Pokemon-Yandere!(Male Reader)

Chapter 8

Nemona sat in her dimly lit room, cradling the Y/n body pillow in her arms as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Her room, once tidy and organized, now bore signs of her growing obsession. Posters of Y/n lined the walls, some of them crinkled from being touched and stared at too many times. There were shelves filled with trinkets he'd given her, and a whole drawer stuffed with clothes of his that she had "borrowed" over the years, each one neatly folded and cared for as though it were a sacred artifact.

Nemona whispered softly into the pillow's fabric, her lips brushing against it as if it were Y/n himself.

Nemona: "You don't even know, do you? How much I think about you... about us. Every single battle... every single moment we've shared has led to this."

She buried her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply as if she could somehow pull his presence from the inanimate object.

Nemona: "It's not just about the battles anymore, Y/n. It's never been just that. I thought it was at first... when we were kids. Battling you made my heart race, made me feel alive. But now..."

She pulled back and looked down at the pillow, her fingers tracing over Y/n's printed face with a slow, deliberate tenderness.

Nemona: "Now, it's more. It's so much more than just battling."

Her eyes grew distant, glazed over as she let herself get lost in her memories. She thought back to the first time they battled as kids, the rush of excitement she'd felt when Y/n had defeated her. It wasn't humiliation that struck her then—it was something deeper. A spark of something she hadn't understood until now. And every battle after that, every time they clashed and grew stronger together, her feelings for him had intensified.

Nemona: "You made me who I am, Y/n. You're the only one who truly sees me. No one else understands the thrill of the fight like we do. No one else can give me what you do."

Her grip on the pillow tightened, her breath quickening. The room felt small, suffocating, with only the echo of her voice and her ever-growing obsession filling the air. She stood up abruptly, still holding the pillow, and began pacing around the room.

Nemona: "But then she showed up... Carmine."

The name tasted bitter on her tongue, like poison. Her hands clenched the pillow even tighter, almost as if she were afraid Carmine would snatch it away from her.

Nemona: "She thinks she can get close to you. She thinks she has the right to be near you, talk to you, laugh with you like I do."

Her eyes darkened, and her voice dropped to a low growl as she glared at the wall, as if Carmine herself were standing in front of her.

Nemona: "She doesn't know you like I do. She doesn't love you like I do. You're mine, Y/n. You've always been mine."

Her steps grew faster, her pacing more erratic. Each turn around the room brought a more manic energy to her movements, her thoughts spiraling deeper into obsession.

Nemona: "She can't have you. No one can. I won't let her... I won't let anyone take you away from me."

She stopped suddenly, her eyes fixating on the wall where a picture of Carmine was pinned. Nemona had drawn over the photo, crossing out Carmine's face with thick, dark lines. Her gaze was unwavering, her breath ragged. Slowly, she walked over to the small desk in the corner of her room. There, among her scattered belongings, was a small, sharp knife.

She picked it up, the cold metal glinting in the soft light, and turned back to the picture. Her hand was steady as she twirled the knife between her fingers, her lips curling into a twisted smile.

Nemona: "You thought you could get close to him, didn't you, Carmine? You thought you could steal him away from me?"

Her voice dripped with venom, but there was a sickening sweetness beneath it—like honey coating a razor blade. She took a deep breath, holding the knife up in front of her, her eyes locked on the image of Carmine.

Nemona: "But you'll never have him. Never."

With a swift, almost effortless motion, she threw the knife at the picture. It sliced through the air, embedding itself directly between Carmine's eyes with a soft thud. Nemona stood there, staring at the picture with wide, unblinking eyes, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

And then she giggled.

The sound was soft at first, a quiet, unsettling giggle that echoed in the empty room. But it grew, bubbling up from deep inside her, spilling out into a full-blown, hysterical laughter. She clutched her stomach, bending over as her maniacal laughter filled the room, her voice cracking with delirium.

Nemona: "She thought—she thought she could take you from me! But no... no one can! You're mine! You've always been mine!"

Her laughter continued, almost uncontrollable, until she suddenly stopped, her face snapping back into an eerie calm. She turned back to the bed, where she had laid out the clothes she'd stolen from Y/n—his favorite hoodie, an old hat, even a pair of his shoes.

She slipped into the hoodie, her body trembling with excitement as the fabric enveloped her. She ran her fingers over the sleeves, closing her eyes as she imagined Y/n being there with her, imagined his arms around her, his voice calling her name.

Nemona: "Now it's like you're here with me..."

Her gaze flickered back to the pillow on her bed, the one with Y/n's face staring up at her. She picked it up again, hugging it tightly, her voice soft and almost tender now.

Nemona: "We're perfect for each other, you know? It's not just about battling anymore. It's about us. I want you to love me... just as much as I love you."

She kissed the pillow, her lips lingering on the fabric for a moment before she pulled back, her eyes filled with an unhinged adoration.

Nemona: "But I won't let anyone get in the way of that. Not Carmine, not anyone. You're mine, Y/n... and I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

Her fingers tightened around the pillow as she sat back down on the bed, her mind already drifting off into a world where she and Y/n were together, forever, battling side by side. A world where no one else could interfere.

Nemona: "One day, Y/n... one day, you'll understand. We'll be together, and no one will ever come between us."

Her voice was a soft whisper now, almost tender, as she snuggled back into the pillow, her eyes closing with a content smile.

Nemona: "You're mine... and I'm never letting you go."