You should be mine | gentle yandere! x reader
"and it might sound kinda crazy but it feels like you already know, you should be-"
i’ve been obsessed with generic yandere fics lately but i always feel like there’s not enough stories where the yandere is obsessed but doesn’t hurt reader at all😭 so he’s ultra soft here and saves reader
tags: yandere behavior: Obsession, Stalking, Kidnapping , Slight manipulation (no harm done towards reader), mentions of abusive household, fluff and comfort, loong slow burn, implied hitman!yandere but no graphic depictions, sugar daddy behavior, multi-pov
word count: 3.7k
His schedule was simple. He worked as a cashier when he wasn't otherwise disposed, and he was used to the bare-bones interactions it entailed. Just enough to feel like he wasn't entirely cut off from society while staying at an arm's length. It was a dreary life, but he didn't care for much else. That was all he needed. That was until you came through, practically flooding the place with warmth and light.
It was storming, ironically, on the day you came into his life. You'd ducked under your jacket as you raced inside, almost slipping on the linoleum. His eyes were drawn to you as soon as you passed his station, and much to his surprise, you met his gaze. "It's raining cats and dogs out there!" you grinned at him, wiping away the stray droplets on your sleeve. His mouth went dry as he nodded, at a loss for words. He was supposed to be offering a complimentary greeting, yet he was left blinking and stunned.
You paused to wipe your feet so courteously on the mat by the door before approaching his station. "Are you having a good day?" you questioned as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Suddenly, he wouldn't mind hearing you ask that every day of his life. He nodded again, cursing himself for how uninterested he probably seemed, but how could he possibly find the words to describe his heart beating for the first time? You moved away just as quickly, busy with shopping, but his mind stayed on you.
The feelings that flooded him were overwhelming and even contradictory: he wanted to drain the rain right out of the sky for daring to soak you, yet he envied it something fierce for roaming your skin. Maybe it was your kind smile that made him fall first, the faint smell of your perfume in the air, or just that you spoke to him. He abandoned his station; he needed to see you.
Even rain-soaked and casual-clad, you were the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen. You were a beam of light, smiling to every person you saw. Selfish as it may be, he wanted to keep that smile for his own. It was maddening to even think of you walking out like any other customer and your world returning to dullness. He couldn't let that happen.
As you made your way back to the front of the store, he slid back into place at his cashier station, twiddling his thumbs as if he'd merely taken a break. He peeked from the corner of his eye at your whereabouts, heart hammering in his chest. As you approached, his head swam, worried that you'd seen him, but his stupor was broken by your voice flitting through the air. "Hi again," you kindly said, smiling and placing your items on the belt.
He swallowed hard, willing away the nerves. "Hi," he breathed out, hands stagnant in his lap. The usual numbers in his brain for ideal times and customer satisfaction went in one ear and out the other in favour of staring at you. "Did you find everything alright?" he stammered, flushed. He hoped you did; what he really wanted to say was that if you didn't, he'd go to every store in the state to find what you needed. That was a little much, though.
You hummed affirmatively, those twinkling eyes still on him as you smiled so sweetly. He wanted to memorise that expression; he'd tattoo it on the insides of his eyes if he could. He was so enthralled, in fact, that he hardly realised he hadn't scanned a single item, but you didn't seem to notice either, so patient too.
He returned to quickness to scan your items, lips curling into a frown as the total rose. Such a darling thing shouldn't have to worry about paying for anything, but he could hardly offer to pay for it as the cashier. He paused before reading the total, instead putting on a shocked expression. "It says here that you're our millionth customer! Y-you get these for free," he stammered over his words, fearing either you or one of his coworkers would see right through the lie.
Your eyes lit up at his words, and his heart wrenched at the sight of your joy. "That's lovely!" you chimed, none the wiser. He discreetly took out his own card, covering the fee. The fact that he was able to make you smile made warmth bloom in his chest. He wanted to be the one always making you smile; he needed it. As the receipt tutted out, his heart rate went up with it; this couldn't be the end. His mind raced, thinking of an excuse.
