#Yandere ex

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #8:

A yandere ex is dumped by his girlfriend, (Y/n), because she caught him cheating. The yandere is quick to chase her around begging for forgiveness while she's heartbroken. He basically stalks her to the point that (Y/n) had to put restraining orders on him and change her city and number. Years later, he finds her about to marry her yandere fiancé (who is secretly MUCH more yandere than him) to whom (Y/n) gave her heart. The yandere fiancé knows about the yandere ex's existence, and constantly watches him; he mocks and rubs it in his face that (Y/n) will never be his to the point of secretly inviting him to the wedding and watching him mockingly and scornfully from the audience from the altar, after kissing his beloved.

[bluublu-blub]

yan! ex husband

yan! ex husband who just won't move on. It's been months since the two of you divorced and he still can't get his mind wrapped around the fact that you guys are not together anymore. It seems like everytime he turns, he sees you. He hallucinates a lot and tries to hug you but all he catches is air. 

yan! ex husband who will snap back to reality after realizing that he is alone in the house you both brought together. 

yan! ex husband who is slowly going insane. His memory is deteriorating bit by bit caused by stress, lack of sleep, and nonexistent eating habits. He does know you won't come back to him but he hopes so badly that you did.

yan! ex husband who doesn't remember when the divorce happened and the reason for your split. But he does know the reason why you left him. He just can't remember at all.

yan! ex husband who only remembers you crying a day before you filed divorce papers to him.

yan! ex husband who just stared blankly at you when you gave him the divorce papers, signing it and ignoring you. 

yan! ex husband who lets you go because he couldn't be bothered.

yan! ex husband who fucked up.

yan! ex husband who decided that living without you isn't a life he can live and decided to make sure you get back to him again. 

yan! ex husband who will do anything for you both to get back together. 

[droaxa]

✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 2

✧ warnings: violence and force, yandere behavior, descriptions of dismemberment, blood, stalking, police, nsfw content, kissing, angst, smut, breaking in, attempted murder, cuts, dead dove, probably more stuff

✧ a/n: my most requested fic at the moment! i decided to take some of your suggestions and add my own twist at the end + yandere name reveal!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

yandere cheater wrestles you into his car after he drags you outta the cafe you’re in, unyielding as you try to pull away. the second he shuts the door and jets to the drivers side, you force yourself out the door and sprint down the street.

you hear his yells as you increase your speed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long. not only was he more athletic than you, but a look back revealed his terrifying expression. he was clearly set on catching you, having the advantage in his relatively relaxed clothing opposed to you, who was dressed for a date.

knowing you couldn’t beat him you came to a sudden stop of to the side of the sidewalk and he rammed into your side. stumbling back a few steps you stopped him. eyes wide and hair blown back, he looks at you mildly surprised.

“wha-” you interrupt him this time, taking advantage of his surprise by slapping a hand over his mouth.

you bring on an expression that you think is intimidating, “leave me the fuck alone, i don’t know what the hell you want but i’m not taking you back”

he scoffs like he has you all figured out, taking your hand off his mouth to reveal a smirk underneath. “guess mother dear will find out about your… escapades then”

smack!

you slap him across the face sharply, sound reverberating around you and leaving a tinge of red on his cheek. his mouth gapes as he looks back at you even more surprised, what happened to the mild mannered girl who he had cheated on dated?

“release those anywhere and i will fuck up your life asshole” you fume, hand still in the air as if to threaten him for another slap. “you’re the one that decided to cheat on me with every girl we knew. fucking own up to it”

you were sick of his shit, who did he think he was? you huff out a quiet fuck off as you pass him, shoulder bumping against his. as soon as you rounded the corner you sprint to a nearby parked cab, slamming the door on your way in.

“to the university dorms please”

yandere cheater runs after you too late, rounding the corner as you take off in the cab. poor baby, you were still hung up on him cheating? he didn’t even really like those girls anyway, they weren’t good for anything except their bodies.

but you, you were it for him. he’d do anything to see your cute smile again, to see you whimper on his cock. he felt his swollen cheek, your anger may come in the way of him proving his love, but you’d understand in the end. how deep his love ran. all he had to do was prove was that those girls meant nothing.

two weeks had passed, two long peaceful weeks. your ex finally seemed to give up, the barrage of text messages and calls diminishing to radio silence and constant gifts at your doorstep suddenly stopping. maybe you were more intimidating than you thought.

the second you got home after the encounter, you had called your mother and explained everything. although she did yell at you for a solid hour due her disappointment in you sending out explicit photos of yourself, she understood your situation. after giving her instructions on blocking your ex if he tried to reach out to her you were finally at a peace of mind. at a zen. maybe you could turn a new leaf, you deserved it.

of course you had fucking jinxed it, just when you finally thought it was all over, your ex had tried to force himself back in your life again. deep down, you knew he wouldn’t give up that easy. he’d always be stubborn to a fault.

two weeks after the encounter a small navy present box appeared in from of your new dorm room door. still groggy with sleep you rubbed your eyes and picked up the box, bringing it inside. after contemplating for a minute, you finally decide to open it. in your sleep ridden state, you reasoned that it was probably something you’d left behind at your ex’s house.

it takes a minute to register the contents of the box, but when you do

“OH MY GOD”

you scream and stumble back.

two bloodshot green- brown eyes were pressed into the shiny white silk inside, the area around them a tinge of red. that alone could be passed off as a cruel prank by some immature students but the unmistakable metallic scent of blood lingering in the air said otherwise. that and the only other item in the plush silk: a silver bracelet with the initials ‘e.r’.

only one person you knew owned that bracelet and had those eyes, your ‘friend’ eva. but you had blocked and lost contact with her after you found her and your boyfriend together in the bathroom of the mall. there’s no way she would have just lost this bracelet either, you remembered her bragging about how it was permanent. being soldering together around her hand.

you were nauseous. oh god. you knew it was him, you just knew. sure you hated her but you didn’t want her to die. what the hell, what the fuck do you even do?

before you could think you grabbed your phone calling the only person you could think of.

“can you come over quick, please?”

20 minutes later a dark haired man rushed in through your front door, spotting you curled up in the corner. your eyes wide and still staring at the open box.

“(y/n) what’s going on?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly. you just point to the box and he takes a peek, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes shoot open “fucking hell…”

you turn to him, eyes teary “ray what do we do?”

ray was your one real friend through everything your ex put you through, and ironically your ex’s older brother. he was one that introduced you to your ex and thus he blamed himself for letting him hurt you, even though you’d reassured him that you didn’t find him at any fault.

he was reliable and kind, a shoulder to lean on when things got tough. you’d known him for almost two years longer than your ex and honestly if you didn’t meet your ex, the small crash you harbored for ray may have grown. after you met you ex you assumed that your feelings for ray had naturally died out but you couldn’t lie about the strange biting feeling in your chest whenever you saw him.

and even now he was talking care of you, taking you to the police station to talk to the police and turning in the bloody present. a few hours later you both were back in your dorm, sitting on the edge of your bed as you discussed the situation.

“look i really appreciate all this, you didn’t have to come with me to the station”

he smiles, “anytime (y/n), if it’s for you”

you smile back, face a little warm from his answer “that’s sweet”

he moves a little closer, your pinkies now you touching. “you’re sweeter, my asshole brother doesn’t know what he missed out on.” and you swear that you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

“really?” you ask coyly, leaning in slightly.

he nods slightly hesitant “if i had a girlfriend like you i wouldn’t dare disrespect her like that, i-i mean you’re thoughtful and pretty and-” he gets cut off as you lean up and press your lips to his. he immediately freezes up and you take his response as rejection, pulling away. fuck, he was obviously just being nice who even likes their brothers ex?

“i’m so sorry i though-” before you can finish apologizing ray’s lips smash onto yours, one of his hands in your hair to pull you closer and the other guiding your lips to his by your chin. in between heated kisses he mumbles,

“god i was waiting for so long,” a kiss.

“prettiest girl i’ve ever met” another heated kiss. his words of longing slur as he continues to kiss you, pulling you ever closer. his plush lips trail down your neck and to your stomach, slender hand playing at your waistband. his hooded eyes look up at you as his other hand wanders under your shirt. “can i?”

you give him a shy nod and he smiles, pulling down your pajama shorts to reveal white cotton panties. you cover your face with your arm out of embarrassment and he reaches out, keeping your arm down.

“wann’ see your pretty face, waited for it” you nod meekly and he flashes his dimples, continuing to pull down your panties and throw them somewhere behind him. your cute cunt, glistening with arousal was right in front of his face. fuck. gliding a finger up the slit, he watches as the slick from your pussy coats it. fuck.

an hour later he was in heaven, or at least you felt like it. buried deep inside your wet cunt as you moaned and squirmed under him

“ngh- fuck, so good fa’ me baby”

this was the stuff of wet dreams. he speeds up as he feels his orgasm approaching, praises and grunts slipping from his lips as he slams his hips against yours. soft skin against muscle, hot breath on your face from where he was above you. finally he pulls out with groan, wanting to stay buried in your warm. spurts of warm cum shoot up your stomach as he finally finishes.

ray collapses beside you, both of you sweaty and nude as you bathe in the afterglow. weakly, you smile at his tired form as you close your eyes, drifting to sleep in your warm bed.

bang!

you wake up with a start, wearing a shirt too big to be yours. must be ray’s. you look around the dim room and reach for ray, feeling nothing in the space next to your body. did ray… leave? that couldn’t be right. your bare feet hit the wood floor as you step towards your lamp and turn on the light. nothing.

you look around the bedroom and then head to the kitchen, turning the corner and switching on the light. immediately the kitchen floods with light and you gasp. the floor was tracked with blood, a trail leading from where you stood to your bathroom. was he hurt?! you cautiously approach the bathroom, a sharp metallic scent dominates your nose as push open the half open door.

“took a while to wake up didn’t you sleepyhead?”

your blood runs cold. it was your ex boyfriend. if the crazed grin in his face wasn’t unsettling enough the blood smearing on his cheek and splattered across his body sent alarms going off inside you. looking behind him you see the source of all the red.

ray. deep cuts run down his body, clothes shredded, and body half submerged in the now murky red water of the tub. on the tile floor next to him was your kitchen knife, covered in blood. without missing a beat you turned and sprinted to your bed stand, searching for your phone. there’s no way you would make it to the door in time, you needed to call the police and at least save ray.

haphazardly searching your bed and nightstand, you still can’t find your phone. where is it?

