Electronic Darling || Yandere!Mobster X F!Reader

꒰ 9 ꒱

It took closer to half an hour for Gworl to finish your makeup. You did do some complaining... But, in your defense, she stabbed you in the eye with an eyeliner pencil and then nearly glued your other eye shut while putting on falsies.

"Have you done this before?" You griped.

"I don't have a lot of practice doing other people's makeup, just my own," she admitted. "Now quit crying! You'll ruin all my hard work!"

If you could, you would. You wanted this over and done with as soon as humanly possible.

When she finally set down the Beauty Blender and let you look at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't believe your eyes.

"I look like a clown." You took pride in the fact that there was no inflection to your voice, because you felt like crying for real.

"What?! No!"

A cute clown, but a clown nonetheless. Gworl had given you big Bambi eyes and gradient lips, contoured your nose into a button, and applied enough blush to your cheeks, nose, and forehead that you looked sunburned.

"Give me one of your makeup wipes," you demanded. "I'm taking this shit off."

She snatched up the packet of wipes, holding them well out of your reach. "No! This is my masterpiece, and you're keeping it on for at least one video!"

"A test video. No one is going to see it."

"Let's see how it turns out first," she reasoned. "You could use as much content as you can get your hands on right now, seeing as you're just starting out."

You could have argued that you didn't have time to make something worth putting up on your channel, but you honestly didn't know how long it took to film and edit a video yet.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Makeup isn't my only hobby, you know. My other passion... Is dance!"

If there was a merciful God, then He would have struck you dead right before you could experience all this torture.

To be fair, Gworl wasn't a bad teacher. She was just exacting. She wanted perfection and, goddamnit, she was going to get it, no matter how long it took you. After an hour of practice, you knew all the steps to FIFTY FIFTY's "Cupid."

"Can we please just get this over with?" You begged, already out of breath before she ever started recording. If it weren't for the AC on blast, you'd be really sweating right about now.

"Alright," she conceded. "But if you mess up a single move, I'm making you start all over. No magic of editing for you this time. I expect a perfect take!"

Lucky you. It only took you six takes. You were ready to kill her by the end of the exercise, though. A jury of your peers would never convict you.

The editing software was obviously made with professionals in mind, but Gworl showed you all the basics. You took notes and drew helpful little images when necessary.

"You know," you drawled. "I bet you could have taught me a lot more about tech if we hadn't wasted over half our time together on makeup and dance." You hadn't even touched the microphone yet. Hopefully you could figure out how to use it on your own.

She gave you a playful grin, flashing her perfect teeth. "Where would have been the fun in that?"

Despite everything, when it was finally time for her to go, you felt a pang in your chest. You would likely miss her just as much as Aun and Mac.

"You'll message me, right?" Gworl pressed. "You won't leave me on read like Mac?"

"I'll message you as soon as I'm done editing this video," you promised. "materialgworl, right?"

"Right! That's M-A-T-- Actually, just let me write it down for you. The gworl part is tricky for some people."

She hugged you so hard that you squeaked like a chew toy before kissing you on both rouged cheeks.

All you had left of your new friends was their usernames, a cake, a few scribbled notes, and some borrowed makeup. Hell, who knew when the next time you'd be in the same room as another person?

You'd fall into despair if you kept thinking like that. On the bright side, you had your freedom. Or, at least, a scrap of it. What was left after every bit that Giovanna's rules and requirements took away.

You could always quit, you told yourself. But then you remembered Aun's warning, how sad and scared she looked when she talked about her friend Sky. You wondered what happened to her.

Well, there was one place you could look.

You typed, "Sky," into the search bar at the top of Cloud Nine's website and hit enter. No results popped up, but there was a suggestion. "Did you mean: ivoryskies?" The algorithm asked. That seemed close enough, so you clicked on the offered channel.

ivoryskies' profile picture immediately caught your attention. It showed a pale, freckled red-head kneeling on a white bed. She was chubby as a cherub and dressed in a pink babydoll negligee, her fuzzy curls pulled up in pigtails. She wasn't smiling. If anything, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

All the content was locked behind paywalls, but you could still see titles, thumbnails, views, and upload dates. Her latest video was from six months ago. It was obviously a recording of a livestream. It had more views than any other video on her channel. The thumbnail depicted her bound in pink ribbons and blindfolded with a strip of white lace, soaked through with tears.

It was simply titled, "The Auction."

A chill ran down your spine, but your fingers typed, "Auction," into the search bar as if they had a mind of their own. You didn't want to know. But, at the same time, you had to.

Over two dozen results popped up. There were constants and variables. The usernames changed, but the titles stayed the same. The thumbnails all depicted men and women in some form of bondage, bound and blindfolded.

"What happened to you?" You asked the glowing blue-green screen. The only answer you received was the hum of the monitors.