I tried to finish this before Halloween but I got lazy as you may tell<3:*(
Female!Yandere(?) x reader
TW: Yandere, social anxiety, internal conflict, mild bullying, emotional distress, supernatural tension (vampire/werewolf prejudice).
You hated new school years. New faces, new people, and new roommates. Sometimes new people were worse than the monsters you already had to live with.
Your carriage came to a halt beside a patch of night lilies, their pale blossoms glowing faintly under the moonlight. The school loomed before you, its brick walls a mix of dark red and brown, vines twisting over nearly every window. It looked abandoned, which felt appropriate for a place no one wanted to admit housed monsters.
“We’ve arrived, ma’am,” your driver said, eyes flicking to you in the rearview mirror.
“Thank you, sir,” you murmured, forcing a small smile. Your stomach clenched as you looked at the crowd of students gathering near the entrance. Anxiety rose in your chest, clawing at your throat. You swallowed hard, gripping the door handle until your knuckles turned white.
Sunlight hit you the moment you stepped down. Vampires weren’t supposed to burn alive under the sun, but it was enough to make your skin sting and your eyes water. You scrambled for the shade of a nearby wall, heart hammering as you tried to calm the panic rising inside you.
From your hiding spot, you observed the crowd: witches in flowing robes, werewolves stretching and whispering, and vampires like yourself, trying to appear calm. Wolves and vampires did not get along, not since the war, and the tension in the air made your stomach churn.
You fanned yourself, trying to ease the burning from the sun, and told yourself to calm down. That’s all. Just calm down.
Then a voice rang out. “Hello!”
You froze. Your eyes widened as they met hers. “Hello?” Your voice was uncertain and quiet.
“Hi!” she said, stepping closer, tilting her face slightly to avoid the sun. Her skin was deep brown, her eyes a bright violet that seemed to stare right through you. Thick curls fell around her face, streaked with soft blonde highlights. She wore a dark brown skirt dotted with white polka dots and a light cardigan over a black tank top, a brown headband holding her hair back.
Your chest tightened. Was she a werewolf? Why was she talking to you?
“Can I help you?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly.
Her violet eyes lingered on you. “That would be appreciated. Do you know what we do? Do we just wait or is there a certain time we can go inside?”
You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Uh… you just wait for today. It’s the first day. After that, you can go in whenever.”
She nodded and smiled faintly, and your stomach twisted. Why did she smile like that at you? You could feel your hands shaking slightly as you clutched your bag.
After she thanked you, silence fell between you. You could feel your chest hammering in your ears. Did you say that wrong? Did your voice sound weird? Why did your words come out like that? Oh god, she’s thinking I’m awkward. She probably hates me already.
Finally, you asked, “Can I ask… what are you?”
Her eyes widened in mock offense. “Oo, not even an introduction? Rude.”
You flushed. Your words stumbled out. “O-Oh! Sorry… uh, what’s your name?”
“Nyra,” she said, smooth and confident. “Yours?”
“Y/n,” you whispered. Then you panicked. Did that sound too short? Too blunt? Should you have said your full name? Did she think you were rude?
“So… can I know what you are?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Nyra hesitated, and you imagined her judging you. “Are you going to hate me if I say that?”
“Why would I?” you said quickly, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow in your own ears. “Are you a werewolf or something?”
She smiled faintly, a corner of her mouth tilting in a way that made your chest feel heavy. “Something like that,” she said, stepping just a little closer. You could feel her presence as much as you could see her.
A loud noise from the front doors made both of you look. Mr. Franklin, the shapeshifter principal, appeared. He was tall, brown-haired, with piercing black eyes, and he welcomed everyone with an enthusiasm that made your stomach twist further. “Welcome, everyone,” he said. “To BlackWhole High, the home of the unknown.”
After he finished speaking, students surged inside. You glanced at Nyra, expecting her to leave, but she stayed, her eyes locked on yours, and your stomach lurched. Did you say something wrong? Did she notice your shaking hands? Your voice quivering? Your mind spun with every possible misstep.
