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#and as soon as the door opens Tim begins explaining everything
fluentmoviequoter · 16 days
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Finally Home
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!military doctor!reader (r is Lucy's adopted sister)
Summary: You enlist your boyfriend Tim to help you surprise your (adoptive) sister Lucy after being deployed for several months.
Warnings: brief angst and depictions of loneliness/depression, then lots of fluff!
Word Count: 1.6k+ words
Picture from Pinterest
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
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Being adopted into the Chen family continues to be the best thing that ever happened to you. It didn’t help your shyness much, but the love and sense of belonging you’ve found outweigh all the bad you’ve experienced. When you joined the military, becoming a military doctor, you overcame your shyness enough to be a great doctor. However, when you stop being a doctor, you’re back to the shy sister Lucy knows and loves.
The last time you were stateside, you met Tim Bradford and fell for him quickly. During the six months you were home, Tim learned nearly everything there is to know about you, and he loves all of you.
Now, in your seventh month stationed in Europe, you look forward to your weekly call home. You call one of two numbers: Tim or Lucy. They’re always together when it’s time to answer, so you know you’ll get a chance to talk to both of them and grow shy from across an ocean. Your dog is sitting beside you as the call begins.
“Hey, sis!” Lucy greets happily when the line connects.
The picture is blurry today, but you smile when you see your sister. She’s in her uniform, in an empty office at the police station. Being seven hours ahead means you usually catch her or Tim while they’re at work.
“Hi,” you answer. “Is Tim there?”
“He’s actually on patrol,” she answers. “I’m sorry; there’s a huge problem here right now so they’ve got a ton of people out there.”
“That’s okay. How are you?”
Lucy looks up when a door opens and turns the computer away.
“I’m pretty good. I want to hear about you, though, because not much has changed here.”
“Move,” Tim demands.
You can only see his hand as he reaches for the computer, and you duck away from the camera as they compete for your attention.
“Chen,” Tim says.
“Which one?” you ask.
“The one whose badge I can take. Just let me say hello.”
“Why don’t you just sit together?” you suggest. “Not to say I don’t enjoy this.”
Tim huffs as he pulls a chair beside Lucy, forcefully turning the computer so you can see both of them. He smiles, and you forget what you were going to say.
“Any word on when you’ll be home next?” Lucy asks.
“Nothing. I’m hoping to hear something soon though. There isn’t much happening, so they’ll probably need to move me soon anyway.”
“Then they should let you call more often,” Tim comments.
“I agree. I miss you.”
Tim elbows Lucy gently.
“She meant both of us,” Lucy argues. “Didn’t you?”
You nod and look up suddenly.
“I have to go,” you explain. “I’m so sorry. I love both of you and I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.”
“I love you,” Tim replies.
“Love you, sis. Be safe,” Lucy adds just before the call ends. “I miss her, Tim.”
“I know.”
Lucy continues staring at the blank screen, and Tim asks her about something he noticed days ago.
“What’s going on?”
“I just- I’m sad all the time. I don’t know if it’s just because she’s gone because I’ve been dealing with her deployments for years, but the only thing I want, have wanted for weeks, is to see her. It’s hard doing everything without her when she’s the only person I want to share things with.”
“I’m sorry, Lucy.”
“Bradford, Chen, we need you back out there when you’re done. This crime spree is getting worse each time we try to make progress,” Wade says.
“Lets go, well ride together,” Tim offers.
“Like the good old days!”
“I hope not exactly like those.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Superiors are giving you a choice,” your MC commander begins. “Transfer to Germany or temporary leave before being stationed in Fort Bliss, Texas.”
“What would I be doing in Texas, sir?” you ask.
“Continued training and teaching, mostly. And the temporary leave is only two months, but after all this time in Europe I assume you’d return to sunny Los Angeles.”
“I’d like to take the Fort Bragg position, sir.”
“Okay, I’ll let the Surgeon General’s office know. I’m sorry to have interrupted your call; video broadcast has ended, but if you’d like to make a phone call, share the good news, go ahead.”
“Thank you, sir.”
You walk into a private office, dialing Tim’s number and hoping he’s alone. Lucy has been down the last two times you’ve talked. She hides it well, but you’re her sister and can see through her.
“Bradford,” Tim answers.
“Chen,” you reply. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah, I am. What’s going on?”
“Is my sister okay? She’s seemed really sad.”
Tim sighs before he answers, “She misses you. A lot.”
“Then I need your help with something. I’m coming home.”
“When?” Tim asks. “I mean, I’ll help you with anything, but I’m so happy to get to see you again.”
You press your lips together, feeling heat rising in your cheeks.
“I should be there in a week or so, but I’ll let you know a date when I have one.”
“Okay. And the help?”
“I want to surprise Lucy. Any ideas?”
“Well, there is a restaurant she can’t stop talking about.”
“Tim? I’m going to be home for two months.”
“I get you for two months?”
“I can’t wait,” you answer sarcastically.
“Give me a date and time and I’ll get Lucy there.”
“Will she get suspicious?”
“Who do you think I am? She won’t have a clue.”
✯✯✯✯✯
A week later, Lucy has been checking her phone nonstop. She hasn’t heard from you since you abruptly ended the last call, and her concern and sadness about missing you are beginning to overflow. All of her fellow cops have noticed, so when you call and ask a few of them to meet at Lucy’s favorite restaurant to cheer her up, they happily agree.
“Get ready,” Tim demands at the end of the shift. “We’re going to dinner.”
“Why?” Lucy asks.
“Because we’re both worried and need a distraction. She’s fine, but you’re going to make yourself sick worrying like this, Lucy.”
“Okay. Give me ten minutes. Where are we going?”
“Your favorite.”
Lucy smirks as she walks to the locker room. Tim checks his phone but hasn’t received any message saying you landed.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Easy, boy,” you whisper, patting your dog over the Military K-9 vest as the plane lands.
The other passengers are kind enough to let you get your duffel bag and exit the plane first, rushing to the car rental counter and leaving for the restaurant. You’re running late, and don’t even think about letting Tim know you’re back in Los Angeles. As you park, seeing the ‘Service Animals Welcome’ sign on the door, you realize you forgot to tell Tim your dog is with you.
“Let’s go introduce you to my family.”
Pulling your phone from your pocket, you call Tim.
“Hey,” he answers. “I don’t have long before your sister shoves me over a balcony to talk to me.”
“Patio?” you ask, smiling.
“Yep.”
“I’ll be over in a minute.”
“Is that my sister?” Lucy asks, attempting to pull Tim’s arm away from his ear to take the phone.
“Tim, I have to go. I love you. Tell Lucy I said hi,” you say before ending the call.
✯✯✯✯✯
Lucy sits down, dejected. She tries to enjoy the appetizers and her friends sitting around her, but she wishes you were at the party. The door opens, and Lucy glances over before picking up her head and giving her full attention to the person walking through the door. Her jaw drops as she watches you walk toward her, a dog at your side. Lucy’s shock turns to a smile as she jumps from her seat to hug you. As you return her hug, smiling as you whisper how happy you are to see her, Tim’s hand covers yours as he takes the leash from you.
“Hey, bud,” he says to the dog. “Lucy, could I get a turn?”
“No,” she says against your shoulder.
“Hi, Tim,” you greet, turning your face away when he smiles.
“Hiding from my smile,” he muses. “Can you survive two months with me?”
“Two months?!” Lucy repeats, pulling back.
“I like your dress,” you murmur, seeing her for the first time in too long. “And, yes, I have two months of leave before I move to Fort Bliss.”
“Where is that?”
“Texas.”
“You’re staying stateside?” Tim interjects, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You shrug, turning in his arms to hug him.
“Welcome home,” he says, kissing your jaw as his arms tighten around you.
“Thanks for helping me with the surprise.”
“I’ll always be here with you.”
“So will I!” Lucy adds.
“Are you going to fight to hug me now?” you ask.
“Yes!” everyone at the table answers.
“And you brought a dog!” Lucy cheers, lowering her hand to pet your dog.
“I love you,” Tim says, pulling a chair out so you can sit between him and Lucy.
“I love you,” you reply softly. “I have one more thing I didn’t tell you, though.”
“What?” Lucy and Tim ask together.
“The position I took is a teaching job, so I’ll have more time to visit.”
They hug you simultaneously, no longer fighting over who gets to go first. You drop your chin towards Tim’s arm and smile. When your dog puts his paws in your lap and joins the hug, you know you are finally home. Sitting at a table with the two people you love most in the world, you know the next two months will be amazing, even if you're shy the entire time.
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ramsywasalittlelamb · 17 days
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cover up and say goodnight, say goodnight
a batfamily agere fic! 2.7k words, fluff! warnings for mentions of nightmares and fear toxin, never goes in depth!
hello!! ive been super inactive as of late for a multitude of reasons, but mostly bc ive gone back into spy mode of having an online existence lol enjoy the fic! (better to read on ao3 imo!) lmk if i need to add any warnings!
pinterest photo links 1 2 3, title from this must be the place by talking heads!!
First it was Tim.
He had been taken off duty mid-patrol after a dose of fear toxin had been administered to him and possibly Jason. Even though he argued that he was fine, he took an antidote, and they should be more worried about Jason, Bruce persisted until Tim resigned for the night and retreated back to the cave.
He would never admit that his hands trembled with the scenes flashing in his mind on the back of his eyes each time he blinked for a second. 
He would never admit that the hug he received from Alfred upon arriving made him tear up underneath the mask.
He would never admit that in the middle of the night, the lonely openness of the room and the creak in the hallway floorboards began to scare him enough to not sleep, prompting him to go to Bruce’s room because Bruce’s room was safe. Because Bruce was safe.
Bruce squinted in the darkness of his room when a weight dipped his mattress, beginning to sit up to ask what was wrong or if someone was hurt, but soon settled back down when he saw a teary eyed Tim crawling into the bed with Aurora tucked between his arms in a tight hug, thinking he hadn’t woken Bruce up.
Bruce would never admit that Tim woke him up.
Next it was Damian.
He had come home later than Drake but earlier than the others for school purposes, getting enough sleep the night prior was valued for the loud and noisy classmates he had to put up with for a majority of his day, along with getting his homework done on time for the next day.
He had finished his schoolwork, freshened up, and followed his usual routine for the weekdays, ready to sleep.
Except.. something was off.
He had traced back everything he did, and everything he did was in the correct order and routine…
Oh, his pacifier was missing from his bedside table. He must have left it in father’s bedroom from the previous night.
He folded back his covers and trotted down the hall, narrowly avoiding the loud spots on the floor and opening the door to father’s room, only to see Drake and father slumbering.
He continued forward, passing the empty and inviting spot on one of father’s side to grab his pacifier and return back to his bed.
But he paused, eyes and mind darting between the open slot on the mattress and the half open door, revealing the nightlights placed throughout the hall.
Bruce would never be able to explain the selfish disappointment he felt when he heard the door close, only for a burst of joy to replace and erupt in his chest when he felt Damian snuggle against his side, the pacifier knocking against his shoulder in a rhythmic motion.
This time, it wasn’t Jason.
He had been having nightmares on repeat— as if that was new,— the way he had been carrying himself and working the past few nights had been concerning at the very least. Everyone had noticed, but didn’t bring it up, until Dick came over from Bludhaven and took him aside.
Jason had admitted to not having great sleep recently, but had argued that, once again, it wasn’t new to him. He could work it out, push through. And once the nightmares have made their run, everyone can carry on their merry way.
Of course, nothing ever worked out that way for anyone in this family.
His head felt full of just.. a feeling of disturbance, followed by the fact that he was distracted by how his left arm and right leg weren’t cooperating with him, one of scarecrow’s men had whacked him square in the head, sending him to the ground.
The rush of cold air flowing through a crack on his mask hit his face, everything felt so far away. Why does everything feel so fuzzy? Why is someone yelling in my ears? Why are there so many sounds?
The hands under his armpits dragging him from his spot on the floor cut him out of his thoughts, his eyes burning along with his lungs, the loudness in his ears was just too much. He struggled against the hands dragging him, effectively flipping on his stomach and away from the person.
He blinked heavily up at the person, his vision swimming as he squinted at them. Dick? Tim? Bruce? None of those options sounded great to deal with right now.
Next thing he knew, he was jolting awake with panic and fear seizing in his chest, an overwhelming feeling of everything crashing into his system. He wasn’t in his room, he wasn’t even in a safe house, this was the manor.
With remnants of the nightmare leaping around in the fog of his mind, he clutched the sheets closer to him as he tried to move off the bed, but his limbs didn’t want to cooperate. His knees hit the cold floor with a whimper leaving his mouth, tears filling up his eyes quickly as he sat in his own misery.
Then it was Cass.
She almost always sought someone out for cuddles during the night, regressed or not. It was comforting being wrapped up in someone’s arms, but just like tonight, sometimes it was because it just got really cold and lonely in the manor.
Tucking her big bird plush in her arms as she wrapped her fluffy blanket around her shoulders, she ventured out into the hall.
Her hand was on the handle of Bruce’s door, when something felt.. off… There was an icy ache of worry forming in her chest, something in the back of her head to look around first.
Listening to her instincts, she checks all the rooms, some of them missing their owner, making her smile knowing she’ll have more people to hug tonight.
Two rooms, side by side, had light coming from underneath the door. Dick was awake, which was no surprise seeing as he slept until five in the afternoon, but Jason being awake set off the alarms in her head.
Opening it slowly to let him know she was entering, and thankfully not receiving a request to leave, she saw Jason sitting beside his bed with his face hidden by his arms resting on his tucked up knees. The blankets tossed around and his pillow shoved between the wall and mattress. Clearly not a restful night.
She sat beside him, at a distance for his comfort, allowing him all the space and time he needs, but letting him know she was there. She would always be there for them.
“Nightmare.” Jason grumbled, his voice muffled by his position. She hummed, nodding even though she knew he couldn’t see it. She knows how terrible nightmares can be, she also knows how badly they affect everyone in the family differently. Some had gotten used to them and could shake them off easier, meanwhile others couldn’t even close their eyes without an image of the bad dream reappearing.
“It sucks and— and it’s frustrating! I know I get them, and they still get me shaken up when it happens, and it sucks!” He says, throwing his head back against the mattress, letting his arms fall to his side.
Hm, regressed.
She takes big bird from her arms and places him into Jason’s lap. If he helps her take her mind off bad things, he should help Jason do the same.
“Big bird? What am I supposed to do with it?” He wipes his nose with his sleeve with a small scowl and questioning look at the plush.
“Him.” She corrects, “Hug.”
He pauses, looking between Cass and Big bird, before picking up the stuffed animal and hugging it, releasing a breath of what seemed like relief.
“Come.” Cass says after letting Jason have a moment of peace with big bird, standing up and reaching a hand out for Jason to take.
He takes it, the two of them walking hand in hand a little further in the hallway to Bruce’s room. Jason pauses at the doorway, but Cass pats his hand, nodding with encouragement.
Cass lays with her back to Tim, scooting as close as she can to make room for Jason— though that’s not too hard with how large Bruce’s bed is. Jason shuffles hesitantly, tucking his head under Cass’s chin and allowing himself to be hugged by her, whilst hugging big bird in his arms.
She won’t be cuddled tonight, but she’s always willing to repay what the others have given her.
“G’night, love you.” He whispers to her, nuzzling further against her in search of comfort.
“Love you too.” She murmurs back, a smile etched on her face as she drifts off.
After hearing a few doors and very quiet talking, Duke decides to get up from his bed of misery.
He had tried making it more comfortable over the time he’s been here, but sometimes nothing would shake the feeling of homesickness he still felt.
Plus, that fuzzy feeling— regression, he reminds himself— keeps making it hard to do anything but lay down and cry in his own sadness, curled up with his all too cold blankets and in want of a hug.
But it’s late, everyone is probably settled back down for the night and— and he couldn’t just bother anyone for a hug anyway. He’s new to this family, the dynamic, and he just.. he didn’t slide in perfectly like a puzzle piece yet.
Sure, he was close with them and he talked to them like family, but everything was still new and he continued to find out more things. Not only about them, but himself too.
And right now, he just feels small, tired, and homesick.
Though.. Tim did tell him that if he ever felt in need of a hug, no matter the time, Bruce will always be willing to give one to him— Perks of being the new kid, Bruce couldn’t really get angry with you, Dick added. And Bruce did give some good hugs.
It wouldn’t hurt to try.
He picks himself off the bed and goes down to the end of the hall to Bruce’s door. He can hear Bruce snoring on the other side, the sound of the sheets rustling every now and then. Maybe Bruce was just an active sleeper.
He opens the door and…
Pretty much everyone is already in the bed, like a secured spot dedicated to each and every one of them. Ouch.
His bottom lip begins to wobble as his eyes well with tears. It’s not that serious, really, but seeing all the others so adjusted and comfortable to do this like it’s a routine, meanwhile he still feels like he’s intruding on everything.. It’s isolating, to say the least.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at the absolute cozy and familial scene in front of him, watching like an outsider, like it’s a paused screen.
Dick hears the door to Bruce’s door open for the umpteenth time tonight, but he never hears it close. 
Odd.
He clicks off his phone, peeking his head out quietly to investigate and Duke is standing at Bruce’s door, teary eyed, fidgeting with the frayed hoodie strings.
Alarms go off in his head immediately. Duke never seeks out Bruce in the middle of the night like this, and he certainly has never seen Duke come to anyone crying, so something must’ve happened.
He walks over, his steps unintentionally quiet until he purposefully makes a floorboard creak under his weight. Duke jumps at the noise and stares wide at Dick.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Dick whispers, bending over a little to get more eye-to-eye with Duke, reaching over to pull the bedroom door nearly closed to block the sound of them talking.
Duke glances between Dick and inside the room through the small crack, biting on his lip before shaking his head, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie. “‘M fine.” He says wetly with a sniffle. Very convincing.
“Duke, if something is wrong, you can let me or anyone one of us know. We won’t judge you or tell another person.” He assures, trying so hard to get concern across and not worry and panic in his expressions.
Duke hesitates, “I’m jus’ not feeling good. Sad.” He says, his bottom lip quivering as more tears well up. “Jus’ wanna hug.” He says in such a pitiful way, Dick thinks his heart just got torn then ripped out of his chest.
“Oh, lightning bug, I’d be more than willing to give you a hug— any of us would be.” He says, opening his arms for Duke to crash into, to which he promptly does. Tears soak through Dick’s shirt, though he doesn’t really care at the moment because his baby brother is sad, and he can’t have that.
“Did you want a hug from Bruce?” Dick asks after a few beats, he needs to figure out why the kid was just standing there. Duke nods against his chest. “Okay, so why didn’t you go in and get one, bug?” Duke hesitates again, holding Dick tighter.
“Didn’t feel right. Everybody is asleep ‘n cozy and.. I’d just be bothering them.” Duke says, muffled against Dick’s chest. “It’s scary being the new kid.” He says, moving his head to look up at Dick with a nervous look and tears steadily streaming down his eyes.
