Yandere noble vampire who just came across you by pure accident. Actually, you came across him as a vampire hunter.
He could not care less about you since nothing really struck him about you... aside from the gun that's pointed directly at his head. He was going to leave you alone despite trespassing on his land but it looks like you aren't going to leave him alone.
"Are you gonna shoot?" he cocks his head to the right, making you grip your weapon tighter.
"I mean that's what I'm here for," you reply seriously.
"Pathetic," he rolls his eyes. "Who are you doing this for? The people? Would they even look twice at you?"
Your grasp falters. "What do you mean?"
"You spend all day pointing your gun and killing vampires but nobody really thanks you for it, right?" he grins, flashing his sharp fangs. "Sure, you're getting paid but your boss is the one getting all the credit for exterminating my kind."
"S-shut up!" you yell.
"Tell me, have you actually ever seen a vampire attack a human?" his gaze sharpy turns into one of boredomâ annoyance. "That's right, you haven't."
BANG!
You shoot once. Twice. And a final third time but when you finally look, he's gone.
"What the fuck?" he whispers next to your ear. "I thought we were having a nice chat,"
The hairs on your skin immediately stand up, fear coursing through your veins. "No, we weren't," you glare at him.
"That's no fun," he says. "But it's not like that was ever your goal."
Then it goes dark.
That was your introduction to him, and the variant of noble vampires. And also the last time you're ever going to have freedom.
Yandere noble vampire who just came across you by pure accident. Actually, you came across him as a vampire hunter.
He could not care less about you since nothing really struck him about you... aside from the gun that's pointed directly at his head. He was going to leave you alone despite trespassing on his land but it looks like you aren't going to leave him alone.
"Are you gonna shoot?" he cocks his head to the right, making you grip your weapon tighter.
"I mean that's what I'm here for," you reply seriously.
"Pathetic," he rolls his eyes. "Who are you doing this for? The people? Would they even look twice at you?"
Your grasp falters. "What do you mean?"
"You spend all day pointing your gun and killing vampires but nobody really thanks you for it, right?" he grins, flashing his sharp fangs. "Sure, you're getting paid but your boss is the one getting all the credit for exterminating my kind."
"S-shut up!" you yell.
"Tell me, have you actually ever seen a vampire attack a human?" his gaze sharpy turns into one of boredomâ annoyance. "That's right, you haven't."
BANG!
You shoot once. Twice. And a final third time but when you finally look, he's gone.
"What the fuck?" he whispers next to your ear. "I thought we were having a nice chat,"
The hairs on your skin immediately stand up, fear coursing through your veins. "No, we weren't," you glare at him.
"That's no fun," he says. "But it's not like that was ever your goal."
Then it goes dark.
That was your introduction to him, and the variant of noble vampires. And also the last time you're ever going to have freedom.
As if having Clark Kent as a captor wasn't enough, the billionaire playboyâ Bruce Wayneâ decided to enter into the picture.
Clark Kent is the type of yandere to kidnap you for protection. He truly believes with his whole heart that isolating you from the big, scary world is for your own benefit.
While Bruce is more of wanting company. He's all lonely in the Wayne manor and he finds himself gravitating towards you. All of a sudden, he knows everything about you from the size of your bra to your sleeping schedule. Even the smallest of mannerisms don't go unnoticed.
They're both psychopathic in their own ways.
Clark is more forgiving though. You escape? He'll just make you feel like the biggest piece of shit for doing that. Bruce would probably lock you up in a dark room alone to teach you a lesson.
But when you've done something truly wrong is where they both collide into the same mission: taming you.
As if having Clark Kent as a captor wasn't enough, the billionaire playboyâ Bruce Wayneâ decided to enter into the picture.
Clark Kent is the type of yandere to kidnap you for protection. He truly believes with his whole heart that isolating you from the big, scary world is for your own benefit.
While Bruce is more of wanting company. He's all lonely in the Wayne manor and he finds himself gravitating towards you. All of a sudden, he knows everything about you from the size of your bra to your sleeping schedule. Even the smallest of mannerisms don't go unnoticed.
They're both psychopathic in their own ways.
Clark is more forgiving though. You escape? He'll just make you feel like the biggest piece of shit for doing that. Bruce would probably lock you up in a dark room alone to teach you a lesson.
But when you've done something truly wrong is where they both collide into the same mission: taming you.
A yandere! prince who makes the whole kingdom search for you when you escape. The king and queen never understand his fascination with you but if it makes him happy, then they'll send the order.
Suddenly, the entirety of the population is searching for you everywhere because it's hell until you're found. Farmers stop farming, cooks stop cooking and inventors stop inventing. Everyone is forced to join the search.
