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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 month

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In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steddie easter #steve x eddie

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aanoia · 1 year

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Hii! So i was wondering if you could do a fic on JJ finding out that reader sh (self h4rm) and it just ends up in fluff?

I totally understand if you don’t want to write something like that for obvious reasons, but I’ve asked other people before and they said they would do it and they never did.

thanks!

Of course! I'm so sorry it's so short, I'm super tired haha

You cut?

JJ Maybank x reader

Summary; JJ walks in on reader doing something that breaks his heart

Warnings; TW self harm, blood, cuts, broken glass

Words; 863

If you are struggling please reach out. To me, or someone you trust. Please. I will sit and listen to your problems all night. Coming from someone who has attempted suicide and who self harmed for years, in the end it does not help. I understand the feeling of never getting better, but please try. I am here for everyone.

Requests are welcome and encouraged! I have an anon submission box and you can ask in comments!

Thinking of writing something for book Finch from All The Bright Places, opinions? Suggestions?

I sighed as I turned the shard of glass around in my hand, watching it as it glinted in the light from my lamp. I lifted my shorts so my thigh was shown and gently ran my fingers over scars, some old, some new. Some weren’t even scars, they were just scabs from last week. I positioned the glass in my hands so it faced my thigh and took a deep breath before running it across my leg with pressure applied.

I didn’t feel anything at this point, the only evidence of a cut was the red line slowly growing. It wasn’t deep, just enough to draw blood. I was too much of a wuss to go deep. Too weak. I cut again, this time quicker. And again. And again. And again until it became a blur of red. A single tear fell from my eye, which dropped and the salty water stung the cuts. I wiped my cheeks before standing up and walking towards my desk where my bandages were, ignoring the feeling of blood slowly dripping down my leg.

“Surprise!” The door flew open and I gasped. “So my plan for tonight is we’ll cuddle, maybe fuck, then watch dis-” JJ froze as he saw me, leg stained in red. It was silent for a moment as we stared at each other, and I prayed the ground would swallow me whole.

“You cut?” He asked quietly, his voice breaking slightly. I closed my eyes as they filled with tears, nodding my head.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered and his arms wrapped around me quickly. Sobs shook my body as he ran his hands through my hair, trying to be strong but I could feel his own body shaking with tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered as he slowly pulled away. He wiped the tears from my cheeks and grabbed my hand before gently leading me to the bathroom.

He helped me sit on the counter before kneeling down and rummaging through drawers. He placed bandages and neosporin on the table before standing up straight and grabbing a few squares of toilet paper and folding them into a square. He quickly grabbed the small wrong in the shower and got it wet in the sink. He took the toilet paper and soaked up the blood on my leg before gently wiping the stains off with the rag. He threw the rag in the sink and grabbed the neosporin, twisted off the cap, and rubbed it over the cuts. After he was done, he grabbed the bandages and had me lift his leg so he could wrap it all the way around.

He didn’t waste a second to hug me after he was done wrapping. He held me tight in his arms as I inhaled his scent, fighting off the tears.

“I love you.” He whispered into my ear.

“I love you too, thank you.” I responded and he pulled away.

“Anytime. But, next time you want to cut, call me. Please, baby. I don’t want you to feel so desperate you need to hurt yourself. Will you find me next time?”

I nodded and he smiled before placing a soft kiss on my lips, his hand cupping my cheek. He pulled away and rested his forehead on mine.

“Ice cream?” I asked quietly and he laughed through his nose before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder, careful not to apply too much pressure to my thigh. I laughed as he sped down the stairs and to the kitchen. He placed me on the counter and opened the freezer, searching it for the ice cream.

“Where are your parents by the way?” He asked as he moved stuff around.

I swung my legs back and forth, watching him with a smile. “Business trip, they will be for the next two weeks.”

He paused and looked back at me with a suggestive look. I snorted and shook my head and he pouted before turning back.

“Aha!” He cheered, pulling out two ice cream cartons and grabbing spoons from the drawer. He held up the spoons with a smile. “Let’s go.” He said and ran to the couch. He set down the ice cream and spoons before jumping onto the couch.

I laughed and followed him to the couch. I picked my favorite ice cream and handed JJ the other before getting onto the couch and grabbing the remote.

“What should we watch?” I asked, scrolling through the different apps on my TV.

“Moana. Duh.” JJ deadpanned and I laughed as I opened up Disney+.

About halfway through the movie JJ wrapped himself around my body, clinging on like a sloth. I gently ran my fingers through his hair as he listened to my heartbeat, smiling every time my stomach shook with laughter. The last fifteen minutes of the movie played as I noticed JJ’s slow breathing. I looked down and softly smiled as I noticed his relaxed face. He was sleeping. I gently kissed his forehead and let sleep take me over as well. The slowly melting ice cream was completely forgotten, the real heartbreak of the story.

#jj maybank x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x y/n #obx imagine #obx x reader #romance #obx fic #obx netflix #obx3 #obxedit #obx s3

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neon-skeleton99 · 2 years

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Fresh Out of Luck

The normal uncomfortable feeling in your head is spreading, spreading down your spine and weaving itself in between your ribs. It keeps moving further until it’s inescapable, until it twists inside your gut.

You don’t know what he’s doing now. Something strange is happening with your magic, causing your spine to tingle. You suppose it might have something to do with the weird glitchy version of yourself he’s currently fighting, but who knows. It really doesn’t matter either way though, you remember. You try to stop thinking about it. You’ll probably never escape the thing controlling you, and why should you bother? You’ve never done much before, so why even start now.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a flash of pain. You had tuned out the fight and the odd feeling of your body dodging and attacking without any input from you, but now you are forced to notice the cut on your leg. It’s not even a bad cut, really, but, then again, it actually is pretty bad for a guy like you.

An annoying voice coming from inside your own head startles you.

“Oh jeez, man that’s.. that’s kind of wack.”

“So, Sans, any ideas man?” Surprisingly, he continues.

He was talking to you? He had gone this whole time ignoring you and now he talks, and it’s to ask something for his own benefit? God this guy was the worst.

“Aw man, do ya really think that of me?”

He can hear you. He could probably hear you this whole time, probably since the start and you didn’t know. He probably heard everything you thought.

“Oh you didn’t know, huh,” He snickers.

“That’s actually hilarious dude.”

It’s not, actually, and it sends your soul racing with the ideas of what he knows.

“Woah chillax man. I already knew most of that stuff anyway,” he explains. “So, you got any ideas or not?”

If you were honest, your only idea includes simply walking away, but you aren’t sure how to do that considering most of the area is destroyed.

Now that you look properly, you are standing on a floating rock. In space.

“Well, couldn’t we both all up and just poof away?”

You couldn’t “all up and just poof away”, because a lot of your energy was used on fighting. The little bit the creature in your head had gathered would not be enough to leave.

“Oh. That’s a bummer,” He lightly puts it.

“What about… how about…?” He trails off. Clearly you both have no plan.

Finally he seems to get it.

“Oh.”

Your body turns and you notice the other version of you that was fighting you had been talking this whole time.

“…and how dare you hide in my favorite place. I hate you so much,” he rambled on. “I will destroy you because you are a filthy glitch!”

Horrifyingly, your body skates over to him and puts a finger over his mouth. You were under the impression you both wanted to live through this encounter, but no, apparently not.

The other guy furiously wipes his mouth back and forth with his sleeve, scowling. It’s a little hard to take him seriously when the jacket fabric against his teeth is making a ridiculous squeaky noise. It honestly reminded you a lot of when Papyrus cleaned the windows in your house. Laughter emanates from your mouth without your instruction. Though to be fair if you did have control, you might have laughed too.

“That’s ENOUGH! I’m sick of you!” He yells “You’re gonna pay for that!”

The other skeleton pulls a blue string from his eye socket and swings it towards you.

It wraps around your soul, which is floating within your right eye, and slams you towards the ground, flinging you towards a larger stretch of land. A sharp pain seems to stab you in your eye like shards of glass. A hiss of pain you didn’t make escapes you.

You reach your hand toward your eye. That really hurt this time. Wait. You reach your hand. You have control.

“Wait WAIT! Let’s talk this out? One on one?”

And there’s the guy who was in charge.

You don’t care how panicked he sounds, you aren’t helping him anymore.

You reach into you pockets and feel for something. You’re going home. You pull out your house key. Papyrus bought you the dog keychain for it.

You start to walk until the way looks familiar and you arrive on your front porch.

“Bro, that’s not your house. This is an alternative version of your reality. It looks like ya house, but it ain’t. Get it?”

You don’t care. You slot the key into the door. It swings open with a satisfied click. You walk up to your room and lie down in your mattress. Someone will probably find you later, but you don’t care at the moment.

#My writing #Utmv #fresh!sans #sans #fresh sans #Underfresh #error!sans #Undertale multiverse #is there a fanfic tag ?#One shot #Ut au #true!fresh #fresh parasite #True fresh #There may be spelling mistakes a third of the way through idk I’m in school rn #I’m too excited I’m posting it now #Outertale

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carewyncromwell · 1 year

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#4 and #6 of affectionate things between Carion, please?

4) holding hands!! (Carion)

The very first time Orion ever held Carewyn's hand was after the dramatic Quidditch Cup Final between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Carewyn had initiated it to offer comfort -- it was a platonic gesture, and nothing more. And yet, at the time, it had filled Orion with strange emotions, both because he was so unused to physical affection and because he'd just seen with his own eyes that Carewyn shared his Patronus. When he returned the gesture and tried to hold her hand, she fortunately didn't pull away -- and Orion found himself holding her hand for almost fifteen whole minutes afterward.

Whatever their Patronus forms might hint, he didn't think he could say definitely that he loved Carewyn. But he did really...really like holding her hand.

It made it so that when they met up again after the War, Orion felt more comfortable with taking Carewyn's hand or shoulder, even just platonically. She'd already broached that sea with him, so it was likely she wouldn't mind it too much, Orion reasoned. Even if by that time, he already knew he'd fallen in love, he could keep things platonic between them. He wouldn't pressure her to see things as he did.

And romantic or not...he did really like holding her hand. He liked feeling like he could comfort her -- help her find balance...when it felt like all she ever did was care about others and neglect herself.

When Orion and Carewyn finally did make their feelings known to each other in December, other methods of expressing affection were broached. Carewyn held Orion's wrist for the first time. She touched his face for the first time. She kissed him...and he, his heart racing, kissed her back. And each one of those things were things Orion enjoyed just as much as holding her hand did. He liked the connection it forged between them -- the open, warm, dedicated bond that now connected them, body and soul. It prompted him to experiment more -- trailing a hand through her hair; resting his head on her shoulder; kissing her on the cheek, forehead, nose, and neck.

And yet out of all of them, the gesture Orion still enjoyed most was holding her hand. With it being romantic, he could hold it differently than before -- run his thumb along the base of hers; enlace their fingers...even hold her hand in both of his, placing kisses to the back of it. Anything to bring that soft, relieved smile back to her face when tension had creased her brow.

Orion wanted to give Carewyn peace. More than anything in the world, he wanted this person who seemed to always have to play the hero, ready to fight for others, to be able to lay down her armor, take that breath she seemed to always be holding, and just be. To be happy -- be content...be herself, at his side, smiling and free. For nothing more was truly needed, in Orion's eyes.

And a simple handhold could communicate all of that, and more.

"You've been holding my hand for a long while now."

"You've been holding a heavy weight for far longer. ...I realize you must shoulder the burden of duty when you are at work...but please, do not strain yourself, trying to play Atlas. The whole world is not yours alone to fix...and you needn't carry the weight of it by yourself."

