#he’s really out there kidnapped and being tortured and they’re like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vilsoo · 7 months

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𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴.𝑪𝑶𝑴 ⌇GHOST, KÖNIG

ghost x fem!reader x könig || WC: 3,852

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. the dark web was a place every sane person stayed away from. too many horror stories and dark content that barely a few dared to venture in. but you’d rather not be anywhere else than in the hands of two masked strangers…

𖤐 WARNINGS. dubcon, kidnapping, drugging, sadism, voyeurism, bondage (blindfolding, ropes, torture), sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, mind break, double penetration, mask kink, impact play.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Deathgasm live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

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The last time you ever saw broad daylight was ripped apart before your eyes.

It was just a relaxing morning stroll. You were always, always aware of your surroundings, especially during the night. But you shouldn’t have underestimated what happens in the day. Things became unsettling when you noticed a white van lurking in your peripheral vision, feeling your skin crawl and your body tense up with paranoia when the doors opened.

At first, you thought you were overthinking about it. Stop being so fucking paranoid, you scolded to yourself. Maybe they’re just contractors or something. Nothing sketchy at all.

You just kept walking that day continuing to embrace the warmth of the sun, sometimes looking over your shoulders just to be sure. But that unsettling, turmoil gut-feeling just couldn’t go away. As if you really were being followed. As if that van parked all the way out here for you.

“Quickly.”

It wasn’t until in just half a heartbeat, a brawny, masked man clung his arm around you, rendering you motionless as he presses a cloth over your nose and your mouth. With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape his grasp but your struggle was to no avail. Your screams were muffled and your vision grew hazy, causing your eyes to flutter as your numb body was pulled backwards, backwards, and backwards... And that was when your world was swallowed away by darkness.

“Shh, shh… We got you now. We’ll be taking care of you now...”

“…Told you she’d be easy, Ghost. We’ll have her all to ourselves…”

On that sinister day, you were the one with the shiny price tag. A beautiful woman walking all alone near a remote area, suddenly kidnapped by two masked men in a white van who had special, ominous plans for you. You could hear their conversations reverberating in your head, trying to register what the hell even happened. With your body temporarily limp and weakened, you could still feel the sensation of their caresses all over you.

Usually kidnappers would be so aggressive handling their female victims. At least, in the movies you’ve seen. The men would rush and scamper out of impatience and impulse as they tie their victims up, desperate to get down to business like it was their last meal on Earth. And even though your brain was foggy, you could register that you were being downed by a drug and abducted. Yet, it all felt… oddly tantalizing.

There was no rush. No sign of impulse nor rough treatment from these mysterious masked men. Instead of this predator-prey dynamic, instead of fear and terror seizing every fiber of your being, the men handled your motionless body like having a cupped hand of water, that not a drop would enter gravity's pull. In the back of a van, you laid on a blanket as gloved hands roamed about your skin, your waist, your face, your thighs… The men cut off your clothes with scissors, ever so gently trying not to hurt you. With your hazy eyes drifting side to side, you caught glimpse of one of them holding rope and the other holding your arms above your head.

“Look at her. So fucking cute when she’s all spaced out like that…”

“She’s so obedient for us already. You’re gonna be a perfect little pornstar for us, aren’t ya’?”

…Pornstar?

Before you knew it, your heavy eyes started to sulk. You were slowing down while the world around blurred, completely losing your coherence as the masked men moved you around like a lifeless doll. You couldn’t stop sighing, babbling nonsense, and whimpering when their large hands just couldn’t keep off of you, hanging your wrists on some metal hook attached to the van’s ceiling so they could caress your body. Your numb legs were then spread open, revealing the soaked fabric of your panties that you heard one of them coo in your ears. You whined when one of them slid their hand down to toy with your slit, aching and so swollen, out of your own fear and arousal. It was futile to even try and close your legs from this violation, yet the heat pooling in between was saying otherwise…

“Fuck, she’s already so wet just by being tied up. Makes me wanna take her here right now.”

“…We have to go now, König. Just keep playing with her clit until she falls asleep…”

The anticipation from such a forbidden desire worsened the ache in your cunt. At this fleeting moment you didn’t know what exactly you wanted anymore; how to choose what was good or what was bad for you. Your foggy brain couldn’t even articulate anything except this writhing sensation, this urge to submit yourself and melt onto the man’s chest just to let him use you. Encircling his fingers on your throbbing clit that you were bashfully moaning and whining, knowing that they were getting off to a pathetic, brainless, helpless woman who’s good for nothing but a fuck…

It was too bad that before you could even build up your orgasm, you were already passed out…

“… And we’re live. Wake her up.”

You had no idea how long you’ve been out. At least your coherence was starting to gauge, but your body was still weakened and frail from the drug. You struggled to open your debilitated eyes, vision hazy and blurry as if you hit your head. And when you tried to move, your wrists were still bound above your head.

Your breathing grew rapid, eyes darting every corner as you were scanning the new environment. Tied in a darkened room with red lighting, followed by a camera on a tripod right in front of you. Your mind immediately thought of this setup as a sex dungeon, hence the chains on the walls and a bed neatly made behind you. Recalling what had happened earlier, you tried to look for the men in masks, creating noises by dangling the metal hook above you and whimpering to let them know you’re awake. But as far as you could tell, you couldn’t make out any other presence lingering in the room…

Your heart was a pounding loud drum in your chest. Panic scorches in your brain, but your touch-starved body betrays your inhibitions… You were completely naked, exposing yourself in front of the camera. In your mouth, a red ball gag pooling with drool that dripped down to your stomach and on the floor. Your legs were free from the rope, however, you were on your tippie toes— the rope holding your wrists were too high that it was a struggle to relax them or you’d injure yourself. Dangling on rope, gagging and drooling on a ball, naked in front of a camera that you assumed to be recording already… how much more lewd could this be?

A gloved hand emerging from the shadows makes you flinch as it caresses you from behind. Your skin tingled when you felt the man’s body heat transmit onto your back, hearing him breathe deeply. You were able to study him up close— an alluring, mysterious man wearing a balaclava with a skull design, recalling him being called “Ghost.” Another pair of gloved hands greet you by massaging your breasts, your body immediately succumbing to this white-hot wave of sensation, desperate to be handled like this that more heat pooled between your legs. You turn your head and meet his gaze; piercing, forest green eyes and a draped mask, the other man with the German accent known as “König.”

“You’re not gonna struggle and try to resist us, are you?” Ghost teased, his voice so intoxicating than any alcohol you’ve ever consumed. He had this husky, sultry British accent; something you’ve never expected coming from a stranger like him. It only turned you on more.

You shake your head at him meekly, replying with a faint moan when he suddenly grips your ass. Ghost immediately catches the doe-eyes you gave him, the right kind of heat and lust pooling in your eyes. This was all so, so wrong… to be abducted and chained in the dark, to be turned on by strangers in tactical gear who drugged you and had sinister plans for you… But yet, you couldn’t fight this brain-fazing sensation from the anticipation quivering inside, wondering what was going to happen to you as you were in the hands of these men. And your aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing, having to hold back a whimper from how needy and slutty you really were...

“Good girl,” Ghost praised as he held your face with one hand. “Tonight, everything we do to you is gonna be livestreamed. You’re not here just to please us— you’ll have to please our audience, too. You like being shown off, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” You nodded like you were already made for this, allowing what your body was secretly ravenous for. A little enthusiasm, but also bashfulness— the epitome of submission. Perhaps deep down, you adored being showed off; basking in the limelight of being a free use in front of thousands of strangers…

König’s hand slithers down your back and onto your ass, yelping when he spanked it so abruptly that it left a throbbing sting. Your back involuntarily arched and when his fingers just fit right in between your thighs, chafing your swollen, wet cunt that it was hard holding back your pathetic whines and moans.

“Getting off to this already?” he coaxed, now increasing the speed of his fingers teasing your folds that you threw your head back on his shoulder. Immediately writhing on his fingers playing with your swollen clit, unable to respond properly when Ghost wrapped his hand around your throat.

“They wanna hear you scream,” Ghost muttered into your ears, slightly smirking under his mask. “You can’t be enjoying all this without a little bit of pain.”

As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. The panic and anticipation spiraled into shameless arousal. Without warning, König eased two of his fingers knuckles deep inside your wet cunt so easily, thrusting insanely fast that your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around his fingers hitting that spot that made you squirm. Shamelessly spreading your legs as Ghost kept playing with your tits, squeezing both of your nipples so tight that your loud squeal reverberated off the walls of the room.

That mix of pleasure and pain; you’d be lying to yourself if you truly enjoyed it… It was torturous, it was too brutal to endure, but your skin was flashing hotter than ever, your clit throbbing erratically with a heartbeat of its own. König felt his cock stirring in his suit, getting off to your helpless state that he thrusted his fingers so hard, curling them to abuse your g-spot. Denying your own orgasm was painfully inevitable. The two men could see it pooling in your eyes like it was unobtainable, watching your body constantly squirming under their touches.

“You think she deserves to come?” taunted Ghost.

“We’ll make her come as many times as she can. Even if she can’t handle it.” You could feel König’s other hand slithering down to your inner thigh as if he was about to grab it, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “And we’re not gonna fucking stop no matter how many times you beg. You’re our little fucktoy now and you’re gonna be treated just like one.”

Lust speared through you from their words. The men were unpredictable in their own sinister ways; it caught you off guard from the way König abruptly lifted your left leg and held it in the air as Ghost takes a vibrator onto your clit. Fingers still fucking into your cunt and your sensitive clit getting overstimulated had you yanking the rope, your body writhing and squirming that they tell you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” and forced you in place. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.

Never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight. It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. Knowing that there were thousands of strangers getting off to this, getting off to a helpless slut tied up and tortured by masked men that can’t do anything except enjoy it, you basked in it. Forced multiple orgasms, stinging pain, lewd noises, and loud screams… this was all related to the dark web you’ve been hearing recently.

After collecting yourself, a wave of clarity hit you so suddenly that things were starting to make sense. There were recent kidnappings of women who were found later on a livestream website called Deathgasm.com, where numerous videos of gangbangs with these women and masked men in tactical gear are recorded live. They take place in either the back of a van or in a dark room, which viewers assume as a sex dungeon.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. As sick and twisted this was, your body couldn’t help but succumb to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. There were even times out of curiosity you’d search the site and realize how attractive the men in masks and tactical gear are. Toying and playing with a tied up woman who also secretly succumb to this, their quivering fear and terror surrendering into arousal and tantalization. Having no choice but to orgasm over and over even though it’s too much, looking into the men’s faces with lingering dark anonymity and their brawny, large bodies looming over them just to fulfil their filthy, dark plans. And you would not trade this for anything in the world.

Perhaps you adored being showed off. Basking in the limelight of being used like a fucktoy and watched by strangers online that are fucked up in the head, like an exhibitionist. Or maybe you’ve been brainwashed to even think this way— maybe you just have little, fucked up fantasies of your own... It didn’t even matter anymore; your thoughts became mush when Ghost and König suspended you up in the air this time, your wrists and ankles bound behind you with your legs also tied apart. The gag was finally off but a blindfold had covered your eyes, not being able to tell who’s who and what the men plan to do to you now.

You were already a mess; strings of saliva and drool hanging off your chin that dripped onto König’s cock, slowly easing it in your widened mouth. It was Ghost’s turn to play with your pussy and ass, moaning and yelping when he spanked your cheeks so harshly. Nothing could compare to this amount of excitement pounding in your pussy, practically whining on Konig’s fat cock in your mouth as Ghost kept teasing you.

To describe the comments in the live chat as obscene is an understatement— the men were greedy, ravenous, filthy. Shamelessly admitting their own raunchy, fucked up scenarios with you tied up like that. Degrading you like a worthless whore, admiring your body and pussy that’s good for fucking, or sending money to get Ghost and König to fulfill their requests:

[ $20 ] both of you fuck her pussy and ass at the same time. stretch out that tight asshole

[ $25 ] carve the word “slut” on her thigh i want that bitch bloody and screaming in pain

[ $22 ] make her squirt i wanna see that pussy juice all over the camera lens

And though you couldn’t read the comments or see the camera, you just indulged into this and presented yourself as a horny, free-use slut that’s made for fucking. You can feel Ghost’s cockhead brushing the folds of your cunt, coating it with your juices. König thrusted his cock straight inside your throat that it was too much for you to handle, gagging and moaning pathetically as Ghost kept teasing you it felt like utter torture. But that blissful feeling blossoming in your stomach was saying otherwise…

You were so desperate for more friction; Ghost took sick pleasure in seeing you like this, writhing and bucking your hips for him to slide inside your cunt already. When he finally eased his cock so deep, you were given no warning as he pounded so hard and rough into you. The sensation of your cunt getting stretched out from his size, grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth on his cock... You were a wrecked mess already; your face streaked with tears, your chin dripping with drool, and your skin all slick and sweaty. The thought of being reduced to a free use fuck-slut that thrives off from only cock and orgasms as you were suspended mid-air… you could no longer think for yourself anymore.

“Look at you. Getting all dumb and brainless over our cocks,” Ghost cooed, harshly spanking your ass. “You like being our little pornstar? Knowing that a bunch of strangers online jerk off to you being used like this?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as the men kept pounding and thrusting, hearing König pant heavily and Ghost grunt when you kept squeezing ever so tightly around him. In just a minute, another orgasm. But that didn’t stop Ghost mercilessly pounding into you like an animal gone wild and König fucking your throat so relentlessly. Your screams and moans form into gags urging out, drips of precum and drool seeping on your chin that König smeared all over your glossy face. The more they sensed that you were taking pleasure from all this, the more brutal they were with you.

It felt like you were in the air for hours as the men switched around and took turns. Your cunt was becoming overly slick with the copious amounts of cum that was being pumped into it, some left on your ass and some dripping onto the floor. Even when they weren’t inside you, the continual pounding and the oozing cum throbbed in your walls. You still couldn’t see anything and you were still bound. It wasn’t until your eyes started feeling heavy again and your body fell numb; the men didn’t like that.

“We didn’t say you could fucking sleep,” König chided as he harshly grabbed your face and slipped off the blindfold.

“That drug is still hitting you, huh?” teased Ghost as he messing around with the ropes that held you in the air. “For that, we’ll make her do the work this time. Untie her and get her on top of me on the bed so she’ll ride me. Leave her arms tied only.”

You couldn’t protest, for your words started to slur and your mouth was only used for moaning pathetically. Once König brought you down from the air, he shoved you onto the bed, holding your legs in the air as Ghost laid underneath you. There was another camera facing the bed that you noticed, the light burning into your retinas as you stare into it. Although you were half awake, a weak smile stretches on your lips, wanting to the viewers know how prideful you were of this and how good Ghost and König make you feel.

When Ghost slowly settled inside your ass, you’ve felt a stirring sensation in your stomach. Never have you thought about losing your anal virginity so soon, but it had you throwing your head back and whining. He had the ball gag from before in his hands and wrapped it back around your opened mouth, telling you to keep staring into the camera and ride him like the dirty, messy slut that you are. With your feet on the bed and your legs spread, you slowly settle down on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and your body contorting from how intense it all felt.

You knew that you didn’t wanna go painfully slow; you wanted Ghost to feel good as well. To the point where he’d finally hold your hips in the air and fuck his cock into your ass and König can finally slide himself in your pussy, overstimulating you so greatly. It was hard to keep balance with your hands bound behind your back and your staggering strength. But you kept telling yourself that this was all that you wanted, grinding your hips and bouncing your ass up and down, emitting juddering grunts from Ghost.

“Keep your legs spread open for me,” König ordered. “Show to the camera how good you take two cocks inside of you.”

Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between the two masked men, filling your holes and stuffing you harshly. Sitting on Ghost’s cock as your legs were wide open, letting them both pound into you… You lost the feeling of stability in your entire body, your inhibition being taken over by the desperate sensation of cock. It broke your mind, but that was what you craved for. It was pure euphoria, rapturing you in a burning enticement that you were bound in. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as Ghost and König fucks you through your third orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

such a hot fucking slut taking both dicks

i wish i could fuck her cunt and put that dumb bitch in her place

how many times did she come already 😂

You enjoyed it. You enjoyed it all. The mind-wrecking, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the pain, the thought of being watched and masturbated to by perverts… It felt as if your life had been reformed. You were now a slutty whore that was good for nothing but a fuck. A depository for cum, just holes for fucking and a toy to torture. Your cunt was now battered and bruised, ass stinging and throbbing from being slapped multiple times, and both of your holes stretched and aching from how deep and rough they fucked you out. All those sensitive, velvet tissues that should never see the light of day, for they were property of Ghost and König only. Your poor cunt couldn’t stop flexing over nothing, yearning for that feeling of fullness again.

The next few hours after you were done being used, you were tied up in a strappado position with a vibrating dildo tied to your cunt. Left alone in the dark with the camera still on and recording, still blindfolded and gagged. Forced orgasms over and over, stranded like this throughout the rest of your days and nights until they felt like using you again. From what Ghost told you, the viewers seemed to favor you. They wanted to see more of you on Deathgasm, never to return to your old life and remain a free-use.

“Next time, I’ll make it hurt real good for you,” he forewarned before. “They can watch and cum as many times as they please, but you… You only cum for me now.”

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @aft0nsimp @crysugu @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @apwing @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @mqfuyuu @strawberrymilk4k @strvwberrymilk @maidenssymphony @shycoffeetaco @zippertwat @killzenin @titantears @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @maddietries @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins

#🕸️. 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 #codmw2 smut #codmw2 #cod x you #cod x reader #ghost x you #konig x you #ghost smut #konig smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 smut #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost x reader #konig call of duty #konig codmw2

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taevbears · 7 months

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Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it.

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung.

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you.

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths.

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer.

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail.

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain.

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films.

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek.

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—”

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face.

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds.

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

#movie night os #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook #bts horror #jungkook horror #halloween 2023 #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

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suugarbabe · 5 months

Text

[Chapter 8]

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/drunkeness, mentions of blood, kidnapping, torture, use of torture curses

An: so sorry this took so long, I was sick and mentally exhausted from other things and also debating where to end the chapter and where to start the next one; hope its alright :)

Enzo clutched his arm, rubbing the spot you had just harshly hit with your fist, “Okay, ow! You didn’t have to hit me that hard, Angel. T’was just a joke, yeh?” You rolled your eyes, picking up the box in front of you and setting it on the pallet. “You know she wouldn’t have hit you if you weren’t being such a twat,” Pansy spoke without looking up from her clipboard, marking off which weapons from the artillery stock you and Enzo were packing for the next ‘business meeting’ and what was left.

