#ajin!reader

[ditzvang3l]

Ajin!Reader x Gachiakuta

AFAB!Reader, Ajin Demi Human x Gachiakuta, a little bit of a harem, morally grey reader

This is the first part to a series of a girl who was invincible. A girl who could die more times than she could count on all of her phalanges. But unlike the rest of these slubberdegullpion’s, she came back. every. fucking time.

A crossover between Ajin Demi-human and Gachiakuta. Where you are an Ajin, not by classification, think of it more as a gift only you possess. Your vital instrument threads deep into your bones, making you immortal.

WARNINGS: This will include d3ath, violence, explicit language, themes of se!f h4rm, detailed scenes of t0rtvre(future chapters), and d3ath in general. Please head this warning.

NO MANGA SPOILERS FOR EITHER ONE!

You are an immortal soldier, a deity some might say. An angel, or a devil. You were all of it. And it was the most thrilling thing your life has ever offered you.

The ground was a filthy place, filled with fools who didn’t know the difference between what came out of their asshole and mouth. You grew up in a poor area, a mom who was drunk on the dirt riddled couch and a dad who.. well, you weren’t sure. Your younger sister stayed in a hospital three miles from town, where you’d visit sometimes and bring her peaches and strawberries from the garden you were making.

Despite all of the hardships, you like to believe your life was peaceful. Sure, you had to steal sometimes and maybe got into a few fights a week, but all of that just made you better, stronger, more lethal.

You didn’t have anything you took care of, object wise. Nothing that you had ever gotten in life had much value to you. Except for your bandages.

You were a girl, and you were small as a child. Smaller than most, but that didn’t stop you from whoopin’ ass to whoever deserved it. You’d like to say you did it for survival, but really, it was the adrenaline the fight gave you that left you wanting more.

You were constantly wrapped in thick bandages, cotton ones that could stay on and be washed. Your younger sister would often wrap them for you, telling you,

“(Y/N), you should really be the one in the hospital instead of me..” She laughed, shaking her head as she finished your arm. They covered most of your body, and half of them were self inflicted. Not in the way some might think, don’t get it twisted. You were just adventurous, and when you were fighting you were running, with a bag of goods that was the cause. So, you’d get yourself hurt, but it was never anything you couldn’t handle.

You ruffled your sisters hair, earning complaints from the younger girl. She had chronic illness, forced to stay in the hospital on most days. She got one day a week to go out, and when she did you’d take her to places you’d found on your adventures, pretty places, as pretty as it could get on the ground, anyway.

The two of you were close, you’d like to think. She was the only family you truly had. Of course, you had friends, though. You were charismatic, chatty, eccentric, and most of all, you were loyal. People liked that about you. Making connections got you things, like food, sometimes flowers or trinkets, others time even shelter.

You liked your life, it was just how you wanted it. It was fun, you were always making a good time for yourself no matter where you were or what happened to you. Always living life to the fullest.

Suppose, that’s how you ended up where you were now. A shadow looming over you as a foot, made of trash and used goods, came down on you. You don’t remember much about it, just maybe the sickening crack of every bone in your body being crushed into the dry ground below you, and the feeling of being.. for lack of better vocabulary, flattened like a pancake. You’ve never had a pancake, but you were sure this is what it felt like to be one.

Everything was dark, nothing was left but a mangled corpse, the man above you had reported.

Then a sound came, crackling like roaches in a chip bag or static from an old TV. Fizzling, was what it was. The sound your body was making. Your bandages, that had been pressed into your body forcefully and combined with your limbs, had began to darken, turning a black color. Slowly, but not slow enough, your body had began to untwist and mend itself back together. The fizzling sound combined with a crunch as your bones reformed and reconnected, returning to their normal state of being.

The bandages that had been tight around you as they reassembled your organs had loosened, and the black color they turned had faded back into an off white, looking cleaner than they did before.

And when the fizzling fizzled out, you took a breath. One that you shouldn’t have been able to make, on account for your lungs, ribs, and everything else in your being crushed.

You slowly and shakily lifted your arms to your sides, pushing yourself up off of the blood soaked ground beneath you. A grin cracked open on your face, a giggling sound beginning to bubble up from your throat at the tingling sensation your regeneration left behind.

Finally, you noticed a choked gasp in front of you, coming from a tall shadow covering your figure. You looked up, your eyes still having a faint glow to them.

You and the stranger’s eyes met.

[diejager]

hi! i love your work and wanted to request a monster 141 + kortac with a reader inspired by the manga/anime ajin?

if youre not familiar with it, i have some wiki pages for you if you'd like

https://ajin.fandom.com/wiki/Ajin_(Race)

https://ajin.fandom.com/wiki/Invisible_Black_Matter

i was thinking of a scenario where everyone is in danger and reader causes a flood phenomenon? or maybe reader has a black ghost that has wings and they use it for transportation?

idk i kinda wanna let you do whatever you want with this idea. anyways i just thought it was something cool and would love to see your take on it. have a nice rest of day

Cw: blood, gore, injury/wounds, IBM, murder, canon typical violence, guns, monster AU, tell me if I missed any. Note: I used to ADORE Ajin, I'm still not used to the animation style, but I stopped at one point while reading the manga. I would recommend it to those who are curious about Ajin.

There was a danger in working so closely with doctors and people in the scientific field, especially with the constitution of your being. Capture and experimentation were constant dangers to those who knew or found out what you were: your body revitalising when you died with a blank slate, any disease, sickness and wounds gone the moment your eyes opened with a new gasp of life.

Despite your fears and worries, you found your abilities more effective and needed as a combat medic than a field medic. With your experiences with monsters/hybrids and your undying body, it only made sense for you to play this small, but vital cog in the machine that made up this Joint Task Force. You were fortunate that Laswell was a trusted figure, placing you in a good spot. Terror be damned, you were a damn good operator and that wouldn’t stop you from doing your job.

You didn’t have time to stop and falter, hesitation to act on the field could become dangerous and you weren’t about to let another operator die on your watch —especially when the enemies, on the other side of the wall you were trying to pass, were the scums of the earth.

“Gaz, cover me!”

With his quick reply, you inched closer to your objective, passing the hole-riddled wall and through the rubble of another. Laying against the blockade of furniture, she slumped on one side, wincing and groaning as she pressed her red-stained hand over her bleeding abdomen. You acted swiftly, working on stabilising her wound and stopping the flow of blood loss from the gunshot to the abdomen.

Callisto swore a sea of curses, all murmured grunts that you didn’t bother understanding. Your mind zeroed into staunching the blood flow, your gloved hands turning red while you pressed the gauze to it. You let out a calming reply here and there, words you both knew were fodder to drown out the loud booms of the firefight across from you. You were stuck in the middle of the battle, and Gaz was not too far away, but you needed to get her to a safer area to care for her appropriately. The only issue was that you were stuck, without proper cover, you wouldn’t be able to make it out without a wound or two.

“Price,” you spoke clearly and confidently, one hand lingering on Callisto and another on your com.

“What is it, Hunter?” there was a tired groan behind his words.

“Do we need them alive?” you asked, “Any?”

“Two.”

That was all you needed before the air cracked around you, popping and thundering as black matter oozed from your body like a storm of static. It swirled behind you, forming a tall and lanky creature, looming over you three, shadowy wings spread far and wide: a faceless figure, shrowded darkness and dripping death from its clawed hands. Your IBM - Invisible Black Matter - was your very own angel of death.

“I’ll try, Cap’n,” you smiled wryly.

It soared through the blood-bathed battlefield, stinking of iron and gunpowder, singing cries with the blades of its fingers and the flap of its heavy wings. Your IBM was visible to your eyes alone, unseen by all that watched its carnage. It was an invisible terror that tore through the field like you wanted it to, clearing the path to extract Callisto to the landing zone safely.

“Fuck,” Gaz followed you closely, keeping you at arm’s length while his eyes fleeted between your small team and your IBM’s one-sided fight, “I don’t know what you did, but I’m happy you’re on our side.”

[ditzvang3l]

Ajin!Reader x Gachiakuta

Chapter 4

Warnings: k!dn@pping, colorful language, v!0lence, exp3riment4t!on, toxic relationship

You sat across from Tamsy in a dimly lit diner. The time was around eleven pm, so not many people were outside. Less people, less attention being drawn to you and this evil, beautiful creature who was looking at you like you were a part of the menu. Not really wanting to be sliced up like some goodman gordon ramsey stake–again– you minded your mouth. A little.

Before this, he let you bathe, given you looked like a walking corpse. He washed your bandages as you scraped the old blood and dirt off of your skin. You never felt more disgusting, not just from the dirt but from the absolute filth that you were in. Every time you closed your eyes you could feel your skin getting cut open again, his hands on you like a cruel reminder he was the only person who’d ever touched you so sweetly like you were fragile, yet inflicted such pain onto you. It was hard to differentiate the difference between the blade and his touch now.

When you’d open your eyes, you’d have to check that your limbs were still attached to your body, a detached look on your face everytime you remembered the feeling of your bones being exposed to the cool air. How the pain began to feel like the only thing tethering you to reality, how it began to feel good.

Almost as good as it felt when he’d brush his fingers through your hair softly, caressing your cheek with his knuckle.

It was toxic dependence, you were thriving off of the pain and the feeling of being his ace, his angel in a sea of ground dwellers. It felt good knowing he needed you as much as you felt like you needed him.

Tamsy knew this, and he exploited your indifference about the experiments, however angry you tried to act. He refused to let anyone else have you like he did.

You picked around the food given to you; steak bites with a side of bread. Quite the miserable meal it was, the blandness staining your eyes. But here on the ground, protein like this was rare so you felt bad wasting the large sum of money Tamsy had spent on it.

That’s almost laughable.

You felt his eyes on you, moreso than they have been for the past peaceful twenty minutes, which was a tell-tale sign he was about to say some dummy shit to you. Silently, you prayed to spherites he wasn’t going to speak to you.

“So, how’s the dish? Is it to your liking, my dear?”

..Goddammit.

Setting down your fork, you stared at him with a deadpan expression. “it’s sublime.”

The two-toned man curtly smiled, setting his head on his hands. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you what ever you were doing when I found you. You do know the no man land is quite dangerous.”

Taking another bite of your steak, you looked at him bluntly like he just asked you the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard. “Long story, actually not really I just don’t feel like telling you.”

Tamsy looked at you with intrigue, like he didn’t realize he was the most dangerous thing in that dump. “Do you have family, or a lover, perhaps?”

A tick mark appeared on your forehead as you resisted lodging your fork into his eyeball. “Can we just enjoy our cancerous cow flesh in peace?” You groaned, shoving another piece into your mouth and chewing, the lukewarm meat grinding against your teeth.

Moments of silence passed, which you were both grateful for and unnerved by. Then his smooth voice cut through the silence once more.

“You are a unique—”

“I am fucking fabulous.” You cut him off, sliding your empty plate to the side.

Tamsy’s monotone expression remained neutral, probably ignoring you. “You are a unique giver, your gift acting entirely on its own, and there is currently no known way you can die. Though, I haven’t tried cutting your head off..”

You paled, slamming your fist down on the table. “Fuck NO you ain’t choppin’ my head. This shit is bananas. B A N A N A S.” You spelled out, a wide grin of disbelief on your face as your situation started to dawn on you. “Who kidnaps a girl in broad daylight?! Then, you take me to your bummy ass basement and chop me up like a goddamn pig, and i’m not squeamish, but i have standards Tamsy!”

He listened to your ranting without a word, almost like he cared. Which, sort of. Not really though. But Tamsy was a man willing to compromise for his favorite subject. “Then what would you like from me, angel? I’ve agreed to limit the experimentation, and I’m not restraining you so you’re free to move around as you wish. Is there something else?”

You couldn’t answer him. That was the worst part, that you couldn’t truthfully say you wanted to leave him. Because you liked it. Not the experiments, that shit was ass. But the way he looked at you. How he watched you like you were worth studying. Like you were interesting.

He watches you the way someone watches a flame. Fascinated, possessive. Curious at how long it’d burn.

After that day, eating became a regular thing for you two. It wasn’t always going out, and it wasn’t always together, but he’d give you food at least once a day, two of he was being generous. Once he tried to make you cook, right.

You hummed a tune to yourself, watching the fire in front of you burn brighter as the dish you had been trying to make became enflamed. It wasn’t on purpose of course, but one truly couldn’t tell by the way you were staring at it like you were watching snow fall for the first time.

“How did you possibly manage to do that..?” Tamsy asked, bewildered as he watched the kitchen burn. How would tokushin help in this situation? It doesn’t.

You shrugged, walking over to the fridge and opening it. “Dunno, i think we’ll have to eat something else though, how do you feel about cereal?”

He blinked at you, his eyes flickering between the fire threatening your life and the kitchen, and at you, picking up two different boxes of cereal to decide which one sounded more appetizing before you ultimately get engulfed by flames. His eye twitched.

Finally, the smoke sensor went off the water began to spray everywhere, dampening his freshly washed hair and everything else in the room.

Tamsy was a calm man, but sometimes.. sometimes.

“Get out.”

You looked up through the cloud of smoke and your cereal boxes. “You say something, pretty boy?” You asked, not being able to hear his soft voice over the blaring fire alarm. You were obviously not even remotely in the same universe of giving a shit as he was, and clearly that pissed him off.

“I said, go sit down before I begin to test your regeneration speed after immolation.”

Gulp. You set down your cereal boxes, walking past an irritable Tamsy.

Later you told him,

“i’m full of joy and whimsy. You’re full of malice and malevolence.” You said, eating a bowl of lucky charms. Quite the nutritious meal. Tamsy found your light pouting after his scolding too cute to stay mad at you for long. It’s not like you ruining anything, and it wasn’t his kitchen.

The man almost chuckled, settling on a small smile instead. “Malice and malevolence, hm?”

Tamsy wasn’t actually all the cruel to you. He gave you things, like a bed, a place to sleep that felt safe, things to do. He found you quickly got bored when you weren’t doing something. To his credit, he often taught you techniques to practice. Fighting and such, but you were quick to master it given your previous experience. If it weren’t for his gift, you’d probably win in a fight. Not probably, would. Tamsy knew this, and he liked it. He thought your strength was admirable, and paired with your power, he could carve you into something dangerous.

But you needed work, for instance, you couldn’t sit still for one goddamn second. He gave you games, fidget toys, books, you always wanted more. He knew you wanted to leave, to get out and explore. You had pleaded with him more than once.

“Tamsyyyyy c’mon jus’ once? ‘m bored, I wanta go somewhere, your crib smells!”

He paused what he was doing, letting out a long sigh. “(Y/N), I took you to that playground a few days ago, didn’t I?”

You furrowed your brows. “I’m not a kid, and maybe if you weren’t in so much pain having that stick up your ass you’d wanna do shit too.” Smirking, you leaned over a table in defeat. “Don’t you have a job or something to go do?”

Tamsy never answered questions about his personal life, but you were stubborn. And nosey.

You spun around in a chair, reading notes about your own experiments as Tamsy went through your blood samples.

As your eyes scanned the pages, you found one that recalled the one where he had gouged out the majority of your organs from your body. Holding back a grimace, you tried to not remember the feeling to no avail.

“That shit sucked so bad, god, I’d rather have fire ants crawl up my ass. Seriously.” You muttered, your words reaching the wannabe scientists who was busy at work beside you.

“What are you reading?” Tamsy asked, settling the files of blood and black matter from your bandages down. Using the counter, you spun yourself again as you scowled down at this notebook of his.

“Just you saying I was unstable during the little organ experiment, the fuck does that mean?” You asked with a pout, leaning your arm on the back of the chair. He was out to ruin your reputation frfr.

“Your brain waves were unstable. And you were acting irrationally.” Tamsy’s blank face never ceased to amuse you, or piss you off.

You looked at him as if asking if he was fucking serious. The guy was all up on his high horse, but let’s see how he likes being sliced open, see if he acts ‘irrationally’.

“You must be fun at parties..” you huffed, sliding the notebook back to him so he could record the similarities between your dna and the black matter that sheds from your bandages.

He looked up from his notes, closing them swiftly. “I’d like to test something, so would you be a dear?”

You were lightly restrained on a metal table, the cold metal biting your skin. Grin straining as you watched the knife come down on you, mentally and physically preparing for the gentle pain. Gentle because it was Tamsy, and he was ever so precise with everything he did.

“What’s this for again?” You groaned, slouching back on the table.

“I’d like to see more of your chemical make up, and how your body reforms itself. I think it may be linked to your internal—”

“The only problem with your theory,” You began, cutting him off. Looking up at him, your eyebrows furrow. “Is that it’s FUCKING WRONG!”

He didn’t so much as blink at your complaints. Only continuing where he left off.

Watching him grab a scalpel, your mouth curving into a grin. “Cut me into an X, it’ll look so much cooler.”

Tamsy didn’t do an X, he wasn’t messy either. It always had to be clean cut, sterilized, and organized. He was silent as he worked. You, on the other hand always had something to say. Cursing, giggling, taunting. You were always making sound, up until your body would give out. Your eyes would roll to the back of your head, your limbs going limp, and your breathing stops.

1 second..2 seconds..3 seconds.

Waking up with a cold sweat, your vision slowly cleared and your eyes drifted over to him. He was cleaning a syringe, his face looking pretty and focused. Probably enjoying the peace. lol, not for long bitch.

“Fuck you and your sharp tools of discomfort.” You huffed, sitting up so your legs were dangling off the table. As he wrote, you noticed something you hadn’t before. His hair, usually down, was put up in some fancy updo, his blue pieces tied together and his blonde up, branching out from his face like antennas.

“What’s with the hair? Getting in the way of dissection, is it, doc?” Reaching up, you began swirling a piece of his hair between your fingers, the soft strand sliding through your digits.

He hummed, not making a comment about your close contact with his precious hair. “I’ve taken a new job, hence my absence as of recent.”

Brows quirked, your eyes flickered to his face that was as cool as ever. His constant state of deadpan making you question what you felt so drawn to in him. Not that you were surprised he had a job, he was grown and shit. He’d been noticeably gone, but you didn’t care to ask about it. As curious as you were to this man’s after hours activity, you just assumed it was business as usual with him.

Not that he liked to tell you much.

Soon, your time spent with Tamsy was less about doctor and patient, but a real dependence. He needed you, whether he knew it or not. Your vital instrument was one of a kind, you were one of a kind. The way you spoke to him so casually, didn’t fear him or hardly actually get angry with him. If nothing else, he found you interesting. And between all the tests, small talk, walks through the streets at night, Tamsy found himself wanting to keep you for himself. He didn’t want anyone else to hurt you, or have you, for that matter. Tamsy caines wanted you to live under his regulations. But that wasn’t the part of you that he liked. You were adventurous, outgoing, and didn’t wait around for anyone else. Which is why with him, you didn’t understand why you had stayed around for so long. He kept you in a dingy ass basement, cut you open, and pissed you off to no end. But soon, the banter became less about hatred and more centered around the fact that you liked talking to him and having your little arguments.

His presence, once arrogant and agitating, was noticeably absent in the past days. Maybe you’d come to enjoy his company, even a little. Without his voice to lull you, the stench of the room and the silence was more apparent. It crawled at your skin, a tingling sensation of action gnawing at you.

You sprawled out onto the mattress he had oh-so-generously gave you, picking at the flowers he set by your mattress four days ago. The withering state of them represented you, in a way. Not seeing sunlight for so long did numbers, for instance, you looked like shit. Your bones were more dense, and more visible.

Locked in this basement 24/7, you almost considering starting a podcast or something. You’d done nothing but stretch, strength training, practice, repeat. It felt like training to be a solider. But you didn’t want that, you wanted freedom. Not to be used in someone’s grand scheme, not even if he was pretty, had gorgeous long hair, and a sexy voice.

It had been a month. You’d adapted to the environment, to Tamsy. You only ever talked to him since you’d been here, and maybe you’d have been fine with it. But you had a life outside of here, not much of a life at all, but a life. You had a sister. One you hadn’t told your captor about, not even mentioned.

It had been a month since you’d seen her, you imagined she was worried by now. Sitting in her hospital on her visitation days, waiting for a visit that never came.

Tamsy’s notebook had dates, and if they were right—which you’re sure they are—it was almost March 5th. Your little sister’s 14th birthday. One you wouldn’t dare miss.

The door was, for obvious reasons, locked. Going through it would be too risky anyways, and knowing Tamsy’s sneaky ass, there was probably a catch. So you looked at the vent, too tall to reach, however, not too tall for a seven foot tall creature of the night to get to.

Layer by layer, your bandages unraveled themselves from your body, turning black in color as they detached from your skin. Not being in the sun for a month did numbers on your pigment, you noticed. Your once tanned, sun kissed skin had a greyish hue, but no scars to show for the hell you’d been through.

Your eyes began glowing, bright and neon, the electrifying color eliminating the mostly dark space around you. Ghost began to form in front of you, long limbs, faceless, a human replica. But obviously far from. Tamsy liked to refer to it as an IBM, Invisible Black Matter, Invisible to others unless its intentions are focused on them. You on the other hand called it Ajin. A nickname, but you felt like it suited your bandaged companion. It was impulsive, didn’t follow orders a lot, violent, but it was everything you were. Your subconscious brain, so if you wanted it to follow an order, you had to be in tune with your subconscious. It took practice, but with enough lame ass meditation techniques Tamsy taught you, Ajin became more like a friend than a looming shadow that wanted to carve the skin off your bones.

It waited for you to jump up, grabbing onto the vent before pushing you the rest of the way up. It was dark inside, and gross. A rat’s squeaking echoed through the rustic metal, scurrying away from the soft creaking that the vents made as you army crawled through it. Your bandages returning to your body again, circling your limbs like it was just another extension of your body.

The vent was small, and you barely fit as you took lefts, right, crawled up and down. Thank fuck you weren’t claustrophobic because that would suck really bad. After twenty minutes of navigation and mazing your way through the tight space like a caterpillar, you found an out. A small and dim light shining through one of the vent openings, you could already smell outside from it. Winding your fist back, you tried to get the best angle you could and punching the cover out.

It landed on the ground with a thud, and was joined by you after you swung yourself out and onto your feet. The fresh—as fresh as the ground got—air wafted into your face, smelling like new beginnings and most of all, freedom.

The vent had led out to the side of a building in an alleyway, and just inches away was the great outdoors, actual people. People besides Tamsy. After being trapped for so long, the mere concept of other people existing started to feel foreign but there they were, not many, but they were there. Normal people who didn’t go home and attend to a girl in their basement.

This was your only chance to leave the basement, the pain, the experiments. He wouldn’t let you have another chance if you got caught, you didn’t have time to hesitate. Yet you did, because Tamsy was gentle. He soothed the explosive thoughts inside your head, the constant tingling to do more. He was patient and honest, so honest it stung sometimes. But you needed to go home, the ground was a cruel place and you couldn’t hold onto the false comfort he gave you, because you were an older sister, you didn’t need anyone and certainly not him. It was honestly pathetic how you clung to the idea that he might have cared for you, even just a little bit.

So you ran, you ran fast, cutting corners and hurdling over anything in the way. You ran barefoot, your only saving grace being the bandages covering your feet from the ground below. A small tank top did nothing to conceal the white wrapping around your body, your large pants were your only barrier from the leering eyes that watched you as you sped past them.

Then, inevitably, you crashed.

You went face first into something, your momentum dropping instantly as you stumbled back, falling and landing right on your ass. Cussing, you barely looked up still reeling from the lack of movement you were doing right now.

“WOAH! That looked brutal, you good?!” A loud voice coming from above asked.

Wincing, your head spun as you tried to backtrack. “Since when do walls—” you looked up, your eyes locking with not a wall, but a dude. You almost thought it was Tamsy when you looked at his long blonde hair, but he was the opposite. Flashy red glasses, headphones around his neck, and overalls, all things Tamsy would rather die than go anywhere near. You were relieved, then realized you just bodied the fuck out of this guy.

“So sorry my face inconvenienced your chest.” You choked out sincerely, causing him to laugh loudly.

“No worries, my bro! Where’re you heading so fast anyways?! You’re like the flash!” He yelled in your face, making big movements to emphasize his words.

As you were about to respond, maybe get up, make like a tree and leave, your eyes landed on a motorcycle behind him, lighting up with an idea.

“Hey, you think you could give me a ride on that thing?”

[ditzvang3l]

Ajin!Reader x Gachiakuta

Warnings! K!dn@pping, harsh language, t0rtvre, Tamsy being evil asf, experimentation, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Chapter 3

You were going to kill this evil little twink and you swore that to everything you ever cared for.

It had been three days since you’ve been strung up in some kind of yarn, you had gathered. ‘Tokushin’ is what the man referred to it as. It was tight, rubbed in all the wrong places, wrapped around your body just enough to dangle you off the floor. If you resisted? It tightened, restricting even the smallest movement and airways.

He cut off your arm twice, the same one in different spots. It made you sweat all over, a cold, chilling sweat as the air hit your humerus bone from the inside. Your stomach was cut so deep your intestines fell out of your abdomen. The bandages that wrapped your mouth to cover your screams were replaced time and time again just from coughing up numerous amounts of blood.

The first time you died from shock, the pain overwhelming your body so much, Then it was blood loss. You were electrocuted once, wires connecting to your head to read your brain waves. Feeling your entire nervous system being fried and then having to come back from that was an experience like no other.

Each time your body came back, your nutrients were restored but he gave you things anyways. Non-necessities. He said it was efficient. You said he might just be going soft on you.

You had just had a particularly hard session, he called them.

He wanted to see your organs. Meaning he sliced you from the jugular to pelvis, pulling your heart or a lung straight from your thoracic cage and examining. So many damn tests. Needles had been punctured through you so many times, but it almost felt nice if you compared it to having your leg broke so bad that your fibula was touching the outside of your thigh. He was nice enough to drug you half the time when he wasn't trying to gauge your brain waves, so safe to say opioids were becoming part of your daily diet. But he didn't consider that a risk because apparently, when you die and come back, any physiological dependency leaves your system.

It was all logical to him. Nothing more and nothing less. Maybe he enjoyed it just a little.

You were just reset. That's what he called you dying and coming back. Your vital instrument working like it was a part of you now. Wrapping you up and solidifying, a black matter spreading throughout the bandages and fixing your broken parts. Restoring what was took.

The oversized yarn strained slightly as your muscles pulsed, your breathing shallow and sweat building under the bandages that were your false comfort throughout this entire experience.

Feeling your mouth being uncovered, you tried to speak only to become lost in a fit of coughs. Your throat was scratchy and raw, your voice trapped underneath the filth coating your airway.

Feeling a cup to your lips, you instinctively swallowed the liquid poured into your mouth from it. You add assessed that it was water after the fact. This was another thing he did that pissed you off to no end.

"Drink slowly, I don't want you choking now." His soothing voice called out, angling the cup differently so you wouldn't take in as much at a time. After you had drunk it all, he pulled the heavenly hydration from your lips, wiping your chin with his thumb.

“Perhaps I should give you a break, after all, you’ve been so good for me, angel.” He sighed in content, and in an instant, Tokushin began to release you, returning to the yarn winder. As your limbs had been freed your body dropped to the ground, your feet hitting the ground in almost an instant. You weren’t that high up after all, just barely off the hard basement floor. The lack of mobility in the past days took a toll on your body and you had begun to fall again when toned arms wrapped around your body, holding you up and close to him.

The man, your captor, held you against his body, setting your head in the crook of his neck. At first, you didn’t move. Maybe from the shock of being released, exhaustion, you really couldn’t say. He was warm, his long hair tickling your nose and his lips against your head, turned upwards into a smirk you wanted nothing more than to rip off his stupidly pretty face. A face you hadn’t seen in three days, but one you imagined looking at you everytime he made you bleed. Each time he killed you.

His hand combed through your hair, breaking the tangles and swiping it out of your face. A finger must have caught onto your wraps, because one second it was black, and the next everything seemed so bright. So painfully bright.

Wincing, your eyes carefully adjusted to the new found light, widening as you came face to face with him. He stared down at you like he had nothing but kindness in his heart, care for you. It was sickening, truly.

He smiled, the hand that hadn’t been supporting your back coming up to your face, settling a cold palm against your cheek.

"I miscalculated your tolerance threshold yesterday," he says calmly, "That was..ineffecient of me."

You blinked, your eyes widened at the nerve. "You mean when you cut my arm off?" You breathed out in disbelief. Your lips twitched up, finding this almost funny.

"It was temporary," He said bluntly, his eyes studying you. He wasn't looking at you like you were a waste, but like you were something worthy of keeping for himself. And you weren't sure how that made you feel, but you didn't back away. Not yet.

The two-toned man backed away first, letting your weakened body slip to the ground. "You did well," He said, observingly almost, "Not many subjects would be able to keep their mind."

You lifted a brow. "Are you flirting with me right now? Cause I have got to tell you, most girls prefer not to be called a 'subject'," you pointed out.

He ignores you. "I'm simply observing. You're strong-willed, capable even. But unstable, you mind is which correlates to your vital instrument.” He deduced.

"Do you enjoy this?" You asked with a forced grin that didn’t match your eyes.

"I enjoy variables that resist predictability." He says bluntly. "You're..engaging."

He's writing something down on a pad he pulls from a nearby table, littered with sharp tools. Tools with your blood coating them.

"What are you doing?" You ask cynically.

"Documenting." He replies curtly.

You dryly laugh, one 'ha'.

"Document this." You lift a hand, your middle finger springing up.

He blinks, unimpressed.

"Your vital instrument is incredible. It seems to have tethered itself so closely to your conscience that it acts almost entirely on its own," He put his notes away, peering down at you.

Your jaw was clenched as anger brewed deep inside of you, a dark and malicious feeling of pure violence. More than anything, you want to yank his pretty hair and smash his head so hard into the floor that he becomes unrecognizable just so you need have to see that stupid smirk ever again.

The thing you hated about him the most was how he never seemed to have any hatred toward you. In fact, he looked at you like you were everything to him. Like you were his sole purpose.

He always cleaned you up the best he could, made sure you were hydrated even when you didn't need it. He'd pause the experiments when you passed out, and if it was too much, he'd drug you up until you had learned to associate the pain with pleasure.

He'd brush your hair and wrap you back up every time. And he'd wash your bandages just like you liked them, with soap that smelled nice. Everything always had an intention with him. Always efficient and logical, but sometimes you doubted how necessary it really was to whisper small praises and drag his hand over your cheek all sweetly.

It was sickening. He noticed everything about you, from your temperature to what you were feeling, every twitch and involuntary movement. And the worst part about it was how warm it made you feel. He'd do it like it was all just science to him, but to you it was so much more than that.

(E/C) lit up in your eyes, the color prominent as it glowed, lighting up your face. If looks could kill, your crazed, manic eyes would have obliterated the man in front of you.

“Oh, that’s a scary look, angel.” He mused, an easy smile on his face.

Your shoulders shook as you began to choke on your own laughter, a sharp grin presenting itself as rest of you bandages had fallen from your face.

Then, you felt them unravel fully from your neck, your skin becoming bare for the first time in days. Every layer of the thick cloth had began to unwind itself at a rapid rate, your entire body becoming quickly exposed to the cool air that bit your skin.

Confused at your predicament, you looked up to your captor as if he might have the answers. A similar expression was on his face, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as your bandages, mere cotton and cloth, had come undone entirely on its own.

Your pupils dilated as your eyes glowed brighter, locking onto your treasured bandages. Just as before when you had been crushed, then again every time you had died to this man’s hand, Your bandages had begin to turn back in an instant. Instead of wrapping around you, they were wrapping around themselves, creating some kind of..ghost.

You watched with an insane grin as they had made legs, tall and lanky, a long and impossibly thin torso, arms, and a head. Before you, stood a seven foot tall ghost, a creation made of bandages and black matter. And it was yours.

A ghost. With a big, razor sharp grin in between the folds on its face and deadly claws. And it was staring right at the scared man, not with its eyes but with its stance, entirely ready to kill if you gave the order.

Oh. But you never listened to orders, so why should your Ghost?

Before you could utter a word to the monster, it had lunged forward, its claw entirely aimed at murdering the man who stood in front of you, his face torn between impressed and horrified.

You stumbled back, pushing yourself away with your legs until you hit the wall, forced to watch it tear him apart. Except it stopped, right as it came face to face with the man who had been cutting through you like a pig for slaughter, the man who always spoke to you so softly afterwards, the one who made you numb in the worst and best ways possible, the one who had brushed your hair for you when you couldn’t.

Eyes widening, you suddenly cursed yourself for this realization. It wouldn’t kill him unless you truly intended to, and you didn’t. Why couldn’t you? All it was take is one cut to the jugular and it’d be over.

“Ghost..” You muttered, your voice wobbly. A smile still cracked your face open, displaced and crazed, your teeth nearly grinding together. “Kill him, kill him so bad. DO IT!” You yelled, your nails clawing at the ground below you as you shook, too overwhelmed to stand.

Maybe fear, excitement, you couldn't distinguish your emotions anymore, not now.

"How fascinating," He murmered, looking at the tall, dark figure with pure fascination. "It seems to be disobeying your direct orders, perhaps reacting to your subconscious mind?"

Fingers digging into the ground, your eye twitches at his casualness. You hated how beautiful he was. How soft his voice was, how easily it soothed you.

"Hey," He hummed, his eyes flickering in your direction. You bit your lip once, hesitating on your next words for the first time in your life before speaking, "What's your name?"

A smile played on his lips, his cold eyes scanning you. "Tamsy Caines, my dear."

You hummed, making eye contact with him, a deadpan expression on your face. "Tamsy.." You tested out, your eyes flickering to the ground then back to him. "..I hate you."

Tamsy's eyebrows raised slightly in slight amusement, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "How charming. Fortunately, I'm finished with the tests here. I'd like to see your vital instrument in action."

"Planning a field trip?" You asked, letting your bandages dissolve and creep back onto your skin, providing you with more layers than a bra and underwear. Who knows what else this obsessed creep wanted to test, but you were damn sure he wouldn't be trying any freak shit, or he's a dead man.

“I may be. However, for now we have more pressing matters.” Tamsy held out a hand for you to take which you hesitantly did, lifting you to your feet. It felt weird to stand in your own two legs again almost, but nice. Like this was one step towards escaping Mr. Fancy pants.

“We??” You questioned, exasperated. No way in HELL were you doing anything except finding a grand ole’ bed right now.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you? I was thinking I could take us to dinner, my treat.” He smiled, his labret perched right under his lip positioned right in the middle. You should have said no, but head empty and stomach emptier you agreed absent mindedly.

And so began this very tense, very toxic acquaintanceship.