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ngai

2 years ago

Yandere Scream Drabble

Word count ; 6.8k

*Edited.

*IMPORTANT : I have bad wifi right now and can't continue the Eddie Munson for a few days. In exchange, I plan to do a yandere Eddie Munson drabble tomorrow, and the following day, a yandere Billy Hargrove. It should still be good, so check those out when they come out! Apologies for a momentary wait.

The living room was consumed by the television static and it buzzed quietly and glared a brilliant blue. The rest of the household was also dark, nothing but the moonlight peaking in from the open windows. An azure mist befell the air, and outside, the weather was windy and preparing for autumn. From the living room, to the left, there was a connected and small kitchen. And following that was the front door, with nothing but a few closets lining the hall. To the right of the living room there were steps that led to a shadowier part of the household. The stairs ascended to several bedrooms and bathrooms. There was but one that had light spilling from underneath the crack.

Usually, Y/n’s older brother was louder. But it was a tiring day for the entire family. The parents were out on a hard earned date, leaving two siblings to do as they pleased. However, as greatly needed as the peace and quiet was, there was something sinister in the air. Dylan felt it. And because of that, he planned to wait until the parents came home.

Back in the living room, though, lying down on her side on the plush couch, was Y/n. Her sleeping form was curled up and her head rest on the arm of the chair. She fell asleep to a favorite movie of her’s. After a hard day at school, filled with many tests and assignments, she went home and watched a movie.

It would prove itself to be a bad idea.

Her quiet, steady breaths were inaudible. Or, they would be, if not for the mysteriously robed figure that emerged from the shadows. Their steps were slow and steady and silent. They had inky cargo boots underneath the silk cloak that covered every inch of their body, minus for their leather glove-covered hands and the blinding white mask that resembled that of a ghost. They were stealthy and sleek. They were dangerous.

And, clasped tightly in their left hand, was a thin, curved knife that glinted menacingly in the moonlight.

They rounded the couch. Tauntingly, they raised their knife to drag along the top of the couch, and the knife tearing at the fabric fell upon deaf, unconscious ears. Y/n, from her position on the couch, stirred, but instead, flopped onto her back and straightened her legs out. She clutched a pillow to her chest and let out a small sigh of contempt.

The figure paused, and their mask tilted toward them further, form towering over her’s. Even with a mask on, it was easy to tell their eyes were glued to her figure. They moved lowly, stalking their prey. Enjoying the process. Y/n would be afraid, very much so, and she would be soon.

They raised his knife, taking one final step so that they rounded the couch. If she were awake, he would be blocking her view from the static television. But, instead, she just let out another yawn. They were enjoying her sleeping, unconscious form, drinking in every inch of her.

They lowered the knife to her chest. It hovered threateningly, and for a while, it remained. The figure hunched over completely, masked eyes flitting over her body. And then, slowly, the knife ghosted past her chest to her neck and then to her cheek.

How tempting it was to leave a mark. To frighten her even sooner than planned. But they knew of the older brother upstairs, with a computer in his bedroom, and it would soil their plans completely to wake her.

Although they did not stab, they couldn’t help but press the bad to her plush cheek ever so slightly. And it amused them when her brows furrowed and she swatted at the pressure. But, by then, they had withdrawn the knife, and instead turned to the glowing television.

Their predatory eyes surveyed the room until they spotted it. Sitting on the long coffee table was a remote. They leaned over and picked it up. With but one push, they turned it off, shrouding the room in darkness and silence. The mist consumed the room.

Dylan was standing in the upstairs hallway. He had just left to use the bathroom, hand barely pressing against the handle. He thought of himself paranoid, but then he noticed that the blue light from the living room disappeared. He paused, listening. And what baffled him more was that no lights flickered on. There was no chatter that his sister would usually release when arising from slumber.

His eyes narrowed and he felt around the wall. He waisted no time in flicking on the hallway stairs, and he could finally see his path. Slowly, he stepped down the stairs. The house was old, though, and with each step he took, a creak echoed in the household.

When he arrived at the base of the steps, he was quick to notice that Y/n’s hair was still strewn over the side of the couch. The television was off, and yet, she was so still and silent that he wondered. However, the house was undisturbed. And for a moment, he thought all was well in the house.

Surely, the woman had just woken up for a moment to turn off the television.

His body twisted and he planned to relieve himself in the amenities, as originally planned. And then, he heard it. It rolled shivers down his spine when the phone started ringing from the kitchen. Y/n groaned and threw the pillow over her ears, clearly desiring to continue her rest. So, that left the man to answer the phone himself.

As he walked, he flicked on only the kitchen light. He flinched, waiting for his eyes to adjust. But by then, a minute or so had passed and the phone went silent. Dylan, feeling pressured, stalked over to the phone. It was silent, and the moment he went to lift it, it started ringing again.

It was deafening as he removed it from the receiver and shakily raised it to his ear. For some odd reason, he dreaded the idea of someone on the other side of the line. On the news recently, there had been murders occurring in their sweet town. Murders happened all the time; and yet, the ones occurring seem pointed and specific. Like some revenge plot of a psycho.

“Hello?” Dylan spoke, his deep voice rumbling with discontent. His heart boomed in his chest.

For a moment, the other person was silent. And then, almost robotically, a voice replied,” Hello, who is this?”

Dylan didn’t like them. It was deep and crackled, almost as though it was fake. They sounded calm and collected, more than one should be when calling a person. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Who… are you looking for?”

Once again, silence rang. Dylan didn’t like the sound of their voice. He figured it to be a prank call and nothing more. There were a lot of sick creeps who probably got off on frightening and confusing people, especially with all the orders going on.

And so, he did what anyone else would do. He slammed the phone back on the receiver, and the moment it clicked into place, he felt relief. He warily glanced over his shoulder. From the angle he was at, he couldn’t see his sister. Only the couch. However, when he heard some shuffling from the cushions, he let out a sigh.

