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akunoniwa · 5 months

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Reconciliation

AN: i really like the priest trope y'all and dottore continues to plague my being.

Synopsis: In which you confess to your earnest, local priest about your most wretched sins...

Pairing: Priest!Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, he's a priest all of the sudden... for some reason..., dirty (blabbing) talk, mutual masturbation ig, you two just drive each other mad

WC: ~2.7k

Also, if anyone is interested, for the last couple years I have been curating a playlist of Evil, Macabre, Scheming classical that I usually write to. You can find it here! (Spotify :/)

Dottore himself may possess a universe-worth of deranged secrets, but his malevolence was the most obvious truth of all.

He’d be a resourceful and dutiful liar, a rehearsed cosmopolitan who knows what to say to get not just underneath your frail blouse, but your skin. He’d often get hyperboles thrown his way, how he must be able to read minds… Surely… That is impossible, right?

How Dottore managed to slip in through the ancient cracks of the Church of Favonius, one could not trace with their finger alone, as he found a special way to bypass the seminary. Growing morbidly bored in his lab as his segments took care of the more ‘menial’ things, he had a thought, twisted and contorted as usual: Where could he get a true, mouth-watering taste of humanity, bare and earnest before him? Naturally, a church is a place where sin may be denounced, but in a sense is romanticized and encouraged in its fashionable banishment. How he’d not considered this his first time around was… Perhaps a symptom of his inability to have all of himself in one place, both cognitively and literally speaking.

Dottore couldn’t merely walk into the cathedral in search of employment, however. The fame he’d acquired was not for his victories, but rather his shortcomings, though the public wouldn’t discern them beyond atrocities, successful or not. While the Fatui had strange footholds in every part of Teyvat, his presence would not be shrugged off, especially should Seamus get word of his meanderings.

His plan, then, was simple– dispose of a working, familiar priest, and he could replicate him as he’s done before in Inazuma, promptly and quietly taking his place. The edges of his ears tingle with anticipation as he imagines all of the degeneracy and blasphemy he’d bear witness to in confession, perhaps he could absorb some inspiration for other projects… Or so he initially thought before you started coming to him for ‘advice’, blotting his mind with a different genre of filth.

In the confessional, he’s able to indulge in hearing various grim sins and tales, his tarnished soul getting off on the compiled suffering in one way or another. His coos of nurturing advice would aptly dilute any evidence of that, though, as he had a reputation to maintain. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to hear your most vile fantasies should he somehow get removed.

You came in routinely, your voice shrouded in its faux shame, so close to his ear as it was only separated by a mere wooden screen. He could damn near feel your tongue as it pushed your impure thoughts to him on its crests and troughs. He was well aware of your intentions, convinced you’d not step foot on church grounds were it not to hand-feed him samples of your depravities. The image of you kneeling, in such a decadent position while you granted him whispers of obscenities, made it hard to restrain a grin of utter, vulgar satisfaction.

Knowing who was approaching next, he allowed himself to loosen his grip on his character only slightly, “My… I never would’ve expected your prompt return…”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” Your voice crept beautifully through the holes of the screen like a miasmic mist. He allowed his still-unfamiliar title slipping past your lips prick chills all over his body, the blatant implications of hierarchy stoning him.

This was all between you two anyhow, so he decided to play with you to his content, “I can only imagine.” His true voice, too, lingered like smoke through to your ears, dense yet airy, “Perhaps the Lord will find it within His grace to admonish you of your consistently licentious behavior… Tell me, dear, what ails you?”

“I just can't seem to stop thinking about you, Father…” You always had a hard time dropping the guise immediately, as if you haven’t shared these thoughts with him numerous times before.

You heard him shift, his robes moving slowly about his tensed, upright form, your voice drowning him when it was shaped in such a needy tone, “Ah… Quite the predicament, indeed. You know this is a safe place for you to air your sins out into the open, you must proclaim them clearly to Him.”

Your light giggle sent wakes of delirium through him, “I could never conceal my true self from you, Father… Although, I find myself wondering if you’re really an envoy of God or a spawn from Hell.”

“You wound me, darling, deeply so, though that will not divert my faith and divine purpose to ensure your merciful forgiveness.” He improvised artlessly, your implications alone rustling his guts, a friction he was growing addicted to. His entire being salivated at the thought of what mangled ideas you’d bring right to his feet. How you returned to him, beckoning for attention like a crow as you’d gift him with gleaming desire.

“A true messenger of God’s word would surely not get giddy at the thought of fucking one of their devotees… Wouldn’t you agree?” Your words were somewhat daring on your part, as you couldn’t entirely surmise just who was inches from you, but he has more than revealed his insatiable lechery.

You swore you could feel his breath through the screen as he pushed out an arrogant chuckle through his nose, as if there were no other place for you but the palm of his hand, “It’s that very thing, your passionate devotion, that compels Him. Though it seems you’re trying to parry attention away from your misdeeds…”

You noted, much to your pleasure, how he didn’t deny your accusation, “It’s just… Often when I go to pray before bed, I get distracted…”

“It’s entirely normal to get distracted,” He briefly paused, you could almost feel the breath that was perched in his throat in your own, “Perhaps you’re neglecting a piece of your conscience, an inherent part of yourself that you’ve yet to reconcile with.”

An inherent slut, that’s what he thought. How you come in here weekly only to tempt him, your mind is devoted to nothing nearly akin to a god. Truly exquisite.

You continued a bit more blatantly, toying with him, “That could be… It’s so hard to not lose my train of thought when I’m on my knees and can’t think of anything but your voice in place of His.”

His body was bleeding soot, he felt a build-up of carnal animosity trickle into his veins as you spoke, “Is that so… Was I not conveying His word as I usually do, darling?”

