Okay but a darling who tries their hardest to "fix" and train their yandere. They put up with every bloody, obsessive shenanigan in the hopes that they can have a semi-regular relationship with the person they thought they were dating. You see, everything was fine the first month of the honeymoon phase-- regular cute dates and normal presents like bouquets and nicknacks-- even if they were overly frequent. It didn't take long for Yandere's true colors to show, possessiveness chaining Darling to their home and rushes in relationship milestones that normally take years to achieve.
By the third month, Darling has moved into their Yandere's home. Sure, it's fast, but how else are they going to alter a bloodthirsty stalkers' bad habits? But Darling didn't realize how much of a chore it would be to handle their Yan 24/7. Other than the constant reassurances of love and physical affection, they have to talk them down from murdering any coworkers or adding a military-grade security system to the home in an event of Darling trying to escape break up with them.
"I promise, I'm not going anywhere."
" I love you, there's no one else, how could you accuse me of that!"
Even with Darling complying continuously, wearing the ankle bracelet their Yan begs them to keep on, not leaving (or atleast, not telling Yan when they do) the house without their loving spouse-- Yandere still has paranoid visions, imagining footsteps at night, clothes that belong to them that they think are from another. But Darling is persistent, denying any sort of sneaking around and consoling their Yan in the process. I mean, who could sneak around when all they do is think of and take care of someone else continuously? And even when Yandere gets threatening, drugging takeout that was supposed to be a fun surprise and keeping Darling in the basement for a week, Darling always waits patiently for them to come back to their senses, to negotiate and bribe their way back out when Yan brings meals and requests cuddle time.
Maybe once or twice they've worried about being murdered, but they know their Yandere just loves too much, has too much affection for them to rationally contain. So they see the beast as tameable, talking them down off ledge after ledge, never bolting even with open doors and free feet. But will that be enough to convince their Yandere, to satiate their fear of abandonement and desire to trap before their prey can even think of escaping?
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this is loosely based off of @emmyrosee 's messing with sukuna post bc i just love the idea of messing with your whiny baby dramatic boyfriend and i immediately thought about katsuki ! if you want this taken down lmk !
katsuki is hilarious to mess with.
you've only been staring at him for about 5 seconds when he turns to you.
"whaddya want ?" he asks with a raised brow. you're still all smiles, resting your head into your palm
"nothing." you hum, he grumbles a bit but doesn't pay it any mind. until you keep staring. he's trying to focus on his phone but you can tell he's about to snap when he starts squinting at the device.
"what ?" he grumbles, red eyes narrow at your smile widening.
"nothing !"
"yn. don't fuck with me."
"i'm not !" you giggle " i'm just looking at you, am i not allowed to ?"
you know exactly what to say to fluster him without fail every time, it's something you're most proud of when you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink.
"..no."
you snort "no ?"
"shaddup." he says through gritted teeth "so what, you're just lookin' at me ?"
"yeah." you shrug "i like lookin' at my pretty boyfriend." you prop your head against the couch and sigh dreamingly to sell the lovesick act. katsuki inhales through his nose, chest puffing like he's upset and he tsks, ears and cheeks beet red.
"weirdo." he scoffs, then grabs the back of your head to pull you in and press his lips to yours roughly.
you're both breathing heavy when you pull away. he looks at you, mouth slightly agape as he heaves lightly, eyeing you from your eyes to your lips. and then he huffs through his nose like a bull and roughly pulls you into in chest, causing you to release an 'oomph !' at the force when he flops down onto the couch, pulling you with him.
"m'not pretty." he mocks your voice and you huff a laugh into his collarbone. you wiggle around and your boyfriend loosens his hold a bit so you can look up at him.
"you so are !" you argue, he won't look at you but narrows his eyes at the tv he'd turned to to distract himself from your gaze.
"nah, that's you, babe." he switches through the channels "thought you said i was handsome last week."
"you can be pretty and handsome at the same time, the proof is right in front of me." you flirt, he looks at your from the corner of his eye and his mouth curls up like he smelled something nasty when you wink at him.
"gross."
"you're blushing~" you sing, closing your eyes and laying your head onto his chest, you sigh happily when he starts rubbing up and down your back instinctively.
"go to sleep. m'tired of listening to you." he pushes your head down into his chest jokingly and you giggle. you can't see the smirk growing on his face from where your being shoved into.
you wrestle out of his hold to look at him to see he's already staring at you, half smirk on his face and he scoffs at your expression, you huff through your nose and your smile widens.
"you love me." you whisper knowingly, katsuki takes the hand off of your back to pinch at your side and he snorts when you squeal.
"unfortunately."
you yelp when he wets his lips and he captures yours in a sloppy wet kiss.
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grow on me like a dog loved fondly: prologue | kamo choso
wc: 1.0k
summary: your regular to the flower shop is more than what he seems.
contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, animal shelter employee choso x flower shop owner reader, implied that reader is shorter than choso, flowers, small talk.
a/n: the promised choso drabble! depending on how this is received, i intend for this to be the prologue to a longer choso fic i have in mind!
You have a regular on the weekends.
Business in the flower shop tends to be slow during winter, with less occasions having the need for flowers and even less buds blooming during the season.