"...Orion..."

"Yes, my Abraxan?"

"...Thank you."

(6 under the cut!)

6) when they're so patient and understanding with you (Carion)

referencing Roxanni Kim @mira-shard 💙

Orion had always been a free spirit. It was one of the things that had made it difficult for him to make friends as a young child, and even at school, it made it so that the vast majority of the student population just didn't get him. Once he'd become Slytherin Quidditch Captain, people just kind of saw the mystery of him as part of why he was so cool, and that attitude persisted once he was an adult and become the toned Star Chaser of the Montrose Magpies...but that still didn't mean he wasn't a bit eccentric, nor that it was always easy to figure out what he was saying.

One of the few people who became very fluent in "Orionisms," however, was Carewyn. She was probably the one who clued into his way of thinking the fastest of anyone else he'd ever met, in part thanks to her Legilimency potential, but also due to her intense empathy and their oddly similar thought processes, despite the differences in their personalities.

Perhaps it was for this reason that whenever Orion would get too stuck in his own head when trying to express himself, Carewyn would almost always be the one to translate.

"Orion thinks if you like Roxy that much, you should tell her how you feel," Carewyn told her ward patiently.

Erik didn't just roll his eyes: he practically threw them up toward the ceiling, with how impatient and flabbergasted his face looked as he whirled on Orion.

"For fuck's sake -- " he muttered irritably, slapping his hand over his forehead and eyes, before he blared out, " -- how in the bloody hell does that relate to an ashwinder?!"

"My metaphor may or may not have gotten away from me," Orion said serenely. "But it seems to have eluded you completely. Thank you, my Abraxan -- you are a most wonderful compass, on this sea of self-discovery."

Carewyn leaned in to brush his uneven hair out of his face so she could kiss his jawline. "Glad I could help, Captain."

Affectionate Prompts!

#hphm #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #my writing #roxanni kim #erik apollo #gdamnit I love them so :')#hogwarts mystery

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themagiccaspian · 6 months

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A short story featuring my Cyberpunk D&D characters I made a little bit back.

Cw for implications of heavy topics such as addiction

Calvin Autumn Backer In: Glassboy

Glassboy was a kind soul, but he got some cracks over the years. The cracks didn’t heal fast enough for him.

“Glassboy! Glassboy!” A friend said, frolicking up to him.

“Yes?”

“I found something that can heal your cracks.” He hands him a substance. Glass seal. He points to where he’s applied it on himself.

“See? My cracks are all patched up now. Try it out!”

Glassboy tried it out. He’d seen many do this before. And it worked. He played all night with his glass held together. The next day, the seal fell off. And it took a bit of glass with it, unbeknownst to glass boy.

“Glassboy? Glassboy?” A different friend came up to him, one with flowers in her glass.

“Yes?” Glassboy replied.

“Don’t you see what the seal has done so you? You’re losing more glass.” She points out his lost glass. Glassboy didn’t realize.

“My glass wasn’t healing nearly fast enough, Catalpa. My friends don’t like it when the cracks show.”

“But you’re only losing more glass as you go, Calvin. Don’t you see? You’re losing yourself.”

Glassboy contemplated this. But he didn’t stop.

“Glassboy? Glassboy?” His flowery friend called to him.

“Yes?”

“You need to stop this Calvin.” Her voice was garbled. “Your glass is pouring everywhere, and I’m stepping in it. Glassboy, I’m scared.”

This made Glassboy stop. He didn’t want to spread his cracks to others.

But it wasn’t easy. He found other ways to hide his cracks. Other things to get addicted to. But Catalpa protested again.

“They love me, Catalpa. They love me.”

“No they don’t, Calvin. They love you like an object. People who love you wouldn’t steal everything you are.”

Glassboys form was shattering. They were taking every shard of his glass. He wasn’t sure if he could stand on his own two legs anymore. The cracks had spread.

“You have to let the cracks heal, Calvin. Take a break. Come with me. I’ll hold your glass together.”

He agreed. He tried his hardest so that the glass wouldn’t cut her hands as she held it together.

“Glassboy, why don’t you hang out with us anymore? Take the seal, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.” Glassboy had replied.

•••

Catalpa started replacing her glass form with metal.

“It’s just like the glass seal, Catalpa. It won’t make you feel more whole.”

“I’m done with being glass. I want to be something else. And it is. It’s making me feel more whole than ever.” Her metal maw opened. “I won’t break anymore. And I’ll shatter- I’ll shatter whoever tries to take your glass I’d- I’d kill them. I’ll kill them all.”

“Catalpa, your metal is leaving marks on my glass. You’re scaring me. It’s a cycle- Catalpa remember what you said- please- Cat- Catalpa???”

A shattering noise rang out.

#literature #small writer #fantasy writer #writers on tumblr #short story #cyberpunk #ocs #dnd ocs #oc story

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dam-peace · 1 year

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Ya Boi Got Anotha One This One Is By Far A Little Freaky. How Would The Team React If They Had The Same Dream. Let Me Elaborate They Wake Up In Some Sort Of Apocalyptic Scenario They See People,Buildings,Etc Being Pulled Up In To A Giant Black Hole And They See The Detective But They Have Beautiful Red Butterfly Wings. A Crown Made Of Some Sort Of Mirror Shards Covering Only There Eyes.

And Faint Binding Marks On There Arms,Legs And Neck. And They Say

I Finally Decided To Break Free And End It All. And Then They Wake Up And Check The Detective And See Them Asleep On There Desk. And A Butterfly Flies From There Hand And Out The Window Probably Freaking Them Out. Like They End Worrying More About Them Especially If They Revealed To Them Their History With Lars.

#ViceAndVirtue #VV

Tobias

"Hey!" Tobias yells out, slamming his hand down hard, right next to the Detective's head.

*BAM!*

"Huh?!" Jolting them out of their sleep, the Detective jumps up in a fright. Frantically looking around the room for any danger. Their eyes narrowing in displeasure, as Tobias slowly comes into view. The Detective quickly starts to piece things together.

"What the f*ck was that for?!"

"You suicidal or something?" Tobias askes with narrowed eyes, completely ignoring the Detective's initial question.

"W-what?" The Detective splutters out in confusion. "Why on Earth would you think I'm suicidal?"

Tobias turns away, letting out a tired breath of exasperation. "Whatever, doesn't matter, you don't seem to be anyway. Which is great, because I really don't have time for that sh*t. But if you ever start thinking about kicking the bucket, go talk to Nick. He specializes in all that human psychology sh*t."

Tobias answers back with a tired sigh, running a hand through his dark brown locks. "He's actually a certified Therapist, so you can actually talk to him. There's plenty of f*cking help out there, so don't even think about trying to 'break free.' Cause I'll f*cking know, and if you think for one second that I won't tell Lars. And throw your ass in a mental health institution, you're wrong, so tread the f*ck lightly."

Nicholas

Nicholas quietly makes his way over to the Detective, peering down at them. Still consumed in what he hopes is a peaceful slumber. His eyes filled with an emotion too raw and entirely too deep, for words to ever try to express. Reaching a hand out, he gently strokes the Detective's hair. A sad whisper of solidarity escapes him....

"I know the feeling."

About an hour later, the Detective slowly rises from their slumber. Pulling their arms up above their head, yawning the sleep away. As the room slowly starts to come into focus.

"Hm?" The Detective hums out in surprise, taking notice of Team 1's leader sat comfortably in the seat across from them. Staring at the Detective with a blank expression. "Nick? Were you here the whole time?"

He nods, "Yes, I didn't want to wake you. So, I finished the rest of the work on my own." He answers back with a flourish of his hand, highlighting the three files stacked neatly to the side of the Detective's desk. "I hope you don't mind."

The Detective balks, "Of course not! If anything I'm sorry you had to do it all on your own. All because I decided to sleep the day away, like a little princess."

Nick only chuckles, "I don't mind, I'd much rather you rest when needed. Than to overwork yourself needlessly."

"Yeah, but-"

"Detective." Nick cuts them off sternly, causing the Detective to straighten at Nick's unusually strict tone.

I wonder what's gotten into him...?

Nick uncrosses his legs, then crosses them again the other way. Whilst his hands rest comfortablely in his lap. Watching the Detective in silence, causing them to squirm uncomfortablely.

"We are a team, Detective." Nick starts suddenly, peering deep into the Detective's eyes. "You're no longer alone, and as a team. We support eachother, be it work related or not. Through whatever may come or, whatever has already come to pass...." He pauses, leaning closer towards the Detective. "And, if you weren't already aware of that, I hope I've made myself entirely clear now."

Elias

Elias would just sit there silently in the seat across from the Detective's desk, waiting for them to wake up. About an hour later, the Detective slowly rises from their slumber. Pulling their arms up above their head, yawning the sleep away. As the room slowly starts to come into focus.

"Hm?" The Detective hums out in surprise, taking notice of the quiet giant of Team 1. Sat comfortably in the seat across from them. Staring at the Detective with his usual bored expression. "Elias? Were you here the whole time?"

Elias only nods, peering intently into the Detective's eyes. Causing the Detective to freeze, involuntarily caught up in his golden gaze once more.

How does he keep doing that?

"You okay?" Elias askes with a nod of his head in the Detective's direction.

Causing the Detective to blink in confusion, shaking themselves out of their thoughts. "Huh? me? Yeah I'm fine....why?"

Elias doesn't answer, instead he stares at the Detective for a moment longer. Then, with a shake of his head, rises from his seat, "No reason." He answers back nonchalantly, making his way towards the door.

He doesn't bring this up again, though Elias would use his powers to keep an eye on the Detective for awhile just to be sure. And, if anything does happen, he'll tell Nick immediately.

Kacey

"NO!" Kacey would scream aloud, practically jumping on top of the Detective to suffocate them in an almost bone crushing hug.

"W-what the-?!" The Detective jolts awake at the sudden motion, confused beyond belief. "Kacey?! What are you doing?!"

"You can't go anywhere! We love you! We all love you! I love you! You're awesome! You're incredible! And you're a hundred percent needed! You can't go anywhere! You just can't! you hear me?!" Kacey cries out in desperation, gripping the Detective's shoulders for dear life. Almost on the brink of tears, at the prospect of losing yet another dear friend.....

Kacey would be so distraught that the Detective would have to calm her down. And after that day, Kacey would keep a close eye on the Detective, spending more time with them. And becoming friendlier than usual, all in an effort to show the Detective how much they truly matter. Even going as far, as to try and bring the Detective and Lars a little closer. Though that plan went out the window pretty quickly.....

#VV-if #VV: RO Ask

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neon-draws-sometimes · 1 year

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Fresh Out of Luck

An annoying voice coming from inside your own head startles you.

“Oh jeez, man that’s.. that’s kind of wack.”

”So, Sans, any ideas man?” Surprisingly, he continues.

He was talking to you? He had gone this whole time ignoring you and now he talks, and it’s to ask something for his own benefit? God this guy was the worst.

“Aw man, do ya really think that of me?”

He can hear you. He could probably hear you this whole time, probably since the start and you didn’t know. He probably heard everything you thought.

“Oh you didn’t know, huh,” He snickers.

“That’s actually hilarious dude.”

It’s not, actually, and it sends your soul racing with the ideas of what he knows.

“Woah chillax man. I already knew most of that stuff anyway,” he explains. “So, you got any ideas or not?”

If you were honest, your only idea includes simply walking away, but you aren’t sure how to do that considering most of the area is destroyed.

Now that you look properly, you are standing on a floating rock. In space.