All of them as a collective feel bad for you of course, but not enough to stop them from hating you. As much as they'd like to deny how trapped it must feel to constantly be under their control, it's still a much better life than most of the normal people. You've never had to touch a broom since you've stepped foot in the palace.
How dare you? You must feel really proud to make the people be forced into a manhunt for you, huh?
When they find you, everyone's furious.
Now, the only option for safety is back into the Prince's arms.
A yandere! prince who makes the whole kingdom search for you when you escape. The king and queen never understand his fascination with you but if it makes him happy, then they'll send the order.
Suddenly, the entirety of the population is searching for you everywhere because it's hell until you're found. Farmers stop farming, cooks stop cooking and inventors stop inventing. Everyone is forced to join the search.
All of them as a collective feel bad for you of course, but not enough to stop them from hating you. As much as they'd like to deny how trapped it must feel to constantly be under their control, it's still a much better life than most of the normal people. You've never had to touch a broom since you've stepped foot in the palace.
How dare you? You must feel really proud to make the people be forced into a manhunt for you, huh?
When they find you, everyone's furious.
Now, the only option for safety is back into the Prince's arms.
Content. You've been diagnosed with a "disease" and now you've finally figured out the truth.
Pairing. Yandere! Doctor x reader
Wc. 2.2k
The first time you met your doctor, he barely even paid any attention to you, at least thatâs what it looked like. Heâs tall, quiet, and mysterious, precisely like a guy from those dark romance books. Exactly the kind of man who had such a strong presence that could fill a room even when he said or did nothing. He could capture the attention of many without whispering even a syllable, that part was so fascinating to you.Â
Your doctor is a rather peculiar one. Heâs always been the type to be more secluded, alone rather than with the crowd. Though, in times of utter urgency, heâs there when needed. Heâs particularly famous for his successful medical history. Heâs adept, more competent and logical than any other doctor some would claim.
He wouldâve been easily forgotten if it werenât for his sheer size. He isnât overly muscular or bulky, but rather tall and slender. And some might even say heâs attractive⊠in a way. If it werenât for his eccentric nature, you would understand it.
Some patients even admitted to fake sickness to get an appointment with him. But youâll never understand. Heâs direct and straight-to-the-point, so even if you did somehow get a scheduled doctor's meeting with him, it would be the fastest in and out.Â
Itâd been only a year since youâd scheduled your first first meeting, only for it to end up with you being stuck in his office for hours and getting diagnosed with an incurable disease. Ever since then, youâve come to his office regularly for checkups. But the odd thing is⊠you never knew what it even was.
Whenever youâd ask anything, heâd always end as quickly as possible by ensuring you there was no time and it was too complicated but you should understand the dire consequences if you were to ignore it. Missing an appointment would be shooting yourself in the foot. Although there were no visible, distinct symptoms that signalled your âupcoming deathâ, you still blindly followed him.
Youâre stupid for believing in whatever he told you.
Stupid, I say. Stupid.
Youâve spent hours rotting in that cold, leathery chairâ waiting for something. Anything. Yet it always ended with the same result. Treatments never did anything. To the point youâve decided on accepting it over arguing about it.
It never crossed your mind; he didnât seem like the type.
January 23rd. Officially 1 year and 1 month since youâve been âdiagnosedâ.
Itâs check up day.
Snowing and cold as usual, you put your winter coat on and got on your way to walk, a scarf wrapped comfortably around your neck, yet it still felt cold. He said it was due to your malfunctioning homeostasis, one of the many symptoms that come with your illness.Â
With every little step you took, you couldnât help but feel anxious about the treatment youâre about to receive. Itâs been a little over a year now and you havenât gotten better, despite not feeling even the slightest ounce of change in your body.
Itâs awful⊠isnât it?
Thatâs the question heâd always asked you when he showed you what could happen to you if you didnât take the pills he gave you. Always the same worrying yet cold sentence that shook you to your core. His voice always a flat line, barely emphasising the catastrophe youâve been at war with.
The hospital he worked at was relatively small, catering only for the people in your small town. Thereâs only two floors, first being for mild injuries or cases and second for more major ones. Youâre usually sent to the second one, where your doctorâs office is.Â
âAhh⊠good morning [name],â the receptionist calls you, placing the needed files onto the counter as per the usual routine.Â
Most of the staff has already memorised your presence, what time you come and how many minutes youâd usually take. Itâs pretty much become the norm for you to come and go from the hospital. Everything was routine and youâve familiarised yourself with it enough to be able to do most of it without any mistakes.
âI hope you get well soon [name].â Her gaze softens as she meets your eyes.
Your hands grab the folder filled with the long history of appointments, and you reply: âThank you. I hope so too.â
They, as well as you, had gotten so used to the routine it became technically second nature. Even without realising, theyâd sometimes grab your folder by accident and placed it onto the counter where you usually grabbed it from on a day when you didnât even have an appointment.