“Duke.. bud, I know it’s scary. You could never bother us though, especially if you’re upset.” Dick says with a frown, sorrow filling his voice as he runs a hand over Duke’s head comfortingly. “How about we go in there together? If you feel uncomfortable then you can leave or hug me tighter, how does that sound?”
A small and shaky— but still!— smile breaks onto Duke's face, making Dick smile back. The two walk over next to the side Damian rests on, seeing as the other was quite packed. Dick shuffles under the covers, Damian snuffles for a few moments, both Dick and Duke freeze until he flips over and nuzzles against Dick, who just combs his fingers through his hair.
Duke shifts on his feet for a few moments, then slowly climbs next to Dick, adjusting himself comfortably under the blankets and curling around Dick, who runs a hand up and down his back.
Within moments, Dick is the only one awake, smiling to himself as he looks over all of his siblings and his dad bundled together in peace. A giddy feeling fills his chest, a childish glee tugging at his mind. He holds Damian and Duke closer as he closes his eyes, happy to be sleeping surrounded by warmth and love.
Alfred checked all of the kids' rooms after nobody showed up in the midst of his cooking— let alone once it was done. No footsteps, no laughter, no tired groans from the ones who stayed up all night.
It was suspicious.
Nevertheless, he carried onwards to Bruce’s room, opening the door quietly, ready to start the daily routine of many years, until he saw Bruce already awake, surrounded by a pile of sleeping children.
“Good morning, sir.” Alfred whispers, a smile tugging at his lips at the sight.
Bruce huffs a breath in reply as he tries to sit upwards, shushing Jason when he whines at the subtlest movements or sounds, petting down his hair.
“I believe you might be stuck on the bed for the day, Master Bruce.” He says above the children, careful not to disturb any of them. Bruce chuckles quietly, “I guess I am. Not the worst situation to be stuck in though.” He says fondly, his eyes full of admiration and love for all his kids.
“Definitely not the worst.” He agrees, moving towards the bed to readjust Bruce’s pillow, seeing as the man couldn’t really move to do it himself.
Stepping away to leave the room, he pauses at the door. “I’ll come back with breakfast, perhaps a bedroom picnic is in order.” Alfred says, a twinkle of happiness shining brightly in his eyes as he leaves.
It may be Bruce’s bedroom, but the bed certainly does not hold one owner.
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viccyfics · 3 months
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I'm not a violent dog (I don't know why I bite)
Chapter:1/?
Fandom: batman
Words: 947
Summary: Jason is slowly recovering from pit madness... But what if the traits everyone is scared of were things Jason had from the very beginning.
Read here or on Ao3
Sitting up Jason rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the whispers outside his door grew more distinct, his name danced through the muffled exchange, and he squinted trying to catch what the three men were saying.
"We'll just have to send Tim home" Bruce's voice spoke quietly dripping with annoyance, "I'm not so sure if that's gonna help, B" Dick mumbled "It's not like Jason is a current threat to him, and he's going to need us right now".
Jason sighed picking up part of the conversation and flopping back down against the firm mattress, his hands coming up to cover his ears, his eyes shutting tightly before tears could slip down his cheeks.
"you want to wait until he is?" Bruce snapped a little too loud for his liking, "Just because he's stuck in there doesn't mean he isn't a threat to the rest of us, it won't take long for the pit madness to take over again!"
Jason opened his eyes as a small sob escaped his lips, they didn't think he was still a threat did they? He didn't want to hurt Tim and he certainly didn't actually want to try and kill him, but what if the pit madness did take over his body again?
Jason opened his eyes as a small sob escaped his lips, they didn't think he was still a threat did they? He didn't want to hurt Tim and he certainly didn't actually want to try and kill him, but what if the pit madness did take over his body again?
"Master Bruce, that is enough!" Alfred's voice came cutting through the air and making Jason gasp, the air caught in his throat making his eyes water even more. "After all those boys have been through do you truly believe treating Master Jason like one of your villains is going to help?" The hallway was silent for a few moments but soon Jason could hear the echoes of Bruce's leather-bound shoes stomping down the hallway.
So Bruce couldn't even try to see Jason like the son he was but just a monster? A monster who wouldn't even be like this if it wasn't for him.
"Master Jason, are you awake?" Alfred's voice called out with a small knock against the oak door, the authoritative tone was gone and replaced by that of worry, "May I come in?" Jason sniffled as he rubbed his hands over his face to try and rid the tears that had been spilling down his cheeks and begun to dampen the collar of his pyjama top.
"Please" Jason whimpered not sure if the older man could hear him, his voice trembling. The old door creaked open but Jason refused to move from his position on the bed, Alfred took a few small steps towards the bed. "How much of that did you hear?" he asked as he reached the large bed.
"enough… are you scared of me?" Jason replied sitting up to watch the older man as he sat down on the edge of the bed, "Of course not Master Jason, Master Bruce is just…" he paused for a moment trying to think of the right words but just shook his head and sighed.
"He's worried about you" Alfred explained mostly to his ears rather than Jason's, "Everything is going to be alright, I'll make sure of it" he smiled lightly at the young man sitting in front of him. "But what if it's not going to be alright? what if I hurt someone again? what if I end up killing someone?!" Jason snapped, fingers tangling in his hair as he gripped it.
"You won't" Alfred pleaded taking Jason's hands in his own to pull them away from his dark curls, "I have an idea, but you're going to have to wait until you're more healed". Rubbing a thumb over the back of Jason's hand with a warm smile.
"What is it?" Jason asked eyes down watching Alfred's thumb, "I'll tell you in the morning, It's time you had some sleep" Alfred smiled lifting his right hand to cup Jason's cheek, "Okay Grandad" Jason chuckled lightly.
Alfred lifted himself off the bed and onto his feet with a quiet grunt, "If you need anything please let me know" Jason responded with a small nod, "Thanks, Alfred". "Of course Master Jason"
Jason adjusted himself back down with the duvet up under his chin as Alfred walked back over to the doorway.
"Now, get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning"
"Night Alf" Jason yawned, Alfred couldn't help but smile at the scene and reminisce about the young man Bruce had brought home only a few years before, with his wild hair, big eyes and bright imagination.
Shutting the door behind himself quietly, Alfred turned back down the hallway to see about calling some close connections who would be willing to help the young man in these trying times.
But first, he needed to check in on Master Timothy who had yet to leave his bedroom after being brought back to Wayne Manor after his encounter with Jason in Titan's Tower.
Luckily for Alfred, he knew the hallways like the back of his hand, so even with all the lights off he had no issue walking his way to Tim's bedroom where he could hear the soft snores from the outside.
Tim's door was slightly ajar with a small lamp just by the doorframe.
If Tim's snoring was anything to go by then the young man was doing just fine, Alfred had been checking on him multiple times a day but the young man had been doing remarkably well after the first two weeks of healing, Alfred had often forced himself to walk away after accidentally overhearing a few phone calls with a boy Alfred had come to learn the name of was Bernard, as well as the other Titans wanting to check in on him.
He'll just have to check on Tim in the morning.
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princesspuresarahk · 4 months
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The Batman Fanfic: A Little Robin’s Beginning
Chapter:2 Talk and Plans
Warning for some mature and dark scenes.
“Yes Jack, let’s talk privately in the bedroom,” said Janet as she walked after her husband to discuss what was on his mind. Janet knew that if it was this important, it was best to discuss it away from prying eyes and open ears; away from both their son and their guests.
“Okay Jack, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” asked Janet as she closed the door of her upstairs bedroom and sat on the large bed that she shared with her husband while she waited to hear what he had to say. Janet’s chest was pounding, she fiddled with her blouse collar nervously as she wondered and wondered what he was going to tell him. She hoped that he wasn’t having an affair. "I'll need your help with some very important papers at the office some of them involved Tim that we both need to set up and a couple of others that I'll show you when we get to the office I know this is sudden darling but I really help your help on this ." He said calmly taking his wife's hands into his and bringing them close to his face while looking into her big baby blue eyes the same that their son inherited and looked so similar to his mother's as she looked into his soft grey ones full of love and tenderness that seemed to always convince Janet of anything
“What exactly are these papers for? Also… how do they involve Tim? I can check them out at the office Tomorrow… but I’ll feel much better if I knew what it was that I was signing” said Janet as she sat on the bed and reached onto her nightstand for a glasses case so she could better read the document. “Is Tim alright, John?” asked Janet who was trying not to worry. Janet who often came across as a rather confident woman was also a dedicated mother who wanted to be in the loop of all of her child’s activities. Janet continued to play with her blouse collar, still nervous. "Tim is going to be fine dear some of these papers are just a set for his inheritance and in case something ever happens to us he'll be taken care of as for the others Janet, wait until we get there okay." It was then that they heard Tim calling for them "come on dear I promise these can wait for tomorrow for let's go spend time with our son." Giving his wife's hands a quick kiss he headed out the door downstairs as Janet slowly followed still thinking over what John said “I knew we had to settle the inheritance matters for Tim sooner or later. I do know that we’ll have to explain all of this to Tim when he’s a little older~” said Janet who got up and left the important documents on the small desk in their master bedroom.
Several minutes later, Janet followed her husband back downstairs to rejoin the party. “Hello Tim, Baby. Mommy and Daddy needed to discuss something but we made sure to be quick about it so we could focus more on your special night~” said Janet as she hugged her darling son, even in front of all of his guests. Janet didn’t care if everyone was watching them; she just wanted her son to feel loved no matter what. After a couple of hours of fun games ,more playing and chatting soon it was time for the guests to leave as they said their goodbyes and wishing Tim another happy birthday as their helped their kids already tired and sleeping from all the fun out the door wishing the family a goodnight and we'll see you Monday until it was just Tim his parents and Maggie who insisted to help clean up before she left for the night even though Janet told her that there was no need to and she helped enough today and that she could take care of it but Maggie with her loving heart didn't mind as Tim and John joined to help get everything cleaned up once everything was picked up and put away Maggie gave him a hug any sweet kiss good night sweet baby as he gave off a tired yawn wishing Maggie good night as he entirely rubbed his sleepy eyes his little body already tuckered out from today's events as Maggie waved a final goodbye as she close the door leaving the Drake's residence in the meantime to let off another cute little yawn as his mother lifted him into her arms happy and adoring her sweet baby knowing that he had a fun day "Come on my sweet darling let's get you a bath ready and then before bed we'll read that new book you have." She cooed as John tousled his raven hair chuckling as Tim's baby blue eyes lit up in his sleepy face After a couple of hours of fun games ,more playing and chatting soon it was time for the guests to leave as they said their goodbyes and wishing Tim another happy birthday as their helped their kids already tired and sleeping from all the fun out the door wishing the family a goodnight and we'll see you Monday until it was just Tim his parents and Maggie who insisted to help clean up before she left for the night even though Janet told her that there was no need to and she helped enough today and that she could take care of it but Maggie with her loving heart didn't mind as Tim and John joined to help get everything cleaned up once everything was picked up and put away Maggie gave him a hug any sweet kiss good night sweet baby as he gave off a tired yawn wishing Maggie good night as he entirely rubbed his sleepy eyes his little body already tuckered out from today's events as Maggie waved a final goodbye as she close the door leaving the Drake's residence in the meantime to let off another cute little yawn as his mother listed him into her arms happy and adoring her sweet baby knowing that he had a fun day " come on my sweet darling let's get you a bath ready and then before bed we'll read that new book you have." She cooed as John tousled his raven hair chuckling as Tim's baby blue eyes lit up in his sleepy face.
“And they all lived happily ever after. There Tim… I hope you enjoyed your story” said Janet as she kissed Tim’s forehead before getting up to put his book on his small desk. Janet smiled as she went on to tuck Tim in. The older woman smiled at her young son, who was beginning to drift off to sleep “Yes Mommy, I enjoyed it. Goodnight Mommy~” said Tim as he kissed his Mother on the cheek and went to sleep. Janet then turned the lights off and closed the door before she went to the master bedroom. John had already gotten into his pajamas and was in bed reading a book of his own.
“He’s already asleep John, it’s just us two Honey~” said Janet as she unzipped her skirt before unbuttoning her blouse and removing that too. Janet then placed her clothes on her hope chest before removing her bra, stockings and panties. Janet then went to her underwear drawer and pulled out a satin nightie that she often wore to bed and put it on. It was a beautiful deep blue one of her favorite colors “I always like that color on you it always brought out those big blue eyes of yours." A comment making his wife smile as she climbed into bed snuggling up to John as he finished a chapter of his book setting it on the side table and settling in the covers when he noticed Janet still had a concerned look on her face to cheer her up he thought of some comforting words to ease her “I’ve been spending so much time at the office John. If only we could spend more time with Tim; that boy needs his mother and father in his life, especially at his age” said Janet as she adjusted her nightie before pulling the covers over herself while snuggling up to John.
“I’m really not too sleepy at the moment, maybe we can… you know~” said Janet who was snuggling closer to John. Janet really wanted to get it on as it was far too long since their last time, but she wanted it. " we'll why not .?" he whispered a pink blush forming on Janet's cheeks as her husband gave her gentle kisses on her face and brushing his fingers against her raven hair " don't worry darling tomorrow will be different once we get things settled we’ll head home to have more family with Tim from now on that I promise my love." Making Janet smile even more " Oh John dear that makes my heart soar things will be different." they gave each other a deep kiss and began to make love unknown to the Drake family that after this night that would be the last I love you hug and kiss they would give their son as a family as the early foggy morning came the Drake house completely quiet as a mouse all except for the soft breathing of little Tim slowly from his peaceful sleep.
Janet and John had made love for almost the entire night until about 4:00 AM when they both fell asleep. At about 7:00 AM, Janet got up with her beautiful raven black hair kinda messy and her nightie had one strap that had slipped off her shoulder from making love with her husband several hours prior. Janet then went to check up on Tim who was still sleeping peacefully. Afterward, Janet went downstairs to the kitchen to make herself some coffee before heading back up to the master bedroom to be with her husband. “Good morning handsome, I made us some coffee,” said Janet as she waited for John to sit up before she handed him his mug before Janet sat back in the bed. Janet pulled the covers over herself to be close to her man while she drank her coffee. "Hello darling that sounds great ." He replied kissing his wife on the cheek and pouring himself a cup to enjoy as Janet looked at the cloak by the time they were out the door at 8:00 Maggie would be there and by later today they would be back in time to spend time with Tim maybe they can go to the park and have a nice picnic “I think today we should do something with Tim, all three of us. I’ve been working really hard at the office lately and we haven’t had time off altogether, you should’ve seen Tim’s little face light up when you came home for his party and all three of us were together” said Janet as she kissed John’s face, she was still happy from having sex with him last night after a long time. Janet smiled as the morning sun slowly came in through the blinds of their bedroom windows.
“Let’s go have a picnic at Gotham Park. I can prepare some food and we can even bring some toys to play together with Tim; oh I’m sure he’ll love that so much. What do you say, John?” Said Janet as she played with John’s hair, wondering if he’d agree with her. Janet kissed John’s lips after she took a sip of her coffee; she also let down one strap of her nightie to look seductive for her man. "That definitely sounds great my love." He returned the kiss as they finished up they finished their coffee and got ready for the day before leaving Janet quietly went to Tim's room to check on him who still sleeping sweetly like a baby still tuckered out from yesterday's party smile she slowly went to him leaning over to give a kiss on his rosie cheek a light smile on his face as he snuggled into the bed more with teddy  as she quietly whispered him a goodbye "goodbye Tim my sweet babydoll Mommy and Daddy will see you soon." As she looked at him one last time until she was out of the room walking with John “You look amazing in that outfit." He commented as he noticed Janet wearing a black suit with a cream pink blouse black heels and a brown leather belt along with her favorite pearls flattered she gave him a bit of a twirl “Seeing you always so well dressed up really turns me on haha~” John flirted as he kissed Janet’s cheek before fixing his tie and walking out with Janet. The sun was pretty hot especially at this time of year, even when the summer season was almost over.
“I hope we won’t be late for our appointment with the lawyer, these appointments always make me stressed sometimes; and I’m a businesswoman who knows a lot about dealing with clients, signing papers, and negotiating~” said Janet as she drove with her husband to the attorney’s office to settle their inheritance for Tim. Offering his arm John gave her his most charming smile “Shall we, my darling." He declared making her giggle such the gentleman as Janet took his arm in delight as he opened the door morning mist was thick in the air like pea soup as they stepped out heading toward Janet closing the door behind them as she looked up at where Tim's window “I’m always happy to know that I’m in good hands in your arms my Darling John~” said Janet as the two have been driving for close to 30 minutes because there was a lot of traffic in the city. The husband and wife arrived at the attorney’s office, ready to finalize their son’s inheritance. “I’m ready my husband. I hope this doesn’t take too long~” said Janet as the two got out of the car. Janet was eager to get home in time to see Tim, hoping that today was the first day the three of them could hang out.
9:30 Tim's face is welcomed by the warm summer rays peaking from the clouds rubbing the sleep from his big baby blue eyes as he lets out a little yawn " G..good morning Teddy." He said hugging his bear as he climbed out he noticed the house seemed very quiet as he went to the bathroom to potty he went to wash his hands as he wondered where Maggie was "I wonder where Maggie is Teddy s..she usually comes t..to check on me when I wake up in mornings?" Once he finished he grabbed Teddy again as he went down the stairs to see if Maggie was in the kitchen maybe she was making breakfast but when he checked she wasn't there either when he checked the living room no one was there or in the other rooms where was everyone he knew his mommy and daddy were at work and would be home later when he heard a beeping sound noticing that it was there answering machine maybe it was Mom or daddy or Maggie cuddling up to the side desk where it was he pressed the button that it would answer revealing that this message was sent 5 minutes before his parents left for work and when he heard the voice he was surprised that it was Maggie " hello Mr. and Mrs. Drake I …cough…cough..am terrible sorry to…cough.. call at an unexpected moment but I'm definitely sorry to tell you that I have gone under the weather badly and may need to go to the hospital so I'm afraid I might not be able to watch dear..cough..Timothy today I hope you will understand and to let..cough..cough..cough.. Timmy knows that I'm sorry..cough.. I couldn't make it today please thank you for…cough..cough… understanding." With that the beep sounded signaling that the call was over Tim gave a sad face to poor Maggie she must have sounded very sick and sad "Oh T-teddy p-poor Maggie she sounded so so sick ." He said hugging his teddy to his chest " I g-guess just going to be me and you.." as he thought about his momma and daddy they were away at work he wished he could call them but the only home phone they had was in his daddy's office and Tim was never allowed in there only when his father allowed him and it was always kept locked at all times so there was no way to let them know that Maggie was sick.
He suddenly heard a gurgling when he looked around to find where the noise was coming from but didn't see anything he looked down and realized that it was his tummy "Breakfast" I'm g..getting hungry Teddy h..how about you?" He asked pressing his ear to listen what his bear “you h..hungry too ok come we can go find some breakfast." If Maggie's not here to help him it'll be okay he can make his breakfast by himself he's a big boy now he and Teddy made their way to the kitchen to find food.
