#yandere! tord

[demigknight]

Redraw of an old picture!

MCYLS :3

[xxdark-obsessionxx]

I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor.

Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down.

BIG MISTAKE

I was supposed to be asleep five hours ago but I couldn’t until I finished this. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky.

CW: Noncon

Dark themes ahead, please read at your own discretion and keep yourself safe. This is a work of fiction and I do not condone or support scenarios like this in real life

_____________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He had seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were absolutely determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

He grabs the edge of your blanket and pulls it off. His smile grows sappy. “You did go for the red pants like I suggested.” He giggles, staring between your legs. “I wonder if there’s a match beneath them.”

That snaps you out of your shocked stupor. You scramble off your bed, slamming your head hard against your nightstand as you try to avoid Tord’s lunging grasp. 

You lay fetal on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your head. “Fuck,” you hiss.

Tord clicks his tongue. He slowly climbs off your bed, crouching next to you. “My poor clumsy sweetheart.” 

You feel his hands in your hair. 

“What do you want?” you gasp. Fear and pain mix as you start to cry into your carpet. 

His hands stroke your hair. 

“You.” 

With that, you’re powerless to stop him as he scoops you up into his arms. You thrash as he dumps you back onto your bed, pinning you down. 

“I know you're scared but it’s ok. I’ll be gentle, my love. So gentle.”

Your mind can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Tord isn’t supposed to be tying your wrists to your headboard. He isn’t supposed to be kissing your neck and grinding his hard arousal between your legs. He isn’t supposed to be in your home. 

“Such a good girl, staying still for me,” Tord says softly as he pulls back. He slides your pants down. Disappoint clouds his eyes when he sees your panties aren’t red but it’s deepened when he pulls those down and you’re barely wet.

“It’s ok sweets. I’ll figure out what gets you going. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in needing help.” 

Anger wells in your chest as Tord fishes for something in one of his pockets. How dare he. How dare he parrot your own advice back at you. As if this was a simple therapy session. As if you were the patient and he was the doctor wanting to help. 

“Get off me!” you snarl. “You know this isn’t right Tord. Y-you’re sick! You need help!” 

Tord stops what he’s doing to stare dead eyed at you. He plucks a clean rag off your nightstand and stuffs it into your mouth. 

“Enough of that,” he scolds. “You need this as much as I do. In fact, doctors orders.” 

He grins at his own twisted joke. He fishes through his pockets again and pulls out a small bottle of lube. “Yes, just what my love needs. A good thorough fuck.” 

You desperately try to spit the rag out but your mouth is too dry. You twist and tug your wrists but to no avail. This was happening. Your gentle, sweet patient was going to take your virginity. 

Tord carefully squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together. He parts your folds, humming appreciatively as he rubs your clit. 

“That’s it, my good girl. Get nice and wet for me.” 

You feel sick. Against your will, his crooning and his touches stir up arousal inside you. You close your eyes as he gently fingers you as if he was searching for something. 

A minute later, your eyes fly open as he jabs something horrible. Your pussy grows slick from it, pleasure building in your lower stomach. 

“There it is.”

You shake your head violently. Not there, you try to plead with your eyes. Anywhere but there! 

But Tord merely smiles at you and ruthlessly abuses that spot. Over and over his fingers jab and curl,  rubbing it. You squeeze your eyes tight, small moans making their way out of your throat as pleasure jolts through you.. His thumb strokes your clit and you cum embarrassedly fast. You stare at the ceiling and wish you hadn’t wanted to cum at all. 

“Good girl,” Tord praises. He pulls his fingers out, eying them appreciatively. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks, moaning. “So sweet. But I’m too impatient to try it from the source. You’ll have to forgive me, my love.” 

Panic jolts up your spine as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. You try to climb up your bed rest but you only achieve getting a little higher up on your pillows. Tord sighs and presses forward. 

“It’ll hurt for a moment but I promise this will feel good,” Tord tries to soothe. He picks up the lube and squeezes more into his palm and strokes himself. 

You hate him. You hate him with all your heart. 

He pushed forward and once again, you squeezed your eyes tight. His hand roughly grabs your throat. 

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “I want to see how good I make you feel.” 

The fear overturns the pain and you quickly open your eyes. He pushes further in, reaching down to run your clit. 

Tord rocks his hips a little, eyes starstruck as he stares down at you. “You’re getting wetter,” he mumbles to himself. A grin spreads across his face. 

His hips snap forward, setting a firm pace. He stops rubbing your clit to grab under your thighs. He lifts them up and pushes until they’re almost touching your breasts. 