You took a deep breath before opening the door to your doctorâs office, only able to anticipate whatâs coming.Â
âGood morning [name],â he greets, not batting an eye but analysing your brain scan. He was taking notes and jotted it all down in his notebook before he would eventually type it.Â
âSoo⊠is it any better?â You ask.
He doesnât respond. As usual, he doesnât respond. Itâs never struck you the right way with how he barely shares any specific details.
âYour health is stabilising, but itâs not good enough for you to function as well as a normal person.â He states coldly.Â
Thatâs⊠good⊠I guess.
âHow much longer does this treatment have to be? Is it really worââ you ask, immediately silenced by the glare he gives.
He adjusts the position of his glasses, pushing it up slightly on his nose bridge with two fingers on the sides, before looking up to see your face. âItâs working; I promise. I know itâs been a long year but it wonât take any longer⊠I hope.â
âMe too.â you mutter accidentally, but it was too quiet of a whisper for anyone to hear.
He gently and meticulously picks up the syringe before flicking it a couple times to remove the air bubbles from the container. He carefully inspects the syringe for a few moments and when he deems it ready, he uses the sharp part to pierce through and pushes the plunger, slowly injecting the liquid into your bloodstream.
Finally, after the long moments of the needle penetrating your skin, he pulls it out and places it onto a tray. A bandaid is immediately stuck onto your skin the moment the needle leaves.Â
âThanks doc,â you mutter. âIâm really glad I have you, I canât imagine having to face this with an incompetent doctor.â
His pupil dilates ever so slightly. âYouâre welcome. Iâm glad too.â
Heâs never reciprocated your affection as the usual person. A normal person wouldâve been a bit flustered, but heâs more shocked than embarrassed.Â
Thatâs what you find so fascinating about such a man. Maybe he really is just that sophisticated and passionate about his work.
But youâve never understood the hype around him. Heâs stoic and cold; He doesnât seem to be type to date either.Â
Thereâs only so much you can wonder and never get the answers to. Maybe itâs his attractiveness. Heâs got everything that people usually deem to be attractive features like a high nose bridge, hunter eyes or whatever and heâs tall.
The metallic clatter sound brings you back into reality as he starts to look through the metal cart beside you full of medical tools, hands pushing it around to get better angles, and his brows furrow when he realises that what he needs isnât there.
âStay here. I need to get something from the staff room.â he orders you, placing down his clipboard onto his desk.Â
âOkay,â you respond.
5 minutes pass and he never comes back.
Then another additional 5 minutes pass and thereâs no sign of him.
What could possibly take him so long?
You could only wonder. But the sudden curiosity struck you. Heâs always so hyper focused on his computer and you canât help but want to know what it contains. Heâs never actually told you what illness or sickness you have, so maybe he stores it inside the computer.
When you sat down on his dark, leather chair, the computer was on the home page. There were several files with many different names and labels. Then you spot a familiar name in the bottom left corner.Â
Doctor Malcom Kyrenâs
You hovered over the icon, biting your lip as you debated on invading his privacy. But itâs valid if it was just to check your data right⊠so you clicked on the file with his name. Various unrecognisable names popped up, but you spotted some you knew like your friendly neighbour and teacher from high school. It was lovely to see just how many people came to him for help⊠but you canât help and wonder if you were the only one stuck in your position.
â[Name].â The stern voice of your beloved doctor woke you up, making you flinch in response.
âIs this really what youâve been doingâ please donât tell me itâs all been fake. The treatment, the illnessââ you took sharp inhales in between your speech, lips quivering and tears streaming down your face like a waterfall with no end.
Youâve never felt so alone before. Because of your so-called âillnessâ, you canât go out as much, you canât interact with others too much or theyâll get infected, you canât. Everything he told you was a lie. It was all fabricated so he could isolate you from the people you love, only so he could play savior and fill the hole in by himself. So many hours that youâve wasted on appointments. So many hours he took from you.
The room twisted in your vision, walls warping in and out, tears fogging your eyes.Â
â[Name]!â he yelled, gripping your shoulders so tightly they would bruise the skin. âI did this all for you!â
You tried to squirm out of his grasp but he didnât let go of you, but the look in his eyes scared you to death. âNoâ! You did this for yourself. To keep me here. Was the medicine even medicine? Was the prescription even real?â
The same blue eyes that everyone adored seemed evil to you. Itâs supposed to be a glimmering set but itâs not. âItâs all real. I did this all to protect youâ to save you.â
âProtect me from what? The imaginary illness you created in your mind or from your own fantasies?â you kicked his leg and escaped, rushing towards the door to escape, the keys slotted into the keyhole jingling as you tried to twist it. Your hands shook desperately, tears emerging in the corner of your eyes.
