#yandere concepts

[urprettylildoe]

Can’t the brothers just share me? 😭

As the saying goes, “2 is better than 1”

Also think long term, if we are old people I’m gonna be left all alone if the 1 man dies on me. Who’ll take care of me then and be my companion?

Hmmmm, you might be right.

This is the tiny drabble I made before.

𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝓂ℴ𝓇ℯ, 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂ℯ𝓇𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓇

(Slight violence ahead)

The arena was awfully empty to your dismay, but the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Two men who looked eerily similar stared into their same emerald coloured eyes. But it was not eerie, because they were twins. If they didn't look so alike, you wouldn't assume they were if they were glaring with such intensity.

Milo licked his gleaming teeth as he gazed at his brother, "Y'know," he started, suddenly finding the sword in his hand so interesting. "It is such an honour to die at the hands of my dear brother."

His smile widened in sick amusement, "Blood does run thicker than water, after all."

It was Mason's turn to hum, but in a lower, more thoughtful tone. "Indeed, it does. Though I will miss you, something tells me the prize at the end will overcome any sort of despair in my heart." Both of their eyes turned to you and you practically feel the weight of their gazes.

"Bold of you to assume that you're going home with her tonight, brother dear."

You thought it was funny how Mason said he had a heart. They couldn't. How could they when they were so cool about the fact that they were going to battle to literal death?

And the reason? Your love.

As if they would earn your affection through brutal violence. But then again, when did they ever care about your opinion? Certainly not when they tied you to a chair overlooking the arena, like a doll at a festival stand, waiting to be picked by the lucky winner of that night.

The more mischevious of the two then turned to you, blowing you a mocking kiss. "You doing good up there, baby? Hope the chair's to your liking. We got you the best view."

"You are sick," you hissed harshly, earning a laugh out of him.

He wiped a tear from his eye then grinned, "Oh, my darling, that makes me want to go up there and show you how much I-"

"Milo," Mason warned. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We need to earn her."

His lively brother rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, "Oh, how could I forget?" He snickered as he eyed his quiet sibling, "but y'know, Mason, you could back out now and avoid the trouble."

Mason knew Milo like the back of his hand; he was already used to the tricks. "And miss out on the fun of watching you lose? Never."

Even though Milo was at the same age as Mason, he behaved like a spoiled younger child (he was only younger by 1 minute, in his defence!). He huffed, brows knitting together as he changed the subject, "Moving on, we should really get started. Wouldn't want our darling to get bored in the wait." An obnoxious wink was sent your way.

"We really should, brother." Mason bowed, making his brother follow suite.

Then the game began.

And oh boy was it stressful.

It was awful, to say the least. Blood was splattering everywhere, bruises blossoming on their skin. Yet knowing their excitement and ego, you knew neither would back down.

Your arms clenched the armrests as you tried to contain the horror in your expression. This was a nightmare.

Milo was a time-ticking bomb high on adrenaline — his actions were immediate and without any hesitation that you could never know what was coming. The definition of think before you speak.

Mason, on the other hand, worked smarter and not harder. He assessed, then used as little energy as possible to dodge his brother's attacks.

They were both opposites, but equally powerful.

Digging his knees into Mason's chest, Milo taunted cruelly, "give up yet, brother dearest?"

The other closed his eyes and feigned pain, before flipping his brother down underneath him. "Never." With arms caging his hrother, you thought that the match would end like every other time. Yet, it didn't.

...though weirdly enough, it didn't continue either.

"Say," Mason pondered, voice oozing with sarcasm. "What do you say we...share?"

Milo sat up, eyes too wide for surprise. "Hmm, share?" His amused eyes flickered to yours, before exclaiming: "that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Then, it dawned on you that this was all cultivated, practised. Neither were meant to die, but to watch your hopes go down further down the drain.

This. was. scripted.

"Doesn't it?" Mason mused, standing up with his brother, who skipped over to you like an eager puppy. Though, he opted for slow, measured steps that would take time but inevitably find you.

Once they both arrived at your sides, Milo placed a hand on your thrashing shoulder and purred, "shouldn't you be happy? Neither of us will die."

Mason's lips twitched into a small, frightening smile, "that's right, babe. We're going to be here for you. We have shared a womb, so why not a girl?"

The other's laughter echoed in your ear, "he's got a point. The more, the merrier."

And then they both kissed your cheeks.

♡

@urprettylildoe

[suiana]

yandere! mr crawling who is super duper clingy and never wants to let you go ☹️ he'll actually sob and cry if you ever as much as leave him alone for just a second. what do you mean you need to leave him??? no you don't! if it's something you can't do with him, you don't need to do it at all!

yandere! mr crawling who will unintentionally emotionally manipulate you. he'll cry and ask if you hate him, begging you to stop trying to leave or he'll be devastated. it's not his fault, he can't help it! he just gets so emotional when it comes to you... please never leave his side, okay?

yandere! mr crawling who thinks you're the absolute cutest and most perfect thing ever! okay, so what if you tried to kill several people?? you can do no wrong in his eyes ❤️ if you wanted to kill them, then they definitely deserved it!

yandere! mr crawling who gets you things that you like. oh you like that crowbar? here's like 5 more of them! :333 do you like them? yes? ok praise him please! he loves getting praised byyou. oh! oh! pat him too! he absolutely loves it when you run your hands through his hair and ruffle him >___< it makes him feel so wanted and loved by you.

yandere! mr crawling who just wants to be loved by you. please don't raise your voice at him, and definitely don't hate him ☹️ he'll be cute for you! you don't like scary things? he's trying to find ways to make himself less scary, all for you. just don't push him away. please.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Story Idea #29:

Yandere ex husband! x ex wife! reader:

Darling(you) left her yandere husband after he kept her kidnapped at home and divorced him while she was pregnant (unbeknownst to him). He doesn't want to let her go and after many lawsuits and restraining orders, she manages to slip under his radar. The ex-husband doesn't give up and doesn't want to let her go, but it takes him years to track her down (because she disappeared from social media and changed her name) and when he finally finds her seven years later, he discovers her picking up her seven-year-old son from school. The little boy happens to turn around and upon seeing the yandere ex-husband (and unbeknownst to him, his father), he innocently asks his mother: "Mommy, why is that weird man following us?"

That's when Darling realizes she's been found again and runs home with her son. The yandere ex-husband can't believe the resemblance between him and that child, and after doing a couple of calculations about the last night he spent with Darling (exactly six years ago) he starts to think about the possibility that that child is his son/daughter. A long time passes and when the yandere ex-husband finally manages to kidnap them both, he tries to approach his son but he yells at him:

"You're not my dad!, i don't need you!, get off me you weirdo!. Let mommy go!" Your son scream angrily at his father, who is surprised.