“Well, couldn’t we both all up and just poof away?”

You couldn’t “all up and just poof away”, because a lot of your energy was used on fighting. The little bit the creature in your head had gathered would not be enough to leave.

“Oh. That’s a bummer,” He lightly puts it.

“What about… how about…?” He trails off. Clearly you both have no plan.

Finally he seems to get it.

“Oh.”

Your body turns and you notice the other version of you that was fighting you had been talking this whole time.

“…and how dare you hide in my favorite place. I hate you so much,” he rambled on. “I will destroy you because you are a filthy glitch!”

Horrifyingly, your body skates over to him and puts a finger over his mouth. You were under the impression you both wanted to live through this encounter, but no, apparently not.

“That’s ENOUGH! I’m sick of you!” He yells “You’re gonna pay for that!”

The other skeleton pulls a blue string from his eye socket and swings it towards you.

You reach your hand toward your eye. That really hurt this time. Wait. You reach your hand. You have control.

“Wait WAIT! Let’s talk this out? One on one?”

And there’s the guy who was in charge.

You don’t care how panicked he sounds, you aren’t helping him anymore.

You reach into you pockets and feel for something. You’re going home. You pull out your house key. Papyrus bought you the dog keychain for it.

You start to walk until the way looks familiar and you arrive on your front porch.

“Bro, that’s not your house. This is an alternative version of your reality. It looks like ya house, but it ain’t. Get it?”

#I don’t think this is on here. Hi #Utmv #fresh!sans #fresh parasite #underfresh #true!fresh #true fresh #fresh sans #classic sans #error sans #error!sans #errortale #i keep forgetting hed in this lol #My writing #Possession #Losing hope

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unwritrecipes · 1 year

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Chocolate Chip and Almond Biscotti

The holiday hit parade continues and today it’s a family classic that I cannot believe I have not yet shared with you—these wonderfully satisfying Chocolate Chip and Almond Biscotti. They deliver in every way you want them to!!

These biscotti used to be something I made kind of regularly and then, I don’t know why, something newer and shinier caught my eye and I just sort of…stopped. But recently I had them at my sister’s house and I was reminded of how much we all love them and I want you to be able to love them too!

Would that these were my own creation, but no, they are the brainchild of the late and great Maida Heatter who has always been such a baking inspiration to us all. She’s got some very particular techniques which I’ve always followed, but I have altered the recipe a bit over the years. I’ve swapped out the semisweet morsels for shards of bittersweet chocolate, cut the whiskey and used water instead and now use raw slivered almonds instead of whole blanched ones since they are so darn hard to find!

Once you mix up the dough and shape it into 4 logs, you place them on foil-lined rimmed baking sheets that have been turned upside down.

Then once those logs finish their first bake, you let them rest for a bit, carefully slice into wedges and return to the oven where they finish drying out, even spending a cooling stint in there too.

The cookies are truly perfection—crunchy without being impossible to bite into and loaded with chunks of chocolate and toasted almonds. I think that once you try them, they’ll quickly become a must-have holiday favorite.

They’d be a terrific addition to any cookie platter or to gift on their own in a cute tin or to keep for yourself and dunk into a steaming cup of coffee or tea on a chilly day.

Whatever you decide, you can’t go wrong!!

Chocolate Chip and Almond Biscotti

Makes at least 3 dozen

You will need a food processor for these.

Prep Time: 20 minutes; Bake Time: 1 bake for about 25 minutes, then a 20 minute rest and then the second bake for about 25 minutes

Ingredients

6 ounces blanched raw slivered almonds

2 cups sifted unbleached, all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup minus 2 tablespoons sugar

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped roughly

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons water

The Recipe

1. Preheat the oven to 350º F and place the nuts on a rimmed baking sheet. Toast for about 10-12 minutes, checking halfway through and giving the pan a little shake, until the nuts are lightly colored and smell a little roasted. Set aside to cool. Turn the oven up to 375ºF and divide the racks into thirds. Turn two large rimmed cookie sheets upside down and line with a piece of aluminum foil, shiny side up. Set aside.

2. Into a large bowl, sift together the sifted flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add the sugar and stir to mix.

3. Measure about ½ cup of the dry ingredients and a ½ cup of the toasted almonds into a food processor and process for about 30 seconds or so until the nuts are fine and powdery.

4. Add the processed mixture to the bowl along with the rest of the almonds and the chopped chocolate. Stir to mix.

5. In a separate small bowl, lightly beat the eggs with the vanilla and water and add to the dry ingredients. Use a large rubber spatula until everything is incorporated. Be patient. It will seem like there is not enough liquid and if you have absolutely have to add a bit more water, like a teaspoonful to help it all come together.

6. Place a piece of parchment or wax paper on the counter and turn the dough out onto it. Wet your hands and only very slightly shake them off. Then use them to form the dough into a round mound. Using a bench scraper or sharp knife, cut the dough into 4 even pieces.

7. Wet your hands again and form each piece of dough into 9-inch long, 2-2 ½-inch wide strip, trying to keep the ends rounded, rather than pointy. Place 2 strips crosswise on each of the prepared baking sheets so that they have room to spread.

8. Bake both sheets at the same time for 20- 25 minutes, reversing the sheets from top to bottom and front to back halfway through the process (at my old house I did these for the full 25 minutes, but here my oven runs hot so I only do for 20 minutes or they tend to get a little too dark on the bottom).

9. Transfer the foil with the logs off of the baking sheets onto wire racks and let cool for 20 minutes. Turn the oven down to 275ºF. Turn the baking sheets right side up.

10. Place one log at a time on a cutting board and use a serrated knife to carefully cut ½ slices at an angle. Place the slices on the unlined sheets, cut side down and place each sheet into the oven, baking for another 25-30 minutes, turning the slices upside down and reversing the sheets front to back and top to bottom like before at the half way mark.

11. Leaving the trays in the oven, open the oven door, turn off the oven and let the biscotti cool completely in the oven. Store them in an airtight container. These are reputed to last 2 weeks but I’ve never made it that far!

Enjoy!

Note: Recipe adapted from Maida Heatter’s Brand-New Book of Great Cookies. I used blanched slivered almonds instead of the whole blanched almonds because it’s hard to find then and they are generally very pricey, but if you have those instead, go for it because I like the biscotti even better with those. Also I subbed in cut up bittersweet chocolate for the semisweet morsels and used water instead of the whiskey or brandy. Plus, I kind of simplify some of the baking techniques—she is a wonderful baker but very persnickety when it comes to the process.

#Almonds #Flour #Baking Powder #Baking Soda #Salt #Sugar #Bittersweet Chocolate #Eggs #Vanilla Extract #Water

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somdotrovao · 2 years

Text

Eyes

"I know I can't slow down I can't hold back Though you know I wish I could Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked Until we close our eyes for good" - Cage the Elephant The night was cold and dark. The Winter had been rough until then. Probably the roughest in generations. It was almost impossible to find food and there wasn’t enough fur for everyone. Some elders had already died and the Caern was struggling to keep cubs warm and well-fed. The Caern’s Theurges had tried everything to calm the Winter Spirit, but had no success. They could not understand why the spirits were punishing them so hard. It was almost as if the land had been cursed. Desperation was taking over.

The Garou had been out in the mountains for a couple days. Food was scarce and there were no animals to be seen anywhere. She knew she couldn’t take much longer in the wilderness. The temperature was too low and her body had been functioning with less food than usual for a couple weeks now. The blizzard was merciless. The wind felt like sharp ice shards cutting through her skin. Even in Crinos form. She would've had to either give up and go back to the Caern or die a useless death in the snow. Dying a useless death wasn’t in her plans, but neither was giving up. So she did the only thing she could do: She kept going.

“I’m going to find you, Awan. I promise!” , she thought to herself.

Awan was her little brother. She had been taking care of him since their parents had passed away. He had disappeared two nights before. No one knew whether he had been taken or had left on his own. The blizzard was too strong and everyone assumed he had no way of surviving no matter what. But she was as stubborn as one can be. She insisted that no one accompanied her, so she left unnoticed. It wasn’t that hard when you can barely see a meter ahead and the wind is so strong that no sense of smell can help you. She knew it was a suicidal quest, but nonetheless she was willing to do it.

Tarlo was known for her tenacity. As a Philodox, she had been taught her whole life how to be like that. As her mentor used to say: “You cannot expect people to take you seriously as a Judge if you do not appear to be serious yourself. It’s not about fear, it’s about knowing how carefully you take your duty.”. And to that day, she lived to his guidance. She had a strong feeling of duty and could not be persuaded to go against that. Rarely did you see her laugh.

Now, with her feet deep in the snow, her body getting weaker and barely able to see anything, she knew she had to find cover. It wasn’t that hard in those mountains at least. There were lots of caves and small entrances in between the rocks. After looking for a while, she finally found a crack on a big rock, big enough for a wolf, definitely not for a Crinos. Upon entering the small crack, at first she felt relieved by the fact the ground was actually dry. A long-missed sensation. Then, she immediately focused on sharpening her senses to try and notice if she wasn’t alone. Nothing. Not a single sound or smell. Almost to the point it was weird. The place was completely dark, but luckily she had brought her Light of the Guidance Spirit, a fetish that consisted of a wooden stick that when activated burned with warm yellowish light. It wasn’t fire. It was just a spiritual light that also provided some heat. When the cave finally got it up, Tarlo could not believe her eyes. The place was so big, the light wasn’t strong enough for her to see any walls besides the one with the crack she had used to get in.

“Absolutely astounding that such a small crack could be hiding this enormous place”, she whispered, unable to contain her surprise. “I’d better explore a bit first, then have something to eat and luckily get some rest before departing again.”.

And so she did. Branding her light source she started walking deeper into the darkness of the cave. She’d walked for a few minutes before she realized that place was a lot bigger than she initially thought. Her belly ached and her legs were starting to fail. Her body was starving. Finally, Tarlo decided to stop. She was carrying a small bag with her supplies, which only had a single piece of dry meat and an old loaf of bread left. she calmly sat on the ground, and ate the last of her supply. After a few moments of reflection while admiring the beautiful shapes the light produced, she slowly fell asleep.

– Hello…

She woke up in a scare with the sound of a deep, distant voice. “Who the fuck said that?”, she thought, still not sure if she had heard or dreamt it.

– I said that.

– And who the fuck are you?

– Who I am? I am no one. I just am.

– What do you want with me? Do you have a name?

– I do not want anything with you. You’re the one who entered my domain unannounced.

– And for that I’m sorry, for I did not know there was anybody else here. I was out in the blizzard and needed a place to rest my body. This was the first one I found.

– You should be more careful. I would not risk entering another's domain. That can be dangerous.

– Am I in danger here?

– That I cannot answer.

– You also haven’t answered my other question: What are you called?

– That is the fifth question you have asked me so far. I do not think it is fair for you to get so many answers while I get nothing. You will have to answer my question first, then I’ll answer yours.

– And what’s your question?

– Why are you here?

– I’ve just told you that. I was looking for shelter from the blizzard and found this place.

– No. You are clearly not a very intelligent specimen. I am not asking the circumstances of how you entered my domain. I am asking why you entered my domain.

– I was looking for my little brother who disappeared. He’s a little boy called Awan. Have you seen him?

– There you come with another question.

– Sorry. Is there anything else you want me to answer?

– Yet another question. Interesting.

– Okay, I’ll stop asking questions. If you want me to leave, just say the word and I’ll find another place.

– I never said I wanted you to leave. Nor to stay. I merely wished to understand why you were here, Tarlo.

