syntheticsymp

[syntheticsymp]

I believe in you that you'd be able to finish all those work in progress fanfictions💕💕💕

Thank you darling, I needed that <333

I’m sending love back at you full force, beware

[syntheticsymp]

hellooo! new follower here, and i honestly can’t emphasize enough just how much i luv the way you write!! now for the annoying part… more konig x obsessive reader? + is 🥄 anon available?? tempted to send more asks in the futureee…

Aww thank you! And no ask is annoying, darling. Especially not this one. Feel free to request anything whenever you want! You are now officially 🥄

For this part we have some sort-of fluff but if I get one more request for obsessive reader we will go full nsfw. I have the vision

TW: stalking, obsessive behavior, short nsfw scene

Since Konig had discovered your little obsession, things have been going strangely… well.

Of course, it’s annoying when he can’t find his favorite shirt or conveniently misplaced his toothbrush, but he knows they are in a good place. He can't get mad when it's you. Besides, it'll give him another chance to go to the store to replace the items, and he knew you wouldn't be far behind.

A shopping date. Well, the closest thing to a date the two of you had. He still had no idea how to approach you and officially ask you out. But, if he was being honest, this system worked for him. There was less pressure knowing that you had seen everything, even at his lowest, and still chose to stick around.

Relationships were never his strong suit. And having you follow him, caring for him while expecting nothing in return, it made him feel loved.

So, like any normal relationship, he eventually wanted to take things to the next level.

Taking off his shirt in front of the open window, he made sure to make a show of everything. Putting a blanket down on the couch, stripping off his boxers, making sure to spread his legs just for you. As if you were in the room with him, the air stiffened. Under normal circumstances, he would have been embarrassed of himself. Kept the blinds closed at all times. But this was for you, a sure-fire way to lure you out of your hiding spot.

His mind blanked at the thought of being watched. Trying not to curl in on himself, he spread the pre leaking from his tip down his shaft. Already hissing under his breath, he leaned back against the couch. As terrifying as it was putting on this show, it only made him harder to think of you, tunneling somewhere, your eyes trained on his every movement. He hoped soon you’d be able to take his cock yourself, so he wouldn’t have to bear the moments of humiliation that came with exposure.

Imagining your cunt squeezing his cock, your pretty lips on his between the psychotic version of love you spouted about to him, he easily lost himself. He moved his hand the same pace he assumed you would go. Starting slow to feel him, before aggressively speeding as you gave in to your own mind. Perfect to him, because you knew everything.

It took an embarrassingly short time for Konig to come, the warm spurts waking him from his bliss. But this wasn’t just about the show.

The cum globs stuck to his stomach, coating the soft blanket beneath him. One of his best, a pity.

“Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath, wiping the sticky liquid off his fingers and onto the cloth.

Without a second thought, he pulled up his boxers and vanished into the bathroom. Logically, it made sense he’d have to wash his hands. Clean himself up a little. Anyone watching wouldn't question that's what he went to do.

But it was also a part of his plan. Just because he was a tank on field didn’t mean he was completely brainless.

You were growing more comfortable after the confrontation in the alley. You didn’t cover your tracks as well as you used to. You were allowing yourself to act bolder, sloppier. And you couldn’t resist the soft blanket he had laid out, the cum he had wiped on it so carelessly put there just for you. So, once again, all Konig had to do was wait.

Sit patiently in his bathroom until you slunk out of your hiding spot, which he still could not locate for the life of him, and then—

He burst out just as he heard footsteps. Grabbing you from behind, he easily picked you up off the ground, allowing you to kick out and screech in surprise. He had done this same move with countless enemies, yet this was the first time he wasn’t using it to hurt someone.

“Hush, kleine maus. It is just me.”

You stopped struggling immediately, noticeably relaxing into his grip. It nearly made Konig laugh. He had caught you once again.

“Konig!” You said his name so happily it warmed his soul. “Is something wrong?”

His grip slowly loosened, much to your disappointment.

“Nein, nein. Not at all.” He finally let you go, but not of your wrist. A small assurance you wouldn’t scamper off again. “I wanted to speak with you.”

You tensed at that. In your mind, you were already running scenarios. If he yelled at you, somehow come to his senses and demanded you leave him alone, you didn't know what you'd do. You had already grown attached; you didn't want to leave him. And you weren't about to give back the collection of items you had taken home.

You wouldn't let him leave you.

You couldn't.

Konig took a breath. He didn't want to scare you away or risk you losing interest. Not that you would, considering how you spent every free moment with your eyes on him, but the fear was present.

“You said you love me.”

You nodded. “Yes. More than anything.”

“Then, would you consider," he tilted his head to the side, choosing his words carefully, "moving in with me?”

“So… you want me to move in with you?” You repeated the words as if you could not believe them. This wasn't how people were supposed to react to being stalked, but you supposed Konig was an exception. At least, he hadn't called the police yet.

He nodded. “You are my stalker, ja? Then it would be much easier if you were to live with me. Skip the commute.”

Once again, there he was. Luring a little mouse out of her hiding spot one piece of cheese at a time. Your relationship with him was delicate, but he wanted it to advance. He wanted you to do more than simply watch. He wanted you to know that he was alright with you doing more.

There was a small indent in your cheek where you had been chewing on the inside. “I’m not giving you your stuff back,” you said defensively.

He laughed, uneven teeth on display. “I don't think I have the strength to wrestle it away from you.”

You didn't have to be told twice. You moved in that very night, forever cementing your place in Konig's life. It was just as you told him, you loved him. And now that he confirmed he was comfortable with your strange tendencies, you weren't going to bother holding back any longer.

[syntheticsymp]

Keeping an eye out for that fallout grahams fanfic 😛😛😛😛 my beautiful princess with a disorder

Yesss, I love him so much. I am forever in debt to dear anon who introduced me to our princess.