You followed her inside, feeling small and exposed in the bright hallways. Red and gold walls, candles flickering, photos of teachers who had died or been caught by humans staring down at you.
She walked beside you, not too close, but close enough that you felt the pull of her gaze constantly. Every smile she gave, every tilt of her head, made your heart race and your mind spiral. Did she like you? Did she know you were terrified? Would she think you pathetic for overthinking every word?
You didn’t say another word. Neither did she. The noise of students filled the hall, laughter, greetings, footsteps echoing, but it all sounded muffled, like you were underwater. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said, how you had sounded, how her eyes had lingered a little too long.
Your dorm was the same as last year, second floor, corner room, tucked away from the main hall. You liked it that way. Quiet. Safe. Isolated.
You set your bag down by the bed and sank into the mattress. The room smelled faintly of old candles and lavender from whoever had stayed there before you. You pulled your knees up, pressed your face into them, and replayed every second of that conversation.
“Did I sound rude? Was my voice shaking too much? She probably thinks I’m weird. Why did I even ask what she was? Stupid.”
Your hands pressed into your eyes until you saw colors dancing behind them. The familiar ache of embarrassment crept up your neck, and your chest tightened with every replayed word. It was always like this. The noise in your head louder than anything around you.
You stayed there for what felt like forever, until the sun dipped low enough that the room turned amber. You changed into your uniform, crisp and uncomfortable, too tight around your throat, and made your way to your first class.
You told yourself to breathe. To keep your head down. To make it through the day unseen.
But when you stepped inside the classroom, your stomach dropped.
She was sitting by the window, sunlight spilling across her skin like honey. She turned her head, her curls catching the light, and her eyes met yours before you could look away.
That same faint smile touched her lips, soft, but it felt like she knew something you didn’t. Like she had been waiting for you.
You took a seat at the far end of the room, hoping she would not come over. Maybe she would forget you. Maybe she would talk to someone else.
But the chair beside you scraped against the floor.
“Hey,” she said, her voice low and smooth, almost playful. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
You froze, fingers gripping the edge of your desk. “Oh… uh… yeah,” you whispered, too quietly. “Me neither.”
She leaned her elbow on the desk, resting her chin in her palm. “You always talk that quietly?”
You looked at her, startled. “S-sorry,” you said instinctively.
Her smile widened just a little, not mocking, not kind, just curious. “Don’t apologize,” she murmured. “It’s cute.”
Your breath caught, heat rising to your cheeks. You didn’t know what to say, and your mind flooded again with panic. What did she mean by that? Was she teasing you? Why would she say that?
“Um…” was all you managed before the teacher walked in.
Even as class began, you could feel her eyes on you. They were warm and heavy, impossible to ignore. Every time you shifted or tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, you swore you caught her watching.
When class ended, as you gathered your books with shaking hands, you heard her voice again, quiet this time but certain.
“I’ll walk you to your dorm later, okay?”
You looked up, startled. “What? Oh… no, it’s fine, you don’t have to…”
She tilted her head slightly, her violet eyes gleaming in a way that made your pulse skip. “I want to,” she said softly.
You opened your mouth to argue, but she was already standing, smiling that same calm, unreadable smile.
You didn’t understand it yet, the way her gaze lingered like a promise. The way her words wrapped around you, careful and deliberate.
You only knew that your heart wouldn’t stop racing.
The walk back to your dorm was quiet. The halls were the same as last year, lined with gold-trimmed portraits and candlelight that never seemed to flicker. You unlocked the door to your room and stepped inside. It smelled faintly of old books and lavender, the same scent you left behind before summer. Everything was exactly where you remembered it. The bed by the window. The shelf with dust gathering at the corners. The curtains drawn tight against the sunlight you could never quite bear.
You set your bag down and leaned against the wall, your heart still racing from the earlier conversation. You replayed it again and again in your head. The way Nyra smiled. The way you stumbled over your words. How you almost made a joke that probably sounded weird. Your hands covered your face as the anxiety started to build, that horrible fluttering feeling in your stomach that never went away after you talked to someone new.
