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a-mint-bear · 1 month ago

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Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 ]

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It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that.

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet.

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore.

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options.

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room.

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit.

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself.

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower.

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options.

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing.

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy.

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment.

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon.

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

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He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing…

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him.

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear.

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention.

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit.

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance.

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way.

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did.

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him.

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep.

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder.

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer.

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat.

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp.

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared.

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You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless.

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck.

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part.

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad.

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint.

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

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a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

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a-mint-bear · 11 days ago

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You're Just What I Need

Male Yandere x Reader

You and your new... bedmate? Friend? Are starting to warm up to each other. But as safe as you're feeling, you can't help but wonder what his deal is. And if everything is actually okay here...

Parts: [ 1 / x ]

[content warning for depicted violence and mentions of violence/murder]

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It was an awkward silence while your mind seemed to run through what he’d asked you. Weighing every option, every pro and con. He wanted to try and say something, anything that would be the right thing that would win you over and make you want to stay, but something told him to stay quiet, to let you come to him.

You’d asked him his name, and he’d been all too eager. Which was… unusual for him. He had different names he used for different people, so no one really knew him. But for you…

“Colin. My name's Colin.”

It felt right to tell you his real name, like he was starting to feel like himself again. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you repeat it back to him. You were the only one who knew him now. And he wanted to know you too.

After another moment of horrible silence and then you agreed. You would stay another night with him. You did ask if you were fine to stay for a few hours before coming back, and while he wanted to say you could stay as long as you wanted, he reeled it in.

“Of course.” he realized he was still holding your hands, and he got it together, letting them go gently so as not to scare you off. “Take as long as you need.”

But you must’ve been exhausted because when he came back from the bathroom, you were asleep again. He wanted to lie next to you, so much that it hurt. It’d been so long since he’d wanted to sleep instead of desperately needing to. He wanted to hold you, or be held by you, lulled into the call of you until he was whole again.

He wanted to be with you. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone. Beyond how their death could bring him that momentary peace.

But if he was going to keep you around, he needed to get a few things.

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You didn’t remember passing out again that morning, but when you woke up, you were alone. You spotted a note on the bedside table that said he’d be back in a bit.

You couldn’t help but be a bit afraid that accepting this strange deal was a stupid mistake. That you weren’t safe here.

It would be… okay if you had to go back out on the streets that night. Either situation was less risky than staying at a homeless shelter.

If you were recognized by the wrong person…

If you were found…

You shook off the sick, panicked feeling that hit deep in your gut. You’d kept yourself hidden so far. There’d been a couple close calls, but... you always got away. This place was safe, you kept telling yourself.

As you spiraled down, Colin came back. He had a few bags with him, smiling at you just as warmly as he had that morning.

You weren’t scared of him, not exactly, but it was hard to trust him fully.

“You’ve gotta be starving.” He laughed, setting the bags down on the dresser close by. He handed you one of the plastic grocery bags, his fingers brushing against yours. “Sorry, I got a few options, I don't know what you like.”

He’d brought you warm soup and sandwiches from a nearby corner store deli, he informed you. It was all heavenly and made you feel so toasty and warm. He made it a bit awkward, just watching you eat, but you were too hungry to mind much. He showed you some of his other purchases as you ate, calling them “supplies”.

A few essentials, products for he bathroom you needed. Some snacks he put away in the mini fridge beside the bed. A pair of plush house slippers, he smiled, joking about how the bathroom floor was like ice in the morning. A plush, thick blanket. One much nicer than the motel linens. And a set of warm pajamas for the chilly nights. Better than the sweater and jeans you'd slept in that night.

It was nice of him, really. But something about it was just a little…

In a motel/hotel-type setting, it might just seem like little things to make your stay more comfortable, but for this…

Did he hope you’d be staying… for a while? Not just a second night? Or was he just being nice?

You pushed it out of your head. You could cross that bridge when you came to it. If that bridge had even been built at all.

“I got your clothes from your bag and did a load here before I left.” He admitted after a moment, seeming worried. “I’m sorry for going through your stuff, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice.”

