(I'm obsessed with somebody help

READER IS A GIRL IN THIS ONE

IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO TOMIE IS YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN'T READ THIS BC YOU'RE GOING TO BE CONFUSED AND A LITTLE HURT ABOUT HOW THIS PLAYS OUT LOL?

Based off of Junji Ito's story: Top Model

Yandere Maven)

Maven smiles down at his wife, watching as Iris tries to ignore his presence. His chest and stomach tingled at the mere thought. He was powerful here. Next to her, he was the king. And nothing anybody could do had prevented it. She was the sign of his accomplishment. He had heard how beautiful it was, but couldn't believe it. Life like this was beautiful. Everything here, everything in hands, was beautiful. 

"My sister," Iris gained his attention again, "is coming to visit Norta. She has requested to stay here, specifically."

Maven cocks his head, "Have I been incorrectly recalling you say she will not leave the Lakelands?"

"You are not incorrect, my king. But it seems she is..." Iris blinks, scanning the letter in her hand over like she's searching for an explanation to an inner joke, "coming for my mother's behalf."

"Family trait, I assume?"

Iris only nods, biting onto her gums as she tries to hide your cursive handwriting from Maven's eyes. Definitely, a family trait that she didn't inherit, she basks. Because with a trait that you and mother have, she too hasn't the clue how your mother fell for your father after so long.

"But she won't appear in the public eye, though." Iris follows up.

"She's shy, then?"

After a pause, she lowers her gaze. "Unnecessarily."

Maven stands far from his wife as she greeted her returning sister. He felt unsure about this, having two compelling nymphs to group together. Maybe to take him down. Maybe to corrupt his country. He could feel the tips of his fingers warming at the thought. All the things he won't see. 

He found himself staring at the back of his wife's head, his curiosity about what her sister might look like suddenly capturing him completely. Long wavy hear? Eyes like the ocean? Will you be an exact clone as your sister? It isn't until Iris turns her body does he see the true beauty of you.

You were like nothing he had ever seen. Out of all the women he had ever met, your exotic Lakelander beauty made his lungs gasp for air. It was like for the first time, the light tingle in his chest seemed to appear. It was gentle. It was pleasant.

"Greetings, your highness." You smile.

He found himself lost in your eyes. Your eyes, something about them so sadistic. Like you had a murderous thought you couldn't keep to yourself. Like everything was a huge secret. Just talking to you reminded him of how poor his social skills were like he ever had any. You made him feel like the forgetful prince he was only mere years ago.

Your beauty captivated him utterly. Right then and there, he decided to make you his. 

Even though Maven doubted he knew anything about love, that was the best way he could describe his feelings towards you. No, what he was experiencing was a strong desire to have you. Something that will consume the King of Norta.

When Maven tried to convince you to show your face to the public of Lakelands to show the intertwinement between Lakelands and Norta, you refused. And yet, you both still managed to enjoy each other's company in private, places not even Iris would venture to. It wasn't just your looks that took Maven, it was your personality. Your flirtatiousness, enjoying your moments of being a tease and watches Maven alter from under you. You were something of a mystery to him. Because everytime you laughed, smiled at him. Your eyes remained the same. Low, like you were tired. Like you were dying to just get something interesting. Patient, cold eyes. 

"(Y/N)," Maven's hands wrapped around your shoulder. You turn to face him, understanding the hard, strong grasp that he had on you. Like he was keeping you from running. He leaned into your face, staring into your eyes. You refused to budge. You didn't want to emerge yourself into his deadly obsession. 

You can see the madness grow in his blue eyes as he gazes down at you, "I love you." The words fall from his mouth as even he is surprised by them. Clearly taken aback by himself as he tilts his head. 

You lean in close to him, his words of romance nearly falling upon your tongue. He closes his eyes, his breathing becoming slow as you pull him close. 

His eyes began to widen as he heard your cackling.

Heh, heh... Ohohoho...

