Dealing with the Devil [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 5 - Talk

"The thing is," I started to explain, but before I could say another word, my phone blared loudly with an obnoxious ringtone.

It was so unexpectedly loud because, for some reason, my sound was turned up to the max. Flustered, I quickly silenced it, realizing that I had been interrupted at a crucial moment.

"Like i was saying i think someone-"

My phone pops back on again blasting this loud ringtone

"Sorry one sec" i take my phone and go out in the hallway and i see it was a message

Creep

As much as i love you, your going to have to

keep your mouth shut

Creep

Did you not understand my warning?

How did they...

Me

You hacked my phone

Babe

Yes, shame to see my contact name

Panic coursed through me, and I found myself pacing back and forth in a frenzied state. My heart raced, and each breath felt constricted, like I was suffocating.

"That sick son of a—"

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted as I collided with someone, stumbling back. I looked up, and there he was, the enigmatic figure known as the Devil.

"Ah, I'm sorry," I stammered, my words stumbling over my anxiety.

"You really have to watch where you're going," he remarked in a joking tone, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This is twice now."

"Sorry, I'm just super stressed out," I admitted, my nerves fraying.

He observed me for a moment as I continued to pace, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone softening as he registered the turmoil etched across my face.

"I'm fine," I replied, my response more of a reflex than an honest answer.

I retreated to my dorm room once more, seeking refuge from the overwhelming anxiety. But as I entered, I was greeted by the insistent ringing of my phone, a stark reminder that the world outside continued to demand my attention. I answered

"Aw, did I freak you out?" he taunted, his voice altered by an annoying voice changer.

"You are so annoying," I retorted with exasperation.

"Who was that boy you were talking to in the hallway?" he inquired.

"My tutor from hell," I replied dryly, expecting another round of his unsettling laughter.

"Why didn't you eat anything at lunch?" he continued, showing an unusual interest in my day.

"Oh, I didn't have any money," I responded, my tone tinged with bitterness.

"Why not? Does your parents send you money?" he probed, and I almost laughed at the irony of that question.

"I don't know, you tell me," I shot back, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line before he spoke again, his tone taking on an oddly possessive quality. "I could treat you so much better than them."

I couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of the situation. "Right, the creep who stalks me can treat me better than my parents. It's kinda depressing that it's true."

"So, how's school?" he asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the eerie territory it had ventured into.

"Don't you stalk me 24/7? I should be asking you that," I replied, my voice tinged with defiance.

"But I wanna hear you talk about it. I'll give you a present at the end," he promised, his tone unsettlingly calm.

"No way in hell am I acting like this is normal," I stated firmly. "It's one thing that I'm talking to you; it's another to treat you like someone I know."

"But I know you," he asserted, his words sending a chill down my spine.

"How do you know me?" I demanded, growing increasingly wary.

"I saw you at a party," he confessed, his tone unsettlingly intimate. "You looked so beautiful."

"How old are you?" I pressed, hoping to glean some information about this enigmatic figure.

"21," he replied, though I couldn't help but doubt the authenticity of that answer.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I opened my laptop, launched a word processing program, and began to type, "Confessions of a Sinner."

"What are you doing, baby?" he inquired, his voice taking on a more curious tone.

"What does it look like? I'm creating my project based on you," I responded, my fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Oh, that's so sweet," he commented, his voice dripping with an eerie enthusiasm.

"Tell me," I pressed, seizing the moment. "What are you willing to do for me?"

"Anything," he replied eagerly, his tone filled with anticipation.

"Great, send me money," I retorted, flipping the tables on our strange conversation, leaving him momentarily speechless.

A tense silence hung on the line, interrupted only by the faint echo of our breaths. Suddenly, there came a persistent knocking on my door, jolting me from our unusual conversation. I rushed to open it, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person responsible, but they had vanished too quickly.

In their absence, an envelope lay on the threshold, stuffed with crisp hundred-dollar bills. I snatched it up, my heart racing, and retreated back into my room.

"You know, if I wasn't so sure you're a middle-aged, ugly man, I would kiss you," I remarked playfully, my voice laced with astonishment.

"Really?" he responded, seemingly taken aback.

"Yes, really. This is more money than I've ever seen. Holy shit, how much is this?" I gasped.

"Ten thousand," he replied, his words hitting me like a thunderbolt.

Holy indeed.

"But I do have a condition," he added, his tone shifting.

"What is it?" I inquired, curiosity mingling with a sense of unease.

"I just want to know more about you," he explained.

We spent most of the night conversing about a myriad of random topics as I stared at the substantial sum of money before me. The following day, I attended my math class and then proceeded to my tutoring session. Navigating through the library, I finally reached the designated spot.

"Hi, Dev— I mean, Christian," I greeted him, momentarily stumbling over my words.

"What?" he replied, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"No, I mean, I just said hi," I replied, attempting to backtrack and hide my slip of the tongue. But his questioning gaze lingered, leaving me to wonder if he had caught the inadvertent revelation.