Electronic Darling || Yandere!Mobster X F!Reader

꒰ 16 ꒱

You knew better than to grumble or make a fuss. Giovanna may be playing house --playing pretend-- with you, but the two of you were far from equals. She wasn't just your boss. She was-- She was-- God, you didn't want to even begin to think about it.

"No, no, no. You're doing it wrong," she growled for what felt like the millionth time that evening but was probably closer to the third or fourth time.

No matter the task she assigned you, she was always unsatisfied with your performance. First, your meatballs were too big or too small. Next, you learned that breaking the spaghetti in half --which you did just to get it to fit in the pot better-- was apparently sacreligious. Now--

"You want all the chopped veggies to be the same size. That way they cook evenly," she explained with a put-upon sigh before moving to the sink to wash her hands. She'd finished the meatballs and pasta in record time and now seemed ready to help you with the homemade sauce. "Throw away that onion. You've absolutely mutilated it. Didn't I tell you not to cut off the hairy end first? Whatever. I'll show you how it's done."

With a little huff, you swept the contents of your cutting board into the trash can. But when you moved to step aside, give her space to work, she grabbed you by the hips and held you in place.

"Ah, ah, ah... You're not getting out of chopping that easily. I'm beginning to suspect you're being bad on purpose to get out of helping," Giovanna grumbled.

Stuck between embarrassment and indignance, you repeatedly opened and closed your mouth, like a fish. You tried --keyword, tried-- to argue, "I wasn't--"

But she wasn't having any of your excuses. "Yeah, yeah... Tell it to the judge: Me." If not for that last word, you never would have guessed she was teasing you.

She used her grip on your hips to guide you, only letting go when you were right where she wanted you to be. She didn't step away after that, though. No, she remained hovering so close behind you that you could feel the warm length of her along your spine.

It was incredibly distracting. In fact, you had a hard time listening to her instructions with how loud the rush of blood was in your ears. Just when you thought you had gotten a hold of yourself, the lesson was over.

"Got it?" Giovanna asked at last. And you nodded. Like a liar. "Good. Now show me."

So, trembling, you grabbed another onion and tried to copy her technique the best you could by just looking at the end-product. Unfortunately, you didn't take into account how sharp the knife was and how badly your hands were shaking...

All it took was one small slip and, before you knew it, the chopping block was painted with your blood.

It didn't hurt... Or, at least, it didn't at first. You clutched your injured hand to your chest more out of primal instinct than anything else, started crying not out of pain but out of shock and fear. There was something about the sight of your own blood that made the body squeamish.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-- Lemme see," Giovanna hissed, craning her head to try to look at your bleeding appendage. You shook your head, just began sobbing harder. "Let me see," she tried again, with an order this time.

"Wh-- Why ar-- are you ye-- ye-- yelling a-- at meee?" You barely managed to gasp out before resuming your heavy weeping.

She didn't answer your borderline-hysterical question, just cursed quietly to herself. Then she suddenly bent down and scooped you up in her arms, the flexing of her biceps the only giveaway that you weighed anything at all. You always wanted to be swept off your feet, you thought distantly. You just didn't expect it would be in a situation like this.

Wasting no time, she carried you to the bathroom, where she perched you on the toilet seat while she rooted around in the cabinet under the sink for the first aid kit stashed inside.

Once the care package was out and open, Giovanna pried your hand away from your chest to examine it closer.

"It's worse than I thought," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Wh-- What?"

"We're going to have to amputate."

You wailed, nearly reached a pitch only audible to dogs.

"I kid, I kid!" She quickly appended, almost having to shout over all the noise you were making. "Just a little joke to lighten the mood... Obviously, you're feeling a bit sensitive right now. Just... Try to relax. It's really only an itsy-bitsy cut. You won't even need stitches."

Giovanna proceeded to kneel down in front of you and bandage your finger with all the concern and consideration of a licensed professional. It was actually pretty impressive. You'd never have guessed a mobster would have such a gentle touch.

Soon after the bleeding stopped, your mind cleared, and you were suddenly, completely mortified by your previous behavior.

"I'm sorry," you sniffled.

"Blow your nose," she said, confident enough to start giving orders again. "Don't swallow your snot. All that mucus could upset your stomach."

You frowned but tore off a couple squares of toilet paper and did as you were told. Then you grabbed a few more to start drying your eyes. Most of your makeup had been washed down your face and dripped onto your pristine white shirt. You must have looked like quite the sad clown, because she retrieved one of your makeup wipes to help.

Even after you were cleaned up, she just sat there and stared at you for the longest time.

"Uh, do I... Do I have something on my face?" You asked awkwardly.

Giovanna blinked once before rising to her feet. "No," she assured you. "Just-- Nevermind." Then she turned around. But, before she could walk away, you reached out to tug on her shirt tails.

"Thank you," you said with a watery smile. "Thank you for taking care of me."

She nodded but didn't look back at you, so you couldn't read her expression. But her body language... Where she was once so rigid, she was now totally relaxed, like she'd just gotten a full-body massage.

Huh.