Yandere x Reader Oneshots

Goku x Nurse! Reader

[Though my updates will be slow, I promise you that each piece of work I put out is at the best quality and most accurate research I can put into a single chapter. Your patience will not go unnoticed! So, with that in mind, I hope you enjoy this little work I put together. I tried my best to stay true to each character.]
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A short sigh left your lips. Exhaustion from working overtime had left your body heavy and difficult to move. Sitting in your car, you closed your eyes, feeling the sting from sleep depravity burn your eyelids. 

Working as a nurse has it's perks. Meeting new people and connecting with patients was always easy. But on long nights like these, when staff was short by several people, you often wondered whether or not its toll was still worth helping others. 

Another soft sigh left your lips before you stepped out of your run-down car onto the rough, uneven driveway that led to your house. The keys held in your hand made an annoyingly loud jingle as you sluggishly looked for the right key. Your search was short-lived, however, when you reached the main entrance. 

Even in the dead of night, without a direct source of light, you could clearly see that the door was open. You stood there for several moments. Clearly remembering having locked it that morning, you stared at the door, imagining that it would swing open at any second and reveal a stranger with ill intentions. 

With held breath, you cautiously pushed on the aged wood, hearing a loud groan of protest against your hand. The lights were not on, and no reply came  from the cold home, adding to your fear. Cautiously, with light feet, you stepped into the dark house, gently closing the door and locking it behind you. 

The silent atmosphere seemed to hold something sinister. You fumbled along the walls to find a light switch. Finding it, your held breath was finally let out in relief at finding a safe guard and switching it on. (Isn't it funny how we think being in the light is safer than the dark?) 

Your home was quaint, and small, barely having enough space for you alone. You walked into the living room, directly from the entrance hall. Switching on a lamp in the corner, you turned expecting to find a clean room with everything in it's place. However, what you saw made you scream.

Your good friend, Goku, was laid down horizontally on your couch, clutching his side. Blood was leaking through his torn uniform and hand, efficiently staining your cushions and leaking onto the hardwood floor. Several bruises littered his body, painting it a gory purple and deep red. Your high pitched screech immediately woke his unconscious state. He looked alarmed, but it soon melted into confusion at your alarmed response. He sat up weakly, grimacing in pain. When your unholy screeches stopped, his pained expressions changed to a smile.

"How come your so late? You usually get off work a lot earlier." He complained in a childish whine. He acted like he hadn't almost scared you to death. His eyes danced along your frame, however you were too caught up in his messy state to notice.

"What the hell are you on about?" You criticized his innocent attitude. With arms folded, your scared demeanor quickly shifted into one of rage. "Why is it that whenever you get hurt, you have to break into my house? I work at a hospital for a reason!"

He grinned and let out a nervous chuckle. He didn't seem inclined to reply to your harsh questions, only looking down. 

"Oh, yeah, this is absolutely hilarious." You walked across the room towards a cabinet. Finding a bulky medical aid kit inside one of the drawers, you approached the saiyan. "You're bleeding out right now because you think I'm your personal caretaker!"

You treated Goku's wounds with alcohol and stitched the large gashes on his abdomen all the while ranting about his poor choice in medical care. Carefully wrapping gauze around his abdomen and arms, you sealed them with medical tape. By the time you had finished yelling at Goku, he had gone silent, a small smile etched into his chiseled face, however, he held no happy emotions. You set down the medical supplies on the coffee table across from the couch. Sitting on the floor between the two pieces of furniture, your head rested in your bloody hands.