He thrusts harder and- 

You squeal, bucking your hips as he hits that horrible spot. You can’t stop bucking your hips, jolts of pleasure stabbing your stomach and stars in your eyes. 

Tord pressed closer to you, caging you in. He holds your gaze intensely, panting a little. His eyes dart between your face and your bouncing tits. 

Like earlier, you cum fast. This one hits you harder. And Tord doesn’t stop. 

You cum again and he pulls out. “Move and I’ll beat your ass with a belt,” he growls. He pulls out a switchblade and cuts the rope off your headboard. He’s quick to tie your wrists together. 

You find yourself on your stomach, ass up. Tord firmly holds your hips. He enters again, pressing down against you. Caging you against the mattress as he pounds into your pussy hard. By the time you’re cumming again, he finally cums with you. 

You’re crying by this point. Overstimulation has you cringing, your pussy tingling as he pulls out. Once again, you start to panic. Tord had come inside you. You thrash underneath him. 

“Stop that,” he hisses, slapping your ass hard. You cry harder as he does it another three times. And another, until you finally go still. 

You hear Tord sigh harshly. “I need to be patient with you,” he mumbles to himself. He gets off of you and you hear him leave the room. 

He’s back within minutes, holding a wet hand towel. You’re gently turned over onto your back and he softly cleans you up. You can’t look at him. 

“Mrrow.” 

Your heart jolts. Your cat jumps onto the bed, purring as Tord pets him with his clean hand. Traitor. 

“You rest while I pack,” Tord says softly. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll grab everything you need and love for our new home.” 

He climbs off the bed and leaves the room again. He comes back with duffel bags. Your cat paddles up to you and curls up next to you. He purrs hard as you sob your eyes out.

[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

[therealestgalthereis]

YANDERE RED LEADER TORD X READER

Warnings; Mentions of stalking, drugging, kidnapping "And I've got eyes to watch you sleep" - Stalker's Tango ---------------------- For weeks now, you had been on edge. Not only was your.. 'lovely' London being taken hold of by the Red army, but an odd feeling had developed. It was like you were being watched almost constantly, you could feel someone's eyes on you often, and it made your skin crawl. Everday you'd have your blinds closed, making the effort to stray far away from any windows whilst changing. It never helped. 'Paranoid. I'm just paranoid," you thought to yourself as you brushed your teeth. The feeling of being watched had only worsened today - to the point you had called in sick from work just to avoid going outside. Spitting out the toothpaste into your sink, you ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm down your nerves. You switched the bathroom light off, stepping into your dimly lit hallway. Standing at the end of it was a tall man. Your heart began racing and you blinked, narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better look at whoever was inside your apartment. Looking away for a moment, you tried to convince yourself you had gone delusional with fear - and you wished you had. Once you looked back, it.. was gone. A sigh of relief escaped you. Then, you felt a hand snake around your waist. "GET THE HELL OFF ME!" you screeched, eyes wide with fear. "Shh, don't thrash around so much," a voice with a Norwegian accent cooed in your ears. It was deep, and gruff, almost scratchy. It send shivers down your spine. You felt his other hand grab something in his pocket, before he slammed it over your mouth. It was a cloth, and it smelled funny. For a few more moments, you thrashed around, before slowly going limp. Tord easily supported your weight, a fond smile spreading across his scarred face 'Finally..' he thought to himsef, a content sigh escaping him. He had been stalking you for months, and couldn't help himself from finally getting what he so deeply wanted. You.

[youregunnabemine]

CHAPTER THREE; "Awkward is an understatement."

{Y/N} flinched back slightly, eyes widening. Mr. Larkson was staring straight at her now. The two made eye contact, interest on his scarred face. She kept her eyes trained on him, furrowing her eyebrows slightly. After a minute or two of intense eye contact, {Y/N} looked away, swallowing thickly. 'It.. doesn't matter. Not gonna talk to him if I have any say in it.' she thought to herself firmly, stalking off to one of the other patrons. Almost half an hour had passed, and {Y/N} had forgotten all about the mobster sitting a few tables away, busying herself with preparing drinks. That was until she looked over slightly, and saw him sitting at a bar stool. She swore her heart stopped. When did he even get there? Soon though, she felt annoyance bubble to the surface. One thing. She wanted one thing - to avoid him. And now he was somewhere she couldn't ignore him. Begrudgingly, {Y/N} made her way slowly to him. She didn't want to, but she'd never hear the end of it from her boss if she ignored a patron. So, once she had found herself in front of the man, she offered her best smile. "What'll it be?" She asked in an almost chipper tone, though all she wanted to do was get the fuck out of there.

