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#strangers in the night chapter 1
fanofspooky · 2 months
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Horror movies of 2024
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that-plague-doctor · 1 month
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Sharing is caring and I want to share some (horror movie) playlists!!!
The Strangers- Mix of old and new, some tracks from the films and some that I think would fit!
John Carver- Mostly 20's/30's in this one-based this off of the cooking scene in Thanksgiving.
"There's cotton candy in their hands"- 80's tunes, killer klowns inspired
Creeper's Phonograph- As in Jeepers Creepers, love the ending scene of this movie. 30's/40's.
The Invisible Man- 20's/30's, based on Dr. Griffin in 1933.
The Gold Room- yes that scene from the shining formed my entire music taste...20's/30's/40's
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gryfficons · 13 days
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midnitevintage · 28 days
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Details from The Strangers Movies
(*Spoilers?*)
“Is Tamara here?”
*female character takes a drag from a cigarette*
*music track is switched on in the background*
hello hello hello hello
:)
*masked figure breaks door open*
Cellphones and cars are destroyed
*protagonist finds a hidden gun*
Rusty pickup truck
Gut wounds
*protagonist uses cloth to cover the other’s wound*
“Why are you doing this?”
*electricity is tampered with*
*protagonist commits a murder*
The trees are like towers
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meiliariotz · 29 days
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Coming out once again to spread the message that professional movie critics are the most boring and bitter people on the face of the earth cause I just saw The Strangers: Chapter 1 after seeing horrible reviews and I thought it was great
Basically- general audiences, and especially horror audiences, don’t let people who have lost the ability to enjoy movies tell you what to see.
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clearglittersparkle · 1 month
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i watched The Strangers: Chapter 1 and i didn’t think it was that bad but they did A LOT of things that made me root for the killers especially the end. like wdym to be continued that was supposed to be the movie that was the origin what else more is there to show? but i do want to know more about the religious symbolism that’s been in every movie
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Chapter 1: Rainy Night Meeting
Narrated by Yexiao.
Narrator: Cloudcrest has been thriving in the industrial sector in recent years. Now they're building a pagoda in the city center, too.
Narrator: But life hasn't changed much for the villagers in the outskirts. These self-sufficient farmers lead a peaceful life.
Narrator: However...
Narrator: There's a drab-looking house on the hill outside the village. Moss and weeds are growing out of the dilapidated walls.
Narrator: The owner of the house is rarely seen. The villagers seem wary of him.
Villager: That psycho is still living there, huh?
Villager: He's a weirdo. A bad omen. Just you wait, he's gonna bring bad luck to us all!
Narrator: But the house is, in fact, my destination today.
Narrator: It's pouring tonight, and the villagers all have their windows shut. Roaring thunder echoes through the valleys.
Narrator: I trudge along on the muddy, slippery mountain path, umbrella in hand.
Narrator: A bolt of lightning rips through the sky, like a pale fishing net being cast over the washed-out rocks.
Narrator: The frame of my umbrella is already bent and battered. I continue on my way, facing the strong winds bravely.
Narrator: A dim light seeps out of the brick building. I see I've arrived.
Narrator: Even under the eaves, the rain keeps coming in. I close the umbrella and take out the item I hid in my coat.
Narrator: It's a blueprint.
Yexiao: Good thing it didn't get wet.
Narrator: I knock and get no response. Perhaps the sound is barely audible under the strong winds.
Narrator: Patiently, I knock harder, louder.
Narrator: After a while, I finally hear rustling from inside the house, along with the opening and closing of doors.
Narrator: Another flash of lightning briefly lights up the night. As thunder booms, the door opens.
Narrator: A frail, scruffy man appears. Under the candlelight from inside, he looks practically all skin and bones.
Yexiao: Hello. My name is Yexiao.
Yexiao: I've heard you have a lab here. I'd like to ask you to help make something for me...
Narrator: The man's features twist into an expression of hatred and rage.
Weirdo: Get lost, kid! I have no time for your nonsense!
Choose either "He's got a lousy attitude!" or "What a weird fellow!"
If "lousy," ...
You: He sounds like a jerk. He should at least let you finish the sentence.
Narrator: It's fine. He'll become curious soon.
If "weird," ...
You: He's a weirdo like they say. Are you really asking him for help?
Narrator: Yeah. He's the only one who can help me with what I want.
--
Narrator: Before he slams the door shut, I shove the blueprint in his face.
Narrator: The man freezes in place. He looks up, eyes abnormally huge, pupils dilated, facial muscles trembling.
Choose either "You seem to be very sure..." or "What is that?"
If "sure," ...
You: You seem very sure he'll accept your proposal.
Narrator: Yeah. He can't say no to this.
If "what," ...
You: What exactly did you show him?
Narrator: A special design of mine.
--
Narrator: It's a blueprint of a... "monster."
Narrator: At least it's how I'd describe a creature that's never existed before in Miraland.
Narrator: On the left side of the blueprint, I wrote down the concept of the creature and the method to create it.
Narrator: The man stares at the blueprint for a while before turning his gaze on me.
Narrator: He opens his mouth as if to speak. He's a little shocked, a little suspicious.
Man: You drew this? You designed this?
Narrator: I don't reply, but simply snatch the blueprint back and stash it into my coat.
Yexiao: NOW can I go inside? It's cold out here.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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faggot-bastard · 2 years
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Movie Night
1,543 words
Chapter 4/?
The rest of Steve's shift passed quickly. When it was twenty minutes untill closing Robin called out to Steve.
