Call Me Yours (Yandere x Reader Oneshots)

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M. Yandere x Broken F.

She remembered when she was little, unable to look for help or cry out. Those were times of uncertainty. One day she would be given more attention than she could handle, and others, she didn’t exist. She learned very early on that it was better to be hurt by the hands of those she loved than to be invisible to them. If she was hurt, at least she would live, but the same could not be said for if she was ignored.

The little girl was laying on her back, attempting to ignore the pictures taken of her. Her eyes were dull as an unknown man muttered perverse things under his breath. The girl’s mother attempted to ignore the matter, smoking a cigarette while she counted the money she was making. She seemed displeased, especially when the man became upset with the little girl, beginning to slap her.

“You look diseased! What’s wrong with you?! Show some of that naive emotion!”

As hard as the younger girl tried, she couldn’t feel a thing. It was the way she got through all of the things her mother subjected her to. Her tears began to water as she looked over at the callous woman. Her mother glowered at her, sighing under her breath for her to do as her “client” wanted. However, (Y/n) couldn’t do anything. A smile refused to come to her face as if she had been robbed of it.

It was only a matter of time before the man became aggravated. He slapped the young girl harshly as if she was but trash under his gaze and stormed over to the woman smoking, taking hold of the money he had paid. The little girl’s mother furrowed her eyebrows and quickly stopped the man, attempting to bargain for him to provide at least some kind of revenue for herself. She “needed” it or so she told her daughter dismissively, but in truth, it was to enable her vices.

“I know we don’t typically offer...physical services, but what’s a little fun if it means we all get to be happy?”

The man and the woman began to discuss their terms, each trying to get more out of the deal. The perverted male wanted to know if she was untouched and if he could go all the way, and her mother wanted to know how much he would pay for such a thing. However, the (h/c) haired girl was the one giving up everything she had. They weren’t doing anything but profiting off of her misery. She found tears welling up in her eyes as faceless people rose from the shadows.

They didn’t have eyes or a mouth, but somehow she could still hear their mocking voices and feel their violent gazes. They made the room cold and devoid of any light, blocking out everything as she felt the man’s touch on her skin. She then felt great pain as he took her chastity, her tears becoming violent as he jammed his hand inside her mouth to stop her “unfitting” and “unattractive” weeps. All the while, the shadows caved in on her and began stabbing her stomach with laughs that got progressively louder the more pain she felt.

. . .

(Y/n) bolted up in her bed, shaking with cascading liquid rushing down her cheeks. It was like a waterfall, falling with violence from its source in an attempt to cut down the jagged rocks. In that case, her heart must have been splintered glass and the pond below was devoid of any life if any ever did live there. Broken like a fragile gem, the years' worth of tears had eroded it away, leaving only a fraction of what it once was. She couldn’t love herself. Someone had to lend their heart to her in order for her to feel such a positive emotion.

As the younger girl attempted to gather her fears and push them back down, she felt a shuffling in the bed, warm arms soon embracing her tightly. She found herself pulled down to something warm and fulfilling like hot chocolate on a rainy day. The pitter-patters could almost be heard, the thunder long having faded away. It was alright if the clouds stayed. No doubt (Y/n) couldn’t handle the shining sun after being in the dark for so long.

“Get some sleep, baby,” a sleepy voice mumbled, “Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

At the sound of the male’s lulling voice, she slowly closed her eyes again and clutched her dainty fingers around the familiar presence’s pajamas. He hummed, petting her head ever so softly in order to relieve her of her fears. Alas, he knew it was never so easy. Then again, if just half of her was pieced together enough for a few words to solve her hauntings, he wouldn’t have been so utterly obsessed with her.

She was far too good to pass up, and if it meant he would have to tell her time and time again he wouldn’t leave her, he would. He was already thinking it to himself anyway. And while his actions spoke louder than his words, he could never convey them into the future. The (h/c) haired girl was only relieved by that in the present, something she could judge with her own eyes. Words of tomorrow meant nothing to her. In fact, they made her regress with anxious and bated breath drawn that such words would be broken and she would be left alone again.

