I'm restarting this account kinda because I got really sad and deleted all my writing (• ▽ •;)
But anyway, my name is Konner, I'm 15, and I post my writing on here! I take requests when it comes to x reader fanfiction but it's not guaranteed that I'll get to your suggestion, and I'm very sorry about that but I'm a verrrryyyyy bad under pressure and the thought of people waiting on me makes me panic.
Boundaries and what fandoms I write for, and other information below below!↓↓
Pleassssssseeeeee be nice to me, I'm not looking for criticism unless I ask, so please don't say anything is bad unless absolutely necessary (like of something I write could offend someone).
I'm not always aiming for completely in character fics, I'm bad at that. I write what I feel is right. ( ╹▽╹ )
I ONLY write for trans people, gender fluid, non binary, etc. not cis het women/men most of the time because the market is FLOODED 😭 But I will write for lesbians/bi women and gay/bi men. Basically I write for queer people, I have NOTHING against cis het women/men so please do not imply that I do.
Only refer to me by he/him it/its please.
This one isn't really a boundary but it's important, I may have DID so if my writing seems different sometimes it's because of that!!!!
And writing related, I will write very suggestive stuff just not full on smut, so don't suggest anything fully NSFW like that please. (Nobody is getting naked unless it's for a warm bath, people.) (I will write aftercare stuff though because awesome sauce.)
And do NOT feed my art or writing into AI, I will come for your ass if you do.
If anyone from my personal life is reading this, fuck off. Actually. I will never speak to you ever again if you go through this account just to make fun of me.
Now for the....
Fandoms I write for:
(this will be updated a lot, highlighted ones are my current favs)
Red dead redemption (both games, not undead nightmare or online though bc I haven't played those yet(;;;・_・))
Outlast (1,2, Trials, all of em :3)
Mafia definitive edition
Danganronpa sometimes (1,2,v3)
Dexter (ONLY the first show because I refuse to watch the other ones (´⌓`))
Hannibal
The boys (not homelander, I physically can't, I'm sorry 💔 also only platonic soldier boy)
Invincible
House of wax (2005)
100 bloody acres
The Texas chainsaw massacre (1 and 2)
My own ocs once I post them, giggles
Black Christmas (1974)
Peacemaker
Detroit become human
Re-animator (I've only seen the first and second movie, but don't remember the second ｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡)
House of 1000 corpses (all of the films)
Rob Zombie's Halloween (I can only write Michael I'm sorry ಥ‿ಥ)
Deadpool (movies)
Far Cry 5 (the only far cry game I've finished)
The Batman 2022
What I will write:
Romance, angst, comfort, platonic stuff, animal reader (platonic ONLY I am NOT writing fucking zoophilia), child reader (also platonic only, for VERY obvious reasons), really oddly specific shit. Like you want the reader to be British with POTS? Sure why the hell not. Suggestive, not fully NSFW, like I said. I feel the need to mention this specifically, but I would absolutely write for an aroace reader. And polyamory.
What I WON'T write:
Nsfw, age play, things of that sort. Allll of the "ism"s and "philia"s.
Worst part of writing fanfiction for a niche fandom is that noboby interacts with what I write, but I know there is at least one person out there that will look for fanfiction and expect nothing to come up and find what I wrote like 4 years later. Because the exact same thing has happened to me before, create the world you wanna live in, people
Summary: the deputy gets real sad over a voice message, gets drunk, has a nightmare and is visited by the ghost of Christmas past(/j)
Info: Takes place about mid game, like half way through Faith's region if the order was John, Faith, Jacob. The reader is the Deputy.
Warnings: massive suicide and death warning. Not proof read/spell checked. Alcohol use, drug use mentioned, religious stuff obviously, guilt, moral issues, this is angst.
Since arriving in hope county you've had to kill lots of people. All kinds. The evil, the damaged, the near innocent. People who didn't belong in Eden's Gate, only there because of their own naivety or desperation. People who genuinely believed in Joseph and his teachings. People who only joined because they wanted to feel the rush in their veins as they watched the life fade from anothers eyes.
Hundreds of lives taken by your hand, so much blood you have spilled. But not one stung in your chest and lingered in your head like John Seed. It felt horrible to admit to yourself, that you felt bad for ending his life. Freeing countless people from the suffering he caused them, how could you be guilty?
You were a hero.
You had grown to hate that title. The word itself leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It felt so wrong, so, *so* wrong. Having his blood coat your palms didn't make you feel like a hero. You felt disgusting. This man tortured Joey, and *you* feel disgusting.