Looking at your son, you knew he was right. Your ex-husband didn't know how to react to seeing your son defending you.

Yes, your little boy adored you.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Cat Villain! Reader: Since I’m the spiritual successor to CatWoman does that mean I’m morally obligated to do “the kinky sex” with whoever becomes the next Batperson.

The batboys and girls at each other’s throats over one of Bruce’s spare cowls: Yes.

[darkestspring]

Yandere Conquerors ( Visenya / Aegon / Rhaenys) and third wife reader.

"I don't need a third wife." Was the words Aegon once said, and never once had he thought that he'd regret speaking those words.

Not until he met you. You. You. Lovely you.

You were Torrhen Stark's eldest child, a lovely thing that had both beauty and brains, not to mention your inclination for spoiling your direwolf, loving cooing at it as you went off to hunt with the beastly thing.

Aegon had never felt himself want for something so much, not since the conquest began. He wanted you, so desperately. he wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and hear you giggle as he devoured you whole.

He glanced towards his sisters who were both stuck staring at you, not a single trace of envy or jealousy on their face. Rhaenys' cheeks were flushed red, not from the cold Aegon assumes, and Visenya's eyes were filled with a look of utter fondness, which was rare. Visenya hated people more than she liked them.

You stood there, laughing as you threw balls of snow between you and your brother, Brandon.

A loud laugh left you, happiness making your eyes light up as the snow started to drip off of you as it turned into water. "No fair! I wasn't expecting it!" You pouted at your brother.

Brandon laughed, "That is why it was the best time to attack, my dear sister," He took notice of the three before you did and straightened up.

"Dear one." Torrhen called out to you, gesturing you closer and you raced closer.

"Father, welcome back!" You greeted him with a smile before gazing over at the trio of targaryen's and the smile on your face nearly falters but you'd been taught strictly by your mother.

"Welcome," You spoke softly, bowing your head softly. You'd been given the news and you didn't particularly care about going from a princess to a lady. It let you play in the snow with your brother, so you were fine.

"This is my daughter." Torrhen introduced you to them and you smiled up at them.

"It's an honor." Your murmured softly.

"Lady Stark, the honor is solely ours." Visenya took your hand into hers before the other two could even reach out and placed a kiss on the back of your gloved hand and your cheeks flushed bright red at the gesture.

Aegon had determined he was damned by the gods in that moment, he wished he could eat his own words. He needed to find some way to marry you. He was a king now, he could very well do that but Torrhen didn't look like he'd very easily let you go.

"You should visit us on Dragonstone!" Rhaenys spoke softly, leaning down to gaze at you with a smile. "We'd be happy to have you there!"

Torrhen had the odd feeling that he was watching three vultures flock around his daughter. No, that was absurd, it was well known throughout westeros that Aegon refused to take a third wife. Yes, he had no reason to worry.

[brynn-lear]

Put Another "X" On The Calendar [Yandere Angel of Death!Sunday/Reader]

Unreliable Synopsis: To be rejected by the angel of death himself… you must be heaven's favorite chew toy if he won’t let you die as intended. But this year will be the last time you'd play with his games. [5.6k words]

CW/Tags: gn reader, explicit and detailed suicidal themes, alcohol, very soft yandere angel!Sunday, dead dove: do not eat. Please prioritize your mental health first; you matter more than you think. This is first and foremost an expression/vent of real struggles, not a romanticization of the tags mentioned nor does it promote it as a solution.

𝟒𝟑,𝟖𝟐𝟒 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄. Nostalgia has grown unfamiliar for the past days— you can’t even fathom having the same bitter acknowledgement you had years prior. Someone once said a person shall always remain a stranger to themselves, and you dearly wish you still recall who that was so you could ask if it is in the same degree you feel now. Too often does the mind ask the necessity to get up every morning, until mornings become noons— and finally, evenings. Minimizing your waking hours as much as possible to avoid confronting the state of your own mind and body.

Today is Saturday. Or was it Sunday? You can’t remember. You only remember dates when there’s a deadline. And here you are, with another late submission.

Barely dressed for the snow, you leaned against the cold door.

“You’re here again? Why do I keep finding you here?”

The man turned around.

𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗢𝗖𝗢𝗟 (𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠)

I have read and understood this consent form, and I consent to the processing of my personal data. I agree to the inclusion of my anonymized data in research publications and understand I can withdraw my consent at any time. I acknowledge that confidentiality may be breached in cases of high self-harm or suicide risk to ensure my safety, which may involve sharing information with relevant professionals. I also understand that my consent does not affect other lawful grounds for data processing or waive my rights under the Data Privacy Act of ████ and applicable laws.

Client ID: ████████████

1) In the past month, have you wished you were dead or wished you could go to sleep and not wake up?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

It’s him again. The man that keeps hanging around your university’s Architecture Building rooftop. 

He smiled softly. “I could say the same to you.”

Despite the coldness of December, you came here with nothing to shield from it but the blazer your mom bought years ago for her office presentation. This stranger was almost as terrible as you were, in an opposing sense. He was draped all over, but his style seemed almost more overprepared for fall when it’s winter.

You let out a soft noise. 

Sometimes, you look forward to seeing this stranger on the rooftop. 

Trudging towards him, you asked plainly. “Who are you even waiting for?”

“I usually tell people that it’s my sister.”

You decided to ignore his strange phrasing.

“Can’t you two meet elsewhere?” You spat, unable to hide the disdain. Your voice made you cringe. More than anyone, you know how vile and cynical you truly are, but to let it be known now is counterintuitive. “I’m sure there are better meeting spots. Dreamjolt Cafe’s just around the corner.”

The stranger looked down, his eyes almost fluttering shut with a tense gulp. “I suppose there are more convenient locations. But…”

“But?”

He stared at you. His bright golden eyes that many complimented in your view looked as dull as the snow. No doubt he’s beyond human. This handsome stranger has no right to exist. He only serves to remind you how much you lacked while also blocking the sweet release you’ve been chasing.

Sometimes, you wish he was as lonely as you.

“But to leave is to take away far more than just promise,” he whispered but no breath painted the air. “To leave is to let someone down. Somehow, I feel as though I do not need to explain this to you.”

“You don’t have to.” You said out of disinterest.

“Other than that, I enjoy coming here and staring at the sky. The sight here reminds me of my purpose.” He stared at you intensely. “There's always a paradise that needs to be built. That vow is like the sun in the sky— perhaps I'll melt and fall before reaching it... But some hardships I must endure."

He took off his scarf and reached it out to you.

You blinked, raising a hand in protest. “No need.”