The man took one last drag on his cigar, before snuffing it out on the pub table in front of him. When he finally spoke, {Y/N} wished he had kept his mouth shut. His voice was rasped, gruff. It sounded almost guttural. She assumed the reason for his disturbing voice was all the scars - made her wonder how he had gotten such a bad injury. "You got Aquavit?" He had asked, leaning forward across the counter slightly. ..Aquavit? Okay, now that was something {Y/N} was sure they didn't have. {Y/N} shook her head, "Eh.. no, I don't think so." For a moment or two, his face went sour, "Well.. whatever." A small grin spread on his face, "Y'know, you're quite the sight," he mused, raising his eyebrows, "Got a name?" In that moment, every red-flag went off in {Y/n}'s mind. She didn't want this murderer knowing her name! But she wasn't stupid, and knew it was much easier to answer his question. "..{Y/N}, I'm {Y/N} {L/N}." He whistled appreciatorily, "{Y/N} {L/N}, eyh? Gorgeous." He chuckled. Truth be told; {Y/N} wanted to get the fuck out of here. Perhaps to Tord, he was having the time of his life, finally able to talk to his little lady. But {Y/N}? This was horrifying. She didn't want to be associated with some murderer

[obsessive-sin]

Consider: Alpha Red Leader keeping his omega as a pet, only kept around for looking pretty and warming his knot.

IM CONSIDERING

________________________________________

No one would meet his eye. Stares were pointedly away from him, even when he’d speak. It was as amusing as it was irritating.

Perhaps next time Tord wouldn’t be so kind as to keep his omega covered. The poor thing, he was being such a good pet too. Not making a single sound despite Tord’s cock being stuck against his sweet spot, knot keeping them both stuck together. Even sitting perfectly still when Tord would reward him with touching his cock.

No one else in this dreadful room appreciated either of them.

Oh well. At least his knot was pleasantly warm. It wasn’t too often he had the time to properly mount his omega.

“You’re all dismissed,” Tord said, waving his hand.

His guests left rather quick. Irritation arose again but he pushed it down. Soon he’ll be able to go home back to his spouse.

A pulse went through his dick at the thought of them. His pet was lovely but his spouse was his everything. So much so that no one knew about them. And Tord would keep it that way. His pet was to keep everyone away from them, to make it look as if all he has was the pretty omega he dragged around everywhere.

“Sir.”

“Hm?”

Tord blinked out of his train of thought. His hand went back to his pets cock and lazily stroked.

“Permission to speak?”

“No. You’re going to sit here until my knot is fully away.” Tord pinched the tip of his omegas cock. A warning. “Understand?”

He nods and says nothing. Good boy.

If he kept it up, Tord would let him cum once more before he left. For being such a well behaved pet.

[sillymaxing]

I just found your blog and your writing is SO good omg

May I request platonic yandere future tord with a younger sibling reader?

RAHHHH FIRST SELF INSERT OF THIS BLOG LETS GOOOO!!!!

Platonic Yandere Tord & Younger sibling reader part 1

Gender Neutral reader

Btw, this is kinda like prologue. You don’t actually meet Tord in this part. I PROMISE IM WORKING ON THE NEXT PART. This just started feeling way too long for me.

You were born 8 years after Tord was born.

Growing up with him was filled with bickering, but also a scary undying loyalty from his end.

God, you wish you could go back in time and relive those days. He was your go-to for almost everything. Your best friend.

He moved out to search for apartments when he was 21. You were just about 13 at the time.

House after house, apartment after apartment, Tord had trouble getting on his feet. But throughout your teenage years you stayed in contact. You two stayed very close.

Until one day, when you were turning 18, All of Tord’s social medias seemed to just disappear. You had decided to reach out to him, blowing up his phone, but he never responded. You asked his roommates what happened.

They said he just left in a hurry. He packed his things and was gone.

For a long time you obsessed over finding him. You gave up after a few years.

You moved out when you were 20, able to find your own apartment and get on your feet relatively easily.

You had never forgotten about your brother. The way he abandoned you. Left everything behind.

You knew he wasn’t kidnapped. He obviously took the time and effort to wipe himself off the face of the internet.

And sure, you cried and screamed and threw a fit for a while, but eventually you decided to put it behind you.

Plus, all that is the least of your worries when you start to notice a car outside of your apartment. Tinted windows. You couldn’t see inside. It would park on your street and stay there.

For the next week things felt off. The whole town seemed tense. You would occasionally see strangely dressed figures lurking around town in blue trench coats.

Eventually, someone got out of the car. And they came to your door.