Your knees were quickly growing sore from kneeling, but the pain was blunted by the dull buzzing in your abdomen, “If His words are usually detailing what terrible things he’d like to do to me, but I can’t be so sure…”

His legs inadvertently parted, weakening upon your implications, a heat radiating between them that he wished was due to your body being between them. He was trying with every atom that built him to keep his hands in a neutral position on his thighs, but so desperately wanted to alleviate the growing strain in his slacks, “Terrible, indeed… I think you’re not truly allowing Him to touch you, darling, letting Him resonate deep inside you…” His veiled smirk ought to run laps around his entire face as he shuffled through his deck of delirious innuendos. He just enjoyed the theater of it all as his hands clawed at polyester.

While his acting was laughable from a more rational perspective, you were too intoxicated with want to mind and his prods were becoming too potent, “You may be right, Father,” You hoped to any higher power that calling him that was fucking with him. Not being able to see him was making you spiral, the need to merely touch him was stacking as you were beyond yourself before even making it to the church. Being that his voice was all you knew, you were sure that should he actually graze your skin, you’d be all the more susceptible to his antics.

As much as he likes to indulge in teasing you, he so badly wanted to drop the act that you’ve both rehearsed so many times before and insist that you meet him on this side of the screen. Your honeyed voice is always shredding him to dust, his mind disintegrating at the thought of how reprehensible it’d be to take you right here in the confines of the confessional box. Look him in the eyes from your precious, kneeled perspective and tell him how far from God you’ve fallen, how your repentance can only be properly demonstrated on his cock. Your delectable moans would drip right into his ear as he takes you, making your sex the only sacrament you’ll ever require.

“Father?” You called to him through his mental escapade delicately, his silence unsettling in several ways, though it seems you’d successfully wedged your way into his head.

“Yes, darling.” His ability to respire becomes all the more taxing, the facade threatening to shatter as he almost forgets his role for a moment.

“Could you… Do me a favor?” Curling, winding, your vague presence was constricting around him so deliciously.

“What is it…?” You already had him at the heel of each consonant. You debated in your fantasies what you’d lose yourself over more: Being told what to do, or telling him what to do… Did you have to choose?

You bared your fanged will, “I know you want to touch yourself desperately, if you’re not already…” You began, confident in your assumptions as you heard an eroded breath tumble from his lips, “Could you do that for me…?”

His brows collided in a furrow, dumbfounded with how forward you were finally being, “Of course, darling…” He easily committed, “Anything to bestow God’s love, even to the undeserving…”

He didn’t care to hold back his heady exhale upon finally kneading a palm into his already well-hardened cock, cuffing it now and then to outline the silhouette through his pants. You, too, let him in on your movements, ensuring he heard your sweet, lofty mewls as your fingers padded your clit ever so slowly.

“How do you feel, Father… Tell me…” You sang to him, oh how he wished he could see your flushed face, how you urged him to pleasure himself.

“I know it wouldn’t compare to your vile little mouth.” He groaned through another wavered exhale, “I would go as far as to guess you were wet before you got down on your knees, before you got to this Church, thinking about how badly you want to be fucked in such a sacred place…” Saying this knowing damn well how his body faltered at the sight of your name being rightfully branded on his list for another confession.

“Maybe that’s just how I show my devotion, Father…” You bit your lip as your clit gradually stiffened with need, cycling just the right spot, hardly able to resist rutting into your hand.

“Fuck, and you keep calling me that,” His grip tightened, though he’d not let himself free from his constraints yet.

“Is that not what you are? Or are you, God forbid, hiding something?” You pressed him in unison with your hand.

Him revealing his true identity would benefit no one, including you, but something about being able to fuck you as his true self set him ablaze. His expression tightened into one of brief apprehension, he could feel the knocking of his heart in his throat– There’s no feasible way you’d know who he is…

“Of course,” He assured himself more than anyone else, “But when you say it the way you do, in that sickening little whine of yours… It’s too good, darling, too much.” You reeled as you could hear the grin that tugged at his lips, though the struggle to maintain composure between you is what spoiled you.

“Are you moving… Fast or slow?” You forced him to elaborate, though your voice only continued to dwindle.

“Painfully slow…” His hips instinctually rose and fell in his vice grip, “I wish it were any part of you, darling… Your hand, your pretty mouth… Maybe you’d be sitting in my lap…” He mused wickedly.

You hummed in a whisper, “I wish I could touch you…” You decided to admit, “What would you want me to do to you, Father…?” You dug your interrogation into him as you wandered to your cunt, overflowing with slick need as two fingers dove inside in a curl. How you could have his cock pushing through you right in this moment but you both opted for this pitiful demonstration instead…

He adored how you were tearing yourself apart for him, desperation infecting your words, “Perhaps I’d want you to start with your hand in place of mine so you could realize how utterly insane you make me feel… How hard I am for you with just your voice alone, darling.” The rhythm of his breaths was becoming more hasty, the timbre of his voice growing more tangy as his lust snuck through the confines of his weakening dignity.

“Fuck, I really just wanna feel your hot lips wrapped around me, that filthy mouth of yours… Your flattened tongue running against the underside…”

You egged him on with a moan of approval, his mental painting distracting your movements from exceeding a slow massage inside you, “That sounds so good, I want to be the one making you feel good…”

On that note, he found himself needing to corrupt you. Requiring it. It was a perfect setting to do so, beheld in the eyes of sanctity at its most intense. It made him want to rip his own heart out, how this feeling ravaged his entire being. He wanted to be the only one who could make you feel like you served a purpose, symbiotic destruction as he’d fuck you until you could recall nothing else but the sensation of his cock filling you to the most dizzying brim. As much as he wanted you to worship him, he found the prospect of making you ascend with pleasure more gratifying.

“I bet you’d be the kind to get off on me fucking your mouth, neglecting your aching little cunt…” He loved denying himself the raw contact with his cock, but it was becoming quite the task to uphold as he moved to fumble with his belt buckle.

