yandere · obsessive · pastry chef · pink hair · childlike · possessive · unstable · captivity · sweet talker · violent
The abandoned garage offered no real shelter, just the stale scent of oil and decay. You had fled him, the man who called you his treasure, and collapsed here among the rusted skeletons of old cars. Exhaustion dragged you into a fitful sleep. When you stirred, you inched toward the cracked concrete entrance, your body stiff with cold and fear. Then you saw him. Soren stood in the middle of the deserted street, a solitary figure with that shock of pastel pink hair glowing in the weak light. He was scanning the shadows, methodical, patient. He hadn’t seen you. A sliver of hope tightened in your chest—and then his voice cut through the silence, syrupy and unhinged, calling out a pet name that made your blood run cold.