It was a man with an upside-down name tag, you could barely make it out.

He explained to you that your brother wanted to see you. Tord wanted to see you. He explained that you could go willingly or go fighting.

A part of you was curious, but this was certainly an odd way of reaching out. You didn’t trust it.

But still, you complied. Plus, this dude was carrying a gun.

He told you to pack your things. Personal items and any medication. He explained that all toiletries, clothing and food would be covered by Tord.

Something twisted in your gut. Something was wrong. Something told you that you weren’t gonna see this place again.

While packing, you decided to call the cops. The phone call didn’t go through. Actually, nothing seemed to go through to anyone. You tried to reach out for help, but all your communications were seemingly cut.

The man seemed to notice these attempts, but didn’t say anything.

After about 20 minutes, he was ushering you into the backseat of the car. There was another man in the driver’s seat.

He looked serious and mean. Cold. He didn’t even give you a glance.

It was a long drive, and any questions you asked were just met with silence. You tried to open up your door at one point, but it was locked. Child safety or whatever.

Eventually you pass out. It gets late, and you’re just being driven on empty roads.

Of course, eventually you do end up at the Red Army base.

And it isn’t likely that you’ll be leaving anytime soon.

[straight-2-heaven]

Chapter 2.

The ride to the airport, and the plane ride was boring, disappointingly so. But, you were sure things would be well worth it by the time you were done. Catch a dictator in the making. Help him get his jailtime (or execution). Get into danger trying to see what he looked like. Be known as a hero. The perfect plan, in your mind. You'd be a world-star. A hero. And live to tell the tale! Stepping out of the lightened interior of the airport into the dark London, you had but one thing on your mind. Sleep. Yeah. You were tired as fuck. As much as you knew perhaps you should head straight to see the prime minister, the idea of resting your head on some pillow was making it difficult to think of anything else. As much as you wanted to get the best house on the London market, you assumed it'd be wise to 'lay low'. After an hour of walking around whilst scrolling through houses for sale, you found one for dirt cheap. The owner was a man named 'Edd Gold'. It seemed sketchy, but it looked nice enough. Only problem was there was (including Edd) four people there already. But, to be honest, in your eyes it simply made things more interesting, for all you know one of those four could be the Red leader. Before showing up to the house, you felt it smart to buy a few, small cameras. As much as you'd like to show them you trusted the four residing there, to convince yourself to trust them fully would be stupid. You wouldn't put them in their rooms, of course, or the bathrooms, just.. around. Where they wouldn't be able to see them.

[stela20]

( Eddsworld Yandere Tord x Y/N حبيبتي ، سوف تكون لي يوما ما ️)

هذي صفحتي من موقع quotev و حبيت انشر قصتي

❤ استمتعو

[scarletwaffles]

Im bored #2

I have nothing better to do

[luciel-anciel]

Oblivious (Matt x Edd)

A/N: Not my best work so far TT

TW: Toxic Relationship, and Unhealthy Mindset.

====================

The remnants of the argument lingered in the air as Matt stood in the dimly lit kitchen, Tom and Tord had left, their departure marked by slammed doors and harsh words, though their words cut through his skin—he took a deep breath and tried not to care so much.

"Matt, you can't just choose to make us cut ties with him!" " Matt could still hear Tom's voice, loud and clear about his lover's freedom. As if! He knows that Edd willingly stayed with him— they act as if he's trapped.

"What are you saying? He chose me, didn't he?!" The taller male retorted, the kitchen counter shook from how furious he was. Matt was rarely the type to get angry, mostly oblivious to his actions and happy-go-lucky at every given situation but when the situation involved his relationship, especially being torn apart then something inside him sparked— that it made his anger go haywire.

"I can decide what's good for him."

"This is unhealthy, Do you know who helped you—" But the horned man, wasn't able to finish his sentence as Matt was quick to cut him off.

It worsened the tense situation but in his innocent sky blue eyes, the ginger believed that he was acting like his lover's knight in shining armor by protecting him by unwanted actions from their so-called called 'friends' that tried to rip them apart.

"I appreciate your unwanted opinion, Tord but leave me and my relationship alone."

And hence, the door slammed; the hinges almost breaking off by how loud the slam was. The two were forced to leave as Matthew pushed them away, he saw how Tord almost punched him right in the face but his blue hooded friend immediately interjected, he knew that violence wouldn't be a good thing — yet.

Now he sat on his couch, his shared couch with Edd, old but gold.

He turned to Edd with a cautious look, who was quiet during the whole ordeal, who sat on the worn-out couch, staring at the carpeted floor. Being the middleman, the brunette was always the one trying to stop arguments but it was understandable to Matt, why he was acting so reluctant and quiet when the argument was based on him, choosing which side he was on.