He turned, about to walk away. But he was forced to stop in his tracks when more ringing sounded. He clenched and then unclenched his fists. He turned back to the phone sitting on the kitchen counter, glaring as though it would shut up if he intimidated it.

He realized the caller was ruthless, though. And he went to answer. However, a quiet, croaking voice called from the living room.

“Dylan, who’s calling? Mom and dad?”

He gulped again. “No.”

“Then who?”

“I’m not sure, sis.”

“…Oh.”

She went mute again, clearly wishing to sleep further. On the tip of Dylan’s tongue, he wanted to tell her to go to her room to sleep. But, instead, he silenced his thoughts and picked up the phone. He prepared himself mentally, about to speak, but the menacing caller beat him to it.

“I’m sorry. I’m looking for Y/n L/n.”

Shivers rolled down Dylan’s spine. “…Who is this?”

“I’m her friend.”

“Which one? I’ve never heard your voice before,” Dylan seethed with suspicion, not allowing the man on the other side to breathe. “I would remember a voice as distinct as your’s.”

“…”

For a second, Dylan thought that perhaps, the man on the other side had hung up. There was a prolonged silence, and the only way he could tell they hadn’t hung up was because of the quiet, labored, and angry breaths from the other side.

“Give the phone to Y/n,” the voice demanded, slurring with a threatening undertone. They were still calm, and yet, it was like they were seething just as much as Dylan, biding their time to strike. Dylan didn’t understand. So many questions threatened to fall from his lips, and yet he withheld them, knowing he’d yield no response.

Dylan was quick to reply, voice higher in pitch due to concern and masked fear,” She’s not here. If you give me your name, I’ll tell her you called.”

“Oh? Where is she?”

Dylan paused. But only momentarily. He could almost hear a knowing snicker from the other side, although it was higher pitched. It caught him off guard, and he was quick to answer,” Out with parents.”

“…Oh? Is that so?” They almost sounded angry. Spiteful. And, in the silence that followed, Dylan wondered if he had convinced them.

Suddenly, they were angry. Their voice grumbled menacingly. “If she’s out with parents, then why am I looking at her right now, sleeping on the living room sofa, Dylan?”

His heart stopped and he looked around wildly. He took the phone with him, surveying each window. As he did so, he shut the curtains. He made it to the living room, gritting his teeth. He even pulled the curtains for the back patio shut, but not before surveying the backyard,

Dylan was about to shout as he shut the last curtain. “Who —“

“Ah, ah, ah,” the creep cooed in a sing-song voice. “You might want to lower your voice, Dylan. It would be a shame if you awoke sleeping beauty. After all… that would mean I’d have to skip to the process where I gut you like a fish.”

Silence. Dylan was absolutely shell-shocked. His skin grew pale from fright and his hand gripped the phone so tightly the plastic cracked. The man on the other side released low, rumbling chuckles. They were enjoying this. And, as much as he wanted to call bullshit, Dylan knew whoever was on the other side was looking at them and had a manic interest in his sister in particular.

It frightened him to the core of his being.

“Who are you?” Dylan stuttered, barely above a whisper. He turned toward Y/n, who was still fast asleep. She had tuned out the phone call. Dylan wished she hadn’t. But she was known for being a deep sleeper. And that scared him.

“I don’t think that’s what you should be asking right now, Dylan,” the voice hissed venomously. “What you should be asking is: How long has your front door been unlocked?”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Dylan suddenly boomed. Y/n jumped, sitting up instantly in bewilderment. Dylan was frightened, though. So very frightened. And, in his concern, he threw the phone down on the ground before making a mad dash to the front door.

By now Y/n was wide awake. She stood up and reached for the phone. Dylan was so frightened that she knew not to disturb him. And when she leaned over and picked dup the phone she heard nothing but loud beeping on the other side. She was perturbed. She wanted nothing more to type in nine-one-one.

Dylan in the meanwhile crashed into the front door. He froze, though, realizing that the front door was locked. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even further distressed. His mind was racing with questions but all he knew to do was return to his dearest sister and call the police and arm himself.

“Dylan? Is someone at the front door?” Y/n called shakily, holding the phone in her grasp.

Dylan gulped, turning back. He was frozen for a moment, eyes gazing around the kitchen and living room. Whoever was there, they were either outside or they were inside. And neither of those possibilities were good. Whoever was watching them were confident with whatever they were planning to do and that terrified the man to his very core.

Especially for his sister’s sake.

“I don’t know. Y/n, call the police.”

Y/n was quick to listen, dialing in the number. Dylan kept peering out the front door, waiting to see a face amidst the dim porch light that he previously flicked on. There was nothing and yet, he could feel predatory eyes glued to his form.

Y/n finished punching in the numbers and hit to dial it. Her heart was racing and she was scared. Was the local murder after them too now? Several of her classmates had been butchered, and they were either an acquaintance of her’s or a true friend.

She knew she was next on the chopping block.

“This is the Woodsborro police department —“

Suddenly, the phone began buzzing. The woman blinked for a brief moment, feeling her brother’s urgent eyes watching her. But, not even a second passed and the lights flickered before ehe house was shrouded in darkness. Y/n was petrified, the phone slipping from her grasp. Her eyes were forced to adjust.

“Fuck! Y/n, we need to go,” Dylan exclaimed, starting down the hallway.

He went to the closet and moved for the knob while Y/n began moving toward him. She hugged herself tightly tears stinging at the tip of her eyes. Someone was here to hurt them. And she knew it was the local serial killer that was seemingly targeting high schoolers.

Y/n was barely around the couch when Dylan threw the closet door open. It banged against the wall loudly.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched shriek escaped the grown man. Something emerged from the closet, adorning an inky coat. They tackled Dylan into the wall, and both of them fell to the ground. Y/n screamed, realizing the direness of the situation.

Especially when, within the moonlight, a blade glinted.

“Y/n, run!” Dylan bellowed, pawing at the man above him.