He groaned in pain but nonetheless, he got up to retrieve you. You finally got the key open when he was only an inch or two away from you. Dashing out into the hallways, you notice itâs night. Heartbeats thud in your mind, and it felt like something was squeezing your brain so tightly.
Thereâs no one around. The lights are all off and since itâs not necessarily a 24/7 type of hospital, thereâs no workers either.Â
From what you remember, itâs supposed to be around 10am in the morning⊠what? Has time completely sped up?Â
The hallways were dark, and you couldnât see any sign of the end. It only seemed to stretch on longer and longer the more you ran through it.Â
Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you continued running, ignoring the cramps in your leg and blisters forming from it. Finally, at last, you saw a lightâ a shimmery moonlight and you dashed towards it.Â
Hands wrapped around the handle, you tugged. Hard. But it was locked. Then you pulled, this time using all your body weight. Doesnât work either.
The sounds of your doctorâs shoes echoes grew louder and louder as he neared the entrance you were at.Â
âHELP!â you yelled as a last ditch effort, slamming your hand hard on the glass door multiple times in hopes that someone hears it. âPLEASE!â
Itâs the handkerchief landing on your mouth that suffocates you into unconsciousness.Â
~
Eyes fluttering open, beams of light hit your face that force your eyes shut back again. It didnât take long for you to feel your arms and legs bound to a medical chair.Â
You shook roughly in your seat. Then you let out a blood curdling scream, which is only muffled by the gag in your mouth.
Suddenly thereâs a hand that places itself onto yours. âPlease stay calm [name], this procedure will only take a while.â
You shook your head, eyes shot open in fear. âMMHHHH!â
âI didnât want to have to do this, but if it comes to it, I will. Close your eyes and forget today [name].â he says softly, as if trying to comfort you.
The injection seems to have heightened your senses before completely turning all of them off in your body. Everything goes black, and you soon pass out on the chair you're bound and stuck to.
Content. You've been diagnosed with a "disease" and now you've finally figured out the truth.
Pairing. Yandere! Doctor x reader
Wc. 2.2k
The first time you met your doctor, he barely even paid any attention to you, at least thatâs what it looked like. Heâs tall, quiet, and mysterious, precisely like a guy from those dark romance books. Exactly the kind of man who had such a strong presence that could fill a room even when he said or did nothing. He could capture the attention of many without whispering even a syllable, that part was so fascinating to you.Â
Your doctor is a rather peculiar one. Heâs always been the type to be more secluded, alone rather than with the crowd. Though, in times of utter urgency, heâs there when needed. Heâs particularly famous for his successful medical history. Heâs adept, more competent and logical than any other doctor some would claim.
He wouldâve been easily forgotten if it werenât for his sheer size. He isnât overly muscular or bulky, but rather tall and slender. And some might even say heâs attractive⊠in a way. If it werenât for his eccentric nature, you would understand it.
Some patients even admitted to fake sickness to get an appointment with him. But youâll never understand. Heâs direct and straight-to-the-point, so even if you did somehow get a scheduled doctor's meeting with him, it would be the fastest in and out.Â
Itâd been only a year since youâd scheduled your first first meeting, only for it to end up with you being stuck in his office for hours and getting diagnosed with an incurable disease. Ever since then, youâve come to his office regularly for checkups. But the odd thing is⊠you never knew what it even was.
Whenever youâd ask anything, heâd always end as quickly as possible by ensuring you there was no time and it was too complicated but you should understand the dire consequences if you were to ignore it. Missing an appointment would be shooting yourself in the foot. Although there were no visible, distinct symptoms that signalled your âupcoming deathâ, you still blindly followed him.
Youâre stupid for believing in whatever he told you.
Stupid, I say. Stupid.
Youâve spent hours rotting in that cold, leathery chairâ waiting for something. Anything. Yet it always ended with the same result. Treatments never did anything. To the point youâve decided on accepting it over arguing about it.
It never crossed your mind; he didnât seem like the type.
January 23rd. Officially 1 year and 1 month since youâve been âdiagnosedâ.
Itâs check up day.
Snowing and cold as usual, you put your winter coat on and got on your way to walk, a scarf wrapped comfortably around your neck, yet it still felt cold. He said it was due to your malfunctioning homeostasis, one of the many symptoms that come with your illness.Â
With every little step you took, you couldnât help but feel anxious about the treatment youâre about to receive. Itâs been a little over a year now and you havenât gotten better, despite not feeling even the slightest ounce of change in your body.
Itâs awful⊠isnât it?
Thatâs the question heâd always asked you when he showed you what could happen to you if you didnât take the pills he gave you. Always the same worrying yet cold sentence that shook you to your core. His voice always a flat line, barely emphasising the catastrophe youâve been at war with.