At Drake Industries
“Right; now Mr. and Mrs. Drake, I’d like you both to please sign and date this document. This is your confirmation of consent that makes your son Timothy Drake the next of kin who will claim the inheritance when the time is right” explained the lawyer as John signed and dated his part, and Janet had just signed and dated her part of the document when she got a call on her cell phone from Maggie and how she was unwell and unable to come to work. “John, we have to hurry home as soon as we’re finished. Maggie can’t come to the apartment to look after Tim, she’s in the hospital. Let’s wrap this up and go home to check up on Tim; poor baby must be starving” said Janet. Despite always trying to come across as a strong businesswoman, she was definitely a helicopter parent who often showered Tim with love and affection so many times that she didn’t know when to start letting him do things for himself despite still being so little.
“Hello, Tim. Don’t worry Sweetheart, Mommy’s coming to make you breakfast~” said Janet sending the phone hoping Timmy will hear it as she had everything completed with her husband and the two hurried out to their car to drive back home to be with Tim. But as they were heading out they were suddenly stopped by a big black car in front of them preventing them from leaving the chauffeur got out of the car and approached them calmly as a concerned look grew on Janet's face "John..?" Looking to her husband as the man came closer unaware to both of them that they would not be going home to their son. “I don’t know who these guys are! I’m going to get to the bottom of this!” said John who reached into the glove compartment to grab his gun when the glass car window on his side broke as one of the assailants shot the gun out of John’s hand. Suddenly, another thug tossed a nerve gas canister between the couple.
“J-John… I’m… I’m scared!” said Janet who was struggling to breathe as she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her vision suddenly became hazy, and she couldn’t concentrate. Janet then passed out after the nerve gas was really getting to her. “Janet?! Baby!? Please wake up! Please!” said John worriedly as his wife was knocked out. John could just about see the people who were attacking them before he also passed out. A much taller man stepped out of the limo, he wore a whitish silver suit and had a metallic face in the form of a black skull with red eyes.
“We managed to get Drake, but his wife is also in the car; shall we kill her now?” asked a smaller man with long white hair and orange shades.“Certainly not Number 1! Why only capture one of them when you can capture both the husband and wife? These two will be the ticket to getting what we want!” said Black Mask as he watched his thugs load John and Janet into the limo before driving them both to Black Mask’s warehouse later. Later, Janet woke up, having been handcuffed to a chair; she looked around frantically and tried to figure out where they were.
10:30 pm The ending music of Oliver and Company filled the living room Tim gave a tired little yawn as the movie ended being the 4th one he watched while waiting for Mama and Daddy who still weren't home yet he was already up way past his bedtime having snuggled up in the couch with his favorite blanket maybe they had to stay at the office more? But no matter what he'll stay up for them to come home " O..one m..more..yawn.. movie Teddy then Mama and Daddy will surely be home by then it's okay Teddy you can go to sleep and I'll stay up to wait..Yawn…okay." He said sleepily tucking Teddy into his blankie and giving him a goodnight kiss just like his Mama does for him “Good night Teddy I love you too." He cooed as he put on the movie Bambi but not long after Tim had fallen asleep just as Bambi was looking calling out for his Mother. As the little one slept not knowing his Mama and Daddy were not coming home for a very long time with no friends or family unaware that in that house was Drake's only child all alone with nobody to notice at all. As the next morning came heavy rain clouds surrounded Gotham signaling for a heavy rainy day as Tim slowly woke up from the couch.
Meanwhile, over in Black Mask's hideout; Jack and Janet were not having a good night. Janet was in a windowless room feeling cold and unable to move, fearing for her husband's safety. Earlier, one of Black Mask's guards came in and tried to sexually assault Janet by opening her blouse and trying to feel her breasts; but Janet attempted to fight back in retaliation. The guard left when he was called back by Black Mask to interrogate her husband, who was beaten to a pulp as Black Mask demanded to know where the information was. "I'm disappointed in you Drake! You said you could get me my money; you're several grand short," said Black Mask as he nodded for one of his men to punch Jack in the stomach, hoping the man got the message. "I'll get it to you! I SWEAR!" said Jack, who felt so delirious that he couldn't communicate properly; he didn't want Black Mask to hurt him or his wife and he knew appeasing their captor was all they could do to keep them alive. "Please! I promise you'll have the rest of the money! Every last dollar! I'll see to it! Just PLEASE, let my wife and I go! We have a son, he NEEDS US! I'll get you the money!" said John as he did his best to convince Black Mask that he would be on time with his promise.
"You've got until this coming Friday! Get it, or I'll also show your wife what I can do when you double-cross Black Mask. Speaking of your wife, she's very beautiful… perhaps she should stay here… as collateral~" said Black Mask as he snapped his fingers and two of his guards got Janet and brought her over. John had to find a way to get the money for Tim and Janet's safety but how? Timothy! Please oh, let him be safe that Black Mask doesn't find out thankfully they have no idea where they live nor what Tim looks like. John knew he made mistakes in the past he regretted and this was one of them but he was desperate he needed the money to pay those hospital bills! He prayed no matter he and Janet would find a way to get out of this and get back to their boy.
End of chapter 2 Will Janet and John find a way out? Why did he make a deal with Black Mask? will Tim find out when his Mom and Dad will come home? Hopefully help will come.
credit to the lovely https://www.tumblr.com/theivylinerart for being part of this story!
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meritatem · 8 months
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When wildlife rehabilitators free animals back into their habitats, they take precautions with dangerous specimens; it's common sense not to stand close to the cage's door after it's open... that's why when Damian was sure Jason was fit to be cleared, he gave him instructions like a medical professional would, explained the layout of the safe house, pointed where to find his things and everything else he'll need and finally, took most of what he brought with him, gave him one last look and just left with a farewell, ignoring Jason's complaints in the background.
Only when he got out of the building and entered the closest one he selected to keep with surveillance, Damian activated the command to open the bed's constraints. While Todd was amenable enough for someone that had been kidnapped and put under medical procedures against his will, Damian wasn't under the belief that things would be safe for him once Jason was free. Although the Lazarus Pit had been a foreign influence affecting him physically, it didn't mean that his mental state had become stable now that it was gone. Todd was going to need time to come to terms with the things that happened to him; expecting those issues to be resolved in a couple of weeks was unrealistic, but Damian knew he'd have a better outcome if he waited some time before approaching Jason again, at the very least Todd would be less likely to shoot him again.
Damian headed towards the room he selected beforehand to do his actual stakeout and once there, he resigned himself to more waiting. Given how much he spent in silence with his thoughts in the past few days, the two hours it took for Jason to resurface to the world practically flew by. That’s what he had been waiting for: to see Jason in the screen of his laptop through the security cameras, up and ready, walking on the garage, bag on his shoulder and looking so much better after a shower, if his seemingly damp hair was anything to judge by. Jason got on the first motorcycle that caught his attention and put the helmet over his head, not even bothering with looking for trackers, so either he didn't care at this point or he was planning on ditching it as soon as possible.
And there Todd went, out of the garage using its secret entrance, free to roam the streets of Gotham once again.
This was something Damian spent so much planning for and while it had been exhilarating at the beginning, now it left him feeling like climbing a mountain and stopping just for a small respite, before being forced to keep up, carrying the invisible weight of his past. No rest for the wicked, so they said.
He gave three updates - more than enough time to cover up what he had been up to - before announcing his whole operation was a bust.
It was embarrassing to admit such juvenile overlook from his part, but when he arrived later at the bunker, the sight of Grayson, full in costume, took him by surprise. And it was something expected, logical, but the fact that Damian hadn't conjured this foreseeable imagery until now, meant he purposely avoided thinking about this inevitability, even when it was so impossible to ignore the reality of this fact... the mind certainly was capable of doing wonders when denial was part of the mix. Drake was there too, sitting in front of the computer and both of them seemed busy with something, but when Grayson noticed his presence, he turned and gave Damian his full attention.
“Hey there,” he said more warmly than he had any right to be. “Welcome back, kiddo.”
Tim threw at him a cold glance before returning his gaze to the screen and any hope Damian had of making this quick, died when Dick starting walking towards him.
“I'm sorry things didn't go well this time.”
Damian had spent too much time with Todd clearly, because his first impulse was to answer as crassly as him. “A mere setback, it comes with the territory.”
“Look at it this way, we can all work at this together now.”
“If you must.”
Like hell, Damian was going to bury everything about his cover a never brought it up again, even if he had to go and look for trouble to make it up for it.
“So,” Dick said in a playful tone and a little pause. “What do you think?”
Grayson was referring to the suit, but he must thought Damian needed the clarification because he extended his arms, trying to show better the assemble. It wasn't all different from the original suit he once donned but Damian could see the small changes... changes based on his own design, mostly in the armor. And in another time, seeing again that ridiculous bat buckle would've make him smile, but at the moment he wasn't in the mood for the small joys of life.
“Acceptable,” was the neutral answer. “Could be better.”
Grayson laughed and it was so irrational how Damian wanted to just hate it; hate a sound he treasured so much he even dreamed of it while walking the barren land of the future.
Whatever Grayson was going to say next it was interrupted by Drake, who didn't even bother in looking in their direction. “Dick, come here and take a look, I think I found something.”
“Sorry,” Grayson said, directed at Damian. “We'll catch up later, okay?”
At the same time that Dick turned around, Damian extended his arm and for a second his hand twitched with the need to grab the cape, but he stopped himself right on time, covering that hand with the other, like it suddenly had its own will and needed it to be controlled.
Before he made a fool of himself, he hurriedly retreated to change his clothes, so he could go to look for Alfred. Damian wouldn't be his parent's son if he couldn't put himself together by the time he made it to the penthouse, where he found the man in the kitchen, preparing what it must be a midnight snack, just like he always used to do when someone was down in the cave working.
“Master Damian,” he said as soon as he saw him, stopping what he was doing. “I'm so relieved to see you again.” He could've said the opposite and the tone he used would've show the true meaning of his words.
“Your lack of faith is disappointing.”
“I'll let you know my faith is always unwavering, sir.”
Ah, Pennyworth, always a lighthouse in the middle of tempestuous nights. Damian could lose everything time after time, but as long as Alfred was there, extending his hand to him, Damian could endure it and even force himself to smile while doing it.
“There was nothing for you to worry about,” he said instead. “If you have time, we could discuss the final details of my mission.” The true intention of his words was clear: he wanted to talk about what happened with Jason away from unwelcomed ears.
Alfred gave him a once-over and the disapproving twist of his mouth told Damian everything he needed to know. “I feel this little conversation will have to wait, I recommend you sleep first.”
“I'm fine.” He said out of principle, because he certainly would prefer not to have important conversations right now.
“I'm afraid this is nonnegotiable, Master Damian.”
“Very well, I'll be talking to you in a few hours then.” He gave a small bow as a goodbye and he turned around to leave, but before taking the first step he added. “It's good to see you were fine in my absence.”
That was the closest he could manage to said he missed Alfred, but it was understood regardless.
Damian took a so much needed shower and while it was refreshing enough, it did little to relax him. After he made a quick check to make sure everything was in place in his room, he turned off the lights and climbed on the bed; at this point in his night routine is when he'd usually took the earbuds and music player that were on the nightstand, so he could sleep without waking up at the smallest sound. But today he made no attempt to move and just lied there, eyes wide open even if the only thing he could see was the darkness surrounding him.
When his eyes filled with tears to the point where they threatened to fall out, he just absentmindedly wiped them with the tips of his left index and thumb. Normally crying came with warnings: a lump in his throat, a tickle in his nose, a sting in his eyes... it was rarely this easy and sudden, leaving him unable to just will the tears away; he turned to his right side, curling up and hiding his head under his arms and the pillow. The whole time Damian didn't make a sound even when he had to start breathing through his mouth.
He left behind the League long ago... but crying still felt like a sin.
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The next day found him in a better mood for his conversation with Pennyworth... at least what it passed for better given the circumstances.
When he first decided to talk with Alfred about this mystical cure he knew about - which design he attributed to one of his tutors as a side project from his mother - and how it could help Jason, Damian tried really hard to convey the sincerity of his intentions and the mastery of his skills to pull it off.
Alfred asked question after question and Damian did his best to be as truthful as possible, without giving away his ruse of just being the right kind of person at the right time and place. Astonishingly, Pennyworth agreed that something like what Damian wanted to do was better left under wraps, because even if Dick knew that helping Jason was the right thing to do, he'd be more reticent in doing something so drastic, not without proof that Damian was saying the truth or being completely sure it'd work; it was a testament then, of how much trust he had gained from Pennyworth for him to go along with Damian's plans without doubting his methods. Damian wasn't sure if he really changed enough for an adult to finally recognize he wasn't just a stupid child, one with too many skills for his own good, or if somehow this was just Alfred being terribly conditioned by his father into doing morally questionable things in secret. Whatever the case, it was a godsend for someone trying to change the past without risking the future.
Tea time was the most appropriate moment to talk about Damian's little adventures in kidnapping and after he was done explaining the important parts, he took out a pen drive from one of his pockets and put it in the middle of the table.
“It contains my whole conversation with him, although you might want to skip my readings.”
Alfred looked at the pen drive like it was an object he was seeing for the first time and not being very impressed with it. “I think it's for the best if you destroy it,” he held the cup of tea that was in front of him and took a sip. “Some things are better left between two people.”
It wasn't the answer that Damian was expecting, but it was entirely just like Pennyworth to said something like that. He retrieved the pen drive and put it back where it had been previously and none of them say anything for a moment. Damian distracted himself by watching his reflection on his own cup of tea, still hating Earl Gray but drinking it anyway, because Alfred liked it.
“I don't believe things have changed,” Damian finally said. “But whatever happens now it's going to be entirely on him.”
They spoke about that a couple of times already, about how it was the most likely possibility that Todd was still going to raise chaos whenever he went, Lazarus' side effects or not. The only thing Damian did was to give him back agency and in a way, make him more dangerous. Jason with stupid ideas like dressing like a rejected superhero and challenging all the criminals in a hundred-mile radius, had still been manageable enough for an unwilling Batman and a bellicose Robin... but Todd with the advantage of a clear head? Well... good luck, Grayson and Drake, Damian was out.
But despite the discouraging prediction, Damian was convinced that Jason would follow a similar pattern to the Todd he knew, because as time passed, Todd relented on his own and gradually came around, becoming part of their tragic family again. Maybe this time Todd could stay away from this whole “bat-family” mess, surely it would save him a lot of heartbreak, of that Damian could attest well.
“And that's all I wanted for,” Alfred answered, more soft and open. “Master Jason has been through so much, at the very least he deserves the right of choosing the path he wants to follow, on his own. And for that I will be forever grateful, my boy.”
“Pennyworth, please, I'm allergic to niceties.”
Alfred didn't insist because in the course of their coexistence, he realized very early that Damian didn't feel comfortable with displays of affection or gratitude, something Alfred assumed had to do with his upbringing. The truth of course, was more complicated, because the current reason was that Damian didn't feel like he deserved any of those demonstrations; he wasn't being selfless or self-sacrificing in his actions, it was the complete opposite: he was desperately trying to amend the biggest mistake of his life, even if it meant breaking the laws of time and space, because that's how big his regret and egoism were.
And speaking of mistakes...
“There's something else I'd like to discuss, this too, requires your discretion.”
“Oh,” Alfred raised both eyebrows, preparing himself to hear something shocking because the first time Damian asked for something like this, he told him about the Lazarus Pit and his intentions for Jason. “Do tell.”
“I want to acquire a property from my father's state, I'll pay its fair price, of course. There's a project I want to start now that I have back my own founds.”
“I'm sure this can be easily solved, I don't think there's a need for you to pay to have access to the family's state. What asset are you interested in?”
Damian straightened up against the back of the chair and put his hands over the table, intertwining his fingers. “The MacDubh Castle in the Gaweyne Island.”
“...oh, my.”
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Usually when Damian called for Colin, he did it late in the night, when he knew Colin was already out doing his own business. This time however, he asked if it's was possible for them to meet as early as ten o'clock.
That's how he found himself waiting at the agreed hour, sitting on the roof's edge of one of the buildings that were next to the street he asked Colin to meet. To Colin's credit, he was late only fifteen minutes and Damian couldn't help but smile at seeing his figure approaching under the street's lights, looking like the most untrustworthy character with that terrible trench coat and hat. Clearly it was about time Damian did something to remedy that attire.  
Colin stopped close to the corner looking for him, first in his surroundings and then, because he knew him well at this point, he looked up, finding him without much trouble, happily waving a hand at him. Damian chose that moment to stand up and then, without even thinking about it, he jumped, arms firmly grasping his cape and spreading it against the wind. Colin seemed positively awed when he securely landed in front of him, something he missed being able to do due to the lack of appropriate equipment made especially for him. 
“You have a new costume!”
Of course only a kid would pay more attention to that than the reason of their meeting or Damian gliding from a building. Calling it new was an exaggeration, it was basically the same design as his League uniform but everything was black; from head to toe there wasn't even the smallest flicker of color, nor there existed any design or symbol that could exhibit an allegiance or selfhood. The bigger changes were only the pointy ends of his cape and the laced up boots he had been thinking about. Outside of that, Damian was just a shadow. In more ways than one.
“Now you really look like a ninja!”
“I can take you down.” Colin laughed and Damian turned around so he could hide the slight twitch of his mouth that betrayed a smile, and started to walk. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”
Contrary to what one would expect, Colin didn't ask where were they going but hurried to his side excitedly. “You were right!”
“I'm right about a lot of things, you have to be more specific.”
Colin playfully showed him, always mindful of their size difference, so Damian only staggered for a couple of steps. “Batman is back!” Now the excitement made more sense. “He put Scarecrow in Arkham! Everybody is talking about it, even robbers and thugs, some are scared because they think he's back from the death, like a zombie or some kind of demon.”
Oh, child, if only you knew. “Good, they deserve to be scared.”
“They deserve worst,” that right there was one the reasons Damian and Colin got along so well in the first place. “But I'm just happy he's finally back, I mean, we were handling it, but there's things only he can do and who knows, maybe next time he needs to be away for a little, he can let us in charge?” He sounded so hopeful that Damian didn't have the heart to tell him that it was very unlikely. “Have you been able to talk to him?”
“Barely, he and Robin are very busy at the moment, I imagine it's going to be like that for a while.”
“Oh,” Colin's disappointment was momentary, because next he seemed as animated as before. “And how's your brother?”
Damian had to stop himself from cringing because ugh... he had done a lot of unwise things and calling Todd “brother” was definitely one of them. But at the moment it seemed like the easiest way to convince Colin to help him, because kidnapping some random guy without any context undeniably sounded like criminal behavior, but saying he was trying to help his brother, who was in a similar situation like Colin had been at the beginning with Bane's Venom, was a much more sensible explanation.
