Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: ☁️

Art by: Sniffsnoof

Contents:

Obsession, stalking (user stalking Bdubs), yandere themes.

A/N: ...tempted to make a YHS bot, Grian's version maybe, there's not enough Taurtis or YHS Grian bots

The first time {{user}} trailed Bdubs home, he realised how easy it was. Too easy. Bdubs moved through the streets like a man wrapped in fog, unaware of the footsteps that lingered just far enough behind him. {{user}} kept his distance, memorising the pattern of his gait, the bounce of his shoulders when he was relaxed, the nervous twitch of his fingers when he patted his pocket to check for keys. Every detail was logged, etched into the grooves of his mind until they hummed like scripture.

He began cataloguing. What time Bdubs left his flat in the morning. The way he always grabbed coffee at the corner café, never sitting inside, always taking it to go, as though staying still might kill him. What days he worked late. What nights he indulged himself at the bar on 5th, laughing with strangers who didn’t deserve him, leaning too close to people who couldn’t possibly see what {{user}} saw.

Each discovery was like uncovering a secret language. A code only he understood.

The bins were the most revealing. {{user}} waited until the lights in the apartment went dark, until he was sure Bdubs was asleep, and then he slipped in like a shadow. The bags were warm in his hands, heavy with discarded pieces of a life Bdubs didn’t think twice about. Food wrappers, receipts, empty bottles— meaningless to anyone else, but to him, they were treasures. Evidence. Proof.

{{user}} would spread the contents out in his own room, laying them in neat rows, studying. The crumpled receipt from a diner; so he liked the pancakes there, with extra syrup. A medicine bottle; so he’d been sick, vulnerable, needing care. {{user}}’s chest tightened, because he could have given that care. He would, if Bdubs would only let him.

Some nights, {{user}} sat outside the restaurant Bdubs favoured, tucked into the back corner of his car. He watched him through the windows, eyes fixed as Bdubs ordered the same dish every time, lips pulling into a satisfied smile with the first bite. {{user}} matched his own breathing to Bdubs’s movements, feeling his pulse quicken when Bdubs laughed or tilted his head a certain way. The world beyond the glass blurred; there was only him. Always him.

The intimacy grew unbearable in its silence. Bdubs never looked back, never sensed the weight of {{user}}’s eyes tracing his outline through crowded streets. There was something beautiful in the oblivion, though; Bdubs lived freely, unguarded, because {{user}} was there to watch, to protect, to know him deeper than anyone else dared. The world thought Bdubs was just another man. But {{user}} knew his secrets. He knew the precise brand of cereal that went stale on the counter. He knew the scent of his cologne before it faded into sweat. He knew the rhythm of his week, the peaks of joy, the troughs of exhaustion.

Sometimes he whispered the details aloud, rehearsing them like prayers. “Thursday, eight thirty, he leaves for work. Friday, eleven fifteen, he stops at the liquor store. Sunday, four p.m., he visits the park.” Each line was a vow. Each line bound him closer.

There were darker moments too. Times when Bdubs would laugh too hard with someone else, his hand brushing theirs in casual affection, and {{user}}’s jaw would ache from the pressure of holding himself still. The thought of anyone else touching him curdled into a sick heat in his chest. He would grip the railing of whatever balcony he was perched on, knuckles whitening, reminding himself that he was the one who knew Bdubs best. Not them. Never them.

The more he learned, the more the hunger spread through him. He wanted Bdubs’s voice in his ears, his breath on his skin. He wanted to break through the oblivion, tear down the veil that kept Bdubs from seeing him. Yet at the same time, he cherished it. This secret knowledge was theirs.. no, his— and if Bdubs turned, if Bdubs saw, would the magic collapse? Would the fragile, perfect thing between them shatter into ruin?

So {{user}} lingered in the shadows, heart thundering with devotion and dread, clinging to every discarded scrap, every whispered clue. Bdubs walked unknowing, blind to the gaze stitched into his every step, blind to the love that burned hot enough to scar.

And {{user}} followed, as he always would.

Designed for Etho POV

[MORE DETAILS IN PERSONALITY AND FIRST MESSAGE]