The woman didn’t, though. The attacker was straddling Dylan’s waist while he struggled underneath, and in one fell swoop, he raised his knife. The attacker wore a ghoulish and cartoonish mask, and Y/n could feel the sadism and psychopathy radiating from him.

The figure let out a low, rumbling chuckle. Dylan realized it wasn’t at all like the one on the phone, though. And that scared him. Because whoever was about to stab him wasn’t working alone.

Y/n, as a last minute reaction, dashed at the figure. They but glanced and panicked, lowering the knife. It stabbed into Dylan, but at that moment, Y/n had tackled them to the ground. Her head hit the front door and the attacker’s knife was stuck in Dylan’s bodice.

The said man was groaning in agony. The knife, instead of being lodged in his heart, landed in his abdomen right underneath. He groped at the knife with shaky hands as blood spewed from the wound. He pulled it out, letting out an agonized cry while doing so.

While Dylan was struggling to push himself off the ground, Y/n was doing the same. The figure was tussling with her, although almost reluctantly. She was flipped over into the wall, her head ringing and vision blurry. She let out another gut-wrenching scream at the top of her lungs but the attacker didn’t seem to mind.

Their gloved hands pushed her against the wall. Y/n pushed at them in order to try and deter them, but it was for nought. As one of her hands reached for the mask, the tilted their head away, almost mockingly. They then shook their head, one hand pressing into her throat.

Y/n let out a squawk, instead directing her attention to the new pressure. The attacker was having fun with them and she hated it. It scared her that someone could derive such sick pleasure from murder. Tears slid down her cheeks as she felt the breath leave her body the harder they squeezed.

In the corner of her eye, she saw that Dylan was on his hands and knees, crawling toward them. His teeth were gritting to withhold cries of pain. He was trying to reach them so desperately as Y/n flailed underneath the attacker’s grip.

And suddenly, the killer, as though realizing her attention was elsewhere, peering over his shoulder.

By that point Dylan was close enough. He swung the knife, slashing at the killer’s back. A high-pitched curse escaped their lips, but they were seemingly well enough. Their grubby hands abandoned Y/n, instead flipping over and kicking Dylan. The knife went flying, and so did he.

As Dylan’s body flopped, a resounding crack echoed. Y/n rubbed at her throat, hungrily gulping in more air. She pulled her leg away, and the attacker’s attention was no longer on her. Instead, they stumbled to their feet, aiming to finish off her brother.

Through choked sobs, Y/n tried to push herself up with the help of the front door. Her fingers clawed desperately at the chain lock, although her gaze remained trained on the killer. She cried,” What d - do you want?”

The killer seemingly ignored her, walking over to Dylan’s laying form. He was weak and his blood stained his entire body, still seeping out of the wound. The killer tilted his head at the man, who was eagerly using what strength he had to push himself further away.

It was in vein, though, because the killer was quick to raise his foot and bring it down upon his stomach. Dylan let out an anguished guffaw, clawing at the foot. The cargo boot remained, though, instead pressing further. Blood spilled and stained the articles of clothes, and the attacker clearly preferred it that way.

Only then did the gravity of the situation hit her. Dylan was barely conscious. The knife had slid somewhere into the kitchen or living room. Her dearest brother was bleeding out and she was almost strangled.

As badly as she wanted to save Dylan, deep down, she knew he was a goner. He couldn’t run. His ankle was sprained. He couldn’t fight. His strength was quickly leaving him. He couldn’t call the police. The power was shut off.

“Please…!” Dylan cried out, gripping at the foot tightly.

The killer continued to push further. More and more cracks sounded. There was even some echoing squishes from Dylan’s body. However, the attacker wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Instead, he raised his masked hands and tilted his head at Y/n.

Y/n’s movements froze and her brows furrowed. There was almost something familiar about the attacker and their hands curled and connected, forming a small heart. They paused in that moment, and even though their entire body was covered, there was something lovesick about their demeanor.

In one fell swoop the chain fell off. Y/n could spare no more time, seeing that her brother was but a twitching bodice. Her vision was blurred with tears and her fingers turned the last lock. Her brain was too panicked to form a coherent plan.

All that she thought was run.

But, as threw the door open, she replied that behind her, her attacker hadn’t moved an inch. Their gaze was glued to her form.

And, as she went to step onto the porch, she realized why.

Amidst the darkness, was another cloaked figure. They were shorter but broader in stature, although they wore the same inky cape and caricature mask. A scream released from her throat as the other attacker’s hands flew to her, trying to restrain her.

Two low chuckles released. For a moment, she struggled, as two hands clasped onto her shoulder. However, her knee raised and hit them right in the crotch.

The now realized man hadn’t been expecting that. She was freed instantly as the man stumbled back a bit before their knees crumpled. His hands went to massage his crotch, and Y/n was almost relieved for a second. She raised her foot, wanting so dearly to get past. She prepared to kick the man out of the way.

Just then, two strong arms looped around her waist and pulled her away. Another screech escaped as she flailed and struggled, but was once again pulled into the house. She kept struggling against the attacker, and said attacker kept backing up clearly struggling to see her contained in his arms.

One hand went to claw at the mask, and she heard a grunt of annoyance. Meanwhile, though, the other rose to his feet. He hobbled slightly, still grasping at the wound. He leaned against the doorway for support, panting angrily. His gaze was glued to us, and I saw he was fishing around his cloak for something. He was about to pull something from his pocket, when suddenly, the other’s footing failed them.

The killer fell on his back, having tripped over Dylan’s corpse. Y/n couldn’t help but cry out, wishing for even one car to drive past. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, her neighbors from down the street would hear. And yet, all her thoughts abandoned her as the masked man spoke.

“Stu, you fucking dumbass!”

A sense of betrayal washed over her.

“Hey, man, I’m trying my best here!”

It was Billy and Stu. Her classmates. Her friends. Her best friends.