The hospital he worked at was relatively small, catering only for the people in your small town. Thereâs only two floors, first being for mild injuries or cases and second for more major ones. Youâre usually sent to the second one, where your doctorâs office is.Â
âAhh⊠good morning [name],â the receptionist calls you, placing the needed files onto the counter as per the usual routine.Â
Most of the staff has already memorised your presence, what time you come and how many minutes youâd usually take. Itâs pretty much become the norm for you to come and go from the hospital. Everything was routine and youâve familiarised yourself with it enough to be able to do most of it without any mistakes.
âI hope you get well soon [name].â Her gaze softens as she meets your eyes.
Your hands grab the folder filled with the long history of appointments, and you reply: âThank you. I hope so too.â
They, as well as you, had gotten so used to the routine it became technically second nature. Even without realising, theyâd sometimes grab your folder by accident and placed it onto the counter where you usually grabbed it from on a day when you didnât even have an appointment.
You took a deep breath before opening the door to your doctorâs office, only able to anticipate whatâs coming.Â
âGood morning [name],â he greets, not batting an eye but analysing your brain scan. He was taking notes and jotted it all down in his notebook before he would eventually type it.Â
âSoo⊠is it any better?â You ask.
He doesnât respond. As usual, he doesnât respond. Itâs never struck you the right way with how he barely shares any specific details.
âYour health is stabilising, but itâs not good enough for you to function as well as a normal person.â He states coldly.Â
Thatâs⊠good⊠I guess.
âHow much longer does this treatment have to be? Is it really worââ you ask, immediately silenced by the glare he gives.
He adjusts the position of his glasses, pushing it up slightly on his nose bridge with two fingers on the sides, before looking up to see your face. âItâs working; I promise. I know itâs been a long year but it wonât take any longer⊠I hope.â
âMe too.â you mutter accidentally, but it was too quiet of a whisper for anyone to hear.
He gently and meticulously picks up the syringe before flicking it a couple times to remove the air bubbles from the container. He carefully inspects the syringe for a few moments and when he deems it ready, he uses the sharp part to pierce through and pushes the plunger, slowly injecting the liquid into your bloodstream.
Finally, after the long moments of the needle penetrating your skin, he pulls it out and places it onto a tray. A bandaid is immediately stuck onto your skin the moment the needle leaves.Â
âThanks doc,â you mutter. âIâm really glad I have you, I canât imagine having to face this with an incompetent doctor.â
His pupil dilates ever so slightly. âYouâre welcome. Iâm glad too.â
Heâs never reciprocated your affection as the usual person. A normal person wouldâve been a bit flustered, but heâs more shocked than embarrassed.Â
Thatâs what you find so fascinating about such a man. Maybe he really is just that sophisticated and passionate about his work.
But youâve never understood the hype around him. Heâs stoic and cold; He doesnât seem to be type to date either.Â
Thereâs only so much you can wonder and never get the answers to. Maybe itâs his attractiveness. Heâs got everything that people usually deem to be attractive features like a high nose bridge, hunter eyes or whatever and heâs tall.
The metallic clatter sound brings you back into reality as he starts to look through the metal cart beside you full of medical tools, hands pushing it around to get better angles, and his brows furrow when he realises that what he needs isnât there.
âStay here. I need to get something from the staff room.â he orders you, placing down his clipboard onto his desk.Â
âOkay,â you respond.
5 minutes pass and he never comes back.
Then another additional 5 minutes pass and thereâs no sign of him.
What could possibly take him so long?
You could only wonder. But the sudden curiosity struck you. Heâs always so hyper focused on his computer and you canât help but want to know what it contains. Heâs never actually told you what illness or sickness you have, so maybe he stores it inside the computer.
When you sat down on his dark, leather chair, the computer was on the home page. There were several files with many different names and labels. Then you spot a familiar name in the bottom left corner.Â
Doctor Malcom Kyrenâs
You hovered over the icon, biting your lip as you debated on invading his privacy. But itâs valid if it was just to check your data right⊠so you clicked on the file with his name. Various unrecognisable names popped up, but you spotted some you knew like your friendly neighbour and teacher from high school. It was lovely to see just how many people came to him for help⊠but you canât help and wonder if you were the only one stuck in your position.
â[Name].â The stern voice of your beloved doctor woke you up, making you flinch in response.
âIs this really what youâve been doingâ please donât tell me itâs all been fake. The treatment, the illnessââ you took sharp inhales in between your speech, lips quivering and tears streaming down your face like a waterfall with no end.
Youâve never felt so alone before. Because of your so-called âillnessâ, you canât go out as much, you canât interact with others too much or theyâll get infected, you canât. Everything he told you was a lie. It was all fabricated so he could isolate you from the people you love, only so he could play savior and fill the hole in by himself. So many hours that youâve wasted on appointments. So many hours he took from you.
