:: 𑁍ࠬܓ ℒover, be good to me. ⟡ a yandere blog signed by 𝒴unyuu. ─────── she/her, twenty one, persian ・・・・・ she wore her beauty like a lily wearing a bruise, soft and white and already beginning to rot . . . ੭﹕when she smiled, the roses in her mouth leaned inward, thirsty for the blood behind her teeth. ۫ ׅ
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゛ 𓄳 . recent ◞ magic words : yandere benjamin poindexter. pretty teats : yandere akotsk men. rip my flesh : yandere dick grayson. pink bracelet : yandere benjamin poindexter. double suicide : yandere benjamin poindexter.
゛ 𓄳 . come find me at @vvvchu where I'm more personal.
I love his armour. I love his hair. I love his beard. I love the salt and pepper. I love his nose. I love his teeth. I love his eyes. I love the way he speaks. I love the way he tosses his head back like he has hair cascading down his back.
I LOVE EVERYTHING AND THEY TOOK HIM AWAY!
A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | S01E02 - “Seven".
[...]⠀⠀┄ ⠀ a lonely, socially isolated benjamin poindexter becomes unexpectedly fixated on a small pink bracelet worn by a kind barista. what begins as an awkward misunderstanding turns into the first genuinely warm interaction dex has had in years, when you gifts him the bracelet and treats him with a kindness he doesn't believe he deserves.
❝ including ⠀! ⠀benjamin poindexter. ◟ warnings ⠀! ⠀part 1 of series, fem reader, yandere dex, fbi dex, fluff maybe? masterlist, english is not my first language 𖹭⠀⠀❞⠀
The bracelet is pink.
That’s it.
That’s the whole fucking problem.
Not you.
Not your smile.
Not the way your voice sounds soft enough to make his chest ache.
The bracelet.
Pink stones around your wrist.
Small.
Glossy.
Translucent under the café lights like little pieces of skinned flesh dipped in sugar.
Dex notices it the second he walks in and then his brain clamps onto it so hard it feels physical. Like teeth sinking into tendon.
Great.
Fantastic.
Another thing to obsess over.
He should leave.
He knows he should leave.
The coffee shop is crowded and loud and smells like burnt espresso beans and wet jackets and somebody’s cloying perfume two tables over. Every sound crashes into him separately instead of blending together normally.
The espresso machine screams.
Silverware scrapes ceramic.
Somebody taps their nails against a laptop keyboard too fast.
A guy near the door keeps sniffling every twelve seconds exactly and Dex notices every single one.
Twelve seconds.
Sniff.
Twelve seconds.
Sniff.
His head already hurts.
He shouldn’t have come here.
Should’ve stayed home.
No. Home is worse.
Home breathes.
Home makes noises at night.
Not real noises. Just settling pipes and creaking walls and neighbors moving around upstairs but his brain stretches every sound open until it becomes something alive. The apartment feels like the inside of a body sometimes. Warm and airless and rotting slowly around him.
So he came here instead.
And now there’s you.
Pink bracelet.
His eyes drift toward it again immediately.
Fuck.
Stop staring.
He looks away.
One second later his eyes slide right back to your wrist.
Fuck.
You’re moving behind the counter, smiling at customers while steam curls around you in pale ghost shapes. The café lights catch against the bracelet every time you move your hand.
Pink.
Pink.
Pink.
His brain starts tracing the movement automatically.
Trajectory.
Distance.
Speed.
The beads hit against your wrist softly every time you reach for something.
Click-click-click.
His fingers twitch against his coffee cup.
Don’t stare.
He stares.
He tells himself he’ll stop after one more second.
Then another.
Then another.
It feels good.
That’s the embarrassing part.
The bracelet quiets something in his head for a second. The noise around him dulls whenever he focuses on it. Like his brain finally found one clean line in a room full of screaming static.
You laugh at something a customer says.
Dex’s eyes jerk upward automatically.
And there it is again.
That smile.
Jesus.
You smile like you don’t know what people are capable of.
Like nobody’s ever bled on your hands before.
His stomach twists strangely.
Look away before she notices.
Too late.
You’re already walking toward him.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Dex straightens immediately in his seat without meaning to. His spine locks rigid. He looks down at the coffee cup like maybe if he avoids eye contact hard enough you’ll leave.
“Do you need anything, sir?”
Too close.
Your voice is too close.
Warm.
Soft.
He can smell vanilla syrup on your clothes.
“No,” he says too quickly. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”
Weird.
Too fast.
You definitely noticed that.
Your eyes narrow slightly.
“Then why do you keep staring at me?”
There it is.
He fucked up.
Heat floods his neck instantly.
His grip tightens around the paper cup hard enough to bend it inward with a soft crunch.
Everybody heard that.
Now everybody’s looking.
Nobody is actually looking but it feels like they are. Feels like the entire café just turned toward him all at once.
Creep.
Weirdo.
Psycho.
His heartbeat starts slamming too hard.
Say something normal.
Normal people know how to do this.
“Well— I—”
Jesus Christ.
Spit it out.
Your expression shifts slightly.
Not angry.
Guarded.
Like you’re already preparing yourself to leave.
That feeling hits him somewhere ugly and soft inside his ribcage.
“No, it’s not—it’s not like that,” he says quickly.
Too quickly.
Now he sounds defensive.
Good job.
You made it worse.
“Then what is it?” you ask.
His thoughts jam together immediately.
Words never come out right when people are looking directly at him.
Too many things happening at once.