Your face managed to insulate itself with a blush that, should he have seen it, he would’ve taken you upon first notice, “I’d want you to grip my hair, forcing me to keep eye contact…”

“Good, darling, now you’re imagining… How I’d make you gag looking right into your eyes, as that’s only what you deserve for punishment’s sake.” He managed to free himself from his slacks, with no patience to adjust himself beyond his length protruding through the opening of his fly. Your shallow pants were so close to his ear, through the fine holes of the screen he hallucinated a face to imagine. He watched the apparition of you sway and twitch as you were barely able to remain upright while your fingers pumped inside you.

“Do you often touch yourself in prayer, darling?” He ventured.

“Only if it’s to you… Your voice truly haunts me, especially when you tell me all of this worthless shit, I just… Can’t help myself, Father.”

“I think of you all the time, how close we are right now, how I could fucking destroy you but we continue like this anyway.”

“Why don’t you come out of your little box and fuck me then?”

His damned laugh that drove you up the vaulted cathedral walls sounded once more, wondering how long he could be stowed away like this. It is Sunday after all, but perhaps this schedule 10 minutes before mass was intentional. Dottore was adeptly full of himself as he’d not mind if your screams were heard over the choir, in fact, that’d be ideal. While the confessional wasn’t in the main hall, it wasn’t secluded enough to dampen how his hips would assault the skin of your behind as he took you…

Your offer was too divine to refuse.

#...i could write a part two...#hoyoverse plz feed me more dottore content im withering lmao #perhaps if he kicked my ass i would stfu abt him...???#il dottore x fem!reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact x reader #il dottore #genshin smut #作文

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babymtal · 1 year

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gilded lily

genre: PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS <3 MAJOR ANGST, VERY GRAPHIC, 18+

warnings: death of two family members, rocky relationship with father, gn!reader is a psychic and experiences visions similar to wednesday, reader x xavier, xavier’s a little bit of an asshole as always, xavier is pining after wednesday when hey! reader’s right there buddy, jealousy, use of Y/N (ik im sorry it’s hard to write over 22k words and not need to use it), descriptive scenes of gore, self harm, talk of mental health, blood, death, suicide, VERY VERY HEAVY on the suicide, ya’ll.

once again this is very graphic and very angsty with a lot of mentions of suicide!

length: 11k roughly, so long i had to split it in 2 parts because tumblr hates me, this is part one, part two is: [here]

note: this is completely inspired by the film “Smile” I just watched it and my brain got to working. This is very long I got super carried away with it but I hope you all enjoy it.

PLEASE do not read if any of the warnings seem as though they may trigger you please and thank you i love you <3

I also ask that none of my work be reposted or stolen xoxo

Taking a step back from the canvas, you wiped the sticky oil paint from your fingers onto your messy, rough denim apron. Your eyes squinted, dragging along every detail you’ve spent the past few hours brushing into the canvas, before squeezing them shut. A deep inhale through your nose, followed by the hallowing exhale that leaves your lungs empty and desperate. You peeled your eyes back open, trying to look at your unfinished creation in a new perspective. After a few minutes huffing and glaring holes into the canvas, you turned away from the easel.

The painting was clearly far from finished, missing details you know you will most likely lay restless in your bed late tonight pondering the execution of instead of lulling into the sweet embrace of slumber. The hair of the subject you had painted hundreds of times before, not the exact shade of black you were shooting for, the lips a touch too pink to be accurate, bridge of the nose too wide, not that anyone else but you would notice such small details. You huffed once more as you ripped the apron’s tie from the back of your neck and grabbed your bag that was slouched lazily on the floor near the feet of the stool that was placed between two easels; one belonging to you, the other to the man you’ve grown close to during the days you've spent at Nevermore.

His hair was tied back into a bun, pieces slipping from the hairtie’s hold and falling to frame his face. He wore a long sleeve ruby colored shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The jeans that he wore to the shed were always adorned with splashes of color from him rubbing paint off on them, but this evening his presence was cut short. You almost didn't notice his phone ding from the small circular stool it rested on between both of your figures. He was quick to pick the phone up and reply to the text, his bottom lip pulled under his teeth as he bit back a small smile. He had rushed out with an excuse and side hug shortly after and you knew immediately the source of his abrupt departure; Wednesday Addams.

The beginning of your walk back to Nevermore was nothing out of the ordinary, only the sound of your heavy shoes against the uneven stone path and a few leaves crunching here and there. You were tired, mind slowly lurching with thoughts about the world around you. That was until the increasing gnawing feeling in your mind started ringing bells in your ears: you’re being watched. Suddenly, every step forward you took was becoming increasingly faster. The wind was starting to become cold, chilling your face and burning your throat raw. More leaves began to fall the faster you ran, the tree branches singing an ominous tune to you as the wind swept harder and colder against their bark.

You tried to keep your eyes forward, catching sight of the stone walls of Nevermore. Waves of nausea hit you as you pushed harder, forcing your legs into a sprint. You're being watched. Static was everywhere, all you could hear, see, taste, it invaded your senses until everything suddenly went silent and you hilted to a stop. The wind had abruptly ceased, your mind blanking as you stared down at the ground around you, leaves piling more than ever. It had only just begun to shift from the blazing heat of Jericho summers into the coolness of fall. But the trees had beautiful shades of green to them, full of life when you had entered these woods hours prior, you had remembered that much. Turning around, bewildered, you looked up at the tall, naked, dark trunks and weak branches, empty of all greenery.

Only then had you realized you made it to the entrance of Nevermore, ears now picking up on the loud chaos behind the doors that lead to the middle grounds of the campus. You reached for the gate door, hesitant from the fog clouding your mind. You shook it off, finally breaking through the entrance to find groups of students huddled, some entangled in teary hugs, others holding hands, frowns stretched on their faces. All eyes fell on you at the sound of your entrance. Your eyes scanned until they found the familiar ones of Enid, hers red, teary, and swimming with desperation. “Y/N, it’s your brother. It’s really, really, really bad this time-” she cried, using the sleeve of her striped blazer to wipe her nose before continuing, “He kept talking about how there’s some ghost, or whatever, threatening him! He’s gone crazy, Y/N, saying it wants to kill him and move onto a new victim or something. You have to talk to him! Please!” her frail hands gripped onto your sleeves and she shouted, pleading eyes boring into yours.