The room twisted in your vision, walls warping in and out, tears fogging your eyes.Â
â[Name]!â he yelled, gripping your shoulders so tightly they would bruise the skin. âI did this all for you!â
You tried to squirm out of his grasp but he didnât let go of you, but the look in his eyes scared you to death. âNoâ! You did this for yourself. To keep me here. Was the medicine even medicine? Was the prescription even real?â
The same blue eyes that everyone adored seemed evil to you. Itâs supposed to be a glimmering set but itâs not. âItâs all real. I did this all to protect youâ to save you.â
âProtect me from what? The imaginary illness you created in your mind or from your own fantasies?â you kicked his leg and escaped, rushing towards the door to escape, the keys slotted into the keyhole jingling as you tried to twist it. Your hands shook desperately, tears emerging in the corner of your eyes.
He groaned in pain but nonetheless, he got up to retrieve you. You finally got the key open when he was only an inch or two away from you. Dashing out into the hallways, you notice itâs night. Heartbeats thud in your mind, and it felt like something was squeezing your brain so tightly.
Thereâs no one around. The lights are all off and since itâs not necessarily a 24/7 type of hospital, thereâs no workers either.Â
From what you remember, itâs supposed to be around 10am in the morning⊠what? Has time completely sped up?Â
The hallways were dark, and you couldnât see any sign of the end. It only seemed to stretch on longer and longer the more you ran through it.Â
Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you continued running, ignoring the cramps in your leg and blisters forming from it. Finally, at last, you saw a lightâ a shimmery moonlight and you dashed towards it.Â
Hands wrapped around the handle, you tugged. Hard. But it was locked. Then you pulled, this time using all your body weight. Doesnât work either.
The sounds of your doctorâs shoes echoes grew louder and louder as he neared the entrance you were at.Â
âHELP!â you yelled as a last ditch effort, slamming your hand hard on the glass door multiple times in hopes that someone hears it. âPLEASE!â
Itâs the handkerchief landing on your mouth that suffocates you into unconsciousness.Â
~
Eyes fluttering open, beams of light hit your face that force your eyes shut back again. It didnât take long for you to feel your arms and legs bound to a medical chair.Â
You shook roughly in your seat. Then you let out a blood curdling scream, which is only muffled by the gag in your mouth.
Suddenly thereâs a hand that places itself onto yours. âPlease stay calm [name], this procedure will only take a while.â
You shook your head, eyes shot open in fear. âMMHHHH!â
âI didnât want to have to do this, but if it comes to it, I will. Close your eyes and forget today [name].â he says softly, as if trying to comfort you.
The injection seems to have heightened your senses before completely turning all of them off in your body. Everything goes black, and you soon pass out on the chair you're bound and stuck to.
Yandere! Clark who uses his super-hearing to listen in on your conversations regardless of who you're talking to. He pays close attention to even the smallest of things.
Yandere! Clark who kidnaps you for your own "safety". He is adamant and convinced that everything he does is for your own well-being. So why do you keep fighting him?
Yandere! Clark who searches for you frantically when you escape and bring you back home crying. He wipes the tears off your cheeks, kissing them away but you won't stop. You have to understand that this is all for you.
Yandere! Clark who loves physical touch and never forgets to kiss you before going to do his superhero duties. He forcibly coddles and smothers you with love every day, even if you don't want it.
Content. You've been diagnosed with a "disease" and now you've finally figured out the truth.
Pairing. Yandere! Doctor x reader
Wc. 2.2k
The first time you met your doctor, he barely even paid any attention to you, at least thatâs what it looked like. Heâs tall, quiet, and mysterious, precisely like a guy from those dark romance books. Exactly the kind of man who had such a strong presence that could fill a room even when he said or did nothing. He could capture the attention of many without whispering even a syllable, that part was so fascinating to you.Â
Your doctor is a rather peculiar one. Heâs always been the type to be more secluded, alone rather than with the crowd. Though, in times of utter urgency, heâs there when needed. Heâs particularly famous for his successful medical history. Heâs adept, more competent and logical than any other doctor some would claim.
He wouldâve been easily forgotten if it werenât for his sheer size. He isnât overly muscular or bulky, but rather tall and slender. And some might even say heâs attractive⊠in a way. If it werenât for his eccentric nature, you would understand it.
Some patients even admitted to fake sickness to get an appointment with him. But youâll never understand. Heâs direct and straight-to-the-point, so even if you did somehow get a scheduled doctor's meeting with him, it would be the fastest in and out.Â
Itâd been only a year since youâd scheduled your first first meeting, only for it to end up with you being stuck in his office for hours and getting diagnosed with an incurable disease. Ever since then, youâve come to his office regularly for checkups. But the odd thing is⊠you never knew what it even was.