Why did she talk to you? Why did you sound so awkward? You should have said something else. You should have stayed quiet.
You sighed, sinking into your bed and staring at the ceiling.
The next few days passed quickly. Classes started, and the halls filled with noise. You tried to stay quiet, invisible, like always. But Nyra had a way of finding you. She’d smile from across the room. Sit beside you at lunch. Hold the door open when you pretended not to notice her.
Eventually you stopped trying to avoid her. You didn’t have the energy to push someone away who actually seemed to care. And Nyra cared a lot. She asked about your classes, your favorite books, the way your fangs sometimes ached when you were tired. She made you laugh once, a small surprised sound you hadn’t heard from yourself in months.
For a while, it felt nice.
One night, you stayed late in the study hall. The moonlight spilled through the tall windows, soft and pale. The world outside was quiet. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Nyra. Her curls were a little messy, her cardigan damp with dew, and there was dirt on her shoes.
“Were you outside?” you asked quietly.
She smiled, almost too quickly. “I like the woods at night.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?” you asked.
Her eyes flicked toward the window where the moon hung full and bright. “Not for me.”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t answer right away. When she smiled again, her teeth looked different. Not sharp like a vampire’s, but broader, almost wolf-like. You thought you imagined it, but when she turned away, your chest tightened.
You didn’t sleep much that night.
The next morning, the whispers began.
“Did you hear about her?”
“She’s been hanging around a wolf.”
“She should know better. After everything they did.”
Your stomach dropped. You didn’t have to ask who they were talking about.
That day, when you walked into the cafeteria, the conversations stopped. Vampires glanced up from their tables, their gazes sharp as glass. You wanted to vanish. Nyra waved you over from a corner table, smiling like she didn’t notice the way everyone was staring.
You sat down quietly, your hands trembling.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
“People are talking,” you whispered. “They know.”
Nyra’s eyes darkened for a moment before she forced a smile. “Let them. They’ll get bored.”
By the end of the week, the whispers had turned cruel. You heard them in the hallways, in the dorms, even during class.
“Imagine letting a werewolf sit next to you.”
“She’s embarrassing us all.”
You tried to focus on your work, but your vision blurred from the sting in your eyes. You kept your head down, hoping no one saw the tears.
When class ended, you stayed behind until everyone else had left. The sound of the door closing was the only relief you felt all day. You packed your books slowly, pretending you didn’t feel the ache building in your chest.
Then the door opened again.
Nyra stepped inside. Her violet eyes found you immediately.
“You’ve been quiet,” she said softly.
You swallowed, not looking up. “Everyone’s talking about us.”
She tilted her head. “About what?”
“About me being friends with you. Because of the war. Because you’re a werewolf.”
Nyra didn’t move for a moment. Her expression softened, but there was something behind her eyes that made your stomach twist.
“Does it bother you?” she asked quietly. “That I’m a werewolf?”
You looked up, meeting her gaze. “No. I just… I don’t want people to hate me.”
Her smile returned, small and patient. “They already do, don’t they?”
You looked down again, your vision blurry. “Yeah.”
She stepped closer until she was right in front of you. “Come here,” she whispered.
You hesitated, but when she reached out her hand, you took it. Her skin was warm, almost too warm, and her touch trembled slightly. She brushed her thumb across your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t realize had fallen.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said softly. “They don’t know you like I do.”
Your voice shook. “Nyra, they’re staring when we’re together.”
“Let them,” she murmured. Her tone was calm but heavy, like every word carried weight. “They’ll stop. I’ll make them stop if they don’t.”
Her hand stayed on your cheek, her eyes locked with yours. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You have me now.”
You wanted to pull away, but her touch was comforting in a way that scared you even more. The room was silent except for her breathing. You could still feel the echo of laughter and whispers from the hall, but all you could see were her violet eyes watching you like you were the only thing that mattered.
And as she smiled, soft and steady, you finally understood that she wasn’t just trying to comfort you.
She was promising something.
Something no one else could ever take back.
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