Authors notes: Second one to post a fan fic of this guy from what I know. Tumblr, step up your game and write about the chill man who love gardening but will execute you if you step on their grass.
------
GROUNDSKEEPER X READER
Title: Someone has a crush on little old you...
RANK: Platonic, crush is implied.
Gore/violence?: None.
Trigger warnings: Use of a scythe to remove weeds... Does that count?
Sheers and a Skeleton key got you here, the crisp moist air filling your lungs instead of stale hotel air... it was refreshing, the sound of birds, air, and distant thunder. The way the trees swayed with the wind, how the air also seemed to smell of freshly cut grass everywhere you went. You were careful of the weird ant hill looking things as well, learning from last time that those things will turn your feet into swish cheese.
There were these weird... Turnips? Beets? All you knew is that they loved crying until you put them back into the hole they popped out of. But this once gods forsaken turnip wouldn't stop, you couldn't find where the vine led to, which the constant wailing made you feel funky. Your vision slowly became darker. The air felt colder as your body temperature rose, a pain in your body that felt like no other.
Something came running to, a tiny jungle of keys was second to the wailing of the screaming turnip. Then the screaming stopped, your vision was still wonky as well as your temperature. But thunder was coming in fast, and you could hardly see nor move. You felt like you where being picked up or dragged somewhere.
The air felt warmer, you don't know where you where, all you knew is that you felt much better than before. Shifting on a.. bed? with two blankets under you, and one thin one on top. Once you came to, you saw a nice little fire place full of wood, it smelled like burning pine and stew? You stumbled up before a old voice was faster then your groggy speed.
"Slow your roll there kiddo, the stew ain't goin' nowhere."
At first you were confused, a much older man? Was it a man? Maybe? It was a short black figure with a cowboy hat on, and a little red hanker cheif on arounf his neck. He hand you over a little bowl of stew on a table beside you, letting him sit down on a rocking chair. He wasn't that far away from you, which both eased you and worried you.
"Ah, don't worry bout lil old me, can't do much at this old age. Call me grampy kiddo"
His chuckle felt like honesty, you were going to ask some questions, and you only got a few before he fell asleep. You were at The Mill, his and his Sonny's home... who was this Sonny? Was it his son? Grandson? nephew? Turns out it was the Grounds keeper, big dude with a scythe, like one that you saw outside of an outhouse on your way here. He wouldn't hurt you as long as you didn't step on the grass, helped you when you got those mandrakes screaming in your ears... which... was it the one who got you here?
You heard the crunching of gravel, something was coming near you, but you were too weak to even move. You simply accepted your fate as entity chow. But - it was the Groundskeeper. It didn't seem to mind you there, only grunted when the two of you locked eyes. Seeming acknowledged your existence, it put down the massive scythe by the entrance, by a bunch of other tools. It seemed tired, grabbing a large bowl and getting some stew, which reminded you of your own stew as well.
At least it didn't burn your mouth when you ate it. It walked over to a chair opposite side of the fireplace of Grampy, sitting down to eat. It mask dropped to its neck so it could consume the stew... it tasted really good too, probably because you haven't eaten in a few hours. The two of you sat in silence, it rarely looked at you. Not wanting to look at you with its mask down. It got up unexpectedly, the both of you had finished your stews a while ago, and it walked towards you, standing over you for a moment, it pointed at your bowl with a grunt... you where confused until it opened its hand to you. Wanting to take the bowl, which you gave it to it.
The rest of the time was filled with silence and comfortable silence, which made you all sleeping, henceforth passing out again under the toasty light of the fire. It seemed to look at you when you were asleep, how the fire lined your face so well, how at peace you seemed to be, and how your eyes were so heavy with tiredness... it made his cold face warm up, quietly grunting at its own ideas of what such feelings were...
had a silly lil idea at 3 am if you wouldn’t mind … :-3
when the player finishes the eyestalk chase they accidentally twist their ankle or something along those lines, groundskeeper notices them constantly tripping and almost falling on the grass and sends them to like cabin time out or something. LOL
It was about time i locked in and finally bring myself to write for your request. I apologize for the wait. Honestly, i lost track of time! Hope you enjoy!
"TOO STUBBORN"
So divine, it shines so bright. In the darkest corners, a faint trace of light gleams through the shattered cracks. A beautiful hue of blue, yellow brings the spark within your eyes.
Hope is what increases your chances of surviving. No matter the species, anyone clings to hope. A rat would cling to hope. Once a godly hand reached down from above to help it take a deep breath, the rodent will not succumb. It will not be tempted with an easier escape - despite being stuck, tortured, exhausted - it will persist in a seemingly dire situation.
Pull yourself together.
You could have lost an arm, a leg, a finger or chipped a tooth. Worse case scenario – you could have lost your life, and you could have been sent straight back to the starting point. Down to zero! Back in that elevator with a ding so shrill that even thinking about it causes you to physically recoil.
By God’s will, you didn’t die! No limbs were ripped away from you. Sure, you still got your guts, maybe a few scratches. At least, you didn’t bleed to death? A more cruel and brutal fate could have squeezed the soul out of you, so don’t complain. Don’t whine, don’t cry. It’s all a waste of energy.
When push comes to shove, you get back on your feet. Wouldn’t you know it, you are a mouse in this perverse game. What do you know? They’re hunting you down for sport. You are a runner, running towards that finish line.
But, you know how game shows are. They cannot go without accidents.
You lived, and for that your ankle is sprained. The higher ups are having a thrill watching you, aren't they? Your fate had been already sealed the second you stepped foot in their own crafted freakshow, thrown into a pit of hungry monstrosities. You are really no different than a lab rat, subjected to endless maltreatment until you reach a breaking point. But, who’s to say that you haven’t gone mad? Do you feel anything anymore? You barely remember what person you used to be. Have you lost your worth? Aren’t you reduced to nothing?
You hiss in pain.
You drop down onto the floor. You drop down a lot, in fact. Your so called hero – the groundskeeper – saved you from being slaughtered from the log, although you barely managed to make it out alive in the first place. Truly, it was a miracle. During your “cat-and-mouse”, you tripped and your ankle suffered the consequences. The throbbing pain has not stopped since.
You try to not put any weight on your injured ankle. Nonetheless, you fall relentlessly. Each time you yelp, each time you collapse - the groundskeeper is compelled to witness the sad state you’re in. You cannot even walk, how are you supposed to march forward? Let alone remain alive? The fraud obelisks, the mandrakes, the lighting bolt… All of them require movement.
Little did you know, the groundskeeper is standing above you. They had enough of you, most likely. You keep distracting them from their work, they cannot focus with you desperately crawling, along with your frail attempts. The groundskeeper knows that you need rest, though you are too stubborn for your own good. There’s nothing wrong with not giving up, but what you’re doing is going to cause you more harm than good. The last straw was when you almost fell on the grass. Before you could notice them, they effortlessly lifted you up and threw you on their shoulder. It certaintly caught you off guards since you were wrapped up in your own suffering.
You can’t tell where they’re carrying you. You do not move an inch, you’re limp. If the groundskeeper wanted you dead, they would’ve ended you by now. So, you know you shouldn’t fight back. At last, you hear the groundskeeper’s boots step on wood. Then, a door creak… Shuffling… Something is being dragged? Grunting, keys jingling… That’s nothing new.
The groundskeeper places you down, quite harshly. You watch as they move backwards, point at you with their scythe and afterwards they tap the wooden floor with their blade. They storm off outside, slamming the door behind them.
You look at your surroundings. Obviously, you’re in a cabin, and… You’re sitting in a chair… In the corner…