“I need it the least. Take it. You’re cold.”

Most days, you wish you could make him as lonely as you. 

“I don’t feel anything and I don’t like owing anyone anything.” The words slip out of you easily.

You don’t want to extend your time here for a random stranger.

“I know.” He muttered. “But still, take it. If I’m not careful, it may just be the only physical thing I can leave behind.”

For a moment, the sun and earth were silenced. You took the scarf, circling the soft fabric with your fingers. It was azure with speckled star patterns, ranging from complex to the most simple X-s and dots. You didn’t say another word. It was understood from then on that you both might’ve come here for the same reason. The rooftop was the haven for when the physical conditions that existence brings are met with crushing defeat. If he asked you the same question you had moments prior, you’d have but one reply:

It’s the tallest building on campus; I came here for the view.

With dissipating reluctance, he approached you and wrapped the scarf around your neck. His gloved fingers were shaking, but you made no comment. As you stare up, you’re greeted with the sight of his flushed cheeks and pursed lips. Yet, you’ve no motivation to return the scarf. 

Maybe the frostbite makes him feel a little more alive too.

As if to affirm your suspicions, he took off his own gloves. The act made the skin he hid with the long sleeves of his jacket visible. It was not your intent to be nosy, yet you saw the bandages wrapped around him. Gauze pads in places you’d expect it to be. The sight must’ve distracted you long enough, since the moment you looked at your own hands— it wore the black gloves he donned.

You’re wearing his scarf and gloves— he has nothing. No fur, no anything. Just him and a black coat, white shirt, and pants. Yet his limbs did not tremble. The temperature had no effect on him.

Finally, he gave you his name. 

“You can call me… Sunday. And you?”

Sunday.

You blinked. “Like the day after Saturday?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Exactly like the day after Saturday.”

With that, you decided you do not like him.

Call it competitiveness, call it frustration— name the emotion for whatever is convenient— but there’s no pleasant note to describe him. Objectively and instinctively, Sunday is predictably a good man. But the maggots that crawl inside you scream just how much he has no place in your life. They writhe behind your eyelids, burning with an unspoken illness that wanted him miserable.

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” You answered. “Realbrook Dorms. Room 404.”

To die beautifully and meaningfully. You don’t have that privilege.

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you tell me that?”

The dorm may just be the only physical thing you can leave behind.

“I don’t know.” You laughed, averting your gaze.

“Just in case you want your scarf back, I suppose.”

And you know what?

You’re sure he knows that you’re broken, too.

2) In the past month, have you actually had any thoughts about killing yourself?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

3) Have you been thinking about how you might do this?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧— but the higher beings routing out pest control. Entering the classroom filled with those bright and beautiful, those who were born to be who their program says they are, has patted you with the crown of envy.

No amount of pomodoros, no higher statistic in your Focus Plant app, can make you even a fraction of their genius. Depressing, but true. 

How can you even compete with a room of intellectual gatekeepers?

You’d ask a question, hoping to learn, and all they hand out is a vague response. Not an explanation, but enough for them to say “oh, but I replied, haven’t I?”

These Penaconian Science High School graduates surely are the cream of the crop, and they won’t spare other people’s hopes and dreams to get what they want. 

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is a highly competitive university. You expected this. It has a name. Your tuition is free. Everyone is a scholar. You just have to hold your breath and live through this. For the future you promised your loved ones.

Of course, assuming you can exhale after 3 more years. Assuming you still have a beating heart inside.

You bought another notebook today after you lost your previous one. The old one’s probably hidden under your “organized mess”. 

But at least you can force yourself to write good things again.

𝟷𝟸.𝟶𝟿.𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝟼𝚔 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔.

Walking, not running or jogging, is the only healthy hobby you have. Writing consumes you while art reminds you of your worthlessness. It’s a short sentence, but that’s fine. That’s why you bought a pocket sized notebook in the first place. 

Having that as a first entry is 3 miles better than a detailed plan of which sea you’ll last disappear to.

4) Have you had these thoughts and had some intention of acting on them?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲. You opened your dorm room. Thankfully, as it was the only stroke of luck you had that day, none of your roommates were around. You let your bag slid from your shoulders down with a loud thud.

For a few minutes, you squandered it salting the hard boiled eggs you bought with your own tears.On the floor no one was industrious enough to sweep, you sat. You had no energy to climb up your bed. It was just you and awkward silence. 

It’s Christmas season.

You have no good memories of it. You barely left your room.

Maybe you should’ve known that every December would compete for which year was the worst. The best December had to be the year when you’d receive terrible exchange gift presents like cheap junk food while you and your mother chipped in to buy a great gun toy. Then the worst was your first christmas without that family member you were closest to. When you’re reminded how deeply grief can cut through while everyone’s in good cheer.

There’s a knock on your door. 

Quickly, you put your jacket back on and wiped your nose. You twisted the doorknob open, already feeling terrible for the housekeepers. They often report to your parents when they decide to visit. So you’ll just slip in your excuse in the middle of the conversation.

“Hi, sorry Miss Rena, I’m sick right now— cold, really. Did I accidentally leave my water bottle on the study hall again—”

“Good evening, (Y/n). May I trouble you for a moment?”

You flinched at the familiar but oddly placed sound.

“Sunday?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “How did you— oh, right, I did tell you what my dorm was.”

Here he was again. You had half the mind to think he would only spawn on the rooftop, but you were wrong.

“It’s rather reckless of you, and I hope you will refrain from doing that to other men.” 

There was a dark tilt in his tone and his gaze matched it perfectly. Years ago, that could’ve put shivers down your spine. But you no longer care for most things.

You can only mimic a nervous laugh. Mimicking what you would’ve sounded if you still cared for your own safety.

Sunday offered you a small smile.

“How many times do you walk per day this month?”

“Huh?”

What a strange question.

He looked at the window. “Let’s walk outside. You haven't done ten thousand steps in a day for quite a while now.”

“What a rude assumption.” You scoffed.

“Was I wrong?” He asked, but the innocent tone made you second guess the teasing nature of his words.

If you two were close, your roommate’s unsuspecting pillows would’ve hit him square on the face. Sunday opened your wardrobe and grabbed the scarf you gave him.

…Why does he know where you kept it?

He opened the door wider.

“Come on,” he replied. “Let’s take a walk.”

You don’t know why, but your guard is always down when you’re with him.

Maybe you no longer have any sense of self-preservation. Which makes sense, given your real goal. However, unlike most, you do not love being loved. Being cared for ultimately turns into a debt to be repaid in your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t stop Sunday when he wrapped the scarf snugly around your neck. 