“Thank you, Enid. I’ll talk to him.” Your lips pressed into each other as the force of your emotions bubbling up caused your throat to squeeze, mocking the burn and ache of being choked. Your gaze lowered, even as you passed by Xavier, who reached a hand to rub your back only to fall short of contact with you as you walked past him with no acknowledgement. The entire campus seemed to come to a dead, eerie silence after Enid had spread the word to her peers that you would talk your brother out of whatever “freak meltdown” he is having. Your boots made deep, thundering thumps against the staircase as you ascended to his doorstep. Your faux confidence of the situation faltered, fist shaking undoubtedly when you raised your hand to knock on the door. You retreated, taking a step back and breathing so deep you could feel your lungs push against your ribs. A piercing, high pitched ringing sound in your ears, mentally blinding you. Your body tensed, head flying back, air being knocked from your lungs, head straining from the sudden forceful lack of oxygen.

“What the fuck are you?” he screamed, sobs racking through him uncontrollably at the horrific sight before him. You watched from the side in fear as the being took its large, frail fingers and dug them deep into its face. Wails of pure fright ring through the dimly lit room as the towering monster was carefully curling its fingers in the tissue and muscle, ripping its skin from its place to reveal a bloody, fleshy assortment of teeth and tissue.

Coming back to your senses, head falling back to place, you grounded yourself, looking around the entrance to your brother’s room. Dahlias in a woven basket at his doorstep, a gift from you. You smiled, remembering the glee on his face. “My favorite flowers!”, he’d say. Taking the second of peace to digest all that you saw moments ago you came to your senses, fear ghosting over you at the sight of your brother’s fate.

Nodding to yourself, you straighten your posture before confidently knocking on the wooden door in a pattern of three. You hear the door locks unlatch as you move to turn the doorknob. “Y/B/N?” you call, eyes scanning the room until they land on his hunched figure, head fallen, elbows perched on his knees as the palms of his hands dug into his eyes. “You can’t be here, Y/N” he said, voice void of all emotion. “I just need to be by myself for now until this… this thing finally gets the fuck away from me!” he exclaimed, body rising from the bed and arms flying out around him to project his statement. Tears continuously shed, trailing rivers down his face and dripping down onto his t-shirt. “I don’t know what it wants from me, Y/N, please! No one will believe me! I’m scared! What the fuck is it?” He screams, staggering slightly in your direction in desperation, his eyes searching for comfort and validation.

“I don’t understand, Y/B/N, what’s going on?” you questioned, taking a step towards your brother. Suddenly the air felt as if it had shifted, temperature lowering and the static-y feeling returned. The room spun around you for a moment, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek, the taste in your mouth bitter as your eyes fell to the broken vase shattered on the ground that once housed the flowers your father had sent him when he couldn’t, again, visit you both here at Nevermore. All the hair on your body stood at attention when you lifted your head to see your brother smiling back at you, demeanor completely flipped from his teary eyes and sorrowful frown just moments ago. His eyes held no emotion, blank, pupils dilated. His smile was so large and prominent it strained the muscles in his face so hard his cheeks wrinkled, some of the bunched skin around his cheekbones dimpling. His lips were cracking from the stretch of the dry skin over his teeth.

The sight froze you to the core, feet planted in their place, adrenaline thumping loud in your ears. Only then had you looked down at his hand by his side, a large piece of glass being wrapped around his large hand so tight it drew blood. His stare never faltered from yours as he rose the glass in his hand to his face, resting softly against the apple of his cheek. Your cries and pleads to stop were caught in your throat, fear paralyzing you physically and mentally as you watched him, your breathing halted and eyes unblinking.

Only when the glass had broken skin, crimson spreading across his fingers and cheek as he dug deeper and deeper, did you let out a gasp. You tried to move- do anything- to push his hand away but some mental block was keeping your feet planted right where they stood on the dark wooden floor. His cold eyes shot hot, blazing lazers into your face, desperate to make contact with yours that were locked on the glass shard he held. He paused briefly, taking a second to let out a relieving sigh you wouldn’t have heard if the silence in the room wasn’t so deafening. He suddenly pushed the glass deep into his face, breaking skin and drilling deeper before dragging the glass to rip through layers of skin downwards, pushing his closed fist harder and drawing more blood as he sliced down his cheek, jaw, and across his throat. His hollow smile stayed cemented across his bloodied and torn face as he toppled forward, knees hitting the ground before his face smacked right before your shoes.

The air was thick, so thick you couldn’t inhale, the burn in your head and lungs was crashing on you. All of your senses heightened, you could feel everything in the room. Your eyes were hypnotized into staring at his piercing eyes and wide, chilling smile. You could hear the sounds of people walking just outside the door, in halls of the dorm, a few feet from where you stood. The putrid must of all the blood clogged your mind, the crimson fluid pooling around your boots. A sudden ring of your ears tipped you over the edge, barreling you back into reality; your brother’s bloody, creepy, smiling dead face was staring back up at you from the ground it rested on.

A booming, near deafening wail sounded from the depths of your throat. The horrific sound caught the attention of others passing outside the door, Xavier and Ajax barreling through with a few other classmates to find the scene. The adrenaline had drained from you fully, the pulsing behind your eyes consuming you whole. Many emotions hit you at once; grief, despair, confusion, anger, horror, and agony all swarmed into one big stormy cloud that hung low above your head the past few days of experiencing your brother’s concerning behavior. But watching him gleefully slit his own throat in front of you had this large storm cloud suddenly pouring down cold, harsh, splitting rain and booming with loud thunder that shuddered across your nerves, lighting sorrowful fires in their wake. Tears flooded your eyes but you couldn’t scream anymore, wail floating away from your lips, trailing to a deafening quietness. The sight of his slashed throat and eerie smile was violating your brain every time you closed your eyes.

