#i used to shut myself in my room because of abuse and yet *i* was the problem so i hope you see why i feel this way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seospicybin · 6 months

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DON'T THEY KNOW IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD?

PART I

Lee know x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: Making a contact with an ancient object, you meet a demon who takes form of the man you desired and forces you to commit terrible acts to stop the world from ending. (14k words)

Author's note: I indulge myself with a spooky fic and demon Minho in it. Read with cautions and enjoy x

Based on an episode of Black Mirror. Content warnings: Violence, gore, mentions of abuse, assaults and graphic imagery. Reader's discretion is advised!

"Carving is easy. You just go down to the skin and stop." - Michelangelo

Oh, no! You're doing it again.

When you think you're talking in your head, you're actually talking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. It's even worse that your voice is echoing in the big chamber of the empty gallery.

They seem to not care about it or pretend to because Kim has just walked in to check everyone's work. She's your friend from art school turns an art dealer and she has a way to control everyone around her.

"I told you to let us do it for you," she says, clicking her tongue at you and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The gallery is having some of your pieces of art displayed for the exhibition tonight and you want to make sure that they're presented the way you envisioned it.

You carefully step down the ladder and stand next to Kim, looking at the sculpture you made of a man holding an arrow with an apple stuck at the end of the arrow.

You hear Kim dreamily sigh then look at you, "You're going to sell..." She pauses to emphasize the word she's going to say next, "Big!"

Money isn't the reason why you create these sculptures but you need it in order to keep being able to do this. You have no idea how expensive a block of stone is!

The reason why you made these sculptures is because this is what you love doing: envision your imagination onto a block of stone and you carve it to bring it to life.

Why did you choose stone as the medium? Because they're durable, stubborn yet resilient. It takes time to create one sculpture but once you've seen the result, you forget about the hard work behind it.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder and snaps you out of your reverie, "Stop worrying about your sculptures," she says.

She turns you around to force you to face her and puts her other hand on your shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Put some color on those cheeks. Have a pre-party with a glass of wine or two."

Dressing up sounds like a lot of work, you'd rather stay in your dungarees and striped top, "Can I just wear these?"

It's like she has just heard someone dies, Kim's hand flies to her temple and screws her eyes shut for a second, "Trust me when I say that the people coming tonight wouldn't expect the artist behind these magnificent sculptures to look like Chucky," she says with a sneering smile.

She squeezes your shoulder and tilts her head to the side, "And that's me putting it the nicest way possible because you're my friend."

It's still a mystery how you ended up friends with someone like Kim, she's the opposite of what you are, an extrovert, a tolerable narcissist, she likes attention and is forthright to the point it's borderline insolent. You're so used to her audacious way of treating you and the blunt words that come out of her red-lipped mouth.

She's been like this even before you met her and you are the friend who likes to suffer in silence, you think that's why you became friends. Nevertheless, Kim treats you better than she treats anyone else for that matter.

That explains why the gallery staff are so afraid of her. It's always best to get out of her way unless she wants you to be there. You pick up your bag from the floor along with your jacket.

"I'll go then," you meekly say.

She grabs your elbow before leaving, "Go home," she says with a glare.

"Home. Not your studio," she says again, making it clear to you.

She knows you well enough to know that you like spending your days in your studio instead of your apartment. You sling the strap of your bag on one shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Come to the exhibition late," you repeat the things she wanted you to do.

Kim smiles and gently cups your cheek, "Good girl. Now go!"

Once you get home though, you spend hours just sitting in the emptiness that lingers in your apartment that is too big for one person to live in it.

This is why you prefer to stay in your studio, you like to keep your head occupied rather than being alone with your thoughts like this.

And your thoughts, they're mostly of unkind things and...

Your phone rings from inside your bag and steers your mind back to your head. Without having to look at it, you can tell who it is. There are no other people who call you daily except, well, if it's an emergency call.

"Are you getting ready yet?" Kim goes straight to the point.

"Uh... yeah, I just showered, I—" you jolt awake from lying down on the sofa.

"I'm having problems picking what to wear," you add a laugh in the hope of sounding convincing.

There's a wave of laughter from her end of the phone call before Kim talks to the phone, "Stop joking. Do you like it?"

You get completely confused because she suddenly compliments herself out of the blue, "Huh? What?"

You can hear her dramatic, low sigh and you can imagine her subtle eye roll as she's doing it, "The dress. The one I hung in your closet," she tells you.

You quietly trudge your way to the closet and open it to find the said dress.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" You hurriedly say, not wanting to let her get suspicious as she waits for a response.

"Aren't you lucky to have me as your friend?" she exclaims, sounding so confident with her words.

"I am the luckiest," you tell her as you observe the dress and already regretting hastily approving the dress as you notice it has a plunging neckline.

"I know," she brags and her smirk flashes through your head.

In the background, you hear something is calling her and Kim answers with a shout, "I'm coming."

She dramatically sighs before talking to you, "Work is calling. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, see you tonight!" You're more than relieved to end the phone call with her.

It's too early to celebrate as she hasn't ended the call yet and she always ends the call first. You have an inkling that she'll call your name.

Indeed, she is.

"Hey, don't forget to take your meds, okay?" She says.

That's probably the only yet the most endearing thing she does to you and what makes her your friend.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," you tell her.

It's time to fully assess the dress and you're in awe of how much skin you'll show if you're wearing this. Of course, you have the option not to wear but it all comes down to wearing the dress or facing Kim's wrath.

The former seems to be the safer choice and also because you're not a confrontational person, you like to avoid conflict.

Not wearing the dress means you're going straight into conflict and you don't want that.

With a defeated spirit, you put the dress on even though you have no idea how to move in such a tight dress. You summon up your below-average make-up skill for tonight and put some colors on you.

Not forgetting Kim's words, you take your medicine and wash it down with a long gulp of water. You give yourself a few minutes as you wait for the medicine to work while you sit on the couch holding a glass of water in both hands, staring out at the view from your apartment.

Kim insisted you take this apartment when you're okay with living in the studio. Not only that it's too expensive of a place to live on your own but a big place only makes you inexplicably lonely.

However, after seeing the view from up here, you feel like you're not part of this world in the most humbling way. Seeing the city and the buildings look like pieces of block makes you realize that they don't matter that much. They're all just... material things.

You sigh as you get hit by a wave of melancholia and you take it that the medicine is working.

Uncomfortable walking out of your apartment in your dress, you put on a coat as you leave the apartment with the sounds of your heels clicking against the floor.

The owner of the building passed away yesterday, there are so many guests visiting the penthouse where he lived. The first elevator that arrives on your floor is crowded so you skip on getting on that one. You patiently wait for the next one to arrive while clutching your purse in front of you.

A minute later, the other elevator arrives and the doors slide open, you see there's someone else inside. You believe he's been from the penthouse from how he dressed in all black.

You look down to avoid eye contact and step inside, standing at the back of the limited space while trying not to look at the man's face on the reflection from the mirror that walled the elevator.

Arrived in the main lobby, the elevator dings open and the man doesn't waste time but walks out with hands shoved inside his coat pocket.

You fix your coat before stepping out and you feel your feet kicking on something, it's clattering across the floor. You bend down to pick it up, something that you guess is a pocket watch.

Your first thought is that it belongs to the man and you look around to see if he's still around to give it to him, but he's nowhere. It's as if he's gone with the wind.

"Miss, your driver has been waiting outside!" The concierge informs you from behind his desk the second he sees you.

"Yes. I'm coming!" You hurriedly shove the pocket watch inside your purse.

As Kim instructed, you come late to the exhibition and it's already filled with people dressed so impeccably for the occasion. You take a deep breath before entering the scene that is the least you wanted to be.

You take your coat off and hand it to the girl handling the coat check, along with your purse. You feel naked even though you're not, but it's not just the dress, being in the crowd is not your forte.

The first thing to do in a situation like this is to find Kim. You avoid making contact with everyone you're walking past as you look for her in the crowd. It's not hard to spot her when she's always the center of attention anywhere she is.

"There she is!" She gasps the moment she sees you're coming her way.

She puts away her champagne flute and walks up to you, embracing you like the trophy you are, "My rising star!"

Kim puts her hand on the small of your back and smiles brightly while discreetly judging your look.

"Isn't she amazing?" She brags you off to the group of people she's talking to.

You can only sheepishly smile next to her and avoid everyone's eyes.

"She is the artist behind those magnificent sculptures," she adds with that saccharine smile of hers.

They're starting to throw praises at you and you can hear all of them talking at once, making you more uncomfortable staying in there.

You take a step back but Kim's hand does not allow you to escape, she glances at you and takes the cue.

"Excuse us," Kim says to everyone, "Enjoy the exhibition!"

Kim steers you away and pulls you aside, before you can comment on her choice of dress, she snatches the chance from you.

"You could've picked nicker shoes," she whispers through her gritted teeth at you.

You automatically look down to see your heeled shoes which you think match the dress you're wearing.

"I–I think it's—"

She cuts through your words, not giving you a chance to explain. She grabs you by the elbow, "We have no time to change it," she says, then steers you somewhere.

As Kim continues to brag you around like you're the art piece instead of the artist, you start to get that feeling that she's using you.

As a matter of fact, she used you to propel her career as an art dealer. Ever since you agreed to let her sell your art for you, her career took off.

You're more than happy to be of help but she does everything extra and she's been taking you to meet a lot of people that their faces started to blur and it's getting overwhelming that you need to get out of it.

"I'll just—" You barely finish your sentence when you walk away and find somewhere to gain some composure.

You keep walking until you find the restroom and push yourself inside, lock yourself in one of the stalls just sit on the toilet, and just breathe.

You hear the ruckus outside the stall and someone probably needs to use the toilet, you reluctantly get up to start heading outside.

The plan to leave unnoticed comes to a failure when Kim is already there right outside the restroom, "Where have you been?"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and try to explain, "Kim, I don't think I can do this anymore. I—"

Then again, she never let you finish your sentence, "One more. I need you to meet your new potential buyer."

You grip the side of your dress and you feel like tearing it apart, "No, Kim. You know how I do with people, I don't— I just want to go home," you desperately tell her just to let you go when you're an adult and can do whatever you want.

Kim lets out an exaggerated huff and sends her fringe flying off her forehead, crossing her arms in front of her and you know what's coming for you.

"You think I'm doing this for me?" She asks.

Actually, yes. The initial plan is to sell your art but in the end, she makes it all about her.

"I'm doing it for you!" She says, turning it all on to you. She always finds a way to turn it all on to you, making you feel guilty and defeated.

Talking back to her means that you're saying yes to war and you don't want to fight a losing fight. You fist the fabric of your dress trying to suppress the anger brewing inside you.

"Just one more person," you meekly say.

Her face softens at the sign that you're once again giving her the power, "That's right. Just one more and I'll let you go."

You finally let go of your dress and you wipe your sweaty palm down the back of your dress as she guides you back to the gallery.

"All you have to do is stand next to me, smiling and explaining your art to people," Kim instructed like that wasn't what you've been doing all night.

Except that she forgot that you need to fake all of that.

Kim takes you to one of your sculpture displays and three people in suits have been waiting, talking with drinks in their hands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Kim says with an extra polite voice that makes you shudder at how fake she sounded.

"Heard you're looking for the amazing artist behind these beautiful sculptures?" She continues, presenting you like you're the one who's about to get sold, not the sculpture.

One of the three seems to be the one in charge with a stance that oozes confidence and power, a smirk that only someone who grew up with a silver spoon stuck to his mouth can master. He looks years older than you but his face shows no fine lines but that's just because he never had to frown in his life.

"I adore your art so much," he praises with a teeth-baring smile.

Kim turns at you and introduces him, "This is Nicholas de Ville from the de Ville family."

The way she enunciated his last name only means that this person holds importance and she expects you to impress him.

He holds his hand out next with an expensive, shining wristwatch decorated his wrist, "I'm Nicholas de Ville. You can call me Nick."

He may seem nice and polite because all privileged people learn manners but they only apply that lesson in real life occasionally.

You take his hand or else Kim will force you to do it. You shake his hand for a while and accidentally meet his gaze as you try to take your hand back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Ville!" You say as politely as you can.

"Nick, please!" He insists with a smile.

"And the pleasure is all mine." He adds with a smile that says so many things and they send a chill down your spine.

Kim lets go of her hand and lightly touches you on your arm, "Mr. de Ville wants to know more about your sculptures so..." she quietly pushes you his way.

Nick courteously laughs and says, "Would you be kind enough to give me the tour?"

You consider it for a moment but seeing Kim's glare, you know you have no option.

"Yes, sure, I would love to," you answer with a strained smile.

"Great! Please, lead the way!" Nick says.

When you think the other two are coming with you, it's just you and Nick, walking through your sculptures and you explain each one without trying to bore him like Kim has taught you a few times.

"... it's inspired by the Greek mythology. The apple in the arrow means that when it comes to love, we know no rules, we follow our desires—"

Nick is too busy looking at you instead of looking at the sculpture you're tirelessly explaining to him. Guessing that he isn't interested, you stop talking altogether.

"I'm sorry if I'm rambling," you sheepishly say to him and keep looking at the sculpture.

"No, no, that's okay," Nick says with a smile and takes a stand close to you, also looking at the sculpture.

"Your art is as beautiful as you," he says.

You're getting uncomfortable at how close he is with his elbow brushing yours. You nervously swallow air and lowly mutter, "Thank you."

Nick takes it the wrong way. He takes it that you're replying to his flirtation when you thought he was earnestly complimenting you, he starts to place his hand on your shoulder.

You reflexively shrug his hand away but that only sends his hand down to your back where he can touch your exposed skin. As his fingers make contact with your skin, you take a step back until his hand drops.

"I'm sorry," you regret apologizing for something that you didn't do wrong.

He looks at you as if he didn't just do something wrong or touch you without your consent. You feel repulsed by yourself and take another step back, "I'm sorry, I just need to—"

You keep walking away, away and never looking back.

The musty smell and dust that hang in the air welcome you to the studio.

You take your dress off the first thing you do when you get there and put on any clothes you can find in the dresser, a black T-shirt and worn-out jeans.

You put your earrings inside your purse and the pocket watch you collected earlier spills out of it, falling onto the couch.

You're intrigued to see inside the locket to get a hint on who the owner is, you're trying so hard to open it with the strength you have but it won't budge.

Exhausted from trying to open the antique-looking object, you give up and walk over to the sculpture you're working on. You put the pocket watch down on the table next to your carving tools, then pick up a chisel and a hammer.

For every hit of the hammer, you feel like unleashing something that makes you feel lighter and lighter and makes you hit the chisel harder and harder.

You eventually get exhausted and take a step back, leaning against the table while looking at the unshapen block of stone in front of you.

You grope around for a bottle of water and take a sip, putting it down as you wipe your mouth after. Your fingers nudge something as you place your hand on the table, it's the pocket watch blinking under the fluorescent light.

It seems to be calling for you, inviting you to try and uncover the mystery inside.

Looking at the small chisel next to it, you decide to give it another try by prying it open with the chisel. You slip the sharp end in the crack and use your strength to push it open only for the chisel to slide to the slide, cutting the side of your finger.

You drop the pocket watch as blood drops from the wound onto the table. It's not the first time you injured yourself, you know what to do. You go to the bathroom, wash your finger under the running water then grab your first aid kit from the drawer.

After tending to your small injury, you decide to not continue working when you're angry. You take another sip of water and lie down on the couch.

With the quiet that hangs in the room, you slowly drift into sleep.

SEVEN DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD.

The darkness greets you even though you have opened your eyes.

Pretty sure you kept one of the lights on when you went to sleep but it's all dark now in the room, you can't see anything but lights that shine through the cracks of the blinds.

You slowly get up from the couch to turn the light on, carefully walking to where the switch is, and once you flip it, lights flood the room.

The first thing you see is the pocket watch that is now open, you walk over to the table and pick it up to see inside that it's just a normal watch but it doesn't have numbers on it like all watches have.

You close it and see that your blood tainted the lid, this time, you can easily open it without a hassle.

"Hello!" A voice says.

Surprised to hear a voice coming from it, you drop it back onto the table. A moment later, you laugh it off, thinking that you misheard it considering that you just woke up from sleep.

With hesitancy, you pick the pocket watch again and look at it. Your thumb wipes the glass cover of the watch.

"Hi, Hello, I'm Minho. I'm a demon. You anointed this talisman with your blood so now we're bound together and—"

It speaks again and in response, you hurl it across the room until it hits the wall and drops onto the floor. You stand there, frozen on your feet, and wonder...

"Look, I've got a whole introductory speech here," the voice says again, coming from the part of the room where the pocket watch is.

For protection, you stand behind the open bathroom door and look at the pocket watch talking like a lunatic you are.

"We got to work together," it says.

You whimper hearing the voice again and you know that it's real, you're not making this up.

"Can you pick me up? Just pick me up. Come on, pick me up! Please?" It demands.

You take cautious steps to get to where the pocket watch lies on the floor.

"That's it, come on. Come on. I won't bite, I promise. Come on," it says as if it could see that you're coming to pick it up.

You swallow air and slowly bend down to pick it up from the floor, holding the pocket watch in your hand.

"As I was saying, you anointed the talisman and the rules are you've got to carry out three human sacrifices over the next seven days or else the world is going to end," it speaks again.

That's a lot of information to take in, not to mention that you're already having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that the pocket watch is talking to you.

"W-what?" You breathlessly say.

"If you want me to help you, you need to permit me entry."

Entry? That sounds like a bad idea. You just stand there and look at the pocket watch.

"Do you permit me entry? Yes or no?" It asks.

You shake your head and convince yourself that maybe it is not real.

"You have to say yes. Just say the word yes."

This is not real, you tell yourself out loud.

"Or let's do this, if you say yes, I'll... I'll stop, okay? I'll go away. You'll never hear from me again like this didn't happen." It persuades.

This is not real, this is not real, you chant in your head.

"Just say yes. Say it! Say it. Say it. Say it," it chants louder and it starts to fill your head, endlessly echoing.

You want it to stop so you impulsively say, "Yes."

The chants stop and the light flickers off, filling the room with darkness again. You whimper in fear as the pocket watch starts ticking in your hand.

You hear something deeply breathing a few feet from behind you. Curious, you spin around on your feet to see what it is, but you can't see it as it's lurking in the dark

However, you feel good about not being able to see it as fear creeping up inside you. You walk backward until you hit the wall behind you.

"Hey, come on, what's the matter?" The thing says as he takes a step forward, revealing his form to you.

The first thing you can make out the shape of that thing is two long horns on his head and two red eyes.

"All right. I lied about going away," he says in a deep, growling voice.

"My regular appearance is a bit too much for this realm."

He takes a step back and disappears in the dark. After a while, he takes another step to the front and has already taken a different shape. He looks normal now, as in looking like a human and not just any human, he looks like...

"I peered into your soul and apparently, this is a physical look you find appealing so..." he says with his arms spread out and a proud grin on his face.

"I don't know. Let me have a look!" He walks over to the mirror hung on the wall next to you.

He looks just like the sculpture you made, he has a sharp nose, chiseled jaws, and a hair color as intense as red roses go. You feel a mix of fear, awe, and confusion inside and it's getting overwhelming.

He leans close to the mirror and fixes his hair, "Wow!"

He seems impressed by how he looks, "Okay, isn't it what you want?" He turns to you.

Not getting an answer from you, he smiles, then says, "Uh... I mean, I can work with this."

You can only whimper with your mouth parted open, having a hard time wrapping your head around this situation. If it's happening or not, is he real or not, did you take your meds or not?

"You have to calm down so we can talk. Just talk to me!" Minho says, noticing that you're in a state of panic.

For a split second, you see his eyes flash like those belonging to feline creatures, gleaming like two marbles in the dark. You can feel cold sweat on your back as you slump down against the wall until you're sitting down on the floor.

He squats down in front of you and reaches for your head but you're quick to dodge away from it.

"You know, we have got to work together," he assures you.

It's not fair that he has a face that came from your imagination, it gives you a sense of familiarity that lures you to give in. However, you're not sure if you should be giving in to him.