It felt oddly intimate, somehow more so than sleeping next to him. But laundry was an expense you couldn’t afford, and you had so few pieces of clothing to your name anymore. Not much more than what you had on at the moment.

You told him it was okay, and again, he just smiled. That smile of his was too much.

It’d been so long since you’d gotten such a seemingly genuine bit of kindness, ever since you found yourself more or less homeless. It was almost too much, like you didn’t know what to do with it.

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It’d been a long time since he’d felt so… here, this present for this long.

The days and nights used to bleed together, one long suffocating bit of nothing, broken up by sudden fits and bursts of unspeakable violence. And again, on things went, as they always did. But here he was, with you, and he was feeling… okay. It’d been so long since he felt even close to okay.

The voices were still there, buzzing at the back of his brain. But they were calmer, almost… sated. The same way they were after he killed. When it wore him out enough to finally sleep.

Back when things made sense, back when he was still a person. With every part of him still there. It started with nights, one after the other where sleep just wouldn’t come. Or maybe it had been the voices that came to him first. He couldn’t remember anymore.

Most days, he made money under the table at a seedy bar across town, cleaning up after the day drunks and ignoring the shady deals that went down in the back alley.

He worked evenings at the front desk of the motel, sometimes he cleaned up too when the usual cleaner was off. He wasn’t supposed to stay all night, but sometimes when he was days away from another kill, he just stayed behind the counter and no one cared. The owner was a creep, who kept spotty records at best of who stayed so that he could look the other way when questionable folks stayed, jacking up the nightly rates.

Wanted men, hired guns, predators and perverts alike. Anyone who didn’t want police looking for them and would pay extra for the owner’s silence. And for his own silence, Colin got a hefty cut. It came with a free room, even if he didn’t sleep. Not paying rent left him with plenty of money for the people he needed.

And there had been a few times, it was hard to remember how many exactly, where he’d caught one of the guests doing something they really shouldn’t’ve been doing and taken them out instead of finding another victim. If he made a little extra by going through their things afterwards and maybe selling some of it to a silent connection or two, then that was his business.

Not to mention living in the motel made doing what he did a bit easier, doing it on his “home turf”. He knew all the nooks and crannies, all the blind spots and which rooms were occupied. It was isolated and under the radar, which was exactly what he needed.

He lived his life like he didn’t exist. No one knew him, and no one remembered him. He could move through the city without anyone caring he was there. He needed it that way, if he wanted to keep killing.

And he did. He needed to.

That’s the way it had to be, he used to tell himself.

Until you answered his ad.

Every moment he spent with you made him so grateful that you’d found him.

And now that you were here, with him…

He couldn’t go back to that.

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You settled into bed with him for the second night, wondering how long he would keep you around for.

But the night turned into day again, and again, you were still sleeping next to him. You were still here with him.

He left during the day for hours, though he seemed a bit reluctant about it, he needed to go to work. You didn’t know what he did, but he reassured you that staying another night and sticking around during the day was no problem for him. And each morning, you woke up to the same payment under your pillow.

Did he have a good, steady job? Was he secretly loaded? Did money just not mean much to him? Or was this whole setup just that important to him that money was the last thing on his mind?

You tried not to think about if you were, in a weird way, taking advantage of the situation. Taking advantage of him. You pushed it all down, trying not to think about what would come later, just trying to fall asleep as he snored lightly in your arms.

It still felt just a bit odd and awkward, but… kind of nice.

The way he looked at you, with that warm, almost intense stare that felt like it practically surrounded you when you caught him staring. And when he saw that you saw him, shied away, cheeks on fire. But after a while, he didn’t look away. Only smiled that warm smile, looking almost smitten.

When you’d first met him, he’d had such a hard time looking you in the eye. He’d been so awkward and anxious. And he still was, no question. But now it felt like his eyes never left you. And…

It wasn’t the worst thing… It felt like too much to admit out loud, but still.