As for the fic...

I'm about 5,000 words in. I started writing it a while ago and may have forgotten about it (im sorry, it's my curse) butttt this ask reminded and now I have to finish it. I have no idea when that'll be done but I will be working on it!! Not to give too much away, but our reader is a wastelander who ends up partnering with Mr. Grahams despite how much they annoy each other

[syntheticsymp]

Synth is back! Time to feast. Content is just 🤌 I love how you go into depth of each chracters obsessions and what drives the possession in each. Especially regarding altered mental aspect of them understanding that while yes it is wroung they either choose or lack the ability to care. So I saw you taking inspo....chronic illness theme here What are your thoughts regarding a y/n that by means of genetic pop up starts to brake down functionality prior to whichever chosen character (go wild) has time to act. Assuming that they are either observing or working together. They start missing work for doctors visits, coming in late leaving early, lighter duty if not being shifted to a different role or department, longer break, but then that's not enough. They can't drive/ easily do so, they can no longer walk for a prolonged period of time, they can't even eat in or with other in mess hall for numerous reasons., this could even incorporate some sort paranoia or psychosis by stress or the emergence of something such as schizophrenia. At some point they decide to resign body no longer able to be forcibly pushed on by will and spite.

OOOOOOH ANON I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR BRAIN. I only hope I can fulfill your vision

TW: Sickness, suicide attempt, angst

It didn't take long for Ghost to notice the change.

You used to be one of the most energetic operatives on base. You came to work with a smile, seemingly unfazed by the bloodshed you'd have to endure, ready to take on the next mission despite the danger. Nobody was ever truly prepared for the battlefield, but everyone knew that you'd rather risk your life than do paperwork any day.

So, the first red flag became clear when you accepted desk duty without a single complaint. Ghost should have noticed sooner, the small twitches of your hands, the way your footsteps became less sure, until you were practically tripping over yourself any time you walked. The vacation days he thought you were taking were actually for doctors' appointments, he had learned that from an overheard conversation instead of you directly. Your absence from base hurt. But knowing something was wrong and you didn't tell him about it hurt even more.

He had always tried to keep you at an arm's length. Close enough to observe, far enough that he wouldn't risk hurting you. 'Friend' was a loose term for what he was to you, and he knew you had no obligation to tell him what was wrong, but that didn't stop him from wanting to learn. Longing glances and well-placed grunts of approval cemented you around the base as his, whether you realized it or not. Unfortunately, a relationship wasn't possible for Ghost, not when his past haunted him at every turn. He wouldn't let you know that he was worried about you, he didn't even know how to bring up that conversation.

During your tenth sick day of the month, Ghost decided to finally ask. Not you, of course. He knew if he tried everything would come out wrong and you'd probably just tell him you were fine. That's what you did last time he saw you collapse in the hallway. You were nearly as stubborn as he was, refusing to admit the pain you were in no matter how apparent. That was probably the reason he fell so hard for you.

The squad medic was a close 'friend' of Soap's, meaning the Scott spilled everything he had been told the moment Ghost asked about you. The 141 had no problem encouraging Ghost's crush, but Soap was unable to keep your illness a secret. He grimaced as he said the three little words that were practically a death sentence.

Motor Nerone Disease.

A rare illness, made even rarer by your younger age. There was only a 50% chance of inheriting it from a parent genetically, which meant your entire life was a coin flip. One that you had apparently lost.

Ghost tried not to worry about it. During missions, it was hard to think about anything else than what was in front of you. But he kept coming back to the strange thought, the little research he had done into the subject. And the more he looked, the more terrified he became. It had been a while since Ghost felt fear, he had thought he had become immune to it. Imagining your death had reignited such emotions. He was cynical to a fault, seeing your death inch closer with every second he spent away from you.

All his life, he had only seen death occur with a bang. A gunshot, a grenade, a slash to the throat. The last time he was faced with something this slow and agonizing, he had been buried four feet under in the desert. That supposed death sentence had been enough, seeing you bear a similar cross, a death drawn out into different acts as your body shuts down one part at a time, was somehow worse than the terror he felt back then.

It was a miracle you could make it to work at all these days. How was Price still allowing you to come in? You should be home, taking care of yourself. No, letting Ghost take care of you.

Normalcy was a civilian fantasy; one soldiers weren't given the luxury of having. But in the back of his mind, he had always thought that by some miracle, he would end up with you. It was a stupid crush, but it was enough to keep him going. To put it simply, you made him happy. The short conversations and small compliments, a reprieve from the silence he was used to. It wasn't fair what was going to happen to you, the months dragging on yet still seeming so short.

It was only a matter of time before he found you again. Breaking down just as he had tried not to.

In the filing room of all places. A place only desk jockeys, and apparently a worried lieutenant, had access to.

Even with his tinnitus, he could hear your muffled sobs. His footsteps became a bit more hurried as he rounded a corner to find you.

You were barely holding yourself up, leaned against the nearest wall, your legs bent at an unnatural angle and your orange bottle of meds in hand. You could barely hold the little pills, near twenty in your palm. If not for the delay in your actions, the sickness that kept you from moving, you surely would have taken them by now. And while Ghost didn't know the dosage you needed, but he wasn't naive enough to think you needed so many.

To be honest, he didn't know what to say. He hadn't seen a person deteriorate like this before, not so quickly. And you were the last person he expected to see so broken.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. Ghost rarely spoke before, but now he was at a loss for words for a different reason.

When the silence was finally broken, it was by him.

"...why?"

It took you multiple tries to speak, still fighting to keep control over your own body. "I can't keep living like this."

It was a quiet moment. Too quiet. The screaming silence, staring at the person he loved like this, it hurt him.

"So, you planned to OD?"

If you were capable of flinching, he was sure you would have. He was never the best with his words, but he wished now that he had put in more effort to phrase things more softly, despite how angry he was. How could you do this? How could you be so flippant with your life? How could you leave him, after he had finally found a selfish happiness within you?

