#yamdere

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Basado en Yandere Simulator/LoveSick

⚠️Contenido violento, yandere, acoso, secuestro, obsesión, manipulación emocional, sindrome de escotocolmo⚠️

LEER BAJO TU RESPONSABILIDAD

Oh, the irony.

He's led you here and told you to pick from the assortment of evening attire to wear to the ball. This isn't thoughtfulness. The fact that he leaves you a choice in your appearance tonight is a blatant mockery of your situation.

"Indecisive?" hardly. He leans closer to your neck, you catch his smile in the mirror. "Whichever you pick, I will buy. I'm certain your tastes are better than mine."

You glance towards the blue set, the smallest act of rebellion you can have.

You feel his arms tighten around your waist, but he keeps smiling.

The Returned — A Reunion Long Overdue

Summary/Warnings: Angst, emotional reunion, mentions of past trauma, Lambda experiments (torture, drugging, abuse), yandere themes (possessiveness, obsessive behavior, mild violence in yandere sections). Reader is a childhood friend of Emma, Ray, and Norman, presumed dead after being sent to a different Lambda facility. Now they have escaped and, through a twist of fate, are brought to the same hideout.

The Context

Before the truth of Grace Field shattered your world, you were the fourth piece of the trio’s puzzle. Emma, Ray, Norman — and you. While they were all brilliant in their own ways, you possessed a kind of intelligence that even Mama Isabella found unsettling. You hid it well, never wanting to stand out, but after the secret was discovered and the escape plan began, Isabella acted. She couldn’t afford a variable as dangerous as you. So you were shipped first — not to the same Lambda as Norman, but to a different one, a sister facility buried even deeper in the demon world. For Emma, Ray, and Norman, you simply vanished. One day you were there, the next you were gone. They mourned you. They carried your memory like a wound that never fully healed.

What they didn’t know was that you survived. You endured the horrors of Lambda — the needles, the drugs, the cold tables, the screaming in the night — and you made friends in that hell. Together, you planned. Together, you broke out. You wandered the wasteland until you stumbled upon a Minerva shelter, and there, Barbara and Cislo found you during a mission. They offered to take you to their base. You had no idea whose base it was.

Oh btw darling I already made something like this in the past EHEHEH this one!!

EMMA — NORMAL VERSION

The moment Emma sees you, the world stops.

She’s mid-sentence, probably arguing with Ray about something trivial, when Barbara and Cislo lead your group into the main hall. Her green eyes land on you and her whole body goes rigid. For a long, terrible second, no one breathes.

Then Emma moves. She doesn’t walk — she launches herself at you with the same reckless, full-body athleticism she used to tackle you during games of tag. The impact nearly sends you both to the ground. Her arms wrap around you so tightly it’s hard to breathe, and she’s trembling — actually trembling, which is something you’ve never felt from Emma before.

“You’re alive,” she chokes out, her voice cracking in a way that shatters your heart. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re — I thought — we thought you were —”

She can’t finish. She just buries her face in your shoulder and sobs.

Emma doesn’t let go for a very long time. When she finally pulls back, her face is blotchy and tear-streaked, but she’s smiling — that same bright, determined smile that could convince anyone to keep fighting. Her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as if she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” she says fiercely. “Never. Do you hear me? We’re going to fix everything — the farms, the demons, all of it — and we’re doing it together. You, me, Ray, Norman. The four of us. Just like before.”

She laughs, a little wet and a little wild. “I have so much to tell you. And you — you have to tell me everything. Where you were, what happened, who your new friends are — everything. I want to know all of it.”

Later, when you sit down and tell her about Lambda — the experiments, the pain, the friends you made and lost along the way — Emma listens with tears streaming silently down her face. She doesn’t interrupt. She just holds your hand, her grip tightening every time your voice wavers. When you finish, she pulls you into another hug.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. But you’re here now. You’re safe. And I promise you, I will never let anyone take you away from us again.”

EMMA — YANDERE VERSION

Warnings: Possessive behavior, obsessive tendencies, emotional intensity bordering on unhealthy, mention of past trauma.

When Emma sees you, she doesn’t run. She freezes.