Xavier rushed to reach for you after he gained his own composure, pulling you away from the scene and out the doors, into the fresh air of the courtyard. The sudden change in environment left you dizzy, scrambling to the nearest trash can, nausea devouring you as you spilled your guts into the garbage. Xavier held your hair with one fist, his other hand pressed soothing circles into your back. Snot was dripping from your nose, tears pouring out onto your cheeks, over the bridge of your nose, and into the trash as the bile kept rushing from your mouth in waves. Once you had puked all the contents in your stomach and wiped your face, you straightened your back, exhaling shakily, clinging onto some kind of composure.

“Are you okay now? No more throwing up?” He leaned down to connect his line of sight to yours, irises scanning over your face, his eyebrows scrunched, wrinkles showing concern, confusion, and remorse. His nostrils flared as he let out heavy huffs.

You nodded weakly, staring back into his glossy, wide eyes. The tears adorning yours hadn’t stopped flowing since they began, wetting your face and the black shirt you wore.

“What the fuck happened to him?” He questioned, hands locked on your arms as if he was scared you’d start running like a frightened animal. You could see in his eyes that behind his composed and calm face he was terrified of what he just saw. A good friend of his lay on the creaky, wooden floor in an ocean of his own blood.

“I- I don’t know. I went to… to talk to him, like I told Enid, and then- then he started shouting for me to help him and that he was scared but he didn’t tell me what it was before he-” you trailed off, the words getting stuck in the back of your throat in bile laced, mucus-y clumps.

“Before he what?” Xavier pressed, thumbs digging slightly deeper into your elbows.

“Before he slit his throat in front of me.”

You swallowed the giant lump in your throat after frantically barking the response back at Xavier. His face completely fell at your reply, eyes darting to meet yours. “I’m sorry, he… he slit his own throat? In front of you?” Xavier’s voice was wavering, fighting to get through the statement. All you could do was nod in return. He ran a hand over his face harshly as he exhaled deeply, murmuring a quiet, exasperated “oh my god” before nodding to himself and returning his attention to you.

“Let’s get the blood off your shoes before Weems comes for you.” He deadpanned, grabbing your bicep in his grasp and dragging you behind him.

﹋﹋

“I’m really sorry for the incredible loss you have experienced today. Nobody should ever watch a loved one die before them, especially not in such a disturbing manner.” Weems cooed, voice laced with sympathy. She nodded at you, giving you a sympathetic, tight lipped smile.

Her face suddenly beamed, “-and your cooperation with the Sheriff today is greatly appreciated, Y/N-” She paused, taking a drag of the cigarette that was wedged between her two manicured fingers. Her eyes searched your emotionless, deadpanned ones before she continued, “That being said, if you need anything at all I ask you to confide in me.” “Thank you, Principal Weems, but nothing you can do can fix this right now.” you sneered, eyelids lowered to show how unimpressed you were with her woeful act.

Her eyebrows bounced upwards, face momentarily showing her shock of your dismissal. She smiled a bit harder, chuckling lightly as if what you had said was funny.

“Is there something you didn't mention to the Sheriff, Y/N?” She suddenly spoke, voice turning cold. Her face dropped to a straight, serious one, the dim light of the fireplace casting across her face. Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes squinting in her direction. You were taken aback, called out on your bluff. She smiled for a second before speaking. “Y/N, I know what happened to you today is not easy, but we need to know what happened. The Sheriff needs to know everything from the moment your brother began to lose his mind until the second he dropped dead at your feet. How did he go from being an ace student, full of ambition, to misbehaving, causing scenes, to killing himself in front of his own sibling?” You sat in the chair across her large desk speechless, unsure of what to say.

“Why did Y/B/N kill himself, Y/N?! Why would your own twin brother slit his throat in front of you?” Her frustration bled through more each word that left her mouth, her hand slamming down on the desk in front of her. Her nostrils flared before her eyes met yours.

Your deadpanned act faltered, huffing as you slouched deeper into the chair. “In short, Y/B/N and I had found our mother after she had committed suicide when we were young and that incident dominoed us to this. It was earth shattering for both of us. And when our father was arrested for murder it broke Y/B/N. He looked up to him, idolized the man. But- but no matter the situation Y/B/N had never talked about killing himself.” You began, taking a deep breath and grounding yourself before continuing, “Around a week ago we know he was the only witness in the incident of the man in Jericho killing himself in the street. Since then, he had started acting strange. More and more people were coming to me, telling me he was losing his mind. Constantly talking about some ghost, or something, following him everywhere. That no one but him could see it. He said it was threatening him and when I had gone to his room he was shouting the same thing to me. Then suddenly it felt like someone else was in the room, like, someone, or thing, other than Y/B/N.”

Your gaze drifted up to meet Weems’ as you paused your story. Searching for some sign she believed you, but you came up short. “His face was… terrifying. His eyes were so cold, dead almost. Like there was nothing there anymore. And he…” you cleared your throat, voice wavering into silence as his face flashed in your mind. Weems’ head tilted, her sign that she was listening. You breathed through your nose. “He was smiling.”

“Smiling?” she allured, eyes begging you to continue.

“It wasn’t just a normal smile. It was like it took up his whole face. It was horrifying. Like he was looking right through me with this giant, creepy smile painted across his face.” You voiced. She had sighed, placing her hands delicately on top of another in her lap.