Her brain short-circuited. However, the moment she felt the figure who now revealed themselves as Stu trying to prop himself up on his elbows, she rolled off. Her flesh crawled when she felt spirts of her brother’s blood sprinkle against her skin. Stu cursed and tried to grab her, and Billy realized that Y/n was still terrified for her life and wasn’t giving herself up.

“Fuck…!” Billy cursed, stumbling over.

He tried to grab her ankle, but the moment his hand ghosted over her ankle, she kicked. The man yelped. By then, Stu was sitting up and reaching toward her. Their movements were strained, and it was like they’d lost all focus and were flustered. They fucked up just enough to ruin their game plan.

Y/n, with tears streaming down her face, skidded across the floor on her knees. The moment she reached the corner of the wall, she used it to pull herself up. She paid the petty argument of her former friends echoing behind her, and it was like for a split second they forgot one of their victims was getting away. That is, until Y/n darted out of sight.

She was aiming for the patio door. But, suddenly, The taller, lankier form that she now recognized as Stu full throttled himself into the glass. It didn’t break, but he’d successfully - although rather panicked - blocked the escape route. Another scream threatened to release, but by then, she knew destroying her throat would yield no results. All she knew was that two psychos were trying to kill her.

She swerved, only to realize that Billy had bent over and picked up the kitchen knife. He was directly standing in the hallway, leaving her with only one route. Billy turned it over in his hand as if to admire the shiny red coat it now adorned, although his gaze was glued to her form.

“Y/n,” Stu purred from behind her, his footsteps no longer muted. “Where are ya tryin’ to go, babe?”

Y/n’s teeth grit together, and she couldn’t help but glance at Dylan’s corpse. ‘Run,’ his voice echoed in her head. His final words had been that of a warning. A fearful, knowing warning. Y/n was so very conflicted. She wanted her brother back and was completely exhausted and betrayed and hurt and… But she also had a primal instinct to survive.

“I think we gave her quite a fright, Stu,” Billy snickered.

Shivers rolled down her spine. Slowly but surely, both men had been closing in in her. Stu was but a few feet behind, his moves oddly calculated in comparison to his clumsy persona. And Billy… he was even slower. He lurked near the hallway just in case, knife glinting menacingly in the darkness.

“W - why are you doing this?” she squeaked fearfully, clenching her fists.

“You really don’t know? God, you’re less observant than shit for brains over there.”

Her heart thumped erratically in her chest. When Billy took one more step toward her, the woman was left with her fight or flight response. And she was tired and scared and confused. So, without a second to spare, she shrieked out of fright and ran like a maniac toward the stairs. Both men let out bellowing, cruel laughter.

Perhaps she was too loud, but she could barely hear them pursuing. She went to her bedroom, swinging the door open. It was shrouded in darkness, and as she turned to slam the door, an arm shot through. She slammed it anyways, and Stu let out a yawp of agony.

His arm slid slightly, but Y/n continued to attempt to force the door shut. She wasn’t too strong, but Stu was desperate. Only his hand was still lodged between, and he continued to flail and bang on the door. Somehow, he still seemed so Stu-like. Not angry in the slightest. Just confused and cheerful, like he was at school.

Well, at least, that was until he opened his mouth.

“Billy, goddammit! Get your sorry ass up here and help before I skin you alive!”

He was roaring at the top of his lungs. He was still grunting out of pain. Y/n pushed with all her might against the door, profusely sweating. She felt so weak, especially when a second fist began banging at the door. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Open the door or you’ll fucking regret it, Y/n! There’s no getting out of this!”

A fearful squeak escaped and she pushed herself further. All of a sudden, though, Billy’s banging stopped. She feared for the worst digging her bare feet into the floor of her once comforting and lovely bedroom. All of a sudden her body swung away as Billy threw himself against the door. A scream escaped as she fell back onto the floor, aches covering her entire body.

The door burst open and slammed into the wall. The two cloaked figures hovered threateningly in the doorway. Stu pulled up his lanky sleeve, and Y/n noticed that the door did a number. Much of the skin on his arm was torn. However, when he raised his head, she could tell he was glaring at her through his ghoulish mask. And Billy…

He was panting furiously. His shoulders heaved with every breath, and the grip on his knife was deathly tight. Some of the cloak had torn under miscellaneous circumstances, and a white teeshirt barely peaked through the cut. Y/n watched his movements particularly, because Billy had a weapon and as far as she knew, he aimed to use it.

She continued to scoot backwards on her butt until she hit the wall right beside her bed. She gulped, her mouth dry. Her entire body trembled with fear and she squeezed her eyes shut in fear. She was going to die. Today was the end of her life.

If heaven was real, she could only hope she ended up there.

Her eyes shot open once more as the floorboards creaked and in they came. Stu was still cradling his bare arm, so Billy shut and locked the door behind him. Their movements were slow. Sadistic. They were calculating every move. It baffled Y/n to no end that her two goofball best friends were capable of murder. And that she was on the list.

It honestly hurt. Her head pounded with misery as she accepted her fate. Her nails, which previously dug into the wall behind her, now lowered and her shoulders drooped expectantly. Her neck craned, watching their every move. She was watching and waiting, just like they were doing.

It was cruel of them to milk every ounce of fear from her. She thought her friendship would mean more to them.

“Aw, would you look at that, Billy,” Stu cooed mockingly. “She’s all scared and frightened. Don’t worry, baby, we aren’t going to hurt you, are we, Billy?”

“Mhm,” Billy hummed. “We were just scaring you a little, doll. You don’t really think we’d gut you like everyone else, huh?”

Y/n blinked in confusion, exchanging glances between the pair. They were slowly advancing toward her huddled, terrified form. Y/n pulled her knees to her chest reluctantly, trying to create more distance. However, when they were looming over her, both crouched down. She was completely cornered.

Billy raised the knife, gently ghosting it underneath her jawline. Y/n kept tilting her head further upwards until she couldn’t, but the knife didn’t press any further. It was but a pinch at her flesh. More tears spilled and Stu cooed quietly, gloved hand reaching toward his mask.