"Hey, can you cover for me, I want to leave early." She says gesturing to her clothes.
"10 dollars."
"But Steveeee. C'mon pleaseee."
"Do you remember when I covered for you so that you could go to a party that you thought Vicky was going to be at."
"Yeah fine ten dollars I get it."
"Thank You." Steve sang happily.
"Okay I'm going to head out then."
"Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Steve that is such a low bar to pass."
Steve laughed. "Bye, have fun"
Robin waved as she left and started walking toward her house. Steve started sweeping the floor while he hummed lightly to himself. Twenty minutes passed and nobody else came in to buy movies. Steve walked to the front and flipped the sign over so that it said Closed. He locked the employee office and then grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. He locked the front door then got into his car.
He turned the key in the engine and started driving toward his house.
He sighs in relief as he pulls into his driveway. His parents aren't home yet. This means they are probably out having affairs and they might not be home for the rest of the night. He should call someone and ask them to hang out. Nancy and Robin are out probably at the movies. So its just Eddie.
He could call him but he hung out with him all last night and he didn't want to annoy him. He could always wait until later and then try to call Robin. No that would be weird and he didn't want to wait for them.
You know what. He should just have some me time. He deserved it. he hasn't had a bunch of time to himself since about Eighth grade.
Steve sat down on the chair that his father usually sits on. He leaned back and sighed. It was so comftorable and relaxing he finally knew why his father always sat here. Steve reached over and grabbed the TV remote. He turned it on and mindlessly scrolled through the channels. Unfortunately nothing good was on.
Screw it he was going to call Eddie and ask him to bring a few movies. He stood up and walked into the kitchen. He dialed his number 930-764-5337 (Not a real number please dont try calling it)
"Helloo Munson residince. Who is this?"
"Eddie its me, Steve"
"Harrington, what's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to have that movie night you were talking about."
"YES, that sounds amazing. What do you want me to bring over."
"I dont know just bring as many as you want. We have all night."
"Okay cool I'll just bring all of them and we can decide what we want to watch when I get there. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"I thought it was a thirty minute drive."
"I was trying to be safe while you were in the car."
"I'm not fragile."
"Sureee."
"Bitch,"
"Okay, see you soon."
Steve put the phone back on the hook and sat down on the chair waiting for Eddie to show up. He walked freely around his house. He got an apple from the fridge and ate it quickly. He threw the core into the trashcan from the edge of the kitchen. He cheered loudly when he made it in.
He was about to look in the fridge for more food to eat when the doorbel rang.
Steve ran to the door like an excited puppy. He quickly opened the door for Eddie who walked in holding a stack of movies and some unpopped popcorn kernels in a jar.
"Hey I brought the movies and some popcorn if you wanted any."
"Yes popcorn sounds amazing right now. Here give me the jar and I'll go make some."
"Do you want me to set up the movie."
"Yeah sure. Can you scroll through the previews for me?"
"What movie do you want to watch."
"It dosen't matter to me, just pick whatever you want to watch."
"You sure?"
"Yeah"
Steve walked into the kitchen and got a pan out with it lid. He heated up the pan and threw a bunch of popcorn kernels in.
Soon enough all the kernels were popped. Steve melted some butter and poured it into the popcorn in a slow inward spiral. He walked into the living room where Eddie had the movie set up.
"What movie did you pick."
"Beetlejuice."
"That is the weirdest fucking name I have ever heard."
"It sounds weird I know but I've heard its really good."
"Hold this." Steve says passing the bucket of popcorn to Eddie. He ran upstairs and looked into his closet. He pulled out three huge fluffy blankets and ran downstairs with them in his arms, trying not to trip. He threw the blankets on his fathers chair and sat next to Eddie on the couch.
"Sorry I just was grabbing some blankets in case we wanted any."
"Pass one over here."
Steve passed it over to Eddie who put it over both of them. Steve pressed the play button on the remote.
~~timeskip to the end of the movie, brought to you by Steve's bi panic~~
"Wow, weird name aside that was a good movie."
"I told you so."
"Alright," Steve laughs. "You were right."
"Do you want to watch another movie?"
"Yeah sure. What movie?"
"What about Heathers?"
"Ive never seen it."
"Neither have I, I just thought it looked good."
"Okay lets do it." Steve pulled the VHS out of the bag and quickly pulled Beetlejuice out of the TV and replaced it with Heathers. They scrolled through all the previews and started the movie right at the start.
~~Timeskip to the end of the movie, brought to you by the fact that I have never seen Heathers~~
Eddie was tearing up and Steve was just staring at the screen in shock.
"What the fuck" Steve said loudly "Why did he- And she- What the fuck."
Eddie nodded in agreement.
"The weirdest part of that movie was that Veronica looked alot like Will's mom."
"I was thinking the same thing. I know I only met Ms. Byers once but they look almost exactly the same except Ms. Byers looks older."
"Maybe they are identical twins, split at birth." Steve says jokingly.
"Maybe Ms. Byers leads a double life. Mom by day, actress by night." Eddie laughs
"Maybe we are part of a show made in about thirty years where Will's mom is played by the same actress that played Veronica and now we are being written in a fanfiction about that show where the author thought it would be funny to have us watch that movie and realize that the lead actress looked almost exactly like Will's mom. We are but jesters in his court. Our lives will be forced to follow his every want and need. Nothing we say comes from us it all comes from him. Free will is meaningless for us. I could die right now if he wanted."
"Uh dude what the fuck was that."