“oh lookin’ for your phone?” you turn to him. in his hand was the aforementioned object, light pink case looking uncharacteristically cute opposed to his blood-ridden form. “you’re a pretty deep sleeper hon, i mean i was rummaging around right next to you for this and you didn’t even hear”

“what are you doing raph?” you ask terrified, slowly inching away from him.

in response he approaches you, “what do you think? my girl runs off on me and the next time i see her she’s fucking my brother. you tryna make me jealous baby?” he leans in, expression seemingly amused but you knew better. he was pissed.

“and you’re wearing his shirt too” his large hand plays with the round collar of the tee, fingers ghosting over your collarbones.

“take it off”

eyes wide, you look up at him, “no i won-”

“take it off or he dies” raph’s face is dead serious, no traces of amusement left, stare burning into your face. “you want him to live right? i’ll call the police as long as you take it off”

you hesitate then slowly peel off ray’s shirt, letting it fall to the floor. raph had seen your body before right? it was a small price to pay for saving rays life. the action left you in only your cotton panties as you tried to preserve your modesty with your hands.

raph lets out a low whistle and steps forward, pulling you closer by the curve of your waist. chucking as you shiver due to his cold touch

“already forgot i feel baby? might needa reteach ya”

you look away from him, refusing to see the smug expression playing on his face.

at that moment you felt a wave of self hatred crash over you, why couldn’t you do anything about this? were you so weak that you couldn’t protect yourself, much less ray? but who were you kidding, you weren’t faster or stronger than raph. there’s no way you could get out of this situation with both of you alive without giving into raph.

raph places a rough hand at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. unlike his brother his touch was demanding and rash, the only purpose of it being to prove that you were still his silly girl. no matter how hard you tried to run away.

he coos at your troubled expression “where’s all that fire from before huh?” he grins at your submissive state, the one that he caused. “i’ll be nice, put your own clothes on. quick.”

was he playing with you? you take a look at ray’s shirt on the floor and then approach your closet under a guise of calmness, but a look at your shaking hands would disprove your confidence. putting on a bra, followed by a bottom and a top, then outer wear. anything to put more layers between you and him.

a look up at him reveals that he was already looking at you, probably to stop you from pulling another trick on him. he leans down to whisper in your ear but instead decides to press his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell. he mutters, face still in your hair “god i missed you” the sincere tone in his voice scared you the most.

he pulls away, expression distant and somewhat melancholy. “you know if you acted like a good girl from the beginning i wouldn’t have to do this”

before you can question him, his open right hand presses against your face, hard. the other hand supports your head to stop you from pulling away, body trapped. the bitter smell of something pressed on the tissue between your face and his hand floods your senses.

for the second time that night all your senses dull, and everything goes dark.

a/n: i know i know you guys wanted reader to get away from him! i just though this was more interesting then the reader getting back at raph and getting away with it. i like to make my yanderes stubborn loll. hope you liked the twist might write a part 3 ^^

[suiana]

(yandere! ex x gn! reader) (GUESS WHOS DAY ITIS !!"!"!)

finally.

he thinks, letting out an excited squeal while swooning over you through the thin glass. gripping he window stills, he peers in through the clear material, taking in the sight of you laying down on your bed.

how cute. you were so blissfully unaware of his presence. on one hand it was good. you wouldn't be able to chase him away if you didn't know he was there. after all, you've been awfully on edge around him, calling him a stalker and yelling for him to leave your shared apartment. how rude! don't you know it's mean to ask him, your boyfriend btw, to leave?

no matter, he'll play into your games for a bit. it's just a small joke you're playing on him. there's no way you want him gone and out of your life.

but it really sucked! why? because he wouldn't be able to celebrate your special day with you! :(((

it was like... you were trying to hurt him with your actions! how could you do such a thing??? don't you know how much you mean to him? how he just wants to spend every waking moment by your side, making you happy and celebrating your every milestone together? for you to forbid him from getting near you while such an important day, such as your birth...

"sigh... at least i was the first to tell you happy birthday..."

he mumbles, looking at you through the window. he shakes his ass, hearts in his eyes as he appreciates and admires the adorable you. well, of course he had to be the first to say happy birthday to you! he was your boyfriend!

you didn't acknowledge it though. he would've told you in person but you refused to open any doors or windows for him. so he had to resort to online messaging. the message didn't send on his messaging app or his main social media account... but after several other messages from his (many) alternate accounts...

yeah, you hadn't responded either. but hey! at least the message sent, right? you probably just... got too engrossed in reading or something! you'll look at his message sooner or after-

...

were you looking at his message?

did you just... delete it??

"hey! what are you doing baby?!"

he suddenly crawls in through the window, breaking into the apartment with wide, crazed eyes. no, no, no! why were you being so mean?! he knows you're mad or something and that you want to play a joke of him not being yours anymore but-

this was way too far! how could you not respond and even delete his messages?!

"i said happy birthday? are you mad? you don't like it? what about the money i sent? did you like that at least? ah baby! please don't be mad anymore! it hurts me so much to see you ignore me!"

the man desperately clings to you, sobbing while mumbling the lyrics to happy birthday under his breath. he can't take this teasing anymore! gah! you've gotten under his skin too good!

...meanwhile you could only shriek in terror, face completely horrified as you stare at your ex boyfriend who had... climbed up several stories to enter your apartment?? what the fuck?? just to wish you happy birthday??? wait no, he was yelling about how you deleted his messages so...

he was there for how long already?! god damn him!

you just wanted a normal birthday for once! this happened last year too, damnit!

letting out a sudden screech, you smack him hard across the cheek before kicking him off you. you then proceed to drag him by the collar, tossing this useless stalker sack of potatoes out your window.

"get out!"

"a-aye aye sir!"

[fangdokja]

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 7,753

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend & Cheating Bitch

Novella 1 : Friction & Fire

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Some truths are better left buried.

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[bay-sil]

Yandere Ex Husband

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙴𝚡 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚟 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

"𝙸'𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞" 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎.

"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝?" 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 "𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎?" 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢? 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝!

"𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔, 𝙸 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚋" 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍

"𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚜-" 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎

"𝙼𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚠 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎" 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚒��𝚐𝚎𝚛.

"𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐!" 𝚈/𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛. 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢. 𝙻𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚋 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚞𝚝.

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙷𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛.

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛. 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚈/𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙿𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛.

"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜"

𝚂𝚗𝚒𝚙

"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝"

𝚂𝚗𝚒𝚙

"𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞"

𝚂𝚗𝚒𝚙

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝, 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎.

𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚝-𝚞𝚙𝚜.

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝, 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚎. 𝙳𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 �� 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚠 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖.

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚈/𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

"𝚈/𝚗!" 𝙷𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 "𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎! 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗! 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎" 𝚈/𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜

"𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜.." 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙾𝚑! 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎! 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛

"𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎"

[misstycloud]

Yandere ex husband

TW: mention of childbirth, using children to manipulate.

Yandere ex husband who you met during the adolescent high school years. The two of you met through mutual friends and immediately hit it off. People even began joking you were destined for each other, which made both of you blush. It was inevitable he asked you out. One date became two and eventually turned into three.

Yandere ex husband who wondered if you’d be his girlfriend while nervously differing with his fingers and looking awkwardly to the side. You were overjoyed at the question and answered happily, yes. You and your boyfriend was thick as thieves, barely seen without the other after you became official.

Yandere ex husband that proposed romantically to you on your sixth anniversary on the private picnic you had planned. It wasn’t anything special but you loved it anyway. It was comfortable and intimate, which was everything you wished for. Your new fiancée cried tears along side you as you accepted his proposal and hugged you tightly, swearing to never leave you.

Yandere ex husband and you had your wedding, inviting your family and friends to the festivity. It wasn’t grand like those thousand dollar weddings you saw in movies or posted by the rich on the internet. That was something your husband regretted; not giving you the dream wedding. You however, we’re content with what you got. The only important thing was that your family could be there and the one you married was your high school sweetheart. You assured that to your husband, but you had a feeling it still lingered in his mind despite the smiles he gave you.

Yandere ex husband who got you pregnant not long after your marriage. The two of you panicked on the inside since none of you though it’d happen, you considered yourselves always pretty careful with those things. You hadn’t really had much talk about kids either, only coming to a silent agreement to talk more about it after you were married and when you felt mature enough to acknowledge the idea. But you’ll manage, you decided.

Yandere ex husband was very attentive to your needs during the pregnancy and would do anything you asked of him. The dishes needs doing? He’ll wash them! Your feet are sore? Your dear husband will gladly massage them for you! Too tired to cook? Don’t worry, he’ll make dinner or order take-out if you want! Nothing’s too big or too small for him as long as you get to rest.

Yandere ex husband who initially was very concerned about how to proceed when your pregnancy was confirmed. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Will you be good parents? Will the money be enough for the three of you? Gosh, there’s so much to think about. It’s an endless ocean of things to prepare. Though, as time passed and you became bigger, his worries began to lessen. You were so cute with that bump on your stomach! It’ll all be just fine.

Yandere ex husband and you were so in love when your son was born. He looked very much like his father, sharing the same nose and hair. As you had to regain some energy after the birth, your husband looked after the baby. And all he could do those hours was watch him sleep soundly in his arms, the purest little being in the world. Finally, his broken world was complete with you and his son close to him.

Yandere ex husband who didn’t know exactly when it started happening, the fights and the bickering. It was somewhere after your son had been born. The same tall strain parenthood had taken made you both constantly exhausted. No longer had you time for yourself. It was only small things at first, and then it turned worse; something as little as spilling something coudl set the other off. Your household had transformed from a loving comfort to a stiff bomb ready to go off any minute.

Yandere ex husband and you ultimately made the decision to part ways. You were sure of your decision although he was still unsure, he still loves you after all and wanted to be around your son as much as possible. But then he realises some distance might be good for you and agreed to leave temporarily for a while, until you can go back to normal again. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. You mind was settled and would waver no matter how he attempted to change your mind. You don’t need a divorce, what nonsense! You only needed a little space, that’s all.

Yandere ex husband who finally relented to your wishes and signed the divorce papers, almost tearing the sheet apart due to the force extracted through the pen. It was a big mistake. Without you, there was no ligh in his world. You made him whole. Yes, he got to see his son, but it wasn’t the same as before. This wasn’t the happy family he dreamed of being. Everyday felt more and more meaningless. He managed to get an apartment close to work and dragged himself there when the day ended. You got the house the two of you’d bought together years earlier.

Yandere ex husband who had to win you back. Otherwise he might waste away! You were so frustrated with how many times he called you and demanded a second chance. No, this is what was best for you, you said to yourself. You and your ex husband weren’t on bad terms and kept it civil for your sons sake, but you couldn’t be together anymore. Even though a part of you still felt a little for your former husband, you were afraid you’d just fall back into old routines. You loved your son with all your heart, but you couldn’t deny the fact that perhaps you and your husband hadn’t been as ready for kids as you thought.