– I don’t remember telling you my name…

– I know a lot of things. Talking about names, I do not have one.

– What are you, then? I think I deserve another question since you haven’t answered that one.

– Of course I answered your question. You asked me my name and I told you I have no name. That is my answer. The fact you are not satisfied by it does not make it invalid. I never deceive nor lie. I only tell the truth. Your inability to comprehend my words does not invalidate them as lies.

– So, am I allowed to stay?

– Since you are unable to stop with the questions, I will answer only the ones I want to and assume you are capable of accepting this.

– Deal.

– My turn to ask questions. Why do you not come closer? Do you not wish to meet me?

– Am I welcome to go? Are you inviting me?

– I have not invited you. I merely asked why you did not come. Do you want to come?

– Not sure if I do.

– Interesting. Do as you please, but remember, in my domain I am the order. Nothing can defy me here. Beware.

Then, silence. As if it were never there, the voice stopped. Tarlo was perplex. Not really sure of what had just happened. She decided to leave. She had slept for a brief moment and that had to suffice if she had any intention of rescuing Awan. As she approached the crack on the wall, she could see light outside. “It’s morning, already. I must’ve slept longer than I thought”. She stopped before the crack, felt the cold wind on her face and for some reason she would never understand, she felt compelled to go back to the voice. She felt a kind of curiosity she had never felt before. She just needed to understand what that was.

She walked deeper into the cave. In there, her senses got mixed up. She walked for a long time and in the endless darkness it was impossible to know if she had been walking for a few hours or days. But the deeper she went, the more compelled she felt. She walked and walked and walked.

– You came.

– I still don’t know why.

– You do have a hard time figuring out why you do things, Tarlo. Always been like that.

– What do you mean “always”? How could you possibly know that?

– If you are sure of what you are about to do, look up and you will finally see me.

As Tarlo looked up, her face could not hide the fear anymore. Her Light of the Guiding Spirit suddenly went off and all she could see was a pair of purple eyes. They looked old and wise, but more than anything else, they looked hungry. The eyes looked at her nonstop. Never blinking, never diverting. The stare was discomforting. It made her wanna run like an afraid cub. But at the same time, it attracted her. She couldn’t stop looking at it. Almost hypnotizing.

– So, we finally meet, Tarlo.

– Why did you want me to come here?

– I never said I wanted you to come.

– Were you expecting to meet me today?

– Today? Days have no meaning for me. Your perception of time is different from mine. Your pitiful attempts to keep track of the flow of the cosmos are completely irrelevant to me.

– Are you going to kill me?

– Death and life are just two sides of the same thing. Everything that exists, is transformed at some point, Tarlo. A rock will not always be a rock. A forest will at some point cease to be a forest. And you will eventually become something else, as well.

– What about you? Are you dead or alive?

– Neither. And both.

– You are answering more questions now.

– You are asking more relevant ones.

– What exactly is this place?

– My domain.

– What was it before being your domain?

– Nothing. It has always been my domain.

– Does anyone ever leave this place?

The eyes disappeared and less than a fraction of a second later reappeared, this time facing Tarlo frontally and a lot closer. Silence. Then more eyes started appearing. Some closer, others further.

– Are there others like you?

– How could there be another like me when every being is completely unique? The same way there is not another like you, Tarlo, there is not another like me.

– Then are those other eyes yours?

– I can give you what you want. But in exchange you have to give me something too.

– And what is it you think I want?

– You want the human Awan.

– Do you know where he is? Is he alive?

– I want you, Tarlo.

– What do you mean?

– I have been here for too long. I want to see the world.

– And how am I supposed to help with that? Are you even gonna help me with Awan?

– I want your eyes. And in exchange, you will be my champion.

– What if I don't want to be your champion?

– Then do not be.

– What does it mean to be your champion?

– It means you are going to take me to see the world. I haven't been out of my domain in a long time. Much longer than you could ever comprehend. I want to see the light again. Not this frail light you carry with you. I want to see the sun, the moon and the stars. But for that to happen, I need your eyes.

– And what will happen to them?

– I will have them.

– So I will be blind?

– Blind to the light, yes.

– And then you'll give me my brother?

– I cannot give you the boy. I can only lead you to him. As my champion, it is my duty to lead you.

– So you want my eyes and in exchange you'll lead me? Forever?

– Forever… I do not believe you are capable of understanding that word properly.

– How long, then?

– Until I no longer am. Are you prepared for that?

– Do you have any other champions?

– Are you prepared?

Tarlo breathed deeply and pondered. "How can I possibly commit to this? I don't even know what this voice is…"

– I understand your doubt. Let me put your mind at ease. You as a Garou are a servant of Gaia. I am no enemy of Gaia, myself. Her interests do not bother me and I promise you I will not get in the way when you are trying to do her bidding, as long as you're also committed to being my champion.

Tarlo could not comprehend why, but she firmly stared at the purple dozens of eyes that surrounded her and exclaimed with a resolute tone:

– I do accept your offer.

The same second the last word left her mouth, her body was completely engulfed in what felt like tentacles made of shadows or darkness materialized. The tentacles made their way towards her eyes and painfully removed them from their cavities. Tarlo fell unconscious.

When she woke up, everything was dark. Her eyes were gone, but for some reason, it felt like she could see a lot better now. She wasn't able to actually see, but somehow she could walk normally and knew exactly where obstacles were. She was outside and knew where every pebble was on the snow. All her other senses were just a lot sharper than they used to be.

She could travel through the mountains with a lot more ease. Her movements were swift, her sense of direction, perfect. In no time she finally caught Awan's scent. After following the trail, she eventually got to her brother. He was near a small cabin well hidden in the forest by the mountain's foot. But Awan was not who she knew anymore.

He smelled like death and Wyrm. As she approached him, a creature that seemed like a human but definitely wasn't, attacked her ferociously. It was strong and fast. Its fangs were sharp and the creature always aimed for her throat or wrists. It seemed like it was trying to feed on her. She dodged and changed to her Crinos form.

She was a lot mightier than the creature and although blind, she could fight now better than ever before. As her claws slashed through its flesh, Awan shouted in desperation:

– No, please, don't do that to my master, Tarlo.

She couldn't believe her ears. How come her little brother was calling this Wyrm stenchy thing a master? What had happened?

The creature was no match for her and after a couple slashes, it was no longer able to move. Pieces of its dismantled body covered the snow with blood. Then it became ashes and vanished with the wind like it had never been there.

Awan fell to his knees crying desperately.

– Brother, I'm so glad you're safe. I thought I'd lost you.

– What have you done? You monster! You monster! You killed master. He fed me with his own blood. We were going to live happily forever. You ruined everything. I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!

In his moment of anger, Awan let his fangs out and they were just like the dead creature's. Tarlo knew it was too late. She then swiftly moved towards the undead child, and with a single swing of her arm, separated the boy's head from his body.

"I'd rather never find you than find you like this, Awan…", she thought.

– Why would you do this to me? Why tell me you'd guide me to my brother just to lead me to this? ANSWER ME!

– Why would I do what? I kept my part of the bargain. I led you to the child. If the transformation he had been through was not satisfactory to you, I cannot be held responsible. As I said, I never lie, nor deceive.

– Now what? You keep my eyes and abandon me to my suffering?

– Abandon my champion? Why would I do that? You are still of much use to me and I am sure I will be of use to you, too. We have a bond now and it cannot be undone. You are my champion and I am your totem. And I intend to continue using your eyes as well as I intend to continue to lead you.

– Totem? That means you're a spirit, then?

– That is how your kind tends to call mine.

– You said you do not have a name, but now that I think of it, I know what my people call you. Darkness, isn't it?

– Yes, I have been called that before. It is not my name though.

– I see… From now on I want to be known as Tarlo, Champion of Darkness, Philodox of the Wendigo.

– Very well, then, Tarlo Champion of Darkness who also happens to be my Champion. We have a lot of places to go together…

0 notes

cynettic · 3 years

Note

Hello, can I request a reaction with childe, albedo, xiao and diluc where their SO is pretty clumsy and one day, they (the characters) just snap and say mean things? Please end it with comfort or something nice, my heart isnt strong enough to handle full angst :')

Clumsy S/O x Genshin

Summary - As someone clumsy, the genshin boys often pay special attention to your little accidents and mishaps. One day they snap, comforting ending though ;-;

Pairings - ClumsyReader x Childe / Albedo / Xiao / Diluc

Warnings - A bit of possessive behaviour for Xiao- but otherwise, a tad bit of angst at the beginning of each one.

A/N - After I wrote Albedo’s hc I realized that seeing him angry… would be really hot. Might write up a degradation one after-

Childe

“Stop it! It’s not funny anymore!”

It wasn’t surprising that once again, you’d managed to trip on your own feet and now somehow the vase sitting on the stool next to the couch had fallen… and broke.

But it was the first time you’d heard those words come from him.

“What do you mean… stop?”

Childe had never said anything about your clumsy antics, always picking you up and laughing or teasing the situation off. On the occasion that you got hurt, he’d tend to your wounds and make you promise to be more careful. Of course there was always a next time, and next time, and text time…

Until Childe had enough.

“From falling- tripping over your feet and taking down everything with you! No one tumbles around this much… so either you’re just doing this for fun or- or…”

He began to realize after those words that he’d taken it too far. When glancing at your teary eyes and how your figure started to shake he knew he couldn’t take those words back.

He knew it wasn’t your fault, he knew you tried to be as careful as you could.

But it was so frustrating.

You were still laying on the ground from the fall, and he bent down to help you up. You didn’t look him in the eyes, and an empty feeling buried itself in his stomach when you stood up.

“I’m… sorry.”

It was you who spoke these words, shoulders still shaking. You knew it might’ve been frustrating or annoying for Childe.

The two of you are just standing there, Childe feeling ten times guiltier because you apologized, and you feeling terrible because you’d broken another vase and he’d yelled at you for it.

The two of you feel so bad about it- ;-;

It isn’t till Childe acts out and pulls you into a hug that you realize he felt bad for yelling at you. Sure he may have been frustrated, but it was only cause he was worried about your well being, he didnt want you getting hurt.

“Im sorry Y/n… I didn’t mean to act out like that. I know you're trying your best.”

Albedo

“What happened.”

It was supposed to come out as a question, his eyes trailing over the mess of his lab and the sorry pitiful state it was in.

It didn’t come out sounding like a question.

Seeing Albedo angry of all things was only a myth among the knights of Favonius, a joke to Klee, and a topic never brought up to the citizens of Monstadt.

Albedo? Mad?? Impossible.

Well, you were living proof that it indeed wasnt a myth to see the alchemist angry.

“I fell…” was all you said in response to his glare. “I wasn’t paying attention and I tripped against the table… I’m sorry…”

Of course you were sorry, just waiting for Albedo to get home and maybe scanning the lab and all his experiments while he was away. No bad intentions, but unfortunately your bad habit of tripping over your own feet summoned itself at the worst moments.

Usually, Albedo would catch you with utmost ease. A reflex he’d learned from Klee before she went sprinting out to cause more of a ruckus. If you were to get hurt, he’d usher or carry you back into his house before patching you up. It was always quick and painless, but he made you repeat why you’d fell and how to avoid it.

Albedo wouldn’t be comforting you now.

“You fell?” He simply asked, his tone menacing enough to know that it was something important in that jumble of experiments. “You seem to do that a lot nowadays don’t you?”

You’re at a loss for words, “I’ll help you clean it up… I didn’t mean to-”

Not wanting to mention how the glass shards had cut your hand, you stood up with wobbly knees to start picking up the pieces of glass. You were sure your boyfriend had put a lot of work towards this, and you felt terrible for having ruined it all.