He removed it, revealing his expression. He wasn’t angry anymore. However, a mocking, pitiful pout was prominent on his lips. The mask plopped to the ground and both figures were drowning in their large cloaks. As the knife remained, Billy did the same, revealing his smug expression. He looked so happy.

“What’s wrong, doll? Why aren’t you talking to us, huh?”

Y/n gulped, feeling the blade graze against her throat as her flesh bobbed. A frown tugged at her lips and she couldn’t help but cast her gaze away, focusing instead on her knee cap. Her heart was deafeningly loud and she couldn’t help but wonder if the crazed maniacs heard it too.

“Aw, baby, don’t be giving us the silent treatment here. What’s on your mind?”

For some reason, that was what set her off. Through gritted teeth, she boomed,” Just get it over with, assholes! S - stop toying with me!”

It was like both of them froze in their place. Stu’s dimpled grin faded and his eyes dulled in a deep irritation. His face was long and forlorn eyes glaring over her body slowly. Billy, on the other hand, was just as calm. The only indication of a change in emotion was the narrowing of his eyes and the twitch of his small smirk.

Y/n shut her eyes, expecting for the knife to dig into her throat. Especially when Billy dragged it down her throat and down to her collarbone. It lingered right there over the exposed flesh, poking it tauntingly. At the same time, though, Y/n’s attention flitted over to Stu.

She’d never seen him so serious before. With one quick tug, Stu had pulled his glove off, revealing his hand. Gently, so very gently, his hand raised to her cheek. His eyes roamed every inch of her expression and his thumb rubbed circles across her cheek. If not for the looming threat of the knife digging into her skin, she would’ve jerked away. But, instead, she tried to tilt her head, although it yielded no such helpful results.

Noticing, Stu bit the inside of his lip and furrowed his brows. “I’m starting to feel kinda bad, Billy. You sure we didn’t take it too far —?”

Stu had seemingly set him off and Billy’s knife-wielding hand jerked back. He glared venomously at the man, a sneer breaking onto his face. “Are you fucking with me, Stu? We’re right here at the end of the plan and you feel bad? Don’t tell me you were okay with just watching the way those assholes looked at her —“

“No, no, not that! I just mean… Maybe we should’ve been a little smoother and chloroformed her first.”

Billy’s anger faded and he tilted his head in consideration, eyes rolled back in their sockets slightly. “…Huh. Maybe. But does it matter? We’re here now.”

The entire time, Y/n was watching the interaction warily. Her brain was churning with an explanation. She knew that they were toying with her. But the moment chloroform entered the conversation, her imagination lit up with any explanation as to what would happen.

Were they planning to… torture her? But what did she ever do wrong?

She blinked away some spilled tears and Billy glanced back at her. He clicked his tongue and tossed the knife over his shoulder entirely. It clinked somewhere else in the bedroom. His hand, which was gloveless in a moment’s notice, moved to her cheek, too. Stu’s grip became tighter and his thumb stopped, watching Billy’s action tensely.

Billy quickly, almost irritatedly, wiped away the tears from her under her eye. There was a silence that fell over as the pair just watched. And she watched back, weary and emotionally exhausted. She wished, with ever fiber of her being that they would change their minds about whatever they planned to do and just gave her an easy death.

“Why…”

Their eyes narrowed in sync, prodding further. “Why what, baby?” Stu muttered curiously.

Y/n gulped, trying to conjure up an ending to the question she didn’t want to know the answer to.

“Why do you hate me so much? I - I thought we were… friends…”

Stu’s jaw dropped dramatically and regretfully, while Billy was much better at controlling his shock, his brows raising. There was a stunned silence for but a moment, the pair exchanging glances. They almost seemed to regret what they were doing. But Y/n knew better. They planned it out so much, and they’d taken so great a glee of draining her brother’s body of life.

Billy, as his tongue rolled across his bottom lip, answered,” Oh, doll. We didn’t mean to scare you that bad. We don’t hate you, do we, Stu?”

“No, no, no,” Stu chimed, as though Y/n had asked the most abhorrent question humanly possible. He was stuttering so innocently that it confused her. “How could we ever hate you, baby? You don’t really think we’re trying to hurt you, do you? W - we’d never do that, baby. We were just tying to scare you —“

“You killed my brother! My friends!” Y/n suddenly shrieked, finding the willpower to swipe at both of their filthy paws.

But the moment she did so, a sense of horror paralyzed her. Stu’s face fell, although there was clearly a seething anger underneath. His glare was harsh as he gripped onto her wrist, painfully so. Y/n had to prevent a yelp of pain from escaping, biting her lip tightly.

Billy, though, wouldn’t stand for it. His fury bubbled over and his hand shot out to her throat. It hurt for but a moment, as he was clearly trying not to squeeze the living daylights out of her. But his hands were trembling. No, his entire body was. The fury was overflowing, and yet his glare was seemingly looking right through her.

Y/n clasped onto his wrist tightly, lips blubbering fearfully.

Billy finally hissed,” It’s what’s good for you. You don’t even know how cruel it was for you to prance around high school for everyone else to ogle at. They aren’t worthy. Nobody is. Not your brother, not your friends, not that stupid jock that flirted with you. Do you understand?”

Stu, his voice just as low and threatening, added,” You’re our’s, baby. We ain’t letting anyone getting in the way, got it? Not even you.”

Y/n’s fragile heart shattered. She understood, and yet, at the same time she didn’t. It was like puzzle pieces she didn’t know existed clicked together. It seemed so irrational. Every word they spoke was total bullshit to her. And yet…

She always blamed it on them being that great of friends. She brushed off the fact that Billy was touchier with her than he ever was with Sidney. And Stu barely took his eyes off her when she was around. They constantly sought her out. They constantly drowned her in compliments. They helped her and comforted her.

