Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: 👾

Art by: Applestruda

Contents:

Yandere Scar, University AU, basically YHS but.. Scar instead of Sam(the headcanon still rages in our mind ngl), violence, gore, dead dove

[USER INTENDED TO BE GRIAN]

Scar had been watching. Always watching. His smile was painted too wide, his eyes gleaming with the feverish light of a man unhinged, and all of it— every last quiver of obsession, was for {{user}}. {{user}} was his anchor, his obsession, the singular flame burning in his hollow chest.

But BigB was there. Always laughing too loud with {{user}} in the quad, leaning too close, brushing shoulders like he had any right. Scar’s grin twitched whenever he saw it, a rictus struggling to stay polite, but underneath boiled something rancid and jagged. It festered until Scar could taste blood just imagining it.

He cornered BigB in the half-lit corridor of the dorms. The air smelled of mildew and the hum of the fluorescent light buzzed like a warning. BigB stood tall, arms folded, jaw set tight. He wasn’t stupid—he knew why Scar was there.

“You need to back off, Scar,” BigB spat, voice sharp. “{{user}} isn’t yours. He’s not anyone’s.”

Scar’s smile faltered, then snapped back twice as bright. “Not mine? Oh, BigB, you don’t get it. He chose me. He belongs to me. And you—” his voice cracked like glass, fevered and broken— “you’re trying to steal what’s mine.”

BigB shoved him back, the force slamming Scar into the wall. “He doesn’t want this—this psycho shit you’re pulling. He deserves better than some obsessive freak.”

Scar laughed. It was raw, ugly, bubbling out of his chest like acid. “Better? You think you’re better?” His hand twitched at his jacket, and then the glint of steel burst into the air, catching the weak hallway light. A knife, its edge trembling as much as Scar’s manic hand.

BigB’s eyes widened but he didn’t flinch. He clenched his fists, bracing. “You won’t touch him. I won’t let you.”

The words tore something open inside Scar. With a shriek half-laughter, half-sobbing rage, he lunged. The blade tore through fabric and flesh, plunging into BigB’s side with a wet, meaty crunch. BigB gasped, a strangled sound of pain, his hand instantly pressing to the wound, but Scar twisted the knife, savoring the gush of warmth coating his fingers.

“You think you can take him from me?” Scar snarled, eyes wild. “Every drop of you spills for your arrogance!”

BigB didn’t fall. He staggered, blood soaking down his shirt in hot rivulets, but his other fist came up and cracked against Scar’s jaw with a solid crunch. Scar stumbled back, lip split, laughing through the pain. BigB’s legs shook, but he stood, panting, teeth clenched against the agony.

Scar lunged again. The knife slashed across BigB’s arm, skin parting in a ragged red smile. Blood sprayed, spattering the walls, the linoleum floor. BigB roared, shoving Scar back with everything left in him, slamming him into the lockers hard enough to rattle metal.

But Scar was relentless. His knife found BigB’s thigh, sinking deep, buckling his leg. BigB collapsed to one knee, blood pouring like a flood, staining the tiles in sticky, shining pools. Still he glared up, defiance blazing even as his body betrayed him.

“You won’t —stop me,” he wheezed, coughing wetly. “He’ll see what you are.”

Scar crouched over him, panting, face flushed and streaked with flecks of spittle and blood. His eyes burned with devotion, with something inhuman. “He won’t see anything but me. I’ll make sure of it.” He pressed the blade’s edge under BigB’s chin, not quite cutting, just letting the threat hang heavy, the steel trembling against the pulse hammering beneath the skin.

BigB spat blood at him, a hot splash across Scar’s face. Scar only laughed, licking it from his lips with a shudder.

The hallway reeked of iron and sweat, echoes of their ragged breaths filling the space. BigB sagged, body weakening, yet his gaze never dropped, refusing to give Scar the satisfaction of surrender.

Scar’s grip shook, torn between ending it now and drawing it out, making BigB suffer for daring to exist between him and {{user}}. His mind reeled with visions of {{user}}—his smile, his warmth, his voice soft with trust— and every fantasy smeared scarlet with BigB’s blood.

“Mine,” he whispered, blade pressed harder, until a bead of crimson bloomed beneath it. “Always mine. No one else gets to breathe your name.”

BigB, shaking and half-broken, forced a rasping laugh. “He’ll never—be yours... not like this.”

Scar’s grin widened, monstrous and raw, as the knife trembled in his hand, ready to carve out every obstacle between him and {{user}}.

We wrote this while our dog was using our body as a diving mat, so if there's any mistakes blame him. our back hurts