"I can't keep doing this, Ghost," you whispered, vocal cords run ragged from crying. "It's not worth living if I'm going to be half-dead."

He didn't have anything to say to that. He didn't have anything to say at all. He wanted to storm off, leave you behind like he should have done after first seeing you, after first falling for you. He wanted to run, just as he had done his entire life.

But he couldn't keep running. Not this time. Because if he left you, he wasn't sure if there would be anything to come back to.

"I'm going to keep getting weaker until I can't breathe!" You yelled as coherently as you could. "Do you understand what that is like? I'm going to die. Not on the battlefield, not fighting some enemy, but on my back. Unable to move. Until my body just decides to give up. And I can't do anything about it!"

He wanted to wipe away your tears, but he knew that would just prompt you to lash out. He had been through this delicate dance before, but he never thought he would have to do this with you.

He crouched down to your height.

"You're being irrational, soldier," he said, falling into his role as the lieutenant. Someone braver than Simon Riley. Not a person, but a Ghost. In tantum, he fell into his own familiar role of denial. "There are ways to fix this."

"What, you think they'll develop a cure they never thought of before within the next few months? I have weeks, Simon. A year at best." There was hate in your voice, but it wasn't directed at him.

Ghost was never a hopeful man. That part of him died in the fire along with the rest of his family. But for you, he had to be.

"At this point, it's not worth going to my appointment today," you said quietly. "I don't want my last days to be spent as a vegetable. I'm a soldier. I can't just fade away."

"Suicide isn't a soldier's death." Every word he spoke was forced from gritted teeth. He wasn't good at comforting people, he never wanted to be. The best he could give rookies to get over their panic attacks was Soap. But this was different, this was you. "Give me the pills. I'll take you to the car. We are going to that doctor's appointment."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

"You said you wanted to fight, right?" His eyes stared into your broken soul. One broken creature attempting to reach out another. "Then fight."

You didn't take his hand, nor did you give him the pills. But for some reason, his strange motivation worked. By some sheer force of will, you managed to stand, supported only by the surrounding filing cabinets. Walking would be another story, but you needed this small victory.

"I'm sorry for that, lieutenant," you mumbled, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, not realizing how the title scraped Ghost's ears. He didn't want to be just a lieutenant, not with you, but that was all he could be. "I don't mean to bring my personal life into work."

The words he never said got stuck in his throat, tangling together, twisting into knots and spilling poison in his gut. He needed to tell you, if nothing else, at least how he felt. He knew it was selfish to put that on you, that you didn't need more stress on top of your disease, but he needed to say the words.

His voice was rough, his gaze trained on the ground so you wouldn't be able to see the tears beneath his lashes. "You're a part of my squad. You are my responsibility."

Once again, he was too weak. He couldn't tell you how he felt, even like this. Because, the truth was, you were never once weak to him. Even crumpled in on yourself, you were the strongest person he knew. Ghost was the weak one, unable to admit to the feelings that had been clouding his mind for so long.

Perhaps he'd finally in the next life. A life where you were given the chance to be happy, where you weren't sick, and he wasn't weighed down by trauma. Next time, the two of you could finally get things right. He prayed to a god he had long since forsaken that he was given another life, another chance, to be a man worthy of you.

And until then, he'd take care of you, whether you wanted it or not. He couldn't hurt what was already broken. If you were only going to have a few moments longer, he wanted to spend them with you. No longer running, just allowing himself a few stationary moments before grief would inevitably destroy him all over again. He simply hoped he was strong enough to stay with you without fear.

[syntheticsymp]

If I disappear again, you know where I went...

Omg don't accept any strange guy's offer to play Ddakji 💔

Dw, I'd never do such a thing. As hot as the pink guards are, I do not have the survival skills to make it past the first round T^T

They'd see me scratching out some fanfic ideas on a piece of paper and mercy kill me after they read it

[syntheticsymp]

hii ! <3 sadly, alas i do not have any inspo to spare but i rlly wanted to say ur an amazing writer and you rlly inspire me so keep it up!! <3 also can i be 🎧 or 😽 anon?

Aww thank you, darling! If you have any inspo in the future feel free to drop by any time! And I’m so honored my writing means that much to you!!

You are now dubbed 🎧 anon on my blog <33

[syntheticsymp]

YOU'RE FINALLY BACK!!

I’m not going to lie, this made me tear up a little. I love you anon and it makes me so unbelievably happy to know you missed me!!

I’m happy to be back, life got a little busy, but I’m glad I finally have time to write and daydream about the silly little guys again. I have so many good ideas that were sent to my inbox and so much inspiration that I am going to be glued to my computer. After being away I definitely have some ideas for the next big thing I am going to write…

[syntheticsymp]

When are you gonna update masterlist 🥺👉👈

I completely forgot about that, I will be doing that hopefully today but if not, it will be for sure be done by tomorrow night. I am not the most organized person, as you can probably tell. I need to set a reminder every week to sit down and do it because I lose my own ideas sometimes lol

edit: Ok! I think I finished it, lmk if I forgot anything!

[syntheticsymp]

SYNTH!! NEW SQUID GAME SEASON!!

OMG THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME I AM SO HYPED NOW I WILL BE BINGING IT IMMEDIATELY

If I disappear again, you know where I went...

[syntheticsymp]

Nikto always being in the corner at those thanos reader asks ooooo he wants dat cookie so bad 🙂‍↕️

Thanos reader, oh how I have missed her. Nikto is definitely head over heels, as much as he can be. I have risen from the dead just for her

TW: NSFW, death, corpses

While Nikto refused to believe that he felt anything other than fascination toward you, there's definitely a bond that has formed. You're like him, yet somehow, you still manage to act like a normal human being. And that ticks him off.