You shot a sickly sweet smile Enzo’s way, “Yeah, Enz, don’t be such a twat.” Enzo scoffed, “I was not being a twat! I simply asked if I could have your room since you and Riddle obviously sleep together. There’s no point in you each having your own room and I know for a fact he gave you a bigger room than mine.” You reared your fist back as if you were going to hit him again, causing Enzo to flinch slightly. You smirked at this, “You’re the most dangerous of the family but you’re afraid of lil ol’ me?”

Enzo shook his head, “Nuh-uh, I know there’s something else deeply hidden within you that we haven’t seen yet. I’m not pushing my chances. And you’re avoiding the question.” You huffed, placing two large rifles in a long wooden box before turning to face him, hands on your hips, “For your information, if Mattheo and I do sleep in the same room, it’s my room. I’ve never in been in his room. So maybe you should go ask him if you can have his room.” Enzo’s face dropped slightly, “Mmm no, I think I’m good. But answer me this,” the smirk that formed on his face gave way that you were going to hate what he was about to say, “Does Riddle make you call him boss during sex?”

A low groan left Enzo’s throat as he clutched his arm once more, “Shit, Pansy! In the same spot, really?” You high fived Pansy, “Serves you right.” You stuck your tongue out at Enzo, who mirrored your action. Pansy opened her mouth to tell you both to stop acting like such siblings when Draco’s voice rang between your ears, Family meeting, dining room, five minutes. You glanced between the two in front of you, “We all heard that right?” Enzo nodded, “You mean the annoying voice of a ferret ringing in my head?” Pansy slapped Enzo in the arm, in the same place of the two previous punches, “Merlin’s beard, can I not have any fun anymore?”

The three of you apparated back into the foyer of the house, making your way into the dining room to see everyone but Mattheo already sat at the table. You took your place to the left of Mattheo’s chair, still glaring and making faces at Enzo sitting across from you. Theo leaned closer to Pansy on his left, “What’s with those two?” Pansy shook her head, “Please don’t ask.” Theo opened his mouth to respond again only to be cut off by Mattheo walking in to the room, his presence alone enough to silence the table.

All eyes focused on Mattheo sat at the head of the table. “Tonight is an important deal for us. The De Luca family has been making deals with us since the beginning, they’re some of our most trusted muggle allies. Theo and Enzo, you two will load the pallets on the truck while Blaise, Draco and I go and meet them at the discussed location.” The boys all nodded at their assignments, not questioning what they were told. “What about us?” You motioned between yourself and Pansy, essentially halting some of the boys midway as they had begun to stand up. Almost as if he anticipated your questioning, Mattheo had a simple answer for you. “You’re not going.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “And why the bloody hell not?” Mattheo’s jaw clenched momentarily as others around the table widened their eyes. No one spoke to Mattheo that way, not when it came to business deals. Taking a deep breath to center himself before turning to you, his eyes a dark onyx as he spoke, “You’re not ready.” You narrowed your eyes at him, clearly not satisfied with his answer. Mattheo mirrored you, not stepping down from his decision, “I understand this may be frustrating, but I’m not willing to risk a repeat of the last time. You’re just not ready yet.”

It was your jaw that clenched now, “A repeat of the last time?” Mattheo had his tongue in cheek, clearly trying to keep his composure and his tone authoritative, “Yes, the last time. Lest not forget you nearly getting sexually assaulted and the boys and I having to kill five fucking people, or has that occurrence slipped your pretty little mind, Princess?” You tensed slightly, your eyes squeezing shut at the memory. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze you tried to match his demeanor, “No, Mattheo, it has not.” He gave you a saccharine smile that you took as anything but sweet. Leaning back in your chair you crossed your arms, pouting in defeat.

Mattheo felt a strange pang in his chest, like a tight ache that was telling him to change his mind, but he had to stand his ground, “You and Pansy have the night off. Enjoy it. It won’t happen much in the future.” He avoided your gaze, looking everywhere but your eyes because he knew once he did he would give in. Instead he kept his stare the the black mahogany beneath his tapping fingertips, “I’m doing you a favor. You have the night off.” You leaned forward on your elbows, making sure to keep your tone sweet and even, “Thank you, boss, I truly appreciate it.” The use of his title stung, but he did not have the time to dwell on his feelings.

Giving the boys all a curt nod, the group stood. Each man disappearing with a chorus of crack-like pops. When the last one was out of site you turned to Pansy, letting out a frustrated, “Can you fucking believe that?” At the same time she blew out a laughing, “You are so fucking lucky, Birdie.” You blinked at her in confusion, “Lucky? How am I lucky? I essentially just got sat from a business deal because other men can’t handle I have fucking tits.” Pansy just smirked, shaking her head, “The sooner you acknowledge your feelings for each other the better all of our lives will be. I mean him too by the way. That little lovers quarrel you guys had at the table had us all at the edge of our seats. You should’ve heard the things Theo was saying.”

You groaned, “Spare me.” Pansy couldn’t help but laugh, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “C’mon. Let’s go shopping or something, get your mind off it. We have the night off, remember?” You smiled then. A slow, almost sinister smile that had Pansy shaking her head. You stood up, walking out from the dinning room. Pansy was quick on your heels as you hustled up the stairs, “No. Birdie, whatever it is you’re thinking the answer is no.” You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the wheels in your mind from turning, “He told us we had the night off, Pans. Then let’s do what any hot, single women would do…let’s go out.” You walked into your room, making a b-line for your closet, “Help me pick out an outfit.”

You turned to see her still standing in the doorway, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. “Oh come on,” you walked back towards her, grasping her wrist and dragging her inside fully. “Help me pick one out and I’ll pick one out for you. You know they never come back from these business deals until the next day, hell, sometimes the next evening depending on how it goes. We’ll go out for a few hours, have some fun, and then we’ll be back here asleep in bed before they even knew we were gone.” Pansy chewed on the inside of her cheek, “Just one club?” You took your index finger, lifting it up to the center of your chest and making a small ‘x’ motion, “Cross my heart.”

Pansy’s shoulders relaxed then, her smiled growing two fold, “Okay…then I say wear,” she flicked through your options, giving a sad pout after a moment, “Wear something of mine, because for Salazar’s sake, Birdie, we need to take you shopping.” You groaned out a slight giggle, “I know…maybe if I play my cards right I can convince Mattheo to buy me some.” You were mostly joking, but the look Pansy gave you told you it would be worth a try in the future. After a few outfit changes, the two of you were turning in the mirror and examining your final choices. After much debate, you finally landed on a blood red corset top with a black leather skirt while pansy opted for a black body-con minidress.

You let out a low whistle as you took in your reflection, “Salazar’s fucking sake we look good.” Pansy nodded, “If we don’t get free drinks tonight, there’s something wrong with the male society.” You huffed a laugh in agreement. After a few finishing touches to your hair and makeup, the two of you apparated down the street from the dance club. As the two of you made your way down the pavement, you were acutely aware of how different you felt compared to a few months ago. “You know, Pans, I haven’t been out like this in a long time,” you hooked your elbow with hers as you guys approached the line to get in. Pansy leaned her head on your shoulder briefly, “We’re gonna have a good time tonight, Birdie. You deserve it. Just relax and let loose. Who knows when we’ll be able to do this again.” You giggled, smiling sweetly at the bouncer as he nodded and let the both of you in without hesitation.

As you entered the club the sound of bass was nearly overwhelming. You could only mildly hear the melody to whatever song was playing, let alone your own thoughts. Pansy hooked her fingers with yours as she led a path towards the bar. You could feel men’s eyes on the pair of you the whole way up. While at your own club Pansy was stoic and focused on her job, this seemed to be an environment where she thrived. Pansy gave a particular pair of tall, handsome men a wink as she squished the two of you between another pair of guys. “Oh, excuse me handsome, we were just trying to get a few drinks, maybe a shot or two,” Pansy’s tone was coated in honey as she batted her eyelashes at the broad blonde next to her.

Her seduction trick was flawless, the blonde man buying both shots and both cocktails. She thanked him and gave a pat to his cheek before dragging you to the dance floor. This became a repeated pattern for the night: bar, batted eyelashes, dance floor. You had to give it to her, the routine worked. “Go on, Birdie you try. How about…” her eyes dragged over the sea of bodies near the bar, “him.” Her manicured finger pointed at a taller man near the center of the bar. He was handsome sure, tanned skin and dark curls on the top of his head, “Why him?” Pansy gave you an incredulous look, “Because he looks like Mattheo.” You were thankful for the amount of alcohol in your system to help hide the burning blush that flooded your cheeks, “Okay, fine.”

You made your way to the bar, Pansy close behind. As you got closer you tried a different approach than Pansy’s earlier tactic. Coming up to the man you stood directly behind him. You motioned for Pansy to stand next to you, her giving you a questioning look. The bar area was crowded, and all you needed for you plan to work was exactly what was about to happen. As another group of people tried to squish through the crowd behind you, your body was bumped forward, causing you to put your hand out and catch yourself on the man in front of you. As you’d hoped, the man turned around and you made your eyes wide and innocent as you looked up at him through your lashes, “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. These crowds are terrible.”

The man smiled down at you, his eyes weren’t the same as Mattheo’s. The man’s were more of a walnut brown and felt cold, like this was all a game to him just as much you . His smile also was nothing near as stunning as Mattheo’s…but regardless the man was clearly falling for the charm you’d put on, eyeing you up and down as he spoke, “Oh it’s quite alright, beautiful.” You let out a bashful laugh, looking down at the ground. The man caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your gaze back to his, “Let me buy you a drink, your friend too.” His eyes flickered over your shoulder to Pansy.

“O-okay,” the boldness of his touch causing you to stutter over your words. Your chest ached once he turned to order the drinks. The interaction didn’t leave you as satisfied as it did Pansy, if anything it left you yearning for something else. You turned to Pansy after the man handed you the drinks, “I didn’t like that.” She hummed in acknowledgement, “Yeah I was more so testing a theory.” You raised both eyebrows at her, “Mind telling the whole class, Miss Parkinson?” Pansy shook her head, smiling as she downed half her drink, “Not, yet, Professor.”

The more you drank the more your chest ached. And the more you felt yourself longing for him. You were far beyond inebriated, not thinking clearly, but what Pansy couldn’t hear couldn’t hurt her. Mattheoooooo, you closed your eyes and called out to him, not even knowing where he was with the deal, if he was possibly fighting someone. You just wanted to hear his voice. Princess…what’s wrong? You smiled to yourself. You were sure to Pansy it seemed like you were just enjoying the music as your body still ebbed and flowed with the beat.

Mattheo’s frown turned down further, something that wasn’t unusual during business meet ups, but this one was going fairly well. “What’s up, boss?” Enzo leaned in to whisper to him. Mattheo held up a finger, trying to focus on your voice in his head, Teeeooooooo, miss youu. Mattheo’s jaw clenched, Birdie, where are you? You hated using your legimens, the fact that you were communicating with Mattheo that way, along with how you were talking was causing him high concern. I’m dancing wiff Pansy, she’s such a good dancer, Teo. I wish I was dancing with yoooou. Mattheo eyed Draco, silently telling him to take the lead before Mattheo walked off back towards the truck. Birdie, are you drunk? There’s no fucking dance floor at the house? Where the fuck are you?

He rubbed both hands over his face, trying to control his breathing. Not drunk…maybe drunk…don’t member the club name, like a pretty flower. Mattheo walked back towards the others, “Are you happy with the product or not?” He was being stern with the man but Mattheo needed this deal over with. The De Luca family member nodded his head, “Yeah, we’re happy. Well wire you the money first thing in the mornin’. Always good doin’ business with you, Riddle.” Mattheo nodded, shaking the man’s hand before grabbing Enzo’s collar and dragging him away with it. “Ow, woah, hey what the fuck?” Enzo was confused by the motion. “Birdie and Pansy went to a fucking club and now Birdies drunk, we have to go get them.”

Theo jogged to catch up, “Which club did our little trouble makers go to?” Mattheo scowled slightly, “This isn’t a fucking joke, Nott. And she said something about a pretty flower? She’s fucking drunk, she’s fucking talking to me through legimens and even then I can tell she’s slurring her words. You were a man whore in your prime, Nott, which club is that.” Theo huffed out a snort but didn’t deny Matthoe’s allegations, “Sounds like probably The Dahlia.” Mattheo nodded, “Draco, Blaise, you two take the truck back. Enzo, Theo, you’re coming with me.” The boys all nodded at their assignments as Mattheo reached out to you again, Stay put, Princess, I’m coming to get you. He rounded the corner with the other two boys to make sure they were out of sight before apparating to the alley down the block from the club.

Your voice rang in his head once more, Are you going to dance with me Teo? I miss you so m- Mattheo stopped in his tracks the moment your voice cut out causing the two behind him to almost smack into his back. “What is it, what happened?” Enzo was taking in their surroundings checking for threats he may have missed. “Her voice, it just…cut out. She was talking to me and then it was like something cut it off before she could finish.” Enzo wore a worried look, glancing over at Theo whose lips were downturned. Mattheo started walking again, only faster this time. As they approached the entrance to the club, the bouncer must have recognized Theo because he pulled back the rope and allowed the three men in without question.

As they approached the edge of the dance floor Mattheo gave one instruction, “Find them.” The three spread out, weaving through swaying, sweaty bodies as they tried to catch a glimpse of anyone that looked remotely like either you or Pansy. Running into Theo, Enzo asked if he had any luck. Theo shook his head, “Not yet. Every bloody black haired woman looks like Pansy out here and I can’t catch a glimpse of Birdie anywhere.” Mattheo approached the two, eyes asking the same question Enzo had moments before. Theo shook his head, Enzo’s height giving him an advantage in the middle of the crowd. “There,” he pointed over the heads of those around him. Theo and Mattheo turn, following his indication until they’re face to face with a very far gone Pansy.

She pouted as they approached, assuming they were there to break up the fun. She opened her mouth to complain when Matthoe effectively cut her off, “Where’s Birdie.” Pansy rolled her eyes, turning around the point at the person behind her. Only you weren’t there. Pansy turned in a circle, once, twice, three times before stopping and facing the men in front of her. “I swear, Mattheo, she was just here. She’s been by my side all night. We were dancing on each other not even five minutes ago.” Mattheo’s face grew hot, a sense of worry rushing over him that he’s never felt before for any kind of person, “What do you mean she was just here. Where the bloody fucking hell would she go?”

———-

You groaned lightly, your head pounding as you tried to sit up. The floor beneath you hard and cold, your outfit doing little for warmth. As you pushed yourself to a seated position you felt a weight in one of your wrists. Looking down you saw your wrist wrapped in a thick metal cuff, a chain attaching it, and effectively you, to the wall behind it. “What the fuck…” a low whisper left your lips as your eyes started to adjust to your surroundings. The floor below you was concrete, leaving a persistent chill running throughout your body. Around you seemed to be the layout of an old factory, abandon machinery and materials littered about the space. It was darker in the building, the emergency lights appearing to be the only functioning electricity around you.

Hugging your knees to yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to call out to Mattheo. You repeated his name, over and over and over. You groaned out in frustration, slapping the floor next to you, causing the chains to rattle. “Whatever it is you are trying to do will not work.” You stiffened, the sound of his voice was something you thought you had forgotten, but hearing it ring through your ears once more brought a flood of painful memories with it. You looked around, trying to anticipate the direction the voice was coming from, the the old walls of the factory had the sound reverberated from every direction. “You know I didn’t think you’d be knocked out this long. But then again, your drunken state must have heightened the effects of the Stupefy charm.”

You watched his figure emerge from the shadows, the fear you once felt quickly returning like a white hot burn all over your body. You scooted yourself back until you were nearly flat against the wall, your knees hugged to your chest as his name fell from your lips like a ghosted whisper, “Damiano…” He smiled, flashing all of his teeth like a snarling predator as he towered over you, “Hello, Sunshine. Did you miss me?” You stayed silently, trying to press yourself impossibly further away, leading him to let out a low and menacing chuckle. He squatted down to your level, forearms resting on his knees as he balanced himself on the balls of his feet. He reached out slowly, like he was going to touch your face. You turned quickly, swatting his hand away.

He smiled once more before grabbing your face harshly, forcing your gaze to meet his, “Don’t be like that, Sunshine. I’m being very nice only chaining one arm down, but if you misbehave I have no qualms doing the other.” You huffed out your nose, still refusing to speak to him. You closed your eyes once more, desperately trying to reach Mattheo, or anyone from the family for help. Damniano applied more pressure to his grip, surely leaving the beginning of what would be a bruise on your face when he was done. “I already told you…your little tricks your new boyfriend taught you aren’t going to work. I figured he was a legimens like his failure of a father. I put a spell on the building; he can’t hear you and you can’t hear him.” Your lip quivered slightly, a new sense of fear enveloping you.

Damiano tsked at you, “I knew it. I always knew you were a stupid, weak, little witch.” He let go of your face before swinging his palm and slapping your cheek with enough force to split your bottom lip. You gasped, coughing slightly to catch your breath again, spitting blood onto the cold stone before you. You glared at him, “You think I’m weak because I’m not like you? Abusing and torturing those that don’t agree or don’t do my bidding? Why am I even here, Damiano. What do you want with me?” He looked down at you once more, a devious smirk adorning his features, “This is why you’re stupid, Sunshine. Can you not see it? Godric, okay. Let me spell it out for you. I don’t want you. You’re nothing to me. Even when you were mine you were nothing, just a tool. And that’s what you are today. Well…more like…a tool.”

Your face fell, which only caused a laugh to emit from his throat, “Oh dear girl, don’t worry. We’re not going to kill you. But we’re going to make sure Mattheo and the rest of his little group get the message. He stole something valuable from me. You, Sunshine, were nothing, but your abilities were everything. I can’t just steal you back or he’ll sick his fucking dog Berkshire. Can’t have that can we? But what I can do, is send him a fucking message.” He drew his wand as he stood a few feet away from you. You held your breath, trying to prepare for whatever he was about to unleash, but nothing could help with what he casted. With a red light leaving the tip of his wand your body was instantly aflame with pain, your muscles and limbs contorting and squeezing with agony. Your breath felt like it was knocked from your lungs, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

Two more figures appeared beside Damiano, their wands also drawn and prepped for whatever torture they were directed with. After a few moments he broke the spell, grinning as you gasped for air and tried to hold your body up from the floor. “You know, I was really hoping you would scream. I sometimes find myself missing the sound of you squealing in pain when I used to punish you. No one has quite the same ring to it you had. Guess I’ll just have to up the intensity of it all. Boys,” he turned to his cronies on either side of him, “together this time.” In perfect unison the mumbled the spell together Crucio. Immediately your back arched off the floor, your arms and legs contorting awkwardly as the searing pain once again entered your body. A blood curdling scream left your throat, the sound nearly as defeating as the pain you were feeling. Your eyes rolled at the immense pain, your mind going blank.