Maybe it's because you knew him better than the others you had struck down. Maybe the harsh reality that he was a person hit you right then and there. That everyone else you killed lived for years, felt happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, all these complex emotions. just for you to come along and never let them grow old enough to see themselves get grey hair.
Or was it because of something far more selfish? Maybe you didn't really care about those other people. They had taken lives themselves, after all. They're not any better than you, neither you are them.
There was a possibility that it could've been because you felt something for him. Something that you pushed deep down because you knew it was wrong. It was horrible. *He* was horrible. You chalked it up to being intrusive thoughts or some kind of Stockholm syndrome. You didn't want those feelings to be real. Cupid wasn't that cruel, was he?
You would avoid speaking about John to other people. People would congratulate you and praise you for killing him, it felt like a knife to the stomach. You would spend hours of the day begging God or whoever would listen to let everyone forget about him, including you.
One thing in particular sent you over the edge, you were already having a shitty day. Depression had you in its grip like a vice, when you were called down to the Seed ranch for whatever reason, you didn't even remember, it wasn't important. Just more work you had to do because you were apparently the only one who could do it. This was long after you had taken control of it, so it was surprising that you hadn't noticed that there was a message on the answering machine before.
You were bored, nosey and didn't have anything else to do as you were done working and everyone else had left for some event at Falls End, and you had already decided you were sleeping here for the night. So you give it a listen.
[I'll link a yt video of the recording in the comments♡]
It was from Joseph. Speaking to John, or who was supposed to be John, about his sin. That he's had visions of his death. That he's seen him die young.
You. That was because of you. You listened to the rest of the recording, unable to believe that you were breaking down at words that came out of Joseph Seed's mouth. This brought you right back to the moment you started feeling for him. When he was giving you that mock baptism, nearly drowning you.
You were fucked in the head, you *had* to be. But damn, at least he was passionate. The whole time you were fighting to get out of there you couldn't focus on anything but the way he held you down, and you were distracted on the helicopter ride back. You thought it was just the way you processed trauma, but boy were you wrong.
You asked yourself if John had been doomed to die from the moment he met you. Any other time you would've dismissed the thought, but now you seemed to actually consider it.
Straight back to that moment again. Those eyes, God, those eyes. No one ever looked at you like that. So hungry, like he wanted your whole being. You then remembered the moment you watched the light fade from those same eyes. All you wanted in that moment was him back. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care that he was a murderous, psychopathic, sadomasochist. You needed him.
You were curled up, with your knees against your chest, sitting on the floor with your head leaning against the edge of the table at this point. This was sick, you were sick. You still didn't care.
You missed him.
You missed everything about him. The way he got so angry and pissy at you. You'd kill the hear his voice once more. Even if he was screaming at you, you just want to hear him alive. You don't want it to be real. Part of you wishes it was you instead of him, at least you wouldn't have to live with this guilt.
You desperately wanted to stop thinking about this, you knew it was impossible, it loomed over you like a storm of your own creation. Or in this case, your destruction. But it couldn't hurt trying.
You reached into a satchel you carried and grabbed an old metal flask. You forgot where you got it from, Dutch probably gave it to you. You undid the lid, chugging the contents in little time. You didn't even know what was in it, hell it could've been horse piss but you'd drink anything to get him off your mind.
It burnt all the way down your esophagus, it felt like you were drinking rubbing alcohol. You honestly could've been, but that's not your main concern at the moment.
While you waited for it to kick in, it hit you that you shouldn't have done this. You have responsibilities, you don't have time to get drunk and depressed. What if Falls End got attacked while you were too busy being pathetic? God damnit, it was too late now.
It was about forty-five minutes later, the sun had set, and had you drank yourself into a drunken stupor. You were stumbling around the place, trying to find somewhere to pass out when one place in particular came to mind.
John's bedroom.
It had remained mostly untouched.
This was wrong, but once again, you didn't care. You cared even less when you laid down in his bed and it still smelled like him. That really strong cologne that made him smell like a stock trading douche bag. You loved it. The last time you smelled it this strongly was... Then.
But this time there wasn't the stench of sweat, blood, and gun powder to cover it up. And here you were, tainting it with the smell of alcohol. Your eyes watered a little bit. To your drunken self, it felt like he was there again. Alive.
You just closed your eyes and curled up in his bed, hugging one of the pillows tightly and shoving your nose into it. You wished it was him, you really did. You wished the last time you ran your fingers through his hair wasn't so you could pull his head back to beat his face in.
You wanted some way to apologize, but how would you apologize for that? What would you even say to him? "Sorry for killing you, it was for the best"? You eventually fell asleep thinking about this.