But as infuriating as it is, he's still the shadow lurking behind you. More of a ghost than Ghost himself. Your main might be sunny, but you still don't have your DID completely under control. And as interesting as it might be to watch you switch and raze KorTac to the ground, Nikto is unfortunately also a part of KorTac. He may be confident in his abilities, but he's also realistic.

On the battlefield, he made sure to give you the space you need so you don't mistake him for an enemy.

But, more often than not, you ended up mistaking him for something else. Your alter was impulsive, blood thirsty, and, because they were alters, had no connection to your main.

There was no trace of your usual self as he watched you cut down all the enemies in your path. Nikto hadn't had to do anything during this mission with you. All he had to do was sit back and follow you deeper into the field. He couldn't even bring himself to be mad that you were taking all the good kills when you had that feral look in your eye, no, not while the carnage you had created was causing his cock to chub in his pants. If you would have let him, he'd push you down right there and fuck you in front of the corpses you had caused, not caring if you killed him in the process. But he had a mission to complete, and he was nothing if not an operative for KorTac.

Nikto wasn't sure how long the battle (if you could even call something so one-sided that) went on for. But eventually, it slowed. And you were left, panting, alarmingly still, staring down at an armored man you had already killed.

He didn't break your trance. He couldn't bring himself to.

But eventually, you came to. Your gaze snapped to his, before assuming a fighting stance. On instinct, Nikto did the same.

He never felt the first blow land.

You were covered in blood, part of an enemy's brain stuck in your dyed-purple hair, and half out of your mind when you pulled him to you. Your lips were on his before he could process what happened, teeth tugging at his lower lip. It had been so long since Nikto felt the warmth of another person, he had forgotten how to do so.

He grunted into your mouth. A confirmation as your tongue plunged past his scarred lips and your hands already started to undo his belt. While Nikto was the furthest thing from emotional, he didn't stop you from continuing.

He didn't know how your main would react about this, but he didn't really care. Nikto wasn't a good man, he never pretended to be. The normal you probably wouldn't share the same fascination he had with you. But alters couldn't communicate, unless you were to write a note, which he doubted you would do. The heat of the battle was too much, so he didn't object as you pushed him onto his back or tugged his cock free. So little could make him hard these days, but seeing you like a fallen angel, covered in blood on top of him, was something he couldn't help falling for.

He liked the little sweet thing at work he could easily crush, yes, but he also liked the demon ontop of him, smearing blood over his uniform as you bounced on his cock mercilessly. A little bunny, filled with energy, tearing him apart in the most delicious way. It was a battle for control, even in sex, neither of you giving up until you came in tandem.

It was probably the best sex Nikto had in his life. And on the walk back to the helicopter (where a handful of soldiers were awkwardly avoiding eye contact), it warmed his dead heart to know that some, psycho version of you wanted him the same way he wanted you.

Once you finally made it back to KorTac, you went back to your sunshine-self, and Nikto went back to staring. It was as if nothing had happened to begin with. But he knew this wouldn't be the last he'd see of your alter, and until then, he'd keep haunting you like he always had been.

[syntheticsymp]

What are the odds people assumed that thanos reader was high and didn't realize it was an alter

Those odds are very, VERY high, especially considering that they had seen you popping pills before, completely unaware that they were actually mood stabilizers.

Cue a random recruit asking you to share, thinking that your pills were some top-of-the-line drug synthesized by KorTac. After the rumors of your battlefield persona spread, seeing the corpses left behind, he had come to the conclusion that those pills just had to be the shit. You weren't like the other operatives, you didn't act like a psychopath all of the time, so it had to be the drugs that gave you the extra push on the field.

Of course, his request to share just caused you to become extremely confused. Why would he want your meds? Did he genuinely need them? Was he ok? Did he have DID, too? Did you need to talk to the medic for him?

You obviously didn't share your prescription (mainly because he was being a douche, if he was polite, you might have just to see what happened), and the recruit got pissy with you, claiming that you're selfish for not sparing him some of your stash. A strange accusation you didn't quite understand. Not until he decided to tattle on you ‘being high on duty’ for revenge.

To be honest, nobody really cared if you were high or not. Konig had come in stoned to work more times than you could count. But this annoying recruit kept running his mouth, spitting lies that would normally set you off. You would have been angry if you weren't so confused.

The boss had to march his dusty ass all the way down from his office just to clear the matter up, sitting both you and the recruit down like two toddlers squabbling. And when he asked if you were high, you burst out laughing. That was what this was all about? The recruit's face turned bright red, but all you could do was attempt to catch your breath and try to take this matter somewhat seriously.

Meanwhile, Nikto was in the corner watching all this go down, debating whether or not it would be worth it to put that recruit's head through a wall. But he knew you'd be mad if he beat you to the punch. You could take care of yourself, and that poor recruit was blind to the danger he had put himself in. God save him if he ever is put on a mission with you. Nikto knew that you had no problem with a little 'collateral damage.'

[syntheticsymp]

Idk if somebody asked you this question or a question like this before but can you give us more information about Krueger and his Lucas? How is their relationship? If i remember truly you said that Krueger likes to fight, then his pet is stubborn about behaving ig

Bad. Their relationship is bad. Worse than Nikto's with his pet.

Lucas is my darling baby who spawned during my Emotional Support Assistant fic with Nikto. I originally wrote him as a mirror of our Reader, showing an alternate of what could have happened if she had been paired with Krueger instead, and driving her into Nikto's arms out of fear, despite what a terrible idea that is. And while I originally intended for Lucas to completely escape Krueger after my ao3 fic (Krueger not caring enough to go after him) and undergo so much therapy, that obviously did not happen since the story has been sort of brought back.

