#ill only accept tsuns if you can turn em yandere

[yanchive]

Tsundere turned Yandere?

Listen, I reaaallly don't like tsunderes, I find the concept to be annoying, having someone essentially treat you like shit because they can't grow a pair and accept their feelings for you.

But, the concept of a tsun going yandere sounds pretty interesting.

Surely, after dealing with so many snarky comments and polarizing experiences, not knowing if they genuinely enjoy your presence/friendship or if their just tolerating you because you two share an overlapping social circle. There's only so much you can take recieving gifts from them only for them to turn around act like it was burden to go all the way to the store to buy you it even though you never asked. Like, who does that? Gets mad at YOU for giving YOU gifts...?

It makes you stressed. The contradiction of verbal abuse and caring, affectionate actions leave you confused and annoyed. Eventually, the only right thing to do for your sanity is drop them as a friend. Yeah, you'd probably have to drop the other couple friends that are part of each of your social circle, but if it meant not being overwhelmed with gifts, affection, and berating comments, then so be it.

You break the news to them after another encounter. They had called you stupid for being cold one day(it was the middle of winter, why tf wouldn't you be cold!?). They began dragging you to the nearest café for a cup of hot chocolate, but you pulled away and confessed how your feeling. You wanted to do it as cordial as possible, but that uneeded insult had you being a little harsher than you liked it to be.

To be honest, it made you feel bad for a second, when you saw their resting bitch face melt away, their eyes going wide as they flinched away from you when you raised your voice. A look crossed their face that you couldn't quite discern, but you can tell it fell under the line of surprise and sadness. Heartbreak, maybe? But why would they be heartbroken? They've been nothing but a pain in the ass to you.

You fled before they could shake themselves from their shock and respond. They called after you, but you can tell by their fading calls, they were not following after you.

You blocked them on everything, and explained the situation to your friends before leaving all groupchats that had the little brat in them, and took the week off to settle your nerves and hide away. Not because you thought anything bad would happen, but just to hope whatever possible attempts at contact would wash over when they'll eventually(hopefully) give up. You knew a few times you got them coming to your door, but you never bothered to respond.

Once the week ended, and you decided to enter back into society, the first few days went by smoothly. Only to be awoken one morning to barrage of texts and missed phone calls from an unknown number.

The texts started off tame. A wave of apologies and begs of forgiveness. Confessions of love and compliments, telling you how they never meant to hurt you. How they were terrified of you finding out they were in love. The fear of rejection was so bad that they completely overlooked how their actions would affect you. It got more and more incoherent and unhinged until it was nothing but a massive load of photos taken of you throughout the past few days. Distant photos. You're in a grocery store in the first few photos. Going down multiple aisles. You're getting milk and eggs in one, chips and soda in another, deodorant, and body wash in these one. At the checkout lane in the last.

You're at a gas station in the next. Someone was taken the photos from within their car. You're stepping out of your own. Heading into the station. They're zoomed into the window, getting your blurry silhouette at the register. And dozens of you just standing at the pump filling your car.

They have you at your workplace, on a walk, at a restaurant, and a coffee shop. They put little quips of how amazing you looked in the photos, how you made them feel. They talked about wanting to snap the neck of the waiter who took your order when they made you laugh.

Voicemails were them alternating from having straight up mental breakdowns, sobbing uncontrollably as they tried to plead for forgiveness between each gasp of air. Others were just straight rambles, detailing their stalking and reiterating the same affectionate compliments found in the texts. They went on about how they dream of dates with you, how your wedding would look. It was such a 180 from how they used to be. Did that one argument seriously have them snap this bad?

You told them off before blocking their number, attempting to continue your day, albeit so much more paranoid that you liked it to be.

It was terrifying. No matter how much you looked over your shoulder, studied every single person in your vicinity, and tried to blend yourself in the crowds, you could never catch a glimpse of their face, nor shake the unnerving feeling of eyes burning into your body.

Gifts would start showing up at your doorsteps and workplace. Almost every day you were continuously blocking new numbers to try and get them to stop sending you messages and photos of you with no such luck.

You were at your wits end. None of your friends could help. Hell, several of them just seemed to disappear. They just quit contacting you. Police were only minor help, actually taking it a little bit seriously until they came back and told you they talked to your alleged stalker and determined it couldn't possibly be them and that you should contact them when this alleged stalker began getting aggressive. (Hello?? You have voicemails of their fucking voice what do you mean its not them!? You knew this town was shit...)

Though, one good thing came out of contacting the police. It seemed to have scared them enough to halt their harassment. All phone calls and texts came to an end. No more gifts. You could finally breathe.

This continued for a couple weeks. Life returned back to normal. So normal, in fact, that you finally felt safe enough to attend a bar party with a few coworkers one night, just to celebrate what you thought was your new found freedom.

Its just... such a coincidence you weren't the only one invited. Not that you knew. No, not until the next morning after a horrendous hangover. A hangover you weren't expecting. You had one drink, didn't you? Why does it feel so much worse than a hangover? And why can't you move your body? When did you have so many photos of yourself in your room?

And why is their a familiar face looking down at you with that unsettling grin?