The two of you walked around the area. Sometimes, he’d talk about the people, animals, and objects of nature that piqued both your interest. Despite being nearly strangers, he was oddly calming to be around. 

Sunday held your hand as you both walked, like it was a matter of time till it crumbled. His eyes had this persistent pleading you refused to acknowledge. Even in silence, it was asking you the worst request.

To stay alive.

“Why did I cross your mind?” You asked him. “Why did you suddenly visit my dorm?”

He stopped walking.

“... Instinct.”

“Instinct?”

“Just a feeling, that something might…” He muttered a word nearly inaudible. “If I was away. Humans are not perfect individuals. Quite the contrary, their hearts are filled with contradictions at every moment.”

Sunday’s gaze softened, hurt.

“Which is why, even if you tell me you are doing fine, I am inclined to believe that the opposite is the case.”

“...I see.”

You subtly tried to get out of his hold, but he didn’t let you go.

“Why do you care?” You continued walking, and he resumed too. He always matched your walking speed. That in itself felt nice. That someone would adjust for you, that is. 

“I believe it’s… human nature to care.” Sunday hummed. “Listening has always been my job.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

Quietly, you took note of that.

“Here.” Sunday pointed at the benches.”Let’s take a rest.”

The university nearby— not yours— just installed more carved wooden benches. When he sat down, it felt like it was made for him. Quietly, you sat down beside him. He sits up straight, unlike you. You’re hunched back, fiddling with your hands as though there was an invisible toy that stole your attention.

Sunday sighed softly. "The evening light does tend to settle the heart, does it not? A quiet reminder that even the longest days must come to their end."

You looked at the sky.

"I guess. The day ends, but what comes after doesn’t feel much different.” You chuckled. “Same old suffering.”

“Perhaps there is something in the simple act of continuing. Something... precious in that.” He said. “We all walk our own paths. Though it may be lonely, as long as we keep moving forward, we won't forget each other.”

"Sure, if you're feeling masochistic enough in waiting for something that never comes." You huffed. "I've grown past that phase. Multiple times."

“Life has a way of leading humans in circles, only to place us where they are meant to be, even if they cannot yet see it."

“And spoiler alert, I’m not meant much for anything.” You looked up to meet his gaze. 

“But thank you, anyway. It’s nice to have a brief respite, even if it comes from the man I keep spotting on the rooftop.”

“And I’ll continue to materialize there if you refuse to have a truce with yourself.” He half-chided, half-teased. “I am the only one who truly understands you, who knows the depth of your heart, even when you can’t bear to look at it yourself. And until you no longer go to the roof to see the view from up there, I’ll continue to linger.”

There’s a blank expression on your face. An expression no human should be able to read.

But he can.

“(Y/n), if you need anything. I’ll be there. As I always have.” Sunday looked back at the winter sky. 

“And I’ll remind you of that everyday if I have to. Because that is what I choose to do. If I’m forced to take you, I—” Sunday closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

You’re not smart, but you understood what this was about.

You’re his.

You may not "know" him, but you’re his reason. His only reason.

And wishing for death threatens all his plans.

5) Have you started to work out or worked out the details of how to kill yourself? Did you intend to carry out this plan?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 just as you were making weak attempts to tug the sleep you’ve been missing for 5 years. There’s supposed to be an Engineering BINGO event today. You skipped it and thanked the campus for once that there’s no classes. Your rough, useless hand frantically attempted to hang up as if it’s no different from snoozing an alarm. But it was Hailee. The only person who ever regularly talks to you.

You answered, voice groggy at 3 PM.

“Heyyy (Y/n), where are you?”

“Hail—” you muttered. “Just sleeping.”

“You’re not coming? Cocona just won an IPad!”

“Good for her, good for her.” You didn’t really register what she said. “Since there’s no class I figured I’d just sleep in, you know?”

“Ah, yeah, I get that. I lowkey wanna go home too, but Max is having fun.”

“Yeah.” You yawned. 

“Hey, kinda random, but I just passed by Madeleine earlier.”

“Yeah well she’s always everywhere all at once.”

“Sure, but she was at the registrar.” Hailee paused. “She’s getting a transcript of records, I think.”

“What for?”

“I think she wants to transfer.”

You sat up.

“Really? Well, shit. I want in, too.”

“Yeah, same.” Hailee’s tone turned serious. “I want out of this hellhole too.”

“Hey Hailee?”

“Yuh?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Oh, okay, sur—”

You messaged Madeleine.

You paused.

Why are you telling her this.

You and her barely talked.

You and Madeleine messaged each other more for a while. Each notif was a half-hearted argument against going through both plans. Words of how neither of you should go through it leaning as a suggestion rather than a real conviction. You'd agree, but you both know it’s just words. 

She didn’t mention her reasons outside academics, and you didn’t mention yours.

The hesitation lingers, but you both danced around it, sending stickers of people hugging, pretending you'll back out, even though you know you both know you won’t. Neither of you is truly convinced, and yet, the conversation went on a seemingly positive note.

It’s fine.

At least now, you know, that you aren’t the only one who tried their hardest with nothing to return to.

But there’s a voice in your head telling you no. 

It doesn’t belong to you. It is not your voice.

Yet it begged and begged.

Please, don’t do it.

And for now, you’ll pretend you’ll listen to him too.

6) Have you engaged in, attempted, or planned any actions with the intention of ending your life? Examples: Taking pills, attempting to shoot yourself, self-harm (e.g., cutting), attempting hanging, taking pills but not swallowing, holding a gun but changing your mind or having it taken away, going to a high place but not jumping, gathering pills, acquiring a weapon, giving away belongings, writing a will or suicide note, etc.

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠. No one asked you to draw, but you figured since the man on the chair heavily recommended you get back to your old hobbies, you’d draw the people who consider you as a friend. So, you strayed from sketching topics that lead the mind wandering. 

You stared at the screen blankly.

Genuinely, you were caught off guard.

Careful. Don’t fool yourself that a small “thank you” means they would be there for you. You’ve been here before. Don’t be a pushover.

You closed your eyes.

No, thank you, Monica.

“Just a few more.” You muttered. “Just a few more portraits. Just one more holiday greeting. Just one more late video animatic birthday gift for Alex that I didn’t give weeks ago. And then—”

You can finally pardon yourself with the right to die.

Don’t.

Please don’t.

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…

Your messenger app crashed.

…

You turned off your phone.

7) If yes, was this within the past 3 months?

🟥 YES

⬛ NO

You blinked.

A hand. A hand reaching out that isn’t “Sunday”?

Really?

You laughed.

You laughed so loudly, you’d be glad if you remembered the fact that no one was around. 

It just feels so inhumane.

It is inhumane. 

So inhumane, that you felt offended for the last shred of humanity you thought you no longer had.