Soooo now I am going to yap very incoherently about my baby boy. If you have read my other stuff in this series, you know how I write Krueger, so beware

TW for abuse of many sorts, attempted murder, murder, brief body dismemberment, and brainwashing. Complete Stockholm syndrome and just sad angst

Before Krueger, Lucas was basic, if not a bit boring. Dirty brown hair, green eyes, average frame. There wasn't anything particular that Krueger liked about him when they met. Krueger was just looking for something to warm his bed and a little entertainment rather than any emotional connection. He got lonely when he wasn't fighting. And luring a little thing back to fuck and later kill kept him satisfied during those times.

He expected Lucas to die that night, just like his past dalliances. Blissed out from his orgasm, eyes rolled back in his head, distracted enough he didn't care for the bruises, and just vulnerable enough that he didn't fight against the knife Krueger pulled while still halfway inside him. The cut had been done a thousand times, killed hundreds of people. But, for some reason, Lucas just didn't die. Despite the bloody sheets and the slash in his throat that should have a death sentence, he had survived. Krueger hadn't even noticed, content to smoke next to his corpse, until he woke up in the middle of the night to find Lucas attempting to sneak off after playing dead. Like a roach, skuttling off after refusing to die.

The survival alone captured the psycho's attention. But attention was never a good thing when it came to him. Unlike Nikto, Krueger didn't have those same moments of softness, the strange devotion that came with obsession. Instead, he made Lucas's life a living hell, breaking him down to nothing in a matter of days. Begging him to fight, just so he could get off on the struggle. It's impossible to blame Lucas for crumbling so quickly, it's hard not to break when it comes to a cruelty so barbaric and constant that surviving itself is a punishment. The scars on Lucas's wrists had been covered by the ones Krueger had caused. Lucas wasn't a fighter, he never had been, so he didn't seem like the type Krueger would keep around, especially since he turned into a lifeless husk. But regardless, he was allowed to stay. Decorating Krueger's home no different than a doll in the corner of a child's room, forgotten and forced to observe, having not an ounce of control over his own life and no will to change that.

During where we are in the pet storyline now, Lucas had been completely brainwashed. He's not fighting back, physically or mentally. He's simply lifeless. He's not even a pet like our dear reader, just a doll for Krueger to play with and break over and over again. Krueger had realized that Lucas was no more fun, not responding to much of anything anymore, but he can't just dispose of him. Instead, he dragged him along everywhere like a rag doll, a pretty thing that is all his to hurt. And Lucas can't snap out of it. As infuriating as it is, he just can't wake up.

He is forced to watch Krueger with glass eyes, tend to him with porcelain hands. He makes dinner, cleans the house, takes out the corpses of Krueger's new lovers without complaint (he can't really blame him for cheating, after all he had gotten so boring). After a long day, freshly bruised as the cycle of abuse continued, Lucas found the feeling of his bread knife against flesh calming. Sawing away at bone, cleaning the blood off the rug he had ordered to tie the whole living area together, neatly packing the dismembered body parts into a trash bag to take outside, it was a reprieve. The cold night air welcomed him like the death he should have had. Yet the lights that had once offered hope, whispering for him to follow, to leave this cursed place behind, had long since gone out.

The exit is right there, but he can't take it. Not because he feels anything for Krueger, not because he's scared, but because Lucas isn't even a person anymore. He's been told those words so much he now believes them. At this point, Krueger just keeps him around because his devotion is useful. Which Lucas is very aware of.

As terrible as Reader's situation is, Lucas's is that multiplied tenfold. An inescapable tragedy that he can't avoid. And that's what I find so fascinating about this dynamic, because as much as the Reader wants Lucas to fight back, as much as they pull out their hair, screaming for him to escape, he just... can't. Of course, I considered making him a badass, but after being in this situation and undergoing this much abuse, he's incapable of doing that

I have a lil fic about Reader and Lucas meeting once again, which I may drop after I finish it. Our dear Reader sees Lucas after all this time and has a mini crisis about if she will one day become like him, braindead and numb, if she stays with Nikto

[syntheticsymp]

As y’all can see, I dyed my hair again. I hope you like my lil guy

Tags (no pressure or anything darlings) : @demothers-empty-blog @ploshzia @velv3t-te4rs

And anyone who wants to participate please do <33

Tag game: make yourself as a little guy

Tagged by: @thanatos-zagreus-shagreus

Tagging: @thiamsxbitch @rhyslahey @myinnerguineapig and whoever else is up for doing it 💙

[syntheticsymp]

Saw someone suggest a song that fit with a fic of yours for Nikto. Might I suggest Die for You and Beautiful Monster by Otherwise? Page is just 🤌

Listened and approved. I must binge their music obsessively for the rest of the day now

[syntheticsymp]

YOUR LITERALLY ONE OF THE BEST WRITING BLOGS EVER!!!! I wish you well on your writings </3 ❤️❤️

THANK YOU BABESSSSSS I APPRECIATE THE LOVE AND AM KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH. YOU ARE MY WIFE NOW

I needed that wish, I need to stop getting distracted and focus on finishing one draft at a time 😭

[syntheticsymp]

Obsessive reader is such a cute idea, like I'm just thinking of the mental image of a normal citizen trying to kidnap a whole ahh colonel 😭

Yes!! This is very much the picture. Though, I doubt he'd fit in your trunk if you tried

TW: stalking, brief nsfw, attempted kidnapping

Part One Here

-

When you first saw Konig, you were buying groceries. Running into him truly had been coincidence back then. He was deep in concentration, holding two identical boxes of mac and cheese, trying to decide which one was tastier. The facemask covering the lower part of his face kept you from seeing his full expression, but you could tell by the crease in his brow that he was struggling. He leaned from one side to the other, reading in the aisle as other shoppers swerved to avoid him.

You hadn't seen him around these parts. If you had, you would have noticed. Between his height and the way he carried himself, he was hard to miss. If you had to guess, a military man. Still in service, judging by the muscles you could see peeking out beneath his hoodie.