Yandere ex husband who won’t stop pestering you for a date and to get back together; going as far as to use your son as leverage. Think of your boy, he’s so young and deserves a father close to him. This of course made you furious. How could he use him to force you to go with his wants? Now you were even more sure of your decision and stood your ground. Flowers showed up at the doorstep every now and then, chocolates too among other gifts. You wanted to enjoy them, however, that would simply give your ex the wrong idea and so you couldn’t. They were good items so that was sad.

Yandere ex husband who will stop at nothing to get you and his son back. Was he really a bad man for wanting that? His family whole again? No, certainly not. He wasn’t a bad person minus all the things he did for you in high school. He knows you’d do anything for your little boy, so how could you refuse when he asks why his dad isn’t living with you and how he wish he did. You’ll crack eventually, that he knows.

All that’s left to do is wait.

————

Sorry for not updating much I’ve been busy and haven’t had the energy to write something! But I just wanted to get this out

;)

[aluraveil]

yandere ex pm dazai x reader

im imagining a scenario where it turns out that pm dazai doesnt really love you and that you were just a toy for him to play around with..

you're angry and rightfully upset and you're in tears and sobbing. you thought dazai loved you and it turns out that he didnt? what a sick joke.

buuuut then dazai sort of realizes that he's alone without you. there's a sick feeling of regret crawling up his spine.

and once he starts to regret, it hits him hard. he went from not caring and then did a whole 180 and started to miss you a lot.

once hes in the phase where regret eats up at him, he's quite literally scary as fuck. all of a sudden he becomes more agitated, more selfish, and has less patience.

all of his subordinates and people working under him can tell that dazai is a time ticking bomb about to explode. when he regrets, dazai becomes more aggressive and downright scary. if his men fail a mission they are all getting severely punished. dazai just doesn't have the patience anymore.

it doesn't get any better when he becomes the port mafia's boss. if anything, he becomes even worse. if you thought mafia executive 'Demon Prodigy' dazai was scary, you haven't seen anything.

as the boss of the port mafia, dazai is naturally in charge of everything that happens as he quite literally is the highest ranking member of the mafia because he's the leader. during the time period he takes over as the boss, nobody even wants to mess with him.dazai has much more influence over everything during this time and you can bet that he has been watching over you for quite some time.

it doesn't take long for dazai to snatch you back up. he quite literally was 'suffering' and in so much 'pain' without you even when it was clearly his fault. you cant blame yourself for leaving him. who wants to be with someone who doesnt love you? nobody right?

during this time, he tries to run into you by coincidence. at this point he sometimes runs into you if you worked at a restaurant or something. he tries to play it cool but you both know what his true intentions are and it doesn't need to be said out loud.

you however, are downright terrified. this is literally the same guy who committed 625 counts of fraud. 625. not to mention he is the literal boss of the port mafia. the boss. the frickin boss.

you're scared because you dont believe he will show any mercy towards you. this is because the two of you arent 'lovers' (you don't know if the both of you ever were because dazai didnt hold any feelings for you) and he probably sees you as nothing more than a stupid idiot. this is not the same dazai you loved. this is the dazai that doesnt love you meaning that he doesnt care about you which in turn means that if something happened to you, he just straight up doesnt care.

he starts calling you 'belladonna' and 'darling' again which feels awkward and disgusting. whenever he calls you that you straight up wince and cringe and you don't even try to hide it. there's a whole wave of awkwardness that lingers in the air when you just reply back with a "..hi?.." dazai senses that the tension in the air is so thick that you could slice through it but him being him he just straight up dgaf.

you're not thrilled to see him whatsoever. when he comes here he doesn't even order any food and just tries to talk to you. he always leaves you a huge tip when he does leave though. you never take it though. you dont want his money. the next time he does come you give the money back to him and but he refuses to take it back saying "you've been working so hard belladonna, you deserve to treat yourself." again with the belladonna thing. it doesnt feel right for him to call you that at all.

dazai knows that youre refusing his advances but it doesnt stop him from trying. afterall you loved him once. thats all that matters. its only the results that matter in the end right?

right?

...

maybe.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Betrayal

Yandere!Ex x f!Reader

warnings: gore, includes slight religious themes

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

It hurt. Terribly so. From the tip of his nose to the end of his toes, it burned. His entire being was set aflame through one miniscule act.

He had witnessed the unthinkable; you in the arms of another. The pet he had so carefully tamed, chained to him, made you dependent, cut off everyone and everything to keep you in his grasp. You had fled.

Not only did you escape the golden cage he had build for you, break off his hold on your psyche, but you also found new love.

Love.

Just the thought of it made his stomach churn in repulsion. It was vile of you to claim to have found something so sacred in someone else besides him. It offended him.

How could you? How dare you? After everything he had done for you, you ran away, humiliated him, undermined his efforts—all for what?

For this pathetic excuse of a man that couldn't even contain his tears as he plucked out his nails from their nailbeds as if they were weeds hidden between grass?

He admittedly couldn't contain a giggle as that scum twisted and squirmed, trying to worm himself out of the chair he had strapped him to, begging and pleading with fat tears in his wet eyes.

The way he so easily carved in, accepting defeat instantaneously, not even arguing about seeing you anymore, valuing his life over you. Pathetic.

He would die for you thousands of deaths only to claim you his, yet this man, this creature, that couldn't even care that much about you to die for your name and honour, was your lover?

Really dear?

He laughed as his corpse dropped to the ground with a thud, the scream still ringing in his ears, the fresh scent of blood wafting through the air, caressing his nerves and easing them.

“Don't worry my little dear.” he crouched down besides the head of your former lover, fingers hovering above his eye sockets. “I will be your salvation once again. I will show you the light—the righteous way. We're Adam and Eve after all, dear, the only man and woman, no one else—no one else matters.” he rambled as he brutally forced his fingers into the squishiness, poking out the very eyes that had dared to look at you.

Because no one, no one else besides him, was allowed to bask in the serenity that was you.

[yanderedollie]

he’s the only one i could call

“fuck.” i groaned, leaning my head back against the headrest.

i lightly slammed my hands down on the steering wheel and lowered my music.

my car had broken down a few cities over from my own.

i picked up my phone to check the time.

3am… of course it is. nobody i know is gonna be up right now to save me.

“this is what i get for neglecting the check battery light” i think to myself. my car stalled a few more pathetic attempts to start as i realized i didn’t have the money for a tow service right now either.

i glanced around and picked up my phone to check maps. maybe there’s a 24 hour diner, or somewhere i can stay till it’s a reasonable hour.

nothing. i wanna throw my phone after i check how far i actually am from my apartment.

as i try one last attempt to move around the map and find a savior my heart drops to my stomach, and leaps back into my throat once i realize just exactly where i am.

two neighborhoods over is his house.

i giggle to myself as an idea flashes in my mind.

before i continue i’ll give context.

the whole reason i’m even cities over from my own was because i took a drive to clear my head. to try and forget him.

i had been trying everything i could but he was always gnawing at my brain. always. and i had been trying to control my obsessive tendencies after our fall out.

i had been doing good but, stuck in a neighborhood so close to his house made my body ache.

my fingertips tingled in anticipation as they hovered over my phone screen.

i wondered if he was even awake. he never really had a great sleep schedule. i checked the time again… 3:05.. i hope he’s not with her.

i nibbled at the inside of my cheek before i threw all reason out the window…

it rang a few times before a familiar, sleepy voice, answered

“[name]?”

my breath caught in my throat before i answered

“hey… hey i’m sorry i know it’s late- were you sleeping?”

“yeah but it’s fine.. are you okay? why are you calling?”

i smiled to myself. he still cares.

“i’m fine! i’m okay! swear. it’s just my car broke down really close to you. everyone i know is asleep…”

i trailed off. i probably sounded so desperate. it dripped off of me.

“[name].. i’m with my girlfriend.. cant- cant you call a tow service?”

i bit the inside of my cheek again. hard. i don’t care about his girlfriend. i’ll kill her.

i shook my head and nervously played with a loose thread at the end of my dress

“i.. uh.. dont have that kind of money right now.”

i sound genuinely pathetic

“i see… uh.. okay um i can come help you. just send me your location… and [name]?”

“hm?”

i practically whined at the idea of him coming to rescue me

“i’m just going to jump start your car and leave okay? please don’t make this a.. a thing”

that stung. i swallowed hard and nodded like he could see me

“yeah. it- it wont be.”

my phone beeped indicating he ended the call. i squirmed in my seat as i sent him a pin of my location.

make it a thing? what the fuck?

i wanted to rip out his throat.

shifting uncomfortably i waited outside in the cold. i leaned up against the drivers side window, shivering and pathetic.

when his cars headlights pulled onto the street i was on i felt my heartbeat quicken and my body tingle.

i was starving.

“hey..”

he said, walking up to my car with cables in his hand

“hi…i’m sorry again about this.”

i smiled softly at him. he always liked when i smiled at him that way… i hoped he felt something. anything.

he smiled back and i swear i could see his eyes linger over my body for a little too long

i felt like pouncing on him like a predator catching its prey.

“no worries. i told my girlfriend i’d be quick so, lets do this”

i felt rage flicker in my gut. stop fucking talking about her.

“right..”

i clearly sounded upset but i didn’t care.

my bones ached as i watched him attempt to jump start my car. he looked as gorgeous as ever.

it started pretty much instantly and i panicked. he couldn’t leave yet. no, no, no, not yet.

“w-wait!”

i practically yelled at him

he stopped abruptly, clearly taken aback by my sudden outburst

“what?!”

he was visibly concerned. never mad. he never really could get mad at me.

i felt tears well up in my eyes

“don’t leave…please.. i’m-i’m sorry. it’s been so long since i've seen you. i had to see you. i can’t stop thinking about you. please please don’t go…”

i felt so many emotions bubble inside of me, i felt like i was going to burst

he stared at me for a long time… then.. he smiled.

“cute.”

i swallowed and looked down at my feet

“stop. i’m sorry. that was really stupid.”

i didn’t look up but i heard him take a step towards me

“[name]….”

i looked up. he was right in front of me, closer to me than he had been in months.

i clenched my jaw. i could smell his cologne and my knees nearly buckled.

“stop it!”

i stepped back. i wanted him so bad but i knew it was wrong. i wanted to kill his girlfriend and rip out his throat, but i was trying so hard to be better. i was really trying

he let out a soft laugh and reached for my hand

“i guess i’m the one making it a thing…”

he held my hand in his so gently i felt myself melt.

“no. we can’t…”

i sounded small, pathetic, desperate. i clearly didn’t mean a word.