Edd seemed to be deep in thought, and stared up with open eyes, completely caught off guard, with Matt trying to converse with him.

"Edd? Are you okay?"

The brunette didn't seem to respond, he didn't know what to say next, but it worried the ginger greatly, his heart tightened whenever Edd gave him silent treatment, he yearned for his voice, his praises— all the affections.

Matt took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he knelt to stare at his brown glossy eyes, the silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken words.

"I did it, Edd. I kicked them out," Matt finally spoke, his voice a mix of triumph and uncertainty.

The brunette looked up, his eyes reflecting a complex array of emotions – surprise, sadness, and perhaps a hint of relief, maybe because the argument finally ended.

Matt gently held onto the plump man's chin, softly pulling his face forward, and leaned for a kiss, feeling Edd's chapped lips against his soft pink lips. It was slightly uncomfortable, feeling the dryness of his lips but the pale-skinned adult didn't care so much— just the feeling of their lips against each other sent a nice feeling to his mind.

He deluded himself to believe that Edd, also felt the same, the distance between them suddenly feeling like an unspoken chasm.

"Edd, I need you to see me. Only me. Aren't I beautiful, Edd? Please say I'm beautiful," Matt's voice wavered, his desperation laid bare. His grasp on Edd's face only tightened, his eyes searching for a sign, any sign that he was the one Edd wanted, instead of staring at those dimmed brown eyes.

His expression remained guarded, but a flicker of vulnerability crossed his eyes.

After every stressful situation, he craved any sort of praise, begging to receive compliments even when he seemed desperate.

As Matt continued to plead, his confession spilled out like a torrent. "I want to be the only one you see, the only one you love. I can't stand sharing you with them, my dear. I've loved you for so long, and I can't bear the thought of losing you to anyone else." The room seemed to close in, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

Edd's gaze softened, remembering how this relationship felt so warm yet now it suffocated him.

He didn't say anything and went to the guest room to sleep for tonight, Matt soon followed after but that face Edd made; his usual upturned smile was a deep grimace with his brows knitted together and it made him stop in his tracks.

The freckled adult didn't want to leave Edd— after that whole ordeal, he just wanted to cuddle with the brunette all the time but perhaps, against his judgment, he'd leave him alone for now.

And watched as his lover closed the door, shutting him off the door.

°

°

°

°

Splashing his face with cold water, He gaze upwards to stare at his exhausted expression, from tossing and turning all night. He could barely get a wink of sleep, with his mind clouded with demeaning thoughts.

A deep sigh escaped the young man's lips, a frown glued to his chapped lips whilst he stared at his reflection in the mirror; simply uttering a few words of distaste just beneath his breath upon noticing the bags and dark circles that had developed just beneath his gloomy eye, which were caused by a visible lack of proper sleep.

Now here he was, looking like a mess—with disheveled hair, strands pointing everywhere and tried to comb them using his fingers, but alas, his attempt was futile; a clear contrast to his usual cherry appearance.

Another deep yawn came out, the green-hooded man woke up at early dawn as he quietly stuffed his bag with necessities, careful not to wake up his partner.

And opened the door, attempting to leave but Matt was already standing there with wide eyes, unreal eyes that scared Edd, half to death.

His shining blue eyes stared deep into Edd's frightened expression.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"I heard you tossing and turning. Are you alright? I can make your favorite food—"

"Matt Stop, please-!"

"You must be starving, you need to eat something"

"Matt, just please stop."

"Talk to me, please? What's wrong?"

A fragile smile tugged at the corners of his lips, remembering the events from last night, it was forever etched inside his mind.

"Matt, it's not that simple. Love isn't about possessing someone. It's about understanding, trust, and—"

"No, Edd! It's about being with the person who makes your heart race, who consumes your thoughts. And that person is me," Matt interrupted, his eyes pleading for reciprocation. The air crackled with tension, the room a battleground of conflicting emotions.

Edd took a moment, his eyes locked with Matt's. As Edd distanced himself, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong between him and Matt.

The feelings in their relationship gnawed at him, making it hard to breathe. Edd found himself questioning not just their relationship but whether continuing to live this way was even worth it?

It felt like an unbearable burden. It wasn't just their relationship that seemed toxic; life itself felt like an overwhelming struggle, and Edd couldn't escape the sinking feeling.

"Matt, love is complicated. I need time to figure this out."

Matt's shoulders slumped, the weight of his confession hanging in the air.

