yandere jjba x f!reader (oneshots)

Muhammad Avdol

Hi guys!! I am back, how are you? Fine, thank you.😸

Again I apologize for not posting, this is what I have for this month, school begins in a few days so expect a (probably) long hiatus, I hope writers block doesn't affect me in September because I have to finish a Secco one shot!!! Anyway, please enjoy! I'm happy for your support on reading!!

Avdol making sure his partner is happy but still unable to leave him.
No warning, not too dark.

Consciousness came reluctantly, as it always did these days. You floundered, briefly, in those moments between sleep and wakefulness when you still didn't fully realize where you were or what was happening, but the cool kiss of lips pressed against your forehead was more than enough to ground you in reality.

"Mmm," the noise you made was something not quite a mumble and not quite a moan as you instinctively reached out, seeking the man you knew to be so close. You ran your fingers along the knots in his hair before his hands took yours in a gentle but inescapable grasp, lowering them to rest on your bed.

"Are you feeling better today?" the words stirred something in you, something disquieting, but the feeling was too far in the back of your mind to be worth any real attention. Yes, you were feeling better, you decided, well enough to get up.

You opened your eyes. It was late in the morning, if you had to guess by the way light filtered through cracks in the drapes, carefully pulled to prevent any light from falling on your bed. Here in Cairo that would normally mean an oppressive and dry heat, but your room stayed blessedly cool even on the worst days, through a system of air circulation that...to be honest, you hadn't fully understood Avdol's explanation when he told you. All you really cared about was that you were comfortable; a hot and stuffy room would have only compounded the agony of being cooped up indoors all day.

Forcing yourself into a sitting position was an exercise that was once trivial, but now left you pausing to catch your breath. Avdol simply leaned over to rearrange your pillows, but you could tell he understood how weak you had gotten. It was in everything from the way he avoided his gaze to the way he held his breath until your own returned to normal. You watched the sunlight glint off the bangles on his hands for a long moment, seeing your own reflection in them, taken aback by how...awful you looked. Someone had been careful to keep your hair neatly brushed, but the bags beneath your eyes and the way the clothes hung loosely off your frame were much harder to hide. How much time had passed without you even realizing it? How long had you been sick?

"What day is it?" you croaked, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Monday," Avdol said simply. He moved again, distorting your reflection and forcing you to pull your eyes away as he rummaged in a bag he'd brought to your bedside. He held up a small glass with a faint smile.

Lassi. The yogurt drink you'd taken a liking to had become one of the few bright spots of everyday life. You could always count on Avdol to bring you a cup when you needed cheering up...the weight of an unknown sadness hit you suddenly as you took the glass from him, fingers brushing against his.

"I thought you might enjoy it if we visited the gardens later—when it's cooler, of course. The hibiscus blooms made me think of you. And after that, we can..."

He went on about the plans he wanted to make with you, but you weren't listening, too busy staring into the depths of your cup. Deciding whether you wanted to finally voice the fear that had been plaguing you, to say the words and give it shape.

"Am I dying, Avdol?" Even to your own ears, the question sounded offhanded. Detached.

He froze mid-sentence. The bag he'd been fumbling with hit the ground. You took a moment to brace yourself before meeting his own widened eyes, searching for the answer you already knew was coming.

"Is that why I can't leave? Why you've been keeping the doctors away?" If he was surprised that you knew about that—that you'd overheard snatches of his hushed conversations on the phone and outside your room—he didn't show it, just let you keep talking.

"Am I here because I'm not getting better, and there's nothing anyone can do?"

"Take deep breaths. You aren't—" Avdol began to reach forward. The fear and unnamed anger, already clawing its way up your throat with the questions you raised, flared.

"Don't touch me!" You regretted lashing out the moment you did it. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it), your inactivity had weakened you, and the cup fell short of its intended target, dropping harmlessly to the floor and spilling its contents everywhere.

Avdol dodged your throw easily and gathered you in his embrace, ignoring your halfhearted protests to hold you tightly to his chest. He smelled like sandalwood, and the strong and steady rhythm of his heart reverberated in your ears. A long moment passed, punctuated by your harsh breathing and his soothing mumbles, as your hysteria gradually melted away, replaced by muted grief. You could feel your eyes well up with tears.

"You aren't going to die. You aren't going to die." Avdol said it like a mantra, as if repeating it would eventually make you believe it, too. "This is merely a particularly stubborn illness. I would never let something like this kill you. Do you believe me?"

You didn't, but humoring him would make him feel better. "Sure," you mumbled back.

Avdol chuckled and pulled back, looking down at you.

"No, no, I can tell that you don't. Then allow me to make a prediction: the worst is behind us. Tonight you will recover some of your strength, and will surely feel more than well enough to go out and view the stars with me. Perhaps," and this he said with a wink, "we can even read together after dinner."

The comment drew an awkward giggle out of you; you couldn't remember the last time you'd finished a meal without immediately falling asleep. "Now you're just promising the impossible."

"No, no! I'll stake the shop on it!" he laughed, trying to inject more levity into the conversation, but his hold on you was still tight. Worried. You shrugged, partly to loosen his grip, partly in answer to the unspoken question."

"Sorry about the drink. I can..."

Avdol would hear none of it. "Go shower. I can clean it up while you're in there. Come..."

He stood up, helping you to unsteady feet. In times past he had carried you, but stopped after your repeated objections ("I'm ill, Avdol, but I can still walk"). As you entered the bathroom, and he prepared to leave you to it, you hesitated. He immediately froze.

"Something the matter?"

"Do you...really think I'll get better? As early as tonight?"

Avdol simply smiled at you, confident and sure. "If I were a bad fortune teller, darling, I wouldn't have stayed in business this long. You'll see."

And you would get better. Avdol would make sure of it. He'd need to adjust your dosage to find the perfect amount, but it was unnecessarily cruel to make you live in fear just to stop you from leaving him.

1251 words