While asleep, you had a horrific nightmare. It felt like it went on forever, taunting you. Replaying that moment over and over. His screams getting louder and louder. You woke up three hours later, drenched in sweat, crying, and scared mostly sober. The dark room only illuminated by faint moonlight coming from the open windows you don't remember opening. The air was freezing against your damp skin.
You sat up in the bed that still reeked of him, and in your state of childlike fear that one is usually in after a nightmare, you just started apologizing to the air. Confessing every sin you have ever committed against him. Begging for forgiveness from someone who wasn't there.
Or so you thought.
"Now that is what I call a confession."
A voice rung in your ears so clear. It made every other noise stop, the faint sound of crickets chirping ceasing to exist. You frantically looked around the room, trying to find the source of the sound. It sounded like it was coming from the air itself. You swore you were going loony until a thump from the foot of the bed vibrated in your bones.
Your neck almost broke when you whipped it around to look. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust but it was unmistakable.
It was him.
Exactly how you saw him last.
Your heart beat against your sternum like a drum. There was this pressure in your head like you were underwater.
"No..it- you-.."
"What Deputy? spit it out."
Everytime he spoke it felt like you were being punched in the stomach. It took the air from your lungs. It took you what felt like hours to respond.
"You're not real, this isn't real. I- this is the bliss. Faith, she- this isn't-"
He shuts you up very fast.
"You yearn and pine for me to come back, you sleep in a dead man's bed just to feel like I'm still here, you almost drink yourself to death... I'm giving you exactly what you want and you refuse to believe it's real? It's very difficult helping someone who apparently rather wallow in their own suffering. You created it after all."
He made his way to the side of his bed sitting down at the end, staring dead into your face. A chill runs down your spine as a cold sweat envelopes your body. You dare not break eye contact or pull away from him. From what you can see, he's bloodied and filled with bullet holes. His key necklace hanging impossibly from his neck on a broken string.
"Not feeling well, Deputy? You're drenched, must be warm in here."
He casually took his jacket off, standing up, folding it and putting it on the bedside table. Sitting down again, this time closer.
He gives you a minute before speaking again.
"Well aren't you going to say anything? Surprising quiet for someone who was begging for forgiveness a few-"
"I killed you."
"Yes. You did."
You genuinely didn't know how to process this. You've seen terrible things everyday since you got here, but nothing has gagged you like this.
After a minute you crawled out of the blanket toward him. Sitting next to him silently. You didn't understand what was happening really. Was he a ghost? You didn't know, but it didn't matter.
You knew he hated you, but you wrapped your arms around him anyway. He was so cold.
You hung your head over his shoulder, one hand on the back of his neck. The other around his waist. You've been craving to do something like this since the second time you met in person.
He knew you missed him, he could feel that. But he asked anyway, just to hear that word come from your mouth.
"Did you miss me?"
"Yes."
He could anything he wanted out of you right now.
"Think about that feeling next time you kill."
His tone was a bit bitter but satisfied that he could torture you like this. When he died, he didn't expect you to be even a little guilty for killing him. But it seems your thoughtless killing, your Wrath, got to you eventually.
"I do, even when I don't."
He hummed in response. He was sure you did. You lived with a permanent reminder of him across your chest.
"Please stay."
You held onto him tighter, knowing he'd disappear.
"I can't. Not forever. These are the consequences of your actions, Deputy. Live with them."
You were about to respond before he finished a thought, vocalizing it.
Summary: the deputy gets real sad over a voice message, gets drunk, has a nightmare and is visited by the ghost of Christmas past(/j)
Info: Takes place about mid game, like half way through Faith's region if the order was John, Faith, Jacob. The reader is the Deputy.
Warnings: massive suicide and death warning. Not proof read/spell checked. Alcohol use, drug use mentioned, religious stuff obviously, guilt, moral issues, this is angst.
Since arriving in hope county you've had to kill lots of people. All kinds. The evil, the damaged, the near innocent. People who didn't belong in Eden's Gate, only there because of their own naivety or desperation. People who genuinely believed in Joseph and his teachings. People who only joined because they wanted to feel the rush in their veins as they watched the life fade from anothers eyes.
Hundreds of lives taken by your hand, so much blood you have spilled. But not one stung in your chest and lingered in your head like John Seed. It felt horrible to admit to yourself, that you felt bad for ending his life. Freeing countless people from the suffering he caused them, how could you be guilty?
You were a hero.
You had grown to hate that title. The word itself leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It felt so wrong, so, *so* wrong. Having his blood coat your palms didn't make you feel like a hero. You felt disgusting. This man tortured Joey, and *you* feel disgusting.
