Fantasy Male X Female Oneshots

The Bad Room (Yandere)

Where do bad children go?

Do they get punished and sent to bed in your house?

Do they get told no dinner? Go to your room? Go to bed?

Y/N often wondered why her siblings were told to go to one room alone when they misbehaved. The doorframe was painted red, heavy wood, built differently than in other houses... Than the rest of the doors in her house. Both the door frame and the door were the same color, same wood, almost as if it was a cage. A trap.

The children would gather around as the 'bad ' child in question walked shakily down the hall, towards the red door with the scary light. Not that it was really so scary. But the hall was dark. There were no lights, no electricity down this hall. It was never cleaned. Filled will cobwebs except for the oath you walked to get to the door. The hall itself was filled with old paintings whose eyes followed you everywhere you went. They pierced through your soul.

But.... Nanna always brought the children back before they opened the door. Most of them had learned. The orphans feared this woman. She was evil. She would scold them the entire time,.and watch them.as they walked down the dark scary hall.

Y/N however, was a different breed. She wasn't afraid. She quite often found herself sitting at the end of the hall in the middle of the night. Watching. Waiting.

Everyone in a while she would see shadows cross the door through the erie candle light. Or whatever cast such a soft blue light. It wasn't a scary color. It felt calm. Sometimes it would change. It would go red to match the door, and runes and upside down crosses would appear. But, she only felt sad. Whatever was in there wanted out. Just like she did.

Nanna caught her stealing a cookie once. She slapped her across the face, and dug her upstairs. Forced her to walk down the hall to the door, and called her back just when she got to the door. Her fingertips brushed the wood and a loud growl came from the other side. Nanna and the other children were scared, but Y/N just smiled, pet the door again, and walked back to Nanna.

Over the years Y/N would sneak.things under the red door. A drawing one day, food another, flowers, candy because whatever it was really liked candy, toys...

When she got older, and had her pictures taken she took one for herself. Nanna was furious, and beat her. She left her laying in the kitchen floor thinking she was unconscious. Nanna turned the lights off, and left the room. No one came for her. They didn't care, or were to scared. She couldn't blame them. She was the weird child. The one Nanna couldn't punish easily. They disliked her. The resented her courage.

Y/N pulled herself up, and dragged herself up the stairs brokenly, picture tucked away in her bra for safety. Nanna was just coming down to get a drink when she passes her quietly and quickly. " I do hope you are going to bed Y/N."

" No, I'm going to talk to a friend you ruthless harpy. " She muttered continuing to walk.

" Excuse me young lady?" She turned to see if she had heard her right.

Y/N just smiled, and turned down the dark hall. The creepy hall. She'd cleaned it on a regular basis, and spoke softly as she went. Telling each person in each painting hello as she went by. She had just sat down against the door. " Sorry I'm late Peter. " She sighed. She'd named whatever it was after a few years. It wouldn't talk to her, but she didn't mind. It listened, and that was enough. Over time she'd seen a total of four repeatedly horrid children literally thrown into the room. They never came back out. She imagined their bones were in there somewhere picked clean.

The only communication she had with it was it asking what she looked like. His hand writing was elegant. Perfection. The script was written on a clean sheet of parchment. That of which they didn't have in the house at all. " Nanna was particularly violent today. My pictures came in. It's funny.. I'm old enough to escape this hell, and yet I can't. She won't let me. Anyway, " she paused hearing something slide down the door on the other side. Peter had given her his attention. " Anyway. I got one of them for you. It's nothing special. Just a picture. I didn't dress up or anything. " She laughed.