As you felt like you were on the brink of passing out, Damiano instructed them all to stop. He turned to them once more, giving specific instructions, “I want you to rough her up a bit more, but don’t touch her face. I want her to be recognizable when they find her. The two men nodded before approaching you together. You managed to sit yourself up again, holding yourself up on wobbly arms. This position didn’t last as one of Damiano’s men quickly landed the heel of his boot to your shoulder, your collarbone cracking with the action. You flew back slightly at the action and collapsed on your back. You groaned in pain, clutching the area and turning to your side. The men began kicking you; in the stomach, in the ribs, in the back. You were a rag doll for their game of human football, barely audible grunts and moans slipping past your lips. “That’s enough,” Damniano’s voice rang out. You coughed, spitting out more blood that seemed to fill your mouth.

The two men left your side immediately, walking back to their previous positions to watch as Damiano approached you. He crouched over you again, taking your face in his hands. With his thumb he spread your blood over your lips, “I always did like red on you.” You tried to pull away, but your strength was null, “Like I said, Sunshine, you…are weak. But you were mine first. And I can’t let you, or anyone else, forget that.” He shoved you from his grip, you falling back down to the ground. You were limp on the cold concrete as Damiano lifted your skirt over your hips. You felt him grip the meat of your thigh closer to your hip before the tip of his wand began to dig into your skin with a white hot burn. A whimper left your throat as he carved into your skin; you could smell it burning. Once done he grabbed the back of your head, tilting your neck awkwardly so you could see his handiwork on your body. On the outside of your thigh, closer to your hip was a small symbol that would make it impossible for you to ever see it without thinking of Damiano. A sun.

A single tear fell down your cheek, Damiano leaning in and licking it off your face with a satisfied hum. “You know I love it when you cry, Sunshine. But I can’t stick around to watch. As soon as I’m gone, the blocking spells will be lifted. Then you can call your little dark lord boyfriend. You’re at 1538 Woodbury Lane in London. Really wish I could see his face when he finds you.” He pulled your skirt back down over your legs once more, patting your leg where he just carved your skin before walking away and apparating out of sight with a low popping noise. You waited a few moments, just to make sure he wasn’t coming back, before tightly shutting your eyes, your entire focus on Mattheo and anyone else in the family that might be able to hear you.

1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. You repeated the address over and over again until finally you heard him, We’re on our way, Princess, don’t move. You opened your eyes, at the sound of his voice, tears now flowing freely down your face. The irony of that statement ‘don’t move’ was not lost on you, causing a forced laugh from your lungs. With Mattheo’s confirmation that he was coming, you finally allowed your body to relax into the concrete below you. As if that was all the permission your body needed, your eyes felt heavy and soon, everything became dark.

#Protego series #mafia!matheo riddle #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!blaise zabini #mafia!enzo berkshire #mafia!theo nott #mafia!draco malfoy #mafia!pansy parkinson #Mattheo riddle x you #Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle angst #Mattheo riddle fic #mafia!au #mafia fic

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juuuulez · 6 months

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about the negan requests i don’t know if they’re still open but img i’ve been craving father!negan so bad recently i cantttt

i was just thinking like imagine how protective he’d be like he’d do anything for you and i’m imagining him killing people for you like if you were caught or taken for being his daughter and then bam he kills everyone. UGH i can’t hes so dad 💔💔

obv if you’re not up for it ignore this but i’d love to read it thabk you queen good night ❤️

info: Negan x Daughter! Reader, platonic hurt/comfort, kidnapping, torture, choking, omg sorry this was dark, but also sooo cute, he is father.

summary: After his daughter is kidnapped, Negan kills to get her back.

you are SO RIGHT he is absolutely so dad

i’ve left it open to interpretation, so you can decide if you’re his actual daughter or just a found family/adopted situation like my capulet series

this was soooo much fun to write, it got lowkey dark but i’ve been needing something grimy

“This isn’t going to work the way you think it will.”

You were currently trying to convince your stubborn captor that this whole kidnapping thing wasn’t going to play out well.

After a supply run gone wrong, you’d been taken by a member of a rival group, with the intention of getting leverage against the Saviours. Simultaneously, they attempted to get some cooperation out of you, figuring there was no better ransom than a begging daughter.

It was this strange, metal contraption. You were chained to a chair, by the hands and feet. A steel collar was fixed around your neck, with a rotating knob at the back, which upon movement, lessened the circumference, tightening the metal collar around your neck.

Because of this, you held little control of the situation. Your captor knew this, refusing to give in to your half-assed reasoning.

“I dunno, darlin’,” He chimed, the nickname sounding gross on an unfamiliar tongue, “I think this is workin’ pretty well.”

The man moves behind you, twisting the metal fidget, letting the collar close in on your neck. In response, you lift your head to try and gain any extra room, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to even breathe.

“Now, speak into the mic, babe. Make it sound genuine, we wanna really rile ‘em up.”

When you don’t respond, refusing to plead for your life, to be reduced to begging, he only tightens the contraption. You let out a strained noise, chewing down on your bottom lip, trying to breathe through your nose in hopes of staying conscious.

A burly hand comes into vision, clasping your nostrils closed, completely cutting off your airway. The knob ticks over a few more inches to the right, the sensation now becoming outright painful, harsh metal cutting into your flesh.

It’s all starting to get a little spotty, but you stand your ground. Last time, you’d passed out, and the process had simply started again from the beginning. But this wouldn’t wear you out. You were stronger, at least, you hoped you were.

Luckily, there’s the distant smash of glass, a whirr and pop noise wizzing past your face, eyes still clenched closed. Everything goes fuzzy, dark spots invading your vision, even as the silence erupts into groans of pain.

Your captor lays on the floor, bullet wound to the shoulder. One hand clasps the gun at his side, only for another shot to land right through his meaty wrist. There’s a slight commotion, but it all sounds like distant mumbles, drowned out by a cotton-like blanket of distortion.

“Load ‘em up. I’ll deal with him back home.”

The voice is familiar, but you don’t have the capacity to understand, still teetering on the edge of consciousness. Then, the confines around your neck are loosened, and suddenly you’re granted access to air again.

It’s all too much, too fast, the sharp inhale only worsening your dizzy state. You yank at your hands, wanting to soothe the painful gash along your neck, but find that the metal brackets still restrain your wrists.

“Hey, hey. Just breathe for me, baby-girl. Can you focus on that?”

Warm hands on your face, are the first thing you notice. Holding you still, so your head doesn’t slump over. You mentally note the absence of gloves, but don’t know what to do with this information, otherwise simply comforted by the air of safety provided.

Your vision comes back slowly, still all fuzzy at the edges, but you can make out what’s important. Negan, in front of you, kneeling. One hand is holding your face still, the other working at the cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

He’s bloody.

So, so bloody. It’s stained all over his leather jacket and jeans, splattered up his arms, likely the reason behind removing the gloves. Some is even on the side of his face, colouring the slight greyish hue of his stubble red.

It all snaps back to you in an instant, like suddenly you’ve gained awareness, fully conscious of everything that’s just happened.

You twist your head around, searching for the body of your captor, only to spot a bloody streak across the concrete floor. “Where is he?” You ask, breathless, throat all raspy and sore from being choked.

“Shh, it’s okay. He’s gone. Dwight’s putting him in the van,” Negan assures you, helping to shift you out of the metal chair, figuring your legs would hurt from being confined. “Wanna know what I’ll do to him?”

You find yourself nodding, head coming down to rest on Negan’s shoulder. He smooths his hand over your hair, nails gently scratching at your scalp, brushing the strands back. His other hand rests on your knees, trying to help stretch your muscles after being confined for so long.

“I’m gonna cut his tongue out, and let him choke on the blood,” Negan whispers into your ear, “Then, Lucille’s gonna smash every bone in his body, starting from the feet. Might leave just his head behind. Throw it out into the yard with the other walkers.”

It’s surprisingly relaxing, like you’re being told a quiet story, or a lullaby. Suddenly, the concrete floor is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever sat on, and even the stench of blood isn’t of concern. It’s all perfect.

“You’ll let me help?” You ask, a hopeful lilt to your tired voice.

Negan runs his hand down to your neck, thumb rubbing over the deep bruise marred over your skin. “No, baby. We’ll get you home and into bed. Let me handle this.”

You can’t find the strength to protest, not opposed to the idea of curling up in bed. Everything still felt hazy, and you were all lightheaded, so you doubted that you’d be much help, anyway.

So, Negan lifts you up into his arms, subsequently getting blood all over your clothes. Not that it mattered, anyway. You didn’t mind.

Having somebody who loves you enough to kill was plenty.

#negan smith x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd x you #negan smith #the walking dead #negan smith x you

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atopvisenyashill · 4 months

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Thoughts on the Alysanne is Maegor's daughter AU? I feel like it has some interesting potential, and it vastly recontextualizes different parts of Jaehaehae (I do not like him sjsjsjs) and Alysanne's relationship (such as Jaehaehae's treatment of their daughters) but I wanna hear what you think about it!

I’ve touched on this a bit before but since you actually want to hear my thoughts, allow me to present to you my Jaehaerys Is The Goddamn Worst, And Alysanne Annoys Me Too: An Essay lmao but my answer is basically “yeah all of what you just said.”

I think it makes Alysanne much more palatable (to me) as a character because as she stands, she just fixates on forcing her daughters through these fucked up marriages at too young an age bc it traumatized her to be married and pregnant at 15 too but she’d never admit that being a willing participant in her own kidnapping by her brother-husband was the single worst thing that ever happened to her, and because Alysanne doesn’t want to admit it (and Jaehaerys would never see it as wrong or a mistake) F&B really shies away from delving into the fact that Alysanne is as deranged of a mother as Cersei is. So as she stands, she’s very flat to me because she’s presented very flatly and inconsistently. She’s so in love with Jaehaerys, she’s maritally raped by Jaehaerys, she’s a loving and doting mother, she forces her daughters into marriages when they’re the same too young age she was, she accuses her teenage girls of being scheming whores then gets angry when her husband accuses their teenage girls of being scheming whores, and worst of all we are just told “Maegelle tells them to make up so they do” so we don’t know why Alysanne gets over all of this. What is the point of riding a dragon when you never use that dragon to protect your daughters from unwanted teen marriages? We’re just not given a good enough justification for why her behavior is so weird and frustrating towards her daughters.

Make her Maegor’s daughter though…most of her behavior as an adult makes more sense. Like a worse version of Rhaenyra’s childhood almost - a father desperate for a son, but lowkey obsessed with his daughter, who makes all his hang ups about his parents the problems of every woman around him, except Maegor is out here blood sacrificing and torturing and starting wars and forcing babies on wives he discards quickly and brutally. Then here comes Jaehaerys on a white horse green dragon to save her from the horror her life has become, and he loves her so much he runs away with her even though Alyssa says they shouldn’t marry because people won’t like it. And they have beautiful children, and a beautiful marriage, and build a beautiful kingdom.

Then her pregnancies start getting dangerous. Gaemon, then Valerion, die. Alysanne thinks of the shriveled up mutants she called brothers, if Maegor’s taint has passed to her. Her perfect husband ignores her no, and forces Gael on her. Alysanne remembers that he said nothing to Rogar when Alyssa died, merely wept. Then her daughters start to die. Daella, Alyssa, Viserra, all within a few years. Then Jaehaerys makes Saera watch as he murders her boyfriend, calls her a whore, and says Alysanne cannot follow Saera to Lys. Alysanne thinks of Maegor torturing the Harroways over Alys’ presumed infidelity. Jaehaerys says he’s sorry, and her daughter badgers her into forgiving him, and she remembers how she helped Jaehaerys badger Alyssa into forgiving Rogar. Not two years later, Jaehaerys passes over Rhaenys. Alysanne thinks of how she was never enough for her father, how she felt so superior to Rhaena banished to Dragonstone and resented by Aerea, yet there she is dragging Gael away from court because she can’t stand to be with Jaehaerys. How her father was surrounded by dead women and dead babies and how Jaehaerys is surrounded by his own dead daughters, but surely she did the right thing, surely Maegor was worse, surely the realm is better off? Is he right to pass over Rhaenys? Is she enabling a man just as monstrous as her father? She will never decide, because Maegelle will guilt her about keeping Gael isolated at Dragonstone, and Alysanne will do as she’s told, just like Rhaena, and Alyssa, and Jeyne, Elinor, Ceryse, Alys, and Tyanna, just like every one of her daughters.

I do get why Alysanne is Alyssa & Aenys’ and not Maegor’s. The weird Targ babies, the line not descending from Visenya, Jaehaerys and Alysanne being held up as the perfect Targaryen couple specifically because they are brother and sister and dragon riders. I do even think canon Alysanne is likely traumatized by her time as a hostage on Dragonstone, and the ensuing war, and the trauma bond that caused with Jaehaerys, and it makes her idolize Jaehaerys, and then he isolates her at Dragonstone so he can swiftly and safely marry, groom, and knock her up. It’s not like,,,, a fun time, and it’s enough to make anyone crazy and weird about their daughters, but I think having her father be Maegor makes Alysanne herself much deeper because it gives her, as the most beloved Targaryen queen, a blood tie to the most hated Targaryen king, and a marriage to the most beloved Targaryen king. It fits better with a lot of the themes of the main series (again, imo) - forcing the spotlight on the outsiders to see how the affect the story from behind the scenes. The fall of Aegon’s sons, and The Long Reign, not told from the PoV or to serve the PoV of any of the kings or princes, but of the queen that tied them all together.

#anti jaehaerys i targaryen #f&b critical #fire and blood critical #asks #thesadboy #like he kind of does this with aenys & maegor by focusing on alyssa and rhaena and the wives and visenya.#but the Moment jaehaerys enters the scene he completely dominates it. the same way daemon and aemond do actually.#but this is not. it should not!! be their story. that’s not how the main series is told anyway!!#if f&b isn’t told by a dornish maester than it should have been written by a septa!!!#nuns wrote books!!!!!#rich noblewomen wrote novels and poetry!!!!!!!#GEORGE DO YOU READ WOMEN. I AM NO LONGER ASKING POLITELY.#i went to look for her mother and apparently this was just a mistake elio made and i’m even more depressed. i can’t believe i’m saying this #but elio damn your mind.#i bet he saw that and went ‘wait which one is her fucjing mother’ and george was like what in the goddamn hell are you talking about.#idk who would be her mother in this au. if we want to keep her within 3 ish years of jaehaerys it Has to be alys or ceryse. ceryse hightowe #is the hilarious and obvious choice. but don’t count out alys harroway second wife here either.#then there’s rhaena as her mother which with the canon timeline makes him 12 years older and isn’t THAT horrible let’s stop here actually.

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comradekatara · 1 month

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It’s me again, and I’ve got another ask for ya @comradekatara

And no stupid pol meme’s that I gave only a cursory glance too and stupidly screenshotted this time!

I’ve seen a few of your post (at least I think it was your’s) about LOK. So I was wondering. In regard to the main villains, who is your least favorite/most disliked?

And what would you change about their motivations and perhaps their “villainous” means to make them a more compelling and/or sympathetic character?

lol this is a pretty big ask. i mean basically every villain in lok is completely incoherent thematically, politically, ideologically. people will call amon a communist but he doesn’t actually give a shit about economics or class in any capacity. people call unalaq a theocrat but as far as im aware he isn’t exploiting people’s spiritual faith to gain power, (maybe that’s what he was doing at first, but) he literally wants to submerge the world into “darkness” for one million years for… reasons and purposes. unalaq/vaatu is by far the worst lok villain, but that’s not even saying much because it’s so patently ridiculous and cartoonish. the red lotus are actually compelling but they also love chaos for the sake of chaos (because anarchism!) and want to violently murder a teenage girl and hold a genocided people hostage to do so (despite zaheer’s supposed respect for air nomads). and kuvira is an ethnonationalist who declares herself emperor, so i guess she’s at least a somewhat coherent portrait of a real type of person who actually exists, but the fact that the fascist despot is the ONLY character who points out that republic city was built on colonized earth kingdom land is um….. not a great look?

and then side characters like tarrlok, hiroshi, varrick, queen hou-ting, suyin(???), wu(???) who aren’t really the primary villains even though in many ways they’re more ideologically coherent, are just also kind of weird for their ambiguous framing. like hou-ting is literally kidnapping airbenders and putting them in underground labor camps where they’re tortured and ruthlessly trained into forming an army, which is something that chaisee does in the yangchen novels and is regarded as utterly reprehensible and heinous for it (because it is), whereas we’re supposed to feel bad for hou-ting when she dies because murder is bad uwu. and we’re supposed to forgive hiroshi for [checks notes] attempted filicide. and varrick is just some fun wacky little guy who is a ruthlessly amoral capitalist but also he does the charleston! and isn’t him marrying his overworked, exploited assistant cute?? and not at all grossly misogynistic and horrifying???? LOL!

so i don’t think going through every villain and antagonist individually and imbuing them with depth is really a worthy use of time, since the show largely suffers from incoherence due to the fact that it isn’t cohesive at all. besides korra’s character development (which is excellent), there’s no real central idea that ties every season together. take atla instead: it’s a very linear narrative, with an established goal that is always being worked towards and once it’s ultimately completed, the show ends. lok has no idea what that central goal is. so instead of trying to fix every character, it’s better to work from the center out and first simply define that goal. the central political tension in lok is, fundamentally, a question of whether it is better to alter the status quo in various radical ways, or whether it is better to maintain the violently upheld hegemonic norm by virtue of it being the status quo (and spoiler alert, it’s the latter!). and these radical ways, whether it be the terrorist movement of a fraudulent right wing populist dictator, or the terrorist movement of a bunch of commies, is always presented as equally dangerous and in need of korra’s gaggle of cops, liberals, and capitalists to suppress. what a great show.

however, the lok that lives in my head does away with most of that, and simply focalizes the conflict between the white lotus and the red lotus as diametrically opposing forces both vying to control korra’s position in the world as avatar and reconstitute her legacy on their terms. because korra’s arc is fundamentally about learning to define her selfhood and her role in the world on her own terms, and the one commonality between every villain is that they’re trying to suppress or control her identity in some way. because it’s also, incidentally, a show primarily concerned with the value of identity politics, and doesn’t actually give a shit about any of the class struggles that underpin the show’s worldbuilding and inform so many of its primary characters. so while i’m not opposed to korra’s struggle of identity, and in fact appreciate it a lot and find it personally affirming in multiple ways, korra deserves a show that is actually worthy of her brilliance as a character.

it’s not that korra shouldn’t struggle to establish her identity on her own terms, but that the politics through which they attempt to communicate this struggle are incoherent. so i would simply reframe the conflict as one primarily between the white lotus, who are reformist liberals at best, and neoconservative reactionaries at worst. we see the best of the white lotus in atla (arguably), and the worst of the white lotus in the yangchen novels (which are fascinating and excellent and everyone should read them). xai bau is only ever mentioned in a single exposition dump (in one of the only truly great episodes of lok, i might add), but his philosophy and role in the narrative is nonetheless fascinating to me. the idea that the white lotus becomes more public facing after the war, leading to its detractors also growing more vocal, is genuinely interesting. the conflicts established between the white and red lotuses are genuinely compelling (to a point). but they never truly address how the white lotus kept korra locked away in a compound for the first 17 years of her life, they never meaningfully address the harm the white lotus has done to her and to the world.

like, of course korra couldn’t master airbending, the element of freedom, if she’s never been truly free. korra spent her entire life in a gilded cage, her role in the world and legacy defined for her by liberals who wanted her to be some kind of supercop instead of a genuine spiritual leader. it’s not korra’s fault that spirituality and harmony and meditation are difficult for her, she was literally denied those facets of herself for her entire adolescence. the white lotus constitute a microcosm of the ruthless neoliberal society korra encounters when first arriving in republic city. the white lotus are a metonym for the liberal identity politics centrist reformist vision of the world that lok uncritically presents as the ideal. in a better show, korra would question those systems, disavow them, and even perhaps attempt to dismantle them. korra would define her freedom of self on her own terms by realizing the ways in which the white lotus and their broader ideology has harmed her.

that said, the red lotus is also flawed. and i don’t just mean because they’re chaos-hungry terrorists who love to murder with impunity, but because they’re in the business of denying korra’s agency as a human being and not simply as the avatar. they want korra dead because they don’t believe in the role she embodies. and you know, they can want that for understandable political reasons without being completely evil about it, but obviously in a show as facile and shallow as lok, no they can’t. i think that korra’s brief pause in considering zaheer’s point of view should have lasted longer. i think that korra should have become disillusioned by the white lotus and the stipulations of capitalism (as early as book 1, frankly), and she should have genuinely considered joining them. and once she does eventually disavow them too, it’s not because of their evil commie politics, but because they’re also in the business of dictating her role in the world, and korra can’t stand to be boxed in by anyone, certainly not from people who claim to be in the business of dissolving borders.

so pretty much every villain in lok would fall under either the umbrella of white lotus operatives (whether direct or indirect) or red lotus (whether direct or indirect). people who want korra to be the world’s ultimate cop who upholds the systems that benefit them, or people who think that the avatar has no place in a truly just world, for (honestly) kind of valid reasons. the red lotus would be antagonists who work against korra’s arc of establishing her own freedom and agency, but the white lotus would be the “villains.” and the capitalist juggernauts who mistreat and exploit their workers (and their assistants and their daughters etc etc) would not be let off the hook so easily either. the neocolonial tensions in republic city wouldn’t be framed as an issue of the distant past. the issues of class and colonialism would be foregrounded alongside korra’s struggle to establish her identity. and then, perhaps, the narrative would finally cohere.

