Outer Space Love *Yandere Planet x Reader*

Prologue: Meet Westar

This is the last chapter before the main story begins! I'm so happy to be writing such a cool story! Without further ado...
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Start Transmission...
Journey to a region where the criminals reign supreme and the guns are ablaze day and night. The dust storms always kick up from the hot southern winds. The east plants grow in the many popping oasis that decorate the desert. There's even an ice cavern underground in the Ancient Ruins nearby a creaky ghost town. The Western Deserts are a mixture of the Sands of Persia, the Wild West, and the mysterious ruins of Egypt. This is also the place where you can find the Pyramid Trade Route, a place where all items from each region get traded among the world. From books, weapons, food, spices, treasures, and even diseases, you can find anything here if you have the right price.
But the best place to visit is Sphinx Gulch, a town where the leader of the criminal gang lives. He has it all from expensive clothes to the most powerful weapons. He runs the trades and makes sure that he gets the best of everything. That's when he found the book about the Goddess herself, the same one that was bought by Frost. He took the pictures of the book and plastered them around his mansion for all his men to see. They all thought the same thing: The Goddess would be their girl for them to play around with.
His son however had other ideas...

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POW! POW! POW!
"That's some good shooting kid." A large man wearing nothing but sewn up ragged clothing said, smoking a cigarette in his mouth. His greasy black hair was tied in a ponytail as he fixed his hat to cover his face from the searing sun. The hot desert did little to his complexion as ache littered his face. The kid he was referring to was the small boy with blonde hair and blue eyes with the pistol in his small hands. He wore a typical cowboy getup consisting of a brown vest, hat, and pants. A red scarf was wrapped around his neck and a belt with a large star hung from his waist. A scar ran down his face, a jagged line bearing a resemblance to a lightning bolt. This was the son of the crime lord Jacob, who lead everything that happened.
"That was great! If they were real people and not dummies, they would be dead!" He kicked the test dummy, all the sand spilling out of the multiple wounds. "Head shots, chest shots, and leg shots galore! Oh my pa would be so proud!"
This boy was called Westar and he wanted to be just like his father. And like his father, he had a ruthless, sadistic personality. It was his own father that gave him the scar he wore proudly on his face. He looks down on his son, claiming that he can't be in his gang for obvious reasons. That's why he was in the outlands, finding the hermit Sal when he got lost one day. Sal saw his potential and vowed to make him a great fighter to impress his father. But Sal himself was an enigma to behold. He knew much about fighting from his traveling trades in each region and yet he refused to raise his gun at people. He wore rags and ate what the harsh desert provided him. Seeing Westar as his own son, he let him come and stay for hours when his father would be out shooting and looting.
"Killing isn't always the right solution Westar. Sometimes you can solve your problems without violence." Sal said, sipping on some brown water from his cave.
"You say that every-time ya train me Sal. My pa would likely disagree with ya." Westar spat on the ground to get rid of the sandy taste in his mouth. "You are welcome to join the gang. Living here in the outlands can do crazy things with your mind."
"I live out here and I've been sane." Sal joked, ruffling his hair. "You need some control with that weapon of yours. You could do so much more than what your father has planned for you, if he does have a plan."
Westar rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag. "I need to go before he comes back. Thanks again Sal, but I can handle myself." He hugged the old man, who smiled from the comfort. "Besides, whatever happens to me, I know that the Goddess will be smiling down from her ethereal throne and will help me."
"She must be working overtime then on you, silly boy." Sal laughed, jabbing his thumb to the city. "Now git before you make me go softer than I am!"
Westar was silent that night as the gang and his father ate around him. The smell of cooked meat and beans filled his nose while ale and beer flowed from the many faces of drunkard men. He was used to this as he sat in his corner, drawing colorful pictures of the desert and the ancient ruins. He had his pictures all over the wall and numerous sketchbooks by his stool in the corner. His dinner was left untouched as he did so.
"Hey, check out Jacob's kid! What a little wimp coloring those stupid pictures!" Slurred one of the drunkards.
"How did our boss spawn something like that I will never know..." Another said, taking another sip.
"Maybe he secretly wanted a pansy so he let his son wander around all the time! Heard he visits ole Sal in the desert."
Westar ignored them as he continued to draw. Sal was right, not all things had to be violent. This was his escape, his home away from all the craziness. His book contained her face in it, drawing her hair like waves in the sand with plush velvet lips. She was his angel, not a person to defile by filthy hands of smugglers and traders.
A hand landed in his hair, making Westar look up. His father smiled down at him, his blonde locks cascading over his face in bangs.
"Drawing your future wife huh? I'm not surprised, she is quite the looker." He took a seat next to his son, spinning the chair around. "You know, if you don't claim her as yours, she either will become a slave or be the object of affection to someone else."
"Wait pa, you want me to take her? I thought you wanted her for your own?" Westar was surprised. His father talked about taking the Goddess all for himself. But to hear him actually wanting him to have her was shocking.
"I just say that around the guys to motivate them. I've read the book from page to page. Only a son of the great leaders of each nation can be her intended. I'm way too old to even bed her at this point." He snickered, the smell of blood and alcohol reeking off him. "My point is, you better grow some before meeting her. If anything, you need to be the one she falls in love with, not some jungle brat, ice prick, or sun cretin. You prove to them that your a force to be reckoned with. A bit of blood on your hands will not stop you, kill them all if you have to. Just make sure when the night is done, your enemies will be mounted on the wall as you make sweet love to your wife!"
There was nothing more unnerving than the smile that adorned the face of the young boy who had been so peaceful.

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Westar now trained his entire life to kill, steal, and run his family business with a bloodied fist. He killed all who opposed him, stole from any who tricked him, and still managed to keep a smile on his ever so loving face. Around his neck, he wore the photo that he had done so long ago of his angel. When he came of age, he would kill the ones that would dare harm her.

This is the vow he had for her. This was his-
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Transmission interrupted...

Warning: The Goddess Approaches