You bang the back of your head to the wall, close your eyes, and repeatedly chant like it's a mantra, "You're not real. You're not real. You're not real."

But that is not enough to expel him. You open your eyes and still find him there. hand and a grin.

"Like I said, we have got to work together," he tells you again.

To give you the space to gather your thoughts, he walks around the studio while talking, "You marked the talisman. I don't make the rules."

With the lights turning back on, your eyes can easily follow his figure going around the room and looking at the sculpture you're working on.

His fingers slowly graze the rough surface of the carved stone and then he turns his head at you.

"Basically, we need to deliver three human sacrifices by next Friday or else it's..." he informs you again as if you haven't heard him the first time, "burning skies time."

You can feel anxiety rising inside you and your throat is closing up, making it harder for you to breathe.

"I sense you need convincing. Uh..." Minho walks up to you again and offers his hands to you.

You look at his hands for a moment before letting him help you to get up from the floor. You imagine your hands reaching for fragments of your imagination but instead of that, you feel his warm skin and firm grip as he hoists you up until you're standing on your feet.

If he's not real then how can you hold him?

He looks at you for a second to make sure you're okay then nods, "Let me show you how this will play out, alright? What will happen if we don't succeed," he says.

He walks to stand behind you and puts a hand in front of your eyes, "You ready?" He asks, his hot breath fans your neck as he speaks.

You're not sure what he's asking you to get ready for. You're not even sure if you're living the reality right now.

"Ready?" He asks again and once again his breath tickles your ear.

"3, 2, 1!"

As if you're being transported to another time and place, you open your eyes to see fire. It's the studio but it is on fire.

"This is what we're dealing with!" Minho says but you can't see him anywhere.

Fire is everywhere and you can feel the heat of it burning your skin and thick smoke filling your lungs that you start coughing, retching for air.

"Scorching wall of flame. It's agonizing death for all and so on," he continues.

You're flailing around to get air, walking to the window to open it only to find it hot to touch and you see that the whole city burns with you. You hear people screaming and sirens blaring everywhere but anywhere you look, it's just blazing fire.

You get away from the window until your back hits the table behind you and snaps you back to reality. Your head turns to the side and see Minho there, leaning against the table next to you.

"See, burning people they smell like... a burnt slice of meat on a griddle. It's better if you dissociate from it," he coyly says.

The images are so vivid that you feel the need to escape it, run away from here and so you do. You make a run to the door and he's already standing there next to it.

"If we're being honest, I don't want the apocalypse to come about any more than you do," he says.

You turn the knob and open it, running through the hall that leads to the exit door. Yet Minho is already there too.

"So let's stop it happening, you and me, mmh?" He says to you.

"All we have to do is deliver three sacrifices in seven days," he pops at the end of the hall.

You yank the door open and find him standing outside the door.

"It's only three killings," he says with a malicious laugh.

You rush to climb down the steps trying to escape what you know is like trying to get out of your head, it's inescapable.

"Animals don't count. You have to do humans," Minho informs at the base of the stairs.

You hurriedly unlock the iron gate and pull it open, running into the street in the middle of the night but of course, he's already there too.

"We can do like one kill a day but I'm good with one kill in two days and—"

You decide to go the other way from where Minho is standing and just aimlessly walking to avoid him. You know the neighborhood but not as good as when it's at night.

You walk down the stairs that lead to the riverbank, feeling more afraid of Minho instead of being mugged at night.

"That is fewer people than die falling off ladders in the same time period," Minho magically appears on the stairs, leaning against the railing.

"You'd be less lethal than a ladder," he adds with a sly smirk.

Your eyes are watery either from the cold wind or the anxiety taking over you. You sniffle before talking to him, "If I talk to you, you're real so I'm not going—"

You walk away before you can finish your sentence and walk along the riverbank, hugging yourself.

"Well, we started conversing already so that ship has sailed."

You can't believe that he's still following you when he knows exactly why you are trying to get away.

"No, it hasn't," you persist when you know he's right.

"Oh, oh yes it has," he talks back with a mocking tone.

You stop on your track and grunt in frustration, bending down to pick whatever is close to you.

Minho stops walking as well and says, "Don't worry. We're a team. I'm on your side, you know?"

He takes a step forward and keeps talking, ignoring that he's the reason why you're so frustrated.

"Let's just get kill number one under your belt, mmh?" He says in a softer tone.

You turn at him, your finger pointing right at his sharp nose and sternly tell him, "You can stop it because I am not killing anyone!"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and try to face him again, "You're not real so I don't why you keep talking to me," you snarl.

Minho coyly smiles at you and calmly responds, "That's what I'm here for. Moral support!"

He takes even a closer step to you and lowers his voice, "So, just hold on to that rock and hit someone with it!"

You get confused by what he said, "What rock?"

He eyes your hand on your side, "The one in your hand, love!" He answers.

You don't even realize you've been holding it until he pointed it out. The moment you know, you can feel its weight in your hand.

You gasp in surprise and glare at Minho, "I'm not doing what you say."

You hear footsteps coming from under the bridge and turn around to see a middle-aged man, "Are you alright, Miss?"

But Minho sees it as an opportunity, he stands and looms behind you, whispering evil things into your head.

"Mmmh... yeah," he hums in victory.

"He's perfect. No witnesses. Talk about beginner's luck," he whispers to you so close that it feels like he's living inside your head.

You feel his hand resting on your shoulder as he further persuades you, "Just one quick pop to the head and you're done."

For a second, you wanted to do what he said just so he could stop bothering you. However, the conscience in you is talking you out of it.

You walk toward the man and try to seek help from him, "Please, make him stop!" You say, gesturing to Minho who's standing right next to you.

The man looks confused by what you said and asks, "Make who stop?"

Disoriented by what's real or not, you keep looking back at Minho, then at the man, getting pushed to where you hit your limit.

The man walks up to you, feeling more concerned for you that he asks again, "Is everything alright?"

The relentless demon he is, Minho stands close next to you and whispers, "Would it help if I told you I can see into this man's soul and he absolutely deserves to die?"

This time you know it's his way to get what he wants, to get you to do the deed. You look away and hastily shout, "Shut up!"

Yet Minho keeps talking about the man as he's giving you a stare, one that you're way too familiar with, and convinces you that he thinks you're crazy.

"He has a wife and a daughter, you want to know what he does to them?" Minho's words hold intense hatred in them like you can feel the bitterness of it on your tongue.

You look at him to see if he's just tricking you to kill the man, "Don't trust me? Well, get a load of this!"

Minho covers your eyes with his hand again and this time, images of the man abusing his wife and daughter over and over again that you can't bear to watch anymore.

He snaps you back to reality again and says, "You'll save them both from years of pain, shame, and guilt."

Fueled by the rage from what you've seen through Minho's vision, you launch yourself at the man and hit him hard on the head, sending him tumbling to the side and into the river.

You stand there watching his body sinking into the water until the air stops bubbling to the surface of water and that's when you're certain that he's dead.

The man is dead.

Despite the shock, you manage to walk away while still carrying the rock in your hand, and once you realize you've been holding to it long enough. You throw it into the river then break into a run back to the studio.

You vomit everything into the toilet bowl once you're back in the studio, retching nothing but saliva and air.

Minho is standing at the doorway of the bathroom as he says, "It takes some used to but a couple more of that and I'll be out of your hair," he says.

You flush the toilet and sit on the bathroom floor, looking at him with teary eyes and the shock that hasn't left your body yet.

He pulls out the pocket watch and shows you that the Roman number written inside has gone one line, "See? One line has gone which means one sacrifice registered. Two to go."

You get up from the floor and drag yourself to the couch, feeling so drained by whatever has driven you to do unimaginable things, one that you thought you'd never done in your life.

Morning has passed but you can't find the energy to live for the day.

You're lying down on the couch watching the sky turn brighter with every hour passed. It hasn't sunk in yet what you did last night. It feels like a dream but at the same time, you can still feel the weight of the rock in your hand.

Minho has been quiet but you know he's lurking in the room and he decides to interfere by standing in front of you.

He tips his head to the side and asks, "How long are you going to stay like this?"

He then sits on the other end of the couch and says, "Well, you have to, at least, do whatever it is you do as a sculptor. You can't have people getting suspicious."

How come he takes it lightly? How did he get so calm after telling you to kill a man and watch you doing it?

"Fucking shut up!" You shout at him.

Talking to him makes everything unbearably real and it makes you recollect what happened last night. The guilt, the disgust you feel for yourself, the blood on your hands, you can see everything now under the daylight.

"I killed a man," you croak, saying it hurts that tears start to crawl out of you.

"I've killed someone," you meekly say with a tear rolling down from the corner of your eyes.

"Yeah, but that was hours ago," Minho nonchalantly says.

"I keep feeling the crack of his skull on the rock," you pause to sniffle and turn to look at Minho, "I did that."

But he wouldn't get what you feel because he's not a human in the first place. Minho is a demon.

"It's your fault. You're not even—" You stop talking because it's no use to talk to an entity that knows no compassion.

You brush your hair to the back and deeply sigh. Turning your head at Minho again to ask, "Why is this happening to me?"

You use the heel of your hand to press on your eye to stop crying, "I'm not a bad person."

"No, no, no," Minho quickly denies.

He moves to stand behind the couch and leans close to you, "It wouldn't work if you were. It has to be someone corruptible," he explains.

Your forehead wrinkles and forms a questioning look on your face, trying to make sense of what he said.

"If you think about it, what's happening here, it reflects really well on your character," he says with a smile.

What he said only assures you that you are a bad person. What you did is the reflection of what you truly are, a bad person.

You nod and wipe your wet cheek with the back of your hand. You get up to sit on the couch and grab your purse, rummaging inside to pull out your phone.

"What are you doing?" Minho asks with a panicked voice.

You dial the police line on your phone and show it to him, "Calling the police."

He jolts on his feet and sits next to you on the couch as you hit the call button.

"But why?" He asks.

You can hear the dialing tone ringing so close to your ear, "So they'll arrest me," you simply answer.

Minho nervously chuckles, "Then you won't be able to do the other sacrifices," he reminds you to rethink your choices.

"Good!" You shortly respond, trying to stay in your right mind this time.

"Then the Apocalypse will happen and billions will die. I know, I know, I get it. You don't want blood on your hand but if it saves billions..." He's babbling, desperately trying to stop you from turning yourself in.

The way he puts it that way, he makes you choose the lesser between the two evils.

"Hello, police department, may I help you?" The operator speaks on the phone.

Kill three people who deserve it or save billions of innocent people?

You find yourself hanging up the call and putting your phone away, once again failing to do the right thing.

"See? You're a good person!" Minho says as he exhales in relief.

To be honest, you don't know what's good or bad, right or wrong anymore. It's one big blur to you.

You feel frustrated once again, you feel like a failure but on the bigger picture, you're trying to stop the world from ending.

But can you really save everyone?

You can't wait to dwell on everything in the comfort of your apartment. Before you can do all that, you need to set boundaries with him. You face him and look him right in the eyes, "I have six days to kill two more so please, give me a break for now."

Minho gets quiet for a moment before nodding in agreement, "That's fair."

Feeling the need to wash yourself from whatever it is clinging to your body, you get a shower and take your meds to help you decompress while sitting on the end of your bed in your bathrobe.

"I don't know why you take those pills," Minho says as he enters your room.

You quietly sigh at him and say, "Can you at least give me a few minutes until it's working?"

"Want to wash it down with wine?" He offers, showing the bottle of red in his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't drink alcohol after taking antidepressants," you answer, not sure why bother answering him.

"That sucks!" He says and puts the wine bottle down on top of your dresser, "I was thinking we could celebrate our first kill."

You feel a little faint at the mention of the word kill and celebrate being put in one sentence. You climb onto the bed and pull your duvet, "I need to rest."

Minho appears at the end of your bed, looking down at you with his dark, wide eyes, "That's right. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Can you turn the lights out for me?"

"Certainly."

The room turns dark but you get a newfound comfort in it.

"Goodnight," Minho's voice caresses your ears like a spring breeze.

You don't want to get used to this but you feel inexplicably at ease that there's someone else with you in this vast emptiness.

"Goodnight, Minho."

SIX DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

You jolt awake to the sounds of your phone ringing on your bedside table and you know who it is without having to look at the contact name. Your fingers are tapping the phone screen as you squint your eyes to make sure you hit the accept call button.

"Yeah?" You ask as you put the phone on the side of your face while you're lying on your side with your eyes closed.

"You're still sleeping?" Kim asks, noticing the sleep in your voice.

"Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

"You know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Nine or ten?" You wildly guess by how badly you want to go back to sleep.

You hear her sighing from the other line of the call, "It's almost 2 in the afternoon," she says.

You force your eyes to open to check the time yourself and see that it is indeed two in the afternoon.

"Oh?" You innocently gasp.

Realizing that may piss her off, you hurried to shift the conversation elsewhere, "Yeah, uh... why are you calling again?"

You fear that she's going to be mad about you abruptly leaving the exhibition or worse if she knew about Nick. You hold your breath, anticipating her answer.

"Oh, yes, I have good news," she says with a smile that you can feel from your end of the line.

"You sold four sculptures, darling!" She squeals.

That's exciting news but you don't have it in you to participate in that excitement, yet you feel relieved you can properly breathe at ease.

"That's... That's great!" You meekly say while raking your hair to the back with your fingers.

"I've been calling you since yesterday, you know that?"

"Oh? I, uhm..." You take a moment to think of an answer.

Summoned a demon? Found out that you have seven days to the end of the world? Killed someone to stop it?

"I needed—"

"Never mind!" She rudely cuts you off, "Guessing from how tired you sounded, you must be going straight back to work, huh?"

The sculpture is still a chunk of unshapen stone but yeah, you worked on it just a bit. Well, a work is a work.

"Yeah, I-I did," you sputter your answer yet thankful that all of her guesses are off the mark.

"I'll come with the paperwork tomorrow. For now, you can rest now or work some more, knock yourself out," she says, couldn't care less about what you're doing now that you've made money and she got to feed on a few percent of it.

"Thanks, Kim!" You say, because it's better to always be on her good side.

"Oh, come on! We both working hard," she kindly refuses but you know she feels entitled to this.

"Let's have a dinner to celebrate," she suggests.

"Yeah, yeah," you half-heartedly answer.

"Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye!"

You don't even bother to say it back knowing that she'll hang up right after she said her bye. Since you've woken up already, you sit up on the bed and pull your knees up, hugging your feet as you gather your thoughts.

In your peripheral vision, you see a flash of red from the doorway of your room. You turn to look and see Minho standing with the side of his body leaning against the doorframe.

The all-black outfit he's wearing makes his honey skin glow and his hair look like a blazing fire under the sunlight. He smiles once he notices your eyes are on him.

"Morning, sunshine!" He sweetly greets you with a smile that is a little unsettling but a whole lot attractive.

He crosses his arms in front of him, exposing the veins coiling his forearms, "Oh, wait, it's way past noon," he says with a grin.

Looking at him only reminds you of the responsibility you're carrying on your shoulders: saving billions of people from being incinerated.

"Are you always like this or...?" Minho asks, breaking the silence that hung in the room as you think of the dire situation you're in.

Minho approaches you and stands at the end of the bed, "You can't stay in all day. We only have five and a half days left," he reminds you of the time-sensitive quest you're in.

The only way to save those billions is by killing three people. That's the only thing on the pro list, there are just too many cons, mainly on the killing part. The only good thing that comes out of it so far is that you only need to do two more killings.

God! What have you become?

"What should I do?" You hopelessly ask him even though it's a bad idea to ask a demon such a question.

"Just carry on as usual so the people around you don't get spooked," he answers.

It's you and him, him and you, there's no one else you can seek help from.

Minho is right. You can't just sit here and watch the day goes by or else the thing you've done would come to a waste.

You slowly scoot over to sit on the edge of the bed and rub the sleep of your eyes, not ready to face the day when you know you only have six days left to stop the end of the world.

"And while we're going on about the day we can decide who to kill next," Minho adds.

The devilish grin looks beautiful on his sculpted face but everything he says sending a chill down your spine.

"Oh, an old lady!" Minho exclaims as an elderly lady enters the elevator.

You silently watch as he scoots closer to her and smells her head, "She smells like... oh! She's sweet."

You silently groan in the corner watching what he's doing.

He places his hand on the lady's shoulder and says, "She can't stop thinking about the end though. She can't wait for it to come."

He looks at you with that wild grin plastered on his face, "You'd be doing her a favor."

You lightly shake your head at him to make him stop playing around the poor lady but he doesn't get the clues.

"She dreams of death. Even now—"

"Shut up!" You say through your gritted teeth.

The old lady turns to look at you, "What is it, my dear?"

You quickly put on a smile for her, "Oh, nothing," you politely say.

Minho walks up to stand next to you again and whispers in your ear, "Just do it. No one will miss her."

"Shut up!" You whisper back while throwing daggers with your eyes at him.

"She's nearly dead already!"

Thankfully, the elevator dings open and shoots his idea down as you step out of the elevator.

"We need to start to pick someone!" He persists as he follows you walking in the lobby.

Minho is such a nuisance.

It's hard to ignore him when he keeps talking, making remarks about everyone he sees, and constantly around you the whole time.

It's when you're working on your sculpture that you get to immerse yourself in your work and disassociate from reality.

All you hear is the slamming sound of your hammer on the chisel and pieces of stone falling onto the floor. Looking down at the mess you made, you spot one particular piece of stone lying close to your feet. You stare at it for too long you get the recollection of that night.

The weight of the rock in your hand, how you bashed someone's head with it, and the splashing sound of the man falling into the water, all of that vividly playing in the back of your head.

You stagger backward and drop your chisel onto the floor, the clattering sound echoing in the spacious studio.

"I've been meaning to tell you this," Minho appears from behind the sculpture, startling you.

"We should order food," he suggests.

You put away your hammer and take off your mask, walking to the mini fridge to get a bottle of water.

"You're a demon. You feed on..." You think for a moment to finish your sentence as you unscrew the cap of the bottle.

He snatches the flyer stuck to the fridge door and asks, "Pizza?"

You close the fridge and walk over to the couch, plopping yourself down before chugging some water into your system.

"You need to eat so you can—"

"Kill?" You finish his sentence.

Minho scrunches his nose and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you, "I was about to say think but yeah, that too," he says.

You untie your pinafore and throw it aside, he isn't wrong to say that you need to eat. What's the point of saving the world if you're going to die of starvation?

You let out a sigh and grab the flyer from his hand, typing the numbers on your phone screen.

"Cheese pizza, please? With a lot of pepperoni!"

How can you believe that he's a demon when his choice of pizza topping is like a toddler's?

"Good evening, Miss!" The concierge greets you as he sees you enter the door.

"Hi," you greet back, impatiently wanting to get back to your apartment to dwell on your fate again.

"Miss Kim came by and dropped something for you," he informs, taking out a big envelope from your mailing box.

There's a faint sound coming from the small TV tuned to a news broadcast when you come to the desk to collect it.

"Here it is, Miss," he slides the big brown envelope across the shiny surface of the desk. There's a note on top of it which you immediately recognize as Kim's.

You open to do a quick check on what's inside when you hear a glimpse of the news from the TV.

"...man found dead in the river has been identified as Ben Watson, a financial officer of a bank company, leaving a wife and a seven-year-old daughter who has been notified about his tragic death..."

You glance at the small screen and see the photograph of the man you killed that night. You can't possibly be wrong about this when you remember the horror on his face as you lifted the rock before swinging it hard to his head.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?" The concierge asks.

You snap yourself out of your daze and put the envelope close to your chest as if someone about to steal it from you.

"No, no," your voice is quivering in panic at the sight of the man you killed.

"Thank you," you abruptly the conversation with gratitude and walking fast to the elevator.

The warm water doesn't work to calm you down when you're tainted inside. You feel filthy, inside and out. You feel sick seeing your reflection in the mirror.

You've been holding your medicine in your hand but you need something stronger, you ditch the pill and run to the kitchen.