You cackled, feeling a drop on the back of your wrist.

The one time someone actually noticed you did not feel well. 

And they worry about someone else. 

You are such a fucking joke.

Your body shook, laughing at this unintentional cruelty. Air-like bile rises up your throat— your eyes burning. A few more laughter escaped your turtle lipped mouth. You couldn’t tear your pained gaze away from the screen. You wiped your eyes.

The funniest bit?

Crying won’t change a damn thing.

It’s nearly 2025, and no good thought crossed your mind.

Just like your father said: everything is evil, it’s only a question of how much you’ll let the devil consume you.

Today is Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? The man doesn't care to remember. He only remembers dates when there’s a deadline. And here he was, arriving at 11:59 pm. Just in time to stop another would-be tragedy. 

Barely dressed for the snow, “Sunday” leaned against the cold door, almost out of breath.

“You're here. Why must I keep finding you here…”

His purpose turned around.

It’s you. His ward that keeps hanging around the university’s Architecture Building rooftop… Now standing on top of your parents’ roof. 

You frowned deeply, tipping your weight slightly. “I could say the same to you.”

Before Sunday could utter a word, your phone buzzed. 

You grimaced as you saw the alarm. “Won't you look at thaaaat?! It's already 2 am. I'm so fucking stupid. I must've thought I set an alarm for 12 instead of 2.”

“Yes… Happy New Year, (Y/n). I hope your 2025 will be blessed.” Sunday spoke softly. His heart raced as he made slow movements to approach you. The man hoped he'd be close enough to pull you away from the edge.

“How much did you drink?”

You cackled.

“Weren't you already supposed to know the answer to that,” you slurred. “Septimus? THE Bronze Melodia?”

That was the exact moment… when your former guardian angel learned what it felt like for blood to run cold.

Once a guardian angel alongside his sister, Septimus was a protector of humanity, driven by a belief that he alone could heal the world’s ills. His perceived purpose blinded him of what was humanity’s true will, until the heavens cast him out for overstepping. Stripped of his former glory, he became the Angel of Death, his once-bright feathers now hidden in bandages. With each soul he reaped, the haunting melody of his fall lingers, a reminder of a savior who couldn't save himself.

And so, he only hoped that he could save you.

His one and lonely human.

Stirred awake were your memories when you first saw him on that rooftop. Even then, you knew who he was. It was the same fledgeling who kept you company in your silent home. The boy who listened to you talk for hours while everyone else “felt” a ghost. 

No matter how much he tried to look like the image of comfort, he would never be the character you used to love, in the same vein you can never return to the bright cheer you used to have.

“(Y/n), please…” Sunday begged. “Get off the roof.”

“My parents are asleep.” You hummed. “It’s 2 am. I’m on liquid courage. This is the only chance I won’t chicken out.”

“H-How did you know?” He asked. “Who I am?”

“I’m smart when it comes to things that don’t matter,” you cackled. “But ask me how to draw up a diagram for a unit process and I got absolutely nothing.”

You took a step back, which made Sunday take one harsh step forward. “DON’T.”

“Septimus, is it true?” You laughed again. “That you’re an angel of death?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you taken me yet? Does God have other plans?”

“T… Truth is, you should’ve died long ago.”

You’re not surprised.

“When I tried to open my guts with scissors, or when I tried to hang myself?” You huffed.

“Longer than that. I had to always snatch you away from your fate so you could have the chance to live on.” The angel spoke, voice weary. “I want to see you live another day. It’s what stripped me out of your guardianship in the first place.”

Once again, you’re not surprised.

“So it’s you…”

The anger in your voice was almost tangible. 

“So you’re the reason why I’m alive.” Your eyes twitched. “It’s you who kept stopping me.”

Sunday raised a hand. “I-I just, I want you to live long enough to see that a paradise can still be built—”

“My paradise is the ocean I want to drown myself in.” You spat. “Don’t talk about paradise when you know I can’t reach it.”

Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed. “That is not true—”

“Who else?”

“Who… else?” 

He’s taking ragged breaths. 

You knew it. Your hypothesis was right.

Keeping you alive is turning the angel of death human.

Many say angels do not have free will.

But this is what he chose to do.

Suddenly, his words on the roof made sense. Why he desperately wanted you to keep his scarf. Maybe there’s truth to it. Angels do not lie. Perhaps if he failed, he would’ve turned into ash and not human. 

Most days, you wished you could make him as lonely as you. 

Looks like in the end, you got what you wanted.

“Who else wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live to see another day?” You asked.

“Plen— some.” Septimus corrected his lie. “Some will want you to keep pushing forward.”

“Will, not would. Will is too late for anything.”

“Will because you don’t give them a chance to show they care.” He argued.

“They’d rather see me in a coffin than put in any real effort.”

“Why,” his voice croaked. “Why do you only assume the worst in people?”

“You know why. You know every ‘why’ there is.”

He inhaled sharply. They say to translate your thoughts and dreams into a creativity worth plagiarizing. Yet, when you’re one foot on the roof and one foot out the metaphorical door, you didn’t give a shit on becoming artistically verbose.

“No wonder I’ve never broken a bone.” You laughed. “And damn, I’d rather take a broken bone than whatever hell you’re putting me through.”

Sunday was close enough to touch you.

“Because despite everything, you are still you.” Sunday cooed, trapping you in his arms. “And as the being who loves you more than anyone—- who knows you when you are a stranger to your own self— I would know this.”

He pulled you closer by tugging your scarf. The same scarf he gave you.

And pushed you until you’re away from the edge.

“There is no sufficient reason enough for you to take your life.”

Sinfully, Sunday leaned your faces closer to once another. You smelled like wine. Sleep deprivation has made a lightweight out of you.

You shook, your voice taking a tone unfamiliar to you. Raw. Loud. There was frustration in it, which was the most harrowing emotion of all. 

“And so what? My problems aren’t bad enough— that I’m just a fucking loser who can’t get their shit together like EVERYONE ELSE? THAT MY OWN BODY GIVES UP ON ME?! TO THE POINT I FIND MYSELF PASSED OUT SLEEPING ON THE DIRTY FLOOR OF OUR UNIVERSITY’S FUCKING DRAWING ROOM?!”

“I—”

“I know what you’re thinking, it’s either one of two things. If you’re anyone else, you think I’ve matured too early, too fast, and if you’re just like my father, then I haven’t matured fast enough for you— isn’t that right?! I know what the FUCK that look is!”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt. 

“No one— NO ONE— fucking truly cares for me. No one PRAYS for me. You know the only people that I talk to nowadays?! Pixels. Fucking. PIXELS!!! So called people with faces I’ve never seen, just texts I have to imagine— just voices I have to convince myself are real. A human connection but not quite. And you know the amount of fucks they actually give?!”