You held your hand in front of your mouth, shoulder bouncing with your chuckles. He had captured you in a world of surprise, giving you something to laugh about. You may have enjoyed your moments with the King of Norta, entertained by his petty attempts of pleasing you while he threw around himself like a little puppet fit just for your fingers. You couldn't understand what all the hype was about. For he was just a man, like your sister reported to you. Finding you another one to play with. 

"What's so funny?" He asks, his fists heating with a familiar sense of fire.

"Your face, your figure... It's all so normal." You cackle out, crossing your arms and giving him a backward glance. "Don't think that you are my type."

Maven sits alone at his bed, burning away running fabric from his blanket. Normal. That single word had given him restless nights. That his misery, sacrifices and everything he risked for where he is now is just normal. Brushing away his pain, his attempt at healing. Something to keep him sane again where Mare and Thomas are gone. Normal. 

He was at the moment he despised you for that insult, he still loved you. He still found the weird desire to make you his. Something that lurked just beneath his bones, at the back of his mind. Which is why he would endure all of the words and teases you constantly through his way. He tried to earn your love the good and old-fashion way, by working for it. Anything to make you his. Yet no matter how hard he tried, it was not enough to please you. You even had the audacity to say that there were countless of other men who had put in more effort than him.

"(Y/N)," he grabbed your shoulders in a familiar fashion. You find yourself crossing your arms again, just looking up at him. "Why don't you understand how I feel for you? Do you know all the things I've done to be put here? How much it hurts to bear with you doing this to me?" You can hear the broken prince in his voice. Ordinary. Your favorite word. 

You find yourself laughing again, leaning forward as you rest your fingertips on your lips.

"Ah ha ha ha... At least you have a sense of humor. But compared to my sacrifices, you're not even on the scale."

"The scale?" He took a step back.

"Oh come on, do you really think you're my equal."

His mind began to race, trying to process the unusual words coming out of your mouth. How could you say this? You should be grateful. Or maybe he should be grateful. Happy that the princess of Norta gives him this attention, the teenager he is. For a minute, he forgets Iris exists. 

"How high up do you think you are?" He accused. His burning love became hatred for a princess who'd rather act like a spoiled brat. "And let's take a look inside of your head. You know you're not the most beautiful princess in the regions, don't you? Compared to your sister, you don't even make the rank. But I bet you know that, yourself." 

He leans into your frozen form, his blue eyes sharpening. "And that's why you're so scared to go outside. You know there isn't a perfect cell in your body."

You just stand still, taking in his eyes with yours. Your gaze almost swallows him whole. And for a second, he can swear your eyes turned all white.

"Who do you think you're talking to? Be careful of what you say to me." You just turn around, leaving the room with Maven watching you walk. Your stance was elegant like you had just won a war as you didn't even give him a backward glance. 

His heart felt like it exploded as he watched you walk away unphased. What had he done? What has he lost? He looks down at his hands, wondering what they are capable of. 

He was walking down the hall, dwelling in his troubled thoughts while wondering how to obtain your love again. His hands shook. He wanted anything with you. He wanted everything with you. He wanted you.

And when he saw you walking down the hall, opposite to him, he stopped. And you stopped, too. You crossed your arms with a smirk, waiting for him to cower from under you. He wanted to say so much, tell you everything about what he feels in his gut. But he couldn't find the words. All he could find was you, standing there, almost taunting him with your gaze. 

"Got something on your mind?" You taunt, watching his blue eyes flare at his words. You lean forward again, smiling as you take steps closer to him. "Or am I just that hard to get over?"

He chuckled, finding his personality again as he chose not to surrender under you. Your eyebrow switched, displeased by this.

"Well, with how young and idiotic your choices are, I suppose you won't be king for very long."

His head jabbed forward and you could feel the warmth in the area grew rapidly.

You smile, "I'm sure if you hit the streets, you could still find a few reds who would be paying customers."

It was the kind of words that struck deep, turning his vengeful feelings towards you into a murderous fantasy that made him blind with rage. When he opened his eyes he saw you, hunched over, craddling your face. He realized his world had turned into something with no going back. There was no way he was going to face war with the Lakelands over something you rightfully deserved. 