For a moment, she thinks she’s hallucinating. The drugs at Goldy Pond, the exhaustion, the grief — maybe her mind has finally broken. But then you say her name, your voice exactly as she remembers it, and something inside Emma snaps.

She crosses the room in quick, deliberate strides. There’s no sobbing, no joyful shouting. Her face is strangely calm, but her eyes — her eyes are burning with something that makes even Ray take a step back.

She stops inches from you. Her hand rises, trembling slightly, and presses flat against your chest, right over your heart. She stays like that for a long moment, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump beneath her palm.

“It’s real,” she breathes. “You’re real.”

Then the smile comes. It’s not her usual sunny grin — it’s something sharper, hungrier. “Do you have any idea what it was like?” she asks, her voice deceptively light. “Waking up and finding you gone? No note, no warning, no body to bury? Mama told us you’d been shipped. She said it so gently, like she was telling us you’d gone to a better place.”

Her hand slides up to your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek. Her touch is almost reverent. “I searched for you. Every night, after everyone else was asleep, I’d go through every book, every map, every scrap of information I could find. Norman and Ray — they thought I was just grieving. They didn’t understand. I knew you weren’t dead. I knew it. And I was right.”

She leans closer, her forehead nearly touching yours. “You’re not allowed to leave again,” she says, and her tone has shifted — still soft, but carrying an edge of steel. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t care if we have to burn down every farm and kill every demon ourselves. You stay with me. With us. Forever.”

Later, when you recount the horrors of Lambda, Emma’s expression doesn’t change. She listens, nods, asks quiet questions. But when you describe the experiments — the needles, the drugs, the nights you thought you’d die — her hand finds yours under the table and squeezes until your fingers ache.

“Who hurt you?” she asks calmly when you’re done. “Do you remember their faces? Their names?”

You hesitate. Emma tilts her head, waiting. There’s something cold and patient in her gaze.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to remember right now. But when you do, tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

She says it the same way she talks about saving all the children — with absolute, unshakeable conviction. And for the first time, you realize that Emma’s determination, the same force of will that made her refuse to leave anyone behind, has a darker side. A side that will protect what she considers hers with terrifying ferocity.

And you are, undoubtedly, hers.

RAY — NORMAL VERSION

Ray’s reaction is the quietest, but perhaps the most devastating.

He’s standing near the back of the room, arms crossed, his usual aloof expression in place. When you walk in, he goes completely still. His dark eyes widen — just a fraction, barely perceptible — and then his face shutters.

For several heartbeats, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. You almost think he hasn’t recognized you, or worse, that he’s angry.

Then he exhales — a long, shaky breath that seems to drain all the tension from his body — and walks toward you.

He doesn’t run. Ray never runs toward things; he’s spent his entire life calculating risks and bracing for the worst. But his pace is quicker than usual, and when he reaches you, he stops just short of touching you. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

“You’re an idiot,” he says flatly.

You blink. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” he repeats. His voice is steady, but there’s a slight tremor in it that only someone who knows him well would catch. “Do you have any idea how much time I wasted trying to figure out what happened to you? I went over Mama’s records a hundred times. I looked for loopholes, for mistakes, for anything that might have told me where they sent you. I thought —”

He stops. Swallows. Looks away.

“I thought I failed you,” he says, quieter now. “I was supposed to be the one who knew things. The one who planned ahead. And I couldn’t even figure out that you were still alive.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a hug. It’s stiff and a little awkward — Ray has never been particularly demonstrative — but his arms are tight around you, and his face is pressed into your hair.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he mutters. “I don’t care how smart you are or what Mama thought. Next time, we figure it out together. No more secrets. No more disappearing. Got it?”

When you tell him about Lambda later, Ray doesn’t cry. He just listens with that same intense, analytical focus he’s always had. But his jaw tightens when you describe the experiments, and his knuckles go white where his hands are clasped in his lap.

“You survived,” he says when you finish. It’s not a question. “You survived all of that, and you got yourself out, and you kept going. You’re —”

He shakes his head, a humorless smile flickering across his lips.

“You’re stronger than I ever gave you credit for. I’m sorry I underestimated you.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he means: I’m sorry I let them take you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I grieved you when you were still fighting.