Albedo isn’t a savage tho.

He notices the cut on your palm, and your shaky figure as you begin to clean up the mess you’d made. He knows that cleaning up the lab as soon as possible is important, but you’re still his top priority.

“Come here.”

When you don’t immediately go to him, he walks to you. Taking your wrists and getting a good view of the injury. He tugs you to the doorway to get you fixed up, and realizes that you’re shaking, a little bit too much…

“It… seems I was a bit too harsh earlier.” He fully faces you, expression softening. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean to, none of the items on the table were of any importance if it makes you feel better.”

Please let him wipe any stray tears if you do cry, he didn’t mean to sound so angry, and really doesn’t care too much about what was on that table. Poor man’s just had a tough day at work.

Xiao

“I worry for you, every single minute of every goddamn day- every moment that my eyes aren't on you! Why don’t you make it easier for me and just sit still?!”

Xiao is protective.

That fact is known, its accepted, you might even find it endearing.

But Xiao has lived a much longer life than you, he’s seen the people he loves crumple and drain away. Watched them fade from his life one at a time, so he’s dedicated to making sure you stick around.

He knows that eternity isn’t an option for you, so he makes sure that the time you both have together is s a f e . Which means yes, he will catch you every single time you fall. Especially if it’s off the Wangshu stairs that you somehow always trip on?

The poor boy worries excessively for you, so much that he will try to hurry up the process of clearing out the normal hilichurls or threats that lie around Liyue Port.

But on the very rare occasion that you somehow end up into trouble without him there…

You don’t yell “Xiao” like he told you to, you know he makes such an effort on making you safe, a bit too much… you don’t want to summon him to every trouble you have. You’re independent, one scrape isn’t going to kill you.

“I’m fine,” you simply say when he comes back to find your whole hand encompassed in bandages. “Just tripped.”

Xiao is not impressed.

He worries too much, far too much, and seeing you brush it off when he tries so hard to make sure you’re never in pain- he wishes you’d just sit still, wait for him and not trip on your own feet when doing such mundane things.

“I worry for you, every single minute of every goddamn day- every moment that my eyes aren't on you! Why don’t you make it easier for me and just sit still?!”

You’re obviously taken aback by the statement, “Xiao?” You offer him a comforting hug, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. “It’s impossible from protecting me from everything y’know… I appreciate your worry but I’m fine.”

But that’s a matter that is strained between the two of you, and will continue to be that way until either Xiao somehow lets go of his protective anxious faze, or you just accept it.

Either way, the boy will continue to catch you when you fall. Even if you broke apart from him, left him, you’d still occasionally feel the lightest touch when you trip over your feet and feel yourself steadied.

Diluc

“Are you doing this on purpose?!”

Just like Xiao, Diluc is fairly protective over you, especially if it concerns your health.

He’s often not quick enough to catch you, but instead picks you up in his arms and sits you on the table to make sure you’re not hurt.

You often get bruises, but nothing more serious. He makes sure to kiss them better- something you jokingly stated once, and he’s actually taken it seriously.

“Kissing it will make it feel better? You’re sure?”

Overall, Diluc was very understanding to your clumsy antics. Maybe even find it endearing on a hard day of work, either way, he’d never yell at you for it.

Until he had enough.

It’s exhausting, to hear something clatter and know that you’d probably tripped. Tripped and harmed yourself in one way or another, the options were infinite, and Diluc’s anxiety could heighten at the slightest crashing noise.

“Are you doing this on purpose?!”

Eventually it became too much and he asked you that exact question, hands tangling through his hair as he stared at you wide eyed, furious. There you were on the floor, just a single chair knocked down as you were beginning to shakily stand back up.

“No… of course not. I wouldn’t do these things for fun-“

It’s not like you enjoyed absentmindedly stumbling into objects, it just… happened. Diluc was usually so patient and understanding… so why?

“I know… it’s just...” he rubbed the temples on either side of his face with his thumbs, frown set in a line. “I keep worrying and worrying- every time I hear a noise like that…”

It doesn’t take long for him to sort this out through a conversation, and then settle that you need to be more mindful and careful, something you have to improve on. He will simply watch on the sidelines, catch you when he can, and coax you when you end up hurt.

#genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #cynshealthysfw

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reidjumpers · 3 years

Note

would you ever write something along the line of the minimal loss episode reimagined. so instead of emily being in the ep it’s the reader and spence has the biggest crush on her. it kills him knowing that she’s getting hit and bruised. yeah i don’t know if you would do it but i love that idea.

GUESS WHAT I really love this idea too so I tried to rewrite Minimal Loss reimagined. Please emphasize on tried.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer could feel his blood run cold at the question Benjamin Cyrus fired at him and you. He subtly glanced towards your direction, pressing his lips and tried his best to maintain his composure. He watched you shift on your seat a little bit, eyeing the gun on Cyrus’s hand intensely.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in faux confusion.

“God will forgive me for what I must do,” Cyrus said calmly. Too calmly. Spencer gulped as he heard the clicking sound of his gun. He caught the sight of you gaping and eyes widened in horror as a gun aimed against his head.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“One of you does. Who is it?”

“Me,” your voice was firm, slicing through the thick tension. Spencer slowly turned his head towards you with a wide eye. You glared at him with an eye that screamed don’t you dare at him, determination and fear swirled together in your eyes made him shiver. He could feel dread and helplessness slowly sinking in. “It was me.”

Cyrus lowered his gun that aimed at Spencer, slowly turned his direction towards you. Spencer shot you a glare and silently demanded you for explanation at your stupid sacrifice. You had just deflated your own fear and bargained for your safety in order to save him. There was a bitter taste curled and overwhelmed him at the tip of his tongue upon knowing he couldn’t do anything to diffuse the situation.

Spencer let his shoulder sink a little bit as Cyrus silently holstered his gun into his pants, allowing himself a brief relief upon knowing that he didn’t have to watch your demise today. It took everything inside him not to jump and inserted himself in between you and Cyrus as he yanked you to the ground by hair and a sound of your pained whimper filled the room. He couldn’t even bring himself to flinch when a rifle aimed towards him as his eyes fixated on the sight of you being dragged across the room.

“I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus snarked, releasing his hold on you and slammed you to the concrete floor. Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and could feel the tip of his fingertips go frozen as dread and fear pumped rapidly into his system.

The sound of you being slapped filled the room made him flinch a little bit. He glanced briefly towards the rifle against him, giving him a brief break from the horrifying sight before him. Spencer could feel anger and disappointment filled him with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything besides watching you being beaten mercilessly by Cyrus. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him who took all the beating instead of you. You were everything good left in the world and you are a living reminder that there are lights and hope in life despite all the horror and worst face of humanity he was constantly being contaminated with.

What would he do if you were gone then? The brief horrifying thought flashed before his eyes as he watched Cyrus slammed your defenseless body into the ground again. He could feel hot tears prickling in his eyes at the thought of living his life in void and helplessness if you ceased to exist before his eyes. Spencer collapsed his balled fist into his lap as the realization that he couldn’t live without you washed through him.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as your body was slammed against the wall and hit the mirror, refusing to picture the sharp shard of glass cutting your skin.

“Proverb 23rd tells us that bloods and wounds cleanse out evil,” Cyrus recited as he yanked you by the collar again and slammed you against the wall. Spencer could feel anger and disdain boiled inside him as he watched your body helplessly fall into the floor after the impact of your collision with the wall.

“I can take it,” you said with a firm voice. Spencer caught your eyes briefly as your eyes flickered in between him and Cyrus that stood in between you and him.

His heart fell into the bottom of his stomach like a heavy sandbag. He knew what you meant from your firm stares alone. You only said that to reassure him and signal the team outside not to come in a rush. It was a minimal loss situation, Spencer had concluded. He drew a sharp breath as he mentally prepared himself for a situation where he couldn’t possibly save everyone and had to accept however many people he could save while others perished.

Spencer glanced up to meet your eyes again before Cyrus moved to block his sight. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of your eyes screaming I’m fine, I’m okay at him with blood flowing freely from your broken nose. Dread settled painfully in his bones that the possibility of the team having to choose between your life or his was too close than he liked.

He blinked his eyes to shoo away the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t risk blowing up another cover that guaranteed his life when you had sacrificed yours for him.

Cyrus beat and slapped you for another round with disdain painted clearly on his face. “Pride comes before the fall,” he said as he punched your stomach and slammed you to the floor, thinking you were antagonizing him as you repeatedly said you could take it. Spencer let out a relieved sigh as Cyrus took a step back from you and left you shaking with pain on the ground, instructed Cristopher to tie you up and took you upstairs.

Not today, he reassured himself. Forcing himself to be satisfied and grateful for your spared life. Not today.

***

Spencer had just successfully coaxed Cyrus into testing the negotiator for the FBI and proving them that they were not a liar and ensuring your safety. Disgust and anger brewing at the pit of his stomach every time Cyrus glanced his eyes towards him. He somewhat marveled at the plain trust Cyrus gave him effortlessly. The memory of him beating you hadn’t left his mind, still painted fresh and clear as if it still happened before his eyes. He had to mentally restrain himself from glaring in disgust at the thought of Cyrus molesting a child and beating you up until bloody and bruised.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus addressed his man that had been trying to shot down Spencer’s suggestion regarding the situation. Only then Spencer turned his attention fully at him who had been pacing around in agitation repeatedly.

“Some of them had been talking about leaving,” he sighed.

“Leaving?” Cyrus pressed his lips together as Christopher affirmed his question. Spencer balled his fist and hid it inside the pocket of his pants as he waited in antagonizing anticipation with whatever next step Cyrus would take. “Wake the baby. Let’s get them meet the orphan that they made.”

Spencer nodded mutely at Cyrus’s decision. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding this whole time, letting himself loose a little bit and allowed himself to feel relief washed through him. Cyrus had taken the big bait and he had ensured your safety with his lies and negotiation skill. It was the least thing he could do after what you did for him.

He knew he would be damned if he couldn’t get you out of his god forsaken place alive. For now he just has to give and surrender with whatever fate is waiting for him into the hands of the team waiting outside. He took one longing glance outside from the window, wishing that he would be staring into the starless sky with you right now.

***

Spencer watched from the back silently as the members of the cult filled the empty chair inside the chapel one by one. What was once an empty and quiet chapel now buzzing with life and the air was stale and raked with fear. The negotiation test went as smoothly as Spencer could wished for. He heard Rossi rattling out your identity to Cyrus in exchange for your safety from a speaker phone as they released the orphan into the team outside.

You emerged from the opposite end of the chapel, a swarm of children and women pushed through from behind you. Spencer stared and watched the way the sunlight that slips through the chapel window fell into your skin. The glowing sunlight from behind your back casted a halo behind your figure. He noticed that your blood had been cleaned up and there were a few specks of dried blood on the collar of your shirt. Some newly formed bruises littered your face, angry and red and was a painful sight to behold. He hated it.

Cyrus was listing out names from the list he had written the day before as Spencer slowly made his way towards you. Everyone’s attention was focused on their leader calling out the names on the altar, but Spencer’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes were watching Cyrus solemnly as you leaned yourself into the wall to support your weight.

Spencer lifted his hand to touch your face and stopped midair before he realized a tad bit too late. His finger twitched painfully with a burning desire to feel you underneath his fingertips, but he couldn’t risk another round of beating and blowing up plans that had been rolling quite smoothly so far.