"Shit I don't know, I think something happened to me. I have the worst headache now."
"I feel like you're messing with me but I'm going to get you an asprin and some water anyway."
"Okay thanks. I'm really sorry, I don't know what that was."
"Do you need anything else. I can start another movie if you want."
"I'm fine I don't need anything. I can start another movie for us though."
"Okay I'll be there in a second."
Eddie reaches into the bag and randomly grabs a movie. He pulls out Labyrinth and cheers slightly in his head. This movie looked really cool and he was most excited to see this one. He scrolled throught the previews getting annoyed when it wasn't moving fast enough for him. Steve walked out of the kitchen holding a glass of water and two small white pills that had Tylenol written on them.
"I couldn't find the Asprin, I hope Tylenol works for you."
"Yeah Tylenol is great Thank You."
Steve handed the Tylenol to Eddie and then the glass of water. The previews had finally ended and Eddie stopped fast forwarding it and pressed play. They sat down under the blanket with their shoulders touching.
About halfway through the movie Steve felt Eddie move a bit closer to Steve so that their knees were touching too. Steve smiled and hoped that Eddie didn't see his smile in the dark.
Steve and Eddie were starting to doze off at the end of the movie. Sure the movie was amazing but they were so comfortorable and they were so tired.
They both jumped when they heard a loud crackling from upstairs. It sounded like-
"OH SHIT" Steve yelled running up the stairs "ITS DUSTIN ON THE RADIO"
"SHIT" Eddie yelled following Steve up the stairs.
They heard Dustin yelling through the speaker. Steve dove for the radio and clicked the button.
"We're here. What is it? Where are you?"
"CODE RED, ITS A FUCKING CODE RED."
A/N: Just to be clear I kinda posessed Eddie this chapter and made him slightly contemplate his acess to free will >:) Anyway I hope you like it and please tell me what you think, Have a nice day <3
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ( i need to update these links, visit my pinned post for the updated links)
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billiesbabygirl · 1 month
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The Strangers Chapter 1 is out May 17th! Go watch it! (Staring Madeleine Pestch!)
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noeljpenaflor · 3 months
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The Strangers And Tamara Tie You To A Chair and REVEAL Their Least Favorite Horror Movies! (LINK Below)
Click on this Because You Were HOME!!!
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papermachedragons · 9 months
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Oh man oh man oh man I have draft chapters of my current fic I need to work on to upload to ao3 but I picked up a 400+k word fic and I CANNOT put it down this fic is insane and intense and I am Hooked
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that-plague-doctor · 25 days
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Wrote a fic for the Strangers…. Feel free to check it out!!
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pinkrelish · 2 years
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
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singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶After a lifetime of questionable decisions, you moved from the big city to the sleepy town of Hawkins with your best friend, and took the first job you saw: answering phones for the most boring auto shop in the dullest place on Earth. It wasn't exactly the adventure you wanted it to be.. but attempting to win over the jaded mechanic who insisted on ignoring your existence proved entertaining.✶
NSFW — slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, flirting, mutual pining, angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, sort of grumpy x sunshine but eddie's just tired, reader and eddie are mid-late 20's
chapter: 1/20 [wc: 5.5k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12
AO3
Chapter 1: Surprise, Surprise
“Yes.” A simple answer which spawned as many awkward scenarios, as it did great ones. Your name was spray painted on the side of a bridge, you spent nights learning to tango on abandoned rooftops, the amount of tales you accrued of bad dates could fill a self-help book.
Whatever the question was, the answer was “yes.” Life was more exciting that way.
Well, your policy usually lended itself to exciting adventures, anyway.
Currently, you were sat behind a desk with your boss, Mr. Moore, who slouched on his black stool with his cheek propped on his fist, pointing a pencil at a customer’s pink invoice sheet in front of you, explaining who to call in the spiral-bound catalog for the parts to be shipped.
The tall counter top partially obscured the both of you from employees and customers alike, but as you soon realized, the number of employees was slightly above two, and the customers even less; and if any of them paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell from the disorienting mix of exhaust fumes, dirty oil, and grease wafting in from the glass door on the left.
Thus began the first day of your new job at David’s Auto Repair. Boring.
————
Your second and third days were hardly different. Arriving at the butt crack of dawn and beginning the routine that definitely wasn’t in the ad in the newspaper: clean the bathrooms (hey, at least they had two), start the coffee pot after scrubbing off years of neglect caked onto the inside, and organize the paperwork Mr. Moore left for you in his office.
Oh, and most importantly, after locking up your bike outside the front door, you made your way through the echoey workshop and poked your head out the back door to the parking lot–which, by all means, was a gravel alleyway with overgrown trees blocking your view beyond the sleek black car parked next to the dumpster.
“Morning!” you greeted the one employee who arrived early and stayed late. “Eddie, right?”
The man leaning against the gray brick wall didn’t bother acknowledging you. Didn’t lift his head from its dropped back position, nor open his eyes. Definitely didn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth to bestow you the gift of his chipper attitude, nor did he uncross his arms to offer you the bare minimum wave.
And much like the other days, you sat perched behind your desk and beamed up at him as he walked past you to the break room. And as usual, he slid his gaze to you. And like normal, he didn’t say anything.
But he did hold your eye contact for a fraction of a second longer, albeit, he looked a bit frightened when he did, as if he were suspicious of your smile.
You listened to the clunk of his heavy boots fade down the hallway, then return with him holding a mug of coffee.
This time, as he walked by, he remained vigilant, and your grin went ignored by his stupid big brown eyes surrounded by envious lashes.
