I'LL ADAPT (Creepypasta x F!Reader)

22 ▌PROCESS▐

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Your tired eyes open and glare at the door. Sitting up and fixing yourself up a bit while watching the door being harshly thrown opened. Tim closed the door behind him. You continue to glare as you make sure your clothes are decent and covering.

"You'll be meeting with me after breakfast for training. I expect you to be there at no later than nine." As he turns to leave you hardly have the energy to snap at him for his rude attitude. You still do though.

"Yeah, Okay Mom.'' You start to slink yourself out of bed. Barely passing the desk a hand slams onto the edge. You turn your head to see Tim has now completely blocked you in, shooting your own heart rate up first thing in the morning.

"You will never have that attitude with me again." The white mask leans in, you see along the bottom near his chin is stained red. Even worse his eyes are furious and you can see them clear as day as the mesh doesn't block them well up close. "Do you understand?"

Proxies in this house are to be respected. You deserve the same respect. Even with a racing heart and trapped between the man and the desk you lean back to at least put some distance between you two.

"I w—"

SMACK.

Your left cheek stings as you touch the new slap mark. His right hand returns to the desk ensnaring you between him. You feel the tears prick the corner of your eyes, but instead you decide it's just too early for this treatment.

"Yes."

He releases you from the confines and makes his way back over to your door, you really wish that it had a lock.

"You will be there no later than nine. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." With that he leaves, leaving you to wonder about your situation. It's becoming more obvious how little power you actually have. Manipulation and assertiveness are hard when they'll just hit you. The Proxies are going to be more difficult when they are working against you at every turn. You'll need to tread more carefully and find ways around them. It looks like Eyeless Jack will be your only way to get dirt into their lives.

The pain of the smack is already gone by the time you changed and fixed your hair the best you could. It took a couple of painful minutes but fingers work as good hairbrushes. You're just going to wear more gym appropriate clothing, even if it exposes more of your skin, like the gym shorts that are gripping onto your thighs. You still find a jacket to keep on your upper half covered until you truly hit the gym.

Grabbing both the lime scarf and white coat you head out to return these items. It's not like you know what time it is, but it's sunny outside so that's all the info you need.

You found Bloody Painter's room easily as it's across from yours. Room One-hundred Four. Giving a couple soft knocks you just hope to not disturb him if he's asleep. He eats one meal a day, so breakfast skipping for more sleep is plausible. The shuffling behind the door and the twist of the door knob tell you otherwise. Emerging is a disheveled man. His hair is tangled and scruffy from his mask being put on as he is still adjusting it. There is a red smile that is replacing the blankness you had seen before. Blood.

His gray t-shirt is covered in it and parts of it stick to his skin making a strange shape.

"Yes?"

You hold out the white coat. He wipes his bloody hand that is also covered in different bright yellows, greens and blues onto his gray sweatpants before taking the coat.