Imagines || shows and movies characters x reader

Murder toys || Elio [Elio]

It was a quiet evening in the Solis household, the kind of peaceful, unassuming night where nothing out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen. Elio, a bright young boy with an active imagination and a wild obsession with space and aliens, sat in his room, surrounded by piles of toys. His shelves were filled with everything from action figures to space-themed memorabilia, all remnants of his childhood fascinations. 

But as Elio had grown older, his interests had shifted to more sophisticated things—like the Communiverse, an interplanetary organization he often dreamed of joining. His room had become cluttered with toys he no longer played with, and his mother, Y/n, had gently suggested that he donate some of them to charity.

Elio agreed, albeit reluctantly. There was something unsettling about parting with his toys, even though he knew he'd long outgrown them. As he gathered the old action figures and stuffed aliens into a donation box, a strange thought entered his mind: *What if they had feelings?*

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. *Impossible,* he thought. Yet, the idea stuck with him, and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, a mischievous urge bubbled up within him. Before donating them, he decided he'd have a little fun with his old toys—a final adventure, so to speak.

Elio grabbed a handful of his favorite action figures, imagining them as space explorers captured by an evil alien overlord. He bound them with string, fashioned elaborate traps, and concocted scenarios where they were "tortured" for information. He pulled off limbs, dunked them in water, and even dangled them above a lit candle, watching with morbid curiosity as the plastic softened and warped.

What Elio didn't know was that these toys *did* have feelings—very real ones. They had spent years being loved and cherished by him, and now, this cruel treatment filled them with confusion and anger. They had watched as he'd slowly grown distant, abandoning them for other interests, but this? This was too much.

As Elio continued with his games, he was unaware that deep within the hearts of his toys, a sinister spark had ignited.

Later that evening, Y/n entered the room, holding a small, shiny box. "Hey, Elio," she said, smiling. "I know you're donating some of your old toys, but I thought you'd like this one. It's new, and I think you'll love it."

She handed him the box, revealing a detailed figurine of N from *Murder Drones*, one of Elio's favorite new obsessions. The figure was eerily realistic, with cold, metallic eyes and sharp features. Elio grinned, already imagining new adventures for his latest acquisition.

"Thanks, Mom," he said, eyeing the toy with excitement.

But as soon as Y/n left the room, something in Elio's mind shifted again. His fascination with the figure turned dark. The microwave in the kitchen beckoned to him like a tool of destruction. Without a second thought, Elio grabbed the toy, marched downstairs, and placed N inside the microwave. He set the timer and watched through the glass as the toy began to melt.

The plastic warped and bubbled, the figure's once sharp features contorting into something monstrous as it liquefied under the heat. Elio giggled to himself, but somewhere deep inside, a knot of unease formed in his stomach.

When the microwave dinged, signaling the end of its cruel cycle, Elio opened the door and stared at the pile of melted plastic that was once N. Satisfied with his experiment, he tossed the deformed figure in the trash and returned to his room, ready to finish packing up his old toys for donation.

But the toys—those once cherished, now tortured remnants of his childhood—had seen everything. And they were no longer willing to be discarded like forgotten relics.

As Elio slept that night, his room took on an eerie, otherworldly atmosphere. The air grew heavy, thick with the silent fury of his neglected toys. One by one, they stirred, moving with quiet purpose. The melted remains of N from *Murder Drones* still smoldered in the trash, his deformed features a grotesque reminder of the cruelty Elio had inflicted.

The toys gathered around Elio's bed, their tiny plastic eyes gleaming with a sinister light. Their plan was simple: Elio had treated them like objects, so they would do the same to him.

The room grew colder as the toys made their move, crawling onto the bed with a horrifying unity. They swarmed over Elio's sleeping form, tiny hands working together with terrifying precision. Elio stirred in his sleep, but before he could fully wake, the toys began their grisly work.

When Elio finally opened his eyes, it was too late. His body was bound, unable to move, and a sharp pain radiated through his chest. He looked down in horror to see his beloved toys—those same toys he had once adored—pulling at his flesh, their tiny hands covered in blood. They disemboweled him with the same cold detachment he had shown them during their "torture" sessions.

Elio's screams echoed through the night, but no one came. His toys, once loyal companions, now took their revenge in the most brutal way imaginable.

By morning, the transformation was complete.

Y/n knocked on Elio's door, calling for him to come down for breakfast. When there was no answer, she opened the door and stepped inside. Her heart stopped at the sight that awaited her.

On the floor, where Elio should have been, lay something twisted and grotesque—a doll, a mockery of her son. Elio's lifeless, disemboweled body had been turned into a toy, his flesh sewn together with plastic parts. His eyes, now cold and unseeing, stared back at her with the same lifelessness that the toys once had.

Y/n fell to her knees, her mind reeling in horror. She couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. Her son—her *Elio*—had been turned into a grotesque plaything. And as she wept, the toys gathered around his corpse, treating him like one of their own. They played with his body, moving it around like a puppet, laughing in their own silent, horrifying way.

Y/n screamed, but it was as if the walls of the house absorbed the sound, trapping her in this nightmare. The toys, their once-innocent faces now twisted in malice, continued their play. 

In that moment, Y/n realized the terrible truth: the toys were alive, and they had exacted their revenge.