#745voiceofthepeople #asks #lok crit #analysis #korra #white lotus #red lotus #oh lok that lives in my head…… save me korra save me…..

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depravitycentral · 9 months

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Yandere Machi Komacine General Profile

Yandere! Machi Komacine x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, violence, decapitation, murder, slight infantilization/Machi thinks you're incapable but it's more frustrating than creepy, Machi has some emotional issues processing and she can't regulate her feelings well, mentions of assault, mentions of non-con, Chrollo plays a major role in your kidnapping because he's a nasty man, threats, explicit depictions of torture, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

Shy

In general, Machi likes the idea of being a protector.

There’s something endearing about the idea of having a sweet little thing to call her own and to keep hers, and having a darling who isn’t as prone to interacting with others is ideal for her. It helps quell her possessiveness, acting as an additional comfort to know that they don’t willingly start interactions with most people.

Plus, this is helpful for her, specifically, because it means that her darling won’t be constantly trying to talk to her.

It’s not that Machi doesn’t want to speak with them – she does, desperately – but rather that it’s so difficult for her to be vulnerable that a darling that isn’t excessively talkative to strangers helps bar her from saying something embarrassing or weird or scary.

It helps calm her nerves, knowing that her darling is more withdrawn and struggles to effectively communicate with strangers, and in a lot of ways it makes Machi’s heart warm.

Because in some ways, they’re similar – Machi isn’t shy, per se, but she’s not the most talkative, and a darling who shares this trait is adorable to her, someone she wants to wrap up in her arms and keep protected from the world.

(And keep the world from seeing them, of course, but that doesn’t sound quite as poetic or romantic.)

She just likes the idea of a shier darling, not only because their easily flustered state in social situations is endearing, but also because it makes her job much, much easier.

Optimistic

In a lot of ways, Machi wants someone who is the opposite of her.

She needs someone who is soft, warm, fuzzy, and – above all else – not nearly as pessimistic as her.

Machi has good reason to be so negative – a tumultuous childhood coupled with a life of crime hardens a person and makes them expect the worst case scenario, but even she can admit that there’s something endearing about a darling who sees the world with rose colored glasses.

It’s refreshing, something she’s utterly unfamiliar with given her lifestyle and companions, but it’s sweet in a way.

Perhaps a bit naïve of them – something that makes Machi silently scold them for – but cute nonetheless.

It’s like her darling is a ray of sunshine, one she desperately needs to keep her from falling into a void of negative thoughts, death, and theft.

And really, it’s this trait above all else that prompts her infatuation to form – her darling is just so damn positive, always trying to make the best of situations, even to a degree of irritation.

It makes Machi want to throttle them, anger growing in her veins because they need to be more realistic about others’ intentions, if only for their own safety.

But it also makes her want to envelope them in the tightest hug, keeping them firmly against her chest and hearing their soft breaths and warm voice, her skin prickling pleasantly because it feels so good to have someone so happy in her arms.

It makes her happy, too – no easy feat.

Homebody

Similarly to her ideal darling being shy, Machi really likes the idea of a darling who isn’t constantly out on the town.

She has no inherent issues with women who like to club or party or even frequently go out for a meal or drinks with friends, but for her darling, a homebody is preferable.

It’s simply a matter of Machi feeling confident that her darling is being safe – if they’re at home, the chances of them being assaulted or killed or mugged is significantly lower, and it helps quell the constant paranoia that eats at her regarding her darling’s wellbeing.

It means they’ll probably be wrapped up in a warm blanket with their phone perched in their hands, or the TV on, or a good book holding their attention rather than meeting someone, potentially speaking with them, dancing with them, or – god forbid – touching them.

(It hurts her deeply to imagine someone touching her darling, of course, but there’s something worse about the idea of her darling touching someone else – a sense of foreboding and anger over their safety, of course, but also a sense of rejection, a feeling of deep-seated and buried insecurity washing over her.)

And this just makes life easier once she eventually steals them away; it’s much easier to mitigate any sort of escape attempt or desire to return to the outside world if her darling is naturally not especially eager to be in crowded spaces.

Besides, Machi doesn’t mind the idea of spending time at home with them – give her time, but eventually she’ll be more than happy to sit beside them on the couch, a few inches of space between her body and her darling’s, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and the feeling of simply being together.

It’s cheesy and cliché and she knows it, but she doesn’t care – her darling turns her into a sap anyways, so what’s another addition to that sentiment?

Capable

Of course, as Machi’s darling, you’d never, ever have to worry about any sort of personal care.

She’ll do absolutely everything for her beloved; she’s already got their favorite foods stocked in the cabinets (but only the healthier ones – her darling can’t be having too much sugar or salt, no matter how much they like it), enough menstrual supplies to last the rest of her darling’s life, and more blankets and fans than imaginable to keep her darling at a comfortable temperature and not overheat or freeze.

She likes the idea of taking care of her darling, and while they’ll never be able to escape this aspect of being the object of her affections, Machi does like the idea that her darling is somewhat able to take care of themselves.

She likes the idea that they aren’t utterly incapable, that they’re able to do the bare minimum to make sure they stay healthy and in reasonably good physical health, with minimal scratches and injuries marring their pretty skin.

It calms her slightly when she’s still initially just stalking them, her worries and anxieties calming slightly every time she sees them drinking water or stepping into the shower.

It just makes her feel good, and while she’ll still oversee all their care once they’re under her captivity, it almost makes a small swell of pride bloom in her chest because yes, they know how to take care of themselves, and yes, that’s wildly attractive to her.

A capable darling is her ideal – and likely a major part of what attracts her to her darling in the first place.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Distant

In general, Machi has an incredibly difficult time being vulnerable.

She’s grown up under the impression that to show any sort of love or softness is a weakness, something that can be exploited and will ultimately be her downfall. It’s led to her being closed off, holding her emotions so close to her chest that sometimes she doesn’t even realize what she’s feeling, becoming so blinded by the need to hide her emotions that they almost disappear.

And where romance is concerned is certainly no different – though, there’s certainly no way to mistake or miss the emotions you spark within her, coming up and rising up the back of her throat and demanding her attention all the fucking time.

She’s completely floored by how intensely you make her feel, how fast her heart races around you, how her palms grow sweaty and her nen spikes ever so slightly in your presence, and to be honest Machi hates it at first. She hates how weak you make her feel, how her every sense is heightened the second you walk into a room, and while she knows it’s stupid to blame you for the way her body just seems to react to you, she can’t help it.

She’s never been the best at displaying emotion or really even reconciling how she feels at any given moment, and for a long time she pushes off her feelings for you, playing them off as nothing more than a passing interest, a few ‘she’s cute and that’s it’s being pounded into her mind.

(All the while she tries to ignore the way she wants nothing more than to make you laugh and smile, to see your eyes light up and hear that lovely chiming voice you have directed solely at her.)

(The whole time she’s trying to pretend like her eyes don’t automatically wander to you, focusing in on your hair, face, figure, and oh, when you wear that certain top with the low neckline… It’s embarrassing how strongly such a simple article of clothing can affect her, and it’ll often make her huff and desperately try to stop staring, glaring at anyone nearby just as a distraction from her racing heart and pink cheeks.)

And even once she eventually realizes that repressing those urges and emotions for you only make them stronger, she does no better at letting herself really succumb to them – she’s fighting tooth and nail, terrified of the way you make her feel, of the depth and intensity of the feelings that you give her without you even trying.

She’s honestly afraid of herself in moments where her desire for you grows stronger – every part of herself seems foreign once you step into the picture, even her most basic emotional responses to things like blankets (would you like this blanket? It’s soft, and she knows you like the color – you’d look stupid all wrapped up in it, though. Stupid. Cute. But stupid.), or even frying pans (would you let her cook for you? She’s decently talented in the kitchen, and while she’d be too embaressed to watch you eat something she herself made you, the pride that would swell in her chest makes looking at the nice, black, shiny frying pan in the store a little flustering.)

She’s afraid of her urges to care for you and protect you because you’re so fucking weak compared to her. She’s never been this nice before, this caring or genuinely invested in the wellbeing of someone outside of possibly Chrollo or a few other members of the Troupe, and the realization that hits her late one night as she’s staring aimlessly up at the ceiling (her mind running in circles around you as it so often does) startled her to her very core.

You bring out the side of Machi that she’d buried down so many years ago, that was only alive when she was very young, stupidly foolish and naively willing to hope against hope that someday she’d find someone to love, someone to be happy with and live a full, perfect life.

You make a piece of her that’s long been lost return, and once she understands that she has to face this new part of her head on, that she can’t keep turning a blind eye because it’s literally killing her to not give into the urges and feelings this new part of her is impressing, Machi is pulling back even further, trying to wade through the thick waters of her own feelings and wants.

And poor, poor you will be left to wonder why she always seems so angry, why she always seems to be glaring at you, one step away from killing you. She must hate you, you rationalize, and when you begin trying to act more colloquial and not as friendly or sweet as before, it’ll only further Machi’s confusion and the swirling of emotions brewing inside her.

It will only further her internal battle about whether it’s okay to let herself be vulnerable (as long as it’s for you, there’s a large part of Machi that thinks she could be anything and everything so long as it makes you happy), or only further her distant behavior.

It’s a miscommunication that Machi isn’t sure how to fix, and while she’ll eventually grow warmer towards you, let herself get more and more vulnerable around you, it’s a slow process – one that can only happen in the context of her being around you constantly, something that sounds simultaneously terrifying and wonderful beyond belief.

Selfless

Despite her internal wavering on whether it’s really okay to embrace the sick dependency she’s developed on you and against everything she’s ever tried to be, there is one thing that Machi is absolutely sure about.

That is, she will be making sure that you live the easiest life you possibly can.

She genuinely cares about you, and Machi is fiercely protective of the very few that she holds near and dear to her heart – and you, being the one who very much holds her heart, become the apple of her eye, her main focus in her day-to-day life outside of Troupe work.

She knows that as a member of the Troupe, she’s putting you in danger simply by existing in your presence, and with her feelings towards you being so strong, so painfully obvious?

Well, it’s a worry constantly eating at the back of her mind that someday you’ll be used against her, that you’ll be leverage or that someone will hurt you (or, god forbid kill you) just to get back at her and the rest of the organization.

There’s a constant sense of paranoia Machi feels when she thinks about all of the horrible, unforgiveable acts she’s committed, because while her conscience doesn’t harbor any guilt, she does harbor guilt towards you, because she’s now made you a target. She’s effectively placed a bulls eye on your back, and while it may be difficult for everyday strangers to tell that Machi harbors feelings for you, those committed to the downfall of the organization will be able to tell.

(Her longing looks and the way her nen gets a bit unpredictable around you are dead giveaways – you don’t notice, bless sweet little you, but the Hunter that’s been trailing the Troupe’s activities for the last few months will. And despite all the moral high ground the Hunters seem to tout about having, Machi knows for a fact that your death would be a welcome sacrifice in order to hurt the Spider.)

She’s painfully aware of all your flaws in terms of defending yourself in the position she’s placed you in, and the thought honest to god terrifies Machi. The guilt at knowing you’re constantly in danger because of her is almost too much to bear, and the only way she can help alleviate some of it is by becoming your guardian angel of sorts.

(It’s ironic, truly, and it’s something that she would rather die than admit, but despite her criminal status she’s actually a good force for you – at least, she hopes so.)

She does a lot for you behind your back.

Some are large favors, things that take up a decent amount of her time and effort, but she doesn’t mind because it’s for you.

(That group of men who’d been eyeing you up on your walk home from the subway station? Well, they aren’t exactly smart, are they, when they so blindly and naively follow Machi into a dark alleyway, their leering gazes and hands poised to grope making their deaths a much slower and more painful process than she’d normally bother with. After all, she knows exactly what they were planning on doing; the crude whistling and licking of their lips not hiding their intentions especially well. And although she’d never touch you without your eager consent – and perhaps not even then – she’s well aware of their intentions because she wants to touch you and fuck that cute cunt of yours, too.)

Some are smaller favors, things that aren’t too big of a deal but make Machi feel better about endangering your life, because at least she’s trying to better it, too.

(It takes hardly any time or effort at all to slip a vitamin or two into your drinks or food, just because she’s noticed you’ve looked a bit more tired these last few days, that there’s bags starting to form under your eyes, and how could she possibly live with herself if you were being neglected under her care? Besides, she knows you wouldn’t go out and buy these things for yourself – or at least not with the consistency you really should have.)

You likely won’t notice anything at first – Machi is a part of the Troupe for a reason, and though she doesn’t possess Shizuku’s abilities, she’s most definitely able to not leave a trace. So by the time you start noticing how there seems to be a steady supply of vegetables in your refrigerator that you don’t remember buying (only your favorites, of course), or when your bottles of shampoo and conditioner never seem to run out, Machi will have already been at her job of making sure that you’re well taken care of for months.

She doesn’t particularly want you to know that she’s the one so diligently taking care of you, if only because she’s still so afraid of the intensity of her feelings for you, and she’s scared that if you were to know how deeply she feels for you, how much she absolutely fucking loves you, you would run for it and never step foot in her life again.

You would reject her, something that she’s never had to face in her life, and something she hopes she never will have to – especially not from you.

She doesn’t want you to have any inkling for the way that she feels for you, at least rationally.

(Internally, however, she can’t deny how wonderful it would be to have you safe and sound in a shared home with her, protected and well fed, happy and comfortable and being oh so cute while you greet her at the door, welcoming her home from work and telling her how much you love her… It’s a guilty pleasure thought, one that often hits her as she goes about getting her hands dirty all for you, and as she stares at the lifeless corpse of the man who’d made a joke that he’d ‘hit that’ in regards to you to his friends, she can’t help but smile a bit.)

You make her happy – nervous, yes, and paranoid, true, but also this warm, burrowing feeling she knows is happiness. It’s a foreign thing that she isn’t completely sure she’ll ever get used to, but fuck it all if she doesn’t want to try.

So really, isn’t it only fair that she gives you something in return for everything you give her, even if you don’t know it?

Possessive

Despite the cloudiness that rests in Machi’s mind about how exactly she feels about you, one thing she is sure about is the anger that flares up in her chest when she thinks of another person interacting with you.

There’s something about the idea that makes her jaw get tight, her teeth pushing tightly together and her shoulders getting stiff because you should not be speaking with someone else.

She loves you in her own twisted, obsessive way, but in many ways Machi finds you irritating. You’re weak, you’re naïve, and god, how can you take your own safety and health so casually?

You’re incapable, if she’s being honest, because you’re simply unaware of how truly cruel the world can be. You live in your own glass cage, under the false assumption that the glass will never crack or splinter, that nothing will ever hurt you or affect you in a negative way – and while Machi takes as many precautions to keep this fantasy alive, it doesn’t negate the fact that you’re wrong.

You think you’re safe, sure, but you really need her, don’t you? If it wasn’t for her, you’d probably be dead by now, either by some wayward criminal, a magical beast, a Hunter, an accident, a stranger with nefarious intentions, or your own stupidity.

It’s cynical and mean and frankly not true, but Machi firmly believes that the only thing standing between you and certain death is herself. And while she still doesn’t want you to be aware that she’s the one protecting you and keeping you safe and healthy, she does start to grow a bit antsy when other people enter the picture.

In her perfect world, she would simply be caring for you and taking care of you from the shadows for the rest of your lives – your silent savior, content with the knowledge that you need her, and being needed is enough for her. At least, she thinks so.

But the world isn’t perfect, and you aren’t aware of her feelings – so of course, there are people who try to take advantage of your kindness, of your beauty and charity and naivety.

And when this happens, Machi finds herself very, very upset. Jealousy roils deep within her, making her fists clench and her eye twitch and narrow. It makes her nen spike and her aura become oppressive, her rage struggling to stay under control when she sees anyone looking at you, speaking with you, or just being near you.

It’s about your safety, more than anything – she does genuinely fear that every person you interact with has bad intentions towards you, and that in itself is neither particular delusional nor particularly surprising. Surely some of them want something more than just a polite greeting from you – hell, Machi’s been pursued by more men than she can count that most definitely wanted more and weren’t afraid to force what they wanted.