It’s only then that you noticed your hands shaking, but that awareness only tightened your hold. 

“I can paint them a portrait as many as they want. I can greet them, make them laugh a bunch, but at the end of the day I’m hanging out where I don’t b-belong.” White knuckles. Short breaths. “I can listen, I can give people the time of day, but if you ask them what I’m going through, they don’t know jack shit. And there's my campus life, or lack thereof. Where do I even begin with that?!”

“I’ve sacrificed…” Your grip loosened. “I’ve sacrificed true friends, I’ve sacrificed time with family, sacrificed the remaining time I could’ve spent next to a dying loved one. I sacrificed my time, my literal blood, sweat, tears, and most importantly time— for a dream I was never meant to reach. Every morning I could’ve slept, every 6 hours I should’ve rested, there’s nothing. Nothing for a program I shouldn't have taken. And now they’re gone. One is even six feet under.”

You dropped your hold on him.

43,826 system hours.

“Let me through.”

Sunday breathed in shakily. “No.”

“Let me fucking through, Septimus.”

“Do you remember what I told you when we first had a proper conversion?” He retorted, breathless. “To leave is to let someone down, and I meant it literally. I shall not allow this. (Y/n), you just need someone to talk to.”

“And it’s not going to be you!” You laughed at his face. “Or anyone! There is NO ONE who can reach me, Septimus, there’s nothing that can fix THIS anymore.”

“Please, just hold on to me.” Sunday knew you were no longer hearing him. He knew there was nothing to be done. But he clung to your clothes— clawed your back— rested his face on your shoulder. “I have nothing to offer you but myself.”

“Let me destroy myself.” Palms clamming up. Heart racing. “Let me end this.”

“Please, just… █████ █.” He leaned in to a degree you can’t feel anything but inches of his skin. “Just give me till █████ █ to prove to you that each day is worth living. Don’t take your life away for me.”

Sunday cried. His tears were warm, normal. 

“I-I would much rather be human than an angel of death, so I could take care of you.” He wept, holding you closer— back in his embrace. “For I love you with all I have. No other had made me feel this way.”

…

…

…

You fell silent.

“Until █████ █?”

With closed eyes and thin lips, he nodded reluctantly. 

“Until █████ █.”

Your shoulders relaxed, and with a heavy chest, you felt like you regained the ability to cry again.

Thud… Thud… Thud...

Faint, but even faint is enough.

“(Y/n).” Sunday— Septimus called out with a voice that finally reached you. With trembling lips, he cupped your cheeks. His golden eyes blocked the shade of the dullest moon. In that moment, he was the only light you cling to, and it will remain so until the date he has given. “Let me be your north star, your steady hand. Let me take care of you if you cannot take care of yourself.”

Wonderful, if true. But the maggots gnaw deep in your skin. Whatever affection he has for you must be unreal and unfounded. A dove catching a worm underneath its pointed claws when it was to crawl to the nearest cliff. There’s a glimmer so conflicted in his eyes. A lucid thought running in a path that circles both his ego and conscience. A truth he doesn’t speak aloud.

He’s selfish.

Sunday doesn’t want you alive for the sake of living. The still surface of the water should’ve moved if so. There would’ve been another angel— another song singing praises of life to lift you up. But it was only him. Always him. 

He wants you to live for him.

He wants (Y/n) (L/n) to live for the angel of Death. 

Selfish.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

But Sunday— Septimus— whatever this foul beast was— he knew that he’s wrong. He knows that what he has done has crossed another heavenly line. He knew that you were past your date. He knew he takes too much pleasure in seeing you alive because he allowed it.

Yet the heavens would rather see you suffer than have you take your life again. 

(Y/n)...

He loves you. More than everyone in the world.

But even he doesn't PRAY for you.

You laughed again.

“█████ █.”

You leaned against his chest.

“You've set the date, and I'll patiently wait.” You replied. “By █████ █, you'll do the work, that was your promise. Septimus, I'm tired of taking my own life, so do your job.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry…” Sunday mumbled. His shaky breath was more human than you could ever be. “I won't prolong your suffering anymore. I'm sorry. I’ll hold your breath, just as the heavens intended.”

“It's fine.” 

You've had your solace. The answer you've been looking for since you were young.

43,826 system hours.

And just 1,512 bit more.

“Cause every X on the calendar would make me feel a bit more okay.”

Hotline

[pandas-pandemonium]

You know what's better than one cowboy yandere? TWO yandere cowboys, and make them twins or brothers!

note: this isn't proofread. I just typed this out in one go so uh yeah enjoy lol

Consider this:

Yandere!Cowboys who fall in love with the new fellow from the city, who's come down to spruce up an old farm that was apparently part of their family's inheritance

Yandere! Cowboys who decide, hey! Why not give a hand? They're initially just being friendly but as they get closer they realise- for sum reason, they don't really like all the talk you've been havin about leaving once the farm renos have been done

Yandere! Cowboys who start putting on moves, they do get into a short quarrel over who should be the legally wedded husband on the papers, but in the end they realise that it don't matter, you're stilll theirs at the end of the day. The law don't matter none at all

The country is real nice, y'know. Everybody knows everybody. Folks all got each other's back, not like the cold, ever-movin city of yours... why wouldcha wanna leave your new pals?

It all happens so quickly... one moment you're enjoying your farewell, the next one of 'ems barricading the door with their own body and the other's lifting up your dozing self and carrying you back to your new home, with your new husbands.

"Welcome home, darlin'~"

[inter-demensional-shapeshifter]

Really intense yandere x tired of life reader. Hear me out. They offer you a human heart or something equally edgy and horrible and yn just sighs soooooo heavily. And like. Listen. They don't think cops would actually help them, and they're running behind for work so like. Whatever. Yeah, we can date, just maybe step back on the murder for me, okay buddy?

Just a "this may as well happen" yn who decides the best they can REALLY do in this situation is play along and see if they can keep themselves and other people from dying.

Their Yan is just wrapped around them while they do their shopping, they have timers on their phone to make sure they give their Yan enough attention each day, and they just kinda accept that this is their new normal. I mean, once they calmed down on the murder stuff it's not even that bad. It's nice to be wanted, and maybe yn's a lil more affection starved than they thought.

Not to make everything a dog metaphor, but it's like a person who's had a reactive dog for a long time. Like yeah they'll lose their absolute shit if someone unknown comes too close and I had to introduce them to my friends by letting them smell each other through doors but I'm so used to it already that it's not even that big of a deal anymore.