As Edd got up and walked away, the room echoed with uncertainty, leaving Matt alone with the haunting question of whether love could conquer all.

[demigknight]

Hey updated this ao3 cross posting

It’s My Cringy Yandere Story!

[xxdark-obsessionxx]

I completely forgot I did this on ao3. Here’s a male!reader version of this fic.

CW: Non-con, overstimulation, mentions of Stalking, Tord ties up Reader and it's implied he kidnapped him.

_______________________________________________

“I love you so much,” Tord muttered, leaning down next to your ear. “You’re perfect for me, you know? And I’m perfect for you. ” He moved his hand from your hip and strokes your cock. A soft smile formed on his face as your face flushed and muffled moans slipped through your gag. A few of his own moans left his mouth as your ass clamped down on his cock.

“It’s like you were made for me. With the ways your tight walls are squeezing me, it’s like you're begging me to never leave. Don’t you agree? I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

Of course, you couldn’t answer, but he still liked talking to you. It was such a shame that he had to keep you gagged. Overwise you just spewed vile, mean comments at him until he fucked you into an incoherent mess.

He peppered your neck with kisses as he thrust his hips faster. You were close, he knows you are. Tord moved his hand away from your dick and raised your legs to his shoulders. With the angle change, he easily found your sweet spot and pounded into you, once again stroking and rubbing your dick.. The bed shook from his harsh pace, but he paid no mind to it. His gaze was solely focused on you.

You squealed and thrashed, but the restraints holding your arms to the headboard didn’t budge and he didn’t let either of your legs slide off his shoulders.

Soon your body shook as you clamped down on Tord’s cock, moans falling from your mouth uncontrollably.

Tord grinned, removing his hand to lick your release off it.

“Good boy, you taste wonderful, ” Tord cooed, brushing strands of your hair out of your face. He continued to thrust into you but instead of pounding into you like he was before, his pace was slow and deep. “Can you cum for me again? Please, sweetheart?”

You frantically shook your head. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“None of that,” he chided. He kissed the corners of your eyes and made sure every thrust hit your sweet spot. “I know you can do it. You like cumming for me over and over, don’t you?” His face flushed as his eyes clouded, a few specific memories popping up in his mind. “Remember how you’d touch yourself, those late nights after work? Oh, how you’d slip your hands into your pretty underwear and coax orgasm after orgasm from yourself. Jack yourself off until you couldn’t get hard anymore.”

Your face turned red and Tord laughed. “It’s alright! There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Those nights helped me figure out how to take care of you properly. I wouldn’t have known that you liked to go more than once if otherwise.” He kissed you over the gag, not minding that he couldn’t have a real kiss yet. “Or, when you bought yourself that nice dildo.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “Nmpf!”

Tord laughed, knowing what you meant. “Yes! I did see that. Although it wasn’t quite as large as mine, it was very lovely to watch you finally try and take care of yourself properly. You deserve better pleasure than what your hands can bring you.”

Breathing heavily through your nose, you shut your eyes and scrunched your nose. You knew exactly what he was talking about and you heavily regretted ever using the dildo you bought. Actually, you really regretted never making sure your blinds were closed. That was never on your mind since you lived in a mostly empty neighborhood. Leave it to Tord to stalk you from the empty house next door.

A grin formed on his face.

“How about we recreate that? But,” he switched from his slow pace to sharply jab your sweet spot a few times, causing your eyes to snap open, “with my own cock instead of that fake?”

He didn’t wait for any kind of response. Tord pulled his cock out of your ass and carefully slid your legs off his shoulders. Being mindful of your restraints, he gently hoisted you up and set you back down onto his cock.

You bucked your hips, causing you to slide down onto his cock fully. His hands held your hips steady and he slowly lifted you to bounce on his cock.

“Oh! You really like this, huh? Maybe I should do this more often. I hate to think I’m not taking care of your every need,” he cooed.

Your walls tighten again and your breathing becomes shallow. He groaned, gripping your hips tighter and slammed you down.

“That’s number 2!” He beamed as he fucked you through your release. “How about we stay like this for a few more?”

He made it sound like you had a choice. You really didn’t. And as he bucked up into you, causing orgasm number three to build, you leaned onto his chest to rest. He wasn’t going to stop until you were a crying mess, wringing as many orgasms out of you as he could.

[obsessivelyloved]

No no your fine! (Btw this is the same anon who asked the question), but um could you do something with Tord with this sentence? “stop looking at the door, please”

(Preferably with reader; but you can decide if you’d like to add that)

I haven't written anything this long in like two years

CW: Kidnapping

______________________________________________________

One moment you were walking home, the next, you were tied up in some guy's car, lying in the backseat. He looked giddy at the road as you screamed and begged through the gag in your mouth. He looked pained as he met your eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Stop tugging against the rope. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he scolded. Like he was really concerned for his victim. “We’ll be home soon.” 