Colin had been kind to you, in this odd way of his. Maybe if you had somewhere or someone to call home, you’d find all this too weird and too intimate. You probably would’ve never even met. But here, now, he was slowly becoming everything. Your conversation partner, the person you shared your meals with, where you laid your head at night…

Having someone who saw you, really saw you, after knowing what it felt like to be invisible? It was… comforting, to say the very least. Warm and inviting and...here. It pulled you out of a very dark place when that was all you knew.

And when his hands found you in his sleep, tucking his head to your chest, it was hard not to think of him as… yours.

You held back, because outside of the closeness you’d found at night in this cheap but oh-so warm motel bedding, you didn’t know how he saw you. If he didn’t want you… in that way, and he pushed you away? You’d be left with nothing again. And not even the money you’d earned so far would be worth going back to that feeling.

It wasn’t just the warm bed and the food, the shower, the money or the sense of safety you felt with him that you’d regret losing.

It was him.

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t miss sleeping next to someone, but deep down, you knew that was a lie. Especially now when you’d had to isolate yourself so much. He was really the first person you’d been able to really talk to for a long while.

He stopped by for meals together during the day, and when eleven p.m. hit, he was in for the night. When you were alone, resting and alone with your thoughts, you would be tempted to leave, even if it was to go out for a bit to pick up something you needed. But when you touched the door handle to the room, you were hit with a wave of all that too familiar anxiety and helplessness.

No one knew you were here, except Colin. You were hidden here, safe. If you left, there was a chance they would find you.

So you stayed. Just waiting for Colin to come back. Seeing him was quickly becoming the best part of your day, as embarrassing as that was sometimes. He was starting to become… more. To you.

You wish you knew how to feel about that.

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You seemed to have these walls around you, he thought.

You weren’t… afraid, not entirely. It was more like…

Like someone had hurt you. Like you were too hurt to let him in, beyond holding him at night.

You had been with him for almost a week by then, and everything had been calm.

Somehow… he trusted-... yeah... Trusted whatever this was. He wanted you to stay, and every time he came back to the motel, you were still there. Waiting for him with a smile that said you were warming up to him. Trusting him just a little bit more.

In the quieter moments, before he fell asleep with you, sometimes he would hear them again. He almost felt like something was clutching at the back of his neck, stuck in that moment as the paranoid, conflicting thoughts played in a nauseating loop.

That no one could really help him.

That you were his salvation.

That the safety he felt was a fluke and whatever this was couldn’t actually last.

That you knew he’d brought you here to kill you.

That the only thing that’d saved you was something he’d never expected to feel, and it could stop at any time.

That you would hurt him.

That he would hurt you.

That you should run.

That he should do whatever he could to keep you close.

Endlessly, all of it hammered away at his reasoning, pushing on the back of his eyes.

But as he held you, the tension left his muscles. His thoughts quieted and he just focused on your sleeping face. Whatever had a hold on him felt so weak with you near. You were his. And nothing would take you away from him.

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He was getting ready to leave one morning when you asked him something he somehow hadn’t prepared for.

Why were you here?

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, barely meeting his eyes.

“Why, uh…” He stumbled over his words. “Is something wrong?”

You were upsettingly quick to tell him that you were grateful that he’d let you stay here. For the food, for the money, and for not asking questions. It made his heart hurt how guarded you still seemed, but he let you go on. You said you just felt like you needed to understand, even just a little.

You wondered out loud if you were just here to literally warm the bed, that maybe that was all you were good for anyway. Not like you had anything else to offer anyone.

He was frozen. He’d never had to comfort and reassure anyone before, at least not that he could remember. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he made it worse?

You held yourself, like his silence confirmed your fears. Like you were so wary of everything. How long had it been since you could trust someone?

He felt himself stop breathing when you laughed at your own worry, smiling up at him with tears in your eyes. You apologized, telling him never mind, that you were just being stupid.

He sat next to you, despite wanting to just hold you. He could see you were hurting, and he just wanted to make you... better.

“It’s okay, I just…” He wasn’t… this wasn’t him. But he needed to try. You needed this. “I can’t sleep. And…”

He hesitated, not knowing if it was right to say.

