Yandere x Reader Oneshots

Yandere Prince x Thief! Male Reader

((ITS STILL TECHNICALLY MONDAY OKAY IM NOT LATE. I've been sick this week, so I haven't had all the time I usually do to write, sorry.

Now, here's this. Featuring the ever-elusive bottom yandere, a slow descent into madness, and a terribly cheesy line I couldn't help but include.

This chapter does contain some mentions of sex, but nothing explicit. You should be fine.))

Prince Cattian waved away the caterers with a sigh. They returned to the kitchen, putting their finishing touches on the night's hors d'oeuvres. He had gathered the supposed best chefs in the kingdom, yet none of the food would be good enough for his father's party. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, now tousled from his constant anxious meddling.

The ballroom had been cleaned six times, the guest list had been heavily reviewed over and over again, and these cooks were renowned for the finest meals in the land, yet none of it was good enough. It was never good enough! Cattian himself wasn't so picky. A friendly old maid of his had once given him a peasant stew used for curing colds, and he had gulped it down. It was his father Cattian was worried about - a king used to living, well, like royalty. Everything had to be perfect for his upcoming celebration, of himself, of course.

Cattian wasn't one for royal balls, but it was duty to attend and be the second most regal individual in attendance. He had been trained in proper behavior from a young age, and was expected to follow rules of etiquette to the letter. After all, since he didn't yet hold any power, his only real responsibility was to present himself well.

The young man flinched as a rough voice barked out his name, a few coughs punctuating the call. His father, no doubt. "Coming, father!" Cattian shouted, running to the study where the king was. The old man coughed again, the shortness of breath reddening his large, splotchy cheeks. He was dressed in his finest, including the leopard fur cloak that marked his status as the monarch. The ball was in an hour, after all.

"Boy," the king rasped, "Is everything ready?"

No, Cattian said in his head, biting his cheek, I've spent the last three weeks rolling in mud. "Yes, father."

"The dishes done? The ballroom cleaned?"

"Yes, and yes." His father looked him over skeptically before breaking into another coughing fit. Cattian sighed. A sickening gulp sounded as the king swallowed a vial of medicine. It wouldn't do for the people to know their leader was ill; it would only invite rebellion and foreign adversaries. "I'm going to get myself ready," Cattian said, turning away. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you," he added under his breath.

The ball was as lavish as always. Live musicians played from a corner, the smooth melodies washing over the dancers. Gowns and suits of all different colors swirled across the dancefloor.

Cattian came down the spiral staircase with a sigh. He was late, of course, but he was supposed to be. Only the servants were to greet the first guests. Now, about an hour in, he was to interact with his subjects.

He wove carefully through the crowd, exchanging smalltalk with a few counts and the like. His eyes darted nervously around, hoping to avoid -

"Your highness!" a shrill voice called out. Before Cattian could react, piles of silk slammed into his body. "Your highness, your highness, your highness! Hi, your highness!"

Cattian forced a smile. He had to be polite to his guests, no matter how infuriatingly irritating they were. "Good evening, Duchess Elizabeth. How is the night treating you?"