"Do you need help bringing these to your car?" The words came out rushed and laboured, his eyes still wide. You giggled as you hefted the bag over your shoulder, shaking your head. He could listen to your giggle forever, but the words that came next sealed his fate. "You're sweet," even as you shook your head; the words were like a physical arrow pointing into his heart. You thought he was sweet. "I walked here, though." Plans foiled.
He gave an almost dazed nod, heart clenching at the thought of you carrying home the few bags all by yourself. He almost kidded himself thinking of convincing you the store had a delivery programme, but he'd already pushed the limits. "Ah, of course. Have a safe trip," he smiled, even as it pained him.
"You too!" you grinned, and just like that you were walking out the door. He didn't even know so much as your name, but he knew he needed you more than breathing. The rest of the workday became trivial in his mind; he needed to see where you'd go after this. He put on a staggering gait as he approached his boss's door. "I've got to take the rest of the day off, I'm—" He cut himself off with a convincing retch, clutching his stomach. His boss was quick to nod, shooing him away before he made a mess on the floors.
As soon as he left the room, his eyes darted around near frantically. Already it felt like drowning to not have you in his sights. He rushed outside, letting out a sigh of relief at the fact that the rain had settled and you were walking not too far ahead. He just wanted to make sure you got back safe, that's all. As he trailed behind, he reasoned with himself that he was doing a good deed, following up with a customer.
That afternoon was the first of many. He made a habit out of following your every move, waking up early to walk with you wherever you went (albeit a few feet behind). He didn't even bother going back to work; he took his night jobs still, but the days were for you. It made his day to see you so happy, even though he wasn't the one causing it. In a way he lived vicariously through watching, imagining if the two of you walked hand in hand. After two days of following, he found out your name from a discarded coffee shop cup. Y/N. It was like music to his ears.
It felt almost silly to grow to love someone he’d only spoken to once, but every time he saw you, it just furthered his conviction that you were meant to be. He tried to ignore it, but you ignited something deep in his heart, something so primal he had no choice but to act. He fancied himself a protector of sorts, getting rid of anything that could harm you. The definition of 'harm' was slightly loose, but nobody who bothered you at all would last.
He never dared to approach, but he began to look forward to seeing you every day. It was basically like dating, only you were far away for most of it. Once he started viewing it like that, well, of course he had to take pictures of his girlfriend. He was too respectful to peep in through your window, but he wasn't above photographing you from afar in public. He needed more than his thoughts to tide him over when he finally went home. The house never seemed empty before, but now it was only intensified by the fact that you weren't there.
You'd never even been in his home, but you haunted the halls like a ghost, every area lacking the light you'd bring. Once he spotted what perfume you bought, he'd spray it all around so he could pretend you'd just been there and would come back any moment. Over time, he started decorating it like you were going to live there. When he followed you through stores, he'd pick up every item that you wanted but had to put back. He stocked the shelves with the foods you bought, fantasising about cooking them with you. He even had renovations done to match the housing magazines you flipped through; the place was a physical love letter to you.
When it had gotten to be months, his once barren house was bursting with colour, decorated just for you. Only he wasn't sure when he'd bring you home. He hadn't even worked up the nerve to talk to you again, but it was all in due time. That was what he told himself, anyway. He often considered how he'd do it, what he'd say. It would be lovely if it were some big romantic moment; you deserved as much. The only problem seemed to be his courage.
He lamented these thoughts as he walked far behind you, making sure you got home safe. Even though he craved the feeling of holding you tight, it was just as fulfilling to be your protector. He let out a sigh of relief as you stepped into your house, safe and sound another night. Nothing had happened any night, but wasn't it a good thing he was there anyway? He turned to leave, satisfied with the day, until suddenly he heard shouting.
His blood ran cold. He turned back around with a quickness, hoping the noises weren't coming from your house, but your own raised voice followed. Somebody dared to insult his beloved. He'd never followed you all the way home, not wanting to intrude on your most personal space when he'd already taken so much, but now he was cursing himself for not listening in sooner. His heart hammered in his chest as he crouched in the bushes, wincing at the back-and-forth argument. How foolish he felt for spending so long being proud about keeping you safe on the streets when the real trouble was in your very home.