“hmm”

he hummed gently, moving his hand up to brush some loose hair behind my shoulder and trace my neck

“why not?”

i didn’t answer, i just held his gaze. it was so intense i nearly looked away.

i knew i could eventually get him where i wanted him…but.. i didn’t think it'd be this easy.

i shivered at his touch and something flickered in his eyes

“you look as beautiful as ever. i like this dress on you..”

he sounded starving now.

“it’s new”

i squeaked.

“mm very pretty, doll”

i let a whimper escape my lips at the nickname and he grinned

“come here.. let me warm you. it’s so cold out here…”

i stepped closer to him without a second thought. anything he wanted i would do it. anything at all.

he wrapped his arms around me and i couldn’t contain myself anymore.

i tangled my fingers into his hair and pressed my body against his, whimpering in the process.

i needed him bad. primal. animalistic

his hands roamed my body, grabbing and groping every part of me.

my breathing quickened as i melted into his touch.

“please..please”

was all i could manage to moan out.

he was barely touching me but i felt my pussy throb and dampen at every grab and tug from his hands

“you’re so pathetic. it’s adorable”

he cooed into my ear before nibbling it a little

we were still outside leaning against my car, his hand travelling up my dress and teasing the waist band of my panties

“[name]… please..”

i couldn’t control myself around him. he was so warm. so sweet. so perfect.

all of a sudden he pulled away tugging my body towards his car. fast.

i barely had time to register what was going on before i was in the backseat and he was looming over me.

i could see glimpses of him in the moonlight. he looked so disgustingly perverted and hungry for me. i fucking loved it.

“you’re such a fucking tease in this little dress. begging me to come save you, to rescue your pathetic ass…”

he said in breathy whispers as he groped my tits and pinched my nipples through the fabric of my dress

i moaned loudly and squirmed underneath him, feeling his hard cock pressed against my thigh

“i can’t believe you [name]. i can’t believe what you do to me”

he quickly slipped the dress off of me and his mouth was on my naked body in an instant. digging his nails into my waist and leaving sloppy, uncoordinated kisses, over my chest and stomach

“mmm… fuck… [name]… please just use me however you want”

i whimpered pathetically each time he moved his mouth or hands

“oh i will.”

i could barely stay conscious between his hands wrapped around my throat and him rubbing his thick cock against the fabric of my panties

it all felt so good i nearly came just from that alone

he ripped my panties off and shoved his cock into my dripping pussy with one swift motion, i saw stars

i coughed and sputtered from the pressure on my neck as he rammed into my cunt

“oh my god.. fuck.. [name] you feel incredible”

he released his grip on my neck to move a hand down to my aching pussy

he gently rubbed my clit as he pumped in and out of me and i could’ve sworn i saw god.

i whined like a pathetic dog as he violated me in ways i had never experienced from him before.

i knew our past sex was good but holy shit

“[name].. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry”

he apologized profusely as he struck me across the face and rammed into me harder

“you’re just so pathetic, i can’t help myself…”

all i could get out was pathetic whines as i looked up at him with desperation.

i wanted more. i wanted everything he could give me. whatever he wanted to do i would take it and i would love it.

“fuck. fuck. fuck. [name] you’re so tight”

he groaned loudly as he rubbed my clit faster

i clenched around his cock as i felt him release a huge load of hot cum inside my womb

i came at the same time, my pussy spasming on his cock as we both let out animalistic groans and pants, clinging to each other like this would be the last time

it was never the last time.

“oh my god..”

was all he could manage into my ear as he collapsed on top of me

i could feel our heartbeats colliding into one, pounding against both of our chests

i laid there staring up at interior of his car, catching my breath

i had asked him to come rescue me in hopes that maybe he’d feel something for me when he saw me

i asked him to save me because i needed to see him

come to find out…. he felt the exact same way

i smiled to myself as he played with my hair, still laying on top of me and softly breathing into my neck

we hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet but, i knew.

i knew he felt the same way i did

all this time i thought he had moved on

but we were just as desperate and perverted for each other as we had been back then

i really need to kill his stupid girlfriend. then he’ll be mine forever.

so much for “getting better”

i never will as long as he’s breathing. i never wanted to in the first place.

“i love you [name]”

he sighed softly, placing a gentle kiss on my neck

“i love you too”

i will never let my darling go… ever. again.

[f4wning]

imagine being the ex from this post.

(yan reader! based on boynextdoor's gonna be a rock)

a breakup was a gift you didn’t wish for your birthday.

if you could go back in time, you’d leave first. you’d dump him before anything could happen.

before he could dump you. 

you didn’t want to be happy now, no. the only thing you wanted to be?

a rock.

you wanted to be a rock and break his window, shatter it, just like how he had shattered your heart. you wanted to be a rock and shatter his love, his new fuckass partner.

god, you hated them.

he was supposed to be yours, and yours alone. when did he go and fall for that stupid fucking person? there was no appeal to them! none! if he really wanted to be with them, though, you would’ve changed.

you would’ve changed everything about yourself to become a clone of them, just so he could love you again. just so he wouldn’t dump you.

just so he could be yours forever.

you hoped he’d go and die (no you didn’t you loved him far too much for that).

one day everything had been fine. he had been talking with you aimlessly as lovers did, an endearing and adoring and loving look in his eyes. you couldn’t describe it as anything else, it was just that, plain and simple:

love.

a word you now hated, as ridiculous as it sounded. 

but how could you hate it? it was all you ever felt aside from the hurt.

love.

his love for you had changed practically overnight. he had started growing disinterested when you talked, a glazed, bored look in his eyes. he began to text you only when needed. your conversations became few and small, scattered here and there. he recoiled whenever you touched him. he didn’t even fucking look at you anymore.

because of them: his new fucking partner.

god, you hated them.

all the moments you had spent with him, all the memories shared, all the feelings, all the pictures, everything all fucking gone and because of what?

at this point you’d rather be a stone instead.

at least stones didn’t feel heartbreak like this.

—

your mental health had crumbled.

you couldn’t help but burst into tears whenever you saw anything related to him. even in front of your parents, you burst into tears. they rolled down your cheeks, big fat globs, a reminder of what you had become.

you couldn’t help but remember everything. early mornings you woke up, just to see him before he left for work. sleepless nights you spent, waiting for him to get back. the way your heart would leap whenever you heard the familiar sound of his car parking in the driveway.

you spent days, even months replaying every moment, searching for clues, wondering if you missed something vital. had you been too much? too needy? too clingy? not clingy enough? 

you wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, to tell the universe that you would have done anything. you would’ve changed yourself, molded into whoever he wanted as long as he was with you.

but none of that mattered now, did it? he was gone, and you were left with only the hollow shell of what used to be.

you had thought about confronting him a multitude of times. showing up at his door to demand answers. you had imagined the scene in vivid detail: how you'd make him look at you, look at you, and see the devastation he had caused. you had imagined how the regret would pool in his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it back. not after everything. you imagined how remorseful he’d be. falling to his knees, begging for you to take him back.

and then there were the gruesome fantasies.

the ones where his new bitch would scream and beg for mercy. where you’d behead them with an axe, blood spraying and splattering and soaking and splashing. the crimson red contrasting with the lighter shade of the axe and with the color of your skin, bold and shiny and wet against it. the fantasies where the smell of iron would engulf you, submerging you completely. the fantasies where you’d see the light fade from their eyes, the horrified screams and pleads of him scraping against your ears as you looked at him blankly, telling him this was bound to happen, that he should’ve expected it after breaking up with you for them. 

but you knew those were just fantasies.

you'd been stalking him in ways you couldn't admit to anyone, even yourself. checking his social media, watching him laugh with them, his new love. The one who took everything from you. it wasn’t fair. no matter what they posted, the comments, the likes, the pictures—it all felt like a taunt. they were flaunting yourhappiness, the life you should still be living.

if you couldn’t have him, then neither should they. why should they get to be happy when you were drowning in misery? your hands shook as you stared at their photos together, your mind racing, spiraling.

maybe you didn’t need to be a rock to shatter everything.

maybe, just maybe, if his love was shattered, he’d come crawling back. he’d realize you were the only one who truly understood him, the only one who ever would. And when he did, you’d welcome him back with open arms—his sweet, remorseful words filling the void in your heart, as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

you wanted to be a rock. not just to throw, but to crack and break and shatter his love.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #20(+18)

Yandere ex vs Yandere husband x female reader:

Your yandere fiancé becomes your yandere husband, and both you and he are very happy together. This makes your yandere ex FURIOUS, which your yandere husband notices and not only gives him a stern warning, but mocks him behind your back; to the point that when you and your yandere husband have sex, he moans very loudly on purpose. He also makes sure that your yandere ex knows how much you enjoy it.

[bluublu-blub]

yan! ex husband (cont.)

Things got a little messy with my life within 5 days after I uploaded. I was almost disowned but things are better now. I was planning on uploading soon but I only got time now.

next

You barely remember when it started —when was the last time he sat down and spent time with you instead brushing you off in your rare times of rest. You do understand how time consuming his daily activities are. He was, after all, a professor by day and a medical student at night. So, you would smile at him and assure him that you always understand and you are fine with less date nights and hangouts. But, you were only asking a bare minimum from him —you just want some time where you both just sit in each other’s presence and let the silence be because it brought you comfort.

You just want to know that he is still there.

That, in some way or form, you still matter.

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it is a right choice to get married as soon as you both finished your undergraduate degrees.)

(You brush the traitorous thoughts away from your mind.)

Just a little more. You can still wait.

–

Was it by a stroke of unfortunate circumstances, you wonder as you watched him grinned widely as he finished med school and immediately was recruited to some hospital while his words came from one ear to another. He seems so happy and less stressed as you try to keep up with him. 

“What do you think, love?”

What do you think? 

“What?”

“I asked if we can move closer to my workplace?” He repeated and you felt that once again your world froze. “It will be a different environment from here. The distance is a little over five hours in this place. Wouldn't it be more convenient?”

“Oh, yeah.” Convenient for him, sure. But, what about your career? “But, it will be far from mine.”

He brushed you off. “Well, you can always quit right?” Then he moved on to the next topic as if you agreed.

Oh.

Do you really matter to him at all?

–

You often heard from your friends that sometimes being together wouldn’t be enough if the relationship becomes stagnant and prison for your well-being. You had denied everything that is slowly ruining your relationship for years now, you let go of your convictions, passions, and dreams just for him. Let him shine and soar high while you are left scrambling in the ground. 

It was not like this before. 

Before, he listened. He was there before, there used to be a lot more love and smiles. 

Home was him before.

Home is not him now.

—

You stared at the documents in your hand, you had talked to your attorney about the procedures and now you need his signature.

“Love?” He’s back early for a change.