Maybe it's because you knew him better than the others you had struck down. Maybe the harsh reality that he was a person hit you right then and there. That everyone else you killed lived for years, felt happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, all these complex emotions. just for you to come along and never let them grow old enough to see themselves get grey hair.
Or was it because of something far more selfish? Maybe you didn't really care about those other people. They had taken lives themselves, after all. They're not any better than you, neither you are them.
There was a possibility that it could've been because you felt something for him. Something that you pushed deep down because you knew it was wrong. It was horrible. *He* was horrible. You chalked it up to being intrusive thoughts or some kind of Stockholm syndrome. You didn't want those feelings to be real. Cupid wasn't that cruel, was he?
You would avoid speaking about John to other people. People would congratulate you and praise you for killing him, it felt like a knife to the stomach. You would spend hours of the day begging God or whoever would listen to let everyone forget about him, including you.
One thing in particular sent you over the edge, you were already having a shitty day. Depression had you in its grip like a vice, when you were called down to the Seed ranch for whatever reason, you didn't even remember, it wasn't important. Just more work you had to do because you were apparently the only one who could do it. This was long after you had taken control of it, so it was surprising that you hadn't noticed that there was a message on the answering machine before.
You were bored, nosey and didn't have anything else to do as you were done working and everyone else had left for some event at Falls End, and you had already decided you were sleeping here for the night. So you give it a listen.
[I'll link a yt video of the recording in the reblogs♡]
It was from Joseph. Speaking to John, or who was supposed to be John, about his sin. That he's had visions of his death. That he's seen him die young.
You. That was because of you. You listened to the rest of the recording, unable to believe that you were breaking down at words that came out of Joseph Seed's mouth. This brought you right back to the moment you started feeling for him. When he was giving you that mock baptism, nearly drowning you.
You were fucked in the head, you *had* to be. But damn, at least he was passionate. The whole time you were fighting to get out of there you couldn't focus on anything but the way he held you down, and you were distracted on the helicopter ride back. You thought it was just the way you processed trauma, but boy were you wrong.
You asked yourself if John had been doomed to die from the moment he met you. Any other time you would've dismissed the thought, but now you seemed to actually consider it.
Straight back to that moment again. Those eyes, God, those eyes. No one ever looked at you like that. So hungry, like he wanted your whole being. You then remembered the moment you watched the light fade from those same eyes. All you wanted in that moment was him back. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care that he was a murderous, psychopathic, sadomasochist. You needed him.
You were curled up, with your knees against your chest, sitting on the floor with your head leaning against the edge of the table at this point. This was sick, you were sick. You still didn't care.
You missed him.
You missed everything about him. The way he got so angry and pissy at you. You'd kill the hear his voice once more. Even if he was screaming at you, you just want to hear him alive. You don't want it to be real. Part of you wishes it was you instead of him, at least you wouldn't have to live with this guilt.
You desperately wanted to stop thinking about this, you knew it was impossible, it loomed over you like a storm of your own creation. Or in this case, your destruction. But it couldn't hurt trying.
You reached into a satchel you carried and grabbed an old metal flask. You forgot where you got it from, Dutch probably gave it to you. You undid the lid, chugging the contents in little time. You didn't even know what was in it, hell it could've been horse piss but you'd drink anything to get him off your mind.
It burnt all the way down your esophagus, it felt like you were drinking rubbing alcohol. You honestly could've been, but that's not your main concern at the moment.
While you waited for it to kick in, it hit you that you shouldn't have done this. You have responsibilities, you don't have time to get drunk and depressed. What if Falls End got attacked while you were too busy being pathetic? God damnit, it was too late now.
It was about forty-five minutes later, the sun had set, and had you drank yourself into a drunken stupor. You were stumbling around the place, trying to find somewhere to pass out when one place in particular came to mind.
John's bedroom.
It had remained mostly untouched.
This was wrong, but once again, you didn't care. You cared even less when you laid down in his bed and it still smelled like him. That really strong cologne that made him smell like a stock trading douche bag. You loved it. The last time you smelled it this strongly was... Then.
But this time there wasn't the stench of sweat, blood, and gun powder to cover it up. And here you were, tainting it with the smell of alcohol. Your eyes watered a little bit. To your drunken self, it felt like he was there again. Alive.
You just closed your eyes and curled up in his bed, hugging one of the pillows tightly and shoving your nose into it. You wished it was him, you really did. You wished the last time you ran your fingers through his hair wasn't so you could pull his head back to beat his face in.
You wanted some way to apologize, but how would you apologize for that? What would you even say to him? "Sorry for killing you, it was for the best"? You eventually fell asleep thinking about this.