"What have you done to me?" You yelled, craddling your burnt cheek with one hand. He grabbed your wrist forcefully, burning you more as he dragged you through the halls. 

You, a princess with a sharp tongue and a malicious personality, found yourself in a Norta cell deep within the castle. You cower in the corner of your little room, hand still on your face as Maven looks down at you.

You run your hand across your scar, the edges reaching your jaw and the bridge of your nose. It burned with each caress from your hand, but you didn't want to let him see what he had done to you.

He crouched in front of your cowering figure, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"Can I see it?" He sounded innocent, his face only twisting when you denied him. He grabbed your wrist again, noticing your cringe as he eyes your burns. A feeling curled from within him, gentle at first, but growing into a squirming pleasure and satisfaction. 

"It's beautiful," he cooed as he stared at you. You can only stare back, biting your lips as you begin to enjoy how gently he started holding you. You find yourself placing a hand under his chin, quickly pulling him into a kiss.

It was weird to see how far he'd go to pull you onto his level. The next morning he woke up oddly relieved. Like he had just completed his life goal. But when he found you laying down in his room, he thought of himself cheated of a divine punishment. 

Your face and wrist were completely flawless, beautiful. It was impossible. Burns like that can't heal overnight. He didn't even consider how you got out of your cell. He tried to come up with the most reasonable answer. A healer took you out and healed you themselves. But somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew this was very unlikely. 

"Sorry I didn't tell you, I heal really fast. Family trait." You say flatly. 

"But it was a burn." A branding, his mind spoke after his words. You giggle at him, hands relaxed on his shoulders as he sits next to you weakly.

"So just because you're so low, you wanted me to be ruined like you?"

Painful words that made his eyes flare and his rest digest his basic human thinking skills. He cups your cheeks in his hands, tackling you to the ground. It was the most primal he had ever felt. A deep desire rang deep in his chest, reminding him how much he loves you. He felt like an abomination, something not quite human as his chest leaped out of his chest. His brain had left him. He felt nothing but rage and desire for you. 

The screams you gave only fueled him more as he grabbed at the skin of your face, looking for anything to feel. Your flesh melted away under his touch felt like silk and cotton. It was the most beautiful he had ever seen you when he finally had taken his hands away. It was a ghastly imagine that greeted him, something he couldn't look away from.

And on the other side of the door, Iris placed her hand on the doorknob after she heard your screaming. No, she reminds herself. It'll all be over soon. Something she wished she had inherited the family trait. 

He had thought you died. You didn't move, not even a twitch of your fingertips. He stared at you for a second. But his blood ran cold when your eyes immediately found his. Your soulless eyes, the same as always. Almost doubting him and his ability. He felt so cold with your body there, alone and bare for him to see. You couldn't move. You didn't heal. You might as well have been dead.

Maven snapped his fingers, a flame flying to his hand. He felt like a pathetic man with you in front of him like this. He felt like he'd never be on the scale. And like the careless man he is, he had no hesitation as he set your body on fire and didn't let it stop until he couldn't make sense of your doubting eyes anymore. 

The days that followed were nothing but a haze for Maven. Everywhere he went, he was on edge. Waiting for the sentinels to come to take him away or for Iris to make her attack. But no, everything was normal. Iris acted like she always did, almost like she had forgotten about her sister entirely. It almost made him feel insane. 

He hated sitting in his room, knowing what he did on that carpet. He felt spineless looking down at the small patch of ash still burnt into the material. At least you didn't survive the fire. 

He sighs, beginning to unbutton his shirt. A nice bath wouldn't kill him. It might even relax him after everything that had happened. He walked into his bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror as he undressed. Ordinary. He almost laughs at the word now. He had gotten away with it. He had gotten away with burning the witch, or whatever (Y/N) was. 

Standing in his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror, he was about to be reunited with a familiar face after hearing a recognizable voice from behind him. 

Across the tiles, sitting in his bathtub was you. With no clothing, flawless, beautifully perfect. Except, this wasn't the same (Y/N) that perished in the fire. Reborn. 

It almost makes you wonder how many (Y/N)'s are crawling around in this cruel, cruel world of his.