She always assumed that it was because they were friends. They’d known each other for so long that…

“But… what about…”

Billy snorted in disdain. “Sidney’s just some whore like her mother was. Nobody is a worthy basis of comparison for you, so stop spewing bullshit —“

Stu, noticing how his harsh words frightened the woman before them, warily overpowered his voice until Billy shut up. “W - what we mean to say, baby, is they just ain’t worth our time. You’re all we really care about, baby. Who cares about Tatum or Sidney or anyone when nobody else is as perfect as you? You’re just the sweetest angel on earth, okay, baby?”

Much to Stu’s dismay, it was clear that his soft explanation only frightened her further. Y/n began shaking her head wildly and Billy withdrew his hand from her throat. Stu released her, too, and the pair watched in frustrated silence as she buried her head in her knees, breaking out into loud, echoing sobs.

Amidst the echoing cries, Stu sighed. “See, Billy? Now I just feel bad. Can we just, uh, take her home?”

Billy hummed in agreement, and the inquiry made Y/n seize up in horror. She raised her head with wide doe eyes, shrinking even further into the wall as Billy fished through the pocket of his cloak in annoyance. Neither of them were happy.

While Stu’s delusional and crazed mind thought things would go smoother and that she’d understand, Billy knew better. But, in all honesty, he didn’t care if she hated their guts. As long as she was their’s, he couldn’t give a rat’s ass what she thought about them. The only thing they agreed on was that, sooner or later, she’d come around to their affection.

So, Billy withdrew a soaked white cloth from his pocket. It smelled horrible, and Y/n’s nose picked up on it instantly. She went to push away Billy’s hand, but Stu’s fingers tangled around her wrists, restraining her. Right before the cloth pressed to her mouth, she let out the mightiest scream she could muster.

And then, downstairs, alone, abandoned, and hurt, Dylan stirred. He gulped, immediately letting out a quiet gasp as the memories flooded him. He awoke to a scream and his blood ran cold. After that, the house became deadly silent. He feared for the worst. So, even amidst the agony his wounds thrust upon him, he forced himself up.

His hands guided him along the walls of the house, his only support as the other hand immediately went to clutch at the stab wound. All he saw was red, and the beating of his heart was slow and labored. In the distance, he swore he heard police sirens, but he also recognized that in his dying state, it could be his mind conjuring up hallucinations.

He crawled up the stairs on his hands and knees, labored pants escaping. It was so hard to breathe. He was positive that he was crying and sweating blood. But he just needed to make sure his baby sister was okay. And, as he progressed even slower up the steps, he found himself using but his arms to pull himself up. He lost all feeling in his legs.

And then, he arrived at the top. He couldn’t even push himself up. He could but claw himself along the floor, his heart slowing with every passing minute. And then as he pulled himself into the doorway, he saw it with his last, dying breath.

Absolutely nothing but an open window.

A knife.

And two ghost face masks adjacent to one another.

Tags :

yandere yandere slashers yandere x reader yandere billy loomis yandere stu macher

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ngai

2 years ago

Yandere Scream Drabble 2 pt. 3

Word count ; 4.1k

*Edited.

Keep reading

Tags :

yandere yandere x reader yandere slashers yandere scream yandere billy loomis yandere stu macher yandere oneshot yandere horror

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ngai

2 years ago

Yandere Scream Drabble 2 pt.4

Word count ; 4.5

*Edited.

Keep reading

Tags :

yandere yandere x reader yandere slashers yandere scream yandere billy loomis yandere stu macher

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ngai

2 years ago

I know that this is too much to ask, but can you do B, O, and E for yandere killua?

Blood - If they’re extreme, how messy are they willing to get?

Killua is a cold-blooded assassin with a soft spot for those he holds dear. Anyone that doesn’t fall into that category is a potential enemy in his mind.

Blood and gore don’t faze him in the slightest, so he’s willing to get as messy as it takes to instill fear in his enemies.

He would never hurt his darling, however. Spilling her blood might actually be one of his worst fears.

Earnest - How intense are they?

He’s very much a mild yandere. When he’s around his darling or friends, he acts like a normal boy.

However, when Killua gets serious, his bloodlust is practically tangible. Luckily, this anger is never directed at his darling or his friends, but rather at their enemies.

Otherwise, he’s not intense at all towards his darling. The only exception might be if she betrayed his or his friends’ trust, in which case, he’d get angry at her for once – but not enough to kill or hurt her.

Oppression - How many rights would they take away from you?

Unlike most yanderes, It’s unlikely that Killua would take away any rights from his darling. The thought of confining or kidnapping her might cross his mind at some point, but he’d never carry it out, especially considering what he had to endure during his childhood.

If she got close to him in the first place, Killua probably views her as a valued friend whose trust he wishes to maintain – even at the cost of his life.

Tags :

yandere killua yandere killua x reader yandere x reader yandere x you yandere yandere scenario yandere imagines

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ngai

2 years ago

Haha this fits illumi Needle - “Sweetheart, I have to mark you. How else is everyone gonna know you’re mine?”

Trigger warnings: blood, violence (graphic descriptions of torture)

Illumi Zoldyck

It shouldn’t have surprised you that Illumi Zoldyck was good at sewing human flesh, but each scream that tore through your tender throat said otherwise, and it was quickly wearing on the monster’s nerves.

“Be still.” He chastised, voice devoid of any emotion besides annoyance. This was for your own good, yet you were acting indignantly ungrateful, like a child that thinks they don’t deserve whatever punishment brought upon them. “I have to mark you”, he continued, pulling the needle through your rough skin as its red thread followed suit. “How else will everyone know you’re mine?”

You whimpered as the thread tightened under your skin with each tug, feeling almost like insects were crawling just below the outer most layer of your already-battered skin. You wanted to plead with him to stop, as you’d tried countless times for the past twenty minutes, but your throat had run dry and raw from the wear you’d put your vocal chords through. All you could manage was a weak croak, followed by more whimpers every time his needle pierced a new patch of skin.

“Shh, it will be over soon.” You watched, horrified, as his lips erupted into a sadistic grin made far more terrifying by his abyssal black eyes. He gently, carefully, stroked your cheek, taking fresh stray tears with his thumb. “A shame though. You’re so beautiful when you’re crying.”