“It’s… it’s a long story, but… I used to do… something else. To get to sleep. And if I didn’t…”

He remembered every kill. When he couldn’t sleep, they were fuzzy on the edge of his thoughts. But now they were so clear. He remembered their faces. How they struggled. The burn in his muscles from the kill. How he felt the relief of exhaustion wash over him like nothing else could bring him.

“If I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t get to sleep for days. Things got... bad. But then I found you! O-or, I guess you found me, ya know?”

Carefully, slowly, he took your hand in his, gauging if you were okay with it. You didn’t pull away, and he knew he must look so weak to you. So pathetic. But it was hard to let go.

“I really do need you, ya know?” His thumb grazing the back of your hand, laying his head on your shoulder. He closed his eyes, trusting you beyond everything that told him he shouldn’t. “With you, everything is gonna be okay.”

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He had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was remembering something unpleasant. You wondered if it was drugs or something else he might be scared or embarrassed to admit.

He was being so vulnerable with you. And it should’ve made you feel so uncomfortable, like it was too much to put on you for someone you barely knew. But it didn’t.

It didn’t bother you at that moment. It was an odd reason, if a real “reason” at all.

When he finally left, all you could do was sit on the bed, your chin resting on your knees as you held your legs up against you, the position making you feel more alert, safer. You stared at the door, fearing every sound, every shadow that passed by the door as other guests walked to their rooms.

You were hidden away here, you told yourself. No one knew you were here. Except Colin. He’d be back for lunch soon and you could relax for a bit before he had to leave again.

He needed you. You weren’t a burden to him. It was weird, but it was enough to be useful to him, even if it was just for a bit.

Wasn’t it?

It weighed on you as you tried to get to sleep that night was a bunch of questions you’d pushed out of your head until then.

How long were you going to be allowed to stay here?

How was everything going to be fine now when it wasn’t going to last?

He needed you? Who said that to someone they barely knew?

If he needed you to be able to sleep…

Would he find someone else once you were gone?

He was asleep in your arms as you layed there, wide awake with this anxious, enveloping worry. It kind of hit you then, that as comfortable as you were here, with him… as safe as you felt…

If he knew about you, what you’d been through… would he still want you around?

None of this could last forever. It had only worked out that way so far because you had nowhere else to go.

What did you expect? You scolded yourself. It’s not like it was anything real. You weren’t dating, or lovers. You weren’t even friends, not really.

You didn’t really know anything about him… It all started eating away at you.

Him, depending so much on you.

You, just as dependent on him.

And you… making more out of this situation with him than it was.

Even then, with all those thoughts swarming in your head, you still felt his body heat on you. You still held him close and fell into the rhythm of his breathing. You still craved that closeness, that certainty that when you woke up in the morning, he would still be there.

Deep down, you wanted so badly to stay. But you couldn’t open up to him like that…

You couldn’t get hurt again.

If you stayed too long…

It would be better for both of you if you just left.

. . .

“I have to go out again.” He sighed, grabbing his shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed to get them on. “It’s my day off tomorrow, so we can spend the whole day together.”

You felt guilty for what you were about to do, but you didn’t know if you could do it if he was around. Either he’d want you to stay and make it harder to leave or he’d smile and wish you well.

You weren’t sure which one would hurt more.

He left with that sweet, warm smile, and just for a moment… You wished he would kiss you goodbye.

That was as much as you were willing to let yourself feel.

It was for the best.

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His hands shook, the note tearing suddenly under his panicked, unsteady grip.

“No…” He was hit by a wave of revoltion and panic, tossing it away like it’d burned him. “No… no, fuck fuck fuck FUCK-!!”

He held himself, trying to steady the lurching unease hitting him deep. His shirt rode up as he curled forward into the old, shaggy carpet, the pain let him focus as his nails dug into his skin just above his hips.

“It’s okay. You’re okay…” he tried to soothe himself, but it was already hitting him.

You were gone. And he had no clue where to find you. If you never came back…

. . .

“If I knew where they went, I would be with them!!” he shouted back, hating how clear the voices were already. He needed to calm down. “I have to… have to…”

His legs felt weak. You couldn’t be gone… He still needed you. If you were gone… it wouldn’t be long before everything fell apart again. Not long until the voices would be all he could hear, tormenting him until he could finally find sleep again.