It’s time to end this godforsaken marriage and choose yourself for once.

“I need you to sign this.”

There is no going back to the past.

[droaxa]

tags: stalking, starvation? (yandere not reader), breaking in, reader is thrown around, creepy dude being creepy

a/n: ahh the though of a lousy ex that fumbled a baddie (you) and can’t get over it

yandere ex that swears that he doesn’t care about you after your breakup but still gets jealous when he sees you out on a date with some random loser. you only deserve the best, so what are you doing with a dirtbag like that?

yandere ex who regrets breaking up with you. he didn’t realize what he was missing till it was gone, but swears he’ll do better next time!

yandere ex that stalks your socials relentlessly. i mean, he’s gotta make sure you’re happy without him right? he doesn’t admit that he cries a little everytime you post someone else.

yandere ex who neglects himself while obsessing over you, he hasn’t eaten two days? oh honey it’s because he’s been too busy following you around on your vacation!

yandere ex who finds your new address and breaks in drops by once in a while. the day after his visits you’re confused by your lack in chapstick and hair ties, you swear you just had a ton!

yandere ex who lathers that same chapstick over his lips, trying to get a rough semblance of the kisses you used to give him the only thing that’s the same is the flavor

yandere ex that can’t take it anymore, he wants the real thing just like he had before. he shows up at your front door almost a year after your break up, cleaned up and with your fav flowers.

“hey darling, its been a while huh?”

he says with a sheepish grin. face cleanly shaved and hair just how he knew you liked it. unlike his usual clothes the sweatshirt that smelled like you when you gave it back to him during your breakup he was dressed in a tight white button up and slacks, just to show off his biceps. only for you sweetheart.

“ryan? what-”

you get cut off as he pushes his way inside, stumbling a little.

“get out right now! you have no right coming in like this! ”

you fume and grab him by his shirt but he quickly turns around, flowers long forgotten on the counter as he cages you against the wall. something dark and far more sinister in his eyes than simple love.

and you’re silenced, you’ve never seen him like this. his previously light presence was now damper and more oppressive, you felt like you couldn’t move. hot breath on your face as you try to push against his chest, was he this strong before?

like this wasn’t a terrifying situation for you, he laughs.

“fuck it’s gonna be hard to hold back when you’re shaking like that for me doll”

[suiana]

(yandere! ex x gn! reader) (thought of this in the shower and thought it would be funny)

it had been five long dreadful days since you last talked to him.

five.

full.

days.

your ex boyfriend thought that it was finally time to break the silence and embrace your presence again. unfortunately, you had blocked him on all platforms and even got a restraining order on him. like, you've blocked him before but not a restraining order!

you even got all dramatic and said you wanted to break up!

...again.

he honestly thought it was a little cute. like aw... you wanted a break again! okay, because he loves you so much he'll give you another one! like you obviously meant break up as in separate for a bit then go back! like as always!

so... why haven't you contacted him at all?

he's itching and clawing at his walls just waiting for you to text him. but no, nothing. zero. absolute silence.

all the blocking and restraining orders weren't just to get his attention?

...

but he doesn't care haha! why should he care? you're just being a little dramatic again. this is how it's always been. he knows you just feel neglected, so of course you're just doing this for attention!

oh! he knows what to do!

that's right! he should show up with gifts and coddle you in kisses! like always!

that's why, he's patiently waiting for you to return back home... with tons of jewellery and cash laid on the ground. how did he get in, you ask? well obviously he has a spare key to your home! yeah yeah, he knows you haven't actually given him a new key and that you changed your lock two days ago but it was so painfully easy to just copy your key!

he couldn't just not make a copy, could he? you know he has to have access to you at all times! he gets antsy when he doesn't!

ah, your door is opening!

he grins happily, giggling excitedly as he sits by your couch, looking at the door in excitement.

"darling! i missed you!"

he moans, cheeks flushed as he stares at your stunned figure. however, his happiness gets replaced by worry as you slip on the money he laid down your hallway. oops... maybe he shouldn't have flooded your house in cash?

"darling! oh no... sre you alright?"

he pouts, immediately rushing to your side as he brushes the money away from your body. ah look at you! your face is all terrified... you must've been so so scared without him, weren't you?

"i promise I won't leave you again... just look at you!"

he mumbles, shaking his head disapprovingly as he picks you up and expertly maneuvers his way through your cash flooded apartment.

"what would you do without me?"

he sighs, cradling you to his chest as he sits on your couch and begins wiping away his faux tears with a wad of cash. that's right! what would you do without him? you were just so fragile and helpless! you'd suffer without his protection! he swears never to leave you alone again!

meanwhile, you were just silently smashing your head against the wall. god, your escape attempt failed again! maybe you should just escape to a foreign country next time. hm, maybe you should change your name to josh and alter your appearance too.

[fangdokja]

Hello!

May I ask you about yandere!ex - boyfriend?

Did the yandere tendencies begin with the relationship or did they materialize after the breakup? And will there be a fic about him in the future?

Thankyou for answering in advance! 🫶

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

❤︎ Synopsis. A calculated partnership born out of convenience spirals into something far darker, as control slips and obsession takes root. What started as a deal now feels like a dangerous game—and neither of them is willing to lose.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 8,730

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, objectification, suggestive themes, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching

The first time you met him, it was as if the universe had aligned—not in some whimsical, romanticized way, but with the brutal precision of mathematics. A logical equation where X equaled Y. You needed a shield, someone to deflect the probing questions of your overbearing parents and the inevitable parade of suitors they had lined up. He needed a partner who wouldn’t demand too much—someone who understood ambition, who wouldn’t suffocate him with expectations of sweet nothings and fairytales.

It wasn’t love. It was convenience.

You found him sitting in the back of the lecture hall, legs spread wide and a pen dangling between his fingers like a cigarette. There was something insufferable about the way he grinned at you when your eyes met, as if he already knew why you’d approached him. You ignored the flicker of irritation his cocky demeanor ignited within you.

“I have a proposition,” you said, arms crossed and chin high, voice cutting through the low murmur of the room like a blade.

His gaze trailed over you, assessing but not predatory, as if you were a puzzle he was already halfway through solving. He tilted his head, the grin widening. “Do tell, golden girl.”

That nickname—it would become a staple, laced with amusement and, eventually, something sharper, more cutting. But for now, it was just a playful jab.

“I need a boyfriend.”

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the smirk never wavering. “And what makes you think I’m boyfriend material?”

“I don’t,” you replied coolly. “But you’re convenient. Senior year, right? Close to graduating, no time for real commitment. And you seem…” You hesitated, letting your gaze sweep over him pointedly. “…unserious.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that drew a few curious glances your way. “Unserious. I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s in it for me?”

“Your parents are investors,” you said, your voice crisp, businesslike. “I’ve seen the sponsorships they’ve secured for student startups. You want their connections, don’t you? Stick with me for the rest of the semester, play the part, and I’ll make sure you have their ear.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to gauge whether you were serious. Then, to your surprise, he leaned back, his grin softening into something that felt almost genuine.

“You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as efficient.”

He held out his hand. “Deal.”

From that moment on, the two of you fell into a rhythm. It wasn’t romantic—not in the way people might imagine when they looked at you, the golden child, and him, the sharp-tongued, perpetually smirking senior. You didn’t hold hands unless necessary. You didn’t go on dates unless it served a purpose. He played the charming, doting boyfriend at family dinners, his wit and charisma winning over even your most skeptical relatives.

And you? You became his silent shield at parties, the poised partner who kept the clingy girls at bay and gave his otherwise reckless image a veneer of respectability.

It worked. For a while.

You didn’t notice, at first, the way his gaze lingered too long when you weren’t looking. How he started rearranging his schedule to align with yours, his texts becoming more frequent, more personal. You chalked it up to him playing his role—nothing more, nothing less.

But beneath the surface of your carefully constructed arrangement, something was shifting. Slowly. Inexorably.

And neither of you realized it yet.

────────────

The partnership was a tightrope walk over a chasm, a precarious balance between your structured determination and his reckless improvisation. Where you sought order, he thrived in chaos; where you demanded precision, he operated on instinct. Your interactions were a battlefield of clashing ideologies, the tension sharp enough to draw blood.

You didn’t like him. Not really. And he knew it.

“You’re wound tighter than a noose, golden girl,” he’d say, leaning back in his chair during late-night meetings in the library, a toothpick shifting lazily between his teeth. “Relax. Not everything needs a ten-step plan.”

“And you’re far too comfortable winging it,” you’d retort without looking up from your notes, your pen scratching across the page in rhythmic defiance. “Some of us actually care about results.”

“Results?” He’d laugh, low and mocking, his voice a rasp in the dimly lit room. “You mean the kind your parents can frame and hang on a wall?”

That stung, though you never let it show. You simply straightened your spine, raised your chin, and met his gaze with a glare cold enough to freeze fire.

“Do you even have a plan for your life after graduation?” you shot back, your words slicing through his amusement. “Or are you planning to charm your way through that, too?”

The smirk faltered for just a moment, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. Then it was back, sharper than before. “Why bother with a plan when I’ve got you to micromanage everything?”

It was always like this. Barbs exchanged like gunfire, neither of you willing to yield an inch. But when the conversation shifted to the projects you were working on together—the startup pitch for your entrepreneurship course, the meticulously researched presentations you delivered as a team—something strange happened.

The arguments faded, replaced by an almost eerie synchronization.

“What if we market it as a subscription model?” he’d suggest, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his fingers drumming against the table as his mind raced ahead.

You’d hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek, before nodding slowly. “It could work. If we tie it to a loyalty program—discounts for long-term users.”

“And gamify it,” he’d add, his eyes gleaming with an excitement you rarely saw in him. “Make it addictive. People love chasing badges and achievements. Psychological manipulation at its finest.”

“That’s… a disturbingly good idea,” you admitted, scribbling notes furiously.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased, though his grin lacked its usual edge. “Even I can be useful.”

For those brief moments, it was as if the constant friction between you two ignited something productive, something almost electric. You hated to admit it, but working with him was exhilarating in a way that was entirely new to you.

And yet, outside of those moments of collaboration, the tension only grew.

You started noticing the little ways he got under your skin: the way he’d leave his half-empty coffee cups on your desk during meetings, forcing you to clean up after him. The way he’d interrupt your carefully rehearsed presentations with off-the-cuff jokes that somehow always landed better than your meticulously prepared slides.

“You’re infuriating,” you snapped one evening, your voice tight with exhaustion as you shoved a pile of his crumpled notes back into his hands. “Do you even take this seriously?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his tone unusually soft, his gaze steady. “I just don’t take you seriously. Not everything’s a life-or-death scenario, golden girl.”