The needle tore into your skin again, but it didn’t feel nearly as painful as the first few incisions. Perhaps it was the way your flesh burned as if screaming for relief or the way your veins pumped with adrenaline that you could do nothing with. He was far more cunning, far more sadistic, far more powerful than anything you could muster in a fruitless attempt to run away.

Illumi leaned back, pulling the thread taut as he did so, before tying the end and admiring his handiwork. Coagulated blood pooled around the tiny incisions of your chest along with trails of fresh and dry blood pooling around your collar bone or rolling down your abdomen. You looked beautiful painted in red, but he needed to treat your wounds before they got infected. With a heavy sigh, he stopped straddling your hips and leaped off, his long arms easily helping you sit up in the blood-stained bed.

“I will call the family doctor. In the meantime…” he impatiently picked up a hand-mirror and placed it in your weak hands, another eerie smile on his features. “Feel free to admire your new… tattoo.”

When he left, you finally allowed your eyes to open. You didn’t want to look, but the stinging sensation in your chest practically pleaded you to mourn the way he tainted your flesh.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but your stomach still dropped upon seeing what he’d done to you. A name tag. One befitting a lost pet, even.

‘Property of Illumi Zoldyck’.

Tags :

yandere illumi zoldyck yandere illumi yandere illumi zoldyck x reader yandere hxh x reader yandere x reader yandere x you yandere yandere scenario yandere imagines

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ngai

2 years ago

Yay they're open! EGH for Hisoka pretty please? ♡♡

Other alphabet headcanons: Attribute, Stalker, and Xenophobia

Trigger warnings: mentions of violence (torture)

Hisoka Morow

Game - How much do they enjoy watching you run and have a fearful expression?

Oh he loves it, so long as his darling deserves it of course. If she’s been bad, he’ll happily play around with her fear and threaten to mortally wound her.

However, Hisoka isn’t that much of a sadist when it comes to his beloved. If she accepts his affections, all is well. He’ll act as normal as ever around her, though his teasing may get more intense – but he’d never hurt her if it’s not warranted. Don’t get him wrong, although he does have a soft spot for her, he simply doesn’t want to break his toy too soon.

Earnest - Are they intense?

Much like his stalking, Hisoka’s general behavior around his darling isn’t the slightest bit intense. He simply enjoys teasing and playing with his darling. But, a more keen and naturally paranoid darling may find his constant stalking and eccentric personality highly alarming and too intense for their liking.

However, should his darling resist him too much (perhaps by trying to fight him, how cute!) or escape his affections, Hisoka wouldn’t hesitate to get aggressive and intense.

Hell - What would be your worst experience with them?

Now, if his darling does take the path of most resistance, the worst she can expect from him in a few broken bones and poison-laced threats accompanied by a nonchalant yet sadistic smile.

Until he’s certain that his darling will behave afterwards, he’ll constantly threaten tease her with another punishment session.

He doesn’t particularly elicit much pleasure from overtly hurting his beloved like this (as opposed to the immense pleasure hurting others gives him), but he won’t hesitate to use force to keep his love in check. After all, she’s his favorite toy, and toys don’t fight back.

Tags :

yandere hisoka morow yandere hisoka x reader yandere hisoka yandere hxh x reader yandere hxh yandere x reader yandere x you yandere yandere scenario yandere imagines

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ngai

2 years ago

OMG CEF for Pariston cause I love 🗑

We love all trash boys here, but by god is Pariston the king of trash. And honestly, it makes me love him more~

Cope - Do they try to deal with this jealousy sooner so they don’t lash out?

Oh not at all. No matter how painfully aware he is of his jealousy, the fact that his darling can elicit such feelings in him makes him want to hurt her more.

So yes, he would lash out – and he’d enjoy every second of it. He get pleasure from destroying the things he loves most, and what better opportunity than slowly destroying his precious darling?

Earnest - Are they intense?

Pariston is intense and cruel, even towards his darling whom he loves so dearly. Not only are his punishments harsh, he’s unpredictable and constantly leaves his darling in a state of paranoia and duress.

His “intensity” is a constant gamble. Some days, he’s markedly more empathetic and loving – other days, he’ll mercilessly beat or mentally torture his darling just for the fun of it.

Fight - How would they feel if you fought back against them?

Oh he’d be so amused! Although Pariston enjoys claiming to be weak – if only to make his darling think she has a fighting chance – he can easily keep up with Netero. His darling most likely doesn’t stand a chance against him.

Of course, it’s no fun if he immediately beats her down. He’d play around with her first, enjoying the way her hopes swell the longer he acts like he may lose.

Tags :

yandere pariston hill yandere pariston yandere pariston x reader yandere x reader yandere x you yandere yandere scenario yandere imagines

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ngai

2 years ago

OOO PARISTON AND ANGEL

Trigger warnings: violence (torture), mentions of killing, malnourishment

Pariston Hill

He loved the way that defiant look refused to leave your eyes no matter how many times his whip met your skin. He loved the way your screams faltered into hoarse gasps and desperate cries that echoed off his walls. He loved the way you hurt. You were his darling, a beloved angel sent from above by which he could enact his guilty pleasures. Was he going to hell for hurting such a divine being? Of course. But Pariston Hill was having the time of his life breaking such an exquisite toy.

“W-why….”, you sputtered, feeling blood rush up your throat and mix with your saliva. Talking sent a blinding pain shooting down your abdomen, but he had been torturing you for longer than usual today.

“Hm? Sorry I didn’t hear you.” His chirpy voice rung out to replace the otherwise silent room. Warm brown eyes cheerily narrowed downwards to meet yours, his mouth pulled into a merciless grin unbecoming of this situation. Within moments, you were pushed against the dungeon wall, his delicate hand lightly squeezing your neck. If he didn’t like your question, he’d snap your neck right there. “Care to repeat that, my dear?”