You pull out the wine you have in the kitchen cabinet and drink it straight from the bottle, chugging it like it's water. You gasp when you stop drinking, taking the bottle with you as you sit on the sofa while you're still in your bathrobe.

"This is how you're going to end the day?" Minho asks, taking the bottle of wine from you to take a sip.

"Can you stop talking about killing for just—" You choke on air as anger bubbles up inside you.

Minho holds his hands up in defeat and leans back on the sofa next to you, "I'm just saying..." he meekly says.

The silence only resides for a minute until he speaks again, "Look, the earlier you get it done—" he stops talking when you shoot him a glare.

You take the bottle of wine from him and take a long gulp, a drop of wine escapes the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

You aggressively wipe it with the sleeve of your bathrobe and recline on the sofa, looking out at the city lights that look like pinpricks in the dark of the night.

"I'm crazy..." you sadly remark.

Those words remind you of a sobering fact that what people think of you: crazy.

Ever since you were still an art student, people often found you talking to yourself in class, always in your little world with your imaginary friend. That leads you to this solitary life because normal people avoid crazy.

"People are right about me. I'm crazy," you state again, and saying it out loud makes your heart aches.

Minho turns his head and looks at you with his dark eyes that weirdly provide you warmth, "You're not crazy."

But why would a normal person kill a person because a demon told him to? You don't even know if he's real and not a product of your imagination.

"I'm a murderer..." you say with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.

He scoots closer until he sits close next to you, his shoulder bumps with yours on the big sofa that could fit five people. He looks at you and gently says, "Yeah, but not a crazy one."

Minho has a way of looking at bad things positively. You chuckle at the irony of his words. You can't tell if you should be happy that you're not crazy or sad that you're indeed a murderer.

He slumps down on the sofa to be on the same level as you, also turning his head to look at the view, "Want to know something?"

Instead of answering, you take a sip of the wine. You know he'll keep talking even if you refuse him.

"This is actually my first assignment," he shares.

He drops his hand on the space on the sofa, merely inches away from yours, "It's more of an initiation, sort of earning my wings."

You look at him and get a little taken aback by the proximity you can see yourself in his eyes. You almost forget what you were trying to say to him, "What are you trying to say?"

You look away because he looks exactly like the one you envisioned on your sculpture, divinely beautiful that it's hard to comprehend.

"I'm saying that I'm new to this too," he answers.

Again, you can't tell if you should be happy or sad to know that. Strangely though, you find comfort in his words.

You look at his hand splayed so close to yours and it evokes the curiosity in you that needs to be fed. You gently flip over his hand and gently slip your fingers on the spaces between his fingers, you can feel the warmth and the roughness of his finger pads on each finger.

Minho is real, he's real, you perpetually assure yourself.

You glance at him and he's looking at you, your eyes meet in a tender gaze.

"Are you real, Minho?"

You're aware of how much that question weighs. If the answer is no, you know the insurmountable pain you brought onto yourself.

He slowly blinks and you can see his dark lashes fanning out so beautifully. His crimson-red lips open and says, "I'm as real as you want me to be."

Words aren't enough to convince you. With the despair filling your heart, you lean in and innocently put your lips on his. It's a kiss that feels more than just a physical act, one that you didn't know you needed.

After getting the reassurance that you need, you pull away. However, the hand lingering on your jaw tells otherwise. He touches your face with just his fingertips yet it's enough to send a tingle inside.

Slowly, he leans in to kiss your closed eyelids ever so softly and before you know it, he brings your face closer to place a tender kiss on your lips.

And for the first time in your life, you feel the warmth no one has ever given you.

FIVE DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

"You wake up early!" Minho says as you dress up to get ready for the day.

You ignore his words, continue collecting your things around the room, and put them into your bag.

"Are you trying to match your clothes with me?" He says, looking at your all-black outfit while sitting on the headrest of the sofa.

This morning, you woke up on the sofa still in your bathrobe and a blanket covered your body. The first thing you remember is you kissed him last night and somehow, it convinces you to keep going with the quest.

However, you still feel conflicted with what you do. You need to make sure of one thing.

"How about this handsome fucker?" Minho asks, pointing to the other person riding the elevator with you.

The man looks indeed handsome, he dressed so impeccably when it's only ten in the morning. He catches you looking and smiles at you.

You politely smile back and look away only to face Minho who's standing on the other corner of the elevator.

"He'll be losing his hair at the age of 32 and spends the next 29 years taking it out on his wife," he whispers even though no one can hear him but you.

The taxi ride to the hospital only takes fifteen minutes and you know where to go right away from the array of flower arrangements outside the separate building from the main hospital.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I'm thinking?" Minho asks in a concerned voice.

You wish to be able to shut him up for a few minutes until you can find what you're looking for. The hall is packed with people in black attire to what you can safely assume are the guests of the mourning family on the two funeral services being held by two different families.

You read the sign that leads to the Watson family yet pretend to be the one visiting the other family. Before you can sneak into their funeral service, you see someone taking the daughter outside.

"This is a bad idea!" Minho panickly says.

It's kind of alarming to hear because it's the first time he sounded genuinely concerned. You follow where the little girl is being taken and turns out, she's being taken to the park outside, probably to avoid her feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not a relative. People will get suspicious of you!" Minho nervously whispers.

You come over to the two men chatting and kindly ask for a cigarette even though you don't smoke. You stand at the other side of the door and take a drag of the smoke to be seen convincing.

"I know you're worried..." Minho sighs.

He stands next to you with his head hovering close to your ear. He takes a breath before talking, "She's not in mourning. She's not not mourning," he says as you both quietly watch the girl sitting on the bench and drinking a juice box.

"Happy that it's finished but sad that he's dead. But it has finished!" He emphasizes the last word.

You take another drag and accidentally do it excessively, sending you into a coughing fit.

"You spared her another five years of it. A lifetime of therapy," Minho explains, "a lifetime!"

You look at him to see if he meant what he said. He's a demon after all, the vision he forced you to see could be misleading, a trick to make you do what he says.

He looks back at you and smiles, "She's a mom at 29. A nan at 57," he shares.

See? He knows how to comfort you even though you don't ask for it. You give up on pretending to smoke and stab the cigarette butts onto the big ashtray. You shove your hands into the pocket of your jacket and start walking away to the parking lot.

"Why are you telling me this?" You curiously ask.

He nonchalantly shrugs as he walks next to you, "I just thought you'd like to know."

"Did you see that?" Minho shouts as he leisurely watches TV with his feet up on the couch.

You pretend not to hear him and continue sculpting, hitting the hammer harder, louder to drown out his voice. As if he read your mind, he appears behind you and places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"You should see this!" He insists, steering your body and making you watch the TV.

It's a broadcast of night news about climate change and he magically changes the channel to show news about nuclear testing.

"It's manifesting. Do you understand?"

Minho keeps switching the channel to show you every bad there is happening in the world, everything that shows the sign that the world is close to ending.

You lightly shrug him off and say, "We got this kind of news a few years ago but—"

Minho holds you by the shoulders and shakes you awake, "This is real. We don't have much time and you're the only one who can stop it!" He reminds you of the harsh truth.

Somehow that only makes you question why you have to be the one to bear such responsibility. Billions of people on earth and they chose you?

"I'm not ready yet. I'm—"

"Don't you want to see that little girl live her peaceful future?" Minho asks.

This is where you know he's being the demon he is, using your weakness to his advantage and making you give in to the temptation.

It's not so much a temptation when you have no other options, it's killing or being engulfed in flames on Friday. You muster up your courage and think of something to do.

The first killing was what Minho said it was: a beginner's luck, the man happened to be there and an abusive bastard, even in his grave, he shall not rest in peace.

This time, you plan to do it meticulously and without mistakes. You walk to the kitchen and pull open the drawer, taking out a knife you occasionally use to cut your sandwiches.

Minho shakes his head in disapproval of your choice of weapon, "You're not a knife person," he concludes.

You look at him, demanding an explanation behind that haste conclusion.

"It's messy. You could hurt yourself," he explains.

That sounds right. You put the knife back into the drawer and look around the studio to find potential killing weapons.

Minho leans into your side and whispers, "Let's choose something that is more you!"

You look at him and see that he's eyeing the table full of your sculpting tools.

You pick up the medium chisel and show it to him to seek his approval. You meet another disapproval as he strongly shakes his head.

"It's too specific. They'll know it's you. You're the only sculptor living in the area," he gives you an insight into how the devil's mind works.

You must admit that he just saved you from making a mistake. You pick another weapon that you're familiar with but also gives you the upper hand to do the killing. You pick up the hammer and turn around to show him.

A smile rises on his face as he nods in approval, "That's you! You're a basher!"

You bring the hammer close and observe it, it feels good around your hand since it's a tool that you work with most of your life.

"You've had the practice now. It'll be easier this time," Minho says with a sinister smile.

You want to believe his words so much but the nerves get to you. Your breathing becomes erratic once you realize what you're going to do with the hammer.

Minho puts his hand on the small of your back and holds you steady, "Liquor courage! That's what you need! Booze!" He suggests.

"I don't keep any alcohol in the studio," you meekly say.

Considering that sculpting involves a lot of sharp objects, it's wise to not keep anything that would dull your focus.

"Also, I just took an antidepressant an hour ago," you inform him.

"Oh, shit!" He curses and leans his body to the back, against the table.

Minho crosses his arms in front of him, then rubs his chin as he thinks of something. He then leers at you with a smirk dancing on his face, "Well, do you want a drink?"

There's a bar a few blocks away from your studio.

You got here in need of liquid courage and there's plenty of them here. You plan to only consume enough alcohol just to calm the nerves but not too much to lose your focus.

It gets you anxious to step into a new environment. You decide to go straight to order drinks.

"Whiskey, please?" You say to the bartender with a handlebar mustache.

Bartenders tend to remember the faces they have seen and yours must not have registered into his memory bank. He puts away the cloth he's holding.

"You want ice with it?" He asks.

"I'll have it dry," you answer since you came here for the alcohol, not for refreshment.

"Easy, love. We have work to do," Minho reminds as he props a hand against the countertop.

Knowing that one drink wouldn't be enough and you don't want to bother the bartender again for a drink, you decide to double.

"Make that two, please!" You hurriedly say before the bartender starts making your order.

"You don't have to get one for me," Minho grins at you.

The bartender takes another glass with him to finally fill them with your choice of potion.

"I didn't," you whisper back at him.

You immediately pay for it and bring your drinks with you to the empty spot in the corner of the bar, hidden behind the pool table.

You slowly sip your drink and feel it running through your system, stripping a layer of senses off of you, making you less aware of your surroundings.

"Okay, you see anyone tasty?" Minho asks as he sits next to you.

He cranes his neck looking for the next human sacrifice among the people who are enjoying their concoctions. His finger points to the guy with a beanie and drinking a pint of beer.

"Oh, that one perfect!" He exclaims.

He stacks his hands on top of the table and leans forward as he further speaks, "Burglaries. Mostly target the elderly. What do you reckon?" He turns to you for opinions.

The alcohol is not quite there yet so you take a longer sip. You feel the alcohol burns your throat and you wince from the bitter aftertaste.

"No?" He asks as he looks at you.

You know he's asking about the human sacrifice, not the alcohol but the answer is the same, "No."

Minho moves on. His eyes are pacing around the room to study people and check their backgrounds with his evil power.

He taps your shoulder as he finds his next candidate, "See that girl with the pints?"

You can easily spot the girl with curly hair, carrying two pints of beer in her hands.

Minho leans in close to your ear to give his intel, "She went on holiday when she was 12 years old and saw her sister drown in a swimming pool."

He suddenly lowers his voice as he tells you the rest of the story, "She could have pulled her out but she just stood there and watched."

Maybe it's true that people are the scariest.

They may look ordinary and good and all yet inside, lies this darkness that they buried deep inside them. If Minho hadn't told you, you would have taken her as a pretty girl with a nice smile and nothing more.

Minho pulls at the sleeve of your shirt and points to another guy, talking to his friend by the pool table. You're about to wave him off again until the guy turns his head and you know who it is.

"How about him? He likes to secretly film girls by drug them and once he—"

"Sent a girl into overdose," you finish his sentence.

Everyone knows who Tim Shaw other than a student in our faculty and more importantly, people know what he likes to do to innocent girls yet no one dares to make him take responsibility for what he did.

Until one night, he drugged a girl and left her on the cold floor of a club, unconscious. There's no evidence that he drugged her or it was he drugged, ended up with him getting dropped off of all charges.

You have one more drink to finish and you gulp it in one go, wanting to use this opportunity to get back for what he did to that poor, innocent girl.

Minho triumphantly smiles, knowing that you have set a target on Tim's head.

"I think we have a contender," he concludes.

Tim is exiting the bar and you take it as an advantage.

You don't need to lure him out, you wait a minute before you follow him outside to not seem conspicuous. Once you're outside, you look side to side to see where Tim is going.

"Perfect location. No witnesses," Minho answers as you both find him turning to the back of the bar.

Tim seems to hear your rushed footsteps and turns around to see you. He seems to be taken aback and you doubt that he'll recognize you. Being crazy has its advantages, you're off the asshole's radar.

You nervously laugh as he looks at you. You quickly think of something to say, "Oh, my God! It's really you, Tim!" You say with fake enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry but who..." he gets all defensive.

"I'm—" You don't know how to explain yourself other than 'the insane one from art school'.

"Oh, wait, you're that girl, the sculptor, the... uh," he brakes before he can say the infamous title of yours.

"The freaky one?" You playfully say.

He bursts into laughter and nods, "Hey, don't get me wrong. I like freaky," he says.

Minho points to the carts of empty bottles and gestures for you to use them instead of the hammer inside your bag that weighs your shoulder the longer you're carrying it.

"I was just getting a drink but it doesn't feel good drinking alone," you lie even though that's how you prefer to enjoy your poison.

"Yeah, I bet," he says with a grin that showcases his whitened teeth and malicious intent.

"How about drinking at my place?" He offers.

"Home turf. Even better," Minho comments, appearing behind you.

You don't want to seem desperate to be with Tim because honestly, you're just stalling to find the perfect opportunity to kill him. It's time to put what you learned from Kim into practice.

"I, uhm..." you rub the back of your neck and shyly smile at him, "I don't think that's..."

As you pretend to consider his offer, he's secretly checking you out. His eyes travel up and down your body, you bet he thinks of lewd things even though you're dressed like a bible salesman with the same outfit you wore to the funeral service.

He takes a step forward and smiles at you, "I live not far from here. You can easily crawl back here if you think I'm a bad drinking partner," he seduces.

Tim must have thought you were as gullible as the other. Oh, he has no idea the surprise you have for him!

"If you don't mind, yeah," you say with a low giggle.

"Okay," he says with a triumphant smile.

His house is indeed only two blocks away from the bar and he keeps boasting about how he owns a house from his inheritance and the rising price of property these days.

"Please, come in!" He lets you into his house.

You step on a crumpled beer can as you enter the living room and are horrified at the amount of trash littering the place.

"A few friends and I watched a football match last night," he concisely explains.

He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack, "How about we drink in my room?"

You uneasily glance at Minho and he nods. You look back at Tim then put on a fake smile for him, "Yes."

He leads the way up the stairs and you follow him, climbing the steps with the hammer getting heavier and heavier inside your bag.

Tim turns around and sees you being hesitant, "There's no need to be shy now," he says with a lopsided grin.

You respond with a smile, keeping your head tilted up, and continue climbing up the stairs.

"Now!" Minho orders.

"Hit him with the hammer now!" He says again so close to your ear.

Your head snaps in his direction and hisses through your gritted teeth, "Shut the fuck up!"

Tim catches you talking and looks over his shoulder, "What's that?"

"Can't wait to see the bedroom!" You lie and add a giggle to sound convincing.

He smirks at you before pushing the door to his bedroom, "Come on in!"

His room is less messy than his living room in which he helplessly tries to make it seem tidy by flattening the pile of his duvet.

"You can sit down here," he says, patting the space next to him on the bed.

"You're not really going to have sex with him, are you?" Minho asks as he quietly watches you from across the bed.

A deadly glare is enough to answer him and he immediately refrains from pressuring you.

"I was just checking," he adds.

It's when you're in his bedroom that you start to fear Tim, not when you know what he is capable of. But at the same time, it fuels your hate fire, it reminds you of the reason why you need to eliminate scum like him.

"You keep your alcohol in your room?" You ask.

It's obvious that he took you here for different intention. He's taking you here for the sole reason that is to ruin your life.

"Oh, yeah, the drinks," he smacks his lips together and awkwardly paces in the room.

He reaches for the portable speaker on top of his dresser and turns it on, "You can wait for the drinks while listening to music," he says.

You nod, "That sounds nice!"

He gets out of his bedroom and heads back downstairs. While he's doing what you believe is spiking your drink with substance, you think of a plan on how you're going to kill him.

First, you take the hammer out of your bag and practice your swing. You get panicked with each second passed and haven't found a way to catch him off guard.

The footsteps on the stairs signal you that he's on his way here. You decide to do the classic way by hiding in the back of the door, planning to strike him from behind.

You see his figure entering the room, carrying two glasses of drinks in his hands, "It's your lucky day because I found a bottle of—"

Without thinking, you swing your hammer hard and hit him right on the side of the head. It's a weak blow and you can see that from how he's staggering backward, still conscious.

There's no turning back now that you have done it. You come charging at him, attacking him while he's still disoriented from the first blow.

He collapses onto the bed and not giving him time to recover, you keep hitting his head with the hammer with blood splattering the bed and wall with every swing of the hammer going onto his head.

You whimper as blood gets on your face and see that Tim is lying cold on the bed, dead. However, you land another blow just to make sure you've done it and leave no room for mistakes.

"You're good, you're good," Minho says from across the room.

That's when you stop and take a step back. It feels like your soul has left your body, you suddenly feel drained and the hammer drops onto the floor.

You look at the mess you made, the bloody mess and dead body, your life that is once far from all of it. Your throat suddenly closes up and you find it hard to breathe.

After a moment, Minho gets to your side to say, "You can't have that lying around," he's eyeing the bloody hammer lying on the floor.

With your mouth gaping for air, you bend down to pick it up and shove it back into your bag.

"Cleans anything you touched," Minho instructed.

You take a handkerchief from inside your jacket and use it to wipe surfaces you probably made contact with even though you're sure there aren't any.

You leave the bedroom after wiping the handle of the door and make a turn to the stairs when you hear the front door creak open.

You peek from the top of the stairs and someone is turning the lights in the kitchen.

"Get out before he sees you," Minho whispers.

It's bad when he needs to whisper like that even though no one can hear or see him, but you. The adrenaline is still pumping and you make the most of it by bracing yourself to make a run down the stairs and to the front door that is only a few meters away.

You take a deep breath before quietly descending the stairs without making any noise. You can feel your heart beating in your ear yet you keep going as the door is only a reach away.

You successfully land on the base of the stairs when your bag accidentally hits a flower pot, sending it breaking into pieces on the floor.

"Tim?" The man calls.

He looks at you with confusion drawn on his face, "Who are you?"

It's too late for you to break into a run as he sees your face and officially makes him an eyewitness. You can't leave an eyewitness, at least, not until you've done all three human sacrifices.

Is it necessary to kill him though?

You can think and consider as much as you want but it all comes down to the one question: kill or end the world?

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oleander-nin · 6 months

Note

Im not sure if you still take reqs so sorry if you dont but can you do yandere donnie with a reader thats really bad at taking care of themself? Like they’ll stay up until like 5am playing videogames and end up sleeping in so much they decide to skip breakfast and lunch then end up eating a snack instead of a real meal for dinner because its to much work

A/N, not important: Uhh, I think I may have done this wrong- I had an idea, but somehow this came out instead. If it's majorly not to your tastes, send the request again and I'll try again. Thank you sm to @lethelagoon for the title and for helping me with the fic! Also this is posted on the tenth and not the third because I posted smth on the first and decided I could just skip to this week. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: mention of feeding tube, descriptive, mentions of drugging, pills, needles, abuse, kidnapped reader, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 1357

Summary: Donnie comes home and finds out you broke his rules. Again.

