#psycho reader

Yandere! Vampire Hunter x Vampire! Reader

Thinking about… a bloodthirsty vampire hunter’s unfortunate encounter of meeting a protective vampire.

CW : gruesome deaths, children abuse, horror, assault, many blood, torture, southern! Vampire Hunter, hints that vampires are immortal, but needs to regress age when they’re too old, reader having a distorted vision about justice and equal exchange, some cannibalism? Reader implied to be fem, but any genders can read! Reader is crazy and kinda psychotic??

Word Count : 2.4k+ words

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who turned into what he is now because of what happened to his family. He’s only a humble farmer who used to be an outlaw when he's younger. He decided to settle down with the woman he fell head over heels with, and had three children together with her. It was a rainy day, and he came home with his wife and children already dead and pale, bodies sucked out of their blood with fang marks on their necks.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who had to bury his family with his own hands. His farmer friends are utterly worried about him. His hands may tremble as he dug the dirt behind his house, his eyes throbbing with pain because he cried himself a river hugging each of their corpse, and his head drooping with exhaustion as he carved each of their name on heavy stone for their headstone, but he refused to rest until he made sure they’re resting in a better place.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who finally slept after burying them, where he is tortured with questions and scenarios. What if he was there? What will happen if he’s with them? Will he die together with them?

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who burnt down his home the next day. He grabbed his wife’s favourite shawl, and his children’s drawings. His own belongings? Just stored in his horse’s saddle and his bag. He couldn’t bear living in the same place where his family was slaughtered. He swore he could smell the blood stuck on the floor and walls, despite knowing his friends already scrubbed it clean.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who left the town to seek other vampire hunters to learn how to hunt and kill vampires. His farmer friends told him not to make such hasty decisions when he’s still blinded by agony and sadness, but he has made up his mind. So after thanking his friends, they all go to the town’s edge to send him off, and to remind him they’ll still accept and help him if he ever decides to come back.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who no longer feared death, because he knew his family would be waiting for him. He became another hunter’s apprentice, learning and documenting ways to trap and end a vampire’s life.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who moved from town to town, seeking for different answers to kill them. Most effective is severing their heads, or fire that’ll melt their body from their bones, and silver bullets.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who discovered that silver bullets, especially for shotguns, are extremely expensive. Killing vampires is very risky, so most hunters decide to catch them and bring them to the town’s sheriff, where they’ll be burnt in the center of town for everyone to see.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who doesn’t want to do that. He wants to kill them with his very own hands. His master advised him not to because he got 0 experience hunting vampires. But he refuses. He sells his cherished belongings (not his wedding rings though, he wore them as his necklace for good luck, and buys silver knife and some bullets.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who starts seeking for weaker, recently turned vampires. He follows rumors through town and meets the new vampire. The vampire is still sloppy, and not too tricky to follow. So when the man is eating on a young woman’s flesh, he cocked his shotgun, aimed and shot the vampire on the back. The vampire instantly wailed from the pain, but before he could flee, pre-yan! Vampire hunter is already lassoing him from behind.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who threw the man on the ground, before pulling the silver blade from his bag. He stabbed it on the vampire’s neck, and deep, dark red blood spurted out from the wound like a fountain. He stabbed him again, again and again, effectively separating the vampire’s head from its body.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who burnt the body, making sure it’s all turned to dust, before riding his horse back to town, with blood on his face and hands. The vampire’s head gripped on his hand like a grotesque gift. Once he arrived at the sheriff's office, he hurled the head to the table, before lighting up a cigarette.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who ended up as a legend for townspeople because of how closed off he is. He thanked his master and left on his own. He goes on his own taking bounties, helping townsfolk, and killing vampires.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who got slightly obsessed with the concept of torturing vampires. He kept one alive out of curiosity. He ties the vampire on a tree, and he comes to slash their skin with his knives just to see how long it took for them to heal, and how they’ll get weaker without human blood.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who kills for the love of the game. Sometimes he left vampire corpses in the forests with their bodies still attached, their heads already severed with an empty shell of silver bullet near its face… Or where the face is supposed to be at. It’s just a hollow, gory mess of organs.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who made a fatal mistake of planning to kill a vampire child. He’s never heard of children getting turned into such creatures. He heard that a boy went missing in a forest, and found some kind of forest protector who’s a pale, young girl. The girl brought him back to the town, but hearing the descriptions made him sure it’s a vampire.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who found the child chasing fireflies inside a nearby forest. He’s about to aim his gun at her, when he felt a kick on his head, and his lungs derived from air.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who woke up tied into a chair in a dim room. His sight only comes from a small fireplace near his seat. He could hear a soft sound of a violin, and a tall figure looming.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who started screaming profanities and threats to be let out from the ropes, only to earn a sudden stop of the violin, and the figure creeping up to him. His head is touched by two pale hands, and his head pulled to a raised knee, making him choke as his nose cracked on impact.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who felt his heart rush from adrenaline, and fear for the first time in years. The figure crouched in front of him, and grabbed his jaw carefully while inspecting his wound like a madman. Meanwhile, you just stared back with a blank look.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, whose breath hitched as you took a stool and sat in front of him. Your hand held his silver knife with no problem, and nicked his skin just because. Your wide smile scares him with the glint of fangs.

