Limerence ❀ Yandere!Males x Reader

♢ True Ending | єтєяηïту

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You choose to do nothing
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A large stool slammed against the wall just bare millimeters away from her nose. (Y/n) recoiled at the impact and stumbled backward in shock as the wood exploded into a storm of deadly shrapnel.

It hadn't been meant for her—Leon had thrown it towards Tristan who, by a miraculous stroke of luck, managed to dodge it. But the move proved to be the last straw for his injured leg and he went down onto a knee, his expression the epitome of pain.

The black-haired male spared him no mercy. Before Tristan could get back to his feet, Leon delivered a harsh punch to his defined jaw with a sickening crack, throwing the other male to the ground, unconscious. Not that it would've mattered if he managed to stay awake—once you've been hit hard on the chin, it would be almost impossible for you to remain steady on your feet.

Leon looked like he was about to crush his skull with his feet but another sound drew his attention. It was Kieran who was in the middle of taunting the resident blond and blocking the glass shards he threw his way with a book. Very nice use of a book, Yeti man.

Leon's eyes flickered to hers before he did anything else. "Stay there," he growled, shooting her a sharp look. Then he was off, ripping the white-haired male away from the blond and slamming him into the wall. Surprise filled Kieran's face at the sudden action before his face morphed into a dark smirk. 

"Sorry we were late to the party, Leo-chan," he purred. "We had things to do. And by things, I mean me."

"You stupid 썅놈—"

"Kids shouldn't curse, Jay—Woah, easy on the face!"

Kieran angled his head sharply to the side to avoid the fist Leon sent flying into the hall beside his head. Irritation flashed in his golden orbs and his mischievous grin turned into a pissed off one. 

"Haven't you learned to not interrupt someone when they're talking? Obviously, a mutt like you never learned a single thing in school. Why do they even bother—"

"I'll f*cking rip your mouth off, you son of a b*tch!"

Kieran ripped Leon's hand off his collar with surprising strength before his face could be smashed in. He danced well out of the black-haired male's reach, careful to avoid tripping over Tristan's legs. "How rude of you to insult my mother. Gotta step up the insult game there."

"F*cking coward!"

Leon wasn't thinking as he let out all of his burning ire and swung his fist back, his thumb overlapping over his other tightly curled fingers, and into Kieran's chest. The white-haired male tried to turn to the side and let the blow roll off his shoulder to lessen the impact, but it was too late. Too fast, too potent. Even when he couldn't feel the pain that ensued, he knew there was going to be a dark bruise later.

Punching someone, especially when they weren't a bloated seal like many of the men his father sent after him, usually hurts. Leon remembered the first time he raised his hand towards someone. That someone was his father. He remembered the younger him, a scrawny boy with developing muscles and a wiry frame, who threw the first punch after a heated argument with the man. It had felt like thousands of iron-hot pokers were jabbing into his hands, leaving his knuckles a bloody mess.

But now, he's grown used to the sensation. It no longer hurt him when his fists found a mark to collide with. The tearing of the skin of his knuckles was his norm. Rarely would his hands be unscathed, always red with raw skin. Veins stood out starkly against his skin. Little scars—not the pretty crescent moon-shaped ones but the ugly, gnarled rips—littering his appendage like the poor work of an amateur tailor.