You hated him. You hated the way he dismissed you, the way he seemed to find amusement in your frustration. But more than that, you hated the way he could turn around and say something so insightful, so perfectly aligned with your own thoughts, that it left you reeling.

It was a strange kind of intimacy, this constant push and pull, this battle of wills that neither of you could seem to win.

And though you didn’t know it yet, the cracks were already beginning to form in the walls you’d built around yourself.

────────────

The first time he saw you, he knew exactly what you were: a fortress. Polished stone walls, towering spires, and gates sealed shut with bolts of iron. Your every movement, every word, every carefully measured breath screamed control.

And he? He had never met a fortress he didn’t want to sack.

At first, it was curiosity. A passing interest in the girl who spoke with the precision of a scalpel, who held her chin high as if the weight of the world rested comfortably on her shoulders. He’d seen your type before—sharp, ambitious, ruthless—but there was something different about you.

It was the way your voice never trembled, even when your words cut like glass. The way your eyes locked onto his, cold and unyielding, like you were daring him to try something. Anything.

So, he did.

From the very beginning, he made it his mission to chip away at that armor, to find the cracks in your flawless facade.

“Golden girl,” he’d call you, the nickname dripping with mockery. He loved the way your jaw would tighten ever so slightly when he said it, how your fingers would twitch like you wanted to slap the grin off his face but couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

He started small—interrupting your meticulously organized schedules with his “spontaneous” detours, leaving his belongings in your space just to watch you bristle. But as the days turned into weeks, his methods grew more deliberate.

“Relax,” he’d say, leaning too close during one of your late-night study sessions, his voice a low murmur that was equal parts teasing and commanding. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep clenching your teeth like that.”

Your response was always the same—a cold, cutting remark delivered in that icy tone of yours, your expression a mask of indifference. But he could see through it. He could see the flicker of irritation in your eyes, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened.

He loved it.

Because while you thought you were unshakable, he knew better. He saw the storm that brewed beneath your surface, the fire you tried so desperately to hide. And nothing thrilled him more than coaxing it out of you, one spark at a time.

One evening, he pushed too far.

“I’m starting to think you like this,” he said, his voice low and mocking as he leaned against the edge of your desk, his presence an unwelcome shadow in the otherwise sterile room.

“Like what?” you asked without looking up, your tone laced with exhaustion and barely concealed annoyance.

“This,” he gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “The arguing, the tension. You get this little spark in your eye when you’re mad, you know. It’s cute.”

That did it. You slammed your pen down with a force that echoed in the silence, your eyes snapping to his with a glare that could have burned through steel.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice sharp enough to cut.

And yet, even as you said it, he caught the faintest tremor in your voice. Barely noticeable. But to him, it was everything.

He leaned closer, his grin softening into something almost intimate, almost dangerous. “Maybe. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with an electricity that neither of you fully understood yet.

It was in those moments, in the way you tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length, that he realized he was beginning to crave you. Not just the fire in your eyes or the sharpness of your tongue, but you.

The fortress was starting to crack, and he intended to be there when it fell.

────────────

The cafeteria was alive with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clinking of trays. It was a battlefield of social interaction, chaotic and loud, yet somehow orchestrated, with alliances formed over shared meals and fleeting camaraderie. You didn’t belong here.

You kept your steps measured and precise, your gaze fixed forward, avoiding the swirling mass of humanity around you. People parted instinctively as you walked past, their conversations dimming for just a moment before resuming. Your presence was a ripple in the atmosphere—not disruptive, but enough to remind everyone that you were there.

And then you saw him.

He was in the center of it all, as he always was, the eye of the storm. His laughter carried over the din, rich and unrestrained, a sound that drew people in like moths to a flame. He sat perched on the edge of a table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, spinning some ridiculous story that had everyone around him enraptured.

They hung on his every word, their faces lit with genuine amusement, their eyes sparkling with admiration. He had that rare, inexplicable magnetism, the kind that made people want to be near him, to bask in his energy. He wasn’t just popular—he was adored.

And you?

You were the anomaly. The outlier. People respected you, even feared you, but they didn’t enjoy you. They didn’t invite you to sit at their tables, didn’t seek out your company for anything beyond necessity. You were an island—solitary, unyielding, and self-sufficient.

You didn’t envy him. Not exactly.

But as you stood there, watching him effortlessly weave connections, a quiet thought slipped into your mind like a shadow in the dark: What if you were different?

What if you could be like him, with his easy charm and boundless charisma? What if you could laugh like that, unburdened and free, instead of wearing the cold mask you’d perfected over the years?

The thought lingered for a moment too long, and then you shook it off, burying it deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t have time for such things. You were efficient, logical, focused. Emotions had no place in your life—not since childhood, when you’d learned the hard way that they were a liability.

So you turned away, letting the sound of his laughter fade into the background as you made your way to the meeting room. The sterile, quiet space was more familiar to you than any cafeteria, more comfortable than any crowd.

He was already there when you arrived, sprawled in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand, his grin as sharp as ever.

“You’re late,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words.

“You’re early,” you replied, your tone neutral, as you set your things down on the table.

“Touché,” he said, watching you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Saw you pass through the cafeteria. Thought you might stop by to say hi.”

“I don’t make detours,” you said curtly, pulling out your laptop and powering it on.

“That much is clear,” he muttered, almost to himself, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The meeting began, the two of you falling into your usual rhythm of sharp exchanges and begrudging collaboration. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny sliver of something stirred—a flicker of awareness, of something you couldn’t quite name, whenever he spoke or laughed.

You told yourself it was nothing.

And for now, you believed it.

────────────

The garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke, the hum of a barely-functional heater filling the space with a low, constant drone. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered occasionally, casting long, jittery shadows across the room. The boys were sprawled around the billiard table, cheap beers in hand, the air crackling with laughter and banter.

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, cue stick in hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he lined up his next shot. His movements were lazy, almost careless, but his sharp eyes betrayed the precision in every calculation.

“So,” one of them started, a wiry guy with a perpetual grin that made him look younger than he was. “This new girl of yours… she’s the one keeping you so busy these days?”

Another guy chimed in, his tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Yeah, man, you’ve been skipping out on poker nights. Thought you were allergic to commitment.”

He laughed, the sound low and throaty, as he took his shot. The crack of the cue ball hitting its target echoed through the room, the striped ball sinking neatly into the corner pocket. “Allergic? Please. I don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

The guys laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, their teasing picking up momentum.

“So what’s her deal, huh?” The wiry one pressed, leaning against his own cue stick. “Rich? Hot? Bet she’s one of those uptight types you love to mess with.”

He straightened, twirling the cue stick between his fingers as he leaned back against the table, his smirk widening. “You could say that. She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” another guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You? Interested in someone? Hell, what’s she got—blackmail material? A hit out on your family?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something sharper, something darker. “She’s just… different. Keeps me on my toes.”

The wiry one snorted. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he shot back, his grin sharp as a blade.

They laughed again, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as he took another swig of his beer.

“Come on,” the wiry one said, jabbing his cue stick in his direction. “You’re not seriously into her, are you? Thought you didn’t do serious.”

“I don’t,” he replied smoothly, setting his bottle down with a loud clink. “It’s transactional. Mutual benefit, you know? She gets what she wants; I get what I want. Simple.”

“Sounds like a business deal,” someone muttered.

He shrugged, his smirk never faltering. “Aren’t all relationships?”

The guys laughed again, the conversation shifting to the next round of the game, but his mind lingered on the question.

He wasn’t serious about her. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

And yet, every time he saw her—the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she tried so hard to keep him at a distance—it felt like a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

She was a fortress, and he was a conqueror.

For now, he could laugh, joke, and deflect. But the truth was darker, heavier, lurking in the corners of his mind like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

He lined up his next shot, the sharp crack of the cue ball echoing through the garage.

This wasn’t serious.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

────────────

The room was suffocating, its air thick with the sterile scent of recycled oxygen and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. Papers were scattered across the table like fallen leaves in the aftermath of a storm, their sharp edges curling under the weight of your restless hands. The tension in your shoulders was a tangible thing, coiled tight and ready to snap.

He watched you from across the table, leaning back in his chair with the kind of casual ease that set your teeth on edge. You were all sharp lines and rigid control, while he was a picture of unbothered confidence, spinning a pen between his fingers like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on him too.

“You look like hell,” he said finally, his voice low and infuriatingly amused.

You didn’t bother looking up, your focus glued to the screen of your laptop, the keys clicking beneath your fingers with a ferocity that spoke of barely restrained frustration. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his gaze bore into you. “Fine enough to bite my head off if I ask what’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your voice colder than the sterile glow of the room.

That gave him pause, his smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d seen you angry before, irritated, exasperated—but this was different. There was something raw in your tone, something brittle and sharp, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fine,” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke only he understood. “You’re so fine you’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes without typing a single word.”

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system.

“Drop it,” you said finally, your tone icy enough to frost the windows.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping into something quieter, more deliberate. “What’s going on with you, golden girl? Family drama? Business crap? Or is it just me getting under your skin again?”

His teasing grin was met with nothing but silence as you slammed your laptop shut with a force that echoed through the room. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and turned to leave without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Hey,” he called after you, his voice following you like a shadow. “You can’t just walk away from me.”

But you did.

The door closed behind you with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the oppressive stillness of the room.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the spot where you’d been, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

He didn’t like this.

Not the way your walls seemed higher than ever, not the way your shoulders trembled just slightly when you thought no one was looking, and certainly not the way his chest tightened at the thought of you breaking under the pressure you refused to share with anyone—not even him.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his jaw a stark contrast to the easy grin he usually wore.

You could try to shut him out, build your walls higher, bury yourself in your icy fortress.

But he’d be damned if he let you freeze him out completely.

────────────

The argument started small—a quiet refusal on your part, your tone clipped and dismissive as always.

“I have work to do,” you’d said, fingers gripping the edge of the desk like it was an anchor in the rising tide of his persistence.

He didn’t care.

“No, you don’t,” he replied, his voice too light, too casual, the grin on his face sharpening as he loomed over you. “Not today. Today, you’re going out. With me.”

You scoffed, turning your chair away from him in a move that was more defensive than you’d ever admit. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. Go bother someone else.”

“Not happening,” he said, and before you could blink, he was behind you, his shadow engulfing yours. His hand was warm and firm on your shoulder, and when you tried to pull away, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of how much bigger, stronger, and more stubborn he was.

“Let go,” you hissed, twisting in your chair to glare up at him, your voice venomous and cold.

Instead of answering, he bent down, his grin infuriatingly smug as he hooked an arm around your waist in one fluid motion.

