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imaginewarehouse · 3 years

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Yandere!Marcus White x Reader || Drabble

Plot: I’ve been watching Gotham, so, some delicious villainous yandere stuff for fun.

Warnings: Abduction, toxic/abusive relationship, basic yandere character (He’s kinda chill though, so it isn't really mega level dark? I guess?)

🔆 🔆 🔆

The bag is ripped off my head, along with a few strands of my hair, and I gulp down my first non-canvasy breathes in hours, looking around the room I’m in. As soon as I recognise the childish basketball themed bed sheets that I’m plopped onto and the blue walls that could only belong to a man-child that hasn't left his mother since the womb though, a deep, annoyed groan escapes my throat and my head falls back against the wall I’m leaning on. The frustration of another failed escape attempt honestly killing me. “Fuckkkkk. Marcus!”

Why did I even look around? As if the surroundings after being kidnapped would be any different. It never is. Its always this stupid room. God, I hate it.

“Hold on a moment- finishing this game.” He unsurprisingly responds, from the floor at the foot of the bed where a TV is set up on the floor- not at all fazed at the fact that his abduction victim is awake.

I wriggle my wrists, trying to free them from the tent rope tying them together. “Whatever. Just hurry up and untie me. I’m getting rope burn.”

“Mmm,” Marcus makes an unsure sound back, and I can imagine his face right now even though I cant see it, all twisted up at the nose and the mouth. A harbinger of dread, honestly. My heart feels like it plummets in my chest, right down to my feet. Don’t tell me- “Yeahh, I don’t think so. Not this time, babe. One too many escapes. I told you, you try to leave me one more time and you’ll lose Mr Nice Guy.” He makes a clicking sound with his tongue, as I screw my own face up in confusion. ‘Mr Nice Guy’, did he just say? Oh, please- “Well. You lost him.”

That... doesn't sound good. I mean, no part of this situation with him is good, but this definitely feels like a tipping point. I feel nauseous suddenly. “What do you mean?”

“Oh!” Suddenly the TV makes an especially loud noise and the sound of the controller clicking gets more vigorous, as apparently Marcus gets to a particularly difficult part of the game- then celebratory music plays and Marcus gets up, and flops on the bed next to you. “Whoo! I won. Beat the game.” He beams at me, like I actually give a flying fuck that he came first in Mario cart at 100cc, like the loser that he is, and I just look back totally deadpanned.

I blink, trying to totally show him with my expression and my tone how little this matters right now. Or ever. “Like I care?”

“Don’t be a bitch.” It should say something about me, and about him, that I used to flinch every time this boy called me that, but now I don't even blink. We’ve been doing this thing for over a decade, since high school when Marcus wasn't a total psycho, so nothing about him surprises me much anymore.

Not that he isn't, unfortunately, full of surprises even so.

“Don’t be a psycho kidnapper.” I beam back patronisingly.

“Ahh, stalemate.” He grins, dropping his hand on my thigh... which... twistedly... still has an effect on me. Not that I ever let him know that, but, it definitely does. Sometimes I wonder, honestly, if that’s why I never successfully escape. Not because he or his butt ugly prison friends are master criminals or anything, but because I’m still holding on to an insane secret hope that somewhere in Marcus is the boy who took me to prom and spiked the punch, and turned up to drive me 3 hours home - to this bedroom, actually, - from a disastrous family holiday that made me cry to him for 2 more hours on the phone, and was happy to do so. Because sometimes he still is that guy.

... Because on a subconscious level I let him find me and drag me back here... even though consciously, I know this is

-wrong.

And abusive...

and toxic.

But on the other hand maybe not. Whatever. Moving on. Taking a deep breath to regather myself and glance up at him, eyes flashing angrily. Through my teeth, I hiss. “Let go.”

Deeply, entirely hard-done-by, Marcus sighs and rolls his eyes, removing his hand. “Whatever.” I sigh, and lean my head back on the wall- tired. Tired of him, tired of this whole awful game.

But we go on. We live on; We keep playing. Everyone does. That’s life.

What else can you do?

Finally, a couple of minutes later, I turn my head to look at him again and wait for him to catch my gaze and turn his own head to face me back. I talk quietly, calmly, tiredly. “... what did you mean by no more Mr Nice Guy?”

“Just that.” He exclaims and shrugs, like it explains everything. Which it absolutely does not, but instead of snapping at him I just raise my eyebrows and wait for more of an explanation. “That... you’ll stay tied up. Most of the time, anyway. I mean, you can take showers and stuff without the rope, and on your birthday.”

“Oh, well aren't you just a regular Prince Charming.” I sigh, rolling my eyes and gazing up at the ceiling now. Great.

He either didn’t get a feel for the sarcasm or doesn't care. “Well I think so! So does mom.”

“Oh god.” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. He’s such a loser. “Norman Bates, much?”

At the reference that he definitely gets, because we binged the first season of Bates Motel together, like nearly everything else that we do apart from my escaping hobby, Marcus shifts closer to me and bangs the back of his head on the wall. “Oh, Y/N, that’s gross.” Oh so he claims, I think sarcastically, rolling my eyes yet again. Whatever. “I love you.”

“Yeah, right.” I respond, dully, not even looking at him. At my obvious doubt, he begins to laugh. First chuckles, then full out, raucous laughter. Like its the most hilarious thing that he might not be in love with me. Like- why would he do all this to me? Kidnap me, keep me prisoner, force me to stay with him, tie me up- If he didn’t fucking love me?

I mean I have some ideas, but lets go with his story.

“I do!” He shakes his head, eyebrows knit together in confusion and hurt at my ridiculous accusation that he doesn't love me. “I do, baby.” He shifts so he can look me in the eyes and force a serious look... a goofy grin still stuck on his face that is not encouraging or confidence building at all. “I do. I fucking love you!”

When he gets like this, its best to pretend like I believe him. Take a deep breath, adjust my thoughts - like you’re going to school and you have to remember that the place is educating you, and that’s good... not thats it's a torture institution for youth. For example, Marcus isn't a psychopathic dick-face. He’s... sometimes, sweet,- , and force a gentle smile. Hold my breath and cup his face the best I can with my wrists tied up, with one hand and lace my fingers through his hair with the other- and try not to like it so much.

Or like it on a purely physical level and try to ignore the way, deep down, I love him.

“... You’re right. Sorry. I know you do, baby, thank you. I... I love you too.”

Easily his expression and his body relax, and he grins that goofy grin again that unfortunately still releases the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. “I know. Sorry, I freak out a little when you say stuff like that.” Oh, I know. “I just wouldn't want you to think that I do anything to hurt you. I just want you close.”

“I know.”

He smiles brighter, happy for the positive appraisal and apparent trust from me- especially in the particularly sensitive mood he’s in with me touching him.

Then he leans across the way and kisses me.

#Superstore #Superstore x Reader #Yandere #Yandere Superstore #Yandere Fic #TW: Yandere #TW: Abuse #TW: Abusive Relationship #TW: Abduction #Marcus White #Superstore Marcus #Marcus White x Reader #Yandere!Marcus White

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