While asleep, you had a horrific nightmare. It felt like it went on forever, taunting you. Replaying that moment over and over. His screams getting louder and louder. You woke up three hours later, drenched in sweat, crying, and scared mostly sober. The dark room only illuminated by faint moonlight coming from the open windows you don't remember opening. The air was freezing against your damp skin.
You sat up in the bed that still reeked of him, and in your state of childlike fear that one is usually in after a nightmare, you just started apologizing to the air. Confessing every sin you have ever committed against him. Begging for forgiveness from someone who wasn't there.
Or so you thought.
"Now that is what I call a confession."
A voice rung in your ears so clear. It made every other noise stop, the faint sound of crickets chirping ceasing to exist. You frantically looked around the room, trying to find the source of the sound. It sounded like it was coming from the air itself. You swore you were going loony until a thump from the foot of the bed vibrated in your bones.
Your neck almost broke when you whipped it around to look. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust but it was unmistakable.
It was him.
Exactly how you saw him last.
Your heart beat against your sternum like a drum. There was this pressure in your head like you were underwater.
"No..it- you-.."
"What Deputy? spit it out."
Everytime he spoke it felt like you were being punched in the stomach. It took the air from your lungs. It took you what felt like hours to respond.
"You're not real, this isn't real. I- this is the bliss. Faith, she- this isn't-"
He shuts you up very fast.
"You yearn and pine for me to come back, you sleep in a dead man's bed just to feel like I'm still here, you almost drink yourself to death... I'm giving you exactly what you want and you refuse to believe it's real? It's very difficult helping someone who apparently rather wallow in their own suffering. You created it after all."
He made his way to the side of his bed sitting down at the end, staring dead into your face. A chill runs down your spine as a cold sweat envelopes your body. You dare not break eye contact or pull away from him. From what you can see, he's bloodied and filled with bullet holes. His key necklace hanging impossibly from his neck on a broken string.
"Not feeling well, Deputy? You're drenched, must be warm in here."
He casually took his jacket off, standing up, folding it and putting it on the bedside table. Sitting down again, this time closer.
He gives you a minute before speaking again.
"Well aren't you going to say anything? Surprising quiet for someone who was begging for forgiveness a few-"
"I killed you."
"Yes. You did."
You genuinely didn't know how to process this. You've seen terrible things everyday since you got here, but nothing has gagged you like this.
After a minute you crawled out of the blanket toward him. Sitting next to him silently. You didn't understand what was happening really. Was he a ghost? You didn't know, but it didn't matter.
You knew he hated you, but you wrapped your arms around him anyway. He was so cold.
You hung your head over his shoulder, one hand on the back of his neck. The other around his waist. You've been craving to do something like this since the second time you met in person.
He knew you missed him, he could feel that. But he asked anyway, just to hear that word come from your mouth.
"Did you miss me?"
"Yes."
He could anything he wanted out of you right now.
"Think about that feeling next time you kill."
His tone was a bit bitter but satisfied that he could torture you like this. When he died, he didn't expect you to be even a little guilty for killing him. But it seems your thoughtless killing, your Wrath, got to you eventually.
"I do, even when I don't."
He hummed in response. He was sure you did. You lived with a permanent reminder of him across your chest.
"Please stay."
You held onto him tighter, knowing he'd disappear.
"I can't. Not forever. These are the consequences of your actions, Deputy. Live with them."
You were about to respond before he finished a thought, vocalizing it.
Info: Reader has superpowers that fry their brains after fighting. (Partially based on that Pikachu guy from mha and Sage from the boys!!)
Summary: reader is an example of what NOT to do in the workplace/j after a particularly nasty fight their brain was fried like carnival food and they attack Cecil in the bathroom because that's a perfectly sane thing to do. They end up crying because daddy issues or something.
Warnings: brain damage mentioned, reader has a mental breakdown, out of nowhere love confession, pretty out of character I think, idk I'm bad at writing. Not spell checked.
Cecil had some... conflicting feelings about you from the start. Powerful fighter, does amazing in the field, gets along with most people, efficient. But.. all of that flew out of the window as soon as the adrenaline left your veins. It usually wasn't so bad, after a normal amount of use. Some basic confusion, slurring of the words here or there. But recently with the viltrumites, you've had to push yourself more and more. Training harder, fighting more. All of which on Cecil's orders, because he rather not have the world enslaved by space Nazis.
But all of this training and fighting has made your "episodes" more common and stronger. You'd always recover with no real brain damage, you're a superhero after all. But it has become increasingly annoying to deal with, for you and for Cecil. Mostly because you'd take your pain-drunk anger out on him everytime you got like that. It was like dealing with a toddler throwing a tantrum, but it's not like he could just fire you, you were one of their most powerful assets, and as long as you weren't murdering people, you were being helpful. So he just had to endure.