“You see, you almost killed a toddler that I gave a second chance of life to.” You sighed calmly, and snapped the knife into two. It was getting dull anyways.

“I reckon you’ll be such a kind savior, p-partner. Is this a sick experiment you’re conducting on children?!” The vampire hunter spat back, only to have you slap him.

“Let me tell you a little story then, outlaw. Perhaps you’ll feel just a tiny bit of remorse when you realise that not all vampires are the same.”

ᛝ You, who was born already as a vampire. Your parents are two powerful vampires who let you live independently. You, oddly enough, disliked human blood and preferred animal blood, so you hunted animals instead.

ᛝ You, who spends time resting inside your palace minding your own business. Who knows what your parents are doing? They’re probably in a cocoon of their bat nests, sleeping and eventually turning back to their young ages.

ᛝ You, who was drinking a pig’s blood in a nearby farm when you heard the family owner laughing so loudly. You raised your head up and saw the family having a feast. You decided to walk around for a bit, only to almost step on a girl, whose ankles are tied using metal chains, her body small and so thin you can see the bones, and the smell from her leg… it smells rotten. She’s dying, evident from her shallow breaths and weak voice begging for her ‘mother’.

ᛝ You, who stabbed your hand near a fence, letting your blood pool on it before gently feeding it to the child. You feel a little lightheaded, but you can’t leave the girl like this, not with her bruises and cries.

ᛝ You, who placed your cloak and cradled the child on your chest until she woke up. You ask her for her name, and she has none. All she knows is she’s chained outside because she’s born pale. Her father thought she’s cursed, or that his wife had cheated on him with a vampire. Her mother, not wanting to live in the streets, chose to admit she cheated, and begged for forgiveness. Ever since, the girl has to live near the barn, eating leftovers by the family, while sometimes earning a beating from them if she’s unlucky.

ᛝ You, who is baffled after hearing what the girl just said. She’s probably just anemic. But her family treats her like this? You bundled her up and told her to wait, while you went to her home. She covered her ears, but she could hear screams off in the distance.

ᛝ You, who came back throwing her father’s corpse in front of her. She raised her head only to see you carrying her mother on your shoulder, and her older brother on your other hand, dragged like an unworthy mat. She could see deep wound on their neck, as if you used your nails to pierce through their muscles and flesh.

ᛝ You, who told her to eat and feed. Recently turned vampires need a lot of blood. Especially because she’s wounded and injured. You even show her how to do it with your fangs despite not liking how human blood tasted like.