He'd sworn to only use his training for work assignments, but this was a special case. Fate had thrust him into the perfect position, and he had to save you. The door swung open, and he caught a glimpse of you in a condition he never wanted to see. Your face contorted in distress as tears streamed down your cheeks, movements hasty. His hands shook with the force of not taking you into his arms right then and there, but he hunkered down out of view. For once, he didn't follow, even as you stormed off down the street. He had something far more pressing at hand.
You arrived back home hours later after walking off the steam. You were so tired that you went straight to bed, assuming everyone else had done the same. From your closet, he held his breath, peering out from the slight gap in the door. He'd handled everything; now he just waited for you to fall asleep so he could take you home. It was almost overwhelming being surrounded by your scent, your clothes hanging around his head, and having you just a few feet away. He'd have to get used to the feeling, but for now it was new and euphoric.
He waited for what felt like hours, not wanting to ruin it by scaring you. Eventually, soft snores flew from under the blankets, and he knew it was safe to come out. You looked so peaceful sleeping, much nicer than that sadness from earlier. As he leant down next to you, he vowed you'd never shed another tear, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead. It was time to go home.
You woke up groggy, wiping sleep from your eyes. A long yawn escaped your lips as you stretched. Like every morning, you opened the blinds to let some light in, but this time you almost fell off the bed in shock. Instead of the usual suburban neighbourhood view, there were rolling valleys of green grass, with the forest encroaching at the edges. You rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming, yet you felt more awake than ever. You walked curiously around the room; it was 'your room' in the sense that it had all your things more or less where you left them. Yet it was in a different room. In a different place.
Before you had time to further think, the door creaked open. You froze in place, and the man behind the door looked just as shocked. His hulking form would almost be intimidating if not for the fact that he was wearing an apron and carrying a tray of breakfast. He entered slowly, practically tiptoeing the perimeter to give you as much space as possible. Each movement almost cartoonishly slow, he gingerly placed the plate on the bed before retreating to standing in the doorway.
"I made your favourite," he stammered, gesturing to the plate. Admittedly, it was your favourite, but his nonchalance made it feel like you'd woken up in an alternate universe. "I figured you'd be hungry." You didn't know how to react, still looking almost dumbfounded around the room. He just stood patiently in the door, his gaze fonder than anybody had ever looked at you. It still didn't explain where you were, though.
"Where am I?" you murmured, just before a whisper. His brows furrowed as he cooed at you, still smiling softly. "You're home, sweetheart. Is your room different from how you wanted it?" He gazed around the room with a watchful eye, genuinely appraising as if the furniture were the issue. When your expression stayed perplexed, he snapped his fingers, like it'd somehow slipped his mind.
"Silly me," he laughed. "This is your new home; I saved you," he reiterated, voice soft. His gaze never left yours as he spoke. "You don't know me, but, Y/N, I love you more than words can describe. You're my entire world. When I realised you weren't being appreciated where you lived before, I had to fix it," he began rambling, his hands flexing around nothing, before shaking it off and returning to gentility. "You're safe here." He nodded, hands stuffed into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for you. "You'll always be safe with me."
Objectively, this was a scary situation, but everything about him made it hard to be scared. He'd taken the time to fully re-create your room and make breakfast; you hardly thought the average ransom kidnapper would go that far. Before you could react, he was gingerly stepping out the door. "I know it'll take time to get used to things," he said, shaking his head. "I'll let you eat your breakfast...I'll be in the living room if you need anything." He stopped to get one last glance at you, face flushed and expression near giddy, before he closed the door.
Still shocked, you practically fell back into the bed, head swimming. You almost felt crazy for considering that this was a better deal than where you were before. It seemed a foreign concept to be safe and completely cared for. Your heart swelled as you fully took in the plate he left behind, each item cut into fun shapes and arranged in a little scene. Maybe it was your inner child that yearned for things like that or the hunger pawing at your stomach, but you ate them up.
Afterwards, though, you didn't quite know what to do. A part of you was curious about your...saviour? kidnapper? You weren't quite sure how to refer to him. He'd stayed in the living room, though, waiting for you to come out. You decided to get dressed at least, striding over to open the closet. Your jaw practically hit the ground as you opened it; one side was filled with all the clothes you already owned, but the other was your dream closet. You were incredulous as you entered, thumbing through all the clothes you'd circled in magazines or saved on Pinterest, now hanging in front of you.