You trembled, unable to stop yourself from tugging frantically at your wrists. The longer this went on, the more you felt as if someone was continuously dumping you into ice water. From your hogtied position on the seats, all you could see was the blue sky steadily dulling. It was hard to tell how long you lay there before the car stopped. 

The man opened the car door, carrying a duffel bag on his shoulder. You couldn’t see any recognizable sights. 

“You poor thing” he crooned, pulling you closer to him. He inspected your wrists, clicking his tongue. He bends down and slings you over his other shoulder. 

Frantically, you darted your head around. Houses went on for all you could see. There were no road signs, and no people outside. No eyes to see you carried inside. The door closed and tears blurred your vision. He set you on a couch, humming. 

“No more tears, love. I’ll take a look at your wrists and get you out of these nasty ropes.” He wiped your face with his red sleeve, much gentler than you would have ever expected. 

Hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe you could punch him? Or just, something! You had to be able to do something. 

He left the room and returned with…. pink fuzzy handcuffs? It was so absurd you almost stopped crying. 

“I’m sorry,” he says gently. “It was the only thing I could find on such short notice. I’ve got another pair coming in the mail, you’ll enjoy that color much more.” 

He sets the handcuffs down next to you, reaching down into his black jeans. Out of his pocket, he pulls out a switchblade. He firmly grabs your wrists, pulling them as far as he could from your body. 

You sit as still as you can. With wide eyes, you watch as he cuts through the rope. You barely move your hands an inch out of the ropes before he swiftly closes the cuffs on your wrists.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He pats your cheek, smirking. “Doesn’t that feel better?” 

You don’t bother trying to answer. Drool dribbles out of the corners of your mouth, pooling around the gag. 

Your kidnapper stands up straight, rolling his shoulders. “As much as I’d love to get you used to the house, my roommates will be home soon. They’re a bit… much. I don’t want to overwhelm you even more, sweetheart.” 

Nausea rolls through you. Your face felt hot and sticky, a fresh wave of hot tears starting again 

The man’s face softens. He reaches out, cupping your face. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re going to be fine. Let’s get you to my room and you can get cozy and start settling in.” 

He gathers you into his arms and over his shoulder again. This time, all you’re interested in is the blurry floor. Down a hall you go and into a bedroom. Laid down on the bed, you stare down at your wrists. From what you could see beneath the cuffs, they were an angry shade of red, rope marks snaking around your wrists. Tugging made it worse, pain shooting up your arms. 

The man moved around his room, singing under his breath. You couldn’t make out the words or what language it was. 

“Up we go now, dearest,” he says as he gently sits you up against his pillows. He has a different gag in his hands. 

As soon as he takes out the one you have, you rush out, “I won’t scream!” Your voice is hoarse and your throat is dry. He paused, eyebrows furrowed and you added shakily, “Please. I-I promise I won’t scream.” 

He sets it on his nightstand beside the bed. 

“A single shout from you and it goes right back into your pretty mouth. Understand?” 

You violently shake your head. “Y-Yes. I, I understand.” 

He smiles at you, sitting down next to you. “Good. It’d be such a shame if your first night home was… unpleasant.” 

You tense, turning your head away from him. Your heart races as you look around his room. Against his wall was a bookshelf, with both books and robotic parts. A TV was raised flat against his wall. On his dresser was….. Pictures of you. 

Your hands grow clammy as your mind struggles to process what you are seeing. Pictures of you. Are on. His dresser. 

What the fuck. What the fuck. 

His eyes follow your line of sight and he cheeses at you. 

“They’re my favorite ones,” He chuckles. “It took me a while to get them. You’re hardly ever outside your house without work clothes.” 

You sitting in a nook, curled up against a wall reading a book with a mug of coffee steaming on the table in front of you. You planting flowers. You excitedly looking at something, clearly beyond a camera. 

You in a cafe. In front of your house. At the mall. You don’t recall a single memory of the man beside you. Of ever seeing him in these places, much less someone pointing a camera at you.

“How long have you been…” your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. “How long have you been watching me?” 

The man leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Too long,” he mumbles against your skin. He kisses you again, not minding the tears. 

“Tord!!” 

You jerk your head to the bedroom door. Hope rises against your better judgment but you have the sense not to scream. 