ᛝ You, who brought the girl home after forcing her to drink all the blood of her family members. After all, is it not sweet as justice? And she really needs to drink them all if she wants to heal. You bathed her, applied ointments on her bruises, and dressed her up in your old dresses from when you’re a baby.

ᛝ You, who named her Charlotte. Charles means ‘free man’ right? So you’ll give her a memento, A name that shows she has broken free. Charlotte, your beloved daughter who you’ll always cherish. Charlotte, who begs you not to hunt for humans, so you settle with buying blood bags from a vampire acquaintance who disguises himself as a doctor in town.

ᛝ You, who tilted your head when he groaned and cried as you finished the story. Isn’t this equal exchange? You helped set her free. If this man doesn’t understand, then you wouldn’t care. You stood up and stopped the fire on purpose, intending to torture him with hunger and hipothermia for his crimes. You’ve heard how he’s a renowned vampire hunter.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who stayed quiet for days. It’s embarrassing. He starts to get delirious and overthinks his decision. On the third day of no food and water, he can hear the door click, and small pitter patters of feet nearing him. When he raised his head, he saw the same girl he wanted to kill.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, whose nose got hit by the smell of bread. Charlotte makes a sign for him to stay quiet, and feeds him with the bread and water.

“Please don’t misunderstand mama… She’s difficult to understand, but she cares deeply about me.”

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who felt extreme guilt when she waved her hand at him, and left the room. He’s stuck inside the same dark room again.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who woke up the next day with you already playing the violin again. The fire is started, and his joints are thanking the gods with how tired he was.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who got another smile from you, while you sauntered your way back to him. You grabbed his jaw again, your thumb rubbing his dry lips in mockery as he looked up with fear.

“You see, a little dove came to me… Asking me to let you go yesterday. I would like to refuse, but she insists.” You hummed, your eyes darting to his ears.

“She said… I can take one body part away from you as equal exchange. Then I’ll let you go.” You mumbled, before smiling and rubbing his left helix.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, whose screams could be heard as you forcefully cut his left ear using a dull blade to amplify the pain. When you’re done, you throw the severed ear inside the scorching fire. He’s fully sobbing now, blood is moving everywhere.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who saw you tear your own skin on your palm, before mixing your blood together. His crying got louder as you grinned at him.

“Now you have my blood in your system, healing you from the inside. What is so different between us now, Mr. Hunter?”

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who passed out from the stress, all he can hear is your laughter. He woke up with his ear already patched with bandages, and his arm burning. When he raised it up, there were clear words of ‘STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER’, presumably carved with the same knife when he was unconscious. His shotgun is already broken into two pieces, his guess is you’ve stomped it to shreds. But he can see some food and clean water, mayhaps left by Charlotte herself.

ᛝ pre-yan! Vampire hunter, who felt something blooming in his heart. Fear, guilt, anger and sadness. Now all he wants to do is to thank the kid. And perhaps not get killed by her bat-shit crazy parent.

A/N : oh god writing this is so fun??? Batshit crazy, psycho YN is actually great! And for clarification, YN gives him blood to stop his infection and heal him. He wouldn't turn into a vampire, it's just a small quantity of blood. Special thanks to the anon that sends me the ask about yan! Vamp hunter and vamp! Reader

Hope you all enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, reqs and asks even more so.

Taglist :

I’ve seen a lot of obsessive!/dark! Robby…and I just wanted to flip the switch a little for international women’s day. - thanks to @applehorror for the inspo as well as @lauraneedstochill for that amazing horror Robby story a couple weeks ago.

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, non consensual touching while sleeping (is that still somno if they’re drugged?), psycho reader.

W/C - 1,431

You overheard the interaction with Robby and Jack. You saw the lack of emotion In Robby’s eyes when he refused to answer Jack about whether he was coming back. That wouldn’t work for you. It was hard enough wrestling with the idea of him leaving your orbit for 3 months. The idea of him leaving this earth? It sparked something in your chest. You didn’t think. You moved.