But even with the expected decline in customers, Saturdays always guarantee one—
The bells attached to the store doors jingle, allowing in a gust of cool air that tickles your cheeks from where you’re crouched down. The peonies in your hands were delivered just yesterday, the ends of the stems needing a slight trim to keep them fresh for longer.
You turn, standing up to face your visitor. A purple scarf is wrapped high around his neck, with white fleece running down the length of his arms—a sort of undershirt to the short-sleeved uniform worn atop it. The outfit is familiar enough, but what truly distinguishes him are the two spiky pigtails on the sides of his head.
There are a few things you’ve managed to pick up from four-line exchanges with your regular (six if you’re lucky): 1) he works at the animal shelter a few streets away, 2) the flowers he buys are for the front desk, a weekly replacement he deems necessary to keep the place looking alive, and 3) who he is, his name—
—‘Choso’, if the tag on his uniform says anything.
The tag that is now, also, just a hand’s reach away from you.
You look up, pocketing your plant nippers. The peonies dangle between your fingers.
“W-welcome!” you stutter, focusing on the thin metal chain running across his nose.
It’s new, an addition that intrigues you more about the man in front of you.
The look he gives you is lazy, gaze deadpan, almost empty. Anyone else might find it snobbish and off-putting, but you’ve gotten used to it—an almost magenta puffiness that surrounds his eyes, bags of fatigue that usually hang underneath.
He continues to stare, unmoving.
Considering all your previous interactions, you’ve realized, he isn’t scary or rude or anything of that sort—he’s just awkward.
A bit quiet and unbothered, maybe, but still just awkward. You don’t think he’s ever started an interaction with you first.
“Is there any flower in particular that you’re looking for?” you ask, motioning around your store.
The selection is limited this season—a few camellias and clusters of Japanese primrose with an abundance of peonies and daffodils.
His head turns as he glances around the store, pigtails bobbing slightly with each movement. When he faces you again, he shrugs, voice deep and firm as he asks, “Do you have any recommendations?”
It’s an odd feeling, borderline awkward and nervous; you have no idea why your mind is blanking.
“Um,” you clear your throat, tucking the peonies between your fingers into your apron pocket, “daffodils are bright and friendly, good for entryways and front desks, I think.”
He eyes the daffodils to your right, buckets of stems holding yellow and white. The store stays quiet for what feels like a good minute before he nods, agreeing to your suggestion.
“The usual?” two clusters, wrapped in newspaper.
Your question echoes throughout the shop, lingering while you pick at which daffodils look best.
“Yes, but two of them.” he answers in monotone, before adding on, a soft hesitancy, “Please.”
You smile to yourself, picking more daffodils for another bunch.
Both of you make your way to the cashier, another bout of silence surrounding you as you crumple newspaper and pull at tape. He always watches, you notice, his focus set on your practiced handling of stems and leaves.
You look up momentarily, seeing that he keeps his head down, “The pigtails are cool.”
He doesn’t say anything, and for a while you’re afraid you might have offended him, but he responds, voice low; it’s soft, gentle in a way you never expected it to be.
“Thank you.” you catch him shifting his weight from your periphery, hands digging deeper into his pockets, “The dogs think they’re chew toys when I wear it this way.”
You most certainly were not expecting that, either.
This is the most initiative he’s taken to add onto the conversation.
You grin, chuckling under your breath, “That must be fun.”
It’s faint, but you think you hear him laugh a little.
When the flowers are completely wrapped, you set them aside, making your way behind the cash register. You punch in the cost, ready to bill him before he speaks again.
“Actually, would you happen to do deliveries?” he seems shy asking it, barely looking you in the eye.
“Yes!” You nod, grabbing a pen and paper to hand over to him, “Just write down your contact details, the address you want it delivered to, and when you’d like it to be delivered.”
Another thing you’ve realized, is that despite appearances and what he seems to be, Choso handles objects gently; the pen and paper you’d just given him were taken lightly from your fingertips. Even the strokes of his penmanship are slow, the tip of the pen barely creating an indent on the small sheet.
“Will you be having both of these delivered?” you ask, holding up the bundles of daffodils.
“Just one.” he answers promptly, before adding on again, “Thank you.”
And you know you shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t be so nosy, but—
“What’s the occasion?”—
Flowers are rarely in demand during the winter season.
—“If you don’t mind me asking,” you follow-up quickly.
The immediate quiet makes you think you might have gotten too comfortable again, made him feel weird about your questions—but he answers.
“My brothers,” he finishes the final curves of his writing, “they’re coming to visit.”
The piece of paper is handed to you, and you hum, acknowledging his response. You go over his details, reciting it to him to double-check. But when you land on his address, your eyes go wide, a little ‘oh!’ slipping out.
He furrows his brows, confused.
You definitely, most certainly did not expect this.
“Sorry,” you shake your head, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Just—“ you chuckle, “I think we might be neighbors.”
thank you notes: @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for sending me lil prompts that somehow birthed into this!! + @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell for feeding the choso brainrot 🥹 + @mysugu @soumies for being my angels, lights of my life!! listening to me ramble abt this and helping me pick music, hash out plot, pick title, everything! ily
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
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