“Do we need to go over your schedule again?” Donnie’s smooth voice sounds from behind me. I look towards him, shrinking down in fear. I set the console SHELLDON swore I was allowed to use down, racking my brain to try and find an excuse to get out of this. It had taken me three months to convince him I was fine being left alone, three months to convince him I wouldn’t break the schedule he created for me. Yet here I was, caught with the console on and his(or ours, as he liked to claim) bed unmade, the clock shining the traitorous numbers brightly. It was three in the morning, and Donnie had just returned from a mission, catching me in the act. I gulp. This was not going to go well.

“Well?” He asks, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. A scowl was on his face, signaling his distaste to the world. I chew on my cheek, opening my mouth and closing it over and over, trying to think of something to say. I didn’t want to be drugged again. I wouldn’t let him drug me again.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I say. It was a half-truth, which is better than a full lie. He can’t prove I wasn’t having trouble sleeping. Hopefully he won’t realize I never tried.

Donnie scoffs, a scowl set on his face. “Then you ask SHELLDON for sleep medicine. That is not an excuse and you know it. Gosh, you’re so- UGH!”

I cower back, my hands starting to shake as he paces around the room, his arms flailing as he continues to rant. I was going to be punished again, I was sure of it. Images of the isolation room and chains flashed through my mind, the slick taste of pills burning my throat. I couldn’t go through that again. I never wanted that to happen again.

Noticing my shaking, Donnie rolls his eyes and crosses the room in quick succession. He scoops me into his arms, holding me close while he continues to grumble under his breath. His arms were tense, the muscles more defined due to his anger. I couldn’t help the wave of panic coursing through my veins, my mouth going dry.

I brace myself for the sharp pinch of a needle, but it never comes. I glance at his face, his dark eyes boring into mine. He wasn’t pleased, that was certain, but I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t freaking out. Last time I did something like this, he stripped the room of anything I could mess with and kept me locked up for a month. I still remember the pills he brought in, every night at seven. I shudder at the thought, the feeling of my body shutting down and pulling me into an unwanted sleep.

He continues to stare at me, scanning my face slowly. He sighs in irritation, adjusting me in his arms before carrying me further into the room and setting me on the bed. He sits on the edge, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes his gear off slowly, letting each glove and padding fall to the floor. His steady hands were shaking in anger, his drawn eyebrows furrowed. My chest is tight in fear, knowing what was to come. The only wonder I had was why he was taking so long. I watch his face, trying to look past his eyes and learn what he was thinking. His silence was never good, a painful indicator of how ruthless he could be. Silence was a warning with Donnie, never a blessing.

“You didn’t listen.” He says, his voice tight. He’s not looking at me, his eyes trained on the floor. His hands squeeze the blanket of his bed, his green knuckles going white from the force. My blood runs cold and I desperately try to think of a way to fix this. He looks back over at me, his eyes narrowed and furious. “Why? Do you think I’m wrong? Do you not see the way I love you and want you to improve?”

I stay silent, unable to form a response. I didn’t know how to tell him the way he loved me was wrong in every way possible. I didn’t know how to tell him I still wanted, no needed, my escape from reality.

His eyes wash over me again, my body feeling heavier with each look he gave me. It was like every time he scanned my body, another layer of fear and shame was set on my shoulders. The room was getting smaller, my lungs struggling to take in air. My left hand crosses my chest and sits on my shoulder, my right digging painfully into my thigh. I couldn’t do this. I wanted to go home. I hate him, I hate him so much. I can’t do this, I can’t be near him. All he does is hurt, and take, and I can’t leave. I was going to die here, stuck under the sick obsession of a mutant turtle.

I feel his hand on my back and I try not to cry, panic and fear growing until I feel as if I would pop. I couldn’t live like this, not any longer. I look up, seeing the way his face had tensed. I could see his lips moving, but couldn’t hear the words. I feel my throat ache from the held back tears, my entire body thrumming in sync with my heart. It was too fast. His room was too dark.

“Breathe.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the order, my body conditioned to do as he says without question. His hand goes under my chin, gripping it firmly, but not harshly. He makes me look into his eyes, the same eyes that were unbothered as he locked me away for weeks. The same eyes that stared angrily as he shoved a feeding tube down my throat when I forgot to eat. A sob bubbles from my chest as I try to pull back, survival instinct kicking in. His grip on my chin grows tighter, his other arm looping around my back and holding me in place. He places his forehead against mine, his lips moving once more. I could feel the words around me, the vibrations in the air, but I couldn't hear them. I could understand what he was saying, but I didn’t know what he said.

I continue to cry involuntarily, the hand holding my chin shifting to cup my cheek so he can wipe the tears as they fall. It didn’t help, his thumb wasn’t fast enough to wash them all away. I sit like that for nearly twenty minutes, the world around me crashing down and landing on my chest. My vision swirls with each sob while Donnie continues to hold me and whisper useless, silent words.

My vision swims one last time before the room starts to come back into focus, a harsh ringing in my ears. Donnie’s face is inches from mine, his drawn eyebrows furrowed. I stare at them through my sniffles. I never noticed he didn’t take off his mask. I try to turn my head to look at the room, but his grip on my face is strong.

“Are you done?”

I blink at him, his thumb roughly swiping my cheek as a stray tear falls. I forgot how his voice sounded for a moment. I take a deep breath, nodding. I didn’t have any other way to tell him, and I doubted I would fall into another fit. His hands fall from my face and I lean my neck back, staring at the ceiling. I felt numb, like my tears washed away every emotion my body once held. I couldn’t tell if I felt free, or even more suffocated. It was surreal, having my body be able to go through such stress before falling back as if nothing had happened.

Donnie’s hands trail down me, as if he was afraid I’d fall apart if he let go. They loop around my waist, pulling me firmly into his lap before he shifts on the bed and falls backwards, keeping me on his chest. I don’t fight it this time, letting him press a kiss to the crown of my head while he slowly rubs my back.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen, love.” His voice is quiet, one hand leaving my back to take his mask off while the other holds me tight. I let my head fall, my cheek pressed uncomfortably against the hard of his plastron. I let my eyes close, too tired to fight him any longer. I feel his chest vibrate as a small chuckle can be heard from him. “There you go. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up so we can discuss your new schedule. This will never happen again.”

I feel my stomach churn at his words, but I do nothing more than hum in agreement. I couldn’t fight anymore, my energy zapped. I just hoped I could sleep in tomorrow. I would delay a talk with him forever if I could. I take another breath and sleep comes for me, dragging me down into the darkness of my mind.

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lu-dao-writes · 21 days

Text

— 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 (𝙈𝙝𝙞𝙣)

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 When being a brat gets you what you want and more~.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) AFAB!Mhin, bratty behavior, sub!Mhin, Dom!Reader, oral sex, fingering, squirting, dacryphilia, glove kink(?), hair pulling, ambiguous relationship. MINORS DNI

𝘼/𝙉 Deadass, this randomly hit me while I was watching someone play the demo and I was looking around for fanfiction 🤣👍🏼. I wanted to hurry and get it done before I suddenly lose interest, so I typed this up instead of letting myself go to sleep.

The only sounds that fill the room is the sounds of occasional sucking, your groans, the wet sounds of your gloved fingers thrusting in and out of a drenched cunt, and Mhin’s sinful little moans and whines they so badly try to keep quiet and to a minimum.

But it’s pointless.

You have them so incredibly wet and wound up like a coil ready to explode.

Mhin’s been so bratty as of lately and frankly it’s started to get on your nerves, until you realized it’s all because they’ve been feeling a little neglected.

So you’ve made it up to them by giving their pretty pussy some well needed attention, never letting up after each orgasm you’ve let them have.

Hell, you’re so generous that you’re letting them tug at your hair!

You pull your mouth away from their clit, a string of arousal and saliva clinging from the bright pink pearl and your lips.

You then give the hunter a wolfish little grin as your fingers continue to stimulate them lazily, their arousal further coating the silken gloves that protect them from you.

Mhin chokes and pants rapidly, their slim fingers tightening in your hair and their hole clenching greedily around nothing.

“Did you really have to throw a tantrum to get my attention? You’re almost as bad as Vere~,” you tease, laughing when Mhin yanks your hair harshly.

“D-Don’t fucking bring that bastard up!” they snap, glaring down weakly at you with tears clinging to their lashes. “Why the f-fuck are you even thinking about him right now!?”

“Temper, temper,” you coo, using your other hand to sharply smack their cunt as some punishment.

They sob out a moan and their body trembles harshly, making you grin wider.

“Be thankful I’m pampering you now,” you remind, pressing a kiss to their clit as an apology before slipping three fingers back in, relishing in the relieved moan Mhin makes.

You continue to kiss their clit, roughly fingering them and not letting them close their legs, and keeping them pinned down to the bed.

“I-I’m…! F-Fuck..! C-Cum..! I’m gonna cum..!”

“Go on, Sweetheart, I haven’t stopped you yet~,” you coo, adjusting your posture so that your sitting up slightly.

You rub tight circles on their clit and continue massaging their g-spot until Mhin finally cries out, your black gloves getting creamed on before becoming downright drenched suddenly.

The moment it happens you become even more excited, rapidly abusing their poor clit some more and making more fluid squirt out of them, getting the clear fluid all over on you, Mhin’s lower half, and the bed.

It starts out as small little streams before growing a bit stronger the harder you work your fingers. You become so determined to make them squirt more that soon your teasing it out of them with ease, Mhin squirting and drenching your face all the while as they’re sobbing loudly at this point from the overstimulation.

The taste is heavenly in your mouth, better than any drink you’ve had at any bar.

“C-Can’t..! Please, no more..!”

You hum and gently ease your fingers out of them, kissing their glistening folds, their public bone, stomach, and all the way up to their lips, cooing at their tear stained face.

Mhin fusses a little, feeling how drenched your face is, and when they’re able to actually focus on you, they blush brighter. No doubt they’ve now felt how wet the bed is.

“Did I..?”

“Mhm~. That was so hot,” you purr.

“S-Shut up,” they mutter, covering their face and ignoring your gentle laughter.

#•⋅⊰∙☽𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃☾∙⊱⋅•#touchstarved x reader #touchstarved game #touchstarved vn #red spring studios #touchstarved mhin #mhin #mhin x reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #vere

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thescarletwitchsapprentice · 2 years

Note

Yandere Mom!Wanda trying to kidnap Reader from another universe, because she misses her baby pleaseeee

I love that!

Baby Mine (Yandere Mom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader) (Potential MoM spoilers ahead! Read at your own discretion!)

*Not my GIF

Summary: Wanda had long accepted that she wouldn't be able to get her children back, yet she refused to accept having no one to love.

You had long accepted that you would always be the outcast of your family, yet you refused to accept that there was no hope.

What happens when she spies you whilst viewing other universes?

(CW: Potential ableism, (I'd like to make it autistic and non-autistic inclusive if I can. It could be read as the reader being autistic, having severe trauma, or both because quite a few trauma symptoms overlap with some autism symptoms) self-harm, abuse, yelling, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, MoM spoilers, (sorry, I forgot to put this as a content warning, please don’t hate me am fragile nugget)

Author's Note: Someone wrote a reply to my "Wanda's your next door neighbor" imagine that they "totally haven't reread it a concerning amount of times." And it makes me realize just how many of us use fanfics to fill the voids in our lives....(fuck, now I'm tearing up) So while yandere fics aren't usually supposed to be a good thing, I think taking the reader from an abusive family to give them the love they deserve may be the exception.

I'm also bringing in another character or two.

“Baby mine, don't you cry Baby mine, dry your eyes Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, baby of mine.”

Wanda wakes up in her little cabin, alone as always. Her face is stained with tear tracks. Billy and Tommy had appeared in her dreams again, and while she missed them terribly, she'd given up her search.

"Know that they'll be loved..."

She knows.....yet it doesn't fill the hole in her heart.

After spending some more time in bed, she gets up and gets dressed before making herself some tea with her breakfast. Everyday just seems to drag on now that she's resigned herself to this fate. And yet, there's still this little spark of hope that she may find something or someone to love, someone that she won't lose.

With that little spark of hope, she goes about her day until she decides to use some magic to view other universes. It's not necessarily dream-walking, it's more like just being an observer without leaving the universe you're in.

For some time, she comes up empty-handed. But suddenly, she spies....someone.

===========

"Ah!"

You cry out as your mother confronts you with your report card.

"What is this?" she snaps, practically punching it with her finger.

You look to see that B+ in Science, sticking out of the sea of As like a sore thumb.

"It's....it's a B+," you say.

"Yeah, a B+."

"It's.....it's still passing...." you defend weakly.

"It's barely passing!" she snaps. "You're not applying yourself. You need to stop being so lazy and actually try for once in your life!"

"But....but I--"

"SHUT UP!"

You wince as her voice punches your ear drums.

"I didn't raise you to be a lazy brat! Are you even studying?"

"I-I am....but I still don't understand--"

"I don't want to hear your excuses."

She huffs.

"I give you a roof over your head, clothes to wear, food to eat, and all I ask is for you to do well in school and help out around the house. I don't think that's too much to ask, but how do you repay me? By sitting on your ass all day doing fuck-all! Do you know how hard I work to raise you all by myself?! And where were you?! You didn't come home on the normal bus!"

"I-I was staying back to get help for Science," you reply meekly.

"Liar!" Your mother snaps. "You were out with some punks, weren't you?"

"No! I wasn't, I promise."

"Likely story."

Suddenly your mother pinches down on your ear and yanks you up to your room.

"Ungrateful, useless brat! Stop that whimpering or else I'll give you something to cry about."

She drags you to your bedroom and pushes you inside to the ground before throwing your backpack at you as well, hitting you in the back. The textbook corner in your backpack hammers on your spine and you wince.

"Stay in here and study, you stupid bitch."

She loudly slams the door shut before you hear a click. She's locked you in. After a few minutes, you sit up weakly and sit on your floor. The tears fall silently as you bite down on your arm.

"Every day...." you squeak as you rock on the floor. "Every day I hope for someone to take me away from this hell hole....I don't know how much longer I can take this....someone....please help me...."

=======================

Wanda's heart breaks and the tears fall down her face at the sight of you. A poor, sweet child who wants to love and be loved only for that wretched woman to degrade and abuse you. She doesn't deserve you. In that moment, Wanda's mind is made up. But unfortunately you're in another universe.

She'll need to call in some back-up. And she knows just who to summon.

=======================

America Chavez has her eyes on a fellow sorceress in Kamar Taj, distracting her from her studies. Her heart flutters at the girl's smile, her stomach fills with butterflies at the song that is her laugh. And this is the first time she's actually felt a bit shy, something completely new to her. She's never been shy.

But today's the day she's gonna talk to her.

"Okay, America," she whispers to herself. "You can do this. Just go up to her and start a conversation. It's not that complicated."

She takes a deep breath before approaching her.

"Um, hey," she says, trying her damnedest to push down her nerves. "I....I've seen you in lessons before and, uh, I'm-I'm America Chavez."

The girl smiles at America.

"Oh yeah, I've seen you too. I'm Titania Phillips, like the fairy queen in A Midsummer Night's Dream."

The two of them just stand there for a bit in silence.

"Say something, America!" her mind snaps at her. "You can do this."

"So, uh," she begins. "Do you like.....stuff?"

Titania giggles.

"Yes, I do in fact like stuff. What sort of stuff are you referring to?"

"Girls?"

It just....bursts out of America's mouth, causing her cheeks to turn scarlet.

"Oh, you're lesbian too?" Titania asks. "I thought it was just me."

"Score!" America squeals internally as she nods. "Okay, now just ask her if she wants to eat lunch or something."

"Umm...." Titania says. "You can stop nodding."

America realizes that she's become a human bobble head and grasps the sides of her head to stop herself.

"Sorry," she chuckles. "So, um, you maybe wanna get lunch or some--?"

Her words are cut off by a grip on her mind. A few seconds later, she finds herself in an unfamiliar house. Something closes behind her and she turns around just in time to see a star-shaped portal close completely.

"Seriously?!" she exclaims.

"America."

A voice hits her ears, one she hasn't heard in a while. She turns to see the last person she'd expect to see.

"W-Wanda?!" she exclaims. "I-I thought you---."

The Scarlet Witch chuckles bitterly.

"You really think it’d happen so easily?"

America blinks a bit.

"What even happened?" she asks. "I was trying to talk to a girl in Kamar Taj."

"And how was that going for you?" Wanda asks, almost knowingly.

"....I was dorky as hell," the teen lesbian mumbles under her breath, glancing down at the floor.

Hearing this Wanda giggles.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get more confident around her. Maybe she'll even be your first kiss."

"Okay, pushing my love life aside, how and why did you bring me here?"

"I had to take control of you for a moment, make you summon a portal to me."

"You...you're not gonna....are you?" America begins to panic.

"No, I'm not," Wanda assures her. "I brought you here in desperate need of your assistance."

"With....what?"

Wanda takes a deep breath.

"Follow me."

She takes America to her universe-viewing room and conjures up what she saw earlier.

"I found a child."

"I thought you gave up on finding the twins."

"I have," she confirms. "But this one's different. Take a look."

She replays the footage and America feels her heart break.

"Holy shit...." she gasps. "What kind of monster treats a kid like that?!"

"Apparently that child's mother. They're in another universe, though. That's where you come in. I need you to make a portal to their universe."

"You're taking them from their family?!"

Wanda nods.

"It's for the best. No child deserves that sort of barbaric and cruel treatment."

Hearing this, the teen is torn. On one hand, she saw how you were being treated, but on the other hand, that's your family. And yet she heard you say how it's an every day occurrence. She can only imagine how little you have to hang onto.

With this thought in mind, she nods.

"Okay, I'll help you. When should we go get them?"

"When it's nighttime in their universe," Wanda answers. "I'll need for you to just wait around a few hours."

"But...Titania..." she whimpers.

"You can talk to her all you like when this is over. Now would you like me to make you some tea?"

"Um....I'm good, thanks." America shivers at the memory.

"I'm really gonna need therapy for that."

=========

It's now 12 am in your universe and your eyes are stinging from all of the studying, but you're so scared that your mother is gonna burst into the room and yell at you some more. And yet....you feel like that's what you deserve.

You hear your stomach grumble and feel the immense ache. You didn't get dinner that evening. How could you when your momster locked you in your own bedroom?

"What's the point?" you sigh as you throw down your textbook, not realizing how loud it is. "I'm never gonna be good enough....I should just sleep on it."

You put on some worn and scratchy PJs and get ready to tuck yourself in your uncomfortable bed when you hear the click of the lock. You begin to panic as the door slams open loudly.

"What are you doing?!" Your mother snaps. "I didn't tell you you could stop studying."

"I need sleep," you tell her.

"Don't you dare talk back to me!"

"But--"

"I said don't talk back!"

You put your hands over your ears and begin rocking, scrunching your eyes shut. Not a moment later, your hands are yanked away from your ears and pinned down.

"Don't you dare ignore me! Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, you worthless mistake!"

Pinning down both hands with one, she raises her free hand, ready to smack you. You can't take this anymore and at that moment, you scream out in agony.

"SOMEBODY SAVE ME PLEASE!"

All of a sudden, your mom lets go of your hand and you hear her cry out before a loud bang reaches your ears. You open your eyes to see your mom on the floor with her back against the wall.

"Get your hands off of that child." A voice you don't recognize, one with an accent, growls at her.

Your mother is too stunned to speak. You look over to see a woman with red hair in a red and black outfit. Next to her is a girl with black hair wearing a denim jacket. The red-haired woman nods to the girl and the girl approaches you while the red-haired woman goes over to your mom.

"C'mon," she tells you. "We're here to get you out of here."

You're extremely hesitant, but the girl insists.

"We're not gonna hurt you, we promise."

All of a sudden, you hear your mother scream in fear. Looking over, you only just see her eyes glow red before she curls up in the fetal position in fear. The red-haired woman approaches you.

"It’s going to be alright, sweetie," she tells you. "We promise we won't hurt you."