The male watched as she gave a distressed expression, her eyes tearing up again. He gave a small amused huff and nuzzled her gently, attempting to relieve that uncertainty in her. Of course, it would never completely fade. He knew that all too well. But if he was loving enough, he could assist in her heart being eased, and he was certainly determined to try. He noticed as she clutched further onto him, silently pleading for help.

“What’s wrong, precious?” he hummed, placing a sleepy kiss on her forehead.

“You won’t leave me? You won’t, will you? Please...please don’t.”

The male chuckled again and held the girl closer to him, letting her hear the relaxing rhythm of the heart beating in his chest. He wasn’t entirely certain if she knew why he wanted her to hear it, but it was alright if she didn’t. In fact, he wouldn’t blame her if most of the things he did made no sense, but maybe he preferred it that way. The world was confusing and frightening, they both knew that, but if he could mimic that behavior, wouldn’t it make it a bit more bearable? If she saw similarities in that and the outside, perhaps she would feel just a bit calmer.

“Forget about them. Corpses are buried 6 feet under the earth for a reason. Let’s leave them like that.”

The (h/c) haired girl nodded slowly, giving a somber expression as she took a glass from the bedside table. Looking somberly into the small waves that were prompted by her shaking hands, she pressed her glass against the one he had taken, and together, they pressed the glass to their lips, letting the liquid flow through their thirsting forms.

The male traced her jaw, using very gentle and precise strokes to display his fascination with her. Her eyes shook barely at the way he touched her, darting over to the wall with a quivering lip. He could see the tears begging to flow, but he wouldn’t let them. As if it were a spell to prevent sadness, he kissed at the corner of both eyes, watching as beautiful yet muted colors swirled within them. That being said, whether they were fully pigmented or not, they were a window the male had been fond of staring out of into a land he was foreign to.

It was one with broken and fragmented concrete and dirty, abandoned buildings, reeking of death. Still, he had been used to the smell, more or less at home in it, and yet, for some reason, the only inhabitant of the foggy city was fearful of its presence. Shaking her head at the thought and holding her breath until she inevitably passed out again and again, her dismissal of the state of things and refusal to fix it seemed to call him further into the desolate streets.

Cries echoed through the barrier he found himself enveloped in, and while most would turn away, the resonation between the realization of depravity and the frigid air made his mind spiral. Even then, he could see the small girl weeping, her torn dress and bruised body giving evidence of others invading her spirit and ripping it to shreds. No one had been there in years, and yet, she could not heal nor move forward, trapped in a haunted state of perpetual fear and dejection.

The male crouched down to the small thing, watching as her head snapped around and she cowered at his presence. Known to her for more years than not, he was still a stranger in that place of blood. The only residents of the flesh buildings were those that constricted it, prompting her to freeze in paralyzation. Those that had hurt her, scorned her, abandoned her when she needed saving lingered there, and try as he might, but their immaterial forms were not something he could cut away with a rusted blade.

He had found only temporary measures to relieve the pain within her, his actions lasting for but a moment or two within her. In that time, that flicker of light, the city turned to a haven of flowers, an everlasting field with no confines existing solely for the two of them. There was no one else to prohibit her legs from running or smiling, only him who cared more for her than himself.

In those moments, he watched as she would revert to the beautiful woman he watched her grow up into from the other side of the window. Color returned to her world. Red was flushed out by yellows, blues, and bright pinks, greens soaring along the meadow and expanding her (e/c) irises. The roses and lilacs flourished wherever she walked, a smile etching its way onto her face as she gazed up at the bright sun, shielding her delicate pupils from its splendid warmth.

And yet, through most days, the sun shattered, splintering back down to the bloodied earth dyed with scarlet and painted with taunting smiles. Night was the only thing there, the air cold and her lungs tight. She sat down with the form she knew best, her childish features refusing to exhibit her freedom. Instead, she watched memories flash by, screams echoing while her tears fell to the ground, each one prompting the air to become more frigid.

He had been forced to endure watching blurred shadows torturing her frail form, unable to remove them. It was but second nature to cut down any pain or eradicate agony, and yet, no matter how many times he tried to free her of her suffering, the knife he held phased through them, only cutting his own skin in the process. The blood of the living was spilled while the dead chuckled with false pity.