But can Machi really be blamed for being possessive over you? She’s grown up with absolutely nothing to her name – scavenging for food, living in dismal conditions, dealing with very real adult issues, and surviving against terrible odds. She’s turned towards the path of power and materialistic gain, and while she doesn’t explicitly see herself as owning you, there’s a certain allure to the idea of calling you hers.

You’re her partner – her woman, hers to care for, hers to love, hers hers hers.

And so yes, it’s about your safety, and yes, it’s understandable why she would grow attached to you in response to her origins, but there’s also a small part of her that grows horribly jealous every time someone interacts with you because it’s them, not her.

How come they have the confidence to speak with you, but she doesn’t?

(Of course, she’s interacted with you a few times before – back when her obsession had taken root, the very interactions that led her to her current state – but it’s different when it’s purposeful interaction, when she’s looking at you and your attention is on her. Why is it so hard to speak to you? Why do you make her so nervous, her fingers not visibly shaking but still having the same affect? Why do her words always sound harsh, demanding, blunt when she’s speaking with you, not a hint of the warmth or longing she feels for you? Why do you always seem to jump a bit and sheepishly nod at her commands, looking terrified and anxious and scared? Why can’t she just talk to you like normal, dammit?

How come they can so casually get you to laugh, but she can’t?

(She’s never been funny, even when she’s not feeling like her tongue is swelled up and her heart is on fire. She tries so hard to keep her cool around you and not give away anything about how she’s feeling for you, and that doesn’t exactly translate into being funny. And yet, she does find herself wishing that she’d thought of the joke the stranger on the bus had told you about the weather this morning, because while it was stupid and you’d only laughed a polite amount, why won’t you do that for her?)

How come they can so easily and organically reach out to brush your cheek or tap your arm, but she can’t?

(She’s petrified of touching you, despite wanting to so badly, and the most you’ll get from her for a long, long time is just quick, phantom touches of her fingers against your clothed back when you’re busy doing something, her skin barely even brushing the fabric of your shirt. It’s just too hard, too scary to let herself be in a position where you could reject something as intimate and loving as a touch – it leaves her too vulnerable, so what does she do? Repress it.)

It's a certain amount of insecurity that fuels her possessiveness, which simultaneously frustrates and scares her. She’s never been unconfident – she can kill dozens of fully grown men in mere seconds, can heal impossible wounds, and is an integral member of an elite criminal organization.

But you – you make her insecure. And it’s stupid and makes her scoff and cross her arms, but she can’t deny it. Despite her numerous, numerous attempts.

So really, Machi’s possessiveness is not to be overlooked – whether it’s paranoia, greed, or insecurity fueling it, it can have disastrous consequences. She will kill those she feels threatened by, and she does not care if that person holds value to you.

She’s your guardian angel, sure, but some angels fall – whether from heaven or for you is arbitrary.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Her jealousy is nothing to sneeze at, despite the fact that she isn’t as obvious and in your face as some of her fellow Troupemates.

She won’t yell and punch like Phinks, nor will she threaten and coddle like Nobunaga. Rather, she’ll let her jealousy simmer, slowly growing stronger and stronger, making her feel hotter and hotter until she explodes, unable to take another second of you being looked at by another person.

And so while Machi generally is of the mindset of ‘if it doesn’t involve me, then I don’t care’, where you’re concerned her entire philosophy is uprooted, if only because she absolutely believes that everything involving you involves her as well.

It’s her duty as your protector, as your loving partner – even if you aren’t aware – and she intends to hold up her end of the deal, to make sure that no one and nothing can ever touch you or harm you.

And so, she takes every precaution she can to make sure that no one ever gets to chance to spark her jealousy.

She watches each and every interaction of yours that she possibly can, often trailing behind you with those sharp eyes alternating between staring at you and sizing up all the people around you to catch anyone in their tracks who may cause problems.

(Shalnark had been quite generous in giving Machi a specially designed tracker just for you, already calibrated to your minimal nen aura so that it would stay true to you no matter where you went. She’d been grateful, though the blond hadn’t let her get away without a bit of teasing about how oooh, you’ve got a crush, don’t you Machi! She’s embarrassed to admit that she very faintly blushed at his words, swatting him down with a roll of her eyes and hissed fuck off, but the excitement of having a way to know where you are at all times even during Troupe work outweighed the irritation coursing through her veins).

She’s using her nen threads to keep your clothing in place while you’re out and about – making sure your skirt stays put or your top stays up, anything and everything to make sure that not a sliver of skin is shown to the prying eyes of those around you.

(Of course, a small part of her wishes your skirt would flip just a bit or the top of your areola would be just barely visible, if only for her viewing pleasure, but it’s more important that the men you walk by on the street don’t see anything. Much more important.)

She just feels responsible to make sure that you don’t have any negative contact with anyone (though ideally there’d be no contact of any kind, including positive), and she takes her duties very seriously, even going so far as to spend nearly every waking moment she has outside of Troupe work a good ten feet behind you, her eyes fixed on you like prey.

And after all, isn’t that a little representative of your relationship? You, the naïve, cute little thing being stalked and followed and wanted by something bigger, stronger, more dangerous and much, much more adept at simply taking what they want.

When she spots the man chatting you up in the local park you’d been walking through as a means to clear your head, immediately her nen is spiking up, her eyes narrowing as she stays hidden behind a nearby tree and watches the two of you speak.

He’s nothing special by any counts – generic, a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt appropriate for the hot summer weather. His face is fine, all things considered, but there’s nothing particularly special about him – you wouldn’t look twice, she’s sure.

Except, you must have looked twice, because he’s standing in front of you, that irritating, ugly smile plastered on his face that makes her own lips tug into a deep frown, her teeth clenched tightly together.

And on top of that, you don’t seem to be mad at all. In fact, she can see the smile on your own face – much, much prettier, endearing, beautiful, something that momentarily traps her focus.

She’s not sure why you’re acting so happy – what could possibly be that funny about the terrible jokes this stranger is telling you?

What could this boring, useless waste of space be to you that makes you grin like you’re the happiest woman on Earth?

(Why didn’t you look like that when she first randomly met you on the street? Was this man better?)

Machi doesn’t get it, but she knows that it’s making her more than a little upset - more than a little pissed, really, as the man takes a small step forward, beginning to close the space between the two of you.

Her eye twitches as she watches you make no move to step back, and though her heart sinks like a stone when she realizes that maybe you want him to be that close to you, she briefly shakes her head, pink hair whipping her in the face as she wills herself to concentrate, to have enough patience to wait until you’re done talking to do what her fingers are aching for.

It’s torture, simply watching this interaction play out, her whole body begging for her to move and every muscle tensing in anticipation of physically breaking up your conversation, but she wills herself to stay put, closing her eyes and taking a few deep, unsteady breaths through her nose.

Fantasies and thoughts of how she could end the man’s life flash through her mind, helping kill a bit of time.

And the second that you walk off, throwing a small smile the man’s way along with a shy little wave that Machi would give fucking anything to be aimed at her, she’s making her move.

The man smirks and tucks his hands into his pocket, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as Machi murmurs curses under her breath, promises of death and words of hate tumbling past her lips as she tracks the man down past a bundle of trees on the opposite side of the park, well hidden from the view of the other patrons and – most importantly – yourself.

Once the man steps into the little forest and leans against a tree, she’s springing into action, her movements so quick that even she herself is shocked.

She charges at the man and has him tied up in less than three seconds flat, her hand placed firmly over the man’s mouth with a glare harsh enough to paralyze directed right into his brown eyes. Her aura’s crushing, the man’s body physically pushed against the tree hard enough to leave a slight dent in the bark.

His whimpers of pain make something in her gut twist pleasantly.

You’re disgusting, she growls, threads tightening more and more as she lets her anger begin to consume her.

Flashes of the way you’d smiled and laughed at the man come rushing through her mind, fueling the rage and hurt simmering in her chest.

Disgusting, worthless, don’t you know that some girls don’t want you? Couldn’t you see that she’s too fucking perfect for someone like you?

She knows she’s probably talking more than she should, more than this man deserves, but there’s something about the look of pure terror in the man’s eyes and the way he struggles against her threads that makes the blood rush to her head.

When he doesn’t respond, only wiggling harder and harder, Machi only clicks her tongue and, with a flick of her wrist, tightens the thread around the man’s neck enough that it slices it clean off.

The dull thump of his head landing on the ground next to her has her wiping her hands against her tunic in irritation, a small amount of his blood having sprayed onto her pale fingers, but she can’t deny the satisfaction of seeing the man who was so openly flirting with you dead and bloody now – just as he should be, for ever thinking he’d have a chance at getting at you while Machi’s around.

She gives a firm kick to the man’s groin, now slumped down onto the ground alongside the rest of his decapitated body, before spitting onto it.

And so, after shooting a quick text to Shizuku to ask her to come clean up a body (Shizuku’s response of why would I do that? had the pink haired girl rolling her eyes), Machi makes quick work of locating you via the tracker, making sure to follow you home and ensure that no other creeps try anything with you, lest they meet the fate of Machi and Blinky.

Chrollo can scold her all he wants for the body she leaves behind – it’s worth it, the satisfaction simmering in her veins making her feet carry herself faster and faster, the tracker slowly beeping faster as she gets closer to you.

TAKING HER DARLING AWAY:

In most regards, Machi values the idea of you being your own, semi-independent person.

She does a whole hell of a lot for you in the shadows, but she isn’t particularly fixated on stealing you away or kidnapping you. Part of the reason why she fell for you in the first place was because of who you are, and there’s a worry eating at the back of her mind that if she were to force you into a relationship or take you away from your life, you would no longer be the person she’s come to love, the person she’s come to live solely for.

It’s scary, the concept that you could just be gone, that her selfishness could be the reason why the glimmer in your eyes fades, or why you no longer smile and laugh so hard you snort a bit.

So while the idea of stealing you away and making sure that you’re constantly protected, safe from the outside world and the horrible people inhabiting it (people like her and the Troupe, she’ll admit) is appealing, she won’t ever make a move to imprison you with her unless an outside force comes into play.

She’s just too nervous and hesitant, because although what she currently has now with you isn’t ideal (the fact that you aren’t under her constant supervision or just within reach to touch – if she ever got brave enough to do so, that is – is certainly not her dream), it’d be even less ideal to have you a shell of your former self.

And those outside forces rally could be just about anything – if it threatens you in some way, she’ll begrudgingly decide that stealing you away is the only possible option.

For example, if someone were to figure out her connection to you; she’s worked tirelessly to make sure that any trace of her obsession with her and her feelings is invisible, to the point where not even anyone in the Troupe is aware of your identity.

(Some, like Shizuku and Shalnark, are aware that there’s someone that’s got Machi all up in knots, that she’s willing killing for and wants to keep constant surveillance on. Otherwise, Machi wouldn’t have just asked Shalnark about the best quality cameras that can be easily concealed available on the market – and she’d been blushing, even, a very light pink on her cheeks that made him stare for a moment, gaping like a fish because who the hell could you possibly be to affect Machi so much? Shizuku, for her part, just knows there’s something a little different about her fellow member – Machi’s smiling more, and while Shizuku is forgetful, she remembers the little things about her friend – and when she’d brought it up Machi, she’d only huffed and firmly told Shizuku to be quiet, her voice still snippy but just slightly wobbling.)

There’s a few cracks in her careful hiding of you, but for the most part Machi is frighteningly good at making sure that no one will ever know about you.

But the impossible has a way of happening, and if by some stroke of ill luck someone does find out about you and tries to attack you, torture you, kill you or use you for leverage?

The moment that she gets you back, safe from the threat of death, immediately she’s putting you under her care, locking you up tight in a small home in a small town where you’ll be utterly, completely safe.

However, the more likely scenario of an outside factor forcing her hand is that Machi will be approached by Chrollo himself – his words are simple, an are you alright? You seem to be a bit off your game, Machi. Whatever it is, please don’t let your duties to the Spider slide.

And when Machi takes a deep breath, she can’t help herself from spilling it all to her boss – the words come out fast, splutters of her feelings for you and how she can’t get you off her mind, how the constant worry over your safety eats away at her every moment she’s away from you, but Chrollo listens diligently, nodding every once in a while.

And when she finishes, her breathing slightly ragged, he can only place a comforting hand on her shoulder, asking her if she’s considered keeping you in a secure location, in which you’ll always have the comfort of knowing she’s alright?

And while she had in fact considered – and immediately discarded – the idea, something in that moment clicks; her life is dedicated to the Troupe, and maybe it really would make things easier to keep you locked up, to keep you safe and sound and completely protected.

Chrollo’s words are enough to have her agreeing, slipping into your room late one night and gently hitting a pressure point, only to leave you snuggled up in your new bed in a collection of the warmest, newest blankets that she could find.

You’re so cute, and while there’s a small amount of guilt eating away at her, Machi can’t deny how right it feels to have you completely aware of how dependent you are on her. Just as it should be.

As a captor, Machi’s air of distance and emotional invulnerability doesn’t simply disappear. Habits can’t be unlearned that quickly, after all, and while every glance at you leaves her stomach feeling weightless and her heart hammering in her chest, she’s too overwhelmed to really be able to talk to you normally – much less touch you as a means of expressing what she’s feeling.

She’s still so used to not really expressing herself, and while you’re quite literally in front of her, looking as precious and pretty and sweet as you always do, she can’t quite find it in her to openly admit how deeply the love swirling in her chest for you runs.

The possibility of you rejecting her is something that scares her to her core, and while the idea of you lovingly hugging her, kissing her and telling her in that flustered, sweet voice that you love her is something that actually makes her blush, the anxiety that you won’t return her feelings eats away at her.

There’s a constant war happening in her mind, really – she’ll dream about holding you at night, her eyes flicking under her eyelids as she imagines how warm you’d be, how good it would feel to press a kiss against the crown of your head, your hair tickling her lips as she whispers an I love you, only to wake up and immediately scoot away from you on the bed, hopeful that you hadn’t awoken during the night and seen the way she’d crawled in beside you.

She’s still distant and impossible to read, and for a good portion of your time under her care, you’ll have absolutely no idea why she’s stolen you.

She obviously doesn’t want to hurt you – she’s threatened you once or twice, sure, but never once has she actually laid a hand on you with violent intent.

(The threats even seem to be accidental, really – as soon as the words slip from her mouth, her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, as if she’s shocked by what she’s said. She’ll always be a little skittish afterwards, avoiding you more than normal and struggling to maintain eye contact, but you’ll always end up with a small, token gift by your nightstand that makes you wonder just how much she seems to know about what you like and dislike – the gifts may be unnerving, but they’re always things you love. Even if you don’t recall having mentioned it to her.)

She doesn’t want to hurt you, and you’ve pretty much ruled out the possibility that you’re being held as a hostage with some larger goal in mind.

After all, why would she bother to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of if she was just planning on using you?

Why would she invest in buying such high quality sheets for your bed (your preferred blend/texture, of course), or such nice clothing for you?

(It’s all in shades of dark reds and pinks, a mixture of loungewear that fits you perfectly, and a frilly, lace nightgown that only comes down to the mid-thigh and makes you look positively angelic – if it weren’t for the way the sheer fabric does nothing to mask your nipples or the curve of your ass. Don’t ask Machi about the nightgown – she’d stolen it late one night, back when her obsession with you was in full throttle and she was constantly wanting, not quite having you kidnapped yet but still needing to be around you more and more. It was a split second decision, and a part of her hoped you wouldn’t even find the thing in your closet – but the moment she sees you for the first time, that thought disappears and she’s only left with the wonderful, explicit image of you standing in it, her eyes examining every inch of your body.)

You’ve considered everything from a ransom to becoming a future murder statistic, and yet nothing quite seems to fit the situation.

Because Machi’s not affectionate, either – in fact, she hardly ever touches you unless she absolutely has to.

When she’s patching you up after you fall and scrape your knee on the edge of the chair, her fingers almost recoil the moment your skin and hers meet. She avoids any hand you reach out with to grab at her wrist or tap her shoulder, jumping nearly out of her skin and whipping around to face you, this look crossing her face that seems like anger and yearning. It’s confusing, and after a while you’ll stop trying to initiate any form of physical contact, and Machi notices.

It frustrates her, this nagging feeling in her chest begging her to do something, to just reach out and place her hand on your shoulder or wipe away a few crumbs of food from your lips when you’re eating (she made the food, of course, after having watched you cook yourself dinner countless times through your kitchen window).

She won’t do it though, too embarrassed and scared you’ll reject her – so you’ll be left to wonder exactly what the hell her goal is. She doesn’t want to hurt or kill you, and she doesn’t seem to want to assault you or use your body either – what does she want?

You won’t know for a very, very long time – potentially even years, if Machi is left to her own devices. She’s just too scared to come clean; the chance of your rejection or your disgust makes her anxious in a way that has her picking at her nails and pulling out pieces of hair, the anxiety of it all just too much. But as time passes, things will get better.

She’ll slowly – very slowly – begin coming out of her shell, letting herself stand just a hair closer to you or let her gaze linger on your for just a moment longer than before. Eventually she’ll get to the point where she’ll sit directly next to you on the couch, your thighs pressing against each other’s and both of your faces looking straight ahead, both of you unwilling to broach the subject of exactly what’s happening. (Machi’s too nervous, and you’re too confused.)

It’ll take her a long time to admit that she cares about you, but she expresses that sentiment in different ways – she’s a woman of action, and you can tell that she holds just a sliver of fondness for you from the way she provides for you.

Instead of sleeping on a cement floor in some dark, wet, cold basement, she’s outfitted a modest, simple room for you, with a nice twin bed in the corner and a fully stocked closet, along with some art supplies to keep you entertained and a few others items corresponding to your hobbies.

Instead of restricting your meals or feeding you expired, questionable food, she’s always arriving at your doorway with a steaming bowl of soup (she didn’t make it – she can’t cook, but she did personally pick it out from the takeout place or pick it up at the store), her eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before they flick away.

Instead of invading every inch of your privacy like you’d expected, she’s respectful when you have to change (turning away, though the throbbing that forms between her legs begs her to turn around because you’re five feet away from her and you’re naked and fuck fuck fuck -).

She won’t force you into any kind of affection (no unwanted kissing or sexual touching, not even any comments about how attractive you are or how much she desires your body (because the thoughts are there, oh yes, and it’s difficult to keep them at bay, but she tries her best).

She’s even able to predict what you want before you know you want it – she’s spent so long stalking you and paying attention to every small habit in your daily life that she knows exactly how much body wash you lather yourself with in the shower, or how heavy your menstrual flow is, or even

PUNISHMENTS:

Doesn’t like seeing you in pain, and generally you’ll be too afraid to act up because she’s so cold and distant most of the time. She also has no problem intimidating you, whether it be by having a conversation with Feitan in the same room and playing up hearing him talk about new torture methods, even though she hates putting scary ideas into your head (she would never let Feitan touch you or anyone hurt you, but she figures that if you’re scared or have the idea that you will be hurt if you try anything, you’ll probably behave)

Generally speaking, Machi honestly does not enjoy causing you any sort of discomfort or harm.

