you.

“Can I tell you that I love you?” she asked lightly.

“No,” you said, because this was such a mad situation and she was still holding onto your arm.

“Okay,” was her easy reply.

Once you had had a night’s sleep and processed the facts of the matter, you were more exasperated than anything.

“I’ve quit the club,” you snapped at her, unprompted, the next day. “Alright?”

“I’ll have to tell the nargles,” she said, with an adoring smile. “Hopefully, I get to them in time; I already found three of Gregory Brown’s fingernails, and I suspect they’re behind it.” She held out the fingernails in her palm, looking almost as if she hoped you would be proud of her. Oh Merlin, they weren’t just clippings.

“Are fingernails not made from skin, Luna? Skin is an organ. I said no organs.”

“As a bodily structure, they’re more analogous to horns or hooves than anything. You don’t want nails either?”

You ran a hand over your face. “Why have I not reported you to Flitwick?”

“Because my attention makes you feel good about yourself, and you’ve gotten used to that.”

“You’ve been manipulating me.”

“You say ‘manipulating’ like it’s a bad thing, but the term itself is neutral. I take care of you, is all. Like you take care of me. We need each other.” She did a spin as the two of you descended a great grassy hill on the school grounds. Her face upturned to look at the sky and clouds for a second, but then her gaze returned to you as if she couldn’t help herself. She erased the distance that had been made between the two of you by her spin, both of her hands going to grip your robes even though this was the grounds and there was nobody within ten meters of either of you.

You sat by the water and did your Herbology homework: Write down ten species of plant found by the Black Lake. She wove weeds into your hair as you worked, then around your ankle, then your wrist. You glanced up from your writing, once, and saw that her lips were moving.

“Are you casting something?”

“Just talking to the nargles,” she soothed. “You can finish your work.”

Against your better judgement, you did, (in lieu of pursuing the topic) and once you were able to set your work aside, you leaned back and took in the lovely day.

Surprisingly, Luna did not lean back, but rather remained upright and cross-legged, at most seeming to take this new angle as an opportunity to stare at you full-on. Does she ever blink?

“Can I tell you that I love you?” she asked again.

“No,” you told her once more.

She seemed to ponder this, shifting position to sit on her heels. “I want to make you feel good things,” she said. “Being with you makes me feel really good, and sometimes it seems like I can never make you feel as good as you make me feel.” She finally lowered herself to the grass, then, on her stomach instead of her back, and she was resting along your side but still staring up into your face. Her nose was enfolded in your robes, and you had a suspicion that she was deliberately smelling you. “Tell me how to make you feel good things, and I’ll do it.”

For some reason, despite her unaggressive manner of speaking, this felt like a challenge; as if this was your one chance to prove that you knew what you wanted. As if your response now determined whether or not you would keep the already-tenuous control you had over her horrifying actions.

“Stop attacking people,” you said straightforwardly. “I would feel better if you didn’t do that anymore.”

She sighed, as if disappointed by your response, which did not bode well. “I don’t think you’re being quite honest with yourself, but I will talk to the nargles about it.”

“Luna, just put a stop to it. For me, alright? Could you do it for me?”

She sat up, and her eyes were wide and so focused that you felt pinned like a butterfly. “I could do anything for you,” she said, her hands going to frame your face and her thumbs massaging your temples. She sat down on your chest and leaned her face a bit closer to yours, but not yet intimately close. “Maybe sometimes it will be what you need instead of what you want, but I’d do anything for you.”