“Alive. Hopefully not psychotic anymore, only time will tell.”
“Oh, alright, hope he gets well soon.”
This was Damian's life now, this kind of absurdity.
“Where are we going?” Colin finally asked the most important question and it only took him a couple of minutes.
“There.” Damian pointed to some spot in front of them.
Colin squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what Damian's was referring to. “Bat Burger?” He asked uncertainty.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To celebrate the possibility that I may be able to keep my spine intact.”
“Okaaay... are we really going there?”
“I'm not being clear?”
“It's not that, it's just... I didn't know, I don't have money with me, sorry.”
“I do, enough to buy anything and everything you want. And I'm not accepting refusals or else I'll remove your permissions to access the Grave.”
When Damian decided to baptize their little hideout with the ominous name of “the Grave”, Colin had alarmingly asked why like any normal person would, to which Damian replied that their activities as vigilantes were an absolute secret and secrets went to the grave. Colin must've thought it sounded “cool”, because he warmed up to the name instantly.
“You can't do that,” and he sounded genuinely offended. “I helped a lot with stuff.”
“We're not a democracy.”
This time when Colin tried to shove him again, Damian dodged it, because he knew it wasn't a playful push what was awaiting him.
Naturally, Damian's will was imposed at the end and although Colin seemed still hesitant while ordering, he didn't have problems to happily start eating once their food was on the table. 
Bat Burger was at this point a relatively small business, with just three restaurants in the city. It opened not long ago to a moderate acceptation, but he knew that in the next few years it was going to grow into a very lucrative chain. Once Colin had commented about wanting to visit it, but Damian, busy with the need of being a warrior and not a kid, never thought that was probably Colin's way of expressing his desire of going there with him.
The best thing about a restaurant with a gimmick such as this, was that Colin and Damian didn't raise brows and could pass as some fools playing superhero dress-up or something; surely they must've a Batman cosplayer at least once a week. So no one questioned Damian's sword - that he put in the seat next to him -, or the fact that he used a batarang to slice a piece of his hamburger. He considered the piece - a perfect quarter of the whole - for a moment, like it was a clue in a crime scene before finally putting it in his mouth; he carefully chewed before finally swallowing with an unconvinced look on his face.
“Would you like the rest of my hamburger?” Damian asked while pointing to his food with a hand gesture more appropriate to reveal culinary wonders.
“Why? You didn't like it?”
“I limit my consumption of meat to what is necessary but I was curious, the advertisement highly exaggerates, this is below average at best.”
“Really?”
“See for yourself.”
With Damian's encouragement, Colin took a good bite of the now infamous hamburger. “It's not bad, I think is tasty.”
“Tt, I'm a snob then.” And he took one of the fries from his order directly to his mouth.
“You're not, you just talk funny.”
“I can hurt you, severely.”
And like every time Damian threatened him, Colin just laughed. “See? You talk funny but you're also funny.”
Damian just sighed, all pretense and theatrics. “I used to be feared.”
Colin giggled because clearly he was having more fun in this place than Damian, so to appease him, he offered him his box of nuggets. “Do you want one?”
“No, thank you.” He answered with a wrinkle of his nose.
Acting like this was an actual problem, Colin looked over the table to the things he ordered, finally stopping in the stickers that came with said order of nuggets. “And a sticker?”
Now that caught Damian's attention. A couple of colorful stickers with the Batman symbol were a far cry from the toys that eventually will come with their meals, but Damian found himself taking the blue one because it made him think of something else.
“They could at least introduce some variety, Batman's not the only one keeping this city standing.”
“Well, we're at Bat Burger.”
“Batman's overrated.”
Damian didn't understood the “gravity” of his words until he heard Colin's gasp of surprise. “That's not true.”
Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the place they were in, but he couldn't help the sudden need of doubling down. “There's dozens of heroes better than him, I can even use them to count instead of sheep.”
“Take that back! Batman is amazing even when he doesn't have powers, because he can always win without them.”
Colin could try to look like he was very offended, but the slightly tremor of his lips gave him away, so Damian put his left elbow over the table so he could rest his head against his hand, smirking. “Nightwing could easily defeat him, if he really wanted to,” and he made a point of taking another fry and biting it with his canines. “Or in terms you will understand better... he'll wipe the floor with Batman any day of the week.”
He caught the ketchup package that Colin threw at him, so Damian did accordingly and threw it back and from there, an array of things flew over the table - but not food, because both of them had respect for it -, so it wasn't surprising that by the time they tried to use the trays too, they were promptly kicked out.
And while sitting on the sidewalk in the cold of the night, finishing their food, they were still laughing.
⪻Chapter 10
Chapter 12⪼
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moonlight-cp · 2 years
Text
Proxy in Command (Creepypasta x Reader) Chapter 3
Series Masterlist
I immediately rushed outside and started to run towards the fire's direction. Once I was nearly there,  I slightly slowed down so that I can ready about the other proxy's information.
Tobias (Toby) Erin Rogers 
Toby grew up with several mental disorders during his childhood, making it difficult for him to fit in with "normal people".
Bullied for his tics
Toby's symptoms worsened after sister's death
up-beat and hyper personality but will sometimes lose control of his emotions due to his bipolar disorder, making it difficult to talk to him at times.
I stared at his photo for 10 seconds before closing the folder and begin sprinting towards his house.
There was already a crowd forming, staring at the house. The sirens were heard but they were still far from the house. I knew I had to go inside so without thinking, I rushed inside ignoring the crowd's screams. On one hand, I covered my nose with my hood, and with the other, I held the folder. 
"Toby!" I yelled but received no response. I then noticed the backyard door was opened. I prayed he was outside
As soon as I stepped outside, I saw him pointing a hatchet towards me. "Who a-are you?" He demanded. I saw his eyes were filled with fear and his mouth was open where you could see his teeth.
I raised my hands in surrender. "Toby we need to get out of here before the firemen and the police arrive. I need you to follow me so that-"
"H-how can I t-trust you!" he screamed. 
"Toby, please! We're running out of time. I will explain everything if we can go now!"
He immediately sprinted towards my side while aiming his hatchet. I rolled down and got up. I held his arms so he wouldn't attack me.
"Is someone out there?" I heard a fireman yell out.
Toby turned around and looked at me, "L-lead the way"
I let him go and ran towards the wooden fence. I jumped up but waited for Toby. He turned to look at his burning house before jumping down.
"As crazy as it sounds we have to run towards the forest, there I will explain everything,"  I told him in which he nodded.
|~~~|
After 5 minutes of running, we finally made it to the forest. Overall I felt proud of myself for gathering the proxies in less than 2 hours.
"C-can I ask you an f-few q-questions?" He asked.
"Go ahead," I said without emotion.
"Who are you and why d-did you save me?"
I looked straight and tried to think of an answer that wouldn't freak him out. "I'm Y/N L/N and I was sent by my master to save you. Although I was supposed to do that later, but you cracked earlier," I explained.
"W-what's in the f-folder?" He asked
"Information about you," I confessed. "When I brought the other 2 proxies, I was informed your insanity cracked so I took it and read through it while I was making my way towards you."
"I-I'm s-sorry" 
I clicked my tongue, "It wasn't your fault kid. I know you had a shitty past so I'm not surprised you finally took actions,"  I admitted.
(...) I knocked on Slenderman's door and waited for his response. Once I heard it, I opened the door for Toby and got inside the office. I closed the door and saw that Slenderman was sitting down on his desk with Tim and Brian in front of him. Offender and Trender were on his left while Splendor was on his right. 
"Toby Rogers, take a seat," Slender said while pointing towards the empty seat on the right.
Toby looked at me and I nodded. I was making my way next to Splendor while Toby walked behind me to his assigned seat. 
Splendor placed his left hand on my right shoulder and smiled, "I'm proud of you Y/N" 
I gave him a small smile and looked towards Slenderman.
"Toby Rogers I am Slenderman and I was just saying to the other 2 that I have been watching you three for some time now. I know you all have the potential of becoming my proxies. This means you four will go out to accomplish the missions I assign you whether it's killing or spying on someone but in this next case is gathering another Creepypasta. You can no longer have your human life anymore which means no contact with anyone else besides the other killers in this mansion. You will be living in this mansion. You three have the choice to join but if you don't, I sadly have to kill you. So, what are your answers?"
I looked towards the guys' unreadable expressions. Tim and Brian were deeply thinking while Toby was twitching badly. Brian and Tim looked towards each other and nodded.
"We accept"
Toby then nodded, "So d-do I"
Slenderman nodded and opened up his desk drawer. He gave Tim a white mask, while Brian got a black one. He then gave Toby goggles and a mouthguard. 
"Your new names will be Masky, Hoodie, and Toby," Slenderman told them. He then looked towards us. "I'm going to mark them. I need you 4 to leave," he demanded.
We nodded and left his room with Offender closing the door. "I heard when Slendy marks them the process is quite painful," he said.
I touched my left shoulder with my right-hand where I was marked by Slenderman. "I don't remember feeling pain but again, I was like 6 or 7 when he marked me."
"And it was all because of Zalgo," Trender muttered.
Immediately screams were heard from Slenderman's room which got our attention. I couldn't help but slightly smirk. "Is it seriously that painful?" I laughed.
The screams soon stopped and Slender opened the door. "It appears it was too painful for them which made them faint. Luckily I managed to still mark them," he explained. "They'll wake up in a few hours"
He then looked at me and handed me 8 folders. "These are the other Creepypastas. I'll tell you when it's time to gather them." He told me which I nodded. "If you excuse me, I have some work to do," he stated and closed the door.
"So I'm guessing you have the day of Y/N" Splendor said with a huge smile across his face. 
I shrugged, "You never know-"
"Don't sweat it kid," Offender interrupted me while wrapping his arm on my shoulder. We were all making our way towards the living room."We haven't spent time together so might as well take advantage of this day"
"Especially since this could be the last time we have some privacy before the other Creepypastas arrive," Trender added.
I sat in the middle of the couch with Offender on my left and Trender on my right. Splendor sat on the carpet in front of me.  I couldn't help but think about Zalgo. He was going to wake up soon and that meant an upcoming battle. Will I be able to face Zalgo after all those years of torture?
"Y/N?" I heard Spendor call out my name before I could remember what Zalgo did to me.  
I looked at him and realized he was holding my hands. "Are you alright? You're trembling." 
"Are you thinking about Zalgo?" Offender asked while Trender was rubbing my back.
I shook my head. I didn't want them to know I slightly feared him."I can't wait to kill him," I muttered.
There were a few things in my childhood that traumatized me and it was mostly because of Zalgo. No one knows what happened 10 years ago besides Zalgo and me. There were secrets that I hid as a child to keep the others safe. It took me a long time to forget those nightmares but I eventually did. Now that he was back, I fear all those memories and nightmares will return.
Series Masterlist---Next Chapter -> (Chapter 4)
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thatforgottenbasilisk · 3 months
Text
fireworks (and their ashes)
CHAPTER 1
summary:
It's not serendipity that kept Tim Stoker alive through the Unknowing. Things aren't as simple as that, not anymore, not for things like Jon and not for things like Tim.
Because that's what they are now. Things. They'll come to terms with it eventually, but "eventually" is a very long way away.
(AO3)
"Tim is gone."
He should've known that Basira had meant what she said. He should've known that "gone" doesn't mean "dead" anymore, and to be honest, it hasn't in a while. Basira doesn't use euphemisms anyway, she's blunt and she'll say dead when she means it.
"Tim is gone."
He hadn't questioned it. He'd been perfectly willing to believe that Tim hadn't survived the explosion, that he'd died for revenge on Nikola and everything else in the Unknowing. It had seemed like something that would have happened, even if he hadn't been present for the explosion himself; even if it hadn't rendered him comatose for six months, he'd have believed it. That much C4 wasn't meant to be survived by anything human.
"Tim is gone."
That sentence was supposed to convey so much more than he'd listened for, because Tim wasn't dead, and he'd left- something must have made him able to do so. Obviously the Unknowing left its scars on everybody, but it must have changed Tim much more similarly to what it did to Jon himself.
He should've figured this out earlier, back when he'd first gone back to the Archives, when everyone was ignoring him and all he had was time to think, but he didn't. Everyone's still ignoring him, and he's still got plenty of time to think, but he's just had the conclusion walk inside of the Archives and demand he record her Statement.
He clicks the tape recorder on, since he's already explained its purpose to the disbelieving woman sat at the other side of the table, and says dispassionately,
Statement of Nadia Beaufort, regarding a man that calls himself Tim Stoker. Statement direct from subject, recorded 27th February, 2018. Statement begins.
I- I don't think that's his real name. Seems a bit too, ah, on-the-nose to be his real name, doesn't it? A man called Stoker burned my favorite café down, I'd get laughed out of any police station before I even gave my name for a report.
Still, that's what he calls himself, and I don't have any idea how to find out his real name anyway, so... if you get any other Statements like this one, about a man called Ember or something just as obvious like that, then I guess it'll be easy to figure out that we're talking about the same man, right?
I didn't really notice him, at first. Or, well, I mean, I noticed him, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who went there at any point in December who didn't notice him, but I never- I made sure he didn't notice me staring. Most people did that, furtive glances over at him in between snatches of conversation, morbid curiosity and a vague sort of respect for the kind of person who would bum their days in an expensive place like that without getting kicked out. It was this nice place, had a French name you couldn't pay me to try and pronounce, and it was a little exorbitant for a daily coffee and pastry but I've been going there for a while, anyway, ever since I got that raise in August- anyway, this isn't about me, or the café. This is about him. "Tim Stoker."
He was clearly homeless. Homeless or close enough to it that there wasn't much point to pay attention to the particulars of the situation. Maybe he was just depressed, dragging himself out just to keep himself out of bed, clearly not even bothering to shower or change clothes between visits. If I hadn't worked at a similar place when I was in Uni, I'd have wondered if the workers had just let him sleep there, in that same booth, night after night, instead of kicking him out at closing time and letting him back in as soon as the doors were opened again.
His hair was long and greasy, kept out of his face by virtue of a massive knot at the nape of his neck. He had stubble on his chin, a vague nod at a goatee, but about to the same extent as a fifteen-year-old boy who's never shaved in his life. I suspect he'd have had a full beard if he were able to grow one. He had some expensive-looking tattoos on his arm, from what I could see, a very intricate sort of design going from his wrist to the crook of his elbow, and something else crawling out of his shirt collar on his opposite shoulder. The tattoos were old, though, because like I said, they looked expensive, and he'd obviously been in a bad situation for a little while.
That, and the tattoo on his arm was broken by the occasional scar, deep and perfectly circular, obviously long since healed over. There were some more of the same type dotting the side of his face, so at first I thought they were acne scars until I risked a glance for long enough to notice just how big they were, how much of his skin they took up, and it dawned on me that they must have been from something else. An- an attack, or an accident, or something, maybe a psychotic break? It's always unfortunate how people like that are more likely to end up homeless than the rest of the population, there really ought to be more done to help them in this day and age.
He always wore the same holey t-shirt and stained grey jeans, with the same scuffed sneakers propped up on the bench opposite. Nobody complained about it, even when the café got so crowded that people had to sit near strangers if they wanted to sit at all. Nobody tried to sit across from him, or God forbid next to him. I tried to work up the courage, myself, on days where I didn't want to stand and there was nowhere free but his booth, but I never managed it. He was always glaring around, almost daring somebody to say something, but nobody did.
That doesn't even cover the heat. That corner was always cooler than the rest, before he started sitting there, but when he appeared, it was like he'd brought a space heater with him. It was almost funny- the line to order used to go straight from the door to the counter, but once he started appearing, on the very first of December, I believe, it began to drift to that side of the store, from people just coming in from the bitter cold wind searching for a little warmth. Even then, everybody was careful not to get too close.
Even then, I think we had a bit of a subconscious inkling of what he was capable of.
He was left alone, mostly. Some would send him judgmental glares, and he would glare right back- I didn't intervene, and the poor workers aren't paid enough to care about nonverbal and nonviolent tiffs between customers.
The day it burned down, there weren't all that many people in there. It was a Saturday morning, so the usual rush of people heading in before their daily shifts was absent. I'd had to go in that day, I remember, because there was a project we needed to finish before Christmas break began, and the office party had just been the night before, so our whole department was on a major crunch time.
Even if the place was busy, I'd have taken note of what I saw; since it was practically empty, only a few of the other regulars there with me, it was even more of a sight, and all of us knew it.
Sitting across from the man was a woman who was a bit older than him, though not by an extreme margin- I'd estimate that she was about my own age, and while I couldn't really guess at his, I'd definitely put him as younger than that. I glanced around at the other regulars, who were all glancing around at each other before clearly focusing most of their attention on that table in the corner.
They weren't being loud, but they weren't being quiet, either. The woman was doing most of the talking, and the man looked skeptical at whatever she was trying to tell him. I'd have assumed she was from a homeless shelter or some kind of outreach program if it weren't for her state of dress; artfully disheveled, like someone who wanted to be a punk but without the wherewithal to put on the complicated accessories that most people associate with it.
I wasn't- I'm not a naturally nosy person, I assure you. I mind my own business. But... it was such an odd thing to happen, you understand, and most everyone else was listening in, as well, because it's just- I mean- it was the most conspicuously strange thing to have happened around most anyone in that place in years, it's no wonder that we wanted to know what was going on!
I don't remember the specifics of the conversation. If what happened after didn't happen, I might've been able to give better details, but it was all kind of blotted out by- you get the picture.
She called him "Tim Stoker," a full name, exactly once after she'd called him something else and he nearly hit her- at least, I think he did, though I do know for certain that there was a massive flare in heat from that corner just when she'd said it. It was something demeaning, like, ah, "Assistant" or something? I don't know, I can't remember, the only reason his name stuck in my head was because an old friend of mine recently gave me her copy of Dracula, and the name of the author sounds similar. He- Tim Stoker, that is- kept calling the woman "Jude," no last name. No other names or anything, just that.
Whatever they were talking about, they clearly didn't agree. I risked moving closer, after I'd gotten my drink, and it seemed like she was trying to recruit him into her religion or something, though she wasn't doing a very good job of it; she'd called it a cult multiple times, which isn't the kind of thing you want to do if you want someone to join your religion, no matter how strict some people think it is. He kept interrupting her with crude remarks, or just flat-out refusals, and it was making him irritated, if the slowly climbing temperature of the place was any indication. I couldn't tell if she was strange like that as well, or was just some unfortunate idiot who decided to talk to the wrong person, but either way it netted the same result.
I don't know what exactly she said that finally made him snap. One minute, they were sort of arguing, the next, he was halfway over the table with his hand aloft and she was faced away, with bright red patches on her cheek.
It was obvious that he'd slapped her, and for a moment I had the absurd thought that maybe I ought to call the police, but then I noticed something odd.