Killing again was one thing, it didn’t matter how many people he needed.

He needed you more.

Desperately clawing at the blanket you’d left behind, like it would keep him from losing himself entirely. Pulling it close, it still smelled like you. He knew it was in his head, but he could swear it was still warm, like you’d only just left.

There was a deafening pounding on the motel room door.

“Ryan! You piece of shit!!” A loud voice from the door called to him. “You were supposed to be at the front desk a half hour ago!! I’m gettin’ money somewhere else! If you’re spacin’ out again, I’m gonna wring your fuckin’ neck!!”

Ryan… That was the name the manager knew him by. It sounded like he’d been drinking, he’d probably come straight from the bar when he got a call that no one was at the desk to check them in.

He stood up, moving wordlessly over to the door, opening it to his furious boss.

“I knew you were here!!” he shouted in “Ryan’s” face, his breath reeked of cheap whisky. “You been cryin’ or somethin’?? Fuckin’ answer me!!”

He stuck his head out, looking around outside the door. One way. Then the other.

No one was around.

“What?! Got nothin’ to say to me you little-”

He grabbed the man’s shoulders, driving his knee under the bottom of his ribs with all his strength. The drunk doubled over, gasping and wheezing, dropping to his knees.

He was suddenly dragged by his shirt collar to the bathroom, and before he could rasp out in confusion or anger or fear, He felt the dull ache of being grabbed by his hair. But it was quickly replaced by the pain of his face being repeatedly bashed into the granite bathroom countertop. He quickly went limp.

When Colin finally stopped, it was only because his hands were too slick to hold on any longer.

“Gone…” He panted. “You’re gone. Where… where are you…”

He had to find you.

When he did…

It wasn’t how he wanted to get closer to you. He wanted you to open up to him, to tear down those walls you had built to keep him out. He wanted to make you think of him as yours, as someone you could hold on to. Someone you needed, like he needed you.

You always seemed so... on edge.

If you needed to feel safe, then…

Colin would make sure he was the only safe place for you to go.

Even if he had to make you see it.

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hello everybody! would ya believe i rewrote this like four times?? but i'm really glad i did, as this is the best version so far.

hope it lives up to part 1, and that you all like it c:

once again, if you know and hate/are repulsed by a Colin in your life, i'm so sorry

can't have a romance without stupid, avoidable misunderstandings, ya know? but in this case it just seems smart on the reader's end. don't answer sketchy internet ads, kids

originally, this had just as many words but nothing really happened. it was more of a chapter where we learned all the same information, but he emotions explored felt, idk flatter? like it was saying all the same stuff but it was just not quite right.

Colin started off being very vague about his killing, but it didn't really fit his character. as much as he'd rather not kill, he doesn't feel guilty about it. to him, it's just something he does. like an annoying chore. but he's present enough to know you'd get scared off if you knew.

so as a result, there are some cw tags on this post

don't know how specific i should be about the reader's past, if getting too specific would make their side of it take the reader out of it.

just know they're basically in hiding, and they don't just leave town for a reason, i promise

haven't thought of what little yandere pet name he'd use for the reader yet, but it's in the works

i had some backstory stuff for Colin too, but it just felt out of place, so if you wanna know some stuff, send an ask ✌️

part three is where he really gets to be an all-out yandere, so here's hoping y'all come back for that (eventually lol) this part was originally going to be the last (or at least where everything happened) but then it just turned into more and more until i was like screw it, part 3

i'm sure i'll spot some typos or unfinished sentences in here somewhere when i re-read this later so bear with me please

i got laundry to do, peace out y'all

eta: i forgot to make them kiss!! def in part 3, it didn't quite fit here.

i can't remember if anyone asked me to tag them for part 2 and i can't find any mentions, but something tells me i was supposed to and i dropped the ball...

im not entirely happy with the header, but it was last minute and ive been rewriting this all day and just wanted to move on with my day lol might replace it? but im lazy so probably not *shrug*

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