Corruption (Yandere Various x Reader)

Yandere Mello! x Reader /Oversight/

A/N: So, I'm back again. Hope all of you have had a Merry Christmas, if you celebrate it, or that you enjoyed any other festivity you practise in December. Here I am with a one-shot on Mell .

Honestly, knowing why he did such things to you didn't make the situation any better. In the contrary, ignorance is bliss, and without that you knew that this game would only repeat itself, again and again until he got tried of it and decided to throw your life in disarray again.

He only gave you a marginal forewarning at most when he was bored and wanted to play, and that was only when he was feeling particularly merciful. It could just as well be part of his sadism, to alert you of an upcoming activity through sly hints and vague clues. All that to make your mind run in circles, to make you catastrophize and cause your thoughts to cannibalize themselves.

At this point in your "relationship", you wouldn't put anything past him. After all, he had callously coerced you into this game. No – baited would be a better word.

Panting, you ducked under a rusty conveyer belt, doing your best to slow down your breathing so that you could hear something beyond the pounding of your heart. Not an easy task, with all the all the adrenaline infused in your bloodstream and your primordial instincts screaming at you to keep on running.

Inwardly, you cursed Mello twice, thrice. Only in your head because you didn't dare spew all the insults and swear words out aloud. Such indications of desperation would only draw him like a sharp is attracted to the smell of blood in the water.

The only other sounds you deciphered besides the ones you were wrestling to suppress, was the howling of the wind and the occasional hoot of an owl as the birds cleaned themselves after a good night's hunt. No sign of your pursuer; yet.

Allowing yourself a brief reprieve, you unfurled from your crouching position and leaned your head against one of the supports of the machine, all while keeping your hackles raised high. You had no other choice but to. He could be very close, just tucked away in the shadows like one of the monsters in a child's book, waiting to spring out. And then you'd have to haste away before he could capture you again.

That man and his games – you knew how he adored having you in this frenzied state. That mixture of paranoia and hope, the state of the human mind as desperation made it trapeze the hair-fine line between rationality and hysteria, all spiced with the bittersweetness that uncertainty brought. He found that exact concoction very tilting to behold. Like a drug addict he would prod and taunt and chase you into producing that exact reaction, and it made him highly irrational.

You could acutely feel how the chase was affecting you – it made the world sharper, the sounds louder, made the ratty worker overalls you had thrown on to conceal your white clothes itch more than they should. White, to juxtapose his black. White, because it was yet to be sullied by blood, because it made you easier to spot.

A loud clanking made you jerk, nearly banging your head against the outdated machinery and giving your location away. You didn't know if Mello had earnestly tripped over something, or if he was just playing poltergeist to spook you into moving. All in all, it only served to fuel your fear. What was it?

Only when he leisurely strolled into the factory hall, letting his boots clicking against the dusty floor, all while noisily munching on a bar of dark chocolate, did you know where he was. Had the previous blunder been on purpose and he was continuing to toy with you, or had it been a misstep and saw it as futile to hid himself any further? The amused smirk on his face didn't help give you answers.

While you quietly propped yourself back up on your feet, you kept your eyes glued on what you could see of him from your hiding place. It was unfair just how inconspicuous he could appear to be. Just a man in his early twenties, he looked rather harmless.