It was like running through a luxury mall specified for you, and you had to wonder how big this house was. An entire wardrobe surrounded you, from pajamas to evening wear. Considering you didn't have any plans, though, you settled on some casual day clothes. Gazing at the mirrored wall, you couldn't help but smile. Not to say you could be bought, but you didn't have to twist your arm to appreciate a safe house and expanded wardrobe.
As you exited the closet, you found the discarded breakfast tray had been cleaned off. The only evidence of someone entering being the bottled water that sat on the tray now, accompanied by a single flower, one of your favourites. You tucked it behind your ear, letting your hair frame the petals. He'd thought of everything and hadn't even demanded anything from you but to relax.
Taking a breath, you finally took the courage to open the door. It wasn't even locked, opening right out into a hallway. The walls were painted your favourite colour, with ornate frames showcasing photos of you. Mostly printed out from social media, but some from far away with a zoomed-in lens. You couldn't help but stop in your tracks to stare at the photos you'd never seen. The way he photographed you wasn't voyeuristic; it was quite the opposite. Each photo had you bathed in light right in the centre, whether it was caught in a laugh or with a nose in a book. It was like seeing yourself through somebody else's eyes for the first time, and his gaze was so loving.
Your hand trailed over the carefully hung glass frames as you made your way to the living room, following the light sound of music. He sat on the couch, nestled between the cushions with a book in his lap. The moment you walked in, though, his eyes lit up, face softening. "Hi, darling...You look beautiful," he sighed out before correcting himself. "Do you need anything? More water? Different clothes?" He inched to the edge of the couch, leg tapping as if he wanted nothing more than to do whatever you asked.
"I just wanted to say thank you... for all of this," you stammered, almost unable to meet his gaze. It felt foolish to be nervous when it was already clear you could do nothing to sway him, but nonetheless he was handsome. He did a double-take at your words, breaking into a grin.
"Oh, you're so welcome, baby. I'm glad you like it." He ran a hand through his hair, seemingly incredulous that you were talking to him at all. You stepped further into the living room, finally taking a proper look around. It was like a fantasy come to life, the entire thing ripped out of the pages of your favourite magazines. He watched with prideful eyes as you looked around, hungrily drinking in your expression. "This entire place is made for you, every detail," he proudly proclaimed, gesturing around.
"Can I give you the tour?" he questioned with hopeful eyes, bouncing in his seat. As soon as you nodded, he eagerly stood, turning with a flourish to the living room. "You've already seen this much, but there's a lot more," he grinned, pulling back a curtain. He took you through all the winding halls of the manor, still staying at an arm's length while devoutly describing each detail. There was a room for each one of your interests, big or small. Even hobbies you'd only touched for a day, the facilities were there if you ever wanted to take them up again.
Throughout the walk, you felt like you got to know him a little more. He regarded anything related to you with reverence, and it was sweet in a way. He was more than anything just nervous about scaring you off, taking his time to not overcrowd you or make any sudden movements. His eyes never left you, though; so warm and fond, like this was the happiest day of his life. The thought was crazy, but as he stayed away, you sort of wanted him closer.
He noticed you warming up to him. Of course he did. It took everything in him not to leap with joy as you walked with him through the halls of your shared home. He knew you'd be grateful for all he'd done; your smarts were what he liked most about you. Now it was only a matter of time until you'd love him back, sit with him on the couch, or maybe even lie next to him at night. His face flushed as he guided you, his mind clouded with the ideas. After months of watching you from afar, he finally had you all to himself. It was almost too much to handle.
"Do you really like the place?" he softly questioned as the two of you came back to the main room. He nearly held his breath waiting for your reaction. You turned to him with a smile, and his heart soared because he was able to make you so happy like he always wanted. "I do," you nodded, your voice small but dripping with sincerity and laden with meaning. You liked the house; you liked him. He could pass out. Hell, he could pass away, it'd all be worth it now. Although if he did that, he wouldn't be able to pursue more with you.
Your relationship was only just beginning.
