━━━━━ yandere!crown prince x 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!transmigrated!reader
↳ A coma sends Y/n to another world; and to his terror, it's none other than an otome game! Luckily, he's a mere side character-the supportive, gentle brother of the female lead. Y/n's only...
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"What is this exactly?"
Y/n's fingers skim the mark on his neck — slow, unsure, almost — cautious. "I've... never — Your Highness, did you just mark me?"
The mark isn't subtle. Anyone with eyes would notice it: pitch-black, clear, unmistakably the royal symbol. It feels like a claim — like the Crown Prince has staked something on him. Tied him to...
Arion reaches out, his palm cradling Y/n's cheek. His thumb traces over the mark with a tenderness that ironically, clashes terribly with the intensity that led to all this.
Y/n is stuck at the crossroads between disbelief and resignation; he knew what he signed up for, but the sheer fervor behind Arion's actions — the devotion, the obsession — still hits him hard; it takes his breath away. The Prince's eyes practically glow with affection and something darker. Whatever this is, Y/n knows he is now tangled — caught — by the yandere male lead.
A joke would help. Something light. Something to break this tension, but his throat refuses to cooperate. And Arion's grip tightens; it's subtle, but it's there. He holds Y/n's gaze in place.
He inhales sharply as warmth circles the mark again — like Arion is claiming it, claiming him, over and over.
"That is a way to say it," Arion replies, voice calm despite everything simmering beneath it. "Perhaps it was done in a moment of desperation."
How can he say that so calmly while staring at the royal crest he burned into my neck?
"Rumors will fly, Your Highness," Y/n finally manages. "I don't think helping my sister warranted this level of desperation."
"Merely helping your sister?" Arion echoes. His breath grazes Y/n's ear. "You left out how you put yourself at risk. Do you truly not understand how to value your own life? Livio — do you think your sister's life is worth more than yours?"
Y/n freezes.
He doesn't have an answer. Maybe he doesn't want to have one. Maybe Arion is right — maybe he was reckless.
"Your selflessness is admirable," Arion murmurs, "but I would rather you be safe. It is a selfish wish of mine — yet my greatest fear..." His voice dips, softening. "...is you getting hurt. The mark is both a warning and a reminder."
Y/n swallows hard.
"Is it permanent?" His voice comes out small, confused. "The mark... does it stay?"
A flicker in Arion's eyes says everything before his lips move.
"Yes," he admits quietly. "It does."
Ah.
The Crown Prince is either deeply in love or deeply obsessed. Possibly both: definitely both.
This is a problem. Now he has to hide his neck — but Arion definitely won't like that. What's worse is how oddly calm he is about the whole thing. Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet that he has the royal crest seared into his skin. But marks in otome game worlds always have another purpose.
A bond. A tie.
Which means Y/n is now —
...Oh.
Where is Iris when you actually need her?
[Iris.] Y/n calls irritably in his mind. [Iris!]
After a moment, her grating voice slips in. [Don't ask me what's wrong with the Crown Prince. When I said to deviate from the narrative, I didn't mean to make him obsessed with you.' No player has ever managed that. Really impressive, but completely unexpected.]
[I didn't ask about that] Y/n snaps internally. [I'm talking about what you pulled. You nearly got everyone killed.]
[Oh, that.] She sounds bored. [I warned you there'd be consequences.]
[I almost died.]
[Then you'd respawn in your original world.]
His original world?
What original world? He has nothing left there.
A squeeze on his arm pulls him back; Arion is watching him sharply.
Y/n only now realizes he's trembling. His legs feel unsteady, vision swimming — system backlash, maybe.
[Wow. He's... intense. Even scares me a bit.]
[Shut up and go away.]
Her presence disappears, thankfully.
Y/n breathes out and rubs his temples. Today has been — too much. First day at the academy, and already chaos. The magical beast infiltration alone will spread through the empire by evening. And the mark? His father is going to send an absurdly long, furious letter.
"Rest," Arion says softly. "Come. I'll help you to your room."
Y/n has enough energy to muster up a smile. "Smooth, Your Highness. Trying to enter my bedroom?"
"I assure you, Livio, I am far more romantic than that. I'd save it for the wedding night."
Wedding.
Already?
Y/n has no idea how the pacing spiraled into this so quickly.
"Whatever," he mutters. "Just get me to the room. I feel dizzy."
He barely stands before servants burst in, panting, hauling potions and supplies.
"Y-Your Highness! Apologies — we came as fast as — were either of you hurt?"
Y/n sighs. They're thirty minutes late. That could have cost lives.
Gasps echo behind them, but neither of them cares. Y/n focuses on walking without limping too obviously; the last thing he wants is a dramatic princess carry.
They both notice the servants' stolen glances toward the mark; of course they noticed. By the time Y/n sinks into the bed, every muscle in his body gives out. The sheets feel impossibly soft — he might melt into them. Fingers thread gently through his hair, slow and careful.
"Your Highness," Y/n mumbles, eyes half-closed, "you're not going to do anything stupid, right? Threaten people... kill them..."
Arion hums low.
"Sleep, Livio. I'll tend to your wounds."
Right.
Sleep.
That's good.
He can rest.
He completely misses how Arion never actually answers the question.