Whenever youâd ask anything, heâd always end as quickly as possible by ensuring you there was no time and it was too complicated but you should understand the dire consequences if you were to ignore it. Missing an appointment would be shooting yourself in the foot. Although there were no visible, distinct symptoms that signalled your âupcoming deathâ, you still blindly followed him.
Youâre stupid for believing in whatever he told you.
Stupid, I say. Stupid.
Youâve spent hours rotting in that cold, leathery chairâ waiting for something. Anything. Yet it always ended with the same result. Treatments never did anything. To the point youâve decided on accepting it over arguing about it.
It never crossed your mind; he didnât seem like the type.
January 23rd. Officially 1 year and 1 month since youâve been âdiagnosedâ.
Itâs check up day.
Snowing and cold as usual, you put your winter coat on and got on your way to walk, a scarf wrapped comfortably around your neck, yet it still felt cold. He said it was due to your malfunctioning homeostasis, one of the many symptoms that come with your illness.Â
With every little step you took, you couldnât help but feel anxious about the treatment youâre about to receive. Itâs been a little over a year now and you havenât gotten better, despite not feeling even the slightest ounce of change in your body.
Itâs awful⊠isnât it?
Thatâs the question heâd always asked you when he showed you what could happen to you if you didnât take the pills he gave you. Always the same worrying yet cold sentence that shook you to your core. His voice always a flat line, barely emphasising the catastrophe youâve been at war with.
The hospital he worked at was relatively small, catering only for the people in your small town. Thereâs only two floors, first being for mild injuries or cases and second for more major ones. Youâre usually sent to the second one, where your doctorâs office is.Â
âAhh⊠good morning [name],â the receptionist calls you, placing the needed files onto the counter as per the usual routine.Â
Most of the staff has already memorised your presence, what time you come and how many minutes youâd usually take. Itâs pretty much become the norm for you to come and go from the hospital. Everything was routine and youâve familiarised yourself with it enough to be able to do most of it without any mistakes.
âI hope you get well soon [name].â Her gaze softens as she meets your eyes.
Your hands grab the folder filled with the long history of appointments, and you reply: âThank you. I hope so too.â
They, as well as you, had gotten so used to the routine it became technically second nature. Even without realising, theyâd sometimes grab your folder by accident and placed it onto the counter where you usually grabbed it from on a day when you didnât even have an appointment.
You took a deep breath before opening the door to your doctorâs office, only able to anticipate whatâs coming.Â
âGood morning [name],â he greets, not batting an eye but analysing your brain scan. He was taking notes and jotted it all down in his notebook before he would eventually type it.Â
âSoo⊠is it any better?â You ask.
He doesnât respond. As usual, he doesnât respond. Itâs never struck you the right way with how he barely shares any specific details.
âYour health is stabilising, but itâs not good enough for you to function as well as a normal person.â He states coldly.Â
Thatâs⊠good⊠I guess.
âHow much longer does this treatment have to be? Is it really worââ you ask, immediately silenced by the glare he gives.
He adjusts the position of his glasses, pushing it up slightly on his nose bridge with two fingers on the sides, before looking up to see your face. âItâs working; I promise. I know itâs been a long year but it wonât take any longer⊠I hope.â
âMe too.â you mutter accidentally, but it was too quiet of a whisper for anyone to hear.
He gently and meticulously picks up the syringe before flicking it a couple times to remove the air bubbles from the container. He carefully inspects the syringe for a few moments and when he deems it ready, he uses the sharp part to pierce through and pushes the plunger, slowly injecting the liquid into your bloodstream.
Finally, after the long moments of the needle penetrating your skin, he pulls it out and places it onto a tray. A bandaid is immediately stuck onto your skin the moment the needle leaves.Â
âThanks doc,â you mutter. âIâm really glad I have you, I canât imagine having to face this with an incompetent doctor.â
His pupil dilates ever so slightly. âYouâre welcome. Iâm glad too.â
Heâs never reciprocated your affection as the usual person. A normal person wouldâve been a bit flustered, but heâs more shocked than embarrassed.Â
Thatâs what you find so fascinating about such a man. Maybe he really is just that sophisticated and passionate about his work.
But youâve never understood the hype around him. Heâs stoic and cold; He doesnât seem to be type to date either.Â
Thereâs only so much you can wonder and never get the answers to. Maybe itâs his attractiveness. Heâs got everything that people usually deem to be attractive features like a high nose bridge, hunter eyes or whatever and heâs tall.
The metallic clatter sound brings you back into reality as he starts to look through the metal cart beside you full of medical tools, hands pushing it around to get better angles, and his brows furrow when he realises that what he needs isnât there.
âStay here. I need to get something from the staff room.â he orders you, placing down his clipboard onto his desk.Â
âOkay,â you respond.
5 minutes pass and he never comes back.
