You're Mine Pt3- Yandere Highschool Bully x Reader : Final
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Evan says softly.
His voice coils around you like smoke, calm—too calm.
You turn slowly, heartbeat thundering in your throat, eyes locked onto him as he steps from the shadows behind you. That smile is still there. Crooked. Controlled. Watching you like you’re prey that wandered into the trap.
The corkboard looms behind him.
Four girls. Crossed out. You’re the fifth. The only one without a red line slashed across her photo.
“You think you’re the victim,” he says, stepping forward. “But you’re special. You’ve always been different.”
You step back, a tremor in your knees. “You hurt those girls.”
“I made them mine,” he whispers. “But none of them fit. Not like you.”
You glance at the concrete floor—there are faint scuff marks, like something heavy was dragged. A chain bolts to the wall, barely visible behind a stack of boxes.
Your breath catches. “What did you do to them?”
Evan doesn’t answer. He tilts his head and studies your face like a piece of art. “You don’t scream. You don’t cry. That’s why I saved you for last.”
Fight or flight claws at your ribs.
You lunge toward the stairs. He grabs your wrist.
“Don’t,” he growls, voice losing its composure. “You don’t walk away from me. Not now.”
You twist free and sprint up the stairs, but the door—locked. From the inside.
He planned this.
Trapped. In his house. In the room filled with your face.
You search wildly—kitchen knife on the counter. You grip it. He follows, steps deliberate and slow.
“I know you,” he murmurs. “Every habit. Every look. You can't leave me like they did.”
Your hand tightens around the handle. “I’m not yours.”
Evan freezes. A flicker of something unravels in his eyes—rage? Grief? Madness?
Then he rushes you.
You dodge. Slam the knife down—but it grazes his shoulder. He roars in pain, grabs your arm, forces the blade to the floor.
“You were supposed to choose me!”
The struggle is brutal. Furniture crashes, glass shatters. He’s stronger, but you’re desperate. You kick, claw, scream.
And finally—sirens.
Lights. Red and blue strobe through the windows.
Someone called. Maybe a neighbor heard.
Evan’s grip falters just enough, and you shove him back hard. He stumbles as the door bursts open.
Police flood in. Guns drawn. He doesn’t fight them.
They drag him out, snarling, eyes locked on you.
“I waited for you,” he calls as they take him. “They never understood. But you will. You will.”
The house is quiet again.
Weeks later, you find out more. The girls? Missing. Some presumed dead. Others fled and never came forward.
You testified. You moved. You started over.
But some nights, when the wind scratches at your window, you think about the corkboard. About how close you came.
And about Evan’s final words—like a promise written in blood.
“You were the finale.”
Maybe you were. But you were also the ending he never saw coming.
did my best <3
@sweet-flowering