“It sounds like your brother was really struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and experiencing delusions, Y/N. I'm sorry you had to be present during his final moments spent in delusion. I'm sure it's hard that the last memory of your brother was to see such a strong figure in your life in such a vulnerable position. I think it would be best if you took a week away from classes.” Weems spoke, voice soft and almost genuine. You shook your head, gaze falling to your lap in disbelief. From an outside view you could see why people took your brother’s pleas for help for delusional outbursts, but you knew him better than anyone else. Y/B/N was never suicidal, always the light and breath of fresh air of everyone’s day when he graced them with his presence. He was the direct opposite of you; doting, ambitious, headstrong. You wanted to believe he was delusional and move on from replaying the scene in your head over and over again but something is gnawing away at you, begging you to believe your brother’s claims instead. And you do.

﹋﹋

You spent the rest of your night tucked away in your bed, the foot of your mattress being occupied by nearly a dozen books you had stolen from the Nightshade library. You focused intently on scanning each page briefly looking for anything related to what this situation could mean. The calming scent of the old book pages eased your fired up nerves, your mind freeing itself from everything but the task at hand. After a couple hours and being half way through the stack of books you snuck into your dorm, a knock on your dorm room door snapped you out of your little trance. You grabbed a blanket from the couch perched against the wall near your bed and threw it over the books, covering the incriminating evidence enough to answer the door. You made your way to the entrance, unlatching the lock and pulling it open by the handle. Xavier stood there, dressed in a plain green long sleeve shirt and pair of gray sweats. “How shocking the most horrific, traumatic thing happened to me today and you still somehow show up at my door like always,” you mutter, face erased of all emotion as you peered up at him, “Not sure if you noticed, Xavier, but I’m the farthest thing from in the mood for your games.”

“Actually, I just wanted to come check on you before we have to return to our dorms for the night.” He sneered, eyebrows knitted together in a slight scowl. He pushed past you, letting himself in. You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind you as you followed him into your room. He stood at the foot of your head, leaning on the bedpost as he angled himself to look at you.

“Seriously, how are you doing? You can talk to me, you know.” His eyes reflected the dim, yellow light of the lamp perched in the corner of your room. Your cheeks were on fire under his gaze as you move to settle back to your previous position at the head of the bed. You definitely couldn't tell Xavier about all that was swarming your mind, fear of his dismissal and rejection cementing your words where they bury themselves in your mind. As you seated your body relaxed, muscles slightly untightening, and posture loosening. So badly did you want to mourn your brother, do the entire crying for a month, go through the 5 stages of grief, get his name tattooed or a necklace with his name on it or whatever people do, and figure out what the fuck you’re going to do now- but it felt as though your body was carrying you through these motions of needing to find information. Something in you knew that there was something evil twisted somewhere deep beneath this all. Eyes scanning the soft blanket draped across your bedding, hoping to find the words you needed in the woven linen below.

“Xavier- I’m fine. Really. I haven’t exactly... digested everything yet. I’m kind of in autopilot mode right now if that makes sense.” you opened up to him, not exactly giving him the rundown. He nodded, muttering a sympathetic “I’m sorry” before moving to sit in front of you on the bed. As his butt met the hard covers of the books under the blanket he instantly sat back up, confusion written on his face. He lifted the cloth that was thrown over your bed, ripping it off the surface to reveal the old, musty books. He sighed, confused, eyes bouncing between the books and you perched innocently against the pillow, legs folded beneath you.

“And what is all this?” He gestured his hand out to the books, looking to you for an explanation. You gnawed on your lip, debating whether you should tell him the truth or not. You’ve sorted the pros and cons of letting Xavier in on the scary details of your life as of recent but you knew he would never believe you. Why was it that everyone else around you was set dead on the fact your brother had just inevitably lost his fucking shit? What was it that made you completely contest them, fully investing yourself into the depths of your brother’s crazed pleas for help that fell on nothing but deaf ears, besides your own. Whatever it was, Xavier didn’t belong in this plan, that was obvious. “I was just… curious is all.” you nearly whispered, voice quiet in the tension filled space. Xavier’s frustration ached through him, bleeding into the air around you. You shrunk under his gaze, feeling his eyes judge every inch of your face, eyes wide in shock as if to give you a look that said, “You’re joking, right?”

“Curious about what exactly?”

“You heard everyone… Y/B/N had talked about something haunting and threatening him! I just wanted to look and see if maybe this had happened to someone else is all. It’s really not a big deal, Xavier.” Your voice raised in defense, desperately hoping Xavier would understand and validate your reasonings.

“He was crazy, Y/N! I know it’s a really hard pill to swallow and you haven’t gotten there yet but he lost his mind. You’re not the only one here hurting or who had to endure his psycho behavior the past few days. There is nothing going around haunting people. If there was, don't you think we would have heard about it? Please, just stop. Take time to actually digest what happened and don’t go driving your own self crazy trying to find an answer to something that doesn’t fucking have one!” He yelled back, frustratingly waving his hands around, exaggerating his feelings.

“Crazy?” you spat, “Y/B/N was not crazy. And how can you even say this when he literally died hours ago? Are we all supposed to just move on because oh he was just a psycho who just lost it?” You tried not to tear up, truly you did. But the bubbling water in the heated metal pot on your metaphorical stove continue to swirl, bubbles of hearing your peers so casually dismiss his death boiled up, rising until it inevitably boiled over the sides.

“You know I didn’t mean it li-” He began to rebut but you cut him off, “Get out, Xavier. Please.” you pleaded, pointing past him and at the door. He looked at you in complete disbelief before his face hardened, shoulders shrugging.

“Y’know what? Fine.” He sneered. He shook his head at you, eyes never leaving yours as his bottom lip caught between his teeth, before storming out the door, slamming it shut behind him. You cleared your throat when silence filled the room after his departure. Gathering yourself, you reached for the next book perched on your bed in the “haven’t checked” pile, opening the cover and flipping through the pages.

“Just because they don’t believe you doesn’t mean I won’t,” you whispered to the large room before you, hoping your brother was somewhere, creeping along the walls, listening to you.