[traumawhomst]

Ok but Yandere God/Deity/Spirit who falls in love with the hero who keeps coming in and wiping out his evil cults.

[dearest-painter]

Yandere Dragon ball z super concept with Hit’s adopted sayain little brother

Everyone meets Hit’s little brother at the torment as a watcher yet he sits with lord Champa because Reader is Lord Champa’s favorite person. Goku is intrigued by this mystery man because of his relationship with lord Champa but also because he looks a bit like Android 17 but that’s sorta. I feel like last minute Lord champa switches one of his fighters with reader and as soon as that happens Goku is happy because he can fight this man.

As soon as Reader is sent out Goku’s universe see that this man is a sayian but also can hit his opponent without moving. Reader acts exactly like his brother but he can make a huge power ball making Goku’s obsession deeper. Reader doesn’t get thrown out and keeps going until he fights Goku. Hit gets very scared because he loves his brother deeply and worries for him because he was just supposed to be a guest. Reader loses but not without his fight. Reader gets knocked out to a coma scaring his universe and surprisingly Goku’s universe.

After Zeno arrives Hit takes his brother home. Whis and Lord Beerus visit the brothers surprising Hit and the injured Reader. After that they all hang out in Goku’s universe making Lord Champa jealous. Thus showing the obsession with reader!

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Salaryman who is exhausted from this dull and pathetic job. He has been trying to climb the ladders for years, but it just keeps getting worse and worse and…

Yandere!Salaryman who has a burning hatred for the newbie aka you. “Oh! Congrats on the new promotion! I never have gotten one even though I have been rotting here for as long as I can remember, while you just came in last month”, he wants to tell you. Instead, he just offers you a strained smile and a small nod when you greet him in the morning.

Yandere!Salaryman who, one day, has to stay overtime with the newbie. As he diligently works on the numbers on his computer screen, he ignores your attempts at small talk, giving curt answers at best.

Yandere!Salaryman who finally snaps as you won’t leave him alone. He screams and shouts, emptying his heart out. Suddenly, he collapses on the floor and starts sobbing. He cries and cries for his pitiful self and miserable life, until it dies down to small sniffles. His face ends up being all red and puffy, his eyes all glossy and his lips settled into a pout. You can't help but find him cute.

Yandere!Salaryman who looks confused when you give him your handkerchief to dry his tears. He stays eerily quiet as you try to cheer him up, telling him that he shouldn’t ruin his pretty face like that. After offering your hand to help him stand up, you end this interaction with a small, empathetic pat on the shoulder and a “If you need anything, I got you��.

Yandere!Salaryman who, later that night, goes straight to bed. He can feel his face burn from embarrassment and maybe something else. Your words keep going on loop inside his head. Clutching the handkerchief close to his chest, a small whimper escapes him as he takes a whiff of it. You smell so good…He closes his eyes as he tries to recall your touch. Your hand was soft too…This is all making him dizzy.

Oh god, what did you do to him? And how was he going to face you at work tomorrow?

[suiana]

yandere! mr scarlettela who probably most likely makes you share an umbrella with him. he thinks it's cute and romantic, and he's a super romantical dude ☺️

yandere! mr scarlettela who will likely relent and get you your own umbrella after you repeatedly tell him that you want him GONE. why? cause whenever you share an umbrella he stands way too close for comfort like imagine sleeping on a king size bed but you're pushed to the edge cause he keeps edging closer and closer-

yandere! mr scarlettela who's highkey delusional... bro DEFINITELY thinks you two are married. like??? he thought the bodies you threw away were gifts to him 💀💀💀 if you as much as smile he'll think you want to have babies 💀💀💀

yandere! mr scarlettela who thinks you look the prettiest in red. sure you look pretty in other colours but red... you look beautiful in red. plus that's his colour! you're wearing his colour! that's like practically trying to get with him right? right????

yandere! mr scalettela who just loves you so much. why would you ever want to leave him? he'll treat you right, he will! please stay with him. please stay with him. please stay with him. please stay with him. Please stay with him. Please.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #57

Yandere Psycho patient! X Depressed/Suicidal Patient! Reader:

A yandere killer is a patient in a mental hospital who, despite his calm appearance, was feared by everyone. The doctors believed he was beyond recovery until they saw him being completely calm around you (you being another patient) and chatting animatedly, like two perfectly normal people. The yandere patient felt very comfortable and happy with you, but when he was taken away from you or other patients hurt you… he lost control and became a murderous beast.

The doctors studied his case and found that around you the yandere patient felt calmer, calmer and more relaxed. He spoke openly about his life and never tried to hurt you, he even painted beautiful pictures for you and accepted your hugs; however… the last nurse who tried to take you away from him… he choked her to death and had to be tied up.

However, not everything is rosy, because like every deranged yandere, he has kidnapped you or locked you in his room/cell several times; he doesn't want to let you go at any time; he has bitten you and even licked the blood from your self-harm wounds several times.

Once you saw him hoarding your bandages dirty with your dried blood, which disgusted you. You yourself have seen the massacres he causes when you get away from him, and although he never dared to raise his hand to you, it is chilling to see him go from being a nice and civilized guy to beating a patient to death with a chair or another object… just because this person took you away from him.

If one day he finds out that you have left the hospital or that you committed suicide, he will lose control and kill whoever is in front of him in ways like I said before.

What do you think about this idea?

[hana-no-seiiki]

okay but like himbo/bimbo/thembo reader who is such a fucking cinnamon roll that they solve all of the world’s problems because everyone and anyone is too afraid to disappoint them. even the goddamn fucking universe.

(not winnie the pooh parody inspiring me to write this)

like they’re literally too nice that people can’t help but fold to their whims.

yanderes murdering people?

reader politely asks them to stop because hurting people is not good and they would feel really bad if someone gets hurt, much less not live because of them.

everyone suddenly comes back from the dead.

war? suffering? natural disasters?

what even are those hahahahah

all solved. just make reader the ruler of the entire world; everyone and everything will be good.

reader gets kidnapped, creeped on, etc.?

the world actively tries to destroy the perpetrators. up until reader gently asks them if they could loosen the ropes binding them cause it hurts oh so badly and they can’t give people hugs like this.

and so you get freed with some reverse ransom right behind ya.

[darkestspring]

Can you do Yanmom + Rhaenyra + Yandad Daemon with dragon seed reader daughter of daemon who rides the cannibal with Yandere Lucerys + Yandere Rhaena as fiancée?

you were rhaenyra's first child, her beloved daughter who she loved above everything else. she loved all her children equally but you were special, a lovely child who she wanted to protect. you reminded her of her mother so much, so she had to protect you from wicked vultures and unkind people.

she kept you close to her, instructing jace and luke to protect you despite being three years older than luke and a year older than jace. they acted as rabid guard dogs, always keeping people away from you.

both of your brother's were very fond of you, the same way your mother way, you didn't get along with any nobles, so this was normal in your eyes. If jace and luke ended up maiming someone in their pursuit of protecting you, then that person probably deserved it in your eyes.