Guilt surged inside him like the sea, disdain and bitterness brewing and threatening to explode from the bottom of his stomach. He could feel himself dying a little bit inside at the frightening state you were in, all because you were sacrificing your life for him. For his sake when he wasn’t even sure he deserved it.

You finally acknowledged his presence and spared him a glance. Your eyebrows furrowed together in distress and Spencer had to restrain himself from the temptation to put his thumb in between your eyebrows and smoothen out your stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. If he could take away all your pain, he would.

“He looks pissed,” you whisper-yelling at him. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to respond to your words. Even after you took the downfall and hard beatings for him, you still think about other’s well-being instead of yours.

You took another glance towards him from the lack of response from his part. Your eyes scanned his face briefly before your lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Spencer shook his head, refusing to believe your words. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and full of regret scratching his throat painfully.

“No, no,” you shook your head and quickly squashed his apology. “No apologies. We both know one of us has to take it.”

“But why should it be you?” Spencer hissed through his greeted teeth. His distress and agitation, and overall emotions that he had been trying to tuck and buried it away seeped into the surface. He could feel his mask cracking and threatened to be broken, and he was thankful for the roaring voice of Cyrus listing out names that masked his own. “Why should it be you? Why couldn’t it be me?”

“He had a gun against your head, Reid!” you hissed back with an equal amount of emotions laced on your voice. “I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t let them kill you. I know they would kill you first if one of us refused to answer. I can’t, Spencer, I—” you took a sharp breath and glanced away from his prying wide eyes. He could hear your voice wavering and your eyes glossed with tears. “Look at the people he’s releasing.”

“It’s the one who failed the loyalty test,” he observed. The previous slip of emotions was being put to the back of his mind again as he noticed the new fact he just found. “I’ll get word to the team, wait for the sign from outside indicating what time the raid will come.”

You stared at him with a wide eye, confusion and fear swirled together. You looked so vulnerable and small like that, like a polished porcelain that could crumble into dust anytime. Spencer nodded firmly and gave you a reassuring smile, silently asking you to believe him. He almost jolted with surprise when you grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly and briefly, understanding what he was trying to do.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

He nodded and turned away to make his way to Cyrus, not believing himself to utter any single words without breaking down. He was determined to make sure you were safe and would make it out alive, whatever it takes.

“Told her she shouldn’t have blinded you like that,” Spencer told Cyrus with a faux exasperation and disappointment. He shuddered when Cyrus nodded sympathetically.

“To either of us,” he corrected him sympathetically, which made Spencer want to do nothing but curl up in disgust. Cyrus jerked his chin towards your direction and addressed Christopher, “Bring her back.”

Spencer watched you being dragged up by your upper arms into wherever they were keeping you. He forcefully gulped and shook away the lump of dread on his throat, disbanding it as soon as it was formed. His eyes were apologetic and yours were nothing but filled with determination and forced bravery.

Those who had failed for the test were ushered out of the farm through the front door. Spencer mentally counted the amount of people who walked out into a guaranteed safety, relieved that it held a much greater amount that he had prepared. It was only a matter of saving the rest and finding a way in for the team to bring you and him out of this place.

Cyrus was making his final and last negotiation call with Rossi, asking for a fried chicken and its sides for their last supper and the presence of media to document his sacrifice to God. A suicide attempt to bring down himself and his faithful fanatic followers was a more appealing option to him rather than surrender himself to the authority apparently. It was obvious from the first time Spencer stepped into the building, but it still didn’t fail to fill him with dread and fear.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come,” Spencer explained to Christopher with a polite smile after he demanded how he had known Cyrus’s plan of final act of sacrifice all along. He maintained his gaze firmly and silently wishing that the team would catch his words through the parable microphone planted outside. It would be his only hope and way for them to come in.

***

Thick smog and fire blinded his sight and blocked his way. Spencer stumbled upon a block of brunt wooden log as Morgan dragged his limping body outside the chapel. Cyrus was dead, but Jesse had finished his suicide mission by blowing up the chapel and the rest of the building. He could hear sirens blaring outside and faint sounds of wails and fearful screams mixed together in the air.

The thought of you trapped inside the building flashed before his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have a moment to glance back to make sure about your whereabouts as he kept coughing and stumbling, Morgan’s grip still firm on his upper hand to drag him outside into safety. Fear started to paralyze his body that he nearly fell into the concrete fall face first. He just needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

He didn’t know that the sight of armed soldiers and police cars could bring an immense amount of comfort for him. Spencer nearly cried at the overwhelming relief that he was out unharmed, slipped by the last strand of his hair from his ultimate demise. But he couldn’t allow himself to be relieved and comfortable before he knew where you were. Before he knew if you were safe.

“Spencer!” your voice came faintly in between the chaotic sirens and the sound of angry fire eating up the chapel. “Morgan!”

Spencer watched you squirm out of Emily’s embrace, running limpy towards him. He knew he had burst into tears as soon as his eyes landed on you, safe, alive, although littered with bruises and dried blood on your shirt. His shoulders sank and shook as your arms wrapped around him tightly, all the horror, fear, and dread that he didn’t allow himself to feel in the past few days before had rushed into him and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

Relief and comfort of knowing you were safe in his arms was a breath of fresh air for his burned lungs. Usually he would squirm at the thought of touching someone, but the steady rise of your chest as you breath against him overcame all the unfortunate uncomfortable thoughts that came with the activity of hugging someone.

“You’re safe,” Spencer gasped as he released you from his embrace. He was aware that everyone was watching him hugging you and he fought all the mortification that slowly crept up his cheeks. He tried to mask it away as being a relief to find his coworker made it out alive from the sticky hostage situation.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him with one last firm squeeze on his arms. He wanted nothing but to pull you into his arms again, shield you for any harms lurking in the outside world. The anger that had been forgotten on the back of his mind surged inside him again. But he had to be satisfied with only one final squeeze as you parted from him to be checked by the paramedics.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet and a peaceful one. Everyone was winding up and breathing from the horror of the case that just wrapped up. Spencer tried his best to distract his mind with his book, burrowed in the furthest corner of the jet as the comforting and steady hum of the jet lulled him to sleep.

You slipped into the empty seat right across from him. A weak smile and a timid greeting were exchanged between you and silence followed right after. Spencer knew what conversation would follow after this, and he didn’t want to face it just yet. He had stopped reading from the moment you took the seat and watched him with careful eyes, but he still put up the act in the hope it would steer you away from bursting his bubble.

It did not. Spencer didn’t put up a fight as you gently took his book away from his hands and placed it gently on the table.

“I need you to listen to me,” you started with a firm voice. You were wearing the nice lilac shirt that Spencer liked, and the bruises on your face had started to heal and fade away. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision and I would do it again.”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you tilted your head with your lips pressing together, discouraging him to counter your statement. He took a sharp breath and shook his head.

“Do you hear me?” your voice was softer this time. Your hands silently reached for his and held them gently. Your thumb made a soothing pattern on his knuckles, a reassuring and determined smile was on your face. Spencer couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Do you hear me, Spencer? I will do it again. It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision.”

“I know,” he answered finally.

“Thank you.”

“Please know that I will do the same for you.”

His words had caught you off guard. You stared briefly before nodding, patting the top of his hand gently with your hand as you gave him a really bright smile. Spencer let himself sink further into the comfortable leather seat and let relief washed through him again. Everything will be okay.

#spencer reid #minimal loss #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #cm #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #cm fluff #cm angst #mgg #matthew gray gubler #minimal loss reimagined

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mountswhore · 3 years

Text

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 — mason mount

summary: after an argument ensues between the two of you, you’d decided to go for a drive. only for it to end worse than expected for the both of you.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of a car accident, mentions of blood and cuts

notes: requests are open

“I’m not ready to lose you.” + “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”

“Maybe you aren’t understanding,” you sighed, tired of the argument you and Mason were currently having, “I live with you, for fuck’s sake. I see you every night and every morning, so on my only day off, I want to see my family. We visit your family all the time, what about mine?”

Mason was tugging at his hair in stress, trying his hardest to keep his cool. It started when you’d gotten home late, after a nice day out with your mum and sisters, Mason sitting on the couch in complete silence. His argument was that you barely spent time together, especially since your careers kept you busy all the time. Your argument was that you see him during the day, whereas you don’t even speak to your parents for more than a minute on the phone. You understood his argument completely, you wanted to spend time with him, but he was dismissing your argument entirely.

“I rarely get time to spend with you, so when I actually get home from training early, you’re out all day with not even a note to tell me you’d gone.” Mason whined, following you into the kitchen as you left the living room. You both hated arguments, especially shouting, it wasn’t you at all. And usually your arguments were solved with just quiet talking, and a compromise. But tonight was something else.

“I don’t get that much time off.” You stated, making yourself comfortable on the island stool. You’d hoped Mason would just drop it, or at least see where you’re coming from. “If I knew you’d be finishing early, I would have offered you to come with me. But I didn’t know, Mase. I’m tired of this now.”

“You don’t think I’m tired of this?” Mason’s voice was gradually getting louder, and you squeezed your hands together to keep calm. “I’m tired of only seeing you when you’re sleeping, or half asleep as you walk through the door. I just want you, Y/N. We don’t even have sex anymore.”

“It’s not about sex, Mason. Not to me, anyway.” He was pulling every string and managed to get on every single one of your nerves, it was almost as if he were waiting for you to snap at him.

“Don’t try and spin this, I never said it was about sex. It’s just one of the many things we used to do, and don’t do anymore.” He’d shouted at you, his tone making it out to be your fault. You were the reason you didn’t have sex anymore, you were the reason you barely see each other any more.

“You can’t even have sex leading up to a match,” you reminded him, stopping at the stairs as you pulled your shoes back on. They’d only been off for twenty minutes, your bag still on your shoulder. “God, I’ve met rocks smarter than you,” you mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“Oh, fuck off Y/N. Why don’t you go and sleep at your family’s house if you want to see them so much?” He shouted back at you, walking to the kitchen and away from you. You’d made a habit of slamming the door after you, stomping over to your car and starting it up. Another thing you’d always done during your arguments, was wait until you were away from Mason to cry.

You’d left the driveway, tears falling from your eyes as you left Mason in your house alone. He was sat against the kitchen island in defeat, head in his hands and beginning to regret saying what he said. He didn’t want you to go to your family’s home and sleep there, he wanted you in his bed. Close to him. That’s all he wanted.

You’d taken a hand from the wheel to wipe the tears from your eyes, no doubt ruining your makeup in the process, and as another had fallen, you squeezed your eyes to push them all out. In the split second your eyes were closed, you’d heard a large horn and felt your body jolt to the side, hitting your head on your window. All you could manage to do was grab your phone and see a bunch of texts, vision blurred so you couldn’t see who they were from.

Whoever it was, you’d texted: ‘hel p.’ Before letting the darkness, that was pushing your eyelids down, consume you.

Mason had received your text and almost threw up with worry. He clenched his teeth tightly together as he threw on his shoes, running out to his car and taking the route you always took to your parents. He knew you avoided motorways whenever you could, and he finally saw your car, both sides battered completely. He could barely breathe as he leapt out of his car, leaving the door wide open and going to check on you.

Your head was rested against the cracked window, he could see small shards impaling the skin of your face. His eyes were bleeding tears at this point, yanking on the doors but they wouldn’t open. Finally, your door had been forced open by his hands and he held you tight. He could feel your breath on his arm, so he knew not to assume the worst. His tears were landing on your hair, creating a small wet patch on your hairline.