﹋﹋

Your body ached as you woke the next day, the sun beaming through the long, dark curtains that adorned the big, circular window above your bed. You turned to check your phone, screen lighting up a mocking 12:33 PM. Your eyes closed shut in annoyance, groaning as you dropped the device down on the mattress below, arms and legs stretching out, a few joints cracking in the process. You sat up in your bed, throwing your legs over the side forcefully. Slowly coming out from beneath the veil of your sleepy fog, you could now feel the deep, twisting knots in your shoulders, the weight of the trauma now proving heavy on your mind.

After scanning through all the stolen Nightshade books last night but one, you came up short handed. Most of the pages were adorned with information and drawings of witchery, large monsters, and deadly diseases none of which mention the symptoms you were looking for. You piled all the dead-end books into two piles on your duvet, leaving the lone, untouched book to the side. Getting ready for the day, you pulled on your uniform before gathering the stacks of books in your arms, making your way to the Nightshade Library.

Stares and murmurs were thrown your way as you walked through the courtyard. You tried to keep your head low and sight to the ground in front of you but you instinctively looked up, searching around you eagerly when the sound of your brother's voice called your name from afar. You halted at once, now twisting around in circles to fully scan the small crowds of students around you, all of which were already staring back at you, their faces ranging from one of sympathy to another showing confusion. Some people were turning to look around thinking something had happened, others watching you desperately and half-hazardly scan the faces around you, anxiety radiating off you.

The slight sound of your name yet again being called by your brother has you whipping your head in the direction it came. His figure met your gaze, sitting perched next to Ajax’s and across from Xavier’s, the wind in your lungs became chilly as you watched every peer in your vicinity suddenly fall to silence, conversations dissipating, before turning to you slowly, facing you with large, straining grins and wide, glossy eyes. Their faces were so morphed they were nearly impossible to differentiate from another. Your brother’s the only familiar one in the ocean of tight lipped grins.

“Holy fucking shit,-” you rushed, air around you feeling incredibly thin as it rushed past you in small gusts. “-fuck, fuck, fuck, no, please. No.” You begged, eyes finally focusing, taking in his sliced, cheery face, wounds flowing like rivers of crimson onto his uniform below. When you felt a shoulder hit yours, the abrupt contact snapped you from your hallucinations. Your books stayed snug between your forearms and chest, unmoving from the disruption. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, your eyes both dropping a singular, puffy tear as you caught your footing. Just as soon as you came forth from the trance, you were now stomping one foot in front of the other, determinately treading through the courtyard, no regard for whoever had even bumped into you.

Quickly, you snuck into the darker halls of the campus, looking around you as you made your way to the entrance of the library, doing your best to snap twice with your arms preoccupied once the coast was clear. Your speedy return of the books and escape went smooth, now hastily making your way back to your dorm where you plan to stay the rest of your week, hopefully unbothered this time.

As you passed through the courtyard you see Xavier sitting at the same bench with Ajax and now Wednesday Addams, his attention on her and her deadpan face that stared back at him with no emotion. You quickly diverted your attention to the ground ahead of you, walking a bit faster to avoid any confrontation. You dryly laughed at the thought, as if he could even bring himself to stop staring at her and see you rush by him in a frenzied manner. You continued marching to your dorm, heart thumping painfully with jealousy to the beat of your footsteps. The way he looked at her made you want to throw up. His eyes so entranced while looking at her, the pretty near-death looking girl with braided pigtails. “Whatever,” you thought, rushing to twist the knob once you reached the door.

With an end to the successful, yet concerning, Nightshade Library trip you shut the door to your dorm, leaning your back against it and slouching once you had realized you were finally alone, shut away from the world. Pulling the heavy blazer off your shoulders and undoing your belt, you sighed contently at the feeling of your body becoming unrestrained by the thick material of your attire.

“Stupid fucking uniforms,” you cursed as the clothing hit the floor. You stayed in your tank top and lazily changed into a pair of shorts. Your butt hit the mattress clumsily, eyes fixating on the wall in front of you. Despite the rest you had just awoken from not long ago you could feel exhaustion seeping out of your every pore. Everything just ached. Before you could think too far into your emotions, a chill ran over your spine. You let a shaky breath out, feeling the air around you shift, something sinister now lingering around. Your gaze had yet to leave the wall, suddenly feeling a pair of eyes lazering into the side of your head. Your body froze in fear at the feeling. You’re being watched.

Willing yourself to move, you turned your head to look to the corners of your dorm room. First one empty, second empty, third empty, you held your breath impossibly harder, hearing the blood rush to your head in loud, pulsing waves. Your head turned impossibly slow and you caught a glimpse of feet in the darkest corner of your room. Your exhale caught in your throat at once, goosebumps rising across your arms and legs. Your eyes trained onto the familiar boots of your late brother’s. “No, no, no, no-” Your eyes slowly looked up, grazing from his boots, up his blood covered jean adorned legs, and the white wife-beater that was completely painted red, save a few areas. Your heart began to race, fear and adrenaline flowing through you. Finally looking at his face you flinch- despite seeing the face so many times. The chilling, teeth-y smile that strained his face, the soulless eyes. Only this time your stomach twisted unnervingly, mind entranced by his eyes.

“Y/B/N?” you called, not expecting a response. Everything around you began to blur, faint faces appearing in the smudges of color that once was your room. You whimpered, fear consuming you as you began to lose sight of reality around you.

“I’m sorry,” you heard faintly whispered into your ear, as if the person was right next to you. You gasped, head twisting to find the owner of the voice, to no avail. You shuffled back on your bed until your back hit the headboard. The faces quickly multiplied around you, the colors sharpening and refining back into your walls, desk, couch, and floor. Your eyes widened, a scream of horror erupting from you as you looked around your room, psychotic smiles and ghostly, empty eyes staring through you everywhere you looked- even under you in the bedding below. Your brother stood in his same place at the corner of your room, smiling at you unmoving. Tears crept up into your eyes, the faces around you feeling as though they were vibrating your body, shuffling forward as though they are closing in on you.

