𝖍𝖝𝖍 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Yandere Machi x Reader [New Days]

Top!Machi

Bottom!Y/N

Author: ddarkerdreams (on ao3)

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Routines are something you can work with.

Technically, you could just laze around all day, now that you no longer have to worry about rent or looming bills. Which is what you found yourself doing when you were first brought here against your will. That is, until the lack of having something meaningful to do started to wear down on your mind. It took months of carefully timed begging, promises, and gaining her trust; but you finally managed to convince Machi to let you cook.

She only relented once you agreed to cook in a public area, where bodyguards could interfere should you get any ideas. Not that you had any intentions of doing that after all the work it took to gain this privilege in the first place. Tensions run unbearably high when another member's darling steps out of line, causing a ripple effect that intrudes on your life even if you weren't involved. It's the least you could do not to infringe on the other darling's already miserable lives by lashing out.

"Well? What do you think?" You tentatively ask, clasping your hands together and holding your breath expectantly. This would be the first dinner you've made in many months. What you used to consider a troublesome chore in your normal life felt amazing to do after being taken care of for so long. You felt like you were slowly gaining a piece of your independence back, farfetched as the thought may be.

Machi sets the fork back onto her plate. The dish you made was a simple one, you wanted to keep things easy until you got used to cooking again. Pasta with a marinara sauce you'd been taught growing up, seasoned with fresh herbs and sautéed vegetables, all items you had requested in advance for this special night. If it weren't for how dire the situation you were in was, you might have laughed at the sight of burly men in tuxedos and sunglasses approaching you with grocery bags.

"Hm. Not bad," she finally speaks up, sending waves of relief over your frazzled person. It's not so much that you want her approval — you just don't want this opportunity to somehow get stolen from you — a fear that was in the back of your mind every time you taste-tested the sauce and made adjustments. A touch irrational, yes, but how could you not grow a little paranoid considering your unorthodox lifestyle?

You sway back and forth in place, your heart practically soaring. "So you like it?"

"What'd you expect?" Machi takes another bite, her standard rough attitude not enough to dampen your high spirits. It had been nerve-wracking to cook with bodyguards who had gun holsters visible on their person hovering just a few feet away. In the end, it looks like you were worried about nothing. This has been a major success in your books.

"I'm just a bit out of practice," you freeze after the words tumble out and she raises an eyebrow. Rushing to defend yourself, you quickly add, "And you've never told me the food you like."

"You've never asked."

Ah, well, she's got a point there. When you're kidnapped, the last thing on your mind to ask is what kind of cuisine your captor favors. Machi's cool demeanor is a double-edged sword. In situations like this, where the other members would get riled up over their darling mentioning their past life, it wasn't unusual for them to blow up. She doesn't take offense over made-up transgressions and you're grateful for that much. Unfortunately, that also makes it more difficult for you to gauge her mood, given her almost constant poker face.

She finishes the meal you made in silence, something there's a lot of between you two; though you've grown accustomed to it. You reach out to take her now empty plate, but she sends you a stare. Before you can ask what's wrong, she stands, walking over to the sink to rinse it off herself. Playing with your fingers, you follow after her, feeling akin to a kicked puppy. Machi has to say something more, right? This is a big deal for you both, isn't it?

Machi turns the faucet off and sets the plate down to dry.

"Here," she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a pen and paper. "Write down what you need for tomorrow's meal."

You gratefully accept the offer, gushing out your gratitude for her benevolence.

What would your past self think of you now? Would they judge you for how you practically trip over yourself to keep Machi content and happy? Whatever the case, you can hardly bring yourself to care anymore, you're just trying to keep yourself sane.

If this is what it takes, then so be it.