#i dont think the other two of toby's group were brought up *on* farms but they know what theyre doing in that regard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Denying Feelings on the Tiled Floor (Masky X F!Reader)

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: blood, angst]

[AN: I genuinely dont think I've posted this here before but it's from my quotev and I want it here lots of love <3]

Tim can’t really describe the first moment he knew he felt something for you, only that he did. And he knew the risks that came along with having such feelings.

Hanahaki, it’s a terrible disease, really. Instead of giving flowers to the person you love, you grow them in your lungs. If the person that you’re so willingly throwing your affections at doesn’t return them, you die. The flowers cloud your lungs and unfurl, sprouting and taking root as they invade your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe until you eventually choke.

He wasn’t supposed to have feelings for anyone, especially as a proxy and even more so as a respectable group leader. His job is to guide and lead, not feel softly for someone who might never return his feelings. Tim doesn't really think he even deserves to have these type of warm feelings, if he’s being honest.

Not after he failed to protect Brian. Not after he failed to protect Amy. Not after he failed to protect Sarah. Not after he failed to save Alex. Not after he barely managed to protect Jessica. And certainly not after he failed to do right by and protect Jay. His existence was always bound to be one of suffering, not warm feelings and sly glances at someone he feels so deeply for.

He supposes that’s where the Hanahaki comes in from. He can’t just have warm feelings, he must suffer for those two. The warmth he felt for you was at first a spark, small, floating on the wind from something greater and bigger than he could ever imagine. Then, it took hold on every part of him, consuming him until it was ablaze and the flames licked upwards to the heels of the sky.

It was something he never wanted to feel, something he wanted to shove back. But sometimes, it was pleasant, and sweet, and it lured him in like sailors to a siren song.

Sometimes it was just a little smile.

“Good work today,” Tim complimented as he patted your back, watching as you tiredly stumbled back into the house. “I wasn’t sure we were gonna be able to get that guy but you? You were on it.”

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled at him. “Thanks! He was a slipper bastard, but I make it work,” you giggled.

Tim chuckled and closed the door of the temp house his group was currently staying in. “Get some rest tonight, okay?”

“Why? We have something big tomorrow?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

He followed you into the kitchen, watching as you began to rummage in the fridge for something cold to drink. “No,” he started. “I just want you to get some rest.”

You poked your head from back out of the fridge, genuinely smiling at him. “Sure thing, Masky.”

His heart skipped a beat.

Sometimes it was your laugh.

It had just been you and Tim in the car coming back from a late night convenience store run. Apparently, the rest of your group wanted to have a movie night but the snacks were severely lacking.

There was music playing in the car but he hadn’t been focused on it all. In fact, he was more focused on you telling him things from your childhood.

“I can’t believe they just let us do that,” you had giggled. “I know senior pranks can get out of hand but I’m certain we cost them thousands in actual damage and even more in water damage.”

Tim chuckled and nodded. “I remember for our senior prank, Hoodie and I got the bright idea to steal three pigs from one of the local farms in the area with a group of other guys, and marked them with a one, two and four,” he explained, watching from the corner of his eye as you began to grin. “So, we let them loose in the school and of course, the staff and the students that weren’t in on the prank spent the entire day looking for pig three-” he’s barely able to get the rest of the anecdote out before you burst into laughter.

Tim’s heart grows softer as he joins you, fighting the desire to hold your hand. You sound so beautiful to him.

Tim knows he can’t deny his feelings. He couldn’t try any harder, and unfortunately for him, he has the inkling you don’t feel the same. It’s painful because he can feel the seeds of that terrible disease spreading further and further, consuming him slowly.

You’ve mentioned it before, not wanting to be in love. Not desiring a relationship and by extension, him.

“I just don’t think I’m up for those kind of things,” you said one night as the two of you say up on the roof together.

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “What makes you say that?”

You shrugged. “I’m a proxy, and I don’t think love is in the roster for people like us.” You giggled slightly and fixed your posture before shaking your head. “I think the only types of people who would work with people like us is people like us. But, even then, I think we’re way too emotionally unstable.” You then paused and looked over to your group leader. “What about you?”

Tim shrugged, a small, sad smile on his face. “I think I’m in agreement with you.” He said it, but he doesn’t mean it. He watched you carefully after he said it, looking for any signs that you wanted to challenge him, and when he didn’t see them, he felt the flowers bloom.

Coughing is absolutely normal for Tim. He’s handled the Operator’s influence for far longer than anyone should, which has been since his childhood. It’s just his body’s natural reaction to being poisoned all those years. But what wasn’t normal was when he started coughing up petals.

Oh how he hates the color pink now. Carnations. They’re pink carnations. He has no idea why they’re pink carnations as you have shown no type of fondness or specific admiration for the type of flower, but they smell so sweet and the color reminds him of you. He tries to smoke his cigarettes more and more in a vain attempt to smoke the roots that have taken hold in his lungs before they consume him in his entirety.