Ray has always been bad with words. But the way he stays close to you for the rest of the night, never more than an arm’s length away, says everything.

RAY — YANDERE VERSION

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, mentions of past trauma and self-harm ideation, dark themes.

Ray’s expression doesn’t change when he sees you. That’s the first sign that something is wrong.

The old Ray — the Ray from Grace Field — would have at least shown something. A flicker of surprise, a sarcastic remark, a raised eyebrow. But the Ray standing in the corner of the hideout watches you enter with dark, unreadable eyes, and his face is utterly blank.

You call his name. He doesn’t respond. You take a step toward him. He still doesn’t move.

Then, very slowly, he smiles. It’s a small, thin smile — the kind he used to wear when he’d figured out a particularly clever part of the escape plan. The kind that meant he was three steps ahead of everyone else.

“There you are,” he says quietly. “I was starting to think I’d have to burn down another facility to find you.”

The words are so casual that it takes you a moment to process them. By then, he’s already closing the distance between you, his footsteps silent on the cold floor.

“You know,” he continues, his voice still eerily calm, “when you disappeared, I thought about burning down Grace Field myself. Right then and there. Just set the whole place on fire and walk into the flames after you. It would have been poetic, don’t you think? The two of us, going out together.”

He stops inches away from you. His hand lifts to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture almost tender.

“But Norman talked me out of it. He said you wouldn’t want that. He said we had to keep going, for the younger kids. So I did. I kept going. I kept planning. I kept waiting.”

His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark and intense, and there’s something almost feverish in them.

“And now you’re back. Just like I knew you would be. Because you’re smart — smarter than me, smarter than Norman, smarter than Mama. That’s why she took you, isn’t it? She was afraid of you. She should have been.”

His grip on your chin tightens slightly. “You’re not leaving again. I don’t care what noble mission Emma drags us on next — you stay where I can see you. Where I can protect you. I spent years thinking you were dead. Years blaming myself. I’m not doing that again.”

Later, when you tell him about Lambda, Ray’s reaction is different from the others. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t offer comfort. He just listens with that same intense, calculating focus, and when you finish, he nods slowly.

“I see,” he says. “So that’s what they did to you.”

He stands up and walks to the corner of the room, where a map of the demon world is pinned to the wall. His fingers trace a path — the location of your Lambda facility, the route you took to escape, the shelter where Barbara and Cislo found you.

“I’m going to find them,” he says, not turning around. “The scientists. The demons. Everyone who laid a hand on you. And I’m going to make sure they regret it.”

His voice is utterly devoid of emotion. That’s what makes it so chilling.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say.

Ray turns back to you, and for a moment, his mask slips. You see the grief underneath — the years of guilt and loneliness and desperate, clawing hope.

“Yes, I do,” he says simply. “Because if I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life afraid that someone will take you away again. And I can’t live like that. I won’t.”

He crosses the room and sits down beside you, his shoulder pressing against yours.

“From now on, we’re a package deal,” he says quietly. “Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you do, I’m there. No arguments. No exceptions.”

He leans his head against yours.

“I lost you once. I’m not strong enough to lose you again.”

NORMAN — NORMAL VERSION

Norman is the last to arrive.

You’ve already reunited with Emma and Ray by the time Barbara and Cislo bring word that the “Boss” is returning from a mission. You don’t make the connection — why would you? In your mind, Norman is still that gentle, pale-haired boy from Grace Field, the one who used to hold your hand during thunderstorms and whisper strategies in your ear during tag.

Then the doors open, and you see him.

He’s taller. Sharper. There’s a weight to his presence now — a quiet authority that makes the Lambda soldiers around him stand at attention. His hair is longer, his shoulders broader, and his blue eyes have a depth to them that wasn’t there before. He looks like a leader. He looks like someone who has seen too much.

He looks at you, and the mask shatters.

“No,” he breathes. The word is barely audible.

He takes a step forward, then another, then he’s crossing the room with the same intense focus he used to bring to every problem, every puzzle, every impossible equation. He stops in front of you, and his hand — trembling, actually trembling, something you’ve never seen from Norman before — reaches out to touch your face.