You're still very hesitant and the red-haired woman sighs, as if she knew this was how you would react, but it's not in an impatient way. All of a sudden, a red wisp seems to emerge from her hand and enters through your ear. You see a brief flash of red before you fall asleep.

==============================

The first thing you notice when you come to is softness. Softness all around you.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself somewhere unfamiliar and you get a bit anxious.

"Hey, it's okay, sweetie."

You hear a gentle voice near you. Looking up, you see the red-haired woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. She’s now in casual clothes. You panic a bit.

"Please...don't hurt me..." you whimper.

"I would never hurt you," she assures you. "Never."

She reaches out her hand to you and you flinch.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she says to you softly.

“Are....are you gonna hit me?” you stammer.

“Never,” she tells you. “I promise I will never hit you.”

You’re silent for a bit, tentatively taking ahold of her hand after several minutes. She gently rubs the back of yours with her thumb.

“Where....where am I?” you ask.

“You’re in my house,” she tells you.

“How did I get here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“And why am I here?”

You hear her sigh again.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie,” she assures you. “It’s just, it’s difficult to explain without startling you. The important thing is that I brought you here because I heard your pleas to be taken away from that place. No child should ever be treated like that. You deserve love and kindness.”

“N-no I don’t.”

“....I know it’s difficult to believe considering how long the abuse has been happening for, but I promise it’s true. You deserve to be loved, and that’s why you’re here. I want to be your mother.”

You hear this and you’re in disbelief.

“H-huh? Is...is this a dream?” you ask.

She smiles softly.

“No, it’s not a dream. It’s very real, sweetie. I truly want to be your mother. I want to love you and take care of you.”

Your eyes begin to water.

“I....I don’t have to go back there, right?”

She shakes her head.

“No, never. This is your home now, you’ll always be loved here.”

You let a small squeak escape your throat and your lip quivers before you weep. You lean forward and hug your new mother.

“Thank you....” you cry, feeling a wave of relief. “Thank you....mom...”

It feels odd, and yet comforting, to say that.

She hugs you in return and rubs your back gently.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just let it out. It’s okay to cry,” she assures you. “I’m here. Mommy’s here.”

Her love for you grows the longer you two hug. It’s been so long since she’s had someone to care for, and now she has you. You’ve given her a reason to keep going, just by being with her. You truly are a sweet child, now her sweet child; so loving and kind and hopeful.

And Wanda wants nothing more than for you to stay that way.

See....what you don’t know is that you aren’t the only person/thing Wanda had America help retrieve. Unbeknownst to her, Wanda had her retrieve an extremely-powerful elixir; a single dose stops aging, assures complete immortality, and fully protects from all deadly diseases and injuries. She injected a dose into you while you were asleep before injecting herself with a dose.

Not only that, but she’s also placed a barrier around the island. Just enough for you to explore, but not stray so far from her. On top of that, she’s placed an enchantment on America and made sure to disguise it, in case Strange and Wong notice something’s up; it’s to summon her back in case she needs something for you. She’s not going to take her powers, no, but she still wants to make sure that she has what she needs to take care of you.

Yes, you; her precious child.

She won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.

All you’ll know is love from now on.

And no one will ever take you away from her.

She’s made certain of that....

“From your head to your toes (Baby mine) You're so sweet, goodness knows (Baby mine) You are so precious to me Cute as can be Baby of mine Baby mine Baby mine.”

#yandere wanda maximoff #yandere wanda maximoff x reader #yandere wanda maximoff x autistic!reader #america chavez #autistic reader #marvel yandere #avengers yandere #wanda maximoff #cw multiverse of madness spoilers

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cinnamonbear22 · 6 months

Text

chapter one: are you safe?

this is my first time using this platform to promote my writing. i usually post on wattpad, but mike schmidt and josh hutcherson is trending sm more on here <3 thank youuuu for giving this a shot :) this is going to be a longer series, but i was also thinking if this was successful to take request. thank you <33

tw: female reader, abuse

my eyes lazily scanned the television in front of me, not even taking in the words of the sitcom anymore, my body was just shutting down and getting ready to sleep. i gave into my body, and closed my eyes. the feeling of bliss and comfort ran through my body as my state finally seemed to be at peace.

right as i was about to drift, the door lock jingled, making me sit right back up on the couch. soon after, mike walked in, sighed as he closed the door softly behind him. "hey" he hummed as i began to stand up.

"hi" i rubbed my eyes and stretched my back, as i made my way towards the front door where my shoes were.

"everything go okay?" he didn't make eye contact with me as he moved to the kitchen to sit down.

"yeah" i yawned, slipping on one of my shoes.

"i'm sorry i can't pay you right now but possibly nex-"

"don't worry about it mike" i cut him off as i slipped my other shoe on. "seriously don't" i smiled lazily at him. "i like abby anyway, she's my only friend" i said in a sarcastic tone, but i myself wasn't sure if i was joking or not.

"okay" he pursed his lips and looked guiltily down at the table.

"i'll see you tonight" i opened the door to leave his house, instantly feeling the warmth and safety leave my body as i looked at my house across the street.

i lived a few houses down from mike. we were mutuals, we never said much to each other before his little sister ran away from his home, and fortunately she didn't get far because i caught her and brought her back to mike. that was how i ended up getting a babysitting gig, and a chance to leave my house.

i made my walk slow. i didn't want to enter my house. it didn't even feel like a home. but sooner or later, i couldn't drag it on much longer or he'd get suspicious.

i quietly walked up my porch steps, holding my breath as i slowly opened the front door. i slipped inside, quietly slipping off my shoes. i looked at my floor carefully to make my way to the living room, i knew which floorboards creaked and which ones were silent.

once i securely made it to my living room, i laid down carefully on the couch, making sure it wouldn't creak as well. after living with him for three years, i've gotten really good at being silent.

i felt myself breathe again, and i looked up at the same ceiling i've been staring at for the last few months i've been sleeping on the couch. my body was exhausted, and i let myself go into a nice slumber for a bit.

that was short lived.

"you didn't make breakfast yet?" we're the first words i heard when i was shaken awake.

"no i'm sorry i fell asleep" i sat up, my heart pounding instantly.

"why do you look so worked up baby?" he cooed at me, kissing the side of my head which had a bruise on it, and i tried not to cringe from the pain.

"bad dream" i stood up quickly and went to the kitchen as he trailed behind me. his footsteps just as loud as my pounding heart. i was so afraid. i pulled out the breakfast items we did have, and began cooking for him right away as he sat at the table.

i really didn't want any problems today so i tried moving as quickly as i could. i couldn't tell what mood he was in today.

once his food was made and his coffee was ready, i served him right away. my throat felt extremely tight as the plate hit the table in front of him, and he looked up at me with tempered eyes.

i stood there patiently like how he always like me to whenever he tries my food. i felt my sweat being drenched along every single area of my body. i tried not to look nervous but i believe it was obvious.

he shoveled some of the food into his mouth, eating fast but not looking satisfied. i already felt tears pricking at my eyes but i tried to stay strong. "this taste different" he mumbled, and my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. if i tried to run, it would be ten times worse.

"i did everything the same anthony" i smiled warmly, subconsciously backing away slowly.

"no, no, no," he laughed, it wasn't a good laugh, it was a laugh that i knew all too well. tears pooled at my waterline. "it's different." he stood up and his chair shot out from underneath him. at this point, i closed my eyes, preparing myself for anything. "you didn't follow the recipe.." he gritted nastily between his teeth as i felt his hand quickly go around my throat. i choked, opening up my eyes and looking at his frightful green eyes that had nothing but anger filled in them. he slammed me into the table as i gasped for air, my head was extremely light and i didn't know my surroundings very well anymore. my vision was blurry from lack of air and tears. before i knew it, i turned around and his fist was flying quickly at my face, and i had no reaction time or space to move.

my whole world went black. i couldn't see or hear anything for a few seconds as my whole body collapsed onto the floor. his footsteps trailed off and up the steps, my limp body was in shock of everything that just happened, but it was nothing new.

nothing new.

i cried hard on the kitchen floor. everything happened so fast, i felt like i had no time to counteract anything, but it wasn't anything different from a normal day to day experience.

i laid on the floor until he left for work, my body was taken over with fear and shock, unable to move while he was still here. i was scared to even breath. my head was throbbing against the cool tiled floor, but my heart began to beat faster as his footsteps came closer to me. "i see you later" his unsettlingly large hands caressed the back of my hair. "this wouldn't of happened if you messed up love" he whispered as he hovered over me.

"i'm sorry" i sniffled, unable to get any more words out.

"no worries" sweet venom dropped of his tongue as he spoke. he stood back up and headed for the door, slamming it behind him.

i gathered all my worth and courage to make myself stand up. i should just lay on the floor, for eternity. my life is not going to change. ever. it didn't change a year ago, it didn't change two years ago, it didn't change four years ago. i am stuck here forever.

i walked into the bathroom to see the damage that has been done. my neck had the beginning stages of new bruises of where he had choked me over the old ones faded ones, and my eye was extremely swollen and already changing color.

it was going to be difficult to try and hide my face now. anthony didn't let me buy makeup. he hasn't let me out of the house in years. the only time he lets me out is to babysit abby, because it is my only source of income as of now. he doesn't let me get s job, i have no money, so if i did leave him, i'd have absolutely nothing. that's why i didn't have a choice. i had no friends left, no family left, he had closed me off to everyone.

tears weld up in my eyes looking at my destroyed face, as well as the bruising along my neck. i have old bruises on my ribs, arms, and legs that had also lingered in pain. i took a deep breath to calm myself down since i started to overthink now. this wasn't as bad as i'm making it to be. people have much worse.

i walked to the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas and went to the couch where i slept, turned on the television and placed the frozen peas on my eye. it sent a nice cooling sensation on my face that felt extremely relieving.

i barley watched the t.v, and just soaked in my racing mind. i couldn't stop thinking, i tried focusing on the show in front of me, but i couldn't. i thought about running away. who would i even go to? who do i even talk to..? abby? mike? that's it?

i imagined what it would be like to run away to mikes house. me and michael haven't talked that much besides small interactions. he was a simple guy i guess, not much to say. but he was very sweet and welcoming, i feel like there's no bad bone in his body. i've always noticed how pale he is, how his eye bags were a distinguishing characteristic, how his hair isn't really tamed. he doesn't seem to try too hard with himself, but with his sister, he gives it his all, and that really defined him for me.

he was cute.

i always found him attractive. it was a guilty secret i had since i've been with anthony for so long. i believe i found him attractive because he's nice to me. i haven't been treated that great in four years, so when he did the bare minimum such as saying hello to me, asking how i was doing, my heart would flutter.

i would never tell him, but his house became such a safe spot for me. whenever he'd come home, i would always get a bit disappointed, because that means i have to go back to my home. sometimes, i'd imagine myself being with mike. would he ever hit me? i giggled out loud to myself at the thought. he barley speaks to me, he would not put his hands on me. i think he would be kind, and so sweet.

i found myself blushing underneath the cold peas, smiling at the thought of mike. after not being let out for four years, mike was the first person i talked to besides anthony. to me he was like an angel. it was like a breath of fresh air the first time we talked, there was so fear of being struck, there was only gentle words and small talk that gave me hope.

the smell of his house gives me relief. everything about it just feels homey. more of a home than i have ever received.

i then fell asleep due to the happy thoughts and daydreams i had for the next half hour.

i jumped awake to the sound of the phone ringing loudly against the wall. i rushed quickly to it, not even being fully awake. i picked it up in a panic, worried if i didn't answer it in time, he would he would be upset. "h-hello?" the words stumbled out of my mouth, since my brain wasn't fully functioning yet.

"hey, it's mike" michaels monotone voice comforted me over the phone. he didn't even have to say anything soothing.

"hey" i sighed in relief, licking my lips nervously.

"sorry for calling you so early but uhm..." mike paused as my heart was still trying to slow itself down. "you don't have to," he hesitated. "abby was wondering if you'd like to come early for dinner tonight?"

"oh.." i was sort of shocked by the question.

"like i said you don't have to, she just wanted me to ask.."

"no, no," i snapped out of the trance. "yeah i would like that" i replied. "i'll be over in five?"

"i'll see you then." he mumbled and hung up the phone.

i stood by the phone in shock for a second before turning up the steps to change my clothes. i haven't bought new clothes in years, all my clothes are old and don't fit, or just unappealing. i wasnt complaining though, because i still had clothes.

i pulled on a baggy pair of jeans that were two sizes too big. i grabbed a hoodie, making sure the hood could cover my neck. the swelling on my eye fortunately went down, but it was now purple. i'm not sure how to hide that. just using another cover up story about how i fell will work.

i slipped on my shoes and quickly walked out of the house before anthony got home to mikes house. my favorite time of day was the walk to mikes. my steps felt lighter, but it was also a game of trying not to be seen by anthony. anthony knows i go to mikes, but seeing him still worries me that he'll stop me and make me go back home.

before i knew it i arrived at the schmidt residence, and i freely knocked on the door. "coming..!" a muffled voice yelled, the footsteps were quick on the inside of the house. the door unlocked and quickly swung open to reveal mike, his hair messy and he was wearing jeans and a crewneck. "hey" he looked down at my shoes, then looked at my face, resulting in a slight gasp. "what happened?" his voice raised ever so faintly that i actually heard emotion in it... that was a first.

"i just fell" i quickly used my excuse that was repeated to him a few times before. his eyes were still wide as he examined me, his firm brown eyes frantically scanned my face.

"(y/n)..." he stepped outside, closing the front door behind him making me step back to let him out. "you've told me that five times, at least" his voice was stern, but low. i don't think he wanted abby to hear.

"i'm clumsy" i'm gave a fake grin, which he didn't budge at all.

"i know we do not talk, i don't know you much as a person, but are you safe?" he pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed as well, his eyes locked onto mine making me extremely intimidated. "i've seen the marks on your neck before, i've seen them on your wrist, every time i've asked it was the same excuse and it's not my business, but this has been going on since you started babysitting" he rambled for a second as i adjusted my hood. "you don't even have to fix your hood because i see the fingernail marks and ring around your neck" his hand quickly moved towards my hood to try and pull it back down, but i flinched subconsciously, closing my eyes and looking away, expecting a blow. "what is going on..?" he drew his hand back with a softer voice.

"i don't know why i thought you were going to hit me" my voice was shaky as i tried to laugh it off, but tears filled up my waterline. no one has ever asked me if i was okay. "that was just a weird reaction" i blinked rapidly to try and calm my wet eyes, and cover my tracks completely, but i don't know if that is an option anymore.

"stop" he held his hands up to show he meant no harm. "i don't know what you're going through okay" he slowly moved his hands in front of my face to reach my hood, and pulled it down softly so he could look at my neck. "but this is concerning." he looked at my neck and my face again. "you show up to my house with strangle marks and a black eye, are you safe?" he ask again, making it more thorough.

tears began to fall silently down my face as i tried my best to keep them in. "why are you concerned?" i whispered, unable to speak louder because my throat felt like it was closing up.

"i don't know" mike seemed confused now, still examining me as if i were a zoo animal. we stood in silence for a few moments, both of us unable to process everything that was happening. the silent moments of us looking at the ground and unable to look at each other became an extremely harsh tension.

a few minutes has passed and the familiar engine of anthony's car roared down the street. it wasn't loud, but it was loud to me. i knew exactly what it sounded like. "shit.." i sniffled and wiped my face. "i can't be seen outside please"

"why?" mike looked down the street at the car. i got closer to mike and tried to scoot around him and he didn't let me past him to the door.

"p-please" my lips trembled as my arm was stiff against his body, trying to move him out of the way. i've never touched him before. we were never this close before, but my body turned into a fight or flight mode as i tried pushing him out of the way of the door. "please he's coming closer i can hear it please" i begged, and mike then quickly let me in the door.

i quickly snuck past him as he stood outside, watching the car pass without blinking. "who was tha-"

"(y/n)!" abby's voice was loud as she jumped into my arms, mike didn't close the front door though, he was still standing outside, intensely watching the car pass.

"hi abby" i stroked her hair gently as her small arms wrapped around my hips. i looked back up at the door, and mike was finally now walking in.

"i helped make dinner" she smiled widely, i felt mikes eyes linger on us. "wait.." she paused, her little face filling with worry. "what happened to your face?" her small hands reached up and barley held my cheeks. she gently pulled down my face closer to hers, and stared. i know she didn't mean to do it. she was young, and when kids see something they aren't used to they will stare.

"i fell" i gave a fake smile, mike then walked to the kitchen to leave us be.

"oh.." she frowned, pushing some of my hair away from my forehead. "mike does this whenever i get hurt" she puckered her lips goofily and gave me a small kiss on my forehead.

i couldn't help but to smile, a real genuine smile. "thank you" i hugged her tightly and she giggled.

"are you hungry?" she grabbed my hands and pulled me into the kitchen where tomato sauce and pasta lingered in the air. "i'll make you a bowl" she moved quickly around the kitchen, acting as if mike wasn't in her way completely. "sit down, i'll make it" she said excitedly again, which i couldn't help but to smile. she stood on her tiptoes to try and reach a bowl in a cabinet. mike effortlessly grabbed it, handing it to her slowly. "i would've got it" she grumbled at him, but he didn't protest.

she messily scooped me a bowl, sauce was getting on the stovetop and some noodles spilled out of my bowl. she grabbed a fork before quickly turning around to serve me. i haven't been served in so long.

"thank you abby" i said warmly, my insides feeling like they've been lifted after the strange day. i watched michael carefully and cleanly scoop abby and himself portions as she grabbed drinks for everyone. i felt useless just sitting at the table not helping them serve.

they sat down at the table with me, abby right next to me and mike across. he set abby's bowl down in front of her as she grinned widely. we all began to eat, abby watched me intently as i took the first bite. "is it good?" she asked eagerly.

"amazing" i looked down at her and nodded. she smiled with spaghetti in her mouth, making me smile more.

abby talked a lot during our meal. it was good, because her talking so much didn't give me much room to think. mikes eyes were on me a lot during the dinner. every time we'd lock eyes, he'd look straight down at his bowl. i knew he was looking at my eye and my neck, it didn't make me feel too good.

once we were finished, abby ran to her room to avoid cleaning the kitchen and to draw. i helped mike since it was the most i could do. i washed the dishes and handed them to him for him to dry and put away. the silence was tense... the only sound to be heard was the dishes clanking in the sink as i washed them. "abby was really excited that you were coming" mike broke the silence with somewhat off topic subject.

"really?" i smiled, not looking at hin but the bubbly suds on my hands.

"yeah" he murmured as i handed him the last dish. i watched him as he dried and reached up in the higher cabinet that abby couldn't reach before.

"is there anything else i can do to help?" i looked around the clean kitchen, just double checking before i left to accompany abby. he shook his head no, both his hands were on the countertop as he looked down. he looked like he was contemplating something, but i'm not sure what.

i began to walk out of the kitchen, but quickly his voice stopped me in my tracks. "thank you" he mumbled, his lips were pursed and i felt my body melt as he looked at me.

"y-yeah" i hummed, and quickly continued walking to abby's room. i felt so dumb for stuttering, for even feeling an empty stomach whenever he talks to me. it was all stupid. i knocked softly on the wood door and let myself in. "hey" i smiled as she was sitting and coloring, nothing new.

"hi" her small voice filled my ears, making me smile more.

"whatcha makin?" i walked over to her desk and looked at her drawing.

