Call Me Yours (Yandere x Reader Oneshots)

M. Patient x F. Psychiatrist

"I advised you to stay on the medication."

A faint sorry was uttered from a white-haired male's lips but it was obviously not heartfelt. The male in question was smiling like a fool, rocking back and forth on the comfortable couch. The office itself was meant for comfort, especially as patients needed to be at ease in their environments. Small plush toys were scattered around the room with fluffy coats and peaceful appearances, particularly for that male. He always needed something to hold on to.

"You keep saying that, but I have evidence to suggest you feel otherwise," the (h/c) haired woman sighed, "Is there a reason you don't take your pills?"

"I don't need them, dearest."

The girl in question sighed, pulling up the male's previous history on the computer. There was little question about the need for medication. The male was in the custody of the state government for his crimes but was never truly convicted for them. Rather, he had been placed in a maximum-security insane asylum. There were many protests about it, especially after all the people he had killed or injured in all of his stunts.

In fact, the first time he had been brought to the (h/c) haired woman's office, it was in a straightjacket. Most, if not all the time, he was restrained in such a way, not being trusted in the slightest. If not for his violence towards others, then there was great concern about himself. He had suffered severe depression since his early childhood, attempting to kill himself over ten times in their custody alone. The male possessed abandonment issues and exhibited much more violence than was normal even in mental asylum patients. Thus, there was a lot of work cut out for the woman.

"Well, now, I know that isn't true," she hummed, scrolling down the page and beginning to type, "Have there been any side effects?"

"Love," the male giggled, his cheeks a bright pink.

"Let's see. I removed you from Prozac to Lexapro. Increased your dose from one pill to one and a half after your breakfast meal. Is it that it's not effective? Perhaps if we up the dose, it will give a greater result."

"Nothing can make me feel as perfect as I do with you, dearest."

The (h/c) haired woman only continued to ignore the male's rantings. It wasn't unusual for patients to develop unhealthy attachments to their therapists or psychiatrists. Thus, she dismissed it, knowing it was the most effective way to remain professional and helpful. That being said, she could not be able to help him as it were. He refused to continue taking his medication on his own. The guards had to hold him down and force him to take them by court order.

"Do the pills taste bad?"

"Not when I'm with you," the male cooed.

"Then are you worried about becoming addicted to your medication? You do have a tendency to attach to things rather easily."

"And you, dearest."

(Y/n) sighed, turning off the computer and making her own notes on the subject. He was certainly not the easiest patient that she had on her plate, but, when put in perspective, she did have many unstable individuals in her care. Compared to some of the others that constantly threatened her and made crude comments, the white-haired male was somewhat of a blessing in disguise, not that she would tell him. Above all, she wished to remain professional.

"Since you clearly aren't giving me any information today, we'll have to see one another a different day, Takashi," the woman sighed, "Guards, please come in."

The white-haired male gave a frown, pouting even as he was placed in restraints by the guards. Not trusted with his own body, the straight jacket prevented him from both harming himself or others though namely the latter. He gave a regretful gaze over his shoulder at the working (h/c) haired woman. The male hated to leave her, but he wasn't permitted to spend all of his time with her.