He tried time and time, again and again, attempting to free her of the binds that restricted her limbs. They pierced them with dulled nails, pinning them to the wall of the past while bleeding her day in and day out. Her eyes had been plucked out by their vulturous claws, ripping away at everything she had. Blood was rampant, screams echoed, chaos rained, but whatever happened, she remained as she was, time having been wiped away, far beyond her memory’s recollection.

The male had found that, despite his struggles to have her freed, she still couldn’t walk on her own. Her legs had been pierced for far too long, the blood having left her form and sinking into the floor, dying it a shivering scarlet. It ran thick, ran far, ran, ran, ran long into the distance beyond even him and his time there if such a thing existed any longer. She couldn’t move herself any longer, relying on others to carry her. But it took such a toll on her that it seemed hopeless.

As he watched her small form weep quietly at the ridiculing shadows that continued multiplying, he began to rethink something he had once been told. Time did crumble things, indeed, but things never grew old with her, never allowing her to forget. If in the absence of time, what had happened to her? Reverting to a child and reliving her most painful moments, she was rebuilt only to crumble, folding in on herself as if time itself repeated infinitely in just the blink of an eye for him.

How many times had she gone through it all? How many times did she suffer through ghosts’ illusions? How was he unable to stop it all? At moments such as these, he found it too difficult to continue looking into those (e/c) windows. Beautiful though they were, they were stained with hardship, cracked with fear, and boarded with uncertainty.

Everything about it echoed her objection to being near another living being. Yet her hands grabbed onto him for dear life, begging for some semblance of interaction. It was one step forward, but the other was way back. Her feet were in two places at once, and she found it difficult to balance over an ever-shrinking ledge. She was uncertain whether to step forward or back, her desires clashing between hot and cold, life and death, water and blood, loved or abandoned.

Though raised in the latters, he wanted so piercingly to drag her into the formers, bathing her in ever-expanding fields of flowers, clear skies, flowing water, and hearts filled with adoration. Unconditional, he wanted it, all of it. Free and open, he wanted to expand her world past what she knew and open her to what she deserved. From the hugs he wanted to shield her in to the nights of mutual passion he wanted to explore with her, his desires were endless.

Desires of pure love to one coated in blood he shed for her. He had done it before, executed people that had tortured her in an attempt to remove them from her slowly winding mind. It had been very quickly engraved into his mind that removing the physical interpretation of her fears did little to remove them from the prison inside her eyes. They still lingered, only amplifying the moment he put an end to their reign of terror on her. Like a hydra, they came back stronger, sending his nerves aflame with rage for her.

His hands shook as he looked down at them. With overbearing love for her or hatred for those that sowed seeds of fear within her radiant heart, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to wring his hands around something to release the emotions rattling around in each artery he had. That being said, taking a life to satiate his own desires came second to easing hers. Though they were vastly different and frighteningly difficult to fulfill, he was the only one that could, the only one she let close.

For better or for worse, he was there by her side, peering inside of her and allowing her to gain what small amount of relief she could muster in her slowly beating organ. When he laid her down against the bed’s mattress and pressed his ear to her chest, his eyes narrowed in confusion, his hand squeezing tightly onto hers. A “thump” echoed every now and then, the nature of the rhythm overly concerning to his soul that was sensitive only for her.

He imagined the blood beyond her eyes was what took the rest away, preventing such great movement of her limbs. Or perhaps it was the fact that so much had been drained from her already that she found no point in walking any longer. The more she meandered along, the more she would experience pain, the more abundant and critical it would become to her. Yet staying in the past, remaining still, did nothing better to distance her from that agony. It was a conundrum neither could solve.

“(Y/n),” he hummed inquisitively, his voice low and piercing to the spirit.

After saying the name that was so precious to him, the male lifted his head just barely, continuing to remain on her chest. It was closest to her heart; his most treasured place in the world despite its fragile and demented nature. Broken or not, it belonged to him despite the fact it was not wholly so. Nonetheless, he resigned himself towards staring back into the clouded windows to kiss her lips lovingly. He swore he could almost taste the blood lingering on them from their first encounter. A tragic smile etched its way onto his somber expression.