She’s overbearingly protective, anxious at just the slightest fraction of a possibility that something could hurt you (the amount of times she’s jumped into action and harshly snatched the semi-sharp pencil you were using out of your hands has told you exactly how deeply her paranoia regarding your safety really runs), and she doesn’t have a moral compass that allows her to genuinely believe that any harm she does to you is somehow different than the danger she’s always trying to protect you from.

She doesn’t see herself as being a disciplining force; rather, Machi more wants to keep you safe and pristine, and though she knows it’s a bit of an impossibility, at least towards the beginning of your captivity, she wants you to be as happy as possible as well – she didn’t kidnap you just for the hell of it, and she didn’t uproot your whole life just for shits and giggles.

She wants you to behave, to be safe and sound and still enjoying what little life you have in her clutches, and frankly, punishing you is something that probably won’t happen too often. Machi is scary as a captor at first, if only because she’s just so cryptic, so unwilling to admit to anything regarding her feelings or obsession with you that could be used against her, your smarts coming in to play to manipulate her into letting you go or allowing you to be hurt.

She’s terrifying, cold, calculated and incredibly impersonal, so while the urge to try and escape, to fight her, to do anything to stand up for yourself is incredibly strong, you’ll likely be extremely hesitant to do so.

Because really, while she tries not to show any blood in front of you or explicitly talk about her job, you’ll be able to see the signs – she’s not the best at washing the blood off of her shirt before she returns home from particularly difficult or gruesome jobs, nor is she good at keeping the irritated mumblings under breath about Shalnark being so damn happy, he kills like it’s candy especially quiet.

She’s not subtle, so don’t act out – because while she knows that she’ll never, ever hurt you, you don’t, and do you really want to test that?

When she changes in front of you (something that takes her a while to have the confidence to do, if only because the idea of you seeing something as vulnerable as her body makes her flush lightly and avert her eyes), the spider tattoo is glaringly obvious, and you’ll be left to face the reality – there’s absolutely nothing you can do to her to get her to leave you alone, and there’s nothing you can do against her in order to leave.

So if you’re stuck, why make the situation any more of a living hell than it already is?

That being said, you are only human – Machi works so damn hard to keep you safe, healthy and vital, to give you as good of a life under her care as she feasibly can, and the moment that you do something to threaten that sense of safety she works so hard to upkeep?

Well, Machi may not like seeing you upset, but there’s only so much patience a mass criminal can have, only so much leniency and exceptionalism she can exercise towards you – which is why, as she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose when you refuse to stop going near the oven (even though she makes a point to turn the breaker off and cover the oven in such a strong field of nen that there’s no way you could even try to put your hand inside), she decides that difficult situations call for unfortunate measures, that she’ll have to go to the extremes to get you complacent, pliant, behaving.

She still will never purposefully physically hurt you, if only because she genuinely can’t stomach the thought of being the cause for any of your blood to be drawn, but your mind is still oh so vulnerable, oh so exposed for her liking, pliant and susceptible to a bit of manipulation, to a bit of rerouting.

And so, while she doesn’t feel good about it, it’s not difficult to get a troupe member to come to her place, to speak about the latest or newest job, what Chrollo wants stolen, how many people can be killed or in the body count, asking them (with a well hidden wince and a sinking feeling in her gut) to be as explicit and specific as possible, to speak loudly enough that you’ll hear from the next room over.

She does this to prove to you without physical pain that she is still more than capable of shutting you down, that while she may have not done anything to you besides stealing you away, she could kill you at the drop of a pin, and you should really listen to her if you know what’s best for you.

It feels dirty and Machi honestly hates doing it, but it’s the only way – and so, when Feitan reluctantly agrees to swing by (after Machi’s promise of a few million Jenny for his trouble), Machi’s setting him up close to the wall separating the kitchen from the bedroom, asking him to face the plaster and tell him about the latest torture method he’s been experimenting with.

Feitan doesn’t like pointless talking or really helping Machi out at all, but as he begins talking, narrowing his eyes as Machi silently pumps her palm up to show he should speak louder, you’ll be sitting in the next room over, the slightly muffled words chilling you to the core.

First locate the spine, take the long knife and cut from neck to tail bone, should wait five to ten minutes for enough blood. Take oven and heat to 500 degrees…

You’ll be traumatized for all thirty minutes of the conversation, and while Machi fucking hates that she’s filling such gruesome and violent ideas in your head, it’ll get the point across, and get you listening to her again.

After she bids him goodbye (a clipped next month, see you then and a slammed door in his face), she’ll take a deep breath and adjust her ponytail lightly, closing her eyes and preparing to face you.

She’s not surprised to see you curled in on yourself on your bed, eyes wide and your fingers trembling, but it still doesn’t make her feel good, a sick feeling settling in her stomach as she bites her lip and leans against the doorframe, hurting inside knowing that she’ll never, ever let Feitan anywhere near you to enact the torture he was detailing, but knowing that she can’t tell you that.

She’s noticeably silent after every ‘punishment’, letting you stew over the information on your own time, but she’s pleased to see that you begin avoiding the oven like the plague, not a single glance spared at the appliance without copious amounts of mumbled apologies and nervously twiddling fingers.

Of course, Machi doesn’t enjoy breaking you down like this, scaring you into submission, but in her mind it’s the only way – she won’t slap you or bruise you, but don’t mental punishments work better, anyways?

Isn’t it more effective to make you afraid, so that the only thing you feel is safe and dependable is her?

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

The thing that makes Machi so dangerous is genuinely that she’s absolutely, thoroughly and scarily committed to making absolute sure that you’re taken care of, that not a single thing can hurt you or otherwise affect you.

She’s terrified of the idea of you being hurt, because now that she has someone she actually cares about, a connection that makes her chest feel warm and her cheeks feel flush, she is absolutely not willing to let anything happen to fuck it up.

She’s paranoid, overprotective to a fault, and so painfully detached from being able to properly express herself, to properly showcase just how deeply and horribly her obsession and love for you runs.

She’s terrified of being emotionally vulnerable, of letting you in for fear that you’ll somehow use it against her, and so Machi becomes a bit like your guardian angel – only much, much bloodier, and one that will eventually lock you up and treat you like you’re made of the finest china, able to break at even the slightest poke.

Honestly, if you can deal with her being essentially emotionally unavailable (until at least a year or so into your captivity, if all goes well) and not letting you do much of anything for yourself, life with Machi won’t be so bad – you’ll get adequate, homecooked food (though it tends to a bit bland for nutritional reasons), a clean space to live in (one that she honestly won’t intrude on too much, if only because the concept of sleeping in the same bed as you makes her feel pathetic and weird for being so excited and nervous about it), and a protector who considers your safety to be the most important thing on Earth.

If you can deal with it, Machi isn’t too bad – just remember that ice takes time to melt, and can freeze up again at any moment’s notice, if you’re not careful enough.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere machi #_hxh #_machi komacine #_lee's profiles

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mylovelies-docx · 10 months

Text

Sorry, I Love You - Part 6

It's my birthday, so here is my gift to all you lovely people :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: brief mentions of HYDRA approved "science", insecurities

Word Count: idk ill look later

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5]

Meeting with the contact goes down without a hitch. You’re surrounded by scraggly trees and evergreens, snow heavy on bare branches and pine needles alike. You’re briefed on all the important information: who’s who, ongoing projects, expectations for your work. You nod along as you write down shorthand notes – really only intelligible to you, but you’ll burn them once you memorize the information regardless.

The rendezvous is short, but you’ll be seeing them again soon at your new ‘job’. You flip your notebook closed and dip your head briefly to acknowledge the end of the meeting. Olaf (not his real name) returns the gesture and stalks off, presumably heading back to the HYDRA facility.

You take your time getting back to the house – you want to give Bucky his privacy and time by himself to prepare for the workday ahead. You envy the monotony of working on vehicles all day: scouring the engine, finding the necessary parts, sliding under the metal frame and lying on your back for hours…

Come to think of it, maybe you shouldn’t imagine lying on your back for hours in the same thought process that involves Bucky. Too many memories and too much pain.

Regardless, anything is better than working for HYDRA, even if you are actively working to sabotage them while you’re there. Yeah, Bucky is here to keep an eye on you and provide backup and know-how, but you’re the one that is pivotal to this mission. The one that needs to get in, get out, and get gone before HYDRA realizes how big of a mess they’re in.

You begin fine-tuning the personality and mannerisms that will serve you best here. Olaf had explained the specific work culture of the HYDRA facility during the meeting, so you’re now better able to imagine your life for the foreseeable future: work, work, work, kidnapping, torture, experiments, exhaustion.

And going home to Bucky every night, your brain supplies. You mentally swat the words away. Of course you’re going ‘home’ to Bucky. He’s your immediate backup in case something goes wrong – he has to be close. Even if it’s not the intimate kind of close. Not the kind of close you used to be when this mission was first given to you last year. Not the close that originally had you posing as husband and wife, but the kind that now has Bucky as your brother.

A shiver courses through you at the thought, and you wrap your arms tighter around your snuggly bundled self. Bucky as your brother is the worst scenario you could possibly imagine, but everyone agreed that with the new tension between you and Bucky, romance wouldn’t be the wisest play up here.

A soft groan leaves your lips and you dip your head quickly in disappointment before popping back up and looking ahead. There’s no point in yearning for something that will never happen again. You need to actually move on, not just lie about it and pretend like you did. Bucky deserves that much. You deserve that much.

Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus back to the mission. It’s time to embrace the role, leaving behind the echoes of a love that was now confined to memories. You couldn't afford distractions or longing. HYDRA's demise depended on your unwavering commitment, even if it meant burying your heart's desires in the depths of your being.

***

You arrive home a short while later, the creaks and groans of the old house underlying the silence of the empty rooms. It seems that Bucky had left for work while you were out. Glancing over to the clock atop the fireplace mantel, you're taken aback to see how much time has passed. You must have been lost in your thoughts far longer than you had initially realized.

You close the door softly behind you and shuffle out of your coat. You hang it on a peg beside the door where your and Bucky’s other coats reside, noticing how well the colors reflect both of your personalities. You can’t help but laugh at the blacks, grays, and dark blues of Bucky’s jackets that contrast sharply with the whites, pinks, and pastels of your own. The smile lingers until you kick off your boots and walk further into the quiet house.

The echoing silence pulses in your ears and makes you uncomfortable. You hadn’t been alone like this in a very long time – there was always at least one person in the next room or house or building that you could reach out to. But with Bucky at his ‘new job’ and no neighbors knocking on the door to welcome you to the neighborhood, you feel totally isolated.

With nothing else to do besides wallow in loneliness, you decide to throw on some music and dive into all the information the team has gathered on this HYDRA location. You’d skimmed the files on the way here yesterday, but now you had the time to really peruse. You run upstairs to change into comfortable clothes and throw your hair up and away from your face. You return downstairs and pull out your laptop, setting up camp at the kitchen table. You open your favorite music streaming app and hit play, starting up your ‘get shit done’ playlist. You bop your head to the beat and dig in.

***

Hours later, you hear the door creak open and Bucky steps inside, his face smudged with grease and a tired smile on his lips. You rise from your hunched position and stretch your aching muscles. The pain in your upper back and neck eases slightly as you greet him, "Hey, Bucky. Welcome back. How was your day at the garage?"

Bucky wipes his hands on a rag, glancing at you with a mix of exhaustion and genuine warmth. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fixing engines, tinkering with parts. It's a nice change of pace from our usual gigs."

You nod, attempting to keep the conversation light. "Well, at least you get to put your mechanical skills to good use. It must feel good to work with your hands again."

A brief moment of silence hangs between you as you both glance down to Bucky’s hands. His metal arm is covered by Stark tech that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it in the first place. You can tell how uncomfortable he is with the sight after working so hard and so long on learning to accept himself the way he is now. He picks at the fake skin, pulling it slightly away and letting it snap back into place. Bucky clears his throat, his voice a touch hesitant, "It doesn’t quite feel right, ya know?"

You shift in your chair, tucking your leg up under you. "No, I get it, Bucky," you say. “Doesn’t feel like you, does it?” You give him a smile and a small shrug of your shoulders, as if what you’re saying is common knowledge and an opinion that everyone shares, “If you ask me, I prefer the metal.”

Bucky's eyes soften and he stops fidgeting with the skin, letting his arms drop down to his sides. “Yeah,” he agrees, “me too.”

You nod, trying to hide the warmth swelling in your chest. "Anyway," you begin. “I’ve been going over the data that you guys have gathered in the last few months. There’s a lot here, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs and walks over to you, taking the chair opposite and stretching out his legs underneath the table. His feet encroach on your space and nearly rest underneath your chair, the table not really accommodating for his size. You pick up the one leg you still have dangling off the chair and tuck it under you with the other one. Bucky places his hands behind his head and leans back. “All of my memories of this place are hazy, but this place was a real piece of work.” A grimace mars his face and his eyes start to cloud over.

Wanting to shift the conversation away from the discomfort he may be remembering, you change the subject, "So, did anything noteworthy happen at the garage today? Any signs of HYDRA activity in the town?"

Bucky's eyes shift with a sense of purpose, grateful for the chance to discuss something less complicated. "Actually, there was something unusual. I overheard a couple of guys mentioning some military-grade vehicles arriving tomorrow for inspection. Might be worth investigating to see if they’re HYDRA."

As you delve into mission-related details, a sense of normalcy descends upon the conversation. The awkwardness and unspoken emotions linger in the background of your mind, but for now, the focus is on the task at hand. You understand that the mission takes precedence over personal matters, and you commit again to putting aside your feelings for the sake of success and Bucky’s peace of mind.

With a renewed determination, you delve into strategizing and planning, resolute in your shared mission to dismantle HYDRA's operations.

Part 7

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #Sorry I Love You

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slytherinkennneedstowrite · 10 months

Text

LISTEN LET ME COOK

Theo centric thiam fic idea

After the pact finds out Theo’s homeless they try to find a place for him to live, because even though they might not like him to much he has helped them out and they’re still good people.

Liam’s parents regretfully say no, “I’m sorry Liam but we can’t let you keep the stray homeless boy you found.”

Melissa, as wonderful as she is, just can’t live with the boy who killed her son, and Sheriff feels the same way.

But Sheriff has another idea,

Parrish.

At first everyone, especially Parrish, is like ??

But then he explains that, when something supernatural happens Parrish always has some kind of special connection to it, and sometimes that can lead him to sleep walking while on fire.

Parrish is immediately like 😒 but reluctantly agrees with the Sheriff and says he’s willing to take Theo in.

But Theo’s like “uhhhhhh I’m sorry you want me to be a hellhound babysitter and potential firefighter?? I’m good”

Sheriff: you’re literally homeless kid, where else are you going to go?

Theo: I’m find in my truck

Liam: remember when you got kidnapped and then tortured because you were sleeping in your truck

Theo: thank you Liam that was very helpful

Sheriff: Son, just go stay with Parrish

Theo: I’m not your son

Liam: *smacks theo on the back of the head* OH MY GOD JUST GO LIVE WITH THE DEPUTY

Theo: WHAT THE FUCK?! *smacks liam back*

Thiam: *now having a full on smacking war*

Parrish: Why me?

So Theo moves into Parrish’s apartment and goes to finish his senior year (also being forced on him by Sheriff) and at first it’s extremely awkward obviously but as time goes on the two end up almost like brothers

Like when Theo realized he had a crush on Liam? He actually screamed “FUCK” at the top of his lungs, scaring the shit out of the deputy, and then Parrish had to very gently explain to Theo that it was okay that he had feelings.

When Thiam got together you bet your ass Liam got the shovel talk from big bro Parrish

And poor Parrish has walked in on Thiam doing the do way more times than he would like😭😭

Idk I just really like this concept and I also just wish they did more with Parrish

#thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #jordan parrish #sheriff stilinski #teen wolf

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cinnamonest · 5 days

Note

hmmmm i can’t help but think about how much worse idol / celeb fans would be in the mmau. like, maybe the government has sponsored the first ever female idol group for the sake of entertainment (because i’m sure the men eventually got tired of every source of entertainment, like music, being produced and sang by men) and like… the danger these girls are facing would probably be insane. attempted kidnappings at every concert, im telling you… or if this is a modern AU, the comments under all these girls’ performances are so crazy that all the comments are probably turned off. there’d probably be some men against it too,, like “why are these girls on stage dancing and showing themselves. who is allowing this. this is vulgar and immodest.”

The girl groups are something of an attempt to keep the population placated — the message is like, look! Girls in skimpy outfits bouncing around on stage! Eye candy! Jerkoff material! You can fill the void with obsessing over them and feel less lonely and irritable! You can be content (and not commit violent acts that upset the social framework to attempt to obtain a girl)!

That is, the hope is that it keeps the average guy in his proverbial place, acceptant that he'll never have one to himself (and distracted from the fact that most girls belong to wealthy elites, yet it would be rather easy for the have-nots to outnumber the haves and, well...)

They’re meant to be gawked at, drooled over, masturbated to, fantasized about… and it’s a huge success! All the groups that spring up rake in tons of money, performances draw in huge crowds. Men tend to form fanbases for the individual girls — that is, most guys will like the groups as a whole, but particularly dedicate themselves to one girl whom they deem their favorite.

The issue is that they’re a little too successful. The producers who thought the idea up were not fully prepared for just how allured some men would be. How attached they’d get to their favorite girl, the sort of delusions they form in their head.

It’s basically a problem in which by attempting to scratch an itch, the developers who produce the groups find out that it’s more like they’re fanning flames. Since most of these guys will never have a girl of their own, they can become especially delusional about feeling like the girl they fixate on is his, that he's her biggest fan and everyone else is just a casual fan, no one else really appreciates her the way he does. And the lack of stimulation elsewhere means that there's very little to distract them from their devotion.

The industry quickly becomes something dangerous. Fans get too close, too touchy. But really, what did they expect? Do they realize how torturous it is for a guy who has literally never, ever touched a girl, seeing one standing so close? Of course he's going to try and stick his hand out to grab. Except then more and more guys get the same idea… soon there's an extra barrier of those red-rope posts between the girls and the crowd. They take extra security measures, each girl has a personal guard who always knows where she is.

Although nonetheless, it's only a matter of time before a girl goes missing anyway, even with all the extreme measures and constant surveillance. Never underestimate the ingenuity of a desperate, horny man...

#.mmau #local article like ''what you can do to rebel against the one percent. step one: kidnap a woman—''

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rinbowaman · 16 days

Note

can you rate the scale of yandere levels for each heelead? Like from least to most dangerous thanks. I am so obsessed with heeleads being so down bad for me in each series and I just gotta know what there scale is.