The rest of the day passed by with chaos barely bridled by crumbling cohesion and the day shift was….exhausted. Most people had hoped that Robby would at least sleep off his shift before leaving on a cross country motorcycle trip. You knew different.

You approached him in the locker room with a soft smile, looking up through your lashes.

“Hey boss! Can I ask a quick favor before you leave?” Your voice dripping with honey.

"You're Worse Than Me." (Patrick Hockstetter x Psycho!Reader)

Patrick Hockstetter knows what obsession looks like. Because he’s seen it. He’s caused it. The way girls look at him, the way they want him, the way some of them avert their eyes in fear, the way some of them get all clingy, desperate, lovesick.

But you take it to a whole different level. And he doesn’t even realize it at first. Until one day, you say something, something only he could have known. Something he never told you. That old fridge in the woods...

And when he gives you a sharp look, when he asks you how the fuck you knew that, you just smile. Patrick finally sees you. For the first time in his life, he thinks, holy shit. She’s worse than me.

Patrick isn’t normal. So he doesn’t react like a normal person. A normal person would be freaked out. Would call you a psycho, would get a restraining order, would run the hell away.

But Patrick just grins. Because fuck. You’re batshit crazy. And he can work with that.

You follow him. Everywhere. You know his schedule better than he does. You steal his clothes. A hoodie, a t-shirt, a pack of cigarettes left in his car—they always end up in your room. You change your hair color to match a girl he checked out once. You wear his favorite color every time you see him. You talk like him. Pick up his slang, his mannerisms, the way he smirks when he’s about to ruin someone’s life. You go through his trash. You don’t think he knows. But he does. And it turns him on.

You write his last name after yours in your notebooks. You threaten other girls—but never to their faces. Just small, subtle things. A dead rat in their locker. A slashed bike tire. A lipstick message on a mirror.

You wake up every morning and ask yourself: What would Patrick want me to look like today? You stop eating certain foods because Patrick once made fun of a girl for ordering them. You sleep in his hoodie, pretend the scent won’t fade if you just wear it long enough. You follow him in your car sometimes. Just to make sure you know where he goes when he’s not with you.

You memorize the girls he looks at. Find out their names. Their addresses. Just in case. You copy his handwriting in your notebooks. You leave little gifts in his locker—a pack of his favorite cigarettes, a stolen pocketknife, a Polaroid of yourself in his shirt, your lipstick print in the corner.

You practice saying his name in the mirror. You start dressing like the girls he used to fuck—but better.

You memorize his home number and call from payphones, just to breathe into the receiver. You break into his room once. Just to lay in his bed, breathe in his sheets, press your lips against his pillow.

And when he finally catches you, when he leans in close, breath hot against your ear, voice dark and teasing, "You been stalking me, baby?"

You don’t deny it. You just grin. Patrick just laughs. Because holy fuck, you’re perfect, and, "That's so sweet," he admits.

Henry Bowers doesn't know what to make of it. "Jesus, man. She’s fucking nuts." But secretly? He respects it. "Where can I find one just like her?"

Vic Criss thinks it’s funny as hell. "Man, you finally found a girl as fucked up as you."

Belch Huggins isn't so sure. "Yeah, uh, not to be that guy, but… she scares me, dude."

Other girls at school are either terrified of you or jealous that Patrick actually lets you be this crazy for him. Patrick doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Because now he’s got a girl who’s as obsessed with him as he is with himself.

And if that isn’t the hottest thing in the world, he doesn't know what is.

Patrick doesn’t date girls who love him too much. Because love is boring. Love is expectations and rules and being someone’s boyfriend.

This isn’t love. This is obsession. This is watching you slowly unravel yourself, watching you twist into something completely his, watching you ruin yourself in ways he doesn’t even have to ask for.

Patrick loves watching people break. So when you show up to school with your hair exactly like the girl he was staring at last week...When you start wearing his favorite band shirts, even though you never listened to them before...When you sit in his lap at a party, arms wrapped around his neck, whispering, "Tell me to breathe, Patrick, and I will."