But he knows he won’t stop them, and that he won’t give into that surgery. What’s the use of living if you cannot have the feelings that come alongside it? All of the things that still make proxies human, life, death, love and birth - peace and war? Happiness when you laugh with friends, confusion, anger and somberness. It’s worth it. Every single part of it is worth it. He doesn’t want to lose the warm feelings he has to you either,

Even if it kills him.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed Tim coughing up pink carnations. The way the sparsely blood covered flowers find their ways into vases or in the trash have been greatly concerning you, and as far as you can tell, it’s not from Toby, Brian, or Kate. The only habitual cougher is Tim, and that makes you concerned.

You don’t know how to feel about Tim most days, but you know it’s something sweeter than what should be allowed as a proxy. You’re finally making your decision when you think you’ve almost lost him.

It’s a warm summer night when you finally come to terms with how you feel. You’ve just returned from some kind of ‘cooperation mission’ with Eyeless Jack and Jeff and you are more than exhausted after the mess you had to put up with.

“Anyone home?” You call out. From the kitchen, you can smell fresh pastries. Looks like Kate and Toby have been baking again. You follow the scent and see platters of brownies, cookies and other sweets laid out on the countertops with little sticky notes telling you to only take from the brownies - the rest are for other proxy groups and independents.

You’re just about to pluck one of the fresh brownies when you hear coughing. It’s soft at first, thick, but sounds like normal Tim coughing. You wonder if you should head over and see if there’s anything he needs. “Masky?” You call out again.

He coughs again. “What?” He sounds exhausted.

“Do you need some water?”

“No, I don’t-” he begins to cough violently, and you swear you can hear something falling to the floor as he does so. Tim rumbles around his room, crawling out of bed as he continues to violently cough and to the bathroom.

Worried, you exit the kitchen hastily to see what’s wrong just to see him slinking into the bathroom. “Masky? What’s going on?” You ask in a growing concerned tone, walking down the darkened hall to where the bathroom light shines from under the door.

And there you see it, flowers. Pink in color, carnations. They’re soft under your shoe as opposed to the hardwood. You feel the blood run cold in your veins. “Tim? Tim? Tim, you gotta open up please-” you rush out as you begin to pound on the door.

“Don’t you dare!” He snarls, pushing his weight against the door, still coughing. “I don’t need your hel-” he practically coughs up his lungs as he falls to the floor.

You panic. “Shit, shit, shit!” You cry out as you lean back in the hallway. “I’m coming in!” You know he can’t really hear you as he continues to hack out his lungs, but you kick the door in, bursting it from its hinges. You catch it and practically tear it out of the frame before shoving it back into the hall.

You widen your eyes upon seeing the state of Tim and immediately fall downwards, your hands sliding over his trembling form. There’s blood all over the sink, the mirror, even some of the sub and on the floor. The red drops leave trails down his mouth like snail trails. “Oh my gods,” you murmur as you rest his head on his lap, stopping his skull from knocking around on the tile floor.

“You shouldn’t-” he coughs more. “You shouldn’t be in here!” He’s not able to reprimand you because he’s practically puking up a bouquet.

“Nonsense,” you shrug off, trying to bring him comfort. “What the hell brought this on?” Your fingertips gently trace around his mouth and help claw the budding flowers out. You’ve never hated carnations so much until now.

Tim glares up at you before closing his eyes in pain, feeling the flowers cloud his lungs further. “It’s nothing-”

“Does this look like nothing?” You sound so cross, but it’s just because you’re so worried about him.

A long, pregnant pause passes between the two of you.

You continue to pull the blossoms from his mouth before looking over his form, seeing how his hand is slowly reaching up for yours. “Tim…”

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to-”

You shake your head, your hand reaching out to hold his. You grip him before taking his hand warmly up to the side of your face, allowing him to caress your cheek. “Don’t.”

“But it’s true,” he barely manages to wisp out. “I never meant to throw this onto you,” he finishes before weakly coughing up more petals and full budding flowers. He can barely breathe now.

You sigh as you press his hand up to your cheek just a little firmer, letting him feel your warmth before you softly pull him back. “Open your palm, please,” you say softly as your free hand fishes out yet another bundle of carnations.

He weakly nods, closing his eyes and giving into his labored breathing as his lungs compete with the roots and sick blossoms for air.

You sigh once again, a small smile crossing onto your face before you plant a kiss on the center of his palm, remaining for just a moment before allowing him to pull away all on his own. “You always had me you idiot,” you whisper as you watch his fingers curl inwards, gripping the kiss that you had just planted.

Tim looks up at you, starry eyed before resting his hand on your cheek again.

The garden in his lungs begins to wilt.

#masky #masky x reader #masky headcanon #masky x y/n #tim wright #tim wright x reader #tim wright headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta masky x reader #creepypasta scenario #angst with a happy ending #angst #hq angst

118 notes · View notes