Gladly!

Softest

Starting from the least or the softest yandere heelead, I will say it’s probably (believe it or not) heeler. Bro if give caught up to the current chapters of TO, you’ll already know the backstory of Heeseung in that series. I’m going to explain this without exposing spoilers, but prior to meeting you, he’s a serial killer. He did terrible things to his victims, and yes, while he did kill a man to protect you (nothing out of the ordinary for a yandere) his actions henceforth has been very traditional yandere and nothing too extraordinary. He’s done the whole thing where he kidnaps you, subjects you to noncon sessions, holds you against your will and suppresses you by keeping you with him, but with you by his side, it sort of…..tames him. *hint hint*

2. Heebros: the twins are generally pretty calm because all they care about is living a fruitful life with you. Like heeler, they’ve done some messed up stuff and pretty much trained you to stay and ‘love’ them. I would say that they’re not the type that would resort in killing or getting too out of hand for just any old reason. Someone would have to literally try to take you away or really hurt you in order for them to murder. Unlike some heeleads, where they will kill if someone so much as looks at you, these guys won’t bother unless they feel it is required. There is a line, and once that line is crossed, that’s it. But that line is far up…but not by much lol.

3. Heelel. Now the devil is very yandere and you couldn’t ask for a worse tyoe to be obsessed with you. He is crazy about you and the fact that he took away your mortality and gave you immortality, dragged you to hell and forced you in chains until you fully submitted and gave up, says so much about him. He’s very dangerous. So this is going to be kind of confusing because I would say he’s obviously the most dangerous yandere out of all the heeleads, but he’s very in control of his emotions. He’s the devil, he won’t necessarily act like a crazed lunatic because he is in control of his rage and is soooooo intelligent. He willl (and has) kill for you…he’s tortured and cause brutal deaths all for your name, but he only does it if he considers it necessary. He’s calculating and his insanity mainly shows when he ‘plays’ with you. He loves you and has his beautiful heartwarming moments but also is such a menace. I would say that under general circumstances, he’s pretty calm but if anyone gets him angry, he is the most dangerous and no one can escape from him. At this point, the ONLY thing that will get him angry, is if anyone hurts or tries to take you away from him.

4. Heedam. So heedam was like my first real hard yandere. Heethan is also a hard yandere but he started out as somewhat mild, and it grew the more he interacted with you. But heedam? Man went down a dark path the moment he shook your hand. It’s in his blood. He got hooked on you and had nonstop been thinking about you. I didn’t go into detail in the earlier chapters (though I wish I did…but it will be saved for another Drabble) but I wanted to write out a page where it solely is based off of heedams perspective, from the moment he first met you to when he got you. I’m telling you right now, be prepared for some off the wall crazed obsession. I’m talking having a mural or shrine with a thousand photos sneakily took of you by a hired private investigator, and red markings that are written on a wall saying “you’re mine. You will be the mother of my children. I will get you. I love you. I will not rest until you’re here with me.” Yeah…there is a side of heedam that yall haven’t seen yet because in the series, he’s drafted as a composed and cool gentleman but hidden behind closed doors, up until he finally caught you, he was losing his mind and growing more and more insane for you. *spoiler hint*

….”what are you doing? Sleeping? Thinking? I wonder how you lay when you’re in bed. Do you rest on your stomach? Or do you sleep on your side? God…what I wouldn’t give to witness it…to experience you. Soon…soon. Go ahead and keep living per your usual routine…keep being unaware of the hunter who is watching and planning your capture. Once I shoot that arrow, you’re mine.”

Yeah…you guys thought you had heedam figured out lol. There’s a whole side of him that will be exposed, taking place right after he first met you.

And this man murdered his own grandfather just so he could have you. And trust me….hes done a lot worse for reasons that were so minuscule…remember that young man who bumped into you at Brewery’s cafe? No? Well there’s a reason for that. *hint hint*

1. Heethan. Oooookay. The one with the most character development, leading to a very insane psychopath. Again, you guys haven’t seen the worst and there are sooooo much that will be exposed in the final chapters of HHp….heethan seems cool, calm, and collected but Im telling you….if you’ve read every single chapter of Heethan’s story…all I can say is it’s not what it seems. You guys have not seen the very bad and insane side of Heethan yet, just only got a taste of it. He loves you so much, and….its just crazy how he is. It’s what’s causing the delay in the final chapters because drafting him is a huge chore, I’m trying to perfect it so that way you get a detailed image of his nature. Everything that he’s done is sincere and genuine but let’s just say you’ll be shocked when the final chapter releases. But I rated him as number one because the moment he first met you in MgR, he went downhill. And by the time he got you I the last chapter of MGR, he was so far gone (again he didn’t seem like it because he’s so cool and calm and rational but…trust me….just trust me…he’s not a man you want to mess with) and if anyone gets too close to you, man gets triggered. It doesn’t take a lot for him to give you some sleepy time tea, sneak out at night, smash skulls and bury bodies. That, or, grind a corpse into burger bits and feed it to the pigs at that lovely farm he takes you to…you know, the one from the first chapter in MRE…the one he’s taken you to a handful of times…yeah. That one.

“Heeseung…did you go somewhere? Why are you covered in dirt….are you bleeding?”

“Hm? Oh, nah. Just had to help Jake with some car issues, must have cut my finger or something. Don’t worry about me baby, go back to sleep.”

😊

“But—“

“Shhh….go…back….to sleep….pretty baby.”

😀

“Daddy’s here, so don’t you worry about a thing.”

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anarchy-and-piglins · 11 months

Text

The water reflects beautifully off the lake when dusk hits.

Techno knows why they forbid him from coming here. Deceiving as it can be, the darkness of the water hides its true intentions. And the pale yellow eyes that peer back from its depths too.

"Are you willing to take my deal now?"

"Nope." Techno laughs at Quackity's annoyed scowl. Pupils narrowed, he would be intimidating to most humans. Techno should know better than to play with fire. The tree hollow he returns to each night proves he's too stubborn when it comes to ignoring the warnings of magic.

But also, Quackity looks like Techno could break him in half like a twig if need be. So sue him for not being very afraid.

"You're such a dick," Quackity hisses. His body is pulled up from the water to settle on a rock, legs dangling off idly. He pushes the hair out of his face, wetly clinging to his skin. "Do you like torturing me, is that it?"

"Not particularly," Techno says with a shrug.

"Then tell me what it would take to convince you?"

There's so much about Quackity that betrays his inhuman nature it. The sharpness of his fangs catches the light and his claws pick at the rock. Techno just is smart enough to stay a good three feet away from the edge of the water so the nixie can't drag him in.

"If you could stop bringing me here that'd be great," Techno says. "I'm just trying to take an evening stroll, man."

"It's in my nature," Quackity says flippantly while waving him away. "Asking me not to lure in humans is like asking the seasons to stop changing."

"Quackity!"

At the sound of Wilbur's voice, the man quickly ducks back into the water. Techno watches the ripples in the lake, feeling some kind of relief. As if something was pressing down on his chest without him noticing.

"Techno, are you okay?" Wilbur grabs his wrist. It makes him want to flinch away on instinct, but he can't.

Unlike with Quackity, Techno already messed up with this guy. Staying away from magic used to be a bigger issue for Techno and he's paying the price every single day.

"Peachy," he deadpans. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Because you kind of have a tendency to get thralled," Wilbur tells him. His grin is so self-indulgent, Techno wishes he could slap it off his face really.

"Oh, I wasn't going to claim him." Quackity rolls his eyes at them from where they're peeking out a few inches above the water.

"Tell that to all the other shit you stole from me," Wilbur snarls back. "This is not one of our little contests, Quackity."

"Sure, Wilbur, we'll see about that." The nixie raises his hand above the water to wave. "See ya later, Techno."

Techno waves back until Wilbur drags his arm down, irritated. "This is why you got kidnapped by fae in the first place," he tells Techno.

"Actually I'm pretty sure I got kidnapped because you tricked me into accepting a gift."

"Who takes a potato from a stranger?"

“I’m appealed you’d even have to ask.”

Techno laughs all the way through Wilbur grumbling as he drags him back to his ‘family’. Say what you will, being condemned to living with fae has never been boring.

#technoblade #quackity #wilbur soot #dark sbi #not really but also kinda idk just tagging it to be safe #shara writes

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vendetta-if · 1 year

Note

hey I know this is a loaded ask but hear me out.

So imagine the MC and their respective RO got kidnapped. Went through nullifing gas and are very good secured and tied up. Now the shit heads are trying to get information out of them and are beating the MC up while the RO has to watch and can’t do anything to stop it. The MC is all snarky and are signaling the RO to keep it shut even though they are getting severely hurt.

Who breaks and spills the beans and who is running a murder rampage as soon as they get saved?

On that note I would also ask how would Luka, Grandpa, Yvette and maybe Viktor (if he still was around) react first to the message that MC got kidnapped and second as soon as they are safe but see them severely injured?

I really love your blog, every new update is giving me life and so many feels. Thank you for everything that you do!

Thank you for the kind words! 🥰 And what an angsty ask 🥲 The answers will be super long and I’ll keep the second half of it under a cut. I hope you guys enjoy it; this took me a while to finish answering 😅

Ash

They really try to keep themself from spilling the information the way MC wants them to… But they can’t last long when MC gets hurt and beaten up in front of them. After minutes of struggling and thrashing in their bonds until their wrists are bloody, they’ll finally cave in and spill the beans.

But of course, once they’re saved, they’ll be on a murderous rampage, hunting down the kidnappers and killing them in the most painful way they can as retaliation for what they did to MC and next, they’ll hunt down the other people who know the information as well.

No loose ends.

Rin

They’ll be able to hold the information in, even though with great difficulty. Every punch, every scratch, every hit, it almost feels like it’s directed at them as well. Their mind will be racing to find what they can do to lessen MC’s pain while also not revealing the information.

What they might do is giving tidbits of not important enough information or mixed the truth and some lies here and there, making sure to make it as believable as possible so MC can at least get some reprieve from the torture.

But after they’re saved… Well, let’s just say they’ll have a lot of strings to pull and a lot of hit contracts to give out. Same with Ash, they want revenge and they want no loose ends.

Santana

They’ll be able to hold for maybe as long as Ash before they relent, spilling the information as long as MC won’t get hurt anymore. They’ll tell the barest minimum possible and still try to keep some important information.

After they’re saved, they’ll probably try to find the kidnappers and the perpetrators through the ECPD and judicial system, hopefully being able to get some sort of justice for what happened to MC.

Skylar

They’ll cave in quite quick. MC getting hurt in front of them while they can do nothing to help… No information is worth MC’s life and well-being and they’ll give it out with no problem if it means MC can be spared from more pain.

Once they’re saved… They don’t really know what to do. They really want to find the perpetrators and deal them some justice, making sure they get arrested and given proper jail time for what they did to MC. But they don’t really know where to start… Maybe MC or MC’s family know and can help.

But still, they feel a bit weird taking on this job because it’s certainly more personal than what their usual superhero jobs entail and this time, they’ll take a more proactive stance. Their superhero jobs are mostly more reactive where they deal with criminals and bad people they encounter during their patrol and they are certainly far from being personal. But still, those kidnappers should not get away freely like that. Not after what they did.

While, for the second part of the question.

Luka

When Luka first hears the news that his nephew/niece/nibling is kidnapped, he feels panic. He rarely feels it, only a few times in all his life and he prides himself in his ability to stay composed most of the time. But not for this case… He feels the familiar sense of dread and fear as he remembers what happened to his brother years ago.

He’ll immediately contact all of his allies and make use of his web of connections to try find MC as quickly as possible. Also, dispatch the members all over the city to help track down MC.

As soon as MC is successfully rescued, he’ll be so relieved. He’ll hug them before realizing MC’s state of injuries. It makes them angry and they swear this will not go unanswered and that those who kidnapped MC and the people behind it and their family are found and get rid off in the most terrible way possible.

Grandpa

Even though he might not look that much difference on the outside, he’s filled with cold dread and fear. Is this it? Is this when Death finally gets to his grandchild too? Have they not taken enough from him?

He tries not to panic and keeps a cool head, think systematically and plan the next step. He’ll definitely fly directly to Elysium City no matter what and bring a number of personnel from the New York branch to help in the search and rescue for MC.

When he finds MC alive, he’s so relieved, but he’ll refrain from hugging them, seeing the state of their injuries. Whoever did this… and whoever order this to be done… their days are numbered. There’ll be nowhere on this earth that they’ll be able to hide from his cold wrath.

Yvette

Her child? Missing?! No—Kidnapped?! Why? Who? How? She’ll be very stressed out and emotional and restless. She wants to help find MC but doesn’t really know where to start.

She thinks about reporting it to the ECPD… But she knows it might not help much and it may even unintentionally make the search harder. The ones who have the most success would be Luka and the Morozovs… She knows they hate her, but she’ll willingly contact Luka everyday to know more about the progress.

As soon as she hears that MC has been recovered alive, she’ll be so happy and she’ll drop everything to go visit MC. Her heart falls a bit, however, as she sees the injuries on her baby’s body. What kind of monsters did this? She may not be able to go after them… But for once, she really approves and cheers for the Morozovs to do it instead.

Viktor

MC?! His baby?! He’ll be panicked before forcing himself to calm down, at least calm enough to think of what to do.

He knows that his brother and father would hold nothing back to recover MC… But he can’t just stay here, sitting and doing nothing but fret and worry while his baby is out there, probably being tortured.

No… He has to join the hunt. It’s been years since he last put on his vigilante outfit and even longer since he last held his dual-pistols—gift from his father that he both loves but also hates at the same time. But now, he’s more thankful for them more than ever.

When MC is finally recovered, his reactions would be similar to Luka. He’ll immediately hug MC, relieved and he would not want to let go forever if only that’s possible. It’s then that he finally fully realized the full extent of MC’s injuries.

He seethes in anger. He likes to think that he’s a pretty kind and merciful man at times… but this… This cannot be forgiven… Those who did this deserve the same and even more. And truthfully, Viktor is really tempted to hunt them all down and torture them all back personally.

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applepiewinchesters · 1 year

Text

Long Way Down (Crowley x Gender Neutral Angel!Reader)

A/N: This wasn't requested but I just wrote it up while waiting for any requests! Hope you like it!

Word Count: 1,625

Pining. The present tense of pine, meaning suffering from a mental and physical decline, most often due to the silly feelings the heart makes one feel. Pining however, means you miss or long for something. A lost pet, a family member long gone, or, in Crowley’s case, someone he's spent the better part of 6,000 years with.

The word put a bad taste in Crowley’s mouth, pining. He didn’t pine for you. He…admired you. Was fond of you. If Aziraphale had a word in the matter he’d like to say Crowley loved you. And he did, but he’d never admit it.

Not when you nearly discorporated trying to save the Library of Alexandria with Aziraphale. Not when he saw you for the first time in nearly two centuries. And most certainly not when he thought the world was ending and had begged yourself and Aziraphale to go with him to Alpha Centauri. He thought of saying it, maybe it would get you to go with him, to be safe, but he couldn’t.

You were the embodiment of love and light. Something Crowley hadn’t been since before he met you. You were kind, you were…bright to say the least. While Crowley was a rather confident being, he lost it all when it came to you.

It wasn’t until you were kidnapped along with himself, as Aziraphale of course, that those words were finally spoken. Well, almost.

You hadn’t been swapped with anyone, as neither demon nor angel believed you were in any real danger. It wasn’t your fault Gabriel had some weird hard on for torturing Aziraphale, and Hell never really took an interest in your activities, at least that’s what you believed.

You were taken to Heaven, strapped to a chair beside Aziraphale (Crowley), the angel Gabriel stood before you both, a smirk on his face. Sandalphon and Uriel close behind him.

“Azirphale. Y/N. So glad you could join us,” Gabriel spoke, stepping towards you both. “So, with one act of treason, you averted the war.”

“Well, I think the greater good…,” Aziraphale (Crowley) began, but he was cut off by Gabriel.

“Don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine. I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel. The greater good was we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all,” Gabriel spat.

You saw Crowley clench his jaw, his fists clenching as well. You wanted to reach out and take his hand but being tied up prevented that pretty well.

“Is our associate on the way?” Gabriel asked, turning to Sandalphon and Uriel.

“Here,” came another voice as a demon you’d never seen stepped off the escalator and into the room. His hair was styled to look like two horns atop his head and he dressed like he could be in some rock band.

Your eyes widened, a demon in heaven? You were sitting beside one right now but a demon just out in the open like that? In Heaven? You two were royally fucked.

Crowley could sense it too as he looked over at you, tugging at your restraints a bit. He met your gaze and gave you a quick, reassuring nod, at least one he felt was reassuring.

“Alright, get to it,” Gabriel said, stepping back.

The demon nodded and in seconds, released a tornado, quite literally, of hell fire. The heat coming from it felt like no other heat you’d felt before. It made your skin sting just being near it.

You looked to Crowley again, who was already looking at you with fear in his eyes. He and Aziraphale predicted something like this, that’s why they switched bodies, but you, you were vulnerable. You could actually die. Not just be discorporated. Destroyed. Gone. In seconds.

Gabriel walked towards you, holding out his hands and making your restraints disappear. He grabbed your arm, roughly yanking you up and away from Crowley, who began struggling in his chair.

“Wait, wait, they didn’t do anything wrong! You don’t have to hurt them!” Crowley shouted.

Gabriel let out a harsh laugh, “Oh Aziraphale, they aren’t going to burn, they’re going to fall, and it’s a long way down, or so I’m told.”

You felt your heart drop at his words and began struggling harder against his grip as a large hole opened up in floor, as Gabriel forced you towards it.

“No, no, no! Please! They don’t deserve this!” Crowley shouted again, struggling harder against the restraints. His Aziraphale façade was slipping away, he was angry, scared, you could see it.

You caught a glimpse of the bottom of the pit, flames burned brightly at the bottom, waiting to burn away your light. To turn your wings darker than the sky. You felt like throwing up as you were forced to your knees, facing Crowley and your fellow angels.

“We need to make an example of our traitors, don’t you think?” Gabriel asked, looking to the other angels. They both nodded, smiling in a way that would make milk curdle.

“Anything you’d like to say?” Gabriel all but mocked. You looked up, a few tears dripping down your cheeks, and turned your attention to Crowley.

“I love you, I always have,” you told him. Crowley’s, well, Aziraphale’s face, softened. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes.

“Please, don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words, not like this,” Crowley choked out.

“You don’t have to, I know,” you spoke softly, giving Crowley one last smile.

“Enough of this shit,” Gabriel said suddenly, and with a swift kick to your chest, you were falling.

The last thing you heard was a pained scream. Crowley.

