ya got napped by the knot

viii. vulnerability

So, we've already been over how you handle your 9 companions' baggage. From this, it's a reasonable assumption that eventually someone is going to inquire about your past. 

You've kept most of your life away from your captors, primarily for fear that they'd use something as blackmail. It's not like your introverted ass has done much that's blackmail-worthy, but precautions, y'know?

All these levels of security make days like today especially difficult, when your body struggles, anxiety, and depressive tendencies become far more apparent than usual. You put on a relatively baggy shirt and pants that don't cling too tight, but upon sitting down and seeing your thighs, you promptly change into wide leg pants. 

Seeing yourself in the full body mirror makes you want to dissect every flaw you see in yourself. It's going to be one of those really difficult days. 

You stalk out of your room, through the hall, down the stairs, and make it to the kitchen successfully without encountering a single Slipknot member. Even the breakfast preparations pass sans captors. 

Then, as if that motherfucker could tell you were feeling uneasy about eating, Corey Taylor saunters into the kitchen. 

"Morning, gorgeous," he smiles. 

"Morning," you reply, regretting sitting down at the counter. 

"How'd you sleep? Or did you sleep at all?" Corey smirks at you. 

"Fine, I guess. No one got laid last night," you shrug, taking a bite of toast. 

"Shame. I could have used it."

You swallow and don't acknowledge the comment. Eating breakfast today is hard enough, you don't need Corey's existence making it worse. 

More people file in to eat, so you get out of the kitchen pretty quick to finish getting ready. You take care not to look in the mirror. You're so afraid that if you see yourself, you'll hate what you see. It's just better not to look sometimes. 

You spend hours in your room until you emerge to get some food, where you eat in the living room barely paying attention to the murder show you've turned on. Mick finds you with your legs crossed in front of you and held close to your chest while you zone out in the TV's direction. 

"Y/n? You alright there?" the guitarist approaches you. 

"Hm?" you respond after a few seconds. "Ah, yeah, it's alright."

"Yeah, I'm gonna call bullshit on that," Mick sits next to you. You release your right leg to rest on the couch, keeping the left knee clutched to your chest. 

"You don't have to talk about it now, but do you need anything?"

You don't move for a few seconds before you release your other leg and take a hold of Mick's arm and lean into him. He gives you a little kiss on your head.

"I've just been feeling self conscious as hell today. Like I'm convinced I'm fucking repulsive and mostly I don't want anyone to look at me or anything. I feel like I've not earned being taken care of because I can't be better or prettier or more enjoyable and just the thought of not meeting my own expectations for myself has crippled my self esteem," you mumble. "It's probably got something to do with being a former gifted kid who realized that their worth relied on arbitrary quantifications of their intelligence, and anything below the expectations set for me was considered unacceptable and worthy of shaming."

You end your speech with a shrug and cuddling closer to Mick, who does not hesitate to embrace you. He gently rubs your back while contemplating what to say.

"Well, I think you're pretty amazing as you are," Mick informs. "You're beautiful and sweet and frankly, you spoil us."

"How?" you say without thinking. 

Jim, who happened to overhear the last two sentences, approaches the back of the couch and leans on it. "You've washed my hair for me, and on more than one occasion let me stay the night in your room because I needed attention."

"Joey told me you sat on the floor with him and helped him through a breakdown one time," Mick adds. 

"Yeah, that did happen," you say, kind of hoping both men would leave you in peace to your self doubt.

"You've made an impact on all of us, Y/n," Jim reaches out to ruffle your hair. 

"And even though you are trapped here, we'd be pretty devastated if you left," Mick holds you closer to block you from Jim trying to hug you. 

"Goddamn, let me love them too," Jim huffs.

"Mick, stop being an asshole," you admonish.

"No."

"Okay," you nod. 

Mick refuses to let go of you as Jim leaves the room. He must have informed the others of the kind of state you're in, since every once in a while, a different Slipknot member drops in and checks on you and Mick. Each time a man comes into the living room, he pushes Mick aside to give you a little bit of attention, be it a kiss, a hair ruffle, a hug, something to eat, or a kiss on the knuckles. 

Even Corey is a sweetheart, which is like, wow.

Your captors dote on you for the rest of the day. They happily shower you with care and gentleness while listening to you if you ever want to vent to them. 

Joey especially is willing to listen to you, considering what you once did for him. 

"Are you sure you don't mind? I've talked at you for the past half hour about everything that's gone wrong in my life," you internally kick yourself for unloading all your shit onto Joey.

"Hey, it's okay," Joey places his hand around yours. "I'm honored that you're willing to talk to me about this. I know it's not easy."

You look down at Joey's hand in your lap and grip it with both of your hands. The drummer presses a kiss to your cheek before you turn and embrace him. 

"Thank you for listening to me," you mutter. 

"Of course, darling."

...

yall idk what this one even is i just wrote what i want to happen on my depression days