People were each their own little puzzle. A mystery, begging you to solve piece by piece. You couldn't help the way you were drawn to Konig, like a moth to flame. He was so random, sticking out like a sore thumb, that you were lured in. Soon, you were looking out of the corner of you eye for every row you traveled down, mentally graphing where he would end up. It was fun. A game, of sorts. And you couldn't help imagining the possibilities of what could be, what else would happen if you learned more.

No, no. You weren't going down this rabbit hole again. You were not going to start obsessing over a stupid crush on a stupid man you met by pure chance. Your mind may be running a million miles, but you could keep it leashed, if you tried.

But, on the other hand, you could follow him. Just for a little bit. Your curiosity about the strange man was endless. And curiosity wasn't necessarily obsession. You'd be fine. You just had to keep yourself in check.

Before you knew it, you were following him through the store, down the street, all the way back to his little apartment, walking exactly 23 steps behind. A respectable distance. Just enough you could see him without being seen yourself.

You had to bite back a laugh as he fumbled with his keys in his thick fingers, fingers that you couldn't help imagining inside of you, curling into your spongy pussy, hitting all the right spots. Fingers you could imagine interlocking with your own, the callouses rubbing so sweetly against your skin. You'd make sure to kiss his rough fingers, rubbing lotion on his hands, before working it lower and lower. Imagining him in your mouth had you practically drooling, along with the little kisses you would pepper against his thighs. You wanted him, you wanted to take care of him, shower him in love, offering him the same happiness he gave you while you watched. It made sense, in your mind. He would fit perfectly against you in every way. You just knew it. If only you could have the chance—

But no. You couldn't just appear out of the blue like that. Maybe you'd try again some other time. First, before you introduced yourself, you'd have to learn a little more about him.

This was supposed to be the end, you were going to return home. But then again, there was a building right beside his, abandoned and quiet, with a nice roof on the same level as his window. It was almost like fate herself was offering this opportunity to you. It was the weekend, you didn't have anywhere to be, you could stay out as late as you wanted. You'd stay, just to see what the mysterious man was like when he was comfortable in his home, opposed to in public.

To be honest, there wasn't much to watch. He ate microwave ramen, smoked a joint, tripped over his own rug, and nearly faceplanted. It was a strange entertainment, watching him go about his daily life. Neither exciting nor tragic, all you could do was watch from your spot on the roof through your binoculars (you had bought them for bird watching, but this worked, too) and observe as he fell asleep on his couch.

You stretched, recounting each tiny moment, making sure to file away the details for later. His face behind the mask, each of his little scars you couldn't quite see from afar, the way his shirt rode up when he stretched, revealing a tuft of hair trailing down his stomach. It was like he was made for you, created just so you could lay eyes upon him. You were happy you got the chance to observe, to be a passing part of his life.

Soon, one walk with him turned into two. Then three. And before you knew it, the cycle had started. Cameras placed in the dark recesses of his apartment, forgotten items of his clothing finding their rightful place in your closet. It was simple instinct for you to take what you wanted, care for the things you loved. Even if you knew deep down it was wrong, it simply felt so right to bask in his presence. A familiar face after a long day, a man just as broken as you, a man you could love as you thought he deserved to be loved.

You couldn't help wanting to know more, familiarize yourself with every part of his life.

-

Konig was his name, you had learned that from KorTac's electronic file system that was protected by the classic password, 'Password123'. If you ever introduced yourself to him, you'd make sure to tell him about the fault in the system. You didn't want his information to fall into the wrong hands.

You had also learned other things about him. His diagnoses, his past injuries, and the sidenote describing how other operatives avoided him. It hurt you to see that, but you weren't surprised. His social skills clearly weren't the best, and even on his little online games, he was struggling to hold conversations in chat.

It was such a good thing you came along, wasn't it? That you had stopped fighting against your thoughts telling you this was wrong. Konig wouldn't have to go through all the stress of getting to know you and falling in love, you had easily taken care of that all for him! He had the perfect person for him, standing 23 steps away.

Of course, you could have just gone up to him like a normal person.

But you didn't want to startle him. It was clear he had troubles acting normal in social situations. Besides, you didn't want to run the risk of rejection. Because, while he may not be perfect to the majority, he was to you. You didn't want him to slip away from you now that you had found him.

It would be easier for everyone involved if you kept your distance. That's what you decided. Konig had so many things on his plate, you didn’t want him to worry about you, too. You were just happy to be around him, whether he knew you were there or not. He was like the sun, warming your face and soul.

But you also knew you couldn't keep this up. You weren't naive. He was growing suspicious of being followed, looking over his shoulder once too often. You'd introduce yourself soon, you promised yourself that. But you wanted to wait until he came to you. It was all about making everything was perfect. He'd love you, you knew he would. The porn he watched of dominating, controlling women was enough to comfort you about that. But even that certainty wasn't enough to get you to go up to him.

The simple truth was, you didn't want to ruin the relationship you had with him. You were content to watch, clinging to your fantasies of his hand in yours. With every fiber of your being, you wished that if you confessed everything, he wouldn't run away. You didn't want to be called crazy, even if that's what you were.

Maybe you'd attempt a conversation, if you could manage to keep yourself settled. That was the plan. You could do this.

But then, he left.

No warning, no clues left behind in his apartment. Your Konig had simply disappeared.

It didn't take long for you to put together that he had been deployed. You had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth. He was off in battle without you. Clearly, he was capable of combat, but you didn't have that much faith in him. He hadn't even done anything about you! How could he go up against trained killers?

You kept trying to rationalize things, deciding to take up his apartment while he was gone, living in his space to calm down. Something about the smell of him calmed you, sitting in bed and hugging his flat pillow to your chest. He had survived this long, so, logically, you knew he wouldn't die. And when you had checked his mission status, he was put on something you assumed was very simple, under an officer that knew what he was doing. As you fell asleep in his bed, you prayed the ache of his absence would ease. You didn't want to think of a life without your obsession. He would come back to you in one piece, he had to.