Word count: 764

Warnings: Dark themes, obsession, stalking, suggestive content, emotional detachment, mentions of violence, smoking, gender neutral reader, both reader and ghost face are two different levels of psycho

Idk who to tag for this tbh

You’ve always been good at talking to strangers.

It seemed easier, in a way.

There’s a comfort in telling your secrets to someone who doesn’t know your name.

They can’t hold anything against you if they don’t know where to find you.

You’re not lonely, exactly.

You just don’t like being known.

And maybe that’s what made him interested.

⸻

The first time you saw him, it was nothing. A quick glance across a convenience store parking lot at midnight.

He was leaning against the ice machine hood up, head down, hands stuffed into the front pocket of a black sweatshirt. There was something about him that felt still. Not lazy, not calm. Still. The way a storm gets quiet right before it hits.

You don’t know why you spoke to him.

“Got a light?”

Your voice was steady. Casual. Like you’d said it a hundred times before.

He didn’t answer. Just flicked open a cheap silver zippo and held it out without looking at you. You didn’t have a cigarette, so you just nodded, said “thanks,” and walked away with your heartbeat doing something weird in your chest.

That should’ve been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

⸻

A few days later, you found a note.

Folded once, tucked in between your front door and the frame like it had been left gently. No name. Just five words in a sharp, messy scrawl

“You smile like you’re pretending.”

You stood there for a long minute, just staring at it. You weren’t scared. Not exactly. But you felt… seen.

And you weren’t used to that.

⸻

You started noticing things after that.

Footsteps behind you that never got close.

A shape in the corner of your eye that disappeared when you turned your head.

Your bedroom window the one you never opened slightly cracked when you came home from work.

You told yourself it was nothing.

But you started leaving the lights off more. Sitting in the dark. Listening.

Waiting.

⸻

Strangers stopped sticking around after that.

A guy you’d met at a bar charming in a boring kind of way ghosted after one date.

A girl you liked from the bookstore got fired suddenly and never answered your texts again.

You thought maybe it was just life. Maybe people were flaky.

But deep down, you had a feeling.

Then came the second note.

“They won’t love you like I do.”

You laughed when you read it. Just a little.

Because “love” was a strange word for someone you’d never spoken to.

But it didn’t feel like a lie.

⸻

One night, you left the window open.

Not by accident.

Not out of hope.

Just… curiosity.

You were in bed when you felt it the shift in air, the faint creak of the floor.

And when you turned your head, there he was.

Ghostface. Mask and all.

Tall and silent and still, just like that first night.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there and watched you.

And you didn’t scream.

You should have.

But you just… looked back.

“You came,” you whispered.

He tilted his head. That same slow, animal motion. Studying you.

Then he stepped closer. One hand reached out, gloved fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. The edge of a knife caught the light in his other hand, but he didn’t raise it.

You didn’t flinch.

You just looked at him and said, quietly, “I don’t mind if you stay.”

⸻

The next morning, the news said a man had been found dead in an alley three blocks from your place. Someone you vaguely recognized. A guy who’d flirted with you too hard once, touched your arm when you didn’t want him to.

The reporter said it was a tragedy.

You didn’t feel much.

You looked at your window again that night.

And left it open.

⸻

You keep talking to strangers.

It’s just a habit now.

But he’s the only one who never leaves.

Upcoming Collaboration Alert!!!

Hey, y'all! I'm about to start working on a psycho-reader fanfic with @mimikittysblog It's gonna give strong Joker and Harley Quinn vibes...BUT...who should the male lead be?

Vote and like this post to be added to the taglist (trust me when I say you're gonna love this--SMUT!! and Mind Games!!)

Here's a link to her masterlist if you wanna check out some of her other fics

Creep: “I would kill everyone in our way just to hold you.”

R:“I have.”

Creep:“What?”