That leads you to today, after a particularly long and difficult fight, you went damn near braindead. Well.. not really, but you couldn't exactly string together sentences or recite your ABC's backwards. To put it bluntly, you were acting like you were blackout drunk.
You had somehow (with the help of a fellow hero) flown back to the GDA afterwards, to let the doctors there help with your brain damage and other injuries, but most importantly give that old man a piece of your mind... Again.
You had surprisingly not found Cecil in the monitor room, which is really weird because he's always working, day and night. So you ask Donald.
"Dooooonnnny, where's the old fart?"
You slurred, less angry sounding than you were. But Donald knew what you were here for, you wouldn't be asking for Cecil if you weren't here to harass him. So he just kept quiet, acting like he couldn't hear you.
You stare at him, getting real close and squinting, waving a hand in front of his face a few times.
"Helllloooooo??? Anyone in there? Did they take away your ear drums last time they put you back together?"
You were annoyed by the lack of reaction at first.
"That was a bit insensitive."
He responded calmly, not looking you in the eye. You made some weird growling noise.
"Fine! If it's bothering you so much I'll look for him myself..."
You huffed, crossing your arms. Donald sighed in response, knowing that would end in property damage.
"He's in the bathroom, down the hall."
He surrendered. In return you grinned.
"Thank you!"
"Wait,"
he grabbed your wrist.
"One more thing, please don't break anything. The building or him."
You rolled your eyes.
"No promises."
And with that you stumbled out of the room and down the hall to the men's bathroom. Where you busted the door open. Or tried to, because you can barely walk, it was more like a sad swing.
He was over by the sinks, washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face. He was probably exhausted. But it wasn't like you cared at the moment.
He looked ahead at the mirror to see who was entering in the reflection. He sighed when he saw it was you, grumbling something about "here we go again."
"You..!"
You slurred, lazily holding your hand up to point at him.
"What the hell do you want to berate me for this time?"
He questioned while grabbing a paper towel, not even looking at you, obviously annoyed by this whole routine. You rather quickly made your way over to him, turned him around, and shoved him into a wall, grabbing one of his wrists and pinning him there. Surprising him because you almost never got physical with your anger. Frankly it scared him quite a bit. But he didn't just teleport away, he wouldn't unless you got actually violent. Because he knew it would piss you off more if he ran away.
"[Name], let go of me, this is almost a textbook HR violation."
He demanded, trying to sound calm and add a little bit of dry humor to calm you, and himself, down.
"I don't want to."
You straight up refuse. In response he sighed.
"Well you're not going to get anywhere with violence, so I don't really see the point."
"..You're right"
he almost had to do a double take, he's not used to hearing those words from you out of all people.
You sit there for a few seconds in silence just staring at him with guilt written all over your face as you let go of his wrist, stepping back a little. Cecil broke the silence after finally processing the fact that you listened to him for once.
"Look, Kid, I just need you to calm down, okay?"
He coaxed, not wanting to waste this opportunity.
In this state, you had absolutely no emotional regulation. So the slightest little thing could set you off. And Cecil acting the slightest bit gentle with you made you tear up. You weren't sure why, you just weren't in a great headspace, especially after that fight. Or maybe you just had daddy issues and can't handle old men being nice to you, can never tell.
"...okay,"
You nodded, looking down and trying to rub the tears out of your eyes. But they just kept flooding out.
"I'm sorry, I don't know w-why I keep doing this... I don't hate you, Cecil, I jus--"
you choked on your sob.
"..I j-just--"
you couldn't get out the words, you didn't even know what words you were trying to say.
Cecil was sitting there, honestly confused and exasperated, maybe a little concerned. (The old fuck was definitely concerned.) You flipped like a switch. Were you bipolar? Borderline? Just emotional when your frontal lobe is scrambled like an egg? He'd have to have someone look into that. He'd definitely have to have someone look into why you reacted so strongly to his actions compared to that of your teammates. Monster girl could just insult you to your face in this state and you wouldn't care that much. Rudy could tell you good job and the most you'd give him is a thumbs up.
"[Name]."
He grabbed you firmly by the shoulders.
"It's okay. You're fine. Get it together."
Letting his guard down was his first mistake because immediately after he lifted his arms up you tightly wrapped yours around his torso, pulling him into a hug.
"ACK- Jesus Christ!"
He exclaimed in surprise. He genuinely thought that was the end of him for a second, life flashed before his eyes and all.
You buried your face in his neck, rubbing against him affectionately like a cat, calming down quite quickly. He cautiously placed a hand on your back, hugging back. Kinda.