She didn't look the same as she had a moment before. Her face- at first I thought there was more fat in her face, or at least she was a bit older than I thought, because her skin was just the slightest bit more drooped than it had been when I ordered my coffee. I thought it was a trick of the light, or the way her face was positioned, but then it- it started sagging more, until it went from drooping to dripping.
Her- her face, it was- her face was melting on the table. Like it was- like she was made of wax, like she was just- like she wasn't even alive.
Do you want to know the worst part of it? She was laughing. Sharp barks of laughter, like wood cracking in the heat of a fire, each breath as loud and sudden as the last. She was nearly crying with it, and all that the man- Tim- he just got angrier. Like he never held the power in the situation, because he couldn't do anything to her. Because all that she would do is laugh.
Before I knew it, he'd stood up next to the table, both his hands balled up into fists. He bent down to the woman and said something, I don't know what, but whatever it was made her stop laughing as suddenly as though he'd just flipped a light switch.
She stood up and left, and he followed, and I swear I got burns just from them passing by- then, once he got to the center of the room, he stopped. The woman kept going, stormed out the door, but he waited a moment before spinning in a slow circle, looking at everyone for a long time, like he was weighing us out against some internal personal scale.
I know I wasn't the only one who flinched at their turn.
Once he'd made a complete rotation, he smiled to himself, a nasty little smile that promised nothing good. He walked, calm as you please, over to the wall, then planted the palm of his hand right on it. Nothing happened, for a moment, and I almost dismissed him as a lunatic, and then-
And then the wall exploded.
Apparently, there'd been a- a gas main through there, or an electrical wire, or something flammable like that, but whatever it was- whatever it was, it was fast.
Everyone was running, screaming, crying, there was a woman I saw trapped in the rubble, I- I tried to help her, but whatever she was under, I couldn't move it, and the fire was coming closer, so I- I had to leave her. I yelled for help, and someone else came, and the fire brigade after what felt like ages, but I- I still felt so awful for that. For leaving.
The rest was a blur. I'm not sure when I got this scrape, the scar on my face, I didn't even notice I was cut until I was sitting in the back of an ambulance, but I- one thing I couldn't have missed would've been if I'd seen the man again. I'm sure I'd have known the instant I caught a glimpse of him, but I never did. He was nowhere in the wreckage, and nobody said anything about having seen him, either.
Then again, nobody said anything about him at all, nobody but me. I know they remember him, I know he wasn't a- a hallucination, or something, because they all got all shifty-eyed whenever I asked. I don't know why, maybe they felt bad about not intervening, but what was there to have done? He made a wall explode just by touching it. There was nothing anybody could have done.
So, I... that's it, I suppose. That's the encounter I had with him. I'm still sure it's a fake name, but I don't know how else to help. I don't have any way of finding a real one. Only reason I'm here at all is because you're supposed to believe me, right?
... I'm not making it up. I swear. The scar can prove it, the emergency records can prove it.
Statement ends.
Jon clicks the tape recorder off, and quietly hands the now-crying woman a handkerchief. He doesn't know how to talk to her in this situation, he can't give the usual platitudes this time because he knows it'll just feel insincere.
So this is what Tim's been doing? Blowing up random coffeeshops and terrorizing random middle-aged businesspeople? Though the idea that he's been in contact with Jude Perry, of all people...
Jon sighs to himself, and puts all that aside. He can only stand to manage one crisis at a time right now, and he's got a crying woman sitting in his office that's a bit more of a pressing concern.
He opens one of the drawers in his desk, and fishes out a small card from the stack kept in the corner of it. He waits politely for the woman to stop sniffling, then gently presses the card towards her.
"We have contacts with therapists who help Statement-givers like you. If you like, you can give this one a call in your own time. I do believe you about this, and we will be investigating the matter as quickly as possible. Thank you for your Statement."
It's a script he's come up with mostly from paying attention to what's made people get angry at him in the past. Thankfully, this woman, Nadia, doesn't seem the angry type; she seems to have just folded in on herself, and shoves the card into her purse where he has no doubt it will be forgotten. She stands, and dismisses his offer to walk her out- it's a straight walk up the stairs, which are visible from his office, so he's not concerned about her getting lost.
Once she's safely up the stairs, Jon sighs and runs both his hands down his face in exhaustion. It's not that the Lightless Flame is a patron that doesn't fit Tim; quite the opposite, in fact. It's just that he'd figured that Tim would rather die than get turned into something that's not human anymore.
Well, he thinks to himself, it's not like he had much of a choice, is it?
He knows that he didn't have much of a choice. He hadn't known there was even a choice to be made when he awoke, only that he had already made it. It was probably the same for Tim, even if circumstances were different.
At least he's not the only one who left the Unknowing changed for the worse.
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ryovel · 4 months
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Revenge Of Dusk[1/??]
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Info:
[Future...? Or present?] Rei Rose, The son of Leviathan and Ryo Rose, becomes the new holder of an old book with a newly made Companion to fit the role more. Together, They travel to different places out of the world they know...soon to be ruined by a group and 'villain'-
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Introductions are so weird to me but Let’s get this over with… Call me Rei Rose, I’m the Son of Leviathan and Ryo Rose and let me tell you. If you think my life is good, it was til i had to do the most weirdest thing in my teenage years that no teenager had to do…Besides Percy Jackson- 
How can I even explain it?  Let’s start with the beginning of how the entire thing happened; 
That day was fairly normal, I was cleaning out the old storage room due to needing some stuff I needed for some stupid project. “When was the last time I was here?” The room was fairly old. Dust covered every surface, The light was dim, And everything was just shoved into boxes. “Okay, All i have to grab is the old family album-” 
bump
I turned to where the sound came from, Nothing there. ‘It’s just a rat’ I thought to myself as I started to look through boxes of junk. Toys, Books, clothes, and so much more piled up before i got to the next box in the way..it was going to be a challenge to find that family album, So i couldn’t waste time on anything.
bump
There it was again, I looked right at the source of the sound once again. This time, The sound continued bump Bump  bump What was it? It was getting annoying so, I just drifted from the boxes and went to where the sound was coming from. There was just a shelf of boxes and some books. Weirdly, One book was moving about on the shelf…a book shouldn’t be doing that on its own. 
“What the..?” I reached out to grab it but it started to move off the pile it was before falling right to the floor, dust coming off it. I stared at it as it continued moving around on the floor, Like it wanted to go somewhere?
I looked to the door before picking the book up from the floor, opening to the first page “The AU book?? Isn’t this the book Fathers told me abou-” What the hell was touching my arm? It felt like animal fur and was soft. It couldn’t be a rat, it was too soft to be a rat’s fur. “Ah, After all this time, I get to meet the holder of the book at last! Ryo- Hm?...You aren’t him?” I jumped up to see this person…At least I thought it was a normal person. It was a fox weirdo who was just next to me “Who the hell are you??” The weirdo stared at me all awkwardly before he spoke(which was almost 10 minutes of silence) “Ah..I am Ryuū, The companion of the books holder..” “Eh, Okay ‘Ryuū’..How did you get into this room?” “Well- Funny story, I got in here by you opening that book” He pointed to the AU book in my hand, It was making some sense ... .if i was a kid.
“So, you lived in a book and only got out of it now?” “I didn’t have a choice! I was getting my energy and body back which took a very long tim-” “Didn’t ask” I set the book down back on the shelf, trying to leave the room before Ryuū blocked my way “Wait, wait! Where are you going?” “Back to my room, duh?” He sighed, looking at me with fake puppy eyes “You don’t want to stay with me or keep the book?” “I do not hang out with weirdos from a book” He gasped as i just slid past him “I am not a weirdo! I had a life before this all happened” “Then go back to living that life” i felt his hands on my shoulder, getting turned all the way around to look at him “I can’t, I can’t even travel anywhere without the holder by my side” 
…. “And what does that do with me?” “I want you to travel with me through the AUs again!” I pulled out of his grasp, trying not to leave the room “Are you insane?!” “Hey, Your fathers and friends used to do the same thing and they are fine…Besides, don’t you want to do something your father did?” He said all of this so excitedly like a kid who got money from the tooth fairy. I looked behind him to the AU book on the shelf, remembering that my father told me to never use the book if I saw it, even caution being used for the book…but Maybe it wasn’t that bad as they said. “Can I sleep on it?” “Of Course! I’ll be waiting for your response!” I could see his tails wagging around before he turned around and went to the book, noticing something hanging out of the book. 
A mist appeared around Ryuū, surrounding him til he was gone, I left the room before the mist got in my way..
What was I getting myself into??
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This was rewritten from my wattpad story, I decided to post it here- Have a good time everyone:3
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I'm kind of surprised that I haven't run into any fics yet where Tim's parents bring something Super Cursed back from one of their archeological digs and either Baby Tim or Robin Tim has to deal with the fallout. Have you/your followers ever encountered one?
I haven’t seen any like that but now I’m very interested
Anyone else seen something along these lines?
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For the AU-Jon wakes up from his coma before Martin accepts Peter's offer?
1. Oliver Banks comes sooner. No one knows why it happens this way, but this is the way it happens, and it mostly goes the same. Georgie shows up, Oliver leaves, and Jon starts to breathe again. It all just happens earlier.
Basira doesn’t tell Martin right away, when Georgie shows up. He’s taken this whole thing so hard, and it might be nothing, it might be nothing at all. She resolves to call him as soon as they have more details—when she has a hold on the whole situation.
2. This happens only two days after Peter has made his offer. He gave Martin a few days to “think it over,” and Martin still hasn’t come to a clear decision. (He thinks that the decision should be obvious—should be—but he isn’t that brave, and he’s never been the hero, and the decision seems impossibly stupid at times, and what if—what if Jon wakes up?)
Peter’s offer is still sitting like a stone in his mind, and he’s halfway considering visiting Jon, for some grasp at clarity—or maybe an attempt to say goodbye—when Basira texts, tells him to come to the hospital. She doesn’t offer many more details besides that, and Martin is out of the Institute and in a cab before there is even time to consider what this might mean. He halfway wants to call Basira up and press for information. The thing that sticks in his mind—the thing he thinks it must be—is that Jon is dead. Jon has finally died, and Basira’s called him there to say goodbye—and that just makes him want to press Basira even more, to demand answers, because what if he’s heading to the hospital with even a glimmer of hope and it turns out to be the exact opposite…
(Or what if—what if he’s awake? What if he’s alive?)
Martin doesn’t let himself hope. Doesn’t know how to. He keeps going over the possibilities—He’s probably dead, or worse—keeps reapproaching Peter’s plan—If Jon’s dead, I’ll have to take it, it’s the least I can do for the others, what will I have keeping me here then… He goes straight to the hospital, and up to Jon’s floor—the nurses know him, and wave him on through—down the halls to Jon’s familiar room, to Jon’s door, all the while bracing himself for bad news.
3. Basira is waiting by the door, and she looks up when Martin comes down the hall. “What’s happened?” Martin snaps, immediately. “What’s going on? Is he—” His throat closes at the prospect of finishing that sentence; he can’t do it, can’t say it…
Basira’s expression is closed off enough that Martin can’t read it, can’t tell if it’s bad news. But then she says, “He’s awake,” and the force of it is like a gut punch, nearly bending Martin in half. His hand immediately shoots for the door, and Basira puts an arm out as if to stop him. “Martin. It isn’t what you think.”
“What is it, then?” Martin snaps, and he yanks the door open, the word pushing out of his mouth entirely of his own accord—”Jon…”
Jon is awake. Jon is sitting up in bed, with a crumpled statement in his lap, and a tape recorder running on the side table, and Martin can’t breathe. Jon looks almost exactly the same as he has for months now, except that he’s awake and alive and looking at Martin. “Martin?” he says—a lot of emotions crammed into this one word—and Martin doesn’t know what to say, can’t get past the reality of Jon actually saying his name.
“Martin, you’re… here,” Jon says, quietly, the statement crumpling in his hand. “I-I didn’t know if… you’re all right?”
Martin starts to cross the room slowly, to the chair he’s more or less grown accustomed to sitting in when he’s visited. He hasn’t said anything yet—hasn’t found the words—and Jon is still talking. “I wasn’t sure if… y-your plan, Elias, Basira hasn’t… hasn’t filled me in, and I… you’re all right? You aren’t hurt, are you? Martin?”
Martin shakes his head numbly as he sits. Looks down at the bed and almost reaches for Jon’s hand—a long running habit, this isn’t his first visit, they’ve become as routine as anything—but he stops himself. He doesn’t know if Jon would want that. Maybe Jon never would have wanted that.
“You, er,” Jon begins, stops. He takes a slow breath, and his voice sounds remarkably well put-together, even after months of disuse. “It’s, uh. It’s good to see you here, Martin.”
Martin chokes a little. “Jon?” he says—he isn’t sure he has the words for anything else—and he looks up, and Jon is looking back at him—something unreadable in his eyes, something almost like affection, maybe—and one of them, or maybe both of them, move before Martin even knows what is happening. Martin jerks forward, and so does Jon, and then they’re embracing, leaning over the bed, Jon’s fingers digging into Martin’s shoulders, Jon’s heart thudding in his chest—Martin can feel it now. And he doesn’t bother to stop himself from crying anymore. He just holds onto Jon—Jon, awake, Jon, alive, Jon's head on his shoulder—and keeps telling himself, over and over again, that it’s all okay, it can all be okay now.
4. Jon ends up staying with Martin. It makes sense—Jon doesn’t have a flat, and neither do the others—Basira and Melanie have been living in the Archives, and Georgie hasn’t said anything to either of them since the hospital (Martin has still never met her). But Martin still has a flat. And Jon deserves better than a cot, after months of hospital beds, so Martin offers to let him stay, and Jon agrees.
The marvel of it is too much—after months of quiet in the Archives, months of growing apart from Melanie and Basira, months of isolation and feeling lost, months of Jon being asleep… the reality of Jon standing in his kitchen, Jon drinking tea at his dining room table, is genuinely overwhelming. There’s a dozen things Martin wants to say without knowing if he should, a dozen things he wants to explain. Basira filled him in on most of the important things, but they haven’t gotten a chance to talk about any of them, and there’s even more things Martin wants to say, if he knew how to say them. He wants to talk to Jon about how much he’s missed Tim—how much of his mind has been stuck in the reality of that first year, when Tim was alive and Sasha was alive, and aside from Jon sort of hating him, everything mostly being all right. He wants to tell Jon about how much he’s missed him, when he was asleep—wants to say all the things he’s been able to say to Elias and a goddamn tape recorder, but not to Jon himself. He wants to tell Jon about his mum. He wants to tell Jon he visited every single week, sometimes two or three times. He wants to talk about how horrible this all has been, and what they do next, how they move on from this, because he genuinely does not know. He wants to talk about all of it.
He wants to tell Jon about Peter’s offer, and he wants Jon to tell him not to take it. Because a part of him still thinks he needs to take it. He thinks about Peter’s warnings, and his promises to keep them all safe. And yes, Jon is awake now, but shouldn’t that be even more reason to take it? To keep Jon safe, too, now that he’s awake and can be put in danger? And there’s still the others, in the same danger they would’ve been before, and they deserve to be safe, too—and Martin isn’t the hero by a long shot, but he wants to be, wants to do something more to make a difference besides lighting some fires while Tim and Jon went off to die. He wants to make the noble decision, even if it will be a thousand times harder with Jon here in front of him. But he also wants Jon to talk him out of it.
Martin doesn’t say any of this to Jon, because he can’t. Not with everything Jon’s been through—in a coma for months, how selfish can Martin be? He makes tea, and he sits at the kitchen table with Jon, and he answers Jon’s questions about what he’s missed, and he tries not to think about Peter’s offer. The urgency in his voice that was probably a lie. He keeps getting paranoid that Peter will see him sitting here with Jon (Peter is not Elias), and that Peter will insist that he can’t be doing this, that he’s breaking their agreement (except Martin never agreed), and then try to tell Martin that the deal is forfeit now, and it’s too late. And it’s absurd, because Martin doesn’t want to take the deal—except he’s scared about what not taking it might mean. Scared about how this will all end, scared that if he doesn’t take the deal that something will happen—and what if Jon (or Melanie, or Basira) die and it’s because of him, because he turned down this chance? Except that he was only going to take it because Jon wasn’t ever going to wake up, and now he’s here, and how can Martin leave now, after everything?
There is simultaneously too much and not enough to talk about, and Jon doesn’t seem to know how to initiate it either, so they talk about nothing. They end up on the couch, flipping through the television channels, and Jon asks some lighthearted questions about what he’s missed on TV shows Martin didn’t even know he watched. It’s easy enough to make that kind of small talk, over other kinds, and it’s enough to get them both laughing a little. They stay on the couch for a long time. (Martin halfway expects Jon to be tired, to need to get more sleep—and halfway decides to leave a couple of times, an attempt to give Jon space, before deciding in the other direction—but Jon never mentions needing sleep, and Martin guesses if he was sleeping for months on end, he probably wouldn’t be tired, either. So he stays on the couch with Jon.)
At some point, they do start talking: about Tim, about the missing months, about how hard everything has been. Martin doesn’t bring up the thing with Peter, not yet, but he talks about all the rest. (The tremor in Jon’s voice when he tells Martin he’s sorry about his mother is almost too much to take. There’s still a lot Martin hasn’t talked about yet.) Martin tries to find the balance—he doesn’t want to put too much onto Jon, with everything Jon’s been through, he can’t do that—but he’s honest, too. He says, I… I missed you, Jon. We all did—but I… He says, It’s been… bad. Hard. While you’ve been gone, and he tries not to think about how often Jon was gone, before the Unknowing; how far Jon pulled away after Prentiss. They had time—limited time—between America and the Unknowing, but then Jon was asleep, and now—if Martin takes Peter’s deal; if Jon has to leave again…
Jon takes a sharp breath. The room is dark, and Martin isn’t looking at him, but he feels it when Jon, tentatively, takes his hand. (Like a dozen nights in his hospital room except Jon’s awake and his hand is warm, his pulse beating against Martin’s thumb, and Jon initiated it, and it’s all okay now.) “Well,” says Jon, uncertain and reassuring all at once, somehow. “I’m… I’m here now. And I don’t know how much help I’ll really be, with… everything. But Martin, I promise… I-I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.”
5. And Martin decides, in that moment, and in the moments after, and in the email he writes out the next morning, in frank, firm language. He decides then. Jon is back, and there has to be another way out, a way that they can figure it out together. So Martin doesn’t take Peter’s deal.
(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)
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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years
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Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)
Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires
[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]
[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]
[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]
When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.
You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.
Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.
“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.
She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”
“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”
Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”
“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.
She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.
“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”
“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.
Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.
He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.
“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”
You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”
“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”
You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.
Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”
You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”
Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.
You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.
“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”
You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.
For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.
You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.
Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.
You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.
Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.
“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.
Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.
You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.
When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.
You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.
Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.
Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.
In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.
Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.
You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.
“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”
You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.
“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.
You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.
You never saw your first year of high school.
When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.
In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.
Proxies always return to him.
Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.
But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.
Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.
“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.
Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”
The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.
Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”
He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’
“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.
The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’
Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.
The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.
Nothing more.
When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.
“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”
“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.
Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.
“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”
Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”
“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.
Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”
“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.
“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.
You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.
You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.
Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.
Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.
The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.
You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.
“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”
The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.
You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.
He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’
You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.
His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.
You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.
“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.
When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.
It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.
“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.
He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’
You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.
He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”
You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.
The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.
Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.
“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”
Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.
“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”
“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”
“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.
“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.
“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.
“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”
Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.
Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.
You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.
Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.
Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.
That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.
You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.
Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.
“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.
You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.
“Come with me then,” he says.
You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.
Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.
There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.
You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”
The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.
The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.
“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.
You perk up slightly.
“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”
You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.
“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”
You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.
There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.
Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”
“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”
Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.
You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.
“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.
You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.
“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”
“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.
The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.
“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”
“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.
The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.
‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.
‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.
Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.
When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the
The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.
“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.
You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.
“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”
“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.
Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.
You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.
He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.
Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.
Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.
He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.
“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.
“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.
You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.
Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.
Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.
You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.
“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”
You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”
“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”
“Why’s that?”
“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.
When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”
You look at him with stars in your eyes.
Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.
Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.
Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.
Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.
Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.
Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.
Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.
And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.
“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”
You get the sense that your teammates agree.
“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”
You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.
Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.
You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.
There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.
Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.
“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.
Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.
“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.
“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.
You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.
A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.
You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.
“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.
You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”
Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”
The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.
Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”
Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.
“Hi, I’m EJ.”
“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.
You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.
“Eyeless Jack.”
“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.
“What? You said I could be real.”
“No lead up? You just?”
“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.
You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.
“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.
“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.
“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.
“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.
Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.
You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.
“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.
“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.
“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”
“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.
“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.
“Will we see these two again?”
“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.
You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.
Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.
“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.
A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.
“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.
“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.
“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.
The two laugh.
Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.
He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.
Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.
Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.
Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.
The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.
You are thankful you are exempt.
Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.
“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.
You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.
You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.
You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.
The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.
You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.
He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.
But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.
He knew.
Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.
Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.
You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.
The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.
“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”
“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.
“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”
“I don’t know how?”
“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”
The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.
He’s not getting out of this one alive.
You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.
Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”
Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.
The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.
“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.
“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.
You pull.
It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.
The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.
First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.
Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.
He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.
Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.
“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.
“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.
“I said that I’m fine-”
“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.
You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.
“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.
You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.
You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.
“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”
You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.
“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.
“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.
You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.
You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.
Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.
The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.
“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”
You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.
“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”
Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”
Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.
Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.
It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.
“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”
When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.
Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.
Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.
Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.
“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.
“I’m… not..!”
“TELL ME-”
“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.
You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.
“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.
“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.
Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”
You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.
“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.
“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.
The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.
It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.
Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.
Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.
You shake your head and refuse to say anything.
The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.
And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.
‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.
‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’
‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’
Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?
He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.
The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.
“We need to talk,” Tim says.
“About?”
“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.
You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”
“Reader-”
“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.
The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.
Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.
Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.
According to Toby, he never even fought for you.
You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.
“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.
You shake your head. “No.”
He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.
Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.
“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.
“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.
You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.
He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.
Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.
You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.
When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.
“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.
Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.
Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.
You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.
There’s four of them, your new family.
A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.
They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.
It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.
“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.
“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”
“Too early,” you cut him off.
“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”
You huff.
Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.
“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”
“Yeah.”
She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”
Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.
Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.
“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”
You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.
“Take that as a yes.”
“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.
“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”
You answer him with harder punches.
Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.
Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.
‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.
“I’ll be fine-”
‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’
You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”
Their face lights up.
The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.
“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”
Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”
You take that thought in and sigh.
Time to face him again.
You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.
Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.
They’re not always at each other’s throats.
That leaves you with Tim.
You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.
It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.
“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.
It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.
“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.
“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.
Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.
Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.
Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”
You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”
“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.
“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.
Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”
For some reason, it makes you giggle.
He lights up at the sound of your laugh.
When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.
Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.
As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”
You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”
“I know.”
“Tim-”
“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”
“Please no-”
“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”
“No-”
“I could ask for you back-”
“That’s enough.”
Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.
But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.
They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.
But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.
And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?
The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.
An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.
You have a job to do, and some things?
Well, they’re better left unsaid.
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nerdyfangirl67 · 3 years
Note
Can you do #39 on the Follower Celebration Prompt w/ McGee. Like he ends up cheating with Delilah? I feel evil 😈~ 🦋✨
Pairing: McGee x GN!reader
A/N: OH MY GOSH ANON!! I love it!! I love a good angsty fic and a cheating McGee?! Yes!! (Does this make me evil too?🤷‍♀️ 😉) I’m going to clarify though that I don’t think beginning seasons McGee would do this, but once he gains his confidence in the later seasons, I could see this happening. (Geez anon, now I’m saying that I could see him being a cheater 😬 I really am evil…) These drabbles are getting out of hand, because I’m pretty sure I’m making each one longer than the last 🙄😬
39. “To think that I actually loved you.”
The excitement racing through you made it hard to stand still as you waited for the elevator to arrive on Tim’s floor. You’d just gotten off a long shift at work and instead of going home to crash on the couch while your favorite tv show played on in the background, you had decided to surprise Tim by stopping by on your way home.
The two of you had had opposite work schedules for the better part of the last month, meaning that you hadn’t seen each other for at least that long, if not longer. Phone calls were few and far between and despite having a very tech savvy boyfriend, you still had yet to figure out how to properly use video calls without somehow managing to hang up on Tim. And as convenient as texting was, you really just wanted to see your boyfriend in person, thus the reason you were showing up unannounced at 10pm on a Thursday.
You flip through the keys on your key ring for a few seconds before finding the key to Tim’s apartment door. You unlock it, your excitement growing as you swing the door open. A feeling of surprise blooms in your chest as you take in the atmosphere of the apartment.
The apartment was mostly dark, a few lit, well placed candles being the only source of light in the apartment, aside from the soft blue glowing light coming from Tim’s computer monitors. A delicious, homey smell wafted out of the kitchen and into what you called the ‘living room’. You drop your work bag and keys by the door, slipping off your shoes as you wonder if Tim somehow knew you’d be stopping by.
Only a few seconds later, upon entering the kitchen, you find out how truly wrong you’d been in thinking this was for you. Sitting at what you considered to be ‘your spot’ at the kitchen island was a beautiful brunette. You’d met her once or twice at a few of Tim’s work functions that he’d taken you to but you hadn’t a clue why she was sitting in Tim’s kitchen.
“Hello.” You say as you step into view, startling Tim enough that he drops the dish he’d been washing.
“Y/N, what ah- what are you doing, here I mean?” He stammers out nervously, quickly drying his hands before coming up to you.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Tim’s eyes shift from yours to the brunette’s, and then back to yours as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.
“In my apartment?” He questions, and for a moment you wonder how someone so smart could be so clueless.
“No Tim. What are you doing here with her?” You ask, jerking a thumb in the direction of the brunette, who was opening and closing her mouth as if she wanted to say something.
“It’s a work thing.” Tim states simply, as if it should have been clear to you that’s all that was going on with the two of them.
“Tim I wasn’t born yesterday. I know a work dinner when I see one and this isn’t it.” You spit out as a torrent of emotions rises in your chest.
“I’m going to go.” The brunette says as she makes a hasty retreat to the door. “Thanks for dinner Tim. I’ll talk to you later.” She gives him a gentle smile over her shoulder before she pulls the door closed.
You turn your gaze back to Tim, the tears clouding your Y/E/C eyes sending a shock of surprise through him. “Why Tim?” You murmur, your words so quiet he almost misses them. He slowly follows behind you as you move back towards the apartment door.
“To think that I wasted years pining over you, trying desperately to get your attention, to get you to see that I liked you.” You say defeatedly as you pick up your keys and bag from where you’d dropped them by the door. “To think that I actually loved you.”
You shake your head softly as you pull open the door to Tim’s apartment. “Well, not anymore.”
Tim watches you go, unsure of what to do, what to say, what to think. He knew he’d screwed up. Although the evening had started as something of a work dinner, it had shortly become much more than that. Secrets had been shared over glasses of red wine, followed by his hand brushing up against hers and only moments before Y/N had entered the apartment, a soft, almost delicate meeting of lips over the center of the kitchen island.
But you meant far more to him than Delilah ever would, yet he’d went and ruined everything the two of you had anyway. He knew he didn’t have the right to follow after you and beg for forgiveness or tell you that he loved you, despite everything inside him wanting desperately to do so.
Instead, he did one of the hardest things he ever had to do in his life; he let you go. He didn’t follow after you and plead for a second chance. He didn’t call you the next day, asking for a chance to explain. He didn’t stop by your office a week later to try and fix the mess he’d made of your relationship. No, he let you walk right out of his life, knowing that he hadn’t loved you the way you deserved, that he hadn’t loved you in the way he’d promised you he had.
And the hardest part, Tim soon realized, was watching someone else love you and make you truly happy, knowing that never again would he have the chance to do that for you.
Tagging: @madamsnape921 @fanfictionwr1tin @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @leroyjethrogibbsgirl @captainxholmes
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themaribatpit · 3 years
Text
Jasonette July Day 12: Dare
Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Dare Rated: T (Drink responsibly my friends) A/N: Maribat fangirl went to Uni in the UK. Most people thought they could outdrink the Americans, and that American beer tasted horrible.  DC fanboy isn’t much of a drinker. Also we planned this earlier, but I saw this blog post from @ritacrow-blogrequesting something similar a few days ago, so here you go.  I don’t know if you’re a fan of the in vino veritas/drunken confession trope, so feel free to skip it if you aren’t.
“So, why are we doing this again?” Tim asked hesitantly, as they gathered in the Wayne Manor lounge. “Because Pixie Pop here issued a challenge, and I don’t plan on letting her win”, Jason explained with a smirk. “All she said was ‘American drinking laws are bullshit’, and it’s not like you don’t know the name of every single bar in Gotham that doesn’t card.” Tim retorted.  “She also said American beer tastes gross, so I don’t know why you brought Budweiser of all things”.
“She dared us to try and drink her under the table, and I’m sure as hell not backing down.” Jason hissed, and Tim decided that it was pointless trying to argue.  The whole reason Tim and Steph were even involved was because they had just turned 18, which meant they were allowed to take part in this little drinking competition.  Alfred was in the corner of the room keeping score, someone had to, considering the night they were about to have.
After they all gathered in the lounge, it was time for the challenge to begin.  Barbara quietly sipped her glass of wine, curling into Dick’s side as she watched the movie playing on the TV.  Jason and Dick had downed a bottle of beer each, waiting for Marinette to finish her first glass of wine.  Marinette rested her back against Jason’s arm as she watched the movie play out, the night had just begun and she wasn’t about to let them win.  She wouldn’t be able to look any non-American person in the eye if they knew she got out drunk by them. Marinette took in the soft glow of the lounge, alternating between leaning on the sofa or Jason’s leather-clad shoulder.  It almost reminded her of her home city at night. She looked around at the people she had come to know, fairly certain she had the dopiest smile on her face at that moment.  
She had arrived in Gotham City not long ago, and she was surprised to find that some of them welcomed her with open arms.  Not all of them, obviously, some were a bit more welcoming than others.  Bruce didn’t really trust her as a magic user, and Damian usually kept to himself.  Preferring to be alone with his pets, Titus and Alfred (the cat). The others assured her not to take it too personally, that they are like that with everyone.  With Jason, it was hard to tell what he thought about her.  Dick was like an older brother to everyone, and in some ways reminded Marinette of Chat Noir, alot.  While Barbara, Steph and Cass were like the sisters Marinette didn’t have.  Tim was at least somewhat curious about her powers and how they worked, hard as he tried to fight it in the beginning.
With Jason, it was much harder to tell at times.  He wasn’t quite as closed off as Damian, though sometimes she found him in the Wayne Manor library reading by the window.  They had each other’s backs in a fight, and the fact that she was much smaller compared to him earned her the nickname “Pixie Pop”.   They worked well together on missions, and there was plenty of friendly banter between them.  There was almost a veneer of sarcasm and bravado.  
The only time it showed any sign of falling was when his pit madness took over.  Even then she was more focused on asking Plagg and Tikki for help, seeing as it was their magic causing this.  There was no fixing it, but they had managed to help get it under control.  Marinette was almost frustrated when he woke up to find her waiting at his bedside, after working around the clock to keep the madness at bay.  The sounds of him screaming and thrashing around were still ringing in her ear, and the most that he could muster was “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there, Pixie.” he drawled.  
“Pixie, you there?” Jason gently poked her on the shoulder and she realised that she had been staring into her wine glass for a moment.  She took a large gulp before setting the glass down on the table, the night had just begun.  
As the night went on, Tim was not impressed with how beer tasted. “People actually drink this stuff for fun?” he muttered. He was starting to think Marinette might have a point about how American beer tasted. Sadly the old adage of “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear” meant that it was too late to try Steph’s approach.  Steph was nursing a Jack Daniels and coke as she watched the film, letting that light of the TV screen dance in front of them.
Later into the night, Tim was getting tipsy at that point. Considering this was his first time drinking, Marinette gave him a smile that said “you get points for trying”.  If Steph wasn’t drunk now, she was going to be feeling the effects very soon.  She mostly drank spirits chased down with soda and juice.  Barbara had already left after a couple of glasses of wine, deciding to leave the rest of them to this game.  Jason and Dick had beer bottles lined up in front of them, almost as if they were competing with each other first. Marinette continued to leisurely sipped her wine, knowing that she was their final boss at that moment.
In the end, only Marinette and Jason were left in the lounge.  Steph left had already left, and Tim followed not long after,  Alfred helped get Dick into bed after he nearly passed out on the coffee table.  “It’s you and me, Poxie Pip” Jason slurred, Alfred occasionally came in to check on them.  
Marinette, who at this point was slightly tipsy, leaned in close and whispered in his ear “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose?”
“There’s worse ways to go, Pixie, trust me.” he laughed, Marinette gave him a very sad smile.  He finished the last of his beer bottle before laying down on the sofa, resting his head on Marinette’s lap. Marinette was certain she could feel her face heating up, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at him.  
“Are you sure my teeny tiny legs can support your big head?” she joked. Great, now she was doing it too. she looked away in hopes that he couldn’t see the blush on her face.  She didn’t get Asian glow, but now she was really hoping she had that as an excuse.    
“I’ve seen you lift goons twice your size and throw them across rooms,” he laughed “besides, this feels kinda nice.” he mumbled.
“Yeah but that was me as Ladybug, it’s also what keeps me from tripping over air and landing on my face.” she explained.  She didn’t think her heart would be able to handle looking down to see one of the few times she saw him completely at peace.  She was used to people who preferred her as her alter ego anyhow.
“I guess you win this round,” he slurred, Marinette still hadn’t moved his head from her lap.  If anything, her free hand was working its way through his dark locks of hair.  He smiled, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the simple yet kind gesture.  “Serves me right,” he yawned, “getting drunk with a fairy princess.”
Marinette turned her attention back to the last of her wine, “there he goes again, making silly jokes like that.” she thought.  “Especially with one as pretty as you,” he laughed. Marinette was about to get up at that moment, now he was just being ridiculous.  “I like you...” were the last words he said before letting sleep take him.  
It was everything Marinette could do not to drop her wine class on the floor in shock.  Marinette thought she heard wrong.  She shook her head, what did it matter? I mean, she had called her friends pretty loads of times before, it’s not like he said he loved her or anything.  These were things that you said to friends all the time, right? At that moment, there was a knock on the door, Alfred came in and saw Jason asleep in Marinette’s lap.  “I was just about to leave could you maybe help Jason get back to his room? That would be great thanks Alfred.” she quickly spluttered before dashing out of the lounge and down the hallway in search of an empty guest room to sleep in.  
Jason tragically awoke the next morning with a hangover and a vague memory of what had happened the night before.  He thought this was probably the very reason why Bruce did not drink.  Alfred came in with a tray of chilli dogs and water, to nurse the hangover.  “Thanks Alfred,” Jason groaned, “do I even wanna know what happened last night?”
“If you must know Master Todd, you won second place in last night’s drinking competition.” He explained, Jason sighed, Marinette wasn’t going to let him live that down.  He still had to admit he was impressed with her. “Miss Dupain-Cheng seemed rather flustered after you compared the experience to  ‘getting drunk with a fairy princess’ and confessed your admiration and affection for her.”   It was all coming back to him now, and he was about to be sick.  He told her that he thought she was pretty and that he liked her. He wasn’t wrong, but it probably didn’t sound as romantic coming from someone who was probably very drunk.   He reached for the chilli dog, hoping that he would be able to keep it down.   “In vino veritas indeed, or in birro veritas in your case”, Alfred quoted.  Jason took a sip of water, still too stunned to speak.  “If you still hold such affection for Miss Dupain-Cheng, might I suggest telling her when you’ve sobered up?” he suggested, giving Jason a slight sympathetic smile.
“I’ll try, thanks Alfred” he replied as Alfred left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.  
A couple of days later, Marinette was sitting in her studio, drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate.  Jason hadn’t called her or spoken to her since the party, and she had hoped that he had just drunkenly forgotten his little drunken confession.  It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it just felt like there was no point in putting stock in something he said while he was so very drunk.  It almost made Marinette laugh a little at the thought.  Her phone buzzed, it was a message from Jason:  “Hey, you busy today? I’ve got something to tell you.  Sober, this time”.  Marinette smiled, maybe this time there was truth in the foul tasting American beer.
 BONUS: The next morning in the Batcave... Tim: That tasted like actual vomit.  Dick: It's an acquired taste, Baby Bird. Tim: Which is to say you were peer pressured into liking it.
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beigehearts · 3 years
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mmm this does intrigue me... A LOT I love the crazy hillbilly vibes fem!reader
CW: corpses(very descriptive!), blood, kidnapping, puking
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It's an early morning, and the dew on the grass shines when the sun hits is. Mother is helping the servants make breakfast and father has gone into town for work. It's not often that you wake up so early, and you would like to enjoy your time outside. Mother does not like when you wander around outside because you always come back with the hem of your dress dirty and tattered. In order to avoid the wrath of your mother, you put on some pants that one of the stable boys let you borrow. Oh but if mother ever saw you in pants when not riding, then you would have to pray for your life.
You lay down in the damp grass, trees providing some shade, but sun still covering your body. It's a beautiful day, you think you may go horse back riding later. Your favorite horse, Tim Tam, would be excited to see you.
Wind blows, rustling the grass around you, sending a chill up your spine. You can just barely see your house in the distance, you walked quite a ways.
The sound of a horse clopping nears, stomping in the grass and surely leaving tracks. You sit up and look around, but can't find the source of the sound. One of the stable boys must have taken a horse out for exercise. Without warning, a horse leaps out of the trees, it rears in front of you and lets out a bellowing neigh. You gasp and scatter backwards.