Your eyes.
Your voice.
The noise in the café.
The smell of coffee.
The bracelet.
Pink.
Focus.
“It’s just your bracelet,” he blurts out finally.
You blink.
“My bracelet?”
“Yeah.”
Too blunt.
He should explain more.
Why can’t he ever fucking explain things correctly?
“What about it?” you ask slowly.
He notices your shoulders tightening slightly.
You think he’s lying.
You think he’s dangerous.
Maybe he is.
The thought flashes through him fast and cold.
No.
Stop.
“It’s just…” His throat feels tight suddenly. “It’s a nice color.”
Silence.
God.
That sounded pathetic.
A grown man staring at a waitress because of a bracelet.
You’re definitely gonna walk away now.
Instead your eyes widen slightly.
“Oh.”
Color rushes into your cheeks almost immediately.
Dex stares before he can stop himself.
Pretty.
The thought arrives sharp and sudden.
Too pretty.
You let out this awkward little laugh and glance down at your wrist.
“Thanks,” you mumble. “It’s rose quartz.”
Rose quartz.
Rose quartz.
Rose quartz.
“What’s that?” he asks.
Your expression changes again.
The suspicion softens around the edges.
You touch the bracelet gently with your fingers.
“It’s a crystal,” you explain. “People say it attracts love.”
Love.
The word sits strangely inside his chest.
Heavy.
Wet.
Like an organ dropped into his hands.
His eyes flick unconsciously around the café.
Couples everywhere.
Hands touching.
People leaning close together.
Everybody connected together through invisible threads while he sits alone at a tiny corner table feeling like something stitched together wrong.
“My sister gave it to me because she said I was lonely,” you say with another embarrassed laugh.
Lonely?
You?
No.
That doesn’t make sense.
You move through rooms easily. People smile when you talk to them. Your voice sounds warm enough to crawl inside.
Lonely people are supposed to look like him.
Tired.
Sharp.
Held together too tightly.
“Does it work?” he asks quietly.
You blink at him.
His stomach twists immediately afterward.
Too serious.
Why did you say it like that?
Now she thinks you’re insane.
But you keep staring at him instead of leaving.
Your expression softens slowly.
Like fabric loosening.
And suddenly Dex feels exposed in a way he hates.
Because he thinks you can see it.
The emptiness.
The horrible starving thing inside him.
“It works if you believe in it,” you say gently.
Believe.
Dex almost laughs.
His brain feels like a mouth full of broken teeth chewing on itself half the time.
He doesn’t know how to believe in anything.
Then suddenly you step closer.
Too close.
His whole body locks immediately.
You reach for his hand.
Dex freezes so hard it almost hurts.
Warm fingers wrap around his wrist.
Fuck.
His pulse jumps violently beneath your touch.
He can feel every line of your skin against his. Every tiny shift of pressure. His nervous system lights up all at once like somebody peeled his skin off and exposed every nerve ending directly to air.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean you have to—”
“You can have it.”
You’re already sliding the bracelet off your wrist.
His brain stutters.
Wait.
Wait.
Your fingers brush against the inside of his wrist again while fastening it around him.
Pink beads against his skin.
Warm from your body heat.
“You need it more than me,” you say softly.
Need.
The word goes through him like a blade.
Need.
Need.
Need.
Something inside his chest moves suddenly.
Not metaphorically.
It genuinely feels like something waking up underneath his ribs. Something thin and starving uncurling slowly in the dark.
Because you noticed him.
That’s the horrifying part.
You looked at him and saw loneliness immediately.
And instead of recoiling—
you touched him.
Dex stares down at the bracelet silently.
His thoughts start looping instantly.
You touched him.
You gave it to him.
You said he need it.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Like film burning over itself inside his skull.
Then you step back suddenly.
“Oh my God,” you say quietly. “And I’m sorry for earlier.”
Your face goes pink again.
“We get a lot of creeps here sometimes.”
Creeps.
There it is.
Reality sliding back into place.
Dex feels his stomach knot painfully.
Because for one second there he almost forgot how he looked from the outside.
Strange man sitting alone.
Staring too hard.
Too intense.
Too quiet.
Wrong.
“I hope you understand,” you mumble awkwardly.
You actually look guilty.
That’s what gets him.
Not the accusation.
The guilt.
Because you care.
You genuinely care that you hurt his feelings.
Something in his chest pulls painfully tight.
Say something.
Say thank you.
Say it normal.
“Y-yeah,” he manages finally. “No, I understand.”
Too stiff.
Still weird.
You smile anyway.
Small.
Sweet.
Beautiful.
Tiny living thing fluttering through all the rot inside his head.
Then you walk away.
Dex watches you go because of course he does.
His eyes follow automatically.
Your hands.
Your shoulders.
The empty space on your wrist where the bracelet used to be.
No.
Not empty.
On him.
His fingers close around the pink stones carefully.
Pink.
Still warm.
Still carrying heat from your skin.
And suddenly the café doesn’t feel quite as loud anymore.
Not because the noise stopped.
But because now there’s something else inside his head too.
Your voice.
Your smile.
Your hands touching him gently like he wasn’t something dangerous.
Dex sits there long after his coffee goes cold.
And every few seconds his eyes drift back toward you again automatically.
Every time you laugh, his chest aches strangely.
And when you catch him looking again near the end of your shift—
you smile at him.
Actually smile.
Like you’re happy he’s still there.
The starving thing inside him opens its eyes completely after that.