The bedroom door opens to reveal a brown-haired man in a green hoodie. “Tord, we found the- Oh, hello!” He smiles at you, eyes warm and face nonchalant. Like this was normal. “You’re here much earlier than expected.” 

You say nothing, staring wide-eyed. 

He turns to the man -Tord you’re assuming- and scolds him. 

“You were supposed to wait until we had dinner ready!” 

Tord sheepishly shrugs. “They were walking home! It was perfect timing!” 

The brown-haired man rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m truly sorry,” he tells you. “But I suppose it’s good to let you get settled in first. I’ll be back with a hot drink.” 

He closes the door and like clockwork, you burst into sobs. You try to stifle them as best you can. It would be best not to test how loud it would take for you to be gagged again. 

You stare at the door as Tord pulls you close. “Oh honey,” he murmurs. “It’s going to be alright.” 

Tord grabs his remote on his nightstand and turns the TV on. You don’t need to look to know you’re hearing your favorite show. All you can do is helplessly stare at the door and strain your ears to hear how many other people are in the house. 

“Tom, move your damn vodka out of the fridge! You don’t need the whole pack cold at once!” 

One. 

“Oh so you can have all your soda cold but I can’t have my smirnoff in there?”

Two. 

“Not all of it’s mine! Some of it’s for Tord’s partner.” 

“Oh! They’re here?! I want to see them!” 

Three. 

“Wait until dinner. I’m sure the commie’s got his pants down by now.”

“Oh that’s just gross! Don’t talk like that Tom, it’s very rude. They in fact both had their pants on and clothing intact when I popped in.”

You don’t hear more than three voices bicker and move around. But still, it’s…. a lot. Four people total are keeping you in this house for god knows what reason. You refuse to think about the clothes comment. You wouldn’t you wouldn’t you wouldn’t or you were going to puke. 

“Stop looking at the door, please.” 

You nearly jump out of your damn skin hearing Tord’s voice. It snaps you out of your thoughts. You sniffle, taking deep breaths. You turn your attention to the tv and desperately try not to think about what fucked up situation you’re in.

[skateironicallycantskate]

the urge to put my current fav and childhood favs in a room together and see who goes insane first is slowly consuming me

[youregunnabemine]

CHAPTER TWO; "Not him."

Yet another day of grueling work. {Y/N} slid a glass of Bourbon to a man with shaggy brown hair, stubble, sunken eyes with slight eyebags underneath. "Thanks, miss." He gruffly mumbled. She weren't sure why, but he looked fairly familiar. Not someone {Y/N} had talked to or something, but she had seen Laurel laughing with him once or twice. "..So, you know Laurel?" He asked, sipping from his glass. {Y/N} quirked her head to the side at this, nodding. He chuckled, "So you must be {Y/N}, right?" Surprise flashed across her face, but she nodded, a smile tugging at her lips "The one and only." She said with a now big, proud smile. The man laughed roughly, setting down his glass. The liquid splashed out the side slightly. "Like that attitude! I'm Eduardo." He stuck out his hand, which looked worn, and calloused. Briskly, {Y/N} shook his hand. For a few minutes, the pair chatted, laughing and joking about god knows what. That was until one of your co-workers shouted for {Y/N} to come over. She sighed, waving bye to Eduardo. "What?" {Y/N} asked, placing a hand on her hip. "Shh!!" The coworker, Hellucard put his finger to his lips, before pointing at a table towards the back of the bar. It was the kind of place that had booths, most towards the exit. Sat in one, alone, was a man. He was tall, even sitting down. Deep brown hair that sat on his shoulders in a short mullet, though he had bangs that sat just above his eyes. Most oddly, in the front of his hair was two pieces standing on end, resembling heavily of devil horns. Clutched in a hand covered in what looked to be burn scars was a fat cigar, smoke rising and curling into intricate patterns before disappearing into the air But it wasn't his hair, not his scarred hand that caught {Y/N}'s eye. It was his face. The left side was normal, with smooth skin, sunken gray eye, and a sneer of his lips. But the right? Fuck was that a sight. Scars littered it. The eye grossly mutualized, parts of his jaw and chin almost looking like they were frayed. "Wait.. is that-!?" Hellucard laughed at {Y/N}'s sudden frightful response, and he nodded, "Yep! The Larkson." {ONE AND PROLLY ONLY A/N RN; I won't be using real last names ever.} "Why is he.. y'know.. here? Not like this place is much good anyways." {Y/N} kept her gaze fixed on Mr. Larkson, unease building up inside of her. "No idea," Hellucard shrugged, running a hand through his messy blond hair "..I don't like this." She mumbled to herself, a pit building in her stomach.