The moment his delicate flesh made contact with hers, he found himself face to face with the girl inside of her heart. That little form of hers with the ragged dress and bloodied body, he loved it all the same and was determined to have her to himself. No one else would be able to harm her without his permission, and it would be a million years - no, an eternity - before he ever let that happen. At the thought, the shadows rose once more and descended on her.

Forcefully, he let himself hectically pace through the ghostly forms haunting her, prompting such precious tears to spill from those mute eyes. Each step forward, each shadow he encountered cut him deeply, the pain making him growl. How badly he wanted the chance to rip them apart. Nonetheless, he was stronger than they were, and in wading through the endless layers of form upon form he eventually found the small girl, clutching onto her hand tightly.

She looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks, boarded to the wall with rusted nails and blinded eyes. He looked at the sight with gut-wrenching heartache and immediately set to ripping apart what bound her. The nails fell with a jingle, the blood with a splat, and her body with a thump. Picking her up gently, he took notice of her limp limbs, holding her tightly, and helping her carry the rusted knife he had always been so fond of.

The small girl was heavy - overly so - as the regrets and despairs settled in her like molten iron through her veins, weighing her down to the earth to prevent her escape. Still, he held her up, her blind and paralyzed form confused and in a daze. A shadow then approached them with its greedy talons, eager to rip away her hope and devour it, leaving her without a scrap for herself, but he wouldn’t let it.

Leading her hand forward, the male placed his hand on her wrist and moved it forward, cutting the ghostly form in half and leaving it to wither into dust. Like a dance of progress, he assisted her in eradicating anything that weighed her down, guiding her until she could do it by herself. It was as if he was a guardian watching his ward grow up, the small girl slowly aging, finding it in herself to go against the standstill of time and cut past what held her back.

“I will be your eyes, your body, your knife,” he sighed into her ear, “So hold onto me and me alone and dismiss all dread to do so. I want to be the only one in this world with you. I want to bathe in the sun with you. I want to kill your fears as you have killed mine. Because, over all else in this damned world...”

The girl’s grip on the knife tightened as the male spoke, her eyes darting back to the male with tears. They were not of terror or confusion but of acceptance and of relief. She gave a shaky smile, only beginning to remember how to do it again, and when gifted a kiss on the forehead from him, she found it in herself to walk once more. The more he clapped, the more she butchered her own past traumas, walking and then running forward away from the wall she’d once been chained to.

“I love you.”

Those words resonated once more in the heart that began to beat faster, her cheeks glowing like a rose in the sun. Ghost after ghost, shadow after shadow, she cut them away, the male right behind her, turning her head gently forward whenever she tried to look back. She cut through them all, and once she had disposed of the last one remaining, she winced, covering her eyes at the sudden appearance of light.

Peeking through the cracks of her delicate fingers, she watched as the sun began to rise over a field of flowers. Every color imaginable flourished, rising towards the glowing sun that warmed their forms. All semblance of frigid air vanished, replaced with heat that only increased when the male put his arms around her. His hands shook with overwhelming joy, the cuts he had inflicted from the ghosts healing when she kissed them.

And as the male exited the world he had freed, he looked down at the glasses they had once held. They had shattered on the ground, spilling the remains of the beverage over the floor, resembling blood. He chuckled weakly as he used the last strength he had to look into the girl’s slowly closing eyes. There, he watched as light once more entered those (e/c) irises, replacing the prior muted hues. As quickly as it had come, the sun had set, and she closed her eyes, the male following shortly after to join her in the flower field they had created.

Though their bodies would be cold, their souls would dance amongst the ever-blooming flowers in the world of their own making. Expanding far into the horizon, there would never be another drop of blood or ounce of suffering, the dead left where the dead ought to remain. And in order to see the light they so badly wanted to feel dancing warmly over their aching flesh, they resigned themselves to draining themselves of all humanity, letting it fly through the wind like the dust of the past.

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