"Warn me next time you do that, almost shit my pants in a bathroom."
He spoke shakily, still a little spooked. You didn't respond. This hug slowly became uncomfortably long, most hugs are uncomfortable for Cecil, but this was like getting a cornstarch massage while having a root canal done.
"Kid?"
He lifted his arm. Trying to move your head to get a look at at your face. Which didn't work, God damn super strength... You did however, peak out for a second because you thought he was trying to pet your head.
Perfect time for Donald to come in to check to make sure you hadn't murdered Cecil, a real picture he walked in on.
"Wow, uh, sir? Do you want me to call anyone--"
"Just go make sure the world isn't ending, Donald. I'm fine."
He said, pretty embarrassed, but then again worse has happened. Donald slowly backed out of the bathroom, disappearing down the hallway.
You lifted your head up, now looking at his face. Lifting one arm up to brush your hand against the one piece of skin on his face that was still his. You were kind of enthralled. Cecil on the other hand felt he was about to die. He wasn't really afraid, you were acting like he was a firefly in a jar, he was moreso... Flustered? If that was the word for it. He hasn't let anyone touch his real skin in a very long time. It felt intimate.
He didn't really hate it, which made him question some things about himself.
He cleared his throat.
"Let go of me.. please."
His plead actually got through to you this time because he could make eye contact with you. So yes, you gently (actually treating him like he could break. Y'know, like a normal human being.) let him go. Stared at him for a second before speaking once more.
"I love you."
Said quite blankly before you scampered off out of the bathroom. Leaving him standing there.
He looked less shocked when Omni-man went rogue.
Was he going to talk to you about this went you healed? No... Maybe? No, he shouldn't. it's unprofessional.
Summary: you give him reaaaallll bad gay panic, and you're his awakening... He's not sure how to feel about this
Warnings: Australians. a little bit of internalized homophobia and some homophobia from Lindsay(f slur), no visual description outside of reader being "strong" and possibly being taller than Reggie but that is NOT saying much. Reader is in on the whole chopping people up business. Reader gets shirtless. Lots of sweat mentioned. Implied jerking off. Shit plot, out of character, I was tired. Anddddd you can tell I really don't like Lindsay LOL (also not proof read)
Reggie had never questioned much about himself, usually just following orders, being what he thought he was supposed to be. Wanting to make Lindsay proud, or rather not wanting to piss him off too much.
When Lindsay hired you to help around the place, and with.. ahem, the business (and random chores), Reggie started questioning all sorts of things. Like why was his brother allowed to bring people around and let them in on the way they run the business, when he's not even allowed to say no to him? How'd they have the money to pay you? But most importantly, how has he never seen you before...? Everyone here knew each other one way or another, despite keeping to themselves. So where'd you come from?
Reggie was obviously a little suspicious of you, y'know, it's only been him and his brother for God knows how long. And you just come here acting so comfortable, it was off-putting too him. So much so that he'd spend more time watching you than we would working. Observing from afar or coming closer to "check on you" either to see how the work's going or if you need water. All of which was horse shit, he just wanted to observe all your little quirks, out of "suspicion" as if he thought you were a government spy, or was planning to rat them out.
He started to notice something small things about you, like how you carried your hips as you walked with something heavy in your arms. How you drank messily out of exhaustion, how water would drip from your chin onto your chest. The way you'd be dripping with sweat after a hard day's work, and how it seems like you could easily pick him up-- "Reg! Stop standing 'round with ya dick in ur hand and do some work! I'm heading out for a delivery!" Lindsay hollered, snapping Reggie out of his trance. "'Kay Linds!" He yelled back shakily, like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing and tried to play it off. He quickly hopped off the fence he was leaning on and gave him a wave goodbye, his heart rate still through the roof. He didn't really know why, must've just startled him.
You immediately took this as a sign to take a break from gardening and taking care of Lindsay's precious vegetables and to relax for a few minutes, maybe make some small talk with your second boss. You walk up next to him as his brother pulls away. "Hey Reg, what're you up to?" You ask, one hand on your hip opposite from him. "Oh y'know... Work." He acted innocent like he wasn't staring you down from over the fence while he thought you weren't looking.
"Yeah?" You tilt your head. "Yeah..." He responded, trying to be nonchalant.
"Y'know you don't need to hover over me all the time, you can trust me." You confronted his staring with a gentle tone, lord knows he doesn't need to be berated anymore. He immediately felt the burn of embarrassment and guilt. "I..erm.." his face became visibly flushed. He really didn't like the feeling, it was already burning hot in Australia. And he usually felt this way around women, which made this worse because it didn't make sense in his head. It was probably just the mixed emotions, I mean, he's always been nervy, is what he told himself. "It's just, it's hard to... It feels weird having you around here, like havin' a stranger come into your house and lay on ya bed." He completely avoided eye contact with you.