If anything, you weren't mad at Konig, or even sad at the possibility of his death. You were mad at KorTac for taking him away from you. Being deprived of him for a week was bad enough. What would happen if he got deployed again? What if this time it was for months? Years? That wouldn't do. You couldn't have him leave you again.

So, when he finally came back, you snapped. It didn’t matter how illogical it was, how weak you may be in comparison to him, because your mind was made up.

You were going to kidnap Konig.

You had bought enough sleeping pills to put down a horse. And considering his height, he'd need all of them. Surely, Konig wouldn't mind. He was yours, and he needed a break from all this bloody work. It was time for you to take care of him, just as you had in the shadows for so long. So, you waited, biding your time, so close yet so far. Blinded by obsession, you didn't even consider the risks ahead of you.

Just like the first time, you had followed him home from the store. Still 23 steps behind, your pace never faltering, head bent to look at an imaginary text on your phone. You followed him without thinking, his apartment building right in front of you, once he went inside you could wait until he was distracted and sneak in behind him, slip the tablets in his drink

Then, he veered off the sidewalk. He wasn't supposed to do that. You quickened your pace, following him down the alley where he disappeared to. Where was he? Surely, he hadn't left you again.

The next thing you knew, there was a hand around your throat, throwing you against the wall. You couldn't help leaning into his touch, your plan going out the window as he spat questions at you. He was so mad, attempting to make himself seem scary like a red panda when cornered. But you knew better, you had seen the true him.

You couldn't stop yourself from finally saying the words you had been dying to confess.

“I love you, Konig.”

He didn't say it back, but that was to be expected. Your appearance into his life was sudden and strong. You almost thought he was going to kill you in that tiny alley, (you would have happily met death it was by his hands), but that never happened. Instead, he let you go, not even bothering to lecture you as he walked off.

It was an invitation. And the small bit of shame you had felt, whispering that this was wrong, was squashed.

He left his window open that night. He had done so too deliberately for it to be an accident, choosing the window by the fire escape knowing you could climb up to break in. Unsure of how to approach you, this is how he did. An open window, slowly taking off his shirt in front of it, conveniently leaving his underwear out in plain sight for you as he went to bed naked.

You took the bait. You couldn't help it. And if the smile he wore the next morning when he saw the garment missing meant anything, it told you he didn't hate you. No, if anything, he liked your attention. You knew he was perfect for you, and this reaction had just confirmed it.

Your plans to kidnap him could be held off a little while longer, you supposed. Just until he warmed up to you enough that he would come willingly. The little gestures he gave to you, that strange affection he reciprocated, were enough to prove that if you played your cards right, he might just care for you the same way you did him. Konig was no longer just an obsession. He was your true love.

[syntheticsymp]

Here's a silly idea: reader is the more obsessive one instead (any cod character pairing would do with this,but I think the most silly one to use this situation for is with konig)

obsessive reader, my love!! they're so underrated

tw: stalking, nsfw toward the end

-

Colonels were built to be intimidating. A person to follow, a voice to give commands. And Konig was good at his job, that's how he moved up in the ranks in the first place. But for as well as he did on the battlefield, his personal life fell short in comparison.

Most lower operatives avoided him at KorTac. Along with every other person he had met when he wasn't in the facility. He was large and terrifying, and since that had been repeatedly pointed out to him over the course of his sad, pathetic life, he decided to keep to himself and his little apartment whenever he was given time away from KorTac. As much as it hurt, the simple truth was, people just didn't like Konig.

So, when you seemed to pop out of nowhere, of course he took notice. He wasn't blind, and you couldn't outmaneuver a colonel. You were just a curious little mouse; he had seen your type before. You'd try to flirt, but as soon as you saw his face beneath the lower face mask he was wearing and the shit personality to match, you'd run. Height and a big dick didn't make up for the rest of what was wrong with him. Too full of nerves to ever settle, too strange to deserve love. It was a shame, since you were pretty cute. Maybe, in another life, if there were less people in the store and he felt more comfortable, he would have asked you out. Too bad that's not how his mind decided to operate.

He thought you'd leave pretty quick, disappear into the darkness of the streets like a bad hallucination. You really shouldn't be out here with a man like him. You should go back inside, never cross his path again. He let out a breath once he lost you, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. The anxiety of another person watching was never fun. But lucky, that was probably the last time he would ever interact with you.

And then he saw you again.

And again.

And again.

At first, he could brush it off as a coincidence. Tons of people had to go to the same store as him, and you probably lived close by, that's why he saw you on the streets walking home. Besides, against a man like him, you weren't really a threat. It was just his anxiety fixating on you, telling him that he had seen you once too many times, it was nothing.

But he couldn't shake the feeling. Konig knew what it was like to be followed. Many enemy operatives had tried, then met a quick death by his hands. And while you looked every part of a civilian, it was better to be safe than sorry.

So, he formed a half-baked plan. He walked down an alley. Somewhere so dark that no sensible person would have walked down without a reason. There was absolutely no excuse for you to walk behind him, down a place like this. He ventured further, keeping his hands at his sides, trying to keep himself from fidgeting. He took a breath, trying to act natural as he waited.

Ein.

Zwei.

Drei.

And there you were. Following him like a lost puppy.

It was over in a moment. He grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the brick wall.

"Who are you?" he snarled, eyebrows furrowed. If you were an enemy, some sort of spy sent by some terrorist or another, he couldn't afford kindness.

You didn't so much as flinch, staring up at him with a smile and all the confidence of a veteran. "You caught me! I didn't think you noticed. I should have known better than trying to pull one over on you." There was a blush on your face, even as he kept the pressure on your neck. "Oh, anyway, I'm your future girlfriend."