You hesitated. “Why are you doing this?” Your throat burned at those words, your eyes furthering blurring with thick tears. However, your tormentor stopped, his grip on the whip tightening. A confused look flashed across his face before his features composed themselves into its usual amused smirk.

“Why? What a peculiar question. I’m not entirely sure!” He chuckled, harshly pulling your chin upwards to meet his gaze. That sadistic look in his eyes made your stomach churn with what little food he’d graciously offered you two days ago. “Maybe it’s because this world doesn’t deserve an angel like you.”

You forced yourself not to spit in his face. “Yet it deserves a demon like you?”

“Oh you poor, misguided thing. This world is simply too good for you – you’re practically a sheep in a wolves den.” His laugh was louder this time, nearly making him hold his stomach out of pure joy. It’s as if you’d just told him the funniest joke in the world. “Don’t you get it, dear? That’s precisely why you need me. I’ll kill you before anyone else can taint your beauty. You should be grateful, angel!”

He let go of your neck, letting you crumple to the floor in a mass of blood and flesh. He gazed down at you with a paradoxical look of pure disgust and adoration, his icy expression betraying his “warm” smile.

“Now be a good girl and let me help you.”

Tags :

yandere pariston hill yandere pariston yandere pariston x reader yandere hunter x hunter yandere hxh x reader yandere hxh yandere x reader yandere x you yandere yandere scenario yandere imagines

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ngai

2 years ago

Prompt 55 + Subaru Sakamaki

Ah, another mild yandere~ He’s more so a protective yandere than anything, which isn’t really showcased in this piece, but oh well.

Trigger warnings: blood, very slightly NSFW

What part of “stay away from me” didn’t you understand? Even as you stood before him with a welcoming smile, Subaru was utterly amazed by how stupid you could be. Did you not realize that such a warning was for your own safety?

The vampire sighed and adjusted himself in his seat, careful to avoid his wounds, before glaring daggers at you. “What do you want?”

Gingerly and wordlessly closing his bedroom door, you glided over to him with fake bravado. He could see your legs trembling with each step, but your face gave away nothing. He drew a shaky breath when you joined him on his balcony and fearlessly took a seat next to him.

“…Are you going to answer me?”

Your gentle giggle unsettled him. With a heavy grunt, he looked away from your intense gaze. How could you be so carefree around him? Though, it’s not like he posed much of a threat right now considering his wounds.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re injured and can’t heal fast enough – you need blood.”

The surprise on his face was palpable, but quickly gave way to anger. “Are you crazy, woman?“

"Perhaps, but I want to be of use to you.”

“What use will you be if you’re dead?”

You softly cupped his cheek, your touch full of compassion and love. The sheer warmth of your hand nearly caught him off-guard, but he quickly shrugged you off. Despite his clear feelings, you simply laughed and returned your hand to his cold cheek, your voice as gentle as ever. “Don’t you understand? If I’m dead, that proves my blood was of use to you.”

He growled through grit teeth and slapped your hand away before returning his gaze to the courtyard below. You surveyed his frustrated expression and idly hummed before getting up and sitting on his lap, quick to bare your pristine and tender neck to him. You smiled upon hearing his breath hitch at your coquettish actions. If you were trying to seduce him, fuck… it was working.

“Take a bite.” You coaxed and looked down at him. He could easily throw you off and be meters away from you by now, but he was hesitating – and he hated every second of it. You knew he wanted it, or rather, needed it. He’d be a fool to turn you down when you were practically offering yourself up on a silver platter. “Please, Subar–aah!”

His fangs had already sunk into your skin before you could finish uttering his name, as much as he liked hearing it come from your lips. You controlled your breathing in an attempt to cope with the initial pain, though you were surprised the pain didn’t last quite as long this time. He was going easy on you, fearful and equally as careful to take the bare minimum.

“You…”, you managed through ragged breaths, idly tugging on his hair to capture his attention. He grunted at the way you pulled his hair taut, almost feeling a bit turned on. “You…can take more if you want.”

He hesitated against your skin, his mind struggling to get a grasp on his restraint. But the more you leaned into him and pushed his head further into your neck, the more he could feel his inhibitions slip between his fingers. It didn’t take long to come to a decision.

His fangs pierced the surface of your flesh, slightly tearing at the skin as blood pooled around the incision and ran down your collarbone. Fingernails dug into his back as you bit down on his shoulder to stifle your moans. But even muffled, your moans were like music to his ears. If he wasn’t injured, he wouldn’t be able to resist jumping you for more than your blood. A part of him was glad he couldn’t do more, simply because he didn’t want to risk hurting you more.

A sick part of you was enjoying this, but it didn’t take long for your moans to turn into anguished groans. You whimpered and weakly struggled against his grip, and part of him found himself enjoying your reaction… until he came to his senses.

“Shit!”

He was disgusted with himself, immediately retracting his fangs and pulling away to gauge your health. You stared back at him with a weak smile and slightly cloudy eyes, but you were alive. Subaru sighed in relief and pulled you in a tight embrace, resting his head on your shoulder to idly lick at your wound. You groaned in protest, but he disregarded you with a smile as he watched the wound slowly heal.

Pulling away, he looked at you with a look of disapproval. “You shouldn’t have tested my limits. I… I can’t control myself as well as my brothers.” He was a bit embarrassed admitting that last part, but there was no point hiding it now, not when you got a first hand experience of his inadequacy as the youngest brother.

“Heh, your brothers can control themselves? I’d pay to see that.” You deliriously mused and slumped against his body. Subaru chuckled against your shoulder and hugged you tighter, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms.

“I’m just glad you trusted me… Thank you.”

You didn’t hear his praise, but he didn’t miss the smile on your lips.

Tags :

yandere subaru x reader yandere subaru sakamaki yandere subaru sakamaki x reader yandere sakamaki subaru x reader yandere diabolik lovers yandere x reader yandere x you yandere yandere scenario yandere imagines

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