You hummed then put a hand on his shoulder. "I get that. I'm sure you'll get used to it soon, I'm just asking you to stop lurking around me. If you're that concerned, just strike up a conversation, alright?" You rub his shoulder a little while talking. Reggie felt something weird in his stomach when you did that, is his body confused or something? "Yeah, alright.." he said with a voice crack like a teenager.
He then realized how damp your hand was and turned to face you. "Blimey, you're sweating like a sinner in church!" He said with a small chuckle, moving the topic of conversation. You take your hand off his shoulder and look at yourself, you were infact soaked. "Oh damn, look at that, you're right.." you pause, peeling your shirt off with one movement. "I'm gonna go hose myself down if you don't mind." His mind goes blank as he just stares and finally realizes why he's so nervous around you. Even his damn ears went red. After a few seconds of silence he finally threw up an answer. "Y-y-yeah, you go, uh, do that. I really don't mind..!"
As you walked off and said something about reminding him to reapply sunscreen, he practically sprinted off to his trailer, locked the door and laid down in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Desperately trying to make this feeling go away. No matter how long he looked at the women in the magazines on the ceiling, he still saw you. Heard you voice, imagined your touch, smelled your scent. He tried shutting his eyes and covering his head with his pillow, but there you were. Like a parasite. What was wrong with him? For the longest time he thought he liked women. Well, he still likes women.. is that even allowed? Could you like both or was he confused? Should he ask Lindsay when he gets back? God, someone just make it stop, please.
Reggie sat up after a bit, feeling a little better... He spent the rest of the day thinking the hardest he could to try and rationalize what he felt as heterosexual, and inevitably failed. Then he spent the next day avoiding you like the plague until you went home.
The night of bad game of one sided hide and seek, while Lindsay was cooking, Reg worked up the courage to say something about it to his brother. "Uhm.. hey Linds?" "What?" His brother was chopping up some vegetables on an old wooden cutting board, the thing was probably older than their aunt. "So, uhhh. I've been thinking about something. I--" Reggie mumbled before getting cut off. "Spit it out, Reg." He said, already irritated by his stuttering and mumbling.
He said a quiet okay before taking a deep breath. "I.. I think I'm gay." "I know." What? Reggie was a little taken a back. "What do you mean you know?" He asked, the nervous feeling of nausea slowly creeping away. "Well look atcha first of all, faggie. Also you've been staring at our employee like he's a piece of eye candy. Hell, you'd probably watch him watch paint dry, and I'm sure you have." He spoke while chopping. Reg took a second to process that, and as he was about to talk his brother started speaking again. "What, did you just find out or something?" Lindsay joked, laughing a little, met with silence that made him look over at Reggie's face, which answered his question with just a glance. His brother took a second "no- oh my God, Reg!" He started cackling like a hyena. "You jackass!" He had tears of laughter at this point. "How the hell did I find out before you?"
Reggie badly wanted to tell Linds to shut up, but he knew that would end poorly so he just took it and sucked it up.
When you came back to work the day after, he continued to avoid you out of fear that he'll embarrass himself or somehow turn more gay. He still hasn't fully processed it. Why didn't he find men attractive before? Why now? Why you?
He was couped up in his trailer, hiding and thinking when you barged in. "Hey Reg, I've been looking for ya, where you've been?" You panted like you were running. Probably checking the trailer as a last ditch effort. He just stared again, either he forgot to lock the door or you'd be better off being a firefighter.
"Hey, uh, just taking a day off." He could barely get words out around you. It's like every bone in his body turns into jelly except for one. He wanted to vomit in a good way and a bad way. "You alright? You're shaking like a leaf." You pointed out with a little concern. It's not like you were his gay awakening standing in his wank trailer right in front of his bed. Noooooo, couldn't be. "No, I'm not.." he finally let his guard down a little.
You frown, "what's wrong..?" He takes a deep breath, he's not just going to tell you. "Just one of those days." You nodded with understanding. "Yeah... Oh, almost forgot." You step towards him, he looks at you with a bit of interest, wondering if you have something for him.
Apparently you did, he learned what you had for him after you grabbed his collar with one hand, yanking him up, cradling his face with the other hand, and kissing him so deeply it seemed like you wanted to eat him. When you finally reluctantly pulled away, he looked like he had horrible sunburn and kept stammering like he wanted to say something and the words were there but the sentences wouldn't form. "Lindsay told me." Of course he did.