Lucky you, the reception area was essentially a glass cage. Behind the black pleather seats for customers was the glowing blue sky, and beside you were floor to ceiling windows showcasing the artificially bright garage where the man in grease stained coveralls twisted gaudy rings off his fingers and placed them on a tray with his coffee, before picking up a dirty rag and popping open the hood of the car he worked on past closing last night.
“You’re welcome for the coffee,” you mumbled in a mocking tone, sneering at his red name patch–Eddie. “Jerk.”
————
Friday was different. You locked up your bike, chucked your backpack into your chair behind the desk, and made your way to the back of the garage for the routine, “Good morning.”
For some reason, you decided to reveal your whole self; more than your head stuck out the door, or rising above the countertop customers leaned on when trying to schmooze deals on parts–hell if you knew how to do that, anyway. You didn’t get paid enough to bargain.
You stepped onto the uneven gravel and surveyed the scenery, looking both ways down the alley to the major roads on either side leading to the heart of downtown Hawkins. Absolutely dismally silent. Void of life. Except for the small things you never noticed, like faraway birds, the hum of a distant motor, buzzing bugs before they disappeared for the cooler months. You felt the dew settling on your forearms, and swore you could smell impending rain on the cloudless day.
“Is it always this quiet?” you asked, face pinched in confusion as you took it all in. “I swear I can hear my own thoughts.”
Eddie may not have appreciated your joke, but he did surprise you.
He kept one of his arms crossed over his stomach, and took the cigarette from between his lips to flick the ashes. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked the dilapidated fence across from him.
Feeling cheeky, you schooled the thrill out of your voice from getting a response out of him, and said, “What gave it away?”
A drag on his cigarette was his wordless answer. Fair.
“I’m from New York.” The implied City followed without clarification. “Just moved here last week. My roommate’s from Hawkins, and she had to move back to help take care of her parents. They’re older and her dad has some health problems, and yeah, I couldn’t afford rent on my own, so you know, why not. Why not follow her to a town so small it’s impossible to find on a map.”
All your talking earned you a magnificent thing. Eddie finally opened his eyes, if only to pin you with a mild glare, and a skeptic pinch between his brows.
He said more to himself than you, “You must really like your roommate to come here.” The inflection at the end was both amusement and contempt, no doubt.
“We met in our first year of college and became best friends like that–!” You snapped. “Both theater kids going to school for acting, and we later made a comedy troupe with a few other people. When she asked if I wanted to move with her, I said ‘yes.’” Inclining your upper body towards him, you explained, “It’s sorta my thing. If anyone asks me anything, I say ‘yes.’ Obviously, I can veto shit that’s dangerous or crosses any boundaries, but it’s my policy to try everything. Life makes better stories that way.”
Your unique brand of wisdom furthered his obvious distaste for you.
Eddie inhaled his vice until the orange glow burned to the filter. Smoke fell from his mouth in a rush as if he were about to speak again, but he didn’t. He merely stared at you. And if he were having a staring contest, he won.
“Well, have a good day, then,” you said, spinning on the toe of your shoe.
You sat in your glass zoo for the day shuffling papers, making calls, and filling out forms. Most definitely not talking to the guy who appeared annoyed at your very existence.
Unfortunately for him, Hawkins was tiny and the pickings were slim.
Maybe it was his eyes, or the way the short layers of his choppy hair cut escaped his low bun to curl themselves in face-framing waves, or the fact he was twenty-years younger than the other two mechanics, but you took a liking to Eddie, much to his dismay. And due to your affinity for his annoyance, you noticed the subtle changes in his appearance sooner than you should. 
————
Dark purple circles announced the lack of sleep under Eddie’s eyes before the bags could. Bloodshot and struggling to open past a sliver, he sucked down half his cigarette before the routine minutes of peace he carved into his strict schedule were interrupted by the newest knot in his muscles.
“Good morning!” you said.
“Morning,” he returned without thinking about it. Rookie mistake.
You stood closer this time, inching down the brick wall, approaching him as if he would startle like a wild animal to get a better look at the years wearing heavy on the fine lines etched into his face. Perhaps no longer ‘fine.’
“You good?”
He didn’t have the energy to put up his usual front. With his chin dipped to his chest, he kept his eyes closed, nearly drifting to sleep as he muttered, “Long night.”
“Ah.”
Your clumsy shuffling alerted him to your movement, and he reluctantly observed you standing a few feet in front of him, rocking on your heels. He filled his chest with an incredulous sigh before you even spoke.
“You seem like you could use some cheering up,” you beamed. “I could juggle for you! Should I do three or four?” Eddie’s jaw went slack, and the cigarette stuck to the wetness inside his chapped lips. You bent down to gather large rocks into your palms, opting for four when he didn’t answer.
You stood up and stepped back. Made a big show of tracing invisible arcs above your head with your gaze, readying your hands. Sucking in a breath. Building suspense while his expression slowly crept into one of tempered curiosity.
Tensing, you tossed all four rocks into the air, and made a genuine effort to catch them before they fell unceremoniously around you, bouncing off the gravel in your scramble.
Clasping your hands behind your back in feigned shyness, you announced, “I don’t know how to juggle.”
For a moment you thought he was going to continue to regard you as if you were a bug in his coffee.. Then his veneer cracked.
He snorted. The cute way, when someone’s trying to suppress it. A subtle shake in their shoulders, keeping their head down, and their smile hidden behind the heel of the palm.