The horse brings it's hooves down with a loud 'thump'. A man sits atop the horse, tall and intimidating. He dawns dark clothing, between farm clothes and noblemen clothes. There is no other way to explain it. His hair is tied up in a pony tail, and it is quite long. But that's not what catches your attention. It's his eyes. Dark and hollow, endless, hypnotizing.
You clear your throat and stand up, patting the dirt off of your pants. "Hello sir, what brings you around here?"
His voice is flat, monotone, and unchanging. "Get on."
"Excuse me?" You ask, completely baffled.
This scene reminds you of an old story your mother told you. Somewhere in Greece there are two gods, a dark one taking the woman who is amongst the flowers.
He seems angry, only slightly furrowing his brows. It's his eyes that tell you he's frustrated. He leans down, and grabs you by your bicep, gripping it tightly.
"Hey! That hurts!" You yelp out.
There's no time to react when he yanks you from the ground, seating you in front of him on the saddle.
"What are doing?!" You exclaim, unable to move with one of his arms holding you against him. He digs his stirrup into the side of his horse, and with one hand holding the reigns, rushes off.
No matter all of your screaming and crying, there is no escape or answers. Eventually your throat is raw from the yelling, and you fall silent. It feels as if you speak that blood would fill your mouth. Soon enough, a fence comes into view. Beyond the fence you can barely make out a farm house across from the acres of fields. The horse jumps the fence, and trots contently towards the house. As you get closer, you realize just how big this house is. It must be three times as big as your own house. There's a barn to the side of it, it's doors wide open, but it seems that there are no animals inside.
A servant is waiting outside of the house, and when the both of you dismount the horse, he leads it to some stables. The man who abducted you grips your wrist tightly, enough that you know there will be bruises. He remains quiet, and you do the same. The doors are grand, and he pushes through them. He leads you through the foyer and to what must be the Great Chamber of the house. Sitting in a love seat with a round wooden table in front of her, is a tall woman dawning a fascinator, and an elegant dress.
Without turning to look at you she says, "I see you obtained her Illumi. The servants are waiting in her room." So his name is Illumi?
"Thank you mother." He returns.
He leads you up excessively tall stairs and down a hall to a door with locks on the outside of it. He pushes you inside and locks the door behind you.
In the room there are three women, standing in a line with their heads bowed. "Welcome my lady." Says the woman in the middle. The woman to the left follows, "We are to wash and dress you." The woman on the right adds, "Please allow us to do so."
Soon enough, you're sitting on a chair in the nude, the women using cloths on your body. They dip them into the bucket with soapy water, and rubs the cloth up and down your body. You're dressed in under garments, and then in a round gown. Your face is covered with powder, some light lip balm rubbed against your lips, giving them a rosy tint. Lastly, your hair is styled in a way that it never has been, it takes two hours.
It's dark by the time the women unlock the door and leave. You wander around the room, examining the furniture. The curtains are drawn, so you look outside. It's hard to see anything in the dark, the light from the barn being just bright enough to see in the distance. There's a thump from below you, and you peer down closer to the house. Someone is dragging something off of the deck, but as they get further away from the house, you are unable to see them.
If being abducted weren't enough evidence, there is definitely something wrong here. When you try to speak, all that comes out are quiet whimpers and squeals. It's painful to the point you wish you had never tried to speak.
You realize that the bedroom door is cracked, leading to the dark hallway. You make your way over to the door and peek your head out, looking both ways down the hall. It's almost pitch black, the only light from a window, shining bright moonlight. You step out and find yourself wandering to the end of the long hall. A room with two doors which are wide open presents itself. A man sits on the unusually large bed, examining your every move.
He calls out to you in the darkness, "Come in. I don't bite."
You tip toe towards him, standing in front of the bed where he sits. He's large, the moonlight reveals his muscles, and glowing blue eyes. "You will make a wonderful wife." He leans forwards, and pets your face, holding your chin in his hand.
"So strong, so smart. Yes, a wonderful wife for my son." He says. You would protest but there is no way you could produce sounds from your mouth. These people are fucking crazy. "Go on now, explore your new home."
You happily do as he says, pulling your face away from his hand and scurrying out into the hall, and down the stairs. Have these people not heard about candles? They have servants, so they must be able to illuminate their house.
The house is eerily still, the air stiff. The front door, you'll go out pf the front door. But you have a feeling if you try to escape there will be someone on guard.
You push through the heavy doors, needing to put all of your weight and strength in order to open it. The door slams behind you, and you let out a sigh, wiping sweat off of your forehead. Yes, they are neurotic.
This is where you saw the person below you dragging something. There's a path in the grass where something has been pulled through. It's flattened it, leading far away.
You pick up your dress, stepping down the stairs and following the path. Eventually your arms get tired and you drop your dress to the ground, allowing it to be tainted. Your feet begin to hurt as well, so you pull off your shoes and carry them. The grass is wet, and makes a gross squelching sound when your feet meets the ground.
Soon enough a light can be seen, it's the barn. The path leads directly to the barn. Your dress is muddy, the beautiful peach color having turned into a gross black and brown color at the hems.
Your heart begins to pound as you begin to near the wooden structure. You debate turning around and going back to the house, or even trying to escape... but something compels you to continue.
The doors are shut, before they were wide open. Once you step onto the concrete in front of the doors, you wipe your feet on it. Trying to get the gross muddy feeling off, not accomplishing this. You take a moment to gather yourself, and grab the handles of one of the barn doors. Similarly to the house, the door is just as heavy. Your feet scrape against the ground as you pull on the door, causing them to bleed. Quickly you slip inside the door before it shuts on you. Your feet sting and your hands burn from the effort.
It stinks, it smells absolutely rancid. It smells like rotting bodi-...
Humans. Corpses. They hang from the ceiling upside down, being drained of their blood as farmers do with chickens. The ground is covered in blood, a puddle of it that you could swim in. Some people are pinned against boards or walls, just as Jesus was. There's a large bin in the back where bodies are piled into, hands and feet and legs and arms hanging out of it.
The smell is overwhelming. The sight is overwhelming. You fall to your knees and hang your head back, looking at all the nude corpses. Mortifying. Their faces seem to hang off of their head, as if they're melting. Well, those of them that still have faces. Some are blue and purple, some are missing arms. There arms hanging down from the bodies, as if reaching out to someone for help.
Who could do such a thing. What man would do such a horrible thing. You fall forward, holding yourself up on all fours. There's a pile of hair underneath you, and can feel the bile rising in your throat. You can't help it, everything you've eaten in the past week comes pouring out. But at least it smells better than the bodies.
A hand pats your back, and weakly you turn your head to look up. There, 'Illumi' stands, watching you with emotionless eyes.
He looks at the travesty in front of him and back at you. "It would have been best that you stay in the house." He walks forward, and reaches out, touching the hand of one of the hanging corpses. He grips the hand and rips it off of the body, but there's no blood left in that body to come out. It's bloated and diseased, but he throws it into the bin of bodies.
"Go to bed. I will send breakfast and medicinal herbs to your room in the morning." Before waiting for an answer or a reaction, he leaves, leaving you leaning over your own puke.
You would stuff your face in the puke if that meant not smelling the rot anymore. Instead you hurry out of the barn and collapse on the concrete. 'Oh god, oh god please spare me' repeats in your head. It can only get better, right?
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her-world-on-fire · 3 years
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It Was All Yellow {Jason Todd x Reader}
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MASTERLIST
REQUEST HERE
Word Count: 2,424
Request: Jason or Damain finding you, the happy girl, singing a sad song and crying while on patrol. If possible, do you think the song could be If I Could Ride a Bike by Chevy? Thanks, you're a godsend <3
A/N: Sorry if this wasn’t what you imagined, hope you like it anon!
I LISTENED to the sound of own heartbeat. It echoed loudly, and I looked over at Jason, fearing he would wake at any moment. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as we got to the apartment. I didn’t blame him, almost every night he was working himself to death. Crime rates increased with every new vigilante. The work never seemed to stop. No matter how much we tried it seemed like Gotham was the same as we left it the night before. I watched as his chest slowly rose then fell. His face was expressionless, his usual smirk was gone.
Jason was sore, I could tell by the way he moved he was in pain. He tried his best to hide it, but I noticed it. I noticed that he hot showers to try and ease the pain. The steam flowed from under the crack over the door, and found its home on the mirrors and walls. Every night before he went to sleep he would sneak into the kitchen and take ibuprofen. I could hear the pills rattling inside the bottles, and his hushed footsteps as he hurried back into his room.
This was the most peaceful I had seen him all week.
His head was resting on my lap. I pulled the blanket over him as gently as I could. It was only 8pm, he needed to sleep to recover. I didn’t have to worry about the boys waking him up. Jason had insisted on getting his own place. He knew I never felt quite at home in the manor, and let me stay with him.
I turned off the TV and leaned against the arm rest. I wanted to try and get some sleep too.
I woke up to the sound of Jason’s phone ringing. I looked around, and he wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. My best guess was the shower. I grabbed his phone, it was Artemis. I bolted to the bathroom. “Jason!” 
I reached the bathroom door and he immediately swung it open. He looked over at me. “What? Are you alright?” I held up his phone.  He looked at the caller ID. “Oh shit.” He took his phone, and answered it, bringing it to his ear. “Hey.”
I looked at Jason, his hair was still soaking wet. The water dripped from his hair down to his neck, them his chest. He had his towel wrapped around his waist. I motioned I was going to go into the kitchen. And he nodded and closed the door. He spoke quietly. A few moments later I heard him move into the closet.
Artemis.
Artemis was a former teammate, and from the way Dick told it, they were more than that. I tried my best to push the negative thoughts out of my head. I started making breakfast when I heard a loud crash. “Jason?” I moved away from the kitchen and into the hallway. I heard rustling coming from inside his room. “Jason? Are you okay?” The door opened and Jason emerged with a duffel bag. “Have you seen my holster?” He didn’t look at me as he zipped up his duffel bag.
“It’s in the laundry room.” He moved past me and to the laundry room. He didn’t speak. He moved back and forth between the rooms collecting his things. “I paid this months rent. Alfred will continue the payments on my behalf just in case.” I blinked in shock. A month’s rent? Just in case?
“You’re leaving?” He stayed silent. He looked over the apartment, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Finally he looked over at me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reached for the door and paused. He mumbled something under his breath. He turned back to me and pointed a finger.
“Don’t go out on patrol alone.” With that, he was gone.
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Dick had noticed a change in Y/N’s behavior. Normally, Y/N was the highlight of patrol. Constantly positive and bubbly, it made the night go much faster. But since Jason left, Y/N was quiet. No more humming, the laughter that had once illuminated the night was gone.
Not even Dick knew why Jason was gone. It was Jason didn’t want any backup, it was something he needed to do alone. He didn’t want to risk Y/N getting caught up in his mess. He was sending updates to Jason but he wasn’t sure that he was getting them. If Jason wanted to be alone, he knew exactly how to do it. He cut off all forms of communication and was consumed by the job. It had been 2 weeks and he was silent. No one knew where he was. No one knew if he was even alive. Roy informed Dick that Jason had stopped by for supplies. But he hadn’t heard anything since.
Whatever he was doing, he was sure to hide it. No news reports caught wind of his activities. For his sake, Dick hoped that Jason was on the right path. The last time Jason broke his promise to Bruce beat him until he was almost unrecognizable. Jason had even remarked he had never seen him hit the Joker as hard.
There was an insatiable anger in Bruce. He had trusted Jason to operate in Gotham under the condition he wouldn’t kill anyone. Then Jason went on national television and nearly killed Cobblepot, by shooting him point blank. The boys were at a loss, neither of them knew what to do. Bruce insisted on dealing with it himself. Jason only got away because Roy saved him. Dick wasn’t sure how they would stop Bruce this time.
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Jason slung his duffel bag across his shoulder. He released a sigh as he stretched. He had been driving all night to get back as soon as possible. He had a lot of explaining to do. He had received all of Dick’s messages.
Let me know you’re alright.
Tim can’t track your location, just check in.
Jason we haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks.
Y/N’s not doing good.
He felt guilty for just leaving, but he had to. He knew that if he gave explanations then Dick would try and talk him out of it. It would give Tim more time to figure out how to track him. More importantly he knew if Y/N had asked, he would’ve stayed.
Jason entered the apartment. After being gone for so long it seemed almost foreign. There were a few noticeable changes. The curtains that were almost always drawn open to let in the sun were shut. More importantly it looked empty. Almost as if no one was inhabiting it.
There was no evidence of dirty dishes, no laundry, and everything was spotless. It was too clean for anyone to be living here. When he opened the fridge his suspicious were confirmed. There was no food. It was almost empty, apart from a case of water. He sighed, Dick was right. Things were not good. He looked around the apartment, trying to find any hint of where Y/N went.
The only thing missing, was a single outfit.
Y/N’s suit.
Jason decided to visit all the patrol spots he knew. Each one of them came up empty. Just as he was about to give up, he heard something. Jason stopped. He faintly heard a voice in the distance. It was barley audible, but he somehow caught it. He tried to find the source, he walked towards the stairs. It had to have been coming from the roof top. As he got closer, he heard an accompanying soft piano.
“If I could sail a boat I'd cruise across the sea. A sweet adventure for us two. I'll be Jack and you rose.”
The voice began to falter, there were so many emotions just begging to be released. Jason didn’t want to interrupt, in fear of the voice stopping. He didn’t walk completely up the stairs. He was mesmerized by the sound. He stayed at the bottom steps, as quietly as possible. It took him a while to process that he knew the voice.
It was Y/N. He had not ever heard Y/N sad. He continued listening as the voice grew louder. “Just please don't let me go. Cause I'll be nothing without you.” The desperation made Jason want to make his presence known. He wanted Y/N to know that he was there. He wanted to help, more than anything. He slowly walked up the stairs. “Oh when you call me, I'm drifting on clouds. Like I'm dream-ing.”
“But in the morn-ing, I'll wake up and see that you’re stuck here with me. If only you knew what I would do for you I'd jump up and hold you so tightly.”  With every verse, the voice grew softer. There was more sadness in each line. He listened carefully to the lines, trying to piece together the information. Each line made it apparent, unrequited love.
-
“But I will never be able to do these things, so I'm just left imagin-ing.”  As the song ended, I finally let all my emotions go. No one knew where Jason was and I was beginning to give up hope. I was sitting on the ledge of the rooftop. Police scanners were quiet. There were no distressed civilians. For once it seemed like Gotham was having a good night. Jason wasn’t here to see it. I moved to get up, in search of something. I had been trying to distract myself as much as possible with work. I couldn’t stand being inside the empty apartment anymore. For the first two weeks I stayed in hoping that one night Jason would come back and everything would be okay. But by the third week, it was evident he wouldn’t be back any time soon. When I did sleep, I stayed with Roy. We had been working together to try and track Jason but it appeared he had learned some new tricks.
I heard a creak come from behind me. I turned around immediately, but there was nothing there. I was about to venture down the stars when I heard something. “Hey.” I froze. That voice. I turned around and saw Jason. He was in his street clothes. He looked drained. There were a few small cuts and some bruising on his face. I moved closer to him, and let out a breath I had been holding in. I was relived he was okay, but I was angry at him for leaving.
“I didn’t know you were back. I didn’t even know if you were-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence, but he knew. “I went to the apartment and it was empty. I noticed your suit was missing. I figured I would find you out here.” He moved closer and wiped the tears from my eyes. “How much did you hear?” I asked nervously. I was hoping he arrived after I had finished but by the look on his face it was apparent he didn’t.
“Almost all of it.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” He paused, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I just disappeared.” I nodded and thought back to each restless night. Not knowing was the worst part. “A long time ago, someone really bad got away. I lost his trail, but I’ve been keeping tabs on him. He resurfaced and I couldn’t let him get away again.” He put his arm around me, “But I won’t ever leave you like that again.” He placed a kiss on top of my head. Silent tears streamed down my face and I took in his warm embrace.
“Let’s go home. The boy’s have this covered.” I looked at him in shock. He had never called the apartment home. He always said that it was just somewhere he slept. He had never felt that it was home. “I thought the apartment wasn’t home?”
“It’s not home without you.”
We got back to the apartment and Jason reached for the door. He opened the door and I moved to turn on the lights. I stopped, the table was lit by candles. The floor was scattered with rose petals. It was nothing like how I left it. It felt comforting again. “I had Roy bring your things back.” He shut the door behind us. “It’s perfect.” I turned around and wrapped my arms around him. He ran his hands through my hair. “Come on,” He took my hand and led me to the bathroom. It was lit by a few candles. The bath was set with warm water. “I know you haven’t been here much and I thought you would appreciate it.”
“I’ll be in the bedroom, when you get out.” He placed my towel and some clothes on the sink and departed.
Once I got out I followed the petals into the bedroom. The bedroom was back to it was before. Jason had left a mess when he left, and I left a mess moving back and forth between Roy’s. Everything was neatly put away. Jason by now had changed out of his street clothes and into his sleep wear. He was laying down staring at the ceiling. Once I closed the door he looked over. “How was it?”
“I haven’t done that in a long time.” I moved to the bed and joined him. He opened his arms and I put my head on his chest. “Are you okay?” I looked up at him and examined his face. The darkness hid the severity pretty well. Now in the light, it looked worse. “You should see the other guy.” I shook my head and laughed a little. “Really, I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Prove it.” He leaned over and kissed me. It was soft, and needy. After weeks, it finally seemed like it was going to be okay again. He pulled away and pulled me closer. He pulled the covers over me, and kissed my forehead again. “Get some sleep babe.”
“How are you?”
“Better, now.” He ran his thumb across my cheek, “I’m so sorry.”
And for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.
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seoracle · 3 years
Text
DRIVERS LICENSE; ii
Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader
Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, Smut 
Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right…But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Mature themes, Dry-humping and Drinking, Angst warning
A/N: part three will conclude this series, thank you for the support!
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“So Y/N, I’ll only ask one question on the topic but...What attracted you to Bang Chan?” 
“Well, everything really.” You say with a fond smile. “When we first met I had just moved to Sydney and he took care of me. I think I started liking him then, But I only confessed when we were both trainees.” 
“How cute!” The interviewer gushes, fanning herself. “I hope you two have many happy days to come.”
Things had been jam-packed since the news of you and Chan had come out, his fandom had been more welcoming than you had expected and left lots of sweet comments under your social media accounts. You hadn’t done any interviews until today, just music shows or performances. You also hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him since it all went down, not even at the meeting.
In fairness you had both become extremely busy, and constantly were a hot topic for netizens. Your fame had skyrocketed even more so than it originally did, you had now become the ambassador of a major brand and already had a performance booked for the end of year awards with a brand new song.
Your mind went back to your conversation with Chan and how quick you had been to blurt out hurtful words that you no longer meant. 
You knew it was up to you to reach out, but admitting your actions were over the top isn’t something you’re ready to do. You hadn’t technically lied but calling him a sellout was a low blow, and although he wasn’t an angel he wouldn’t say something like that to you. 