Then another additional 5 minutes pass and thereâs no sign of him.
What could possibly take him so long?
You could only wonder. But the sudden curiosity struck you. Heâs always so hyper focused on his computer and you canât help but want to know what it contains. Heâs never actually told you what illness or sickness you have, so maybe he stores it inside the computer.
When you sat down on his dark, leather chair, the computer was on the home page. There were several files with many different names and labels. Then you spot a familiar name in the bottom left corner.Â
Doctor Malcom Kyrenâs
You hovered over the icon, biting your lip as you debated on invading his privacy. But itâs valid if it was just to check your data right⊠so you clicked on the file with his name. Various unrecognisable names popped up, but you spotted some you knew like your friendly neighbour and teacher from high school. It was lovely to see just how many people came to him for help⊠but you canât help and wonder if you were the only one stuck in your position.
â[Name].â The stern voice of your beloved doctor woke you up, making you flinch in response.
âIs this really what youâve been doingâ please donât tell me itâs all been fake. The treatment, the illnessââ you took sharp inhales in between your speech, lips quivering and tears streaming down your face like a waterfall with no end.
Youâve never felt so alone before. Because of your so-called âillnessâ, you canât go out as much, you canât interact with others too much or theyâll get infected, you canât. Everything he told you was a lie. It was all fabricated so he could isolate you from the people you love, only so he could play savior and fill the hole in by himself. So many hours that youâve wasted on appointments. So many hours he took from you.
The room twisted in your vision, walls warping in and out, tears fogging your eyes.Â
â[Name]!â he yelled, gripping your shoulders so tightly they would bruise the skin. âI did this all for you!â
You tried to squirm out of his grasp but he didnât let go of you, but the look in his eyes scared you to death. âNoâ! You did this for yourself. To keep me here. Was the medicine even medicine? Was the prescription even real?â
The same blue eyes that everyone adored seemed evil to you. Itâs supposed to be a glimmering set but itâs not. âItâs all real. I did this all to protect youâ to save you.â
âProtect me from what? The imaginary illness you created in your mind or from your own fantasies?â you kicked his leg and escaped, rushing towards the door to escape, the keys slotted into the keyhole jingling as you tried to twist it. Your hands shook desperately, tears emerging in the corner of your eyes.
He groaned in pain but nonetheless, he got up to retrieve you. You finally got the key open when he was only an inch or two away from you. Dashing out into the hallways, you notice itâs night. Heartbeats thud in your mind, and it felt like something was squeezing your brain so tightly.
Thereâs no one around. The lights are all off and since itâs not necessarily a 24/7 type of hospital, thereâs no workers either.Â
From what you remember, itâs supposed to be around 10am in the morning⊠what? Has time completely sped up?Â
The hallways were dark, and you couldnât see any sign of the end. It only seemed to stretch on longer and longer the more you ran through it.Â
Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you continued running, ignoring the cramps in your leg and blisters forming from it. Finally, at last, you saw a lightâ a shimmery moonlight and you dashed towards it.Â
Hands wrapped around the handle, you tugged. Hard. But it was locked. Then you pulled, this time using all your body weight. Doesnât work either.
The sounds of your doctorâs shoes echoes grew louder and louder as he neared the entrance you were at.Â
âHELP!â you yelled as a last ditch effort, slamming your hand hard on the glass door multiple times in hopes that someone hears it. âPLEASE!â
Itâs the handkerchief landing on your mouth that suffocates you into unconsciousness.Â
~
Eyes fluttering open, beams of light hit your face that force your eyes shut back again. It didnât take long for you to feel your arms and legs bound to a medical chair.Â
You shook roughly in your seat. Then you let out a blood curdling scream, which is only muffled by the gag in your mouth.
Suddenly thereâs a hand that places itself onto yours. âPlease stay calm [name], this procedure will only take a while.â
You shook your head, eyes shot open in fear. âMMHHHH!â
âI didnât want to have to do this, but if it comes to it, I will. Close your eyes and forget today [name].â he says softly, as if trying to comfort you.
The injection seems to have heightened your senses before completely turning all of them off in your body. Everything goes black, and you soon pass out on the chair you're bound and stuck to.
Yandere! Clark who uses his super-hearing to listen in on your conversations regardless of who you're talking to. He pays close attention to even the smallest of things.
Yandere! Clark who kidnaps you for your own "safety". He is adamant and convinced that everything he does is for your own well-being. So why do you keep fighting him?
Yandere! Clark who searches for you frantically when you escape and bring you back home crying. He wipes the tears off your cheeks, kissing them away but you won't stop. You have to understand that this is all for you.
Yandere! Clark who loves physical touch and never forgets to kiss you before going to do his superhero duties. He forcibly coddles and smothers you with love every day, even if you don't want it.
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