Konig nearly choked on his spit and instantly loosened his grip. You weren't a threat, just a loon. This was just plain strange. A joke, most likely set up by one of the operatives to mess with him. Another practical joke he didn't understand.

"Horangi put you up to this?" he asked, putting on a smile to mask the frustration. "Funny, funny."

He laughed. You did not.

"No, actually, I wasn't."

Welp. Konig wasn't expecting that, either. He did some quick risk assessment, trying to determine what was actually going on. It took a moment for all the pieces to click into place.

"Ah, so you are a..." he trailed off, praying that the English word he was searching for was the same as the German one. "meine... meine Stalker?"

You blushed at the word, leaning back into the loose hand around your neck. "Yeah, I guess that's the word."

"I have a stalker."

You nodded.

"And you are real? Not a joke?"

You shook your head. "No, Konig. I love you."

The admission was so blunt he didn't even notice how you had used his name without asking for it. It sounded like a grade-school confession, filled with foolish words. He had to repeat your words out loud just to process them.

"You love me?"

"Yes. I love you."

"Why?"

You blinked slowly, acting as if he had said the most stupid thing in the world. "Because. You're special."

He pulled back, trying to keep a straight face, despite the mask covering it. Presumably, you had been watching him a while. You had seen every detail of him, even with his mask off. And you had stayed despite it.

Konig knew what he should have done. He should have pushed you off, called the cops, maybe asked KorTac to dispose of you, since you no doubt had accumulated some classified information while following him.

But, on the other hand, your words were so sweet. He had never gotten a love confession before, much less from someone this committed. He had always scared away future prospects, but not you. No, you went as far as to make him a fixture of your life, expecting nothing in return.

Perhaps he was a little flattered. Or perhaps that was the isolation talking.

That night, he didn't bother disposing of you. Instead, he quietly left, neither telling you to stay nor go. He knew you were still following him after the confrontation, though he never could quite tell where you were. So, he started finally putting effort into his life, making sure to pick up his apartment on occasion and washing his face. All the while, his knee would bounce, waiting for your next return like a dog waiting for his master. He once thought you were the puppy, but it was becoming increasingly clear that was him.

In his little mind, it all made sense.

This was fantastic! You loved him! You loved him! And he'd never have to worry about his anxiety trying to convince him that you hated him, because you were far too crazy to ever leave.

He started leaving his curtains wide open, overly conscious of every movement as he made it. He knew you wouldn't care what he looked like, because you had already chosen him, but he made sure to take extra care. For his admirer that was far overdue.

He even started conveniently leaving his underwear about, just to see what would happen. Sure enough, they would disappear without a trace. He couldn't help the happy little giggle that sprung from his chapped lips, knowing the fabric was in your hands. He was luring out his little maus, just waiting until you would show yourself, because he couldn't yet bring himself to do so.

Somehow, it worked, and the two of you started dating. He liked to think he was the one who asked you out. You knew he was wrong, but didn't bother correcting him.

You moved in as soon as he had signaled that he didn't hate your more... strange tendencies.

Konig had wondered if it would be a problem, considering how other guys often complained about their girlfriends ruining their homes, the constant presence growing overwhelming. But there was no such problem with you. You fit right in, like you had always been there. Giving him exactly what he needed without a complaint. He could no longer remember his life without you.

After the long hours of giving orders, there you were, squishing his face and peppering his skin with kisses. You demanded he tell you all about his day, even if you had been there for most of it. The cameras at KorTac were surprisingly easy to hack into. Konig knew you were watching, but he liked the attention. Especially when it came from you. He had always been told he was special for a number of reasons, like his height or skill on the field, but never had he truly believed it, not even when it came from his own mother.

But with you?

He knew he was special. He was special because he was yours. And he could tell every time you looked at him, how your pupils blew wide. just how much you loved him. Sticking by his side, despite his obvious flaws.

Like a flower, Konig wilted. Unwanted attention was a collar around his neck, dragging him down. But yours was like the sun, allowing him to fully bloom.

He didn't mind if your 'love' was simply an obsession. He would take whatever you would give. All his life, he had been the one forced to step up. He was the human giant, he was expected to take care of himself, and whoever he was with. Anything less was nothing but a disgrace.

But while Konig may never admit to it, he's a pillow princess. Sure, he had the muscles to hold himself up on top of you for hours on end, but he'd much rather be looking up at you, letting you ride him at your own pace. Watching your tits bounce as you sheathed yourself on his big cock, regarding you as nothing less than an angel that had blessed his poor soul. You made him feel everything he had been missing, a light in his darkness. When he finally came, you stayed on him the entire time, not asking him to pull out despite the lack of a condom. He had a feeling you went off the pill. He didn't mind. As long as it meant you'd stay, he didn't care what you did. He reveled at your hand on his throat, your lips against his scars, making him feel truly special.

The next day, you accompanied him to KorTac, no matter how he objected. You held his hand the entire time, introducing yourself as Konig's wife (you hadn't yet talked about marriage, but he supposed he'd have to look at rings this weekend) to all the other operatives, not fearing any of the trained killers for a moment, meeting their gaze just as you had with Konig in that alley. He grumbled something in German, to which you responded in the same language. Yeah, he had forgotten you learned that for him. That meant he could no longer mumble his annoyances, specifically how he felt about you talking to other operatives, considering how he hated them. You were scary enough he offered no real objection, though. There was no arguing once you made up your mind, and you wanted to visit his place of work.

How Konig managed to pull you was a topic of conversation in the mess hall for weeks after that day. The other operatives were actually talking to him, and even if they were asking about you, he didn't care. He liked bragging about you, about how much you loved him, about how hot you were. He made sure to tell everyone that you were his, but he knew the truth. You had murmured the words into his ear practically every night, just to make sure he would never forget.

He was yours. He always had been. In mind, body, and soul, he belonged to you.