“Wake up, please don’t do this to me.” He whimpered, holding you tighter to his chest as if it were doing something, “I’m not ready to lose you.” Your body felt limp, lifeless even, it was a feeling he never wanted to feel again. His chest ached with the sobs leaving him, wanting to curl up with you in bed. With you alive and well.

Finally, after holding you close to him, he’d called an ambulance. His voice shaking as he named the road and gave them your details. If he’d just listened to you, you wouldn’t be here right now, completely knocked out and in pain. He’d taken you from the car and carried you in his arms to his own. The sirens were rapidly approaching, his tears still falling from his eyes when they took you. He didn’t want to leave you, but he’d followed the ambulance to the hospital.

For hours he waited, eyes hopeful as a doctor left your room, but they’d walked the opposite way. The last he’d heard was that you were being taken into surgery, to remove the glass shards and stitch up the wounds on your head. He was advised to go home, grab you a change of clothes and get some sleep. But he refused. He wasn’t leaving this hospital until you were out with him. He wasn’t leaving until you knew how sorry he was for what he’d done.

He wept into his hands silently in the corner of the waiting room, lifting his hood up to avoid anyone who might know who he was. He’d contacted your family, telling them you’d been in an accident and that you were awaiting surgery. Of course they’d told Mason to keep them updated, wishing him and you well. He was shaking the entirety of the time he waited for you, finally a nurse coming up to him as he’d closed his eyes for a short while. It was almost 11 now, forgetting you’d gotten home late that night.

“She’s out of surgery,” the nurse confirmed, Mason’s heart beating faster for you, “she’s being transferred to a private room, and you’ll be able to see her there. We will have to keep her overnight, and we don’t allow visitors during the night. But visiting hours open at 6 tomorrow morning. Mason just nodded, he’d do whatever to see you again.

After an hour of waiting, he was finally allowed into your room. You were still groggy but upon seeing Mason’s face, all was forgotten. Grateful was an understatement, you’d been lucky enough to see Mason again. He sat down beside you, hand slipping through the wires and into your own, squeezing it gently.

“Hello, bubs.” He whispered, afraid of his voice breaking from the tears that had started back up again. You smiled weakly at him, biting you lip to contain your smile. “How you feeling?”

“Like death, if I’m honest.”

“You still look gorgeous even after being in a car wreck.” Mason admitted, brushing the hairs away from your eyes. The tiny cuts and stitches were dotted around your face, but your eyes still gleamed hopefully. Like they did when you first met.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, “I’m sorry.” You cried, trying to turn away from Mason but it hurt to do so. Your whole body ached from being slammed into so hard.

“There’s not a thing to be sorry for, bubs.” Mason assured you, the pads of his thumbs wiping your tears away, “forget about the argument. Spend as much time as you want with your family, I don’t care. I’m just glad to still have you.”

“I should spend more time with you,” you mumbled into his hand, kissing his palm softly, “I’m sorry for not being around much. We need to make time for each other.” Mason just nodded, so full of joy to have you back with him.

#money mase #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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koqabear · 3 years

Text

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. “I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

#txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt ff #txt fanfiction #tomorrow x together #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #txt reader #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun ff #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #fanfic #reader insert #txt oneshots #yeonjun oneshot

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

I see that ur request is open, u don't have to do mine (I just rly wanna see how this gonna turn out 🤡)

But may i request a yandere farmer x fem reader

(I'm not rly into any fandom so you can just pick any or Rhys is fine too 👀)

My jam, and you know what? I owe everyone named Alex something, so let me create this wonderful buff farmer!yandere named Alex who I don’t kill off this time, I promise. Enjoy!

I uh, did hint at my ideas for yandere farmers with Milo from Pokémon before so yeah. Let’s go over that again, shall we? I’ll give a warning for pet play for those unfamiliar.

Rated Lime

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

It’s still early in the morning when you hear the jarring sound of the barn door opening. For a moment, you hope that all you experienced for the last few days had been a dream, but your body still aches from sleeping on the cold ground, revealing the heavy truth. You can hear the chipper, “Good morning, ladies!” as the cows start to moo in response, the unbearable smell of fecal and urine drifting towards you with the fresh air coming in from outside.

It’s time to get up, scream, do something! But you blink a few times, your swollen eyes barely opening after you cried yourself to sleep last night, and you look at the iron cuffs around your wrists. Why even trying? you ask yourself, immediately discarding the thought and pushing yourself from the floor. No, it’s too early to give up. You can’t let yourself down like this yet.

“And good morning, Sunshine.” The voice next to you makes you flinch as you look up into the chestnut eyes of your captor. He tips his cap, smiling. You’re disgusted by his presence alone, but a sweet smell comes your way. Leaning over the wooden barriers he put up as your ‘pen’, Alex holds a plate in his hands, pancakes stacking up on top of it with blueberries rolling off of them. The food is still warm, steam visibly rising from them in the colder morning air.

He looks at you expectantly when you don’t make a move, only trying to hide the saliva building in your mouth. You haven’t had a homemade breakfast in a long time, much less proper food in the last few days. There is no telling if your body can still stomach something as delicious as pancakes, but you prefer it so much more than the weird grain mix he also feeds to the cows and would shove down your throat. “Thought you might be hungry, Babe,” he smiles as he sees the desire in your eyes, his own gaze never straying from you, taking in every last flinch and move of yours.

In a way, you are like a wild animal to him, that much he told you. He restricted your movements with chains, fed you like cattle, and treated you like a dog, cooing and using the carrot and stick method to handle you. It’s disgusting, but by now, you at least feel as dirty as one. Using the fork he brought along, Alex cuts off a piece from the breakfast, eating from it first, his eyes staring into yours as he does it. Did he do it to show he didn’t poison it? Does he want to claim this plate of pancakes for himself? But why would he bring it to you in the first place if that’s the case?

Still chewing, he puts the fork down, pulling another pancake piece off the plate with his bare fingers, and holds it out to you. He was eager to lessen the distance between you and him from day one, but his dirty methods made you want to spit in his face. Stomach growling, you are at a loss of what to do. If you let him feed you like a dog, there was no way he’d keep it at that, but perhaps this was your only chance on receiving actual, human food he’d give you if you refuse him.

Your chains rattle as you scoot closer, refusing to play the captured animal and crawl on all fours. Every muscle of yours is sore and hurt from the cold, but there is no other way, the chains around your wrists and ankles keeping you down with their weight. Instead, you stretch your neck as far as possible, your back tensing up in response until your mouth is under his fingers and the piece of pancake hanging from them. But Alex doesn’t just let the food go, watching you with an excited grin as you carefully put the piece between your teeth. Only then does he let go, and you are able to claim the sweet sensation on your tongue as yours.

Eager, Alex holds out another piece, and you take it without even swallowing the first one completely. Something in you completely set out as your brain is satisfied with sugary sweet and fluffy pancakes melting in your mouth, their warmth going through your whole body. You are hooked on the rush of food, you don’t notice your tongue lapping up the syrup on his fingers with the next piece of pancake until it’s too late. But Alex notices, his lips immediately turning into a disgusting grin of self-satisfaction, and he reaches for your face, fingers curling under your chin and thumb rubbing over your cheek.

Immediately, you shy away, disgusted by his touch and disappointed in yourself that you didn’t see it coming. In the reflection of his wide-open, maniacally staring eyes, you can see how dirty and disgusting you are after living like a barn animal for days, and that is precisely how Alex sees you. An animal that he just touched for the first time. Who came to him of their own free will. To him, it is progress. To you, despair.

“Come,” he entices, luring you with more pancakes, but you feign disinterest. “Don’t be scared now. I know you like it.”

The pancakes? Yes. Him? Not at all.

“You need to eat to get big and strong, you know?”

“I’m not a baby animal,” you hiss back, putting on the meanest glare you can muster.

“You sure act like one,” Alex reminds you tauntingly, his smile unfading but his expression less amused than it had been before. “Licking at my fingers, coming to me for food. Don’t you think that’s what a good pet does? You’ve been holed up in your corner for too long. You should be more grateful for my efforts, just like the cows.”

Gnawing at your lip, your eyes fall from his to the pancake slowly growing cold. Only now do you realize he has been feeding you with these fingers of his without your knowledge if they were dirty or clean. Being a farmer, you never know where he puts them before approaching you, and you grow more disgusted for having fallen into this trap he had laid out for you.

Suddenly, for the first time, you hear him sigh. Even when he scratched his head and wondered what to do with you before, he never once had sighed. Somehow, it makes you shudder, a bad feeling spreading in your stomach as he hangs his head, shaking it.

“I’m not asking much, you know. Here’s the deal.” His eyes are ice-cold as he looks up again, and Alex roughly throws the piece of pancake to the floor right in front of you. It no longer looks appetizing, but you are more afraid of the man before you than the wasted food. “Eat it,” he orders commandingly, fitting this whole scenario he imagines you two to play in.

“Ew, no--” you want to protest, furrowing your brows when he interrupts you harshly by throwing the whole plate, including the pancakes, to the ground inside your pen. “In less than an hour, your whole fucking pen will be swarmed by ants. But I’ve got something better for you.”

Pointing to the piece of food before you, Alex repeats, “Eat it,” and this time, you don’t dare to respond. “Eat, and you can come inside with me.”

At this, your ears perk up, eyes widening. “I-Inside?” you ask, doubting that he meant what he said. “Yeah. I prepared a nice box for you in the house, warm and cozy. Clean water and a hot shower included, but I need to know that you are willing to listen to me, you understand?”

Body trembling, you sit there like a deer in the headlights. This is too good to be true, and you fear how high the price is that you’d have to pay if agreed. Listening to him can’t possibly be the only thing he’d want once you were inside, but you watch as the first few flies come over from the cows, wanting to get a piece of the delicious breakfast wasted on the ground. You’d have no peace if you stayed here - never.

Your hand reaches out but just as quickly pulls back. “What will we do inside?” you squeak, unable to control your anxious stuttering. Now that Alex’s lips curl back into a smile, you see his sinister side for the first time. He is leaning casually onto the barricade, but his whole demeanor changed into something horrifying, something that gives you the vibes of a sick and twisted person more than ever. “Don’t ask, just decide. Eat and come inside with me, or stay here between cows, piss, and shit. Maybe you can be useful for milk production?”

The pure horror of thinking about what that fate would entail makes you go weak, and in less than a few seconds, you had gobbled up the piece of pancake, stuffing it into your mouth. Immediately you feel the recoil of your body after doing something so disgusting, but you hold back from spitting it out, already having come so far. “Good girl,” he praises you in a belittling tone like you’d use for pets and children. Opening up your pen by unlocking the many locks he had put on for safety, Alex doesn’t mind the food on the ground, neither slipping on it and breaking his neck like you hoped for, nor having shards of the plate go through his boots.

“Give me your hand,” he asks, holding his own out until you slowly lift yours into his. The chains are way too heavy, but the fear keeps you working even though your wrists are open wounds from the chafing cuffs. “Good,” he keeps praising, repeating the progress for your other hand. “You’re learning so quickly, look at you. Attagirl!”

You don’t dare to rub your bleeding wrists as they are finally free, but a giant boulder falls from your heart as you feel relief set in. “Damn, you do need a good bath, though,” Alex mutters as he sits down beside you, proceeding to uncuff your ankles. You feel a sense of shame, not being able to smell yourself anymore but not wanting to imagine it either.

Finally, you are free of all restrains, but before you can try doing anything funny, Alex picks you up in his arms, his broad chest in front of your face and the smell of aftershave and sweat filling your nose. You didn’t know that was how he smelled. After all, he brought you here unconscious, and when you woke up, you were already in this shitty pen, cuffed and gagged for the first two days.

