Dealing with the Devil [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 11 - Home Alone

Once school resumed and a semblance of normalcy returned, Christian informed me that we were going to rendezvous at his place. I adorned myself in fresh attire and persuaded Lora to drop me off at the designated location. 

Surprisingly, the stalker had ceased inundating me with texts, instilling a sense of relief tinged with lingering anxiety.

Pausing briefly before his doorstep, I summoned the courage to ring the bell. Christian greeted me with a welcoming smile as he swung the door open.

"Step inside, y/n," he invited.

Entering, we migrated to the living room and seamlessly resumed our conversation.

"How's your writing project progressing?" he inquired.

"It's going well," I replied. "I'm aiming for brevity with profound impact."

"Intriguing. What's the focus?"

"Obsession, particularly its destructive nature."

"Obsession?" he queried, turning his gaze towards me. "I don't believe it necessarily leads to destruction."

"But it does," I countered. "It's akin to overwatering a plant or exposing it to excessive sunlight."

"Plants are delicate; too little care can be just as harmful," he argued.

"True, but obsession can spiral into perilous territory," I insisted.

"Don't you find it romantic, though? Having someone utterly devoted to you?" he proposed.

"Only in fiction," I retorted. "In reality, it's likely to be frightening."

"Frightening?" he echoed, his expression almost incredulous.

Following that exchange, as soon as I stepped into the sanctuary of my room, a chilling notification pinged on my phone, breaking the silence like an ominous whisper in the night.

"I'm terrifying?"

A shiver ran down my spine as I realized the intrusion. Oh, I'd forgotten he'd bugged my phone, a realization that sent a wave of unease coursing through me, like a shadow creeping over my thoughts.

"Yes, downright scary," I replied with a trembling finger.

"I don't intend to be scary. I'm merely safeguarding you," came the swift response.

"You're delusional. I've read stories about people like you. You all seem to relish keeping the ones you claim to love imprisoned, hidden away for your exclusive adoration," I retorted, my words dripping with disdain.

Silence

No text

"No response to that one?" I remarked sarcastically, as I prepared to delve back into my writing project.

After a while of tapping away at my keyboard, another message flashed on my screen.

"No, I wouldn't, but no one deserves to see you, touch you, except me," the text declared possessively.

Fantastic, just another element to weave into my essay.

"But consider the ramifications of monopolizing the object of your affection, isolating them from the world like a child clutching a cherished toy, unwilling to let others share in its joy. Does not the toy lose its luster and vitality under such solitary confinement-"

My phone buzzed again. "I won't allow you to waste away."