“Is this real?” he whispers. “Are you — please, tell me this is real. I’ve had dreams like this before. So many dreams. I can’t —”

You catch his hand in yours and press it to your cheek. “It’s real, Norman. I’m here.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you. Then his composure breaks.

Norman — calm, collected, always-in-control Norman — pulls you into his arms and holds you like you’re the only solid thing in a world that’s been crumbling around him. His whole body shakes. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t cry — not quite — but it’s a near thing.

“I thought you were dead,” he says against your hair. “All these years, I thought — I thought you were gone. I looked for you. When I was at Lambda, I searched the records, I asked questions, I did everything I could. But there was nothing. No trace of you. I thought —”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face like you might disappear if he lets go.

“How?” he asks. “How are you here? Where were you?”

You tell him. You tell him about the other Lambda — the one Peter Ratri kept secret, the one where the experiments were even worse. You tell him about the friends you made, the escape you planned, the months of wandering before you found the shelter. Norman listens to every word with an intensity that borders on desperation, as if he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.

When you finish, he closes his eyes and exhales slowly. When he opens them again, there’s something fierce burning behind the blue.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I’m sorry you went through that alone. But you’re here now. You’re safe. And I swear to you —” his voice hardens with conviction — “I will never let anyone hurt you again. Not the demons. Not the Ratri clan. No one.”

He smiles then — the same soft, gentle smile you remember from childhood, the one that always made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

“Welcome home.”

NORMAN — YANDERE VERSION

Warnings: Possessive behavior, obsessive tendencies, dark themes, implied violence toward those who hurt Reader, emotional manipulation, Norman’s canonical willingness to commit extreme acts is amplified.

Norman doesn’t react the way you expect.

When he walks into the hideout and sees you standing there — alive, real, breathing — he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t run to embrace you. He doesn’t even speak.

He just stares.

There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at you. His blue eyes, once so warm and familiar, are now cold and calculating — the eyes of someone who has learned to see the world as a series of problems to be solved, threats to be eliminated. He studies you like you’re an equation he’s been trying to solve for years.

Then, very slowly, he smiles.

It’s not the gentle smile you remember from childhood. This one is sharper, hungrier — the smile of a man who has just found something he thought he’d lost forever and has absolutely no intention of letting it go again.

“You’re late,” he says, his voice light and almost teasing. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

He walks toward you with the same deliberate, measured stride he uses when approaching a diplomatic negotiation or a battlefield. Every step is precise. Controlled. When he reaches you, he doesn’t hug you — instead, he takes your hand in both of his and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” he murmurs against your skin. “Years. I tore through every record in Lambda 7214. I interrogated every scientist, every demon, every collaborator. I burned that facility to the ground, and when I found no trace of you, I thought —”

His grip on your hand tightens, just slightly.

“I thought I had failed you. I thought you were gone forever. And I made myself a promise. If you were dead, then I would burn the entire world down in your name. Every farm. Every demon. Every human who ever collaborated with them. I would erase them all, and when there was nothing left, I would join you.”

He tilts his head, his smile never wavering. “But you’re not dead. You’re here. You came back to me.”

He pulls you closer, one arm sliding around your waist while his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“That changes things,” he says softly. “I still intend to destroy the farms. I still intend to free every child and eliminate every threat. But now I have a new priority.”

His lips brush your ear as he whispers, “You. You are the most important thing in this world. More important than the plan. More important than the promise I made to Emma and Ray. More important than anything. And I will never let anyone take you away from me again.”

Later, when you tell him about your Lambda — the experiments, the torture, the friends who didn’t make it — Norman’s expression doesn’t change. He listens attentively, nodding at the appropriate moments, asking precise, clinical questions about the facility’s location, its layout, the names of the scientists.

When you finish, he stands up and walks to his desk. He pulls out a map and a pen, and he begins to mark coordinates with quick, efficient strokes.

“Thank you,” he says, not looking up. “This information is very helpful.”

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. His smile is still there — calm, pleasant, utterly terrifying.

"Have you ever thought about how small we all are?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" You pause when you step over a pebble, eyes watching as it rolls away from you. "Compared to you, I am just like that rock."

Simeon stops in his tracks as he turns towards you. He tries to read your face, but you're too good at keeping your thoughts hidden. "Are you worried I'll forget you when you're gone?"