Eddie hugged his arm tighter over his chest, and chastised himself, “Why’d I let that get me.”
And truly, when he flicked his gaze to you with the lopsided remnant of his grin, you were imprinted with the heat of his wonderment, and your body remembered that feeling. Sensing it later when you sat at your desk, tapping your pencil, rattling off a series of numbers and letters for engine parts, and you snuck a coy look over the phone at the exact moment Eddie turned around to ask Carl for a wrench instead of getting it himself from the tool box near the window.
And he felt your stare during lunch when you promised an irate customer their car would be ready by the end of business hours, and hung up the phone with the type of heavy-handedness one used when implying a ‘fuck you’ without stating it.
You pushed yourself from the desk and went to the fridge in front of the circular table in the break room, eyeing Eddie’s odd choice as you walked by. A bologna sandwich–fairly normal–but also a stained orange tupperware container with an array of dried out microwaved leftovers. A corner of spaghetti, pale instant mashed potatoes with three peas stuck on top, unidentifiable sludge that may have been beef stew at one point, and a handful of Kraft mac n cheese.
Pitiful amounts of food that most people would’ve thrown out.
Not that you should judge. Your lunch was the blandest rice-based meal your roommate’s mom made the night before. The woman had never heard of salt, much less other spices, but she was letting you live in their attic for free until you and Bobbie found a place to live.
Breaking your chain of thoughts, you smiled at Eddie on your way out.
He didn’t look up from his paperwork.
Wholly ignored.
————
Over the rest of the month, you learned there wasn’t a definitive pattern to which days of the week were hardest for Eddie, but it was clear when he was enduring the worst.
As the evenings grew cooler, you left the lobby door open, and in doing so, were wise to the bite in his words, the edge to his voice. The quick apologies to Carl when he let his frustration show. The fluidity of ‘fucks’ flying past his mouth, the way he wrung his nape while staring into the distance, and the lurking stress of bottled emotions causing his teeth to grind.
He approached you with concern spurned from the windows being painted black with night.
“You don’t have to stay behind, you know that, right?” Eddie got your attention in the doorway. You blinked at him, still seeing the words of the book you were reading swim past your vision. “I have a set of keys. I can lock up when I’m done.”
It was the most he’d said to you in two weeks. Three entire sentences composed of more words than he’d uttered if you added them all up since your juggling stunt.
“I don’t mind.”
A meager response which resulted in a standoff.
Eddie wasted no time bunching his shoulders at your defiance. He left streaky fingerprints on the door handle as he reached for his neck, and tucked his fingers under his collar to run his thumb along his chain necklace in a self-soothing gesture. A layer of grime coated his skin. His disheveled hair stuck to his sweaty, dirty neck. The front of his coveralls were blackened with grease, as was the white tank top he wore underneath, peeking above the unfastened top snap.
On the other hand, you overturned your palms and glanced around the barren room. “Is it really that much of a bother that I’m sitting in here being quiet?” you drawled.
“Yes.” Automatic irritation.
“It’s not like I have somewhere to be.”
“Don’t have a comedy routine to rehearse with your roommate?” he intoned in complete monotony.
“Ha-ha,” you replied, just as emotionless. You thought about correcting him in regards to you and Bobbie no longer doing stand up, but decided to grab your backpack and leave without putting up a fight. His concern about you staying late may not be genuine, but it was evident he wanted–or needed–you gone. You didn’t want to push his boundaries when he showed this level of discomfort, especially when the burden of fatigue wore beyond acceptable exhaustion, and he was ready to snap, no matter how hard he tried to quell it.
You surrendered, “Bye, Eddie.”
No reply.
In total darkness, you unchained your bike and hopped on, pedaling past the mailbox when you heard the thunderous slams of the service doors being lowered shut.
And you made it to the edge of the trees before coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty street, cracking your neck at the speed of which you whipped around to gawk.
Your heartbeat skipped, then timed itself with the extreme drum beat and opening wail of a guitar accompanied by high-pitched screamed lyrics.
The music may have been muffled, and the inside fluorescent lights struggled to penetrate the dense fog from the upper warehouse windows, but it was as if Eddie was subjecting the desolate parking lot to his own personal Judas Priest concert, hearing be damned.
You didn’t even know the dusty radio in the shop worked. But whatever helped him blow off steam, you supposed.
————
Today was a good day.
Eddie liked Fridays. Most people working weekdays did, but when he came inside early from his morning cigarette, and you hadn’t finished sweeping the shop, he made a point to idle around the orange car at the center, seeking your attention and offering an apology. Not a spoken apology, mind you. But it was rare he initiated eye contact, and when he did it with the purpose of showing deference in his softened features, you understood.
You forgave him with a gentle lift at the corner of your lips for an incident yesterday afternoon, wherein he grunted at you to leave him alone when you were telling him about one of the plays you and Bobbie acted in. Sometimes you required your own reminder of when you were being annoying, and gave him an apologetic smile for bothering him. He nodded. All was right with the world. All was forgiven and now he could get to work.
He wiped his hands down the sides of his coveralls, and leaned his upper half through the open car window to reach the latch for the hood.
The perfect opportunity to mess with him presented itself in all its glory. But first, you couldn’t resist taking a long.. long look at his backside, head tilted, mouth more than a little hung open.
“Huh?” He nearly banged his head on the roof, rounding on you with the sharpest glare in the Midwest.
Under the guise of perfect innocence, you kept brushing the broom over his work boots and toward the dust pan. “Sorry, sir, just doin’ my job. Gotta clean up the filth.”
“An actress and a comedian, huh?” he posed, allowing his smirk to foster as he gripped the edge of the door. “Gonna tell me you were a clown, next?”
“Actually..” You were interrupted by Carl coming in, followed by the near-retired Kevin who worked two days a week.
You greeted them loud and proud, overdoing it in the joy department at the ripe morning hour. Asking about Carl’s wife, and Kevin’s dog; really laying it on thick for the purpose of sending a message to the looming ghoul behind you: I’m annoying you on purpose now.
Still, as you entered the lobby, you caught sight of the sneaky grin on his face before he turned his back to you. A tight-lipped thing he was clearly trying to rid himself of while pulling his hair back into a low bun, and taking the time to tie up a bandana to keep everything out of his face, thus losing his security blanket from the world perceiving he wasn’t in a permanent bad mood.
And of course, Eddie kept up his act through lunch. Stomping through the lobby in that way people did when they were so very obviously trying to appear aloof, and coming across as anything but. Eyes staring straight ahead, but too wide and too aware to not be soliciting a reaction from their periphery. Chest out, muscles flexed. Posture the very opposite of casual, causing them to walk in a stilted manner like a robot.
And his charade continued when he came back from the break room, rounding the corner with softer steps. Slower. Hanging onto the precious milliseconds where your back was to him, and he could absorb your image freely without being noticed. Then, he lifted his chin and returned to his project, pretending you weren’t there.
Yep, so painfully obvious when he forgot reflections existed and you were surrounded by glass.
~~~
Fridays were the days he anticipated most. Work was grueling, and he had many things to finish before the break for the weekend, but he didn’t mind staying late. He preferred it.
Fridays meant he could rely on someone else handling the stressors at home, and he was free to earn his late hours at the garage, indulging in his loud music, and unwinding the constant state of tension lurking beneath the surface. It was the only way he knew how to cope. To stay sane.
Yeah, he loved Fridays. Until a surprise came running at him in her tiny pink shoes.
Eddie screwed his eyes shut and exhaled a long, hard breath through his nose.
“Sorry,” came Wayne’s earnest apology as his nephew wilted; shoulders sagging, head hung. Tapping the wrench he was holding on his thigh. Trying his best to keep it together. “Don’t mean to drop ‘er off on you, but work called me in, so I came here after picking her up.”
Turning away from the engine he was installing, Eddie assumed his authoritative voice, but it came out as a weary sigh. “Adrienne, you know the rules,” he warned lowly, “No running in the shop.” After a beat, he corrected himself. “I mean, no being in the shop at all!”
She giggled as she skipped away from him, sloppy pigtails bouncing with mirth, plastic glittery shoes slapping the concrete floor where a myriad of items she could trip on laid.
“Adrie!” He called out, but she was too busy opposing him to pay attention.
Lucky for her, a certain receptionist caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into a rogue tire.
“Whoa there, little Miss!”
You looked to Eddie for further instruction on what to do with the girl currently laughing up a storm at your feet, but he was frozen. A bit paler, and wringing the back of his neck. Unable to articulate any of the broken consonants on his tongue as he stared at you. You switched your gaze to the older man beside him, but he was equally confused as to why Eddie was having trouble speaking.
Addressing anyone who would like to volunteer an answer, you asked, “And who’s this?”
“This.. This i-is my daughter. She, I, Goddamnit–I’m sorry, can you take her inside? I swear she’ll be quiet. Right, Adrie?”
Seeing the pure desperation settle around his eyes, you assimilated into the role of babysitter, wanting to alleviate his anxiety despite the sudden surge of your own. You held your hand out for her to take, and she did so without a second thought, grasping onto you with her little fingers and standing up, being the one to lead you to your desk.
As the door closed behind you, you overheard the older man clear his throat under the strain of bad news. “The water heater is broken again, and I couldn’t– ..Before I had to leave.”
Their private conversation was sealed behind the glass. You didn’t care to eavesdrop. It was too heartbreaking watching Eddie frantically catch his fingers on his bandana before removing it so he could tangle his curls into his fist, tugging them over his face as he groaned in a fruitless effort to hide himself from the world.
But on the subject of his brunette waves..
His daughter had the same curl pattern. Almost the same cut, too. Clearly Eddie was the acting barber of the family. Something you’d find adorable if it wasn’t for the pang of rejection in your stomach.
Daughter. Family.
The words repeated themselves in your head as your eyes wandered to the black tray beside the tool cabinet. He wore several large rings. Lots of jewelry, in fact, but you couldn’t remember if any of them were a wedding band, and the embarrassment of developing a crush on a married man for weeks without taking two seconds to cross reference his left hand burned your cheeks hot.
“Hi,” his daughter said cutely, swaying from foot to foot while holding two of your fingers.
You crouched to her level. “Wanna draw while we wait?” She nodded, sucking on the tip of her thumb.
Steadying your spinny office chair while she climbed into it, you made sure she was comfortable before bringing out the black stool from Mr. Moore’s office, and sitting next to her. You opened your backpack, flipped to a clean sheet in your sketchpad, and presented it to her along with your colored pencils.
“Hmm, what should we draw?”
Adrie snatched the bubblegum pink color, and began her masterpiece. “Mrs. Teresa read us a book about a mouse.”
Thank God she said it was a mouse, because you didn’t want to be the one to guess what the two oblong circles on the page were.
