Spinning Dream Delights 【Yandere!Jevil x Reader】

Chapter 9: Mac and Cheese

Painting edit above by - le me. These religious/historic edits are meant for only comedic purposes. I hope I won't trigger anyone, thank you for understanding.
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"Please, we went over this (Y/n)."

For the first time in hundreds of timelines, you heard sorrow and desperation in his apathetic voice.

The searing pain encases over you once your whole body has been knocked out to a wall by an invisible force. Your soul was infected by that damned navy-blue color, forbidding you to move on your own will. But your opponent knew how to hold you still - he was the only person to witness you turn into the corrupted murderer that you are today.

You danced this dance with him over, and over, and over again; memorizing every move, every attack, every blaster that perished you. But you'd naively reset, with no responsibility and nothing to lose anymore, you'd come back to this empty hallway of a church - meeting him. With each RESET, you came back stronger. Your lust for blood has drawn you in endless circles, the very enduring existence of this world trembling within your dusty fingers.

"dirty brother killer." - he'd call you, his voice oozing with loathing all the while penetrating you with piercing bones, his fingers controlling the chains of your soul. But no matter how strong he was, or how enigmatic he thought he was: you both knew that eventually, you'd reach him, your sharp knife slicing through his white shirt.

And so you did. Sending a single blow with your knife - the world would flash before his own eyes. With wide eye-sockets, cyan-blue flames dying out he'd send you a last look of betrayal. He'd tremble for a few seconds, breathing heavily, alas allowing himself to fall into your arms with a melancholic smile.

Diligent fights like these were nothing to you.

"You megalomaniac."

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"That'll be all, just remember, if there's anything that you require or feel like your health is decreasing - please signal the nearby guardsman for an emergency, alright?"

"Yes, I understand. Thank you, doctor."

You laid in your bed, tucked under the duvet like a trembling child. Swaddling away the chilingness in your own comfortable shield of warmth, you toppled into the blankets, relieved to rest your weary feet. Each morning, the same Hathy doctor was assigned to check up on your healing process.

The chattering within Card Castle became louder and louder. The hearing calls of a Grand Lighter rising back up from a deleterious fight has dwelled in every ear, swaying everyone with jarring gossips. Some defied that you were resurrected from a near-death state, while others bequeath to the saying of you fighting an unknown entity of pure disarray and chaos - just to protect your beloved teammates.

"She's alive, o hail the merciful knight!" - they would say "Please may her awakening bring peace to our authoritarian King."

You were the hot talk in this nation, though you were oblivious of it, because most of the time - you stayed within your spacious bedroom, locked away from any pedestrians or yet alone outside help. After all, the entire army of royal guards now protected the floor in which you dwelled in.

You sighed, caring less to count how much guards stood beside your bedroom door outside. Feeling yourself lean back on your pillows, you gazed at your patched injuries. But something else seized your guard: