[Yandere Imaginary Friend] Fears (Patreon)

content: gender neutral reader, horror-comfort?

Looking back, your childhood fears were restricted to a very small number of threats, many of which had a simple solution. You remember the time you popped a horror book from under your pillow, scanning the pages with the adrenaline of someone breaking the rules: your parents forbade you from engaging with such materials, warning that this kind of nonsense would give you nightmares.

They were unfortunately right. That night you shivered under your blanket, convinced that the patch of darkness in the corner of the room was a ghoul ready to tear you to pieces. A foreign weight dented the mattress right next to you, and you almost shrieked.

Are you cold, your imaginary friend asked. You shook your head, then pointed to the wall across. There’s a monster over there; you confessed with a trembling voice. The twisted creature immediately sprung into action, somersaulting towards the mysterious intruder. His hollow eyes shone from the shadows, narrowed in an amused grin. You mean your fancy coat, he said almost mockingly, holding the item in his claws and dangling it for you to see.

There’s no place for monsters here, he added with unmovable confidence. Your imaginary friend walked back to your hiding spot, stroking your head affectionately. I’ll eat them right up. He flashed you his many rows of teeth, then pretended to swallow up something. You finally relaxed and chuckled at his silly display.

From that moment on, you were no longer frightened by ghosts, or demons, or any other concoction of the troubled mind. Your nightmarish friend made sure to remind you he would always be there to keep scary things away. Nothing could get past his bloodthirst, nothing could fight against his long, sharp claws.

You were, however, terrified to learn that his promises extended to living beings as well. You’d been left alone one evening – nothing out of the ordinary, as you were already a teenager and reasonably independent. There was a knock on the door, and you made the mistake of opening without as much as glancing through the peephole; your parents must’ve forgotten something, you were certain. Before you stood a man, a complete stranger. He asked if you were by yourself. Your stomach dropped, and you tried to slam the door shut, but he blocked your gesture with his foot. He stepped inside with a smirk.

Go to your room, your imaginary friend abruptly spoke. He was strikingly calm, gazing at your pale, petrified expression. I’ll take care of it. You turned around, unsure. Was this man going to let you go, just like that? The trespasser reached a hand towards you, then stopped. You wondered if he could see your ghastly companion, but you didn’t want to take any chances. You ran to your chamber and pressed yourself against the door, listening intently with bated breath. There was silence, then a sudden shriek. Muffled cracks and thumps, cries for mercy.

Hours later, you observed from your window as police officers retrieved the mangled parts: whatever remained of the intruder. What the hell could have done this, one officer whined, visibly nauseous, some wild dog? Your imaginary friend lay on your bed, whistling cheerfully and shuffling through one of your magazines. I told you; nothing gets past me.

Indeed, to this very day, there’s very little left that would instill any sort of fear in you. For example, you would rather never find out what were to happen if you escaped this convenient arrangement. Then again, you’re bright enough to know it’s a puerile scenario, a nonsense that should never cross your mind. There's no one and nothing out there that could ever compare.