You remained dragonless, your dragon egg never hatching which had saddened you, that was until dragonstone. You were sad to see Ser Harwin go, you liked him a lot, he always spent time with the three of you when your mother wasn't there. But dragonstone was beautiful.

It was long after you moved there that you encountered the cannibal while exploring. You were curious as you approached him. He raises his head and let out a snorting sound as he looked back down.

"Good boy." You murmured in valyrian, your hand rubbing against his scales softly. He didn't protest, a purring sound leaving his chest. You beamed up at him.

He let you mount him and ride him, everyone was amazed and terrified by it, luke eagerly approached you, hands clinging to your clothes, making cannibal stare at him before letting out a growled sound that smoothed into a purr as you pet him.

Cannibal might not have been the oldest but he was your lovely boy.

Daemon couldn't stop staring at you, even throughout all of the funeral as luke held your hand, you were looking after jace and luke. You looked so much like rhaenyra, but you looked like him too. it was hard to miss but rhaenyra looked away from him, he watched her murmur something to you and you guided luke and jace towards his daughters.

Luke wasn't sure when it started, the incessant need for you approval, the thought that he'd even kill someone if only you'd smile at him and always be by his side. He loved you, he didn't want you to be with anyone else.

Aemond had become interested in you, so he followed along with the prank of him with the pig just to make sure aemond's interest stopped. he would never be worthy of you, no one was but him. His mother had already said he could marry you. You were his sister, he would always protect you, and he'd marry you and live a happy life. if he had to deal with aemond, so be it.

the next time line of events confused you. You were sleeping with luke when you were woken up by jace, baela, and rhaena. your mother had told you to help them, to comfort them as they were your cousins so when they said there was trouble, you got out of your bed and followed after them.

after the first hit you took for baela, everything was blurry, your head hit on a rock, you barely made out luke's rage and him injuring aemond.

a maester was looking over your bleeding head as your vision blurred when your mother rushed in, daemon coming in after her, not that you noticed.

She gasped, calling out your name as she noticed you were bleeding more than your younger brothers. "Let me see," She urged, eyeing the blood trailing down your forehead.

It was a blur of events, you later learned that alicent tried to hurt your mother and then have you betrothed to aemond, which she deflected by engaging you to luke.

It wasn't a bad series of events. your brothers and cousins clung to you a little tighter now.

"You got hurt for me." Baela muttered, looking guilty as bandages were wrapped around your head.

"I'll be fine. as long as everyone's fine, then it was worth it." You assured her, glancing towards Rhaena as she held on to your hand.

Rhaena got the feeling of wanting to kill aemond. he hurt you, you who protected them and comforted them. How dare he?

Rhaena would kill him one day, she swore it.

[ozzgin]

What if the Yandere school has some sort of event where they interact with students of the darling school and just like how our reader is a darling in the Yandere school they find a student of the darling school is a Yandere

You're an oblivious Darling going to Yandere School, and now you're paired up with...a Yandere hiding among Darlings. The absurdity goes on. Content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody

[Yandere School] | [Yandere School 2] | [More Yandere]

He could immediately tell. You were a sheep among the wolves, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He followed your movements with a predatory gaze, planning his approach.

He'd applied to Darling Academy out of sheer greed, hoping to find his soulmate. He searched, and stalked, and hounded, all in vain. Hell, he even had to repeat a year; it took him an ungodly amount of willpower to pass the damn kidnapping course.

"You're not surprised to discover your captor", the teacher had shouted, exasperated. "Unless you show me genuine shock, I cannot give you a passing grade"

"You can see her from a damn mile", he argued angrily, pointing at his darling classmate. She was supposed to simulate an attack, and he was to play the role of a clueless, helpless victim. Ridiculous.

Who would've thought his one and only was hiding in a Yandere School, of all places? So unforeseen, so unexpected, that he could not believe it to be anything but a fateful encounter. He glanced one final time at the enormous banner hanging against the school building:

"Annual Study Partnership Event: Yandere School x Darling Academy"

"You must be (Y/N). We've been paired together for the week. I'm in your care!", he beams cheerfully.

Despite his annoyance with Darling Academy, it proved to be somewhat useful in the end. Not only did it guide him to you, but it also polished his acting skills to near perfection. The teacher's office was guarded viciously given the previous attempts of the yandere students to cheat the system and have you on their team. Who would ever suspect a Darling? He simply waltzed in, scribbled his name on the event sheet, and left.

"I wouldn't be too excited", you confess, a little dejected. "I'm not...uh...the best yandere out there."

He pretends to sneeze, hiding the grin spreading across his face. Sweet, innocent thing that you are. Oh, don't worry your pretty head. He'll take care of everything.

The annual event consists of a week-long competition. A yandere student is paired with a darling counterpart, and the teams compete against each other for various activities. It's a learning experience for everyone involved, meant to hone the skills of a yandere and prepare the darlings for their future encounters.

First activity: tying up your darling.

Your eyes light up. For once, it's something you're good at. You hurry back to your partner, carrying the box filled with bondage rope, and nod towards the young man.

"Leave this to me", you state solemnly.

The timer starts, and you begin tying the knots. The yandere observes your process, completely infatuated. Your focused expression is downright adorable. Now, he could let you have your moment of victory. On the other hand...can he really waste this chance?

His fingers discreetly mess with some of the rope lying around. A little nudge here, another loop here. You're too absorbed in your work to notice anything.

You hear the bell and huff, exhausted. You wipe your forehead. This is it, the final touch. You hold onto the rope, and pull with all your strength. Suddenly you're dragged forward by an unseen force, and your face slams into your teammate's broad chest. You've tied the two of you together, somehow.

The other yanderes watch the display with a grimace.

(Y/N) is good with rope. This shouldn't have happened, they all think in unison. They glare at the darling pressed against you. Something isn't right. Is that man truly a darling? He feels more like a fellow rival.

"I'm so sorry", you sniff, humiliated.

He strokes your hair affectionately, reassuring you. It happens. The rope must've been faulty. You did your best.

He feels a cold shiver and tilts his head towards the bystanders, then smiles. It seems he isn't the only one who has fallen for you. Though he didn't expect it to be the whole school. Alas, what's life without a little competition?

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's get ready for the next part. I have a feeling we'll win this one", he says, winking at you playfully.

This must be the best week of his life.