Yandere Doll X Reader: PLAY TIME

Chapter 1: The Doll

"There... all done," I said, dusting off my hands as I admired my work.

A century-old life-sized porcelain doll sat before me with his everlasting smile. His beautiful emerald-green eyes seemed to pierce straight through my soul. His long crimson hair was still slightly damaged despite my best efforts, but compared to when he first arrived, he looked almost brand new.

I gently adjusted the brooch pinned to the ruffles on his collar.

Perfect.

I took out my phone and snapped picture after picture of the masterpiece. The only thing left unfinished was the antique pocket watch tucked into his pocket. It no longer worked, and despite asking around, I couldn't find anyone capable of repairing something that old.

I guess I'll have to return it like that.

I dialed my uncle's number. He was the one who had commissioned me to restore the doll.

The phone rang.

No answer.

I tried again.

And again.

Still nothing.

With a sigh, I slipped my phone back into my pocket. He was probably busy praying or attending to something at the seminary. The rules there were strict enough that missing a few calls wasn't unusual. He'd call me back once he saw the missed calls.

As I turned around, I felt those emerald eyes on me again.

I smiled.

They were the most beautiful shade of green I'd ever seen. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, making them shimmer as though they were alive.

I couldn't stop looking at them.

Almost without thinking, I reached for my sketchbook and drawing supplies. I unfolded my portable easel and sat in front of him.

Maybe he'd become the inspiration for one of my future projects.

I started with a simple gesture sketch. His pose wasn't difficult-he was only sitting quietly after all.

The body came together easily.

Then I reached his face.

Something was wrong.

No matter how many times I drew it, it never looked right. Every line felt... off. The gentle curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, the delicate proportions-none of it matched the figure sitting silently before me.

Frustrated, I scratched out the page.

Again.

And again.

I switched to a portrait study, hoping focusing solely on his face would help.

Nothing.

Each attempt looked lifeless compared to the doll before me.

"...Have my skills gotten worse?" I muttered.

Why was I struggling so much?

Maybe I should change mediums.

Even though I didn't have any commissions or projects waiting, somehow I felt he deserved more than a simple sketch.

As I walked to my work station behind me to grab a canvas, paints, and my easel, I happened to glance toward the window.

My footsteps stopped.

It was dark.

Completely dark.