"…yeah."

He squeezes your hand. "I won't. I promise you."

And he means it, he'll do everything. You can never leave him. You'll always be his.

C/W: yandere behavior. blood drirnking, blood loss, forced proximity, satan having no morals, noncon body mod, dismemberment, forced codependency, implied that he will eat you when you die. Read at your own discretion please!!!

A/n: am trying out more yandere stuff, stole this from an old oc idea of mine. also once again happy birthday catan<3

Word count: 1.3k words total.

He swears it was an accident, that he didn't put that book there specifically so you could find it and think it would solve your non-existent problem. He's not at fault, of course, he only placed it there and definitely didn't conceal it as the book you thought it was. This is his room, and he has told you countless times before not to randomly grab at any of his books considering that half of them were cursed and not safe for humans.

But of course, you don't listen, do you? You never listen to him. So he had to take measures and ensure that you would finally listen and eliminate all those stupid thoughts of leaving him. Why would you need to? He provides you with everything you'll ever need and want in your short human life—a bed to sleep in, a room to protect you from the elements (and people who want to take you away) and all the love you could ever ask for.

Oh, you're bored? He'll read to you whenever you ask. Are you hungry? He'll buy you your favorite Hell's Kitchen dish. Are you tired? Okay, take his bed. Don't worry, he's only going to hug you from behind while you sleep. He won't do anything, to you anyway, while you're unconscious so stop being so tense and relax into his chest like a good little human. Yes, that's it. He tightens his hold around you, not enough to suffocate, but it sure as hell isn't comfortable. He says he's sorry, that he just loves you and doesn't want you to feel cold, his face burying into you to inhale the scent from your neck.

He knows what he's doing is wrong, that he's being a little selfish, but it's not like you're being nice to him either. He's done everything he could to keep you satisfied and happy, yet all you ever give him in return is your spite and determination to leave him? How could you?

And now here you were, laid on his bed with such a defeated expression he almost purrs in delight. The annoying light in your eyes now dim as you lose all hope, and that's exactly what he wants. Your body is wrapped in gauze that he carefully wrapped around the swollen nubs of what was once your shoulders and pelvis. The 'accident' had cost you your arms and legs, leaving you a husk of what you once were. There was no point in trying to heal them, you didn't need those anyway, he has enough strength to help you do what you need to and carry you where you want, given it's reasonable and within his room of course.

C/W: MDNI SMUT AHEAD: Well, it's nothing as explicit as the predecessor but still. BARBATOS X SIMEON. Jealousy, Possessiveness, possessive behavior, One-Sided pining, dubcon, Voyeurism, Implied Relationships, Multiple Relationships, noncon photography, the boys having questionable morals, Masturbation, yandere shenanigans. Diavolo and Solomon cameo :>>

A/n: technically a kinda sequel to this, but it's not canon so.... Simeon's tavotg extension but with SimeBarb undertones. Actually, it's all overtones.

Word count: 1.8k words total.

Barbatos gets the message sometime while ironing the Prince's clothes for tomorrow. He takes a peek at the preview notification but refuses to open the message until later considering who it was from. Whatever the sorcerer wanted to show him could wait, he tells himself. It doesn't seem to be urgent and if it was, the butler was sure it would be dealt with regardless of his guidance. However, to say that the last message didn't intrigue him would be an understatement. Especially when it elicited a deep wrongness that makes Barbatos worry.

It was a few hours later when Barbatos had a few minutes of free time, he opened his D.D.D. to read the messages. Seeing the blurred photo piqued his interest, what could this human send him that the app's censoring functions activated upon receiving it? Clicking the picture with a mind thinking of all the illegal things he is about to witness, Barbatos prepares to send a reprimand to Solomon. And then the image finally loaded.

Oh.

Oh, my.

Your body is at its limit. Your heart is beating out of your chest, your tail is exhausted, with adrenaline the only thing keeping you going. You don't know where you're going, you can't see where you're going, but all you know is you have to keep swimming.

Keep swimming before he catches you.

A presence, small and barely there, makes you stop and swim back just as you narrowly avoided crashing into another body. But your reflexes were no match when your enemy is built with more limbs that tangle with yours and pull you closer to his body.