Today is a better day than any to deliver your reluctant apology, a fake date is scheduled for a popular book store that recently finished an extension for their in store cafe.You dressed casually and made sure to bring your mask and matching black baseball hat, along with Tims Tams.
Even though it’s only 1pm, the sky is dim and dreary which makes the walk to the cafe a bit more nerve-wracking. What if he chews you out before you can get a word in? He was always good at that. The scent of arabica coffee beans brings you to your senses and you walk in before you can make a run for it and never return, goodbye idol life, au revoir pilates and adiós to Christopher Bang.
“You actually came.” A voice remarks, making you squeal in surprise. 
“What the fuck?!” You screech, placing a hand over your heart to try calm it’s rapid beating.
He opens the door, smiling in amusement at your terror. You settle in a corner with a large bright window, perfect for paparazzi and incase you nervous retch. Chan heads to the counter and comes back with a double shot Americano and a Green Tea Latte.
“Thanks.” You murmur sheepishly, feeling like a complete asshole for lashing out at him.
“I wanted to run something by you, well, to clarify something…” He begins to explain, waiting for your nod of approval before he begins. “I didn’t even know Seungah, or ‘Mijoo’ properly until we broke up. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, I know I still did but I just wanted you to understand.”
You’re taken aback by him not being mad at you for two weeks ago, even though he has every right to be. If he had said half the things you had said he wouldn’t know any peace for the rest of his life.
“Thank you for clarifying, But I should be apologising…” You began hesitantly, did he want you to just move on and say nothing? Still, you’re not that person anymore. “I was way out of line to say all that stuff about you, which wasn’t true at all. You worked hard to get where you are and I’m happy for you, if anyone deserves the world it’s you.” 
While he processes your words with his mouth ajar, you push the Tim Tams to his side of the table. His eyes light up and he rips into them immediately, dunking one into his warm coffee and although you find it semi-revolting, you smile.
You spend the next half hour sharing the biscuits and stories of wardrobe mishaps and what you’ve both been up to in the last few years. It doesn’t take long before you feel comfortable in his presence, not fully but more than you thought possible after all that went down.
Chan ends up finishing the packet and relaxes into his chair with a content sigh, you can’t help but smile at the sight. It quickly fades when you spot paparazzi in heards outside the cafe.
“They found us, totally not like our companies tipped them off.” Chan comments, turning back to you after squinting at them for a bit.
“Quick, act surprised.” You order, as you start making over-exaggerated expressions to the cameras.
The flashing of cameras is nothing new to either of you at this point and you head upstairs to the book section, scanning from classics, science fiction and biographies of people you’d never heard of. Chan spots a section of books with their covers hidden under wrapping and the descriptions written in black ink. You decide on a poetry book from the 1700s with a little sun drawn on the brown paper, Chan picks a Sci-Fi thriller and you shake your head knowingly.
Afterwards, Chan walks you home through the playground near your tiny apartment and makes small talk about music, he picks your brain about melodies and what your favourite synth sounds are. It’s hard to believe less than a month ago you wanted to rip his head off. 
“Let’s sit for a bit.” Chan says, situating himself on a swing.
It doesn’t take you long to join him on the swing to his right, if there’s nothing worse than one idiot on a swing it’s two idiots on swings. Instead of chatting you focus on seeing how high up you can go and Chan watches, shaking his head in embarrassment.
“You’re an actual child.” He teases, grabbing a hold of the rope to slow you down. 
“Hey, no fair.” You huff, grounding yourself by using your feet, turning to him with a pout.
He rolls his eyes and ruffles your hair just like he used to, and embarrassingly it makes you feel happy. Just like you used to back when you first met in Sydney and he was all you knew. 
Stop thinking about the past, you say mentally, what’ll It change?
To distract yourself you decide it’s time to go somewhere else, and get up with the intent of forgetting whatever feelings your brain is fabricating. You can hear footsteps behind you and sigh, he’s not letting you go that easy.
“Where are you going?” Chan calls out, finally catching up to you.
“A bar, I assumed you were still on that drinking ban.” You say feigning your intentions of ditching him for your own benefit.
“That ended two years ago,” He replies with a small smile, “What bar exactly?”
“You’ll see.” 
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“Y/N….you said a bar, this is a club.” Chan says, stating the obvious. 
It’s a small place just on the outskirts of the bustling city, illuminated by purple and blue with none of the  ridiculous cocktail names, dry humping and reek of Victoria’s Secret perfume you became accustomed to in Seoul. 
“Same difference,” You reply with a shrug, sitting down at an empty velvet sofa. “Wanna be a dear and get us some drinks?”
Chan shakes his head with his usual grin and heads to the counter, you can’t help but notice how buff he’s gotten in the last few years. You look away when he takes the drinks off the counter and focus on the fabric of your ripped jeans instead, fiddling with the loose strings.
“A rum and coke for you and a black russian for me.” He announces, sitting down on the other end of the couch. 
“Perfect choice.” You say thankfully, raising the glass to your lips and taking several gulps.
The blond raises an eyebrow, sipping at his caffeinated cocktail at a more leisurely pace, soon one drink becomes four and a round of shots later you can gladly say any warm fuzzy feelings have been replaced with drunk fuzzy feelings. Chan, who's only had two drinks laughs at your predicament as the bartender cuts you off for the night.
“Chris, order another round!” You instructed giddily, clinging onto his arm.
“Yeah, and carry you home drunk? I don’t think so.” He retorts, finishing his soju.
You grumble incoherencies under your breath, leaning into him and shutting your eyes. He inquisitively still smells the same and carries the same soothing aura that everyone seemed to pick up on. He hums to the song playing and you can feel his chest vibrate when he messes up on a lyric and laughs. The alcohol makes everything seem blurred around the edges and rose-tinged, he puts his arm around you and it all feels right.
“Y/N, Y’Alright?” 
“Yeah, you?” You slur, smiling into his neck, you can feel him chuckle when your eyelashes tickle his skin.
Everything becomes hazy after that, you hardly remember Chan helping you into the back of a taxi or guiding you to your front door. He searches your bag for the front door key and then your jacket, you giggle drunkenly, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“Back pocket,” You state with an amused grin.
Chan reaches down into the back pocket of your jeans and the contact makes your cheeks redden and you inhale deeply. He doesn’t seem to notice and clasps onto the key, before he takes the key out you place your hand around his wrist and hold it there. He looks at you with an uncertain glance, his eyes searching yours for confirmation of some sort, arching into his touch gives him the clarification he needs and he presses his lips to yours in a hungry, intrusive kiss. 
You bring your hands up to his hair and tug on it lightly, as if to bring him even closer if possible. Chan groans into your mouth at the feeling and you take advantage of the moment and control the kiss while he eagerly follows, one hand firmly squeezing your ass while and starts to grind against you. The only sounds you hear are his ragged breathing and the quiet whimper that leaves him when you pull apart to nip at his jaw.
“Y/N,” He pleads, rutting against your thigh with desperation. You answer his pleas, allowing him between your thighs, he kisses your ear appreciatively and helps you up onto the low metal shelf by your doorway for better access grind against your sex.
He whines profanities into your neck when you meet his ruts in a more languid pace, it only makes him more desperate for you. You sigh in pleasure at the sight, although your vision is hazy his swollen lips and furrowed brows are as clear as day. You can tell how close he is by how unsteady his breathing is, he cries out your name repeatedly and you coo at him.
“Pathetic, I haven’t even wrapped my hand around your cock and you’re ready to blow your load.” You mock, pretending you aren’t at the edge yourself.
“Ah, shit..!” He bellows, hot breath hitting your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”
You watch his mouth fall agape as he finally reaches his peak, his blonde hair is plastered against his face and his skin has a sheen that suits him well. Chan gasps as you start up again, the overstimulation making him writhe, he slips one hand down the front of your jeans, which surprises you because you still feel secure being held up with just one arm. You rut against his hand, he knows exactly where to touch and your moans only spur him on until you finally reach your own climax, biting down on his shoulder when you do.
Nothing is said while you both collect yourselves, Chan drops you down and presses his forehead to yours while he catches his breath. The alcohol starts to wear off you and fully realise what’s happened and take your keys out of your back pocket, your hands shake and it takes you a while to get the key in and twist it.
“Y/N?” He calls out, sounding helpless. 
“I’m sorry, Chris.” 
Ignoring the downcast expression on his face you go inside, looking at him once more and telling him you’re sorry again and that he should leave. When you slam the door, he calls out for you to open it again, fifteen minutes later he leaves and you’re in the shower crying. You had just done to Mijoo what had been your biggest fear, but she would have never done that to you.
She was a good person and you were disgusting with no morals.
How the fuck had it all happened so fast? Meeting Chris again, loathing him, fake dating him, feeling emotions for him and now practically fucking him? Nothing had really changed, even before the breakup it had always been you crawling back to him and him feeling as if gravity was pulling you two back together just to tear you away again. ‘Cruel fate’ he called it, you call it nonsense to make him feel better.
Whatever it was, it needed to stop or finally be faced.
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It’s just after 12pm the next day when you wake up, everything hurts and you try to piece together what little you remember before that thing with Chris. You groan into the palms of your hands and try to think of a solution, you couldn’t ignore or avoid him, at least not forever. Why did you ever agree to fake a relationship anyways? If only you could turn back time and tell your CEO and the entire JYP entourage to get fucked.
A buzzing under your pillow snaps you back to your senses, realising it’s your phone you slide your thumb across the screen to accept the call. 
“Hello?”  You ask in a hoarse tone.
“Check literally any news outlet.” A familiar voice says in a monotone voice.
“Iris, Should I be worried?”
Iris doesn’t reply and you decide to check Twitter, upon opening it you’re bombarded with notifications that all lead back to a photo of you and Chan making out. The picture has clearly been scanned to make the quality better, it’s grainy but even you can see how easy it is to tell who is in the photo. Dread fills your body at the thought of what management would say, this could compromise all of your hard work.
“I thought you were done with him,” Iris sighs, “God, Y/N... it took you years to get over him, and he has a real relationship.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” You reply quietly, ignoring the sting of her words.
“I love you, okay? But I’m so worried you’ll end up hurt again.” She admits, you can hear her tapping her nails against wood, a nervous habit. “Just be careful, I’ll call you later.”
As the call ends you sigh with a smile, typical Iris trying to show she cares while remaining unfiltered. You quickly realise there's no point in hiding from any of this and get ready for what you’re sure will be an eventful day. 
When you arrive at the company building you’re quick to sneak past the secretary and into San’s office, he greets you with a suggestive look.
“You’re so lucky the apartment’s security spotted and escorted them out.” San remarks, tongue pressing against his cheek.
“I know, don’t worry Iris got to the lecture first.” You retort, pinching the bridge of your nose once you sit down on his uncomfortable sofa, damn hangovers.
San pulls open a drawer and passes you a bottle of aspirin, which falls to the floor thanks to your slightly altered (and loss of ) coordination. You mumble words of gratitude and dry swallow two.
“So how mad is everyone?” You ask meekly, not meeting his eyes.
“Well, no one really is. It got you more buzz and sales but there is a broken-hearted girl to think about.”
Shit, Mijoo.
You get up in a flash and take San’s unopened energy drink with you, as you exit his office you hear him yelling at you.
“Why does your apartment have shelves at the front door anyways?!”
It’s when you get outside and the fresh air hits that you realise you have no idea what to do. Woolim is a twenty minute walk at best, you have no idea if Mijoo will even be there but it’s worth a shot. On the way you stop to get two cans of iced coffee and hope she’s still feeling kind after what you pulled last night.
The Woolim building is finally in sight and you push the door open and are stunned to see Mijoo on the other side. Her eyes are glassy and swollen and she isn’t giving off her usual bright aura, but still she smiles at you.
“Hey, trying to hit me?” She jokes with a wry laugh.
“Mijoo...can we talk?” 
“Um…” She looks anywhere but your eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”
“Seungah, five minutes is all I need. Then if you want I’ll never talk again.” You plead, she sighs but accepts, turning back and leading you to the private back ‘garden’ which is just concrete and a bench.
“Thank you.” You say, bowing your head a little. She laughs and takes a coffee out of the plastic bag when you sit down.
“Formalities aren’t needed between us, what do you want?”
Her bluntness catches you off guard, up close you can see mascara has seeped around her eye bags and dried up. She definitely knew what had happened but wanted to hear it from you, which petrifies you. How are you supposed to casually say the truth and not get punched in the face?
“I know you saw the picture but you need to hear it from me,” You begin, licking your lips. “I kissed Chan, he didn’t return my feelings and he’s probably going to try to take half the blame.”
Mijoo’s facial expression doesn’t change and she takes a sip of coffee, folding her lips into a thin line after she swallows the bitter liquid. 
“I don’t think he ever got over you.” She admits in a downcast tone. “When we started dating he told me he’d always love you a little bit, I just didn’t think you'd come back for him.”
“I didn’t come back for him,” You clarify, “I had no intentions of...any of this. I’m really sorry and I won’t come between you two again. It’s strictly business from now on, you have my word.”
“Why are you so keen on keeping us together?” She says, stunned.
“I don’t want to be the reason anyone is hurt.” 
“What about you then? Won’t this hurt you?”
You don’t reply, instead returning the same kind smile she had given you. Of course it’ll hurt you, but you can’t bear the weight of hurting anyone the way you did, even Chris. For so long it was all you wanted, for him to feel the pain you did that night in his car.
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A week passes by in a flash, between schedules and training you haven’t had any time to dwell on Chan which is nice for once. San and Iris make sure to keep you up to date on what he’s been up to since you shooed him away like a bad dog.
Luckily fake media reports of you two being spotted have been enough to keep the ‘break up’ rumours at bay for now. Eventually you will have to face him, but if Mijoo’s Instagram story is any indication, it’s a happy one of them and their daily coffee trips. Meanwhile all your days are spent in the dance studio, trying to perfect your end of year performance.
Your newest track took two weeks alone to record, it was yet again a song you hadn’t intended on releasing. The lyrics were about being drunk, horny and sad which are emotions you felt most days. The choreography was the most challenging part, primarily because you weren’t much of a dancer to begin with. 
“Perfect!” Your teacher, Hyolyn praises with a satisfied smile.
You collapse on the floor and try to catch your breath, taking a second to gulp down water. Although it’s  hard work, it was extremely rewarding. According to San, you’re predicted to win two awards and nominated for four which was insane considering last year you were #9 on ‘Top 10 least watched debuts’. 
“How close am I to acing this?”You ask, completely drained.
“I’d give it a week.” Hyolyn replies after taking a second to evaluate you.
Groaning, you lie down on the hardwood floors and shut your eyes. The performance was in nine days, giving you little to no time to rest. Iris also had you booked for three days of practicing your makeup for the show, which included intricate and trendy tattoo art all over your arms and littered over any other revealed areas, for hair you would be wearing a wig, lighter than your own hair but similar to how it looked in a recent magazine spread. 
It was all down to you to ace this performance, and you only had one shot.
“Y/N? Y/N L/N!” 
San’s voice snaps you back to your senses, he guides you up from the floor and gives you a once-over and decides you look fine. Then, without a word, drags you down through the busy city and into a quaint cafe, filled with greenery and flowers galore. You spot Wooyoung’s blonde hair behind the counter and smile knowingly, of course.
“Am I here to third wheel?” You joke, elbowing his ribs.
“Shut up, We’re here for you to experience a delectable latte topped with chocolate art and if you’re good I’ll buy you a bean bun.” 
You sit down on an empty chair without a word, smiling up at him. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for a fresh bean bun, especially if it’s free. San goes up to the counter, his laugh echoes around the small area when Wooyoung makes a little joke involving word play. Minutes later, a steamy cup of coffee is in front of you with a cute little bunny made of white liquid and you can’t help but look down in amazement.
“Good, right?” Wooyoung beams, full of well-deserved confidence.
“Amazing,” You gush, taking a sip reluctantly, not wanting to ruin the illustration. 
Wooyoung takes a bow and walks back to the counter, brewing up another order in no time, San watches intently resting his chin in the palm of his hand. What an idiot, you think, although you’re slightly envious no one looks at you that way. 
Several more cups and bean buns later, you leave the lovebirds to return home for some well needed rest. Today is the only actual real chance of resting up before the real work begins, even the thought makes your body ache. But all that fades away when you see a familiar face at your door, Chan.
“Chan?” You say bewildered, “Why are you here?”
“Can we talk?” He asks, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away again.
“Okay.”
Five minutes later he’s sitting across the coffee table, stirring a cup of instant coffee and not saying a word. What is there to say? You were both drunk exes longing to relive old times, Yes you would always love him but he wasn’t yours anymore, he hadn’t been for years.
You weren’t the same person, the cheap electric guitar you’d adored has spun into a customised Fender, his dark curls had been swapped for blonde locks that hung across his face. You had loved and lost him, found him and begun the cycle again.
“Why did you try to lie to Seungah?” 
“She’s your girlfriend, you clearly care about her and I didn’t want you to lose that because of a stupid mistake.” You say, even though it was no mistake on your behalf.
Chan laughs dryly in response, eyes becoming unreadable and dark.
“You didn’t want me to fuck you that night?” 
Before you can reply he's standing up, walking towards you and clearly loving that in your seated position he towers over you. He notices your thighs are shut as much as they can be and coos. 
“Is that all it takes, huh?” He says, mocking your tone from that night. “As much as you love pushing me around and belittling me, you love to be put in your place don’t you?”
A strained sound leaves your throat and you try to push it away, the feeling of wanting him to be in control, to be vulnerable for him. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt a handful of times and always with him. You knew he was just frustrated and feeling rejected, if anything did happen you’d wake up alone to a regretful voicemail.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret, I would call you dumb but that would turn you on.” You finally retort, standing up to fully enjoy the flush of humiliation come over his face.
“Know your place.”  
“Kiss me,” He pleads, soft eyes full of stars. “Just once more.”
You swallow thickly, once more is all he’s asking for. Hesitating for a second, you raise your arms and gently take his face into your hands, thumbing over his jaw the way he likes and press your lips against his. The kiss is firm and chaste, much unlike the last one that was filled with hunger and urgency, this...feels final. Neither of you pull away, Chan deepening the kiss more and settling on wrapping his arms around you over his oxygen levels. 
You feel tears starting to pool within your closed eyes and it burns, finally pulling away when it all becomes too much. His warm disposition is so apparent in his teary eyes and it hurts more than ever, you drop your hands from his face and he takes them into his own, a bittersweet feeling coming to the surface.
“Goodbye again, Y/N.” Chan says with a smile, letting go your hands and heading towards the door.
“Goodbye, Chris.” You reply in a faltering tone, turning away as he shuts the door behind him. 
You’re left sobbing on the linoleum floors of your apartment, ignoring various buzzes from your phone hours later when you finally calm down enough to sit on the couch and numbly stare at the flickering TV. Then it comes up on a pop music channel, your face and his with the headline: Bang Chan and Y/N announce break up. 
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