Adorably, she filled you in on the parts of the story she remembered, and added a triangle of yellow cheese under the mouse, then waited for you to prompt another thing to draw. You followed the nocturnal theme and asked for an owl. She hesitated on what colors to choose, and you helped her pick out the shades of brown and tan.
“How old are you?” you asked while she inundated her bird with too many feathers.
“Four-and-a-half,” she said proudly. “How old are you?”
You raised your brows. “Certainly not four-and-a-half.”
At some point, your arm had wrapped itself around her. Maybe to help shift her closer to the desk. Maybe to collect her in a pseudo-hug when she completed her art. Maybe to let Eddie know everything was okay when he craned his neck to check on you while conversing with the man outside, and you put on your best face, grinning at the story his daughter reenacted about a cartoon she watched that morning at preschool.
“What next? What next?”
“Let’s see.. Can you draw me a bat?”
She was more sure of herself, grabbing the black pencil and outlining an entire colony of bats mid-flight with more attention to detail. “My daddy has bats.”
“He has bats?” you questioned, sweeping loose hair out of her face.
She pointed to her elbow.
Thinking on it for a moment, you perked up. “Oh! He has tattoos?” She recognized the word, nodding vigorously. “Interesting, interesting.”
She’d hardly begun to fill in their wings when Eddie opened the door, and held up the comically small backpack slung on his arm, signaling it was time to leave.
You helped her down from the chair, and she excused herself to the bathroom, which only contributed to the awkward silence when she disappeared down the hall and Eddie was forced to wait at your desk.
It didn’t have to be analyzed, nor stated. The reality.
He had an entire life outside of work.
Duh. Of course he did, but still. It was one he never shared with you. Not like you earned the privilege to know, or to be included in anything he didn’t want to divulge, but with how private he was, it came as a surprise.
Invoking the thousands of dollars you spent on acting classes, you moved on, and kept your tone light, “The butterfly backpack suits you. Not sure about the color, though. Bright pink clashes with your navy blue outfit.”
Tough crowd.
His sulky demeanor permeated in his dull gaze trained on his stained sleeves. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Dumping her on you like that. Normally my uncle has the day off work and can take care of her, but he’s gotta go in because someone called out sick, so, yeah..”
If it were at all appropriate, you would reach across the countertop to soothe him from picking at his torn cuticles. But it wasn’t appropriate. So you didn’t.
You locked your hands behind your head and leaned back in your chair. “Funnily enough, I worked a brief stint as a clown for children’s birthday parties, so I’m actually quite comfortable entertaining them.”
“I’m shocked,” he said, void of shock. Finding the strength to lift his eyes from the animals she drew on your sketchpad to the encouraging curve of your lips, he tried to match your grin, but it fell flat. “At least you can go home on time today.”
You sucked in a breath for a quick retort, but Adrie interrupted you in her tiny voice, “Daddy! I can’t reach the sink!” And maybe that was for the best before you humiliated yourself more.
Because, the truth of the matter was, you always had the ability to go home on time. It was only because Eddie stayed behind that you made excuses to sit at your desk past your scheduled hours, prattling off some nonsense about memorizing the catalog.
“C’mon,” he said to his daughter, supporting her on his hip. “Let’s get going.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t exactly patient, either. The creeping exhaustion he kept under wraps was breaking through. Stress fractures in the mask he wore around others. The sanity he gripped for dear life for the sake of Adrie.
He caught the empathetic pinch between your brows, and used the last of his energy to turn so his daughter could see you. “Say ‘bye,’ and ‘thank you’ for playing, Adrie.”
She waved with the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever wagging their tail. “Bye! Thank you!”
“Bye, Adrie,” you laughed. “Bye, Eddie.”
Like usual, he didn’t respond. Today that was okay.
————
Eddie was on the verge. He was trembling, failing to loosen a bolt on the water heater to investigate why it broke–again–when his hair was yanked–again–and his knuckles scraped a bent piece of metal–again.
He was kneeling on his kitchen floor, craving nothing more than a shower to wash away the work week until his skin burned, but he was not afforded the simple luxury.
No relaxation. Not for him. No one to call on when Wayne was gone. This was his life to fix. On his own.
After repairing cars all day, he was exhausted. Touched out. But Adrie needed something from him, something he couldn’t understand with his tired mind. All he wanted was a break. All he needed was a break from her using his coveralls to scale his body. All he sought was the energy to deal with her pulling his hair.
But he was not spared the fortune.
“Adrie, please,” he resorted to begging. And when she didn’t stop, he withdrew his arms from the closet, and pried her hands off his hair, peeling her away and setting her on the floor.
She made to grab him again, but he used his waning strength to squeeze her arms to her sides, giving her his full attention she fought for.
“Can I get you a snack? Or put something on the TV? Do you want a nap?” He listed off anything, shaking and desperate.
“I wanna play with Daddy.”
Guilt amplified the shame.
He was a shit dad. He knew. He did his best and it was never good enough.
“I know you do,” the words fluctuated in the wake of water stinging his eyes. “I know you do, but Daddy needs to fix this. I can make you a snack and you can eat it in the living room. How ‘bout that?” Under normal circumstances, that wasn’t allowed. She had a penchant for dropping sticky food on the carpet–which was just another thing he’d have to get around to cleaning–but he was willing to bend the rules for the promise of a shower.
Adrienne thought about his offer for a long while, and settled on his deal.
And yet, it was hours.. hours until he was able to sit down.
The water heater required more service than he initially thought, and his daughter wasn’t entertained by herself for very long. She came to him in intervals of minutes, climbing up his back and hanging from his neck. He stopped caring. He didn’t have it within him. He made sure she was safe, and that was it.