"us" her full attention was on the paper, and my eyes began to examine it. from the figures on the paper, it looked like she had drawn herself holding my hand, mike on the other side of her, and a few bowls of pasta. it warmed my heart, i felt extremely fuzzy inside after looking at the picture.

but, that feeling was quickly removed from my body after i had seen the purple markings around my eye she made. i tried to not let it get to me, but it was, and it was getting to me hard. the more i looked at the drawing, the more i realized that on my character had marks all over it. even the ones i thought she'd never seen before.

i felt like my heart stopped pumping. my head felt extremely light and my insides felt empty. "can i sit on your bed?" i said gently, backing up and feeling the bed against the back of my legs. i sat down, feeling like i was unable to move.

she kept humming and drawing, the scratching of the pencils against the paper felt excruciatingly loud. everything hit me all at once, my feelings, my actions, my regret. seeing myself some someone else's perspective opened my eyes tremendously. i've never had another perspective besides anthony's, it was just what he thought and what was okay for him.

mike then barged in without even knocking, me and abby both looking at the sudden barging of the door. "i'm going to go sleep before work" mike mostly looked at abby and she nodded quietly. "if i'm not up by ten-thirty do you think you can wake me?" his tired eyes looked back at me, and all i could do was nod. "abs make sure you get to bed on time" he said before shutting abby's door.

i looked over at the small clock she had on her nightstand it was around eight o'clock. "how about bedtime in an hour and a half?" i suggested, which she complied nicely. she never gave me a fight. "do you want to get into the shower? after we can watch t.v." i offered, which she stood up quickly.

"okay" she giggled, setting down all of her supplies.

"i'll set pajamas out on your bed and i'll wait for you in the living room" i watched her run out of the room, and i heard the bathroom door swing open with a squeak.

i took my time getting up from abby's bed. although i wasn't laying down, i haven't sat in a bed in a long time. the mattress felt so cozy and inviting, but i was babysitting, and i was not about to lay in her bed. i went to her pajama drawer and pulled out a set of pajamas for her.

i walked into the living room where the television was leaving whatever was left on and sinking into the familiar couch. i wasn't used to mike being home when i was here. mike usually put abby to bed since he changed jobs, and i would come around eleven for him to go to work. his old job i used to babysit for him during the day, and once again, i never seen him besides a few minutes before he left and when he came home. i felt nervous with him in the house, i don't know why. mikes always been nice to me, i had no reason to be nervous.

i don't know if nervous was the right word. i had constant butterflies around him but not in a bad way. it was a good nervous. a type of nervous i haven't felt in years. i couldn't help but smile. i smiled at the warm feeling. the weird feeling. i felt like i was on the playground again with my school friends, giggling about a boy i thought was cute. did i have a crush? the good feelings left once again. i couldn't have a crush on him. i have a boyfriend. that's wrong in so many ways...

i felt myself frown, and focus back on the t.v. what else was there to do. i heard the shower shut off, and i knew abby would be joining me eventually.

after ten minutes, abby had finally got herself together and joined me on the couch. she beamed as she lifted up my arm and laid her head on my lap. she reminded me of my little sister. i haven't talked to her in years, but i do love reminiscing about the memories me and her had shared. we shared a bedroom which housed countless nights of giggles and secrets. we were extremely close despite the five year age difference. i protected her with my life, and i would do anything to see her again. "can we switch the channel?" abby said softly, pulling me out of my head.

"yes, yes of course" i reached for the remote on the side table and handed it to abby. she flipped through the channels mindlessly as i placed my hand on her damp hair, running my fingers in them.

she ended up turning in a cartoon, nuzzling her head against my thigh to get more comfortable. i draped a blanket against her, and not soon after her breaths became deeper. this is what we used to do before mike switched jobs, and i sort of missed it. "does your eye hurt..?" abby randomly spoke up.

"um..." i hummed, thinking about it. "not really" i spoke quietly, since i didn't want to wake up mike.

"mike seemed a bit worried" she giggled a little bit, instantly making my heat up. "he barley even talked!" she seemed to wake herself up now talking about her brother.

"doesn't he barley talk anyway..?" i furrowed my brows in a confused manner, instantly making abby laugh some more. her laugh ended up making me laugh, and i tried to quiet us down.

"he does talk" she pulled the blanket closer to her chin as i stroked her brown hair.

"not to me" i smiled down at her and she sleepily smiled back. "does he not like me?" i asked in a joking tone, but i sort of meant it.

"well, duh" she replied as if i were dumb.

"just asking" i acted defensive in a silly way, making her laugh.

"he might like like you" abby continued to giggle as she said the next sentence, making my whole body heat up.

"like like?" i gasped in an over-exaggerated way, but truly my cheeks were probably as red as her pajamas.

"don't tell him i told you," she began to whisper and look around as if he was here. "one time he asked me if you had a boyfriend" she covered her mouth and my heart dropped. my body froze, my hand stopped moving in her hair and my eyebrows shot up.

the good, nervous, fuzzy feeling came back. my head rushed with silly thoughts, as butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

once my sense came back i ended up giggling with her. "shh.." i shushed her nicely. "mike is sleeping" i smiled down at her and began to play with her hair again.

she continued with watching her cartoon as if she just didn't break the biggest news to me, and my mind kept pondering. i didn't pester abby no more about mike, since it was getting close to her bedtime.

twenty minutes later, abby was fast asleep in my lap. i looked over at the clock, and it was nine forty-six. i carefully scooted out from underneath her little head, and stood up. i stretched out my back, and prepared myself to carry her to her bed.

i bent down and scooped her carefully into my arms, i was used to her weight since this isn't the first time i've done this, but she was still a tiny bit heavy for me. i stabled myself once i fully stood up with her, and tried to quickly and quietly make it to her room without falling. i wasn't the strongest person, but i tried.

i lightly kicked open her door and quickly stepped to her bed. i set her down lightly, bringing the covers up to her chin and tucking her in ever so carefully to not wake her up. "goodnight abs" i whispered and lightly kissed the top of her head like how i used to with my sister.

#mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #fem reader #fanfic #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #josh #hutcherson #afton #abby schmidt

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writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 2 years

Text

You deserve the world (Christen Press x Reader)

TW: mentions of abuse, smut (18+ only)

Words: 2.5K

---

Christen was pushed against the wall in the meal room, as my tongue explored her mouth. No one was around yet so it didn't really matter what we were doing. When I heard the door open, I pulled away. Before I could step away, someone spoke up.

"Can't you guys just give it a rest? We get it, you love each other, but you don't have to rub it in, some of us don't have a relationship or get to be with our partners all the time." Mal said, annoyance clear in her voice.

I felt myself shut down instantly. Memories spiraling through my head as my throat felt like it was closing. I stumbled back, making Christen place her hand on my back to stop me falling, but I shook her off and ran out of the room. My heart was pounding in my ears, breathing seemed impossible, like the air was stuck in my throat, my vision seemed to blur as my eyes stung with tears. I didn't know where I was going, all I knew was I couldn't be in the hotel. Somehow, I ended up sitting behind a tree at the park down the road.

Christens POV

"What just happened?" Kelley asked breaking the awkward silence that fell after Y/n left.

Thinking about the pain and panic on Y/n's face, made my anger rise, "What the fuck Mal? That was way out of line."

"It's true though, you don't need to rub it in."

"There are thousands of people in this world who don't get to see their partners, it's life, it's how things happen sometimes, but why the hell should we have to hide our relationship because of it."

"You don't have to be touching or making out all the time."

"What, like you and Dansby don't do it all the time. At least we know when to stop."

"It's different."

"It's not and you know it. You have no idea how long it took for us to get to the point where she was comfortable with it. I swear if this sets her back..."

I trailed off before leaving to find Y/n. I hoped she would be in our room, but it was empty with no sign she had been there. She was having a panic attack which made me even more worried. I tried calling her, but Ali answered. Of course she would have left her phone.

She's not in our room Ali. I don't know where she is.

We'll find her, you look around the hotel, we'll search around outside the hotel. Call me if you find her.

Y/n POV

I had managed to get my panic attack under control and was just sitting against the tree staring into space. Someone stopped in front of me, but I didn't pay them any attention.

"Oh Y/n, thank god. Are you okay?" It was Ali. I didn't say anything, just nodded. "Okay, that's a good sign, but I call bullshit. What Mal said, it's not what we think Y/n, sure it's a little gross sometimes, but we like seeing you happy. Don't listen to her."

"Thank you Ali," I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself and rocking slightly to keep myself calm.

Ali went to hug me, but changed her mind. I guess she remembered that being touched during or after a panic attack will likely set me off again, "Do you want to talk about why you reacted the way you did?"

"Um, before Chris as you know I was in a relationship with someone who wasn't the best. The relationship was worse than anyone ever knew, except Chris. Beside what you know, the only time they ever touched me in a non abusive way was when we were in public or when they wanted to get off. Otherwise it was them ignoring me. I was constantly told that I didn't deserve it and if I asked, well there were consequences. A lot of it was how she said it, it sent me back. Christen helped me get back to being okay with physical touch, then understanding that I was deserving of love in the form of physical affection. That there was nothing wrong with wanting to touch her or kiss her just for the hell of it. It took a long time. It made me remember that feeling again."

"I'm sorry Y/n. Don't listen to Mal, if that's how you choose to express your love then that's your choice. Don't let this set you back. There is nothing wrong with you two being all over each other. You deserve love, you deserve the world, you deserve Chris. That girl loves you so much Y/n, let her love you like you deserve. Although, you could hold off a bit around us. You're like my sister, somethings I don't need to see."

I laughed slightly, "That's fair, thank you Ali. Love you."

"Love you too kiddo."

"You do remember I'm 27 right?"

"You're still younger then me so therefore I get to call you kiddo. Now are you ready to head back? Chris is really worried about you."

I lent against her, "I just need a few minutes."

After getting myself together, we made our way back to the hotel. Christen was pacing in the lobby, looking very anxious. She stopped when she saw me, but stayed where she was, waiting for me to approach her. I gave her a quick hug before moving back.

"You okay baby?"

I nodded and dodged her kiss without thinking about it. A flash of hurt appeared before being replaced by understanding. She cupped my cheek, running her thumb over it as I lent into her touch. After a few seconds, Christen lent forward connecting our lips in a soft kiss. There was an urge to pull away, but I did my best to fight it. Internally repeating that Christen did nothing wrong and that there was nothing wrong with kissing her. Eventually, the urge to pull away got too strong and I pulled away abruptly.

Christen laughed lightly, "What? Do I smell or something?"

"You smell amazing as always. I'm sorry my love."

"I get it, but don't let this change things. We've made so much progress." When I looked away, Christen gently guided me back to looking at her, "You're allowed to kiss me, touch me, hug me. You deserve attention, you deserve love and affection. I want to give you kisses, hugs, love. I want to give you everything Y/n. Don't listen to Mal okay? She has no say in how we act with each other."

After a few seconds, I pulled Christen into a proper hug this time, "Ali said the same thing. Minus the kissing and stuff obviously."

She laughed again, this time more genuine, "She better not have. You're mine Y/n, my person, my everything. I love you."

I kissed her with as much love and passion as I could, pulling her as close to me as possible. It didn't feel close enough. Ali slapped my shoulder, making us pull apart, she rolled her eyes with a smile, "Break it up you two. You going to come eat?"

Mal was over by the meal room, when I saw her, I stepped closer to Christen. Christen wrapped her arm around me, glancing at Mal before turning back to Ali, "We're just going to order something to the room. See you tomorrow Ali."

Ali looked over at Mal with a sigh, "Night guys."

As soon as the door shut, I pushed Christen against it, connecting our lips. Christen pulled away when I went to slip her shirt off, "Y/n, we don't have to do this."

"I know that Chris. When we were in the lobby before, I had you up against me as much as possible, but it didn't feel like you were close enough. I need you closer. I need this, I want this, I want you."

Christen pulled me back into her, kissing me with more passion then before. I slipped her shirt off, before leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. Her pants were next followed by her underwear, then we were stumbling over to the bed. Christen knelt on the bed in front of me with her hands on her knees like she had many times before, "What do you want me to do?"

I held my hand out to her which she took after a few seconds, I guided her so she was up on her knees at my height rather than leaning back on them. I wrapped my arms around her as her arms went around my shoulders "Not tonight. I just want to be with you tonight Chris."

She kissed me softly before nuzzling my neck and leaving light kisses, "I love you Y/n."

"And I love you Chris."

After removing her bra, I pushed her back on the bed, nipping and sucking until I made it to her bare chest. Her back arched when as I started kneading one of her breast and taking her other into my mouth. The quiet moans she let out were like music to my ears, they drove me crazy, but I wasn't going to rush. I wanted to take my time, make her feel loved and just be close to her. I took my time on her chest, leaving marks and slowly working her up. "Pl-please Y/n, I n-need more."

Our lips connected as my fingers ran through her soaked folds. I was pulled closer as Christen gasped into my mouth, moving her hips to try get more friction. Christens shaky hands slowly worked on my shirt buttons, as I slowly circled her clit, "Fuck Y/n. Too many clothes."

My bra quickly followed my shirt then Christen got started on my pants and underwear. She froze seeing the bulge in my underwear. Her eyes widened as she pulled them down slowly, revealing the strap-on I was wearing and had been wearing most of the day. Honestly, I had forgotten about it.

"Y-you're wearing-"

"I had a plan this morning, we don't have to use it now." We had used toys before but not a strap-on yet, it had been talked about before, but I was planning on surprising her with it today.

Christen stopped my hand from undoing the harness, "No, I want to try it."

Two fingers slipped into her easily, making her moan loudly, I took my time working her up. Slowly speeding up until incoherent sounds were falling uncontrollably. Nails scratched my back, leaving a stinging sensation that I ignored. All my focus was on making her fall over the edge. I added a third finger before speeding up slightly. Her walls clenched slightly around my fingers, telling me she was close. Normally when we were in hotels, I would drown her moans by kissing her, but Mal was in the room next to us and I wanted to be petty, so I left Christen moaning loudly. A few thrusts later, Christen came hard. Arms gripped me tightly, nails dug into my back as she moaned my name over and over.

Once Christen recovered, I shifted us so I was against the headboard and Christen was hovering over the tip of the strap on, "Are you ready baby?"

She nodded quickly, lacing one of her hands with mine. It was obvious she was nervous, so I squeezed her hand as I slowly guided her down, stopping once I got to the end to give her time to adjust. Her eyes watered, I lent forward to connect our lips in a lingering kiss, "I got you baby, just relax, you are doing so good. Tell me when you're ready or if you want to stop."

Christen squeezed my hand with a small smile, "Needa minute." My lips found her chest again, as her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling slightly, "I'm ready."

I thrusted up slowly, in return Christen hissed quietly. I was going to stop, but Christen quickly shook her head, "I'm okay. Keep going please."

My arms wrapped around her, kissing her as I thrust slowly. It took a few minutes until moans were falling from her mouth and she met my thrusts. I sped up slowly, watching her for any signs she wasn't okay. Her head hit my shoulder, hips meeting every thrust harder and breathing speeding up, "F-faster, fuck Y/n, please."

I flipped us over so Christen was on her back, as I thrust harder and faster. Christens legs wrapped around my lower back, her head thrown back as she gripped the sheets. I knew her body language enough to know she was close. I felt pressure grow in my own stomach, the strap rubbing against my clit with each thrust. My hand slid between us, finding her clit. A few seconds later, Christen came harder than before, heels digging into my back as she shook, crying out my name again. I slowed down a bit, but didn't stop. My own orgasm fast approaching. Christen knew me better then I knew myself so when she finally looked back at me, she started rocking her hips. That was enough to throw me over the edge, her movements not stopping until I relaxed on top of her.

Christen giggled once her breathing settled, "I like this one."

"Me too," I replied, moving slowly inside of her again. She tried to squirm away, "Too much?"

"N-no, just sensitive. Don't stop, make me take it, I want it."

I smirked, starting out slow again, until Christen was whimpering desperately and I suddenly sped up. Thrusting hard and fast, holding her down as she tried to get away while begging me to stop. I knew she didn't actually want me to so I just thrust harder, Christen held onto me as if her life depended on it. It didn't take long for her to fall over the edge again. Once Christen came down from her high, she pushed me away slightly, "I-I ca-can't."

I pulled out slowly, taking off the harness and discarding it on the floor to clean later. Christen cuddled up against me as I placed a kiss on her forehead, "I love you Chris, so much."

Christen wiped the tears that fell down my cheeks, "I love you too Y/n, don't cry baby. What's wrong?"

"Just left over emotions I guess. I'm okay love. This is what I needed. To feel this close to you, this loved by you."

"Y/n, you don't even know how much I love you. I can tell you and show you, but you'll never really know just how much."

"Ditto."

She straddled me with a smirk, "We're not done yet."

---

Christen was hungry. Unfortunately by time we finished, room service was closed so I had order food for delivery. Mal was heading out of her room as I was walking past to meet the delivery guy. She instantly turned a dark shade of red when she saw me. I knew she would be the only one in the room as we were rooming alone this camp, with the exception of couples, "I bet Dansby has never made you scream like that." I said casually walking past her.

"Y/n, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to hear it tonight Mal. I just want to get my food and go back to my girlfriend."

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #woso imagines #christen press x reader #christen press/reader #woso x reader

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mingos · 26 days

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oof. so… hello.

i know i’m not obligated to explain my absences, but i figured i should anyway because this is actually a long-standing issue i've been dealing with that, god fucking willing, doesn't happen againーbut that is what i told myself three weeks ago before it happened again. basically, because it can sometimes be so common, kinda just want to give a heads up if i ever start acting weird or distant because apparently i've upset some people i didn't mean to.

that stresses me out because, as i've mentioned before, i kind of have this tendency to shut down completely during stressful situations and not speak to anybody, which eventually turns into friends dropping me for a perceived lack of interest (not their fault, my fault). i'm actively trying to break that habit & be okay with vulnerability, so i want to be honest about where i've been and where i could potentially go in the future if this shit happens againーin a few weeks, in a few months, tomorrow... it all just depends, it's not a situation i can control. i'm not trying to ignore people. i just deal with a lot sometimes.

content warnings immediately below the cut but idk maybe just don’t read this if you’re in a bad headspace, or a really good headspace that you don't want ruined. no one should read this, actually. just jump to the last two paragraphs. this is just me explaining i'll hopefully feel okay enough to be back by the weekend.

cw: alcoholism; cw: domestic abuse; cw: gen. bad mental health

　i currently live in a dysfunctional situation with an alcoholic & addict family member as the last person in our family yet to distance themselves/cut them off. reason being is they relapse a lot. like, “an average of at least once every 2-4 months since i was 14” a lot. this is a long-standing problem. they’ve been through quite literally every treatment plan imaginable and nothing has stuck.

i do love this person; the majority of the time they're not relapsing, they’re kind & loving. when it’s good, it’s good. but when it’s bad jesus christ… i gotta level with you and say i've feared for my life a couple times.

they become angry & spiteful when drunk and, as of the last few years, physical. mostly when i try to confiscate things i find because i'm "stealing their property" and it’s therefore, to their drunk mind, justifiable. this is a mindset i’m still trying to unlearn because of course i don’t deserve it—taking a wine bottle away from an alcoholic for their own good isn’t justification for them almost suffocating you in an attempt to get it back, or breaking the lock on your bedroom door—but it’s hard to internalize that sometimes when your brain is beaten down, y’know?

when not being guilted into silence so i don’t “ruin their life more” or get threatened with being removed from the house by police, i’ve pretty much exhausted any sympathy or help i get from the rest of my family. half of them either have my # blocked or don’t answer under the weird assumption my family member is going to… use my phone to contact them? which is something that’s never happened before. the other half kind of just shrug because i’m choosing to say here and am an adult with the ability to leave whenever i want, just like they did.

　but i can’t leave—because, like i said, it’s just me now. no one else checks on this person, no one else lives with us, and i’ve already had to call 911 for them multiple times. living with them during a relapse is hell but so is whenever i have to leave the house because if something happens to them or their dog that suddenly becomes my fault. basically, whenever these episodes happen it’s just several days (or weeks) of nonstop stress. but there's nothing else i can really do. i just have to put up with it & ride it out.

　things have finally calmed down again; apologies were made, talks were had, we cleaned out their stash together... i finally have some breathing room. kind of. i still have no energy to do anything because i've just been in survival mode the last week (& also sick), so hopefully i can be back to writing by this weekend but i really don't know. i'm still paranoid something bad is going to happen so maybe i'm not out of that mindset just yetーi need to decompress a little before i can feel normal again.

thank you for your patience, and for those who have checked on me & especially those who were understanding it was kind of hard for me to have the energy to talk outside of my one or two comfort people. i miss you all very many and hope nothing more for you all to be loved, warm & safe. love you all very many.