As everything became hotter and hotter, you closed your eyes. It seemed like forever until you hit something solid, finally crashing down, and everything turned black.

Your body ached like no other, your head pounded when you finally came round. You were lying on something soft though. Maybe you’d landed somewhere grassy. Perhaps some sand.

When an angel falls, they aren’t sent straight to hell. They’re usually sent to some place in the middle of nowhere. No help. No nothing around for miles, its sort of a punishment in itself. And one is usually too weak at the time to miracle, or tempt themselves, anywhere.

But the voices you heard were not something you expected.

“They’re awake!”. The first voice was loud, abrupt.

The second was softer. “Yes, my dear I can see that, but hush, this is no doubt going to be hard for them.”

Your eyes finally opened, and you found yourself in a rather familiar setting, Aziraphale’s bookshop. You were lying on a couch, a blanket draped over you.

You scanned your surroundings before settling your gaze on two familiar, rather relieved, faces. Crowley and Aziraphale. You hoped for your sake they had switched back as right now you don’t know if you could handle the confusion.

Seeming to sense your worry, Aziraphale spoke up, “How are you feeling, my dear?”.

That was definitely him.

“Like shit,” you rasped. Your throat felt raw, like you’d inhaled smoke. Which you had technically. Hell fire would do that to you.

Everything came rushing back to you and you sat up rather quickly, making your muscles scream from the sudden movement and your head spin.

“Hey, hey, slow it down,” Crowley told you gently, a hand reaching out just in case. When you caught his eye, the last words you’d spoken to him flooded your mind.

I love you. I always have.

Aziraphale seemed to sense the sudden shift and stood from the chair he’d been sitting in.

“I’ll make some cocoa, I believe you two have something to discuss,” the angel spoke, quickly hurrying from the room.

You looked down at your hands and gasped. The tips of your fingers were black, almost like you’d dipped them in tar. You could only imagine how the rest of you looked now that you’d fallen.

“How bad is it?” you asked Crowley, not looking up from your hands.

It was silent until you finally looked up, meeting his gaze. Crowley only studied you for a moment, before his lips twitched up into a smile.

“Rather suits you,” he spoke, taking off his sunglasses, almost as if to see you better. “Especially the hair.”

You reached up, grabbing a strand of hair and bringing it around so you could see it better. Your hair was still the same but now with streaks of red throughout, almost brighter than Crowley’s.

You managed to laugh lightly, “Giving you a run for your money it seems.”

Crowley smiled fondly at you before looking down, clearing his throat.

“I should have told you,” he spoke, “we might have not seen each other again.”

“Like I said, I already knew,” you replied, smiling a bit.

“How long?” Crowley asked you.

“Since Alexandria, the look on your face when I made it out, I could tell” you told him.

Crowley scowled, “I wasn’t hiding it at all, was I?”.

You smiled and shook your head, “Not at all.”

It was silent between the two of you for a moment before you spoke again “You could always tell me now, that is, if you still feel the same after I’ve…fallen.”

“I’ll love you no matter your affiliation darling,” Crowley told you, making you smile again and roll your eyes.

“Come here you idiot,” you spoke, reaching out to him.

“Now that’s rude…,” Crowley began before you grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him down to you, cutting him off with a kiss.

When you pulled away, he smiled, wider than you’d ever seen before.

“I love you,” he finally told you, after all this time.

“I love you too Crowley.”

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading it really does mean a lot!! Please let me know what you think! 😊💕

#good omens #good omens fanfic #Good Omens angst #aziraphale good omens #crowley good omens #anthony j crowley #Anthony janthony Crowley #crowley #Aziraphale #crowley x reader #crowley x gender neutral reader #David Tennant

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collectivecloseness · 3 months

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Wait wait wait so the others basically admitted they’re in love with you now with those last two posts as a canon, considering the whole we’re a family thing and here’s why we’re keeping you so like how would them trying to start their relationship with you go down now? Cos like you said I don’t think that would be a smooth transition

Duuude you are so big brained bc this is definitely something I wanna talk about so thank you!! Bc bc exactly right?? They’ve finally basically admitted ‘hey we all love you (to the point Nancy snapped and kidnapped you) and want you to be part of our family forever <3333’ so like, a lot of adjustments for you to make! Based on these two asks.

Yeah they’ve all basically admitted their feelings, but you’ve all been so caught up in... recent events, that there’s not really been any kind of honeymoon glow, or really, any kind of proper love confession at all. Not even really a talk about it.

I’m imagining Eddie makes a move first. It’s the first few days, and you’re at least calmer around him than you are Nancy - and then Steve really tried to hug you the first full day so that didn’t help him - and overall Eddie more calm and understanding the first few days. Especially because he yelled at Nancy in front of you, so you’re hoping Eddie might be your way out of here. Considering he seems less on board with the whole kidnapping you thing.

And you singling him out a little as the one you haven’t screamed at for being alone in the room with you, makes Eddie feel a bit more reassured. He shouldn’t.

At first he tries to kiss you on your forehead, as he sits side by side with you on your bed, but you immediately lean far away from Eddie when he does that. You pull back, explaining with a quiet shock about how that is not it, not right now. But that’s when Eddie tells you “I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever told you that. Something Eddie has been waiting to say since he first met you. Something he’s been dying for you to know because it’s the most important thing in his world, you are. Eddie is so in love with you, like he’s never loved anyone before, and he’s finally told you it. You’re the first person he’s ever told that he loves, because he’s been so so afraid of being rejected and called a freak and being unloveable his whole entire life.

And then you grimace. You scowl. And you look sick. You back up even further away on the bed, as you look into Eddie’s doe brown eyes as if he was disgusting, as if he was stupid, how dare he, as you tell him the epitome of ew, no, never. Not now. And after this, not ever.

Eddie finally tells you he loves you for the first time... and that’s how you react.

Eddie leaves your bedroom crying.

Especially after the demobat attack he survived, the other three could never imagine Eddie being in pain and you not being there for him. You didn’t leave his hospital bed ever. But now you’re the cause of it. Eddie is shaking sobbing into his bed, absolutely ruined.

He wails so loudly as he chokes on his cries, his body fiercely trembling, especially as he keeps a vice like grip on his pillow. So hard his nails are getting through it and digging painfully into his own palm. That vulnerability and love in Eddie’s eyes, shattered, replaced by teary darkness. When they’re not scrunched up in torture. Eddie is absolutely heartbroken. Howling out genuinely pained sobs as they all try and comfort him, but nothing is working. They know barely anything would, not without you, but they know they love Eddie too, and will keep trying to help him through this, as hard as they fucking can.

They feel how devastated Eddie is. It’s wrecking them to feel his pain like this. And they know they’d be pretty much the same too, if you’d reacted the same way to their faces.

Steve has to get a vomit bucket ready because Eddie is gagging on his groans and sobs. His arm clutching his stomach, but no one can get him to say if he feels like he’s gonna be sick. Eddie pretty much pleads your name out, rambles terribly about everything that’s happened, or just keeps crying harder and harder.

It’s breaking their fucking hearts.

Robin is on the bed with Eddie, and Steve is swiping his hair back from his forehead, especially because Eddie’s so worked up he’s sweating like a sauna, even as he shakes fervently, while Robin tries to rub his arm, his back, anything that usually works. Nancy also feeding him water, letting him squeeze her hand so he doesn’t break his own knuckles from clenching so tightly, all of them trying to get him through this.

But at one point during all this, Eddie basically throws Nancy out of his room. Upon his sobbing, fuzzy, brain he remembers, through her soothing hand strokes and caring blue eyes, that she’s the reason this is all happening. He tells her to get out with a “This is all your fault!”

And the others stay with Eddie, they don’t go to Nancy. Because not only is he in such need of their care and comfort right now, but he’s also correct. And they know it, they may have partially forgiven Nancy enough to move on, but she’s not out of the water yet, this is still early days. And if it wasn’t for her, you nor Eddie would be suffering; even if she’s upset at being rejected by Eddie so clearly, Eddie’s in way more pain than she could be right now. Again, remembering what it was like being by his side after the demobats... they all really can’t stand seeing Eddie so hurt, including emotionally. Robin and Steve stick together, and that’s by Eddie’s bedside right now.

Nancy does leave, she shuts her mouth, after apologising once again, and she leaves. Closing Eddie’s bedroom door, her eyes apologetic to Steve and Robin, except they’re not looking at her eyes anymore by the time she’s in the doorway. Nancy goes to her room, gets her stuffed childhood toy to muffle her noise, and she cries and cries too, because she knows it is. This is all her fault. She has hurt poor Eddie, and you. She’s hurt her entire family.

Eddie is in pain for days after. Weeks really, the others can see it still affecting him. The first night Steve stayed in his bed and Eddie had cried even throughout sleep.

The whole morning he was a sniffling shell of himself. Eddie completely broken by how his love confession to you had gone. Even during those two weeks Eddie still walks a little slower, keeps his head bent down, doesn’t talk like he normally does. He is wrecked.

But Steve convinces him to get back on the horse the first afternoon after your rejection. He brings Eddie to your room, both of them bringing you a meal, and a couple of new books, talking idly about the bookshelf they’re going to build you in here. You have the same disdain as usual towards all of them, but no special hatred towards Eddie. You look at them the same.

Eddie does feel a little better after he and Steve leave your room. But he’s putting his hand to his chest to find his breath again, before Steve can even finish latching your second lock. Steve was right though, it was good to go back today, and Eddie did feel slightly better. Even if your words, your face, your reaction still lingered in his heart and mind for several days more.

Eddie tried to be better around you, the same soothing rock you needed right now, sensitive to you like always, but he allowed himself to be more melancholy around the others, as he actually felt. He didn’t need to hide from them. You were the one he and his partners all needed to be strong for, at this point in your lives.

Eddie did not appreciate when Nancy tried to get him to eat one time during this period though. Robin was guiding Nancy out of the room before Eddie could go on about how dare she after everything she’s done, again.

Nancy steers clear of Eddie for a couple of days respectfully. All of them, really, because she knows they’re still upset at her putting not just you, but all of them in this situation.

Nancy was upset with herself too, she could handle it. She knows she just has to deal with the cards she’s dealt herself, and she just tries to breathe in, and breathe out, as she thinks of how they’re all working towards building a better future for you, and for all of you as a family, together.

It’s not just Eddie though. They’re all living with the knowledge that at least they’re free of keeping that particular secret from you, that side of them, you know they’re in love with you now.

But they were also quite close with you when you all were just ‘friends’. So surely at least they can try and bring back some of that normalcy, maybe the familiarity again would even help you, right?

Robin tries to give you a side hug one of your first days in, and you nearly bite her arm. Not even in an affectionate way. Steve checks on the teeth scrape mark once Nancy’s locked your door, and he’s got Robin calm enough to sit down in the bathroom with him, but it’s a super minor scrape. As if in the last second you didn’t want your mouth to touch her, and you backed off.

Steve doesn’t exactly say this, but he is talking as he checks out Robin’s bicep, and without really thinking as he goes, and with their platonic soulmate mind meld, Robin immediately also comes to this conclusion. She almost wishes you actually did bite her. Maybe also then, she’d feel just a fraction of her guilt resolve. With you able to take out at least something on her, like truthfully you deserve. Robin’s spending a half hour shaking into Steve’s hug in that bathroom, just not because of her injury.

Steve, poor lost romantic Steve, tries to go in for his first kiss with you. He takes it slow, Steve’s fingers are gentle on your chin as he lifts it, but of fucking course that doesn’t work out either.

He immediately backs off, of course he does, but he does try to stick around and profusely apologise to you afterwards. Even when Eddie’s trying to drag him out so he doesn’t get hit by another book. Steve will take it, all of what you want to throw at him, but he sincerely feels the need to apologise to you for even going towards taking that step when it’s exceedingly obvious now that you clearly didn’t want that.

He’s crying to the other three next, guilt wracking him. Which is why he took leaning in slow, just so you could move away if you want. But he hopes you know he’s safe. That they all are. That part of the reason he wanted to stay and apologise, but also because you deserved one. He really didn’t want to screw things up. You weren’t as terrible with him as you were with Nancy, something Steve tries to skirtingly explain because Nancy’s right there rubbing his knee throughout his sniffling conversation with them, but he just doesn’t want to make things worse with you.

To be fair, none of them could imagine living in a world where these were your reactions to their genuine gestures of love. It was like living in their worst nightmares. But they created this nightmare, and it was something they were forcing you to live in. And unfortunately, they couldn’t wake up and go drive to see you and hang out like normal afterwards anymore. There was no relief. They had created this.

None of them are forcing their touch on you, not at all. They’d probably turn on another if the caught them doing so! But after weeks of you screaming at any one of them trying to just touch you in any way, it is very draining on them.

Not that you exactly care about them being drained. They kidnapped you.

Nancy takes it much slower. She doesn’t try to kiss you first or envelop you in a hug or curl up thigh to thigh or anything with you very quickly. But she is constantly telling you how much she loves you. And that might be worse for you.

She’s declaring “I love you.” Over and over again. It’s done in so many ways, serious and desperate, panicked and repeated, somber and reminding, genuine and heartfelt, craving and lovesick, caring protectively and apologetic, every way. Sometimes multiple times in a go, sometimes only once as she makes a serious remark, but Nancy is constantly telling you those three big words.

To you it’s on par with psychological torture. You know this isn’t why she’s saying it, Nancy’s not trying to break your mind irreparably, she’s just that lovesick. But even her saying it in an apologetic way, not only does it not at all make up for any of it, but it just plain makes things worse. You hate when she says that. And Nancy is the main one who won’t stop telling you.

Don’t even get me started on them always knocking while you’re in your en-suite, to check you’re okay. And are still there/not planning anything.

Even if it’s them worrying you’ve been on the toilet so long do you need some medicine? Or if you’ve fallen asleep in the bath? Do you want dinner now or in half an hour? If you’re injured, trying to get your permission to come in so they can help you with any bathing stuff - not to see you naked, genuinely to help you out, especially if you’re hurt, and also yes because maybe there is some trust and also domestic bliss and care entangled in there.

You thought about breaking the mirror in your bathroom. Actually more than once. But that would only be useful as potentially a distraction, but mostly a weapon, and you’re still unsure if you want to really hurt them, or hurt yourself, just to try and escape. Also, you don’t want loads of things taken away from you, that they might deem potentially dangerous, that will make you feel even more restricted, imprisoned, dehumanised. Because you’re already aware you are struggling.

If they started making lists of what could potentially be a risk that’s in your room, if you ever created a big enough incident, then you’re sure, knowing them really now, that they’d find enough things to remove from your presence. Enough to are you finally slip over the edge. You already got lamps and water glasses/ceramic crockery restricted, you don’t think going without a mirror to see yourself is going to help your mental health here. Nor your fight to get out of this family, this future you have right here...

You actually think about potential lists. The glass in your watch, without telling the time you will definitely go nuts. The wires in your tv, the wood from your bedpost you could carve/bludgeon with, your favourite bedsheets that could make a rope, even the fucking windows. And you know if you’re thinking of those things, the four out there have thought of a dozen times more. You’d rather stay sane, have belongings to make you feel like an actual human being, and fight back once you’ve got a viable plan.

They eventually will start being desperate enough to get you to accept their simplest touches again though. They want to build everything back up with you, because right now your relationship with them is just getting drastically worse and worse.

No more slapping Robin because she caught you when you nearly tripped. No more yanking actual tufts of Eddie’s hair out because he forgot his place and touched yours softly. No more pinning Nancy to the floor and screaming in her face wildly and threateningly so much that she gets democreature flashbacks while under you, just because her fingers brushed yours while passing you the water bottle you dropped. No more chasing Steve with scissors because he accidentally leaned into your thigh too much when sitting next to you - Nancy really should have considered it when she bought you that art set to try and make things up to you and make you feel a bit better.

They want to really start seeing some positive changes within you :). They don’t want you to feel this way anymore, they never have! With what they’ve got, they really are trying to help you out as best they can. Forgoing losing you.

They soon, one by one, will start laying by you when you’re asleep, without waking you up, just to be near you. Cleaning up your face after you cry, even if you try to wriggle out their hold, if nothing else is working why shouldn’t they try showing you how much you mean to them and they care for and love you, helping you take that first step because you’re scared to. Holding your arm to help you when you’re unsteady on your feet, even if they’re the ones getting shoved to the ground by you after that.

They want you to find normalcy in their touch again. So after a few weeks, they really will try reintroducing you to their loving physical touch. Just taking it softly and sweetly and slowly at first.

These are positive steps. They’ll work together so they’re more like a caring and authoritative source and not overbearing or scary. Like finally letting a kid go as they ride their bike or something. They are all helping you, even if you’re worried, but you’ll very quickly learn that you’re okay. You did it, and all went well, you’re not hurt, nothing bad happened, it’s just like before.

The four are trying to show you over and over again that they are safe, that they would never ever want to hurt you. You used to have their touch because they loved you, and you in a way loved them, it is still a nice thing. That would never change, okay? They just don’t want to go without your touch much longer. Not only do you need to get back on the horse, but they’re desperate to just be able to have that with you again, in any way at all.

They need you. But they also don’t want you to go so long without any human touch, it is so so bad for you sweetheart, they know you need them too. They’re gonna take things soooo gently and step by step with you, but not in a clinical way, in a genuine one. They’ll help you through this, it really doesn’t need to be a big hurdle, they know what’s best for you.

And you know, in your heart, and in your trembling body that hasn’t felt touch unless it was briefly scratching at another in a while, that they’re right too. It will help keep you feeling like you’re still somewhat as normal as before. That love, that genuine human connection that really has not changed from them for you, if not been discovered as slightly twisted, is still there, and all four of the people you are closest to are still here, to do everything for you.

You really do need some of that, some of your every day back. You’ve got a deficit of some things, you don’t want a deficit of love, of someone to be your rock for you whenever you can’t right now, of touch that will ground your mind body and soul. The catharsis of someone to cling onto, the fact you’re able to have someone hold you, the touch you used to give and receive constantly that you didn’t realise you could be stripped of, the genuine connection that makes you human. That reminds you more and more of who you are.

Not only that, but that you can still be that same person, the you you aren’t close to forgetting just yet, not just a few weeks in. But that you can give into humanity and love and stay the person you are - not knowing that thinking this, you already could be changing. But you’d rather change, than lose yourself completely. You don’t want to lose love, you don’t want to lose something so basically human as touch, you don’t want to change into someone frightened of it, when you know that your friends don’t want to hurt you. They want the same thing you do, and that’s for you to not lose yourself here.

And they will all hold your hand, every step of the way if you want <3333

#yandere fruity four/reader #yandere Eddie munson #yandere nancy wheeler #yandere steve harrington #yandere robin buckley #yandere fruity four angst #yandere fruity four Drabble #yandere fruity four #yandere fruity four x reader #stranger things #anon #ask

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