He fed her a dreadful dinner, and she was so happy for her overcooked noodles in pasta sauce. He saved the leftovers. Put them in the nearly-empty fridge and took out two beers for himself, cracking the tops before sinking into the couch.
Adrienne stood between his legs while he wrapped her in her favorite blanket, and placed her in his lap. The top half of his coveralls were tied by the sleeves around his waist. No matter how dirty he was, this was how they ended the night. Him staring blankly at the TV, and her cheek on his chest, ear pressed to his white tank top, listening to his heartbeat. Curling her fists into her tattered quilt in response to him nuzzling the top of her head, and resting there in a content hum. Closing his eyes. Turning off his brain. Tipping back swigs of beer until he felt better, and giving her kisses until she giggled and squirmed.
The kisses were as much for her as they were for him, giving and receiving the only affection in his life. Apologizing for earlier when he couldn’t stand to be touched.
Her hug was small, yet powerful. Clumsy, but what he needed. Another person to gather in his arms and have their weight fall asleep on his chest.
He collected Adrie, and gave her a few more doting kisses while carrying her to bed.
“Stay, Daddy.”
Sometimes he did, just to have a real bed to sleep in, but with how long it took to fix the water heater, there was only enough hot water to bathe her. He’d have to wait until the morning.
“Not tonight, Daddy’s still dirty from work.”
It hurt to walk away. It hurt more to sleep on the lumpy couch. Hurt worse when Wayne came home to crash on the roll out bed, and the sun funneled through the windows, and the day started all over again.
Hurt the most when Eddie thought about the surprised look on your face when you learned he had a daughter.
Hurt the least when he imagined a world in which you wouldn’t care, and still flirted with him come Monday morning, because fuck, it was the only thing he looked forward to after Adrie’s meltdowns on the way to school.
9K notes · View notes
lemonlover1110 · 1 year
Text
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬
Story Masterlist
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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader
Genre: Angst, Smut
Story Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Hidden Child Trope, Childhood Friends to Lovers
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
From childhood friends to lovers to mere strangers. Your love story with Satoru Gojo was one from a fairy tail, until it wasn't. When you were twenty-one, Satoru left you without an explanation.
Five years later, you meet again but nothing is quite the same.
Too many things need to be explained, especially the fact that there's another Gojo that Satoru has yet to meet.
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[Chapter 1] Ikebana
[Chapter 2] Time
[Chapter 3] Reunion
[Chapter 4] Sayo's Insistence
[Chapter 5] Evening Off
[Chapter 6] Explanations
[Chapter 7] The Secretary
[Chapter 8] Unanswered Questions
[Chapter 9] Tantrum
[Chapter 10] Late Nights
[Chapter 11] Date
[Chapter 12] Appropriate Behavior
[Chapter 13] No Regrets
[Chapter 14] Long-Awaited
[Chapter 15] Ren The Cat
[Chapter 16] Justifications
[Chapter 17] Father And Son
[Chapter 18] Preparing for Vacation
[Chapter 19] Late Night Shenanigans
[Chapter 20] Beach Day
[Chapter 21] The Right Decision
[Chapter 22] Upset
[Chapter 23] Apologies
[Chapter 24] The Truth
[Chapter 25] Shared Birthday
5K notes · View notes
shallyouobeyme · 7 months
Text
From the Outside
Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)
Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)
Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?
! Minors Do Not Interact !
Requested by @sol565
TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.
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Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you. 
It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through. 
You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights. 
Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.
Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions. 
The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other. 
Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother. 
She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have. 
Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close. 
You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both. 
Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life. 
Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life. 
It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely. 
You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group. 
So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count. 
Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough. 
And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality. 
You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves. 
Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again. 
These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second. 
The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).
Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder. 
“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.
“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events. 
“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched. 
“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.
“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”
“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”
“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”
“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be. 
Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left. 
“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.
“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?
“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”
A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.
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xoxomoonlightxoxo · 6 months
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Peaches & Cream | Masterlist
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➪ Pairing: jungkook x female reader
➪ Synopsis: You're his Peaches and he is your Pretty boy. It's all very simple until the fear of commitment kicks in. How does one maintain a safe distance when it's Jungkook? The gestures might be sweet and naive but the heat between us is almost suffocating.
➪ Genre: college love, strangers to friends to lovers, undefined relationship, commitment issues, fear of abandonment, angst, slow burn, plot twist
➪ W/c: 31.5k
➪ Playlist (Spotify) *Note: There are 17 songs, one for each chapter
➪ Sequel: Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye
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Chapter 1: The Night Before I Met You - 1.9k
Chapter 2: Hey Flip Flops - 1.4k
Chapter 3: Nursing Buddies - 1.3k
Chapter 4: Let Me Make It Up To You - 1.2k
Chapter 5: Fever - 1.4k
Chapter 6: You Can Be My Baby For Tonight - 1.6k
Chapter 7: Clinging Onto Me - 1.6k
Chapter 8: Safe Escape - 1.6k
Chapter 9: Almost Had You - 1.6k
Chapter 10: Scavenger Hunt - 2.3k
Chapter 11: Tell Me To Stop - 2k
Chapter 12: Purple Marks - 1.7k
Chapter 13: Company - 1.5k
Chapter 14: Mental Picture - 1.8k
Chapter 15: You Don't Want Me? - 2.6k
Chapter 16: Peaches and Cream - 2.7k
Chapter 17: Ruin Our Friendship - 2.9k
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