#‘ 001. ’ (out of character)#❛ 'what am i going to queue with law'? ❜ (queue)#will probably delete this eventually because this is honestly a level of Being Perceived that makes me uncomfortable because i feel patheti #but i've met at least two other people in similar situations to me so if there's anybody else out there i see you & love you.

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Something foreign

*A/n~ feel free to request any prompts and I'll try to bring them to life enjoy this one this prompt is a little close to home for me so I hope I can do it some justice

Tw~ past abusive relationship*

Prompt ~ reader has had a bad relationship before moving to teach at nevermore. Larissa and reader are attracted to each other but reader is scared of the past repeating itself. Comforting Larissa

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You'll never allow yourself to be like that again. You can't be back to the shell you were. Yet here you am. Stood in front your boss's office door knowing you've got those kind of feelings for the goddess that she is. You could feel your hands trembling as you gently knock on her door and enter without waiting for the reply. She knew you was coming. After all it had become a nightly occurrence these days. At first it started as welcoming you to Nevermore. Noting your shy and reserved demeanour, you just assumed Larissa wanted to ensure her staff were okay. Never did you think it could be anymore than that. Now months later sitting on her sofa with a glass of wine it was all different. You couldn't let this happen again. You knew barely survived the first time. But the feelings raging in you for the principle seem to grow stronger every second of every day.

"Darling? I thought I'd lost you there for a second" her soft gentle voice was what broke your thoughts unknowingly stopping you going down a painful rabbit hole of path of remembering everything you'd been through.

"Oh I'm sorry Larissa. I seem to be in my own world tonight" you whispered remembering she'd asked me call her Larissa while in the privacy of her office.

"Away with the fairies then dear? Penny for your thoughts? She replied with a tone soft and curious.

An involuntary shiver ran over your body as you felt the colour draining from your face. Of course this would come up at some point. Although you've never confessed your feelings to Larissa you knew she was starting to grow concerned over your odd actions. There was only so many excuses you could use. Sighing slightly you turned to look at the flames of the lit fire. It was time as they seemingly were dancing together in the most peaceful pattern. The orange glow created was casted around the room aiding the relaxing feeling you often felt in this room. With her.

"Before I arrived at Nevermore, I lived in a small town not too far from Jericho. While there I had a relationship well if you can call it that, It was 3 years long and I - it's sorry this is hard to talk about I'm not sure if I can-" you started trailing off words fading as your mind transported you back to your own personal hell.

Soft hands held on to my shaking ones, gently squeezing once retrieving your mind back to the present. "You don't have to tell me sweetheart it's okay. But I'm here to listen okay?"

With a small nod and a deep breath I continue " It wasn't a good relationship to say the least. It changed me for the worst. I use to be confident in my abilities and myself. She changed that. She tore me down into this shell that was so easily broken. 8 lost everyone including myself. Of course it started off fine but it happened so slowly I didn't see the signs. God I was so stupid. Some of the things that happened to me with her it's just all too much. " Tears escaped my eyes that are screwed shut as the onslaught of memories from the past played through your brain on a loop. "When I left and moved here it was a safe heaven of sorts for me. I had to rebuild who I am or was. I had no intention of falling for anyone. It would hurt too much to go back to that. But then there was you. I feel things for you that are so strong they terrify me. You could destroy me with the power you hold over me. Not just because your my boss. If I lost you ... I don't know what I'd do."

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. what about me darling?"

"I- Larissa i have feelings for you- romantic ones... It terrifies me. I don't even know if your gay! But I can't ignore my feelings anymore they are too strong. I'm terrified I can't go back to a relationship like that. And it's not that I think you would... because I don't Rissa oh shit i Larissa I'm sorry I just it slipped out but I god this is hard. You're so kind and gentle and the passion you have for Nevermore warms my heart. You're absolutely breathtaking and I know you'd never hurt me in the ways she did but I'm so scared." A sob following your rushed statement as you begin process what you've just done. You had let your guard down. Panic bubbles up inside your chest as you keep watching the flames in their game of chase. Dancing after each other but never quite reaching each other.

Silence covered the room after your confession as you become trapped deeper in your own head and Larissa you assume is processing everything you had just dumped out in the open. God you were such an idiot sometimes. You had just admitted feelings. Feelings equal vulnerability. Vulnerability is dangerous it allowed you to be hurt in the most traumatic ways. God you may as well have just handed her a loaded gun and said shoot me. But this was Larissa. Not her. No Larissa was nothing like her. You knew that she wouldn't hurt you. You knew that. Yet the panic still kept rising higher and higher feeling like it was going to explode inside your chest.

Larissa was the first to break the silence pulling you from my own personal hell.

"Darling? Can I?" She opened her arms to me in a silent question. Cautiously you crawled closer shoulders tense as you was wondering where the trick would be. It had to be a trick. Why would someone do perfect want to hold you? In fact when was the last time you were held by someone? For comfort? It must have been years because try as you might you couldn't remember the last time you had felt safe in someone's arms. It wasn't long before you was wrapped in her arms finally relaxed with your head nuzzled into her neck. She has the most beautiful floral scent that you couldn't help but drink in committing it to memory for when she undoubtedly leaves. One of her hands rubbed up and down your back ever so gently tracing your spine as if she was afraid she'd break you. Sobs wrecked your body at the small action of affection and comfort. How pathetic that a hug had reduced you into this mess. Yet here you were breaking down int he arms of your goddess. Your saviour. But it wasn't just a hug it. No it was her. For the first time in so many years you felt safe and loved.

"Hush darling it's okay. You're okay, I have you" she whispered as you continue to sob into her neck. With a feather light kiss into the crown of your head she continued. "Y/n you're so strong. And although I know I don't really know anything that you've been through I know you're strong. And telling me must have been so hard for you to do. However darling having feelings doesn't make you weak at all and you have to know I'd never hurt you like that. I couldn't do that to you." Her tone of voice showing the sincerity of her words just had you sobbing harder.

"Wh-y " I finally managed to hiccup out not knowing if she'd follow my train of thought but not able to coherently form a sentence as I tried to gain composure over my emotional state. Why would someone as amazing as Larissa want the broken pathetic mess that was you?

"Because y/n I have feelings for you too. I didn't say anything because you didn't seem comfortable and I didn't want to spook you. But darling I'd never hurt a beautiful soul like yours. You deserve to be treated properly darling and i would happily dedicate the rest of my life to doing so."

More tears leaked from your eyes at her beautiful words. How could someone be so perfect and have feelings for you? That just didn't make sense. Sitting here wrapped in her embrace you could tell she honestly meant every word.

"No one's ever held me like this before" you shyly admitted to her once you had managed to gather a bit of control over your emotional state. Being used was what you were use to. But this was so gentle and caring you could practically feel the love radiating from her. "Could you just... could we... stay like this?"

"Of course darling for as long as you need" she replied holding you closer allowing you to feel the soft beats of her heart. "Y/n?"

"Mhmm?"

"This heart beats for you dear" she whispered with a smile when she felt your smile in her neck.

Words~ 1651

*Authors note ~ soft Larissa has my heart this was wrote during a particularly hard break up I was going through. I had to learn to allow people to see my emotions and to hug me again. It was hard and I hope that if anyone else is going through anything similar in relationships that you have someone to reach out to. I will always have my messages open *

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa x you #fanfic #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie

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beerecordings · 3 months

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The Other Monster - Chapter 1

From my Graceling AU - Based loosely on Kristin Cashore’s Graceling books, this is a magic-medieval setting where Jameson is a child who’s been raised by Anti - a Monstrously beautiful assassin and abuse survivor who's come to see the world as evil. As Jameson starts to question his brother's perspective, he discovers another Monster in need of his help: Marvin the Magnificent, who's been abducted from his home and sold to the highest bidder.

Previous fics in this world: One l Two l Three

Next Chapter

For more context, I'll add that Anti and JJ are Gracelings (beings who have a supernatural ability of some kind). Anti is capable of Persuasion, and JJ is still discovering his power. In the books, all Monsters have a kind of Persuasion, but I didn't give that power to all Monsters, only Anti.

And let me be real upfront before we get started: this fic is never explicit in any scene, and absolutely never fetishistic, but it involves Anti continuing to process severe child sexual abuse, including incest, and Marvin being trafficked, held prisoner, and sexually abused. There is no pressure to read. I will tag carefully, but be aware these themes continue throughout. That being said... it's a story about healing and loving people anyway. Because a lot of us are all processing some stuff of our own too.

Okay. Let's go. And let me know if you want to see more <3

He dreams of Chase.

“Keep up, slowpoke!”

Running through the grass with their hands clasped together, turning to heave the child into his arms when the mud reaches his little brother’s thighs, making him shriek with laughter as he swings and rocks him through the muddy valley in mid-spring, blowing blubber kisses into his fat toddler tummy.

He dreams of Jackie.

“Keep quiet, keep quiet! You have to stop laughing.”

Sneaking through the hallways of the castle one at a time, beckoning for each other when the coast is clear before darting into the kitchen to steal lemon poppyseed muffins and jam bakes and a jug of apple cider each, causing trouble and then retreating as fast as their teenage feet could carry them to their rooms in the high tower or the swaying tree house they built for themselves in the arms of the old oak tree beyond the courtyard.

He dreams of his cousin.

“You study too much, come on, come play with us.”

Slamming cards and chess pieces down against the table as they played games at rapid-fire speeds, their eyes sparkling with a shared enthusiasm for the fond competition between them, exchanging insults in a half-dozen different languages, gossiping about everyone they know and laughing for the fun of it, curled up in front of the fire with mulberry wine and Henrik’s company to keep him warm through the winter time.

He dreams of his family.

“Where are you?” he whispers to the shadows. “Why haven’t you found me yet? You said you’d keep me safe, please… I know I act like I can take care of myself, but I’m scared. I’ve never been this scared in my life. I don’t want to be sold.”

A slam against iron like the striking of swords jolts him from his sleep with a scream. He grabs his own shoulders and shoves himself back against the walls of the cage, staring in terror up at his captor, who looks back with bleak blue pelican’s eyes, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Age?” he asks, holding up a pad of parchment.

Marvin breathes hard, staring around his cell, blinking.

“Still surprised to find yourself in here? You been in here three fucking days, start adjusting. Age?”

“What?”

“How old are you?” asks the man, enunciating his words slow and mocking. “How many years do your parents say you are when your grandpappy asks?”

Marvin squeezes his eyes shut, flushed with humiliation. “I – I’m twenty-six.”

He writes it down, unperturbed. Marvin wraps his arms tighter around himself, shivering in the cold. “Can I have something to eat?” he croaks out. “I’m starving.”

“Better if you’re thin,” answers the man blandly. “Maybe in a couple days. What’s your name?”

Marvin clutches his knees to his chest, staring at the filthy floor in front of him, his eyes flickering back and forth. “Fabian,” he whispers after a moment, hearing the frailness of his own voice. His whole body is giving out on him. His mind too, he expects. He closes his eyes. “I’m Fabian.”

“Good,” says the man, scrawling on his notepad. “You’ve already learned to lie about it. No one cares about your old name. No one cares about your old life. Forget it. You’ll never go back to it.”

“My family would pay a lot of money to have me back,” cries Marvin. “And my brother is a Graceling warrior! You ought to let me go before he finds me, or I swear to God that you’ll regret being born!”

“Glad to see you’ve resorted to threats instead of biting and screaming like that first day,” grumbles the man, shaking out the wound on his hand that Marvin gave him.

“You deserve it!” Marvin screams. “You and everybody’s who’s trying to steal me away! I’ll kill you like I killed the first one who grabbed me! If he didn’t have his fucking friends there – ”

“Any health concerns?” asks the man, staring down at his clipboard.

Marvin breathes hard, tears dripping down his face, holding himself in the middle of his cold cell.

“Well?”

“I… I’m allergic to walnut,” Marvin whispers, shrinking in on himself and closing his eyes.

“Great,” says the slave trader. “I’ll mark that down.”

He turns and walks away.

Marvin stares at the floor. The tears dripping onto it humiliate him. Everything is a humiliation. Everything is a threat. Everything wants to use him. To hurt him. To take him away.

He remembers being rebellious as a child when his parents would shave down his hair and make him wear coverings in public or hide him away during state dinners, never letting anyone but Jackie and Chase and Henrik see him, sometimes even telling guests they had only two sons to keep him a secret. He complained about being a prisoner - isolated, guarded, not allowed to grow up like a normal kid. At the time, the pain of his being hidden away from the whole rest of the world felt like something that would destroy him. It makes him want to laugh now, but all that comes out is a quiet sob. He should have been more careful. He should never have gone into town with Chase. He’s thirteen now and old enough to get anything Marvin needs from the city without him. What Marvin wouldn’t give to be back in their little summer cabin right now, making pancakes or swimming in the lake with him. With no one staring at him or touching him. With food in his belly and a friend at his side.

But the one upside to this hunger and the cold and the grief are that they keep sending him back to sleep. Back to dreams. He drifts off once more soon enough, chewing on a strand of his hair like he’s a five-year-old again, rocking himself against the stone walls on his every side.

He dreams of his parents, and his childhood.

“I don’t want to go to bed yet, Momma.”

“You don’t have to just yet, baby.”

He would like to be a child again, rocking on her lap, curled up between his parents by the fire. Jackie would be on the floor, looking up at him with his big child’s eyes, just a couple years older and protective from the start. Watching over him. With everyone close. With everyone holding him. He would like to be safe again.

“I don’t want to go just yet,” he whispers, pressed into his mother’s arms. Jackie would struggle up onto the enormous bed and squirm his way into his mother’s arms beside him, landing soggy child kisses on his face and reaching out to be held by their father, patting his chubby hands against his shoulders when he’s picked up and snuggling down against them both, the four of them sandwiched together in the warmth.

“You can stay,” his father would say, stroking his hair, blue as the galaxy, shining like its closest stars. “You can stay, my little son. No one will take you away.”

They had made him this promise time and time again. Even before he was old enough to realize it, his parents understood the curse that he was born with. No one, they said, will take you away. Even if we go. No one will take you. Jackie will protect you. Won’t you, Jackie?

And Jackie, from the time he was three years old, had nodded and promised with more intensity in his Graceling eyes than any child should ever have to muster.

“Yes, Marvy. I will protect you.”

He’s spent his whole life protecting Marvin. He’s given him everything he had. It wasn’t his fault. Marvin knows that. Their parents should never have made him promise. Their parents should never have promised him they could keep him safe. No one can. No one ever could. He should have known.

“I’m just a Monster,” he whispers, when consciousness comes to hurt him again. The walls of the prison cell stare back at him, wide-eyed and silent. “The whole rest of the world knows that this is where I belong.”

Forget that old life. You will never get back to it.

Marvin realizes that this might well be true. Up until this moment, he never knew it was possible to be this afraid.

“Please, Jackie… please hurry. Please find me soon, my brother.”

It's always so strange, watching the spiral his brother goes through before his birthday.

He doesn't think Anti knows that he notices, but it's been happening for years now. Anti starts out overenthusiastic at the start of the month, but as the days go on, he grows quiet, deflates. He's never liked the idea of Jameson growing up. He doesn't think he was supposed to notice that either.

He knocks on the door of Anti's study, waiting for a rumble of an answer before he comes inside. Or tries to. The door is locked. He hears his brother get up and come to the door, unlocking it and letting him in.

"You're locking your study now?" Jameson asks.

Anti scowls. "You never know who might come in."

Sure.

The fortress where they live is all cold stone and locked doors, always has been. Jameson knows it's not normal for the serving girl to have only one hour a day when she is allowed to clean one room at a time, and even stranger for her to be blindfolded when she serves them dinner.

But he also knows why they do it.

"Come sit," says Anti, patting the chair across from his desk before he goes to sit back down. Jameson notices a new patch of dried blood on one side of the cushion. Who did his brother kill here, and for what? A business deal gone wrong, an insult he couldn't abide by? Or did someone catch a glimpse of him, and figure out his secret?

Anti tucks away some papers on his desk, and Jameson studies the lines of his brother's face. He knows how rare a privilege it is to be allowed to do so. Rarer still for Anti to look back at someone without suspicion. With warmth. Sometimes, Anti even lets Jameson touch his face. Scratch his small nails along the rough texture of his beard.

His brother was born a Monster, not that Jameson will ever understand the word. Even after all these years, he's so fond of his brother's appearance. The skin is clear and smooth, no matter how little he cares for it, and even the scars seem artful, charming, intriguing. His mismatched Graceling eyes burn with color, green and blue, each competing to be brighter than the other, and the dark beard and waves of emerald hair are so familiar to Jameson. He remembers the first time he met him, when Anti came to his room to save him. He remembers asking his brother if he was an angel.

Not an angel. More like a demon. Always a Monster. But never to him.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Jameson signs, and Anti's quick to turn his head from his work. He swore to him years ago he would never ignore his signing, and he's not sure the promise ever leaves the front of Anti's mind.

Since he's about the only one who understands him, Jameson's grateful.

"You done with lessons for the day?" Anti asks.

"Yes."

"And you took care of Bertrand?"

"Of course I did."

"Good." Anti finishes shutting his drawers and gives Jameson his full attention, looking at him keenly from across the desk. "I need your help with a mission."

Jameson's stomach turns over. "I don't want to watch any more dying, Anti."

He sees his brother bite back on a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for a second, and Jameson squirms in his seat. They've talked about this so many times, he knows what Anti's going to say before he says it.

"You have to learn how to kill someday, Jameson. I'm trying to get you accustomed to death. But if you're not ready yet, we can wait. It's okay for you to be a kid a while longer."

Right, thinks Jameson flatly. That wonderful conundrum of Anti wanting him to be fully grown and tiny forever at the same time.

"That's not it, though. I just need you to wait outside while I storm a building. A girl will come out and you can take her somewhere safe. Then I'll come get you and we'll go home."

"That's it?" asks Jameson suspiciously. "I just have to wait outside a building? Won't the girl wonder why I can't talk?"

"I'll tell her you can't. Just lead her away. To that big church nearby that you like. It will be easy."

"But can't some of your... minions help? Or Anja or someone?"

Anti starts laughing. "Minions, is that the sign for that? No, James, I can't trust lackeys with this, and partners even less so. Anyway, Anja is in Loughlin. You'll have to come with."

"Somebody tried to cheat you, then, and you're punishing them."

His brother pauses for a moment, looking him over. "No," he says. "They don't know me. But the girl is innocent and the rest are not. So you'll wait outside for her. Tomorrow night, okay? So get done with everything you need to do before then."

Well, it doesn't sound so terrible. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"There's a good kid. Come on, darling. You ready for some dinner?"

"Yes, let's go!"

He loves when Anti takes the time to eat with him. His brother puts a hand on his shoulder as he leads him out of his study, locking it firmly behind him, just like the rest. "And maybe we should talk about your birthday coming up," adds Anti.

Jameson looks up at him, surprised. It's not a topic they bring up, usually: Jameson getting older. He doesn't understand why, but he knows his brother's never liked it, knows celebrating his birthday is always something Anti has to force. It's like a secret they keep, at times - one of many.

"What about it?" Jameson asks.

"Like what you want to do and get for presents," says Anti. "You're going to be ten, after all. That's a milestone."

"What? No, Anti, I'll be eleven."

Anti stops short and looks at him, mouth curved down.

"I'll be eleven," Jameson repeats. "I was ten last year. Do you remember?"

"Ah," says Anti, and for a long moment, he's quiet. "Of course you were. I do remember."

And then, softer still, "you'll be eleven."

"Maybe you could stay home with me all day," Jameson offers. "And we'll go for a ride with a picnic, and we can have the beef with gravy I like for dinner?"

But Anti's doing that thing now, that thing that he does around his birthday. A sad thing, Jamie thinks, or maybe a mad one. He can never quite tell. But he looks at Jameson, and then right through him, and it's like he stops seeing him completely. He wonders what his brother sees when he looks at him like that.