“Feeling good?” he asks you as he notices how quiet you’ve gotten, not much left of your spiteful self that would scream and curse at him before. You nod slowly, not looking up. Looking at him from close-up might cause you to puke after all, and you’ve worked too hard to get to this point. Alex gives you a rough, scolding shake, and you instinctively grip onto his shirt. “Tell me.”

“Yes...” you mumble, hoping that will be enough to satisfy him, and Alex gives you another sigh before shrugging lightly and adjusting you in his arms. “That’s something we can work on,” he promises you for another time, and you keep your head low as he carries you outside.

It’s been way too long that you saw the morning dew on the grass, fog covering the fields in the distance, and the sun only starting to fully rise above you. It makes you look up in awe, unknowingly being observed by a curious pair of eyes from above. Being outside again almost makes the trouble worth it, and you are able to find happiness in this small victory.

But you have yet to grasp the consequences of your decision. Even if it looked great in the image you had in your mind, you aren’t aware of the state of the house inside, what was waiting for you behind the pretty facade of a farmer’s home. The demands he has of you that Alex had yet to reveal and how eager he was to train his adorable little darling. Make you just as dependant and obsessed with him as his animals were, while you’d share their place at the end of the bed for a long time.

And you didn’t even know about the collar yet.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A/N: Oh god, I haven’t written anything in the present tense for a loooong time. I hope it was readable! Sorry in advance if I messed up occasionally, I tried to get everything sorted out properly... >_< Still, a very enjoyable write and I hope the read as well!

#yandere!farmer #farmer #yandere farmer #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

For You

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You and Minho are a little more than just an heiress and her bodyguard, but you know your parents would never approve of a relationship like this unless...

Warning: anxiety, injury

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x bodyguard!Minho

He is buttoning up his shirt after a warm shower when his phone buzzes. He smirks at your caller ID on the screen before picking it up. “What, miss me alr—”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you.”

Minho drops his smile and grips his phone tighter at the tone of your voice. Panic bubbles in his chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just… out right now, and it got dark a little quicker than I thought. I know you’re off the clock on Sundays, but—”

“It’s okay. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?”

“I’m near the 7-11 near your house. The one with the blue umbrellas in front.”

“Okay. Go inside for now. I’m coming.”

“Alright. Thank you, Minho. And sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s my job. Call again if something happens before I get there.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”

Minho doesn’t even bother drying his hair and dashes out the door. He runs and runs, unease crawling up his skin, but when he sees you through the window of the convenience store, his stomach completely drops. There you stand with your shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around yourself, and knees bowed in, a stark contrast to the proud heiress he is used to seeing.

The worker who is leaning over the counter seems to be saying something as Minho bursts in. “If you aren’t buyin’, pay for your loitering with cha number, sugar.”

Minho slaps a bill on the counter and takes a bag of chocolates. “There. She’s a customer,” he hisses. Turning to you who looks shocked by his sudden appearance, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod dumbly.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you to the door, using himself to shield you from the eyes of the worker.

He thought you’d relax a little after getting away from the creep, but your posture remains closed off. He wants to ask why but does not know if you’re ready for that yet. Instead, you break the silence first.

“Thank you for coming, and sorry for ruining your Sunday.”

“Y/N, you know I’m always ready to be by your side.”

He looks for clues. You have on a deep blue dress, minimal jewelry, and light makeup. In other words, effortlessly enchanting, but that’s not important; you went to something fancy but not overly formal. A first date? Minho’s heart starts racing at the thought. He needs to know. “What were you doing out here by yourself?”

You bite your lip. Instead of answering, you tug on the cuff of his shirt gingerly with the tips of your fingers. “I-is it alright if I don’t talk about it?”

His chest breaks at how fragile your voice is. He stops in his tracks and looks at you.

“I-is it not?” you squeak.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why are you—”

“You look like you need this.”

He steps up to you under the streetlight and wraps you into a hug, gently stroking your back.

“Minho!” you gasp. “What if someone sees?”

You’re an heiress. Your choices of men are Chan from JY Group, Changbin from Seo Enterprise, or even Jisung from Han Motors. Lee Minho the bodyguard is definitely not on that list even if your heart is taking flight from this small gesture of endearment.

“Why does that matter?” he hushes you.

“If Father finds out, you’d lose your job.”

“I’d rather that than not be able to be here for you when you need it,” he says plainly and holds you tighter when you try to push him away.

Gradually, he feels you give up and give in to his embrace. Finally, he feels you begin to shake as tears escape your eyes.

“It was so scary,” you whimper. “I was so scared.”

Your words are like hammers battering his chest,making it impossible to breathe. He holds you tighter and speaks quietly, letting the vibration of his voice calm you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

You arrive at the gates of your house, an empty bag of convenience store chocolates between your fingers.

“Minho?”

“Yes?”

“Father can’t know what happened. Are my eyes swollen?”

He turns you by the shoulder so he is directly looking into them. “Not at all. They’re—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your father approaching, and cuts his sentence short. “Good evening, Mister L/N,” he greets.

“Ah, Minho. What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“I found Miss Y/N around my neighborhood and thought it best to escort her home.”

“You found her around your neighborhood?”

“Yes, I was just taking an evening stroll.”

“Evening stroll?” he echoes yet again. The old man looks at the younger one’s wet, unbrushed hair.

Minho can’t do a thing but cough nervously, knowing how weak his lie is.

Thankfully, your father does not comment further. He looks between the two of you and smiles to himself. “Alright. Since you’re here, you should escort her all the way to the house.”

“Yes, sir,” Minho bows. When he straightens up again, he grins at you. “Shall we go?”

You nod with a smile of your own. “Thank you, Minho. Really.”

“Like I said, I’m always here for you.”

He cheekily takes your hand in his and hides it behind his back in case your father turns around.

“Oh, and Y/N?” he whispers.

“Hm?”

He swipes an eyelash that fell with your tears from your cheek. “They’re not swollen; they’re beautiful.”

Your father coughs loudly in front of you.

The following week, you accompany your parents to a showing of the latest models of Han Motors. Of course, this means Minho is to lurk around in the shadows and follow you all night. At least, that’s what he’s supposed to do instead of being dragged out to the main floor by you to discuss which refreshment tastes the best.

“You know, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so,” Minho teasingly whispers into your ear.

“Shush and try this.” You roll your eyes and stuff a truffle-topped cracker between his lips.

Minho chews for a moment before commenting, “Not great. Better than the cherry thing earlier, but the truffles your uncle gave you last time was better.”

You take one and mull over it yourself. “You’re right. This one’s too sweet.”

“Like someone I know,” he sighs off-handedly.

You snort. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about me or yourself.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m worthy of being called ‘sweet?’”

“Good gracious,” you roll your eyes.

The two of you have tried less and less to suppress your flirting. Thankfully, most of your comments are made in indecipherable whispers or behind closed doors, so most people haven’t noticed, but those who did definitely have a thing or two to say about it.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice breaks your conversation.

You walk quickly past displays of shiny luxury cars to where she is. “Yes, Mother?”

She looks past you at Minho. “This does not involve you.”

Without missing a beat, he bows. Before he leaves though, you flash him a hand signal. Stay nearby.

“You should meet the Hans’ son tonight,” your mother tells you after Minho is gone from her sight.

“Mother, I’ve already met him at my birthday party last year.”

“Yes, but this time, meet him as a man like you’re supposed to, you understand?”

“Mother, Jisung already has his eyes on—”

“Madam Han!” your mother calls before you can even finish your sentence. You close your eyes to roll them and let your shoulders slouch, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

The said woman walks over, her son in tow to help his mother introduce new cars. “Madam L/N! It is good to see you.”

First the sweet talk.

“Your face is smaller every time I see it. How do you do it?”

“Oh, you flatter me!”

Then an indirect indication of true intentions.

“It’s the truth! You simply must tell me your secrets. In the meantime, let’s have our children play amongst themselves.”

Madam Han quickly understands her implication. “Of course! They must be bored being around us old ladies. Jisung dear, take care of Miss Y/N, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mother,” he promises obediently.

You watch as the two women walk away in a fit of faux compliments. Despite leaving the two of you alone, you know they have hawk eyes on you to make sure you do as they intend.

“So,” you decide to play along, “we, uh, meet again, Jisung.”

“Yep.” He clasps his hands in front of him and looks around nervously. Not much of a conversationalist, you note.

“Tell me about this car.” You motion towards a blue SUV nearby.

“Ah, yes!” You can see the boy light up from having something he can actually talk about. “This is the Model YG. It is a family car, but it certainly does not leave out the power and class of a…”

You soon tune him out. You both know you have no interest in cars anyway, and he’s just glad to have something to fill the silence with. Your eyes begin to wander, and you catch sight of something darting around. You first pass it off as your imagination, but when you see it again, alarms go off in your head.

You grab the arm next to you. “Minho.”

Jisung looks at you inquisitively. “I’m Jisung.”

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I need to find my bodyguard. I think there’s something—”

Just then, a low whistle cuts through the air. You look up and see the giant chandelier above you beginning to tilt.

“Run!”

Unfortunately, you are right at the center of the whole structure. You bolt away right behind Jisung, but there is just no way your stupid heels can keep up with his powerful strides. There isn’t much time. You aren’t going to make it. You can hear the lower hanging parts of the light structure crashing and shattering when someone tackles you to the floor, shielding you with his own body.

“Minho!”

He lets out a hallowed gasp as a metal rod strikes him in the back. He struggles to regain his breath but keeps his eyes trained on you.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you repeat, knowing that’s what he wants to hear most.

It’s your turn to worry about him now as he continues struggling to breathe. You help him sit upright, trying to avoid touching the million shards of glass impaling his skin.

“Miss L/N!” You turn and see Jisung calling you from the perimeter of the mess. Thankfully, he does not look too scathed. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m—”

“Get away from my daughter!”

Amidst the panic and army of security running about, everyone looks up at your mother fuming on the second floor. It is only then you realize how intimate your position with Minho is. You’re seated between his legs, turned towards him, and he has his arms around you, using your body to press on his spazzing diaphragm.

A new voice directs everyone’s attention. “Are you crazy?” It is your father this time, pulling his wife away from the railings. “He just saved her! What are you doing?”

“Jisung was supposed to save her!”

“Jisung saved himself! Can’t you see? Minho’s the one who’s willing to risk himself for our daughter. What more do you have against that?”

You blush under the eyes your parents’ conversation has put on you, but Minho does not back down. He keeps you covered as you shrink in embarrassment.

“Jisung just needs more time with her!” your mother continues. “He’ll learn to love her!”

“Like you ever learned to love me? How many years have we been married? How many years have we tried to learn to love? Do you really wish the same thing for our daughter?”

A wave of gasps ripple through the building. Security has caught the criminals who sabotaged the convention, but no one cares. You can feel your stock prices dropping. You and your family are going to be on the front cover of every gossip magazine tomorrow. You struggle to find something— anything— to distract the crowd from what was just said. You need something big— something even bigger than your father’s confession.

In the midst of your dilemma, it is Minho who speaks first. “Let’s date.”

Another gasp echoes across the crowd. At least that did the trick.

“What are you doing?” you whisper-scream at him.

“What?” he says not-so-quietly. “Your father’s giving me permission. We might as well make it official. I promise to protect you and cherish you for the rest of our lives. What do you say, Y/N?”

Jisung is the first to start chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” and is soon joined by the rest of the party-goers. Your mother nearly faints and your father beams proudly.

“Okay,” you finally agree.

“Then kiss me,” he prompts, and you do.

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