“Don’t you dare—”

Your words were cut off with a sharp gasp as he hoisted you up with ease, your stomach flipping as he slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

“Relax,” he said, his tone still maddeningly cheerful as he adjusted his hold on you. “You’re overdue for some fun, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Put me down!” you snapped, your fists pounding against his back, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Not until you promise to stop being such a workaholic,” he shot back, his grin audible in his voice. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

The sound of your struggles echoed through the hallway as he carried you out, your threats growing more creative with every step. But he didn’t falter, didn’t even seem fazed, his grip on you secure as if your thrashing was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

When he finally set you down, it was with the kind of exaggerated care that only added insult to injury. You found yourself standing in the middle of an amusement park, the air thick with the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the distant hum of roller coasters roaring above the sea of colorful lights.

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice tight with irritation as you glared up at him, your arms crossed defensively.

“A date,” he said simply, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “You’ve never been to an amusement park, right? Figured it was time to fix that.”

“I told you, I don’t have time for—”

He cut you off with a sigh, his hand ruffling his hair in exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Work, work, work. But you’re here now, so you might as well enjoy it. Who knows? You might actually have fun for once.”

You stared at him, your mind racing for a retort, but the sound of children laughing and the sight of the spinning lights around you left you momentarily disarmed.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice begrudging and low. “But don’t think this means anything.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich as he held out a hand toward you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, golden girl.”

You didn’t take his hand, of course. But you didn’t walk away, either.

────────────

The amusement park was loud—a riot of color, noise, and movement that grated against your carefully constructed barriers. You were used to silence, to the sterile calm of office rooms and library corners. This place was chaos incarnate, a swirling mass of laughter, screams, and the clatter of machinery that felt like it could grind your composure to dust.

And he loved every second of it.

“Come on,” he said, his hand tightening around yours as he pulled you further into the fray. His grip was warm, insistent, and utterly unyielding, a stark contrast to the chill of your reluctance.

“This is unnecessary,” you muttered, your voice clipped as you tried to keep up with his long strides. “We’re wasting time.”

“You mean you’re wasting time,” he shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that was equal parts teasing and determined. “Me? I’m having a blast.”

You tried to tug your hand free, but his grip only tightened, his strength a quiet reminder of the power imbalance you hated acknowledging.

“Let go,” you demanded, your tone sharp enough to cut glass.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, pulling you closer until your shoulder bumped against his. “Boyfriend privilege. Now stop sulking and try to look like you’re having fun.”

Before you could argue, he steered you toward a brightly lit stand selling oversized stuffed animals and cheap prizes. The attendant handed him a small air rifle with a grin, and he lined up his shot with an exaggerated flourish.

“You’re kidding,” you said flatly, watching as he aimed at the array of moving targets.

“Don’t underestimate me, golden girl,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock seriousness as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and a tin can toppled off its perch. He turned to you with a triumphant grin. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as he handed the attendant a crumpled bill for another round. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is fun,” he corrected, his eyes narrowing in playful focus as he took another shot. Another can fell, and the attendant handed him a large, garish stuffed cat. He turned and thrust it toward you with a flourish.

“Here. For you.”

You stared at the stuffed cat, its glassy eyes staring back at you with an absurdly cheerful expression. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” he said, pressing it into your arms. “Consider it a reminder to loosen up once in a while.”

You glared at him, but the faintest flicker of warmth crept into your chest, uninvited and unwelcome. He caught the twitch of your lips and grinned wider, his satisfaction practically radiating off him.

────────────

The roller coaster clattered upward, its chain mechanisms grinding with a metallic groan that reverberated through the skeleton of the ride. Each tick of the ascent was a promise, a prelude to chaos as the world below shrank into a mosaic of glittering lights and blurred figures. Beside you, he was practically vibrating with excitement, his grin a wolfish slash of white against the neon glow.

“You nervous yet?” he asked, his voice carrying easily over the mechanical din.

“No,” you replied flatly, your tone as unflinching as your posture. Your hands were clasped loosely in your lap, your expression an unmoving mask of calm.

He huffed, his grin faltering into something more incredulous. “Seriously? You’re not even a little scared?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

The drop came suddenly—a violent plunge that pulled the breath from everyone around you, their screams mingling with the wind's roar. The car tilted, twisted, hurtled through the loops and spirals with bone-rattling speed.

And you didn’t flinch.

When the ride screeched to a halt, his hair was wild, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline, and his grin wide enough to split his face. He turned to you, fully expecting to see some crack in your armor—a flicker of unease, a faint trace of thrill.

But you were already unclasping your seatbelt, your face a portrait of indifferent calm.

“Wow,” he said, dragging the word out as he climbed out of the car behind you. “Not even a scream? Not even a little ‘oh no, I’m gonna die!’?”

“It was fine,” you said, brushing invisible dust from your jacket as if the entire experience had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Fine,” he repeated, his tone a mixture of disbelief and mockery. “It’s a death machine on rails, and all you’ve got is ‘fine’?”

You shrugged, your gaze drifting to the next ride. “What’s next?”

He stared at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and amusement flashing in his eyes before his grin returned with a vengeance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

———

The next stop was a haunted house. The entrance was cloaked in fog, its jagged letters dripping with artificial blood as distorted moans and sinister whispers spilled from within.

“This,” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the dark maw of the attraction, “is where you’re finally gonna break.”

You stepped inside without hesitation, the darkness swallowing you both. Animatronic ghouls lunged from the shadows, their plastic claws snapping inches from your face. A specter floated above you, its hollow eyes glowing red as it let out a guttural scream.

But you didn’t flinch.

By the time you emerged on the other side, his grin had soured into a frustrated scowl. “You’re kidding me,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing? Not even a ‘holy crap, that’s creepy’?”

“They tried too hard,” you replied evenly. “The suspense was predictable.”

“You’re a robot,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “An actual, emotionless robot.”

———

At the dart-throwing booth, he claimed he’d win you another stuffed animal to add to the growing collection he’d forced on you throughout the night. The attendant handed him a set of darts, and he aimed with exaggerated focus, his tongue poking out slightly in mock determination.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, your expression as neutral as ever.

“Bet I can hit all three bullseyes,” he said, tossing a dart into the air and catching it with a flourish. “And if I do, you have to smile. Deal?”

“I’m not making that deal,” you replied, your voice as dry as the desert air.

“Scared I’ll win?” he teased, launching the first dart. It missed the bullseye by a hair.

“Not particularly,” you said, watching as he threw the second dart, this one landing even farther from the center.

By the third throw, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up as the dart barely grazed the edge of the target. “Okay, maybe I’m a little rusty,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at this,” you said, your tone cool but tinged with the faintest edge of amusement.

He turned to you, his grin returning full force. “There it is! A hint of a smirk! I knew you had emotions buried under all that ice.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the next attraction. He followed, his steps quick and eager, like a hunter who’d finally glimpsed their prey.

The night stretched on, filled with more teasing, more dragging you to rides you didn’t care for, and more attempts to crack your facade. By the end of it, he was exhausted but victorious, a spring in his step as he carried yet another oversized stuffed animal under his arm.

“You had fun,” he declared as you walked toward the exit.

“You’re delusional,” you replied, but there was no venom in your voice.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning closer, his grin practically glowing in the dark. “You loved it.”

You didn’t respond, but for the briefest moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward—a flicker of something you didn’t even recognize as a smile.

And that was enough for him.

────────────

The Ferris wheel loomed above like a spinning constellation, its skeletal frame outlined in garish neon light that flickered against the starless sky. You were already seated, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward as the car rocked gently in the breeze. He slid in beside you, the faint scent of cologne and adrenaline trailing in his wake, and the metal bar clamped down with an ominous click, locking the two of you in place.

“Relax,” he said, his voice a shade softer than usual, though still laced with that persistent edge of mischief. “This is the best part of the night. Views like this? They don’t come often.”

You didn’t respond. The city below unfolded in a sea of chaotic lights, each one a reminder of the noise you’d been forced into. A quiet hum of tension coiled in your chest, a restless ache that he seemed to notice, though you wished he wouldn’t.

The wheel began to ascend, the creak of its movement loud in the silence between you. His gaze flicked from the cityscape to you, studying the profile of your face as though trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

“You know,” he began, leaning back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh, “you’re really bad at this whole ‘fun’ thing.”

“I’m aware,” you said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

“You’re supposed to be amazed by the view,” he teased, gesturing toward the glittering expanse below. “You know, lean in a little, say something like, ‘Oh wow, it’s so beautiful.’”

“Do I seem like the type to do that?” you asked, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“No,” he admitted, his grin lopsided and warm in a way that caught you off guard. “But it’d be nice to see you try.”

The Ferris wheel stopped suddenly, your car swaying slightly as it perched at the very top. He looked out over the city, his grin fading into something quieter, something uncharacteristically reflective.

“Pretty high up, huh?” he said, more to himself than to you.

You followed his gaze, the city spread out like a map, its lights blurred and distant. The air up here felt thinner, cleaner, as though you’d left the chaos below and entered some liminal space where nothing could reach you.

And then he looked back at you.

———

For the first time in a long time, the constant noise in his head—the laughter, the jokes, the relentless chatter that kept the silence at bay—dimmed into something else. Something quieter. Something unsettling. He wasn’t used to this kind of stillness, this kind of weight pressing against the walls of his ribcage.

You didn’t notice, of course. Your gaze was fixed on the view, your profile illuminated by the cold, artificial light of the Ferris wheel’s cabin. To anyone else, you might’ve seemed serene, but he knew better. There was tension in the set of your jaw, in the way your fingers gripped the edge of the seat as though you needed to hold onto something to keep from slipping away entirely.

He hated that he noticed these things. Hated that, for once, his usual shield of irreverence and detachment wasn’t enough to keep this gnawing feeling at bay.

It wasn’t love—not the dizzying, saccharine thing he’d seen in movies or read about in books. It was something darker, sharper, as though you were a shard of glass lodged under his skin. He couldn’t stop himself from turning you over in his mind, dissecting every detail, every flaw, every crack in your otherwise impenetrable armor.

You were fascinating in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

His hand twitched on the seat between you, the urge to reach out almost unbearable. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. The thought of touching you—of closing that impossible distance—was terrifying in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fear of rejection; he could handle that. It was something else, something far more primal.

Because if he touched you, if he broke through that careful veneer of professionalism and indifference, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the view. “What what’s like?”

“To feel alive,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t respond.

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, leaning back against the seat. “Never mind. Stupid question.”

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

Because for the first time in years—maybe ever—he felt something. Something real.

And it unsettled him.

———

“I don’t get you,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re impossible to crack, and for some reason, I can’t stop trying.”

You raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

The silence between you two was a taut string, stretched so thin it felt as if the smallest sound might snap it. Outside the cabin, the Ferris wheel creaked as it swayed gently, the city sprawled below like a graveyard of flickering lights. Inside, the air felt heavier, dense with something intangible and electric that neither of you dared to name.

He shifted closer, so subtly that you didn’t notice at first. The slight groan of the seat’s weight-bearing joints was drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat, a rhythm he suddenly couldn’t ignore. His arm rested casually against the back of the seat, but his entire body was taut, every muscle coiled as if anticipating some unspoken impact.

His gaze drifted to you, no longer playful or teasing but something else—something raw, a little desperate, and utterly unfamiliar to him. He could see the faint outline of your lashes against your cheek, the soft curve of your lips as your expression remained distant, detached.

And yet, to him, you were a storm barely contained, your quietness thrumming with an energy he could feel in his bones.

He didn’t notice the way his own breathing had shifted, deeper now, as if his body were bracing for something he couldn’t quite define. His eyes flicked downward—just a moment, a heartbeat—and caught on the soft shape of your mouth. It wasn’t intentional, but once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.

He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the tight confines of the cabin.

“I—” he started, his voice faltering like an engine choking on its own fuel. He barely recognized the sound coming out of his mouth, stripped of its usual bravado and swagger.

He should’ve stopped there. Should’ve cracked a joke or leaned back with that cocky grin that had always been his armor. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His hand lifted almost on its own, shaking slightly as it reached toward your face. The tips of his fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that felt alien to him. It was clumsy, hesitant—nothing like the smooth confidence he usually exuded.

The heat radiating from you was intoxicating, pulling him closer even as his mind screamed at him to stop. His breath hitched as he leaned in, so slowly it felt as though time itself had slowed to a crawl.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. The usual whirlwind of his mind—sharp, quick, always moving—had stilled completely.

All he could focus on was you.

The curve of your lips. The faint rise and fall of your chest. The way you still hadn’t looked at him, so lost in your own world that you hadn’t yet noticed the dangerous proximity between you.

His breath mingled with yours now, warm and unsteady, as his lips hovered just a hair’s breadth away from yours. His eyes half-closed, the edges of his vision blurring as every instinct in him screamed to close the gap.

And then—

Your eyes snapped to his, sharp and unyielding like a blade cutting through fog.

It hit you like a jolt of electricity, the realization of just how close he was, how dangerously near his lips hovered to yours.

But it hit him harder.

The sharpness in your gaze was like a bucket of ice water, dousing the fire he hadn’t even realized had been consuming him.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he froze in place. He looked at you—not just at you, but into you—as though seeing something he hadn’t been prepared for.

And for the first time in his life, he felt utterly and completely exposed.

———

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, as though he’d swallowed gravel. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?”

You stiffened, your brows knitting together in a glare that could have frozen the sun. “That’s none of your concern.”

He laughed softly, the sound devoid of its usual bravado. “Oh, but it is, sweetheart. I’m your boyfriend, remember?” His voice dipped into that familiar, playful lilt, but there was something else beneath it now—a hunger, a yearning he didn’t fully understand.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you didn’t pull away. Not yet. That tiny sliver of hope spurred him on, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought in his head.

“I bet no one’s dared,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as his thumb traced slow circles against your jaw. “You’re too intimidating. Too untouchable.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “But not to me.”

And then, he closed the gap.

It wasn’t a calculated move, nor was it born of confidence. It was instinctive, driven by a force he couldn’t name. His lips brushed yours, tentative and hesitant, as though afraid you might shatter beneath his touch.

For a fraction of a second, everything else fell away—the city lights, the Ferris wheel, the constant cacophony of his mind. All that existed was you, the impossible warmth of you, and the way your lips were softer than he’d dared imagine—

And then, the world snapped back into focus.

Your palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, resounding slap that echoed through the tiny cabin. The force of it sent his head snapping to the side, his lips tingling from the abrupt end of the kiss.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice as sharp and cold as a blade.

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before his signature grin broke across his face. His cheek was already reddening, and he rubbed it with a dramatic wince, leaning back in his seat as though to put some distance between you.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. Ice queen stays frosty. My bad for trying to thaw you out a little.”

His tone was playful, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something raw and uncertain that he buried as quickly as it surfaced.

You glared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “This is a transactional relationship. Don’t forget that.”

“Transaction noted,” he quipped, the grin never leaving his face. “But for the record? That slap was totally worth it.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch, and turned your attention back to the window.

But he didn’t stop watching you.

As he rubbed his sore cheek, his grin softened into something quieter, something closer to a smile. He didn’t fully understand what had compelled him to kiss you, nor did he understand why your rejection didn’t sting the way it should have.

All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he wanted to try again.

———

“Did you think that was going to work?” you interrupted, your tone sharp enough to cut steel.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as the initial shock melted into something more familiar: that damn grin. “Wow, okay. I go for one kiss—one—and you act like I tried to steal your soul.”

“You did try to steal something,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “My patience.”

“That’s already gone,” he countered, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You can’t slap me twice for the same crime.”

“Try me,” you said, your glare unwavering.

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine as he rubbed his cheek. “Man, you’re vicious. It’s kind of hot.”

────────────

He watched as you rubbed your sleeve across your mouth, your motions brisk and unrelenting, as though scrubbing the very memory of him off your skin. His grin faltered for just a second, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. Of course, you weren’t—you never were. Your focus was singular, your eyes narrowed and lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line as though he’d just committed a cardinal sin.

It stung more than he cared to admit. Not that he’d let you see it. No, no. His ego may have been bruised, but he wasn’t about to lick his wounds in front of you. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with a dramatic sigh, one hand pressed over his chest as though your rejection had physically pierced him.

“Wow,” he drawled, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief. “I didn’t realize my kiss was that traumatic. Should I be offended or impressed by your dedication to erasure?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it only fueled the smirk crawling back onto his face.

“Seriously,” he continued, ignoring the icy tension radiating off you. “I’ve seen people wipe ketchup off their mouths with less vigor. I mean, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You didn’t respond, too busy swiping at your lips like a woman possessed, as though the mere memory of his touch was a poison you needed to purge.

He leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening to a dangerous edge. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna scrub your skin raw. And here I thought I was the one who left a mark.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, your tone colder than the winter wind.

“Oh, but it’s so easy when you’re this much fun.” He rested his chin in his palm, his grin widening as he studied you like you were his favorite puzzle. “Though I gotta say, you’re hurting my feelings here. Most girls would be swooning right about now. But you?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Stone cold. A real ice queen through and through.”

“Good,” you bit back, finally lowering your sleeve. “Maybe you’ll think twice before pulling another stunt like that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, but there was a flicker of something more behind it—something softer, unspoken. “You think I’m gonna stop? Not a chance. You’re way too fun to mess with.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the window. “Whatever. Just…keep your distance.”

“Sure thing, princess.” His voice dipped into a mock-serious tone, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “But don’t blame me when you start dreaming about it later. They say first kisses are unforgettable, after all.”

Your hand twitched like you were debating whether or not to slap him again, but you refrained, choosing instead to glare daggers at the glass.

He leaned back with a satisfied hum, crossing his arms as his grin softened into something quieter, something almost contemplative.

You might have been disgusted, but at least you weren’t indifferent. That thought alone was enough to keep his grin intact.

———

The cabin settled into a tense quiet, broken only by the faint creaks of the Ferris wheel as it descended. You’d stopped scrubbing at your lips, though the memory of his clumsy attempt lingered, palpable and unwelcome. With a slow, deliberate breath, you turned your focus outward, toward the sprawling view of the amusement park bathed in fractured, golden light.

“I’ll have you know,” you said softly, your voice sharp yet devoid of its earlier venom, “that wasn’t my first kiss.”

The words were like a scalpel, slicing clean and deep, leaving behind a sting that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t show it. He never did.

Instead, he let out a short laugh, tilting his head as though brushing off your statement with his usual flippancy. “Well, color me surprised,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock astonishment. “The ice queen has a romantic history. Who’d have thought?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t rise to the bait. The apathy in your gaze was unyielding, and that, more than your words, struck a chord he couldn’t name.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless, the smirk on his face becoming harder to maintain. Something stirred beneath his practiced exterior, an unfamiliar heat that crawled up his spine and settled, uncomfortably, in his chest.

Why did it matter?

He leaned back, forcing a casual posture, though the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Well, good for you,” he said, a little too quickly, a little too brightly. “Guess I can’t claim to be your first, huh?”

There it was again, that strange burning sensation. It twisted and coiled, feeding on itself, until it became something dark and unrelenting. He told himself it was nothing—just his ego stinging from your rejection. But deep down, in a part of himself he rarely acknowledged, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

You tilted your head slightly, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the park below. “It wasn’t anything special,” you said, your tone devoid of emotion. “Just another transaction.”

Another transaction.

The words settled like lead in his stomach.

He laughed again, louder this time, but the sound rang hollow in his own ears. “Figures,” he said, his voice pitched light and teasing, masking the weight behind the words. “Trust you to make even romance sound like a business deal.”

You glanced at him, one brow arched, and for a moment, he thought you might say something else. Instead, you turned back to the window, your posture relaxed but distant, like the space between you was a chasm neither of you could—or would—cross.

His gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way the faint light cast shadows across your face. That burning sensation flared again, sharp and insistent, as though it were trying to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.

He didn’t understand it—this sudden, inexplicable need to prove himself to you, to earn something that no transaction could buy. It gnawed at him, a quiet fury that wouldn’t be silenced, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.

For the first time in his life, he felt unsteady, uncertain, as though the foundation he’d built himself on was beginning to crack.

And he hated it.

“Must’ve been a hell of a boring kiss,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bet I could’ve done better.”

You snorted softly, but didn’t take the bait.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken, as the Ferris wheel continued its slow descent.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel like laughing.

Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend & Cheating Bitch

Novella 1 : Friction & Fire

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Some truths are better left buried.

♡ A/N. Another planned work in my drafts that I haven’t released yet before, but here it is now. Technically an ask, but I prefer to answer this with a fic :)) Ok….. so I checked it and it's turning into 12k+ words. Went a bit ham, and still going. Might turn it into a Novella. Why do I write so much, ahh. So, I'll be dividing the parts (6 parts). Sorry. Probably, the slowest burn yandere among all my works at the moment.... I think. But, still for me, pretty fast burn romance, because we focus on yandere content. Lol. Also side note, if you like ENTP 7w8 yanderes (e.g. Gojo, Hawks, Dazai, Vanitas, Kuroo)? Well, this one's for you. Made a hardcore ENTP 7w8 yandere this time.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring