#macario!reader

[theres-a-body-here]

The Entity: *whispers*

Macario!Reader, who can understand it: There's that whispering again. How are you not hearing that?

Tomie!Reader, who can understand, but just doesn't give a shit: NEWS FLASH, ASSHOLE! I'VE BEEN HEARING IT THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!

Macario!reader: THEN WHY WOULDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!

Tomie!Reader: BECAUSE I HATE YOU!

Macario!reader: Ay dios mío

[theres-a-body-here]

The Entity when Macario!reader says they're gonna find a way to escape the realm

[theres-a-body-here]

Male survivors with Macario!Reader

A death-touched woodcutter somehow finds their way into the realm of the Entity.

Jeff Johansen

Digs your aesthetic

Everything you wear is black

From your Sombrero to your poncho

Even your boots

He's one of the first survivors to help comfort you when you arrive to the realm

You were so convinced you were in hell and that you deserved it

He assured you this wasn't hell

But that doesn't mean it's far off from it

He helps explain the trials to you

Strangely, you don't really seem to get afraid or nervous

You have a calm, yet exhausted look on your face

Almost like you've accepted your fate

Like you're used to suffering

And that kinda breaks his heart a bit

Jeff's voice wavers slightly as he begins to describe the harrowing trials that await within the Entity's realm. He anticipates the usual signs – the tremor in your voice, the quiver in your breath, perhaps even tears welling up in your eyes. But as he speaks, his words fall upon a strangely tranquil demeanor that you wear, like a well-worn cloak of acceptance.

He watches as you listen intently, your gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the safety of the fire and into the dark of the surrounding forest. There's a haunting calmness in your demeanor. The corners of your lips curl ever so slightly into a sad, resigned smile as if the trials you now face are nothing more than an expected continuation of your suffering.

"Look, I know this ain't easy to take in," Jeff began cautiously, his voice a mixture of sympathy and concern. "Most folks who end up here... they react differently, you know? It's a lot to handle."

Your gaze met his. "listen, I appreciate your concern," you replied, sounding jaded. "But I've lived through my own hell back there. This... this is just another layer to it."

Jeff's brows furrowed in response, his concern deepening. "Hey, nobody should ever get used to this kind of suffering. It ain't right."

A faint, sad smile played on your lips, the weariness evident in your eyes. "Maybe I've just had my fill of suffering elsewhere. Maybe this... this feels like a twisted sort of homecoming."

Jeff's heart clenched at your words, a pang of sympathy striking him. He had seen his fair share of pain, but the resignation in your demeanor was unlike anything he'd encountered among survivors. "Nobody deserves to feel like this is where they belong," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

Jeff's hand found its way to your shoulder, his touch a reassuring anchor in the midst of the unsettling unknown. His fingers curled gently, conveying a message of solidarity and support.

"Hey," his voice was soft, carrying a subtle urgency, "I get that it might seem like hope's a distant memory, but you gotta keep holding onto it. It's what keeps us going, even in this messed up place."

Your eyes met his, a well of emotions swirling beneath the surface. His words were like a lifeline, tugging at something within you that you'd almost forgotten existed.

Steve Harrington

He's kinda put off by your gloomy vibes

Doesn't let it bother him

Tries to make you smile, even during trials

You don't get most of his jokes

But you smile to be polite

He helps teach you how to do generators

You take a while to learn but he's patient with you

He tries his damn hardest to always be near you when you're being chased by the killer

He's ready to take a hit or two

He's a bit impressed when he sees your looping skills

He realizes Feng must have taught you

You still have that eerie look of calmness on your face

He also can't help but overhear you as you speak

you're actually talking to the killer as they chase you

He strained to hear your words over the chaos, a mixture of confusion and curiosity washing over him as he tried to keep up with the pursuit.

"Are they using you like a puppet as well, Demonio?" you murmured, your voice carrying an odd blend of empathy and sorrow.

Steve's brow furrowed in bewilderment. Were you addressing the killer? As in, actually speaking to them while trying to evade their deadly grasp?

His eyes darted between you and the pursuing killer as he followed closely behind. As you gracefully danced through the jungle gym, your words seemed to ripple through the tense air. The killer's movements faltered for a split second, their attention momentarily shifted by your unexpected address.

As the tension escalated, Steve seized the moment of hesitation from the pursuing killer. With swift precision, he slammed a pallet down on their head, stunning them and creating an opening for both of you. Without missing a beat, he gracefully slid over the makeshift barrier, reaching for your hand as he did so. His grip was strong and sure as he tugged you along, guiding you toward the distant exit gate.

Your heart raced as Steve's actions seamlessly orchestrated your escape. The rush of adrenaline combined with the firm grasp of his hand sent a surge of electricity through your veins. You spared a fleeting glance back at the killer as they reel in pain, your voice carrying a whisper of pity, "Perdón"

There's a slight pause

"I hope you find what you're looking for here" Your voice carries genuine concern and condolence.

The killer's stunned expression seemed to flicker with a mix of confusion and something else—an emotion you felt before.

Steve, focused on ensuring your escape, pressed forward without looking back. His grip on your hand was steady, and his determination to get you to safety radiated from him. He didn't address the interaction you had with the killer—his priority was ensuring that both of you made it out of the trial in one piece.

Bill Overbeck

He finds you a bit annoying

He can only deal with somber people for so long

You have a nasty habit of spacing out as you do gens

resulting in blow-ups in your face

Dad mode activated

"Hey Kid, quit spacing out. We have a job to do"

He's stern with you

"Lo lamento"

Immediately teaches you his perks the moment you have free time

He can't have any slackers or deadweight in his trials

"I don't care if you mess up in other trails kid, just don't do it in mine"

That's a lie

He cares about you

In his own "Bill" way

He always gives you orders

You feel compelled to obey

Maybe it's because you've always been inclined to listen to authority figures

And Bill was one hell of an authority figure

You didn't want to earn the ire of the war veteran

Working side by side on a generator, you shared a moment of relative tranquility amidst the chaos. The rhythmic clatter of the machinery seemed to almost lull you to sleep.

Suddenly, the air was pierced by Meg's agonized screams as she was hooked by the merciless killer. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your muscles tensing involuntarily. Bill, sensing your distress, let out a low, grumbling sigh that carried an undercurrent of empathy. "Easy now, kid," he muttered, his voice steady and calming. "You'll get used to it soon. I promise"

His words were like a steadying hand on your shoulder, coaxing you back from the brink of your own fear. With a determined nod, you took a deep breath and resumed working on the gen.

A plan formed in Bill's weathered features as he turned toward you. "Stay on this generator," he instructed, his tone firm but gentle. "I'm gonna go help Meg."

You nod again, not looking away from the gears and wires as you worked on them.

Just as Bill began to move towards Meg's hook, his parting words caught you off guard. "Good kid, followin' orders." His voice was deep and gravelly.

The words hung in the air, an unexpected sentiment that caught you off guard. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, your concentration wavered. A jolt of surprise almost led to disaster as you nearly triggered a blowout.

"Mierda," you breathed, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

That old man was gonna be the death of you