"Of course we can," says Anti, but Jameson doesn't think he understood him at all.

It's happening more and more, lately.

Jameson puts his arm around his brother's waist and hugs himself against his side. Anti can give him missions and lessons and duties if he wants, and that's okay. But his real job is always going to be this: taking care of Anti, like Anti takes care of him. After all, if he doesn't do it, he knows there is no one else in the world who will.

#tw human trafficking #graceling au #i've posted the first section before but I'm starting over with the rest of the story! it needed fixing up #thanks for reading!!

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chezzywezzy · 2 years

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Yandere Steven & Marc (3/4)

Word count ; 4.3k

*TW : abuse. general manipulation. Remember, Steven/Marc aren’t really good either lmao. it's yandere for a reason.

I dried my hands, having finally finished washing the dishes from tonight’s meal. Charles was god knows where taking a phone call, so I was grateful to have some time to myself. I cleared my throat and grabbed my phone, stopping the music. I still had my earbuds, though, hoping to watch some videos on the couch before retiring for the night.

It had been a very exhausting last few days. Charles… tended to be a drama queen, so at least I couldn’t complain about life being dull, despite working at a flimsy gift shop day to day.

I entered the living room. Because the night was cool, before sitting on the couch, I went open to open the windows, although I left the screen to cover them. I could hear Charles talking angrily to someone on the phone about something. I ignored it, though, plopping on the couch and pulling my legs up with me.

I checked my messenger, skimming over some group chats, before moving to YouTube. I put on a random upload from my favorite YouTuber, instantly becoming absorbed. I even laughed a few times. I was so preoccupied, in fact, that I completely ignored Charles when he sat on the couch beside me.

I jolted out of surprise when he grabbed my knee. I paused the video and pulled out an earbud, eyeing him questioningly.

Charles was stoic as usual, but for the first time in a long while, he had a slight smile on his handsome expression. My heart used to melt for the opportunity to see him happy, but it grew old quickly. It was quite overshadowed by how negative he always was. But my friends told me this was normal in a serious relationship and marriage.

“What is it?” I asked, quirking a brow.

“I figured it was about time you moved in with me,” he stated.

My entire body tensed. Even the idea of living with him terrified me. He seemed to notice my body language, though, and squeezed my knee tighter. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Once I recovered from the shellshocked, I inquired,” …Why the rush?”

“Why the hesitance?”

“I - It’s just, you’re bringing this up so suddenly when we’ve already agreed to wait til marriage,” I muttered. I couldn’t meet his gaze, instead steeling myself for what I knew was coming.

“Change of plans. I’m getting impatient. Do you not want to move in with me? I have all the money in the world. You could quit your job and live a carefree existence.”

“It’s… too sudden. I’ve already paid this month’s rent. And I like working, thank you very much.” My throat was completely dry.

Charles pulled away and rose to his feet. He towered over me, leaving my with no choice but to meet his fiery gaze. His fists were clenched, and even with a bruised face, he was terrifying to look at.

“There’s no reason for you not to move in with me now. What are you not telling me? I’m right about you being a cheating whore, aren’t I? I’ve always known it —“

“I’m not cheating!” I shrieked desperately. I scooted down the couch quickly, rising to my feet. “How many times do I have to tell you? Because of you, I literally have no life, except for your rich socialite friends! I’ve changed everything about myself for you, and yet here you are, accusing me of being unfaithful!”

As quickly as my anger flourished, it vanished, being replaced with fear as I saw how his expression darkened. He always told me he hated when I raised my voice. He hated when I argued with him. He hated how I was. But… how could I stand for such accusations.

“Shut the fuck up, you sleazy bitch!” he roared, red in the face. “It’s that arsehole from earlier, isn’t it? Am I not rich enough? Do I not buy you enough things? Is that why you fuck other guys? Stop lying to my face, whore!”

Tears had already sprouted to my eyes. Silence fell over the room. It was either I upset him more by defending myself, or I upset him more by admitting to something I’d never done. There was no escape for me in this situation, and he knew that.

Instead, a sob bubbled in my throat, and my hands went to wipe my eyes. Why did the man hate me so?

“Stop fucking crying, slut! You always play the bloody victim when you know damn well I’m the one being hurt. I deserve better. You should be fucking grateful I waste my time on a bitch like you! I could do so much better, so be grateful I’m even with you.”

“Get out, get out, get out!” I yelled, meekly pushing at his chest. “I want you gone! Now! Leave me be!”

That wasn’t the right thing to say at all. Charles snorted cynically, pushing me in return. Except, it wasn’t nearly as light as mine was. Instead, I was sent flying over the coffee table. While in the process of falling, I reached out desperately, but all I found was a vase of flowers that he’d given me. It crashed along with me, some of the glass immediately piercing my legs. My head also collided with the wooden floor, and I let out a shriek of pain.

I heard several clicks and snaps from outside the window.

My head was pounding, my legs were tangled, and glass was stuck in my. I was also wet from the spilled flowers. I was… miserable.

I curled up on the side, unable to prevent the sobs from escaping, echoing in the room. I felt oh-so pathetic as Charles only stared. He didn’t even move to help me.

He moved around the coffee table and crouched in front of me. I was still cradling my legs to my chest, my hands covered in my own blood. My vision was blurry, and yet I still attempted shrink away from him as he reached out to me.

I hoped for him to be kind. But that would only happen in my dreams. Instead, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me upright. My throat burned even further as my limbs were forced to stretch in unnatural ways. He pulled me so very close. With one hand, he had my collar, but with the other, he cupped my cheek.

“Listen here, whore. I’ll look over this incident and forgive you if and only if you never fucking cheat again and you move in with me,” he huskily demanded. “Be obedient and we’ll get married without any other hitches. Got it?”

I was so exhausted, I could only blink. That seemed to satisfy him, and his entire mood seemed to switch. He smiled sweetly, pressed a quick kiss to my lips. My entire body seemed to reject it, and in that moment, I began to heave. He pulled away, confused.

And just like that, I threw up. It was just as painful as the blood seeping from the wounds. The omit landed on his expensive suit, and he immediately threw me back onto the floor, stumbling away in disgust.

I heard more snaps and clicks but was too drained to see what the commotion was. Charles clearly was too.

He didn’t even say goodbye as he grabbed his briefcase. All I could hear was a ‘fucking bitch’ muttered under his breath.

My mouth was dry after I finished spilling my guts. All I could do was sprawl out on the ground, staring at the ceiling helplessly.

He’d never been violent toward me before. My heart had officially shattered into pieces.

~~~

Steven was absolutely knackered. After a night of spying and then him and Marc losing their shit and then immediately diving into planning and then losing their shit again after reviewing the photos, it was safe to say he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. However, a cup of coffee fueled them for the time being. And besides, she was more important than sleep.

Marc was on the same page as him completely now. In fact, he was the one who thought of their little plan yesterday, and was the brunt force that drove them into ungodly hours of the night. Marc would hopefully never be more interested than him, but he sure was equally obsessed with the girl as him. Although, it was definitely for different reasons.

He waved politely to the security guard. The security guard waved back, greeting,” Hey Stu!”

On any other day, that would bother him to no end. But he was completely absorbed with his mission, entering the museum further.

The moment he spotted Y/n at her normal post, leaning against the gift shop counter with a distant look in her eyes, Steven was as grateful as he was bothered. She was incredibly injured. She should’ve taken at least a week off to rest! But, at the same time, it meant he wouldn’t have to wait on moving forward with his plan.

He uttered as friendly as a smile as he could, despite having nothing but negativity swarming his head. Y/n didn’t even notice as he walked up to the counter, his hands shoved in his pocket. She was looking directly at him, but she was completely spaced out, not even blinking.

Steven sighed, waving his hand in front of her face. She suddenly jumped, standing up straight. She seemed terrified for a brief moment, but all her stress washed away the instant she recognized the man in front of her.

“Hello there,” Steven greeted poshly.

Y/n seemed relieved by his presence. She nodded curtly. “Hi, Steven. The same goes for Marc… What brings you here?” she tittered.

Steven grinned. “I wish I could say it was just to visit, but it’s actually on official business. Are you doing alright, though? You seem pretty knackered.”

“Just… had a bout of insomnia last night, is all,” she fibbed quietly.

Steven’s mouth twitched, but didn’t let his displeasure show. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hate to bother you again, but as you probably know, I work with police, and furthermore, detectives.” That was a lie. But she didn’t need to know that. “See, I recognized your fiancé the other day. Charles Mindel of Mindel corporations, yes?”

Y/n nodded. “Yeah… and?”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but… he’s been under investigation for the following crimes.” He cleared his throat, pulling out a napkin from his pocket. He read,” Embezzlement, collusion, forgery, and most evident, workplace sexual and physical abuse. Do you know anything about this? Have the police contacted you at all?”

Her jaw dropped. Y/n wasn’t very good at hiding her concern. Steven felt smug; he was witnessing the destruction of Y/n and that piece of shit’s relationship in real time. A part of him also felt bad for lying, but seeing how this guy was, he probably was committing a lot of crimes.

“No, the police haven’t… Charles doesn’t really, uh, talk to people about me. He says its, uh, bad for him reputation. I don’t know anything about it. He doesn’t take to me about his work.”

Steven’s smile faded and he accidentally clenched his fist, crumpling the napkin at the same time. Y/n glanced unsurely at it, but Steven shook his head. “Seriously…?”

“What?” she retorted, confused.

Steven held back a rant about what a piece of shit he was, but he knew she wasn’t in the right mindset to hear it right now. Maybe she would be when she saw the evidence he planted in that arsehole’s office. Not only did he plan on rescuing her from an abusive relationship, he planned to swoop in and steal his heart when he proved he was the right one for her.

“Nothing,” Steven answered. “Em, has he displayed any suspicious activities? Is there anything abnormal about his behavior? Abuser tend to act certain ways, after all, and it would be a great lead.”

“Well -I don’t really know about any of that stuff… Exactly how many people have reported abuse?”

He tapped his chin in lock thought. “Hm… I recall reading four reports from women who used to be his assistants. Their stories seem consistent. First, he love-bombs them with gifts and pretty words, then asks for things in exchange such as a kiss, and often, when he was rejected or they made a mistake at work, he became violent and gave them an ultimatum to keep quiet.”

Y/n was trembling in her boots. Steven could tell by the look in her eyes that she believed it. That her soon-to-be ex-fiancé was capable of such things. Because what he described was exactly how Steven observed him treating her.

But, she shook her head anyways. “That’s… terrible!” Her voice was shaky. “Um, I really don’t know anything about that. I mean, he treats me… okay, I suppose. Is… there any way I could help?”

Bingo. Steven predicted that instead of admitting the arsehole was abusive, she’d offer to help. Steven almost loser ‘professionalism,’ wanting nothing more than to grin with ecstasy. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Well, yes, actually. Because we are only able to search a house for a specific crime, it’s hard to nail all of them at once.That’s where you come in, Y/n. If you’d be so kind, perhaps after work - if you’ll let me go with you -, would you check his home for anything suspicious?”

“Y - yes! Yes, of course… I just don’t believe… Well, never mind.”

He knew Y/n believed he was capable of such terrible crimes. Because she already knew he treated her like shit.

He became a bit nervous. “Actually, Y/n… one, can we exchange phone numbers? So you can text me when work is over. And second, I’d love to treat you to an, uh, uh, meal afterwards. I’m sure you could use an extra friend with all that’s going on.” And a soon-to-be lover. In Steven’s mind, Y/n was already falling for him.

Y/n opened and then shut her mouth again., taking out her phone at the same tie and handing it to him. As Steven entered in his number, she reluctantly said,” I’m not sure if I can accept dinner. It’s nothing against you - you’re quite lovely - it’s just, if Charles found out…”

Steven quirked a brow, hander her phone back. “If he found out?”

“Well - nothing. I just don’t think I can.”

“If you happen to find something incriminating, I’m fairly certain what he thinks would be the least of your worries. Please?”

Y/n’s shoulders lowered.”Well… I guess so. Sure. Dinner sounds lovely.”

~~~

Today was a shitty day. Yesterday was a shitty day. The day before that was a shitty day. Every day had been shitty for the longest time. And right now, as I pulled out a key to Charles’ house with Steven or Marc - the walk was silent and he could’ve switched in the meantime -, I felt shitty. I was walking with a limp, too.

Marc had noticed earlier. He questioned it several times, but shut up about it eventually.

The door opening with ease. None of Charles’ cars were sitting outside, so I already knew he wasn’t home. I also knew that when he was giving the cold shoulder, he busied himself with work. And, potentially, forcefully sleeping with other women.

The accusation angered me to no end. It hurt because I had no doubt in my mind that Charles was probably like that. That he had the audacity to accuse me of cheating because I talked to a man when he was treating other women that way…

But there wasn’t any solid evidence yet. And I hoped there wouldn’t be. It would break my heart that I wasn’t even good enough for an evil man like him.

I didn’t have much dignity left, but if I found evidence of criminal activities, I’d have enough dignity to end things. Maybe then… I’d be happy.

I shut the door behind Steven slash Marc. He was proven to be Marc when he spoke up,” So this is the place, huh?”

I nodded wordlessly, hanging my bag up on the coat rack. I didn’t bother kicking off my shoes. Hopefully, this would be as simple as in-and-out.

Marc cleared his throat. “We need to check the bedroom and office. Those are the priorities, since secrets are usually stored in those areas.”

“Sure thing.”

I motioned for him to follow, and I led him up the stairs. I figured that anything related to cheating would be in the bedroom, so I’d leave it for last. I marched down the hall toward the office, the floorboards’ creaks being the only sound echoing the house.

I wanted to get this over with. Heaving out a sigh, I opened the door.

I was relieved when the office didn’t seem any different than the few times I previously visited. Marc placed a firm, comforting hand on my shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. I glanced back with him, but he separated, leaning on the wall. He was letting me do the dirty work.

I started with the file cases. I scanned several papers, mostly the ones in the back, but nothing seemed off about it. I didn’t really know how to read the files, so for all I knew, it could be collusion agreements or bribery or whatever. However, that wasn’t what I was looking for, and I knew it.

“Find anything suspicious?”

“No. I don’t really understand any of this business stuff,” I admitted.

“Me neither,” Marc chuckled.

I weaved around the desk, sitting down for support. By the legs were drawers, the glass onyx for the sake of privacy. I eyed the laptop, but I didn’t know his password, so left it alone. I leaned over and pulled the top drawer open. It was almost completely barren, except for some pens and unopened post-it note packs.

The one underneath had a bunch of business magazines. I dug underneath, and my stomach began to churn when I found some Playboy magazines. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the potential heads-up on what I’d find or because who the fuck had in-person porn magazines?

I pulled the newspaper up and slapped it on the desk. Marc looked over in surprise before joining me at the desk. He grabbed the magazines, letting out a quiet ‘huh.’

I opened the third drawer.

And that’s when it seemed that my entire world was crashing down on my. My heart was on the verge of physically imploding. But, I was so stunned that I pulled out a cellular device.

I knew that Charles always had his phone on him for business. There was only one reason he’d need a second one. For cheating… or something worse. I could only hope it was the worse option for the sake of my almost non-existent self-confidence.

But, alas, when I dug deeper, my entire world stopped turning.

Shakily, I pulled out several pairs of lingerie and underwear. They were worn down and didn’t have any name tags on them. They were used. And they weren’t mine. And, most of all, Charles and I had never slept together. He never wanted to.

I set a red lace bra and pantie set on the desk. And then a black thong. And then a pink bikini top. And the bikini top was wet.

“Are… these yours?” Marc asked unsurely.

I’m sure his question was answered when I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After all the accusations of being unfaithful, of not being good enough, of being a whore, he was cheating on me. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I sunk into the seat. My entire body was trembling and my mind was both racing and blank at the same time.

How long had he been cheating? Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Wasn’t I pretty enough? Wasn’t I obedient enough? He never asked to have sex with me. He said he wanted to wait until marriage. Was it because he preferred other women?

My vision was blurry, but Marc immediately swooped around the desk and crouched in front of me. He grabbed my hands and pulled me into his chest. I felt disgusted with myself, just as disgusted as I was with Charles. I tried struggling to escape the hug, but he was steadfast, hushing into my ear and rubbing my back soothingly.

I couldn’t help it. I caved immediately, grabbing at his t-shirt. I was surprised that Marc didn’t let Steven take over, but that was the least of my concerns. I cried loudly into his neck, despite a numb sensation washing over me. My everything hurt. It was like my thigh was throbbing more than ever, the wounds completely reopened. My heart was torn into shreds.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed. All I knew is that I eventually detached from the man feeling all cried-out. I rubbed my nose and eyes furiously.

Marc assisted me as I rose to my feet. “Marc,” I croaked,” walk out of frame… please.”

Marc did so, but I noticed that he took his phone out and snapped a few pictures. Probably for the sake of the investigation. But I pulled my own phone out from my back pocket, leaning against the desk for support. I wasted no time in face-timing Charles.

He declined almost immediately. But I ruthlessly tried again. And again. And again. Fifth time was the charm because it rang for several seconds. Just seeing his irritated expression sent a wave of anger through me.

“What? I’m busy, damn it. I don’t have time. The fuck do you want? To apologize?”

I snickered. “Sure. I’m the one who should be apologizing when you’re the one fucking cheating on me and abusing god knows how many people and being just the shittiest fucking human being alive!” My voice progressively got louder, but I couldn’t help it.

He hissed, walking down a white hallway. He looked insecure. He entered through a door during my rant, and immediately his expression betrayed his fury.

“The hell are you talking about, whore —“

I turned the camera view so that it was aimed exactly at the incriminating evidence. “You… you have the audacity to say I’m worthless and - and a big nothing and a whore and yet you were in your fucking office fucking some poor girl in a bikini god knows how many hours ago! How fucking dare you —“

“Shut the fuck up! Stop fucking yelling. You’ll ruin my goddamn reputation,” Charles shouted, having lost his temper. “Did you plant that shit? I haven’t fucking cheated on you, but fucking hell maybe I should have. You’re lying to my fucking face —“

“No. No! You’re a total asshole! You could’ve fucking… fucking immobilized my leg last night! I bet you went home and cheated on me after you fucking hurt the hell out of me like the asshole you are —“

He rubbed his temples. “I’m not fucking cheating! I don’t know how the fuck that shit got into my office. Why the fuck are you there anyways, huh? To plant that shit —“

“Deny it all you want, asshole. We’re over. If I ever see you again, I’ll —“

“You’ll what, huh?” He was seething. I fell silent at that, my skin crawling. “You’re not breaking up with me. I don’t know how that shit got there, but even with how fucking braindead you are I wouldn’t cheat.” I scoffed, but he didn’t seem to be done. “You’re not breaking up with me, Y/n. If you do, I swear to fucking god I will kill you.”

All of my anger vanished and my heart stopped. I had never been so terrified.

My attention was suddenly drawn to Marc. I realized that he had been recording the entire interaction. I felt so terribly embarrassed. He was motioning for me to hang up.I could only gulp.

“Well?”

I had yet to turn the camera back to me. But I didn’t need to. I was scared for my life, but Marc was a witness. That meant, even if I was brutally murdered, at least one person would know.

“…Fuck you.”

I hung up and turned off my phone. My arms fell to my side. Marc immediately bounced back to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I let him lead me out of the room. Everything hurt so badly it was numb. But I leaned against Marc as we left the house. He wordlessly took my bag for me.

A part of me, deep down, was relieved. It was freeing in a sense. But right now, I was absolutely heartbroken.

“Hey. How about instead of dinner, we just go to your apartment and order pizza and watch a movie? I don’t think it’s safe to be alone right now.”

I strained a smile. “Yeah. That would be nice. I’m sorry for… that. You didn’t need to see that.”

He squeezed my arm while gently placing a kiss to the side of my head. “Don’t apologize. He’s a bad guy, Y/n. You deserve better. And I promise, we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

It was comforting to hear that. And maybe it was because I was vulnerable and desperate, but I could’ve sworn my heart fluttered.

@slutalexis46 @greenxtea0 @gorgeourrific-nerd

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