“Why are you doing this?!” you screamed, eyes unable to pick one face to stick to, a whine of despair leaving your lips, gaze fearfully roaming the different pairs of eyes etched into the walls and flooring. Your knees were pulled to your chest, feeling small and vulnerable in the sight of so many eyes. The silence following your outburst overwhelmed you more, the fear of not knowing what is going on enough to drive you mad.

“What the fuck are you?!” you hollered louder, voice straining with fear and anxiety. “Stop staring at me!” you pleaded, covering your face with your trembling hands, the stare and smile following you in your mind when you closed your eyes.

“No!” you shrieked in horror, “Please!” your voice getting caught in hiccups and sobs as you bawled into your palms, the eyes becoming increasingly wider, smiles growing in size, overwhelming you until everything stung. When suddenly, it stopped. All that was left was a buzzing in your mind and dead silence before Enid and Ajax were suddenly kneeled in front of you, fear in their eyes and concern plastered on their features.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what happened? Why are you bleeding?!” Enid shouted, panicking at the sight of the deep scratches on your neck, face, and chest. They both pulled you into a standing position, each hauling an arm over their shoulders as they dragged you to the infirmary.

﹋﹋

After a night in the white, bland room with no visitors or texts even the morning following, and Enid avoiding you like the Black Plague as you walked across the courtyard and out the large doors leading outside the campus, you can officially say you definitely feel like are losing your mind. The gaze of your peers once welcoming and warm, eyes shining with greetings to you, were now frightened, hesitant to disturb you in your clearly disheveled state. You had time in the stiff nurse’s bed to rethink the things you saw in your dorm room, your eyes never leaving the view of mountains in the distance as you recalled the incident. Those faces were haunting, smiles so large, big empty eyes piercing through you as if they wanted to devour you. You realized these faces have to be what your brother was talking about when he had talked about the ghosts, or whatever, that were haunting him. So whatever this thing is has been passed on from your brother to you. Great. Realizing how incredibly unrealistic that all sounded left you with a lump in your throat, brows twitching.

Only then, when you glanced down at your hands in your lap for the first time, did your eyes widen, this time not with horror or tears. This look was one that announced the bewilderment that exploded in you. Your hands sat laced together in your lap politely, unscathed, not a drop of blood or ripped skin in sight. The skin was smooth and clean. These scratches weren’t caused by you, no way. A couple hours of check ups and talking to the nurse about self harm later, you were dismissed. You tightened your coat Ajax had gone back to your dorm to get when they brought you in around your body as you walked through the chilly forest to the art shed you and Xavier have inhabited.

Though only a couple days had passed, the weather had changed drastically, abruptly chilling over and darkening, the clouds turning from a pure white to a dark, stormy gray, and the greenery around quickly shriveling to small branches and a satisfying crunch of the dead leaves beneath you as you continued along the path in thought.

You weren’t expecting to see him when you opened the shed door, actually, you knew he should’ve been in one of his classes right now. His focus quickly diverted from his painting to the shed door opening. When his eyes locked onto yours, his glare softened. “Y/N,-” he paused, looking at you, taking in your dark circles and the small bandaged cuts that accompanied your face, “I wanted to apologize for what happened a couple nights ago. I just got frustrated because I’m scared for you.”

“Scared for me?”

“I’m scared you’re going to end up like your brother and mother, Y/N. Really, really scared. Enid told me what happened last night. Why did you hurt yourself like that? She- She said you were screaming and crying.” His wide eyes searched your face for a reaction, but you stayed stone-faced, speechless.

“I’m not crazy, Xavier.” you pressed.

“I didn’t say that.”

You scoffed, not believing his dismissal. You wanted to confide in him and seek his help, but his eyes felt as if they were seeing through you, judging you, putting you down. “I don’t know what happened, okay? I just got really emotional and kind of blacked out and when I came back to it Enid was taking me to the infirmary. But not once did I harm myself! Look at my hands! Nothing is wrong with them! I swear I didn’t do this to myself but I don’t know what did. Listen, I- I just really miss Y/B/N. I’m trying really hard to stick this through, Xavier, but in the past eighteen years of life I spent with him we had never been apart for longer than a full 24 hours,” you sighed, hadn’t giving yourself a chance to go through these thoughts with yourself prior to this vulnerable confession, “so please excuse me if I’m not handling the fact I’ll never see my brother, hear his voice, or hug him ever again very fucking well.” You spewed, emotions bubbling over and forming into sharp dagger that pierced right through Xavier. You pinched the bridge of your nose, the heavy weight on your back feeling as if it had gained a couple more pounds.

“Hey-” he called, moving closer and grabbing your wrists, bringing them up to his chest. His head tilted down to meet your gaze, “We’ll figure this out, okay? Day by day.” He smiled warmly at you but seeing his grin just made your stomach drop painfully in a fit of terror and disgust. You plastered a fake smile on your face, masking your horror. “Of course. Thank you,” you replied in faux sincerity, breaking away from his grasp to set your coat up on the jacket rack.

He smiled to himself, feeling relieved that you opened up to him, or so he thought. He resumed his place at his easel, paintbrush in hand, focusing on the canvas in front of him. Securing the tie of your painting apron around your neck and picking up your favorite paint brush, you finally peered up at the artwork you were eager to resume. You stepped back, startled, a yelp releasing from your mouth at the sight of the now altered portrait. “What?” Xavier quickly rushed to your side, looking at the painting you were working on. “Wow,” he gasped, “This one’s really going to be beautiful. I think it’ll be my favorite. You’ve never painted her smiling before. She looks a little creepy right now though, but once you paint some life into her this’ll be a masterpiece for sure.” He noted, brushing your odd reaction to your own painting off, and going back to his own creation once more.

You watched, mouth still slightly agape, as he settled back to his painting before turning your attention back to yours. The grim portrait of your late mother that you had replicated many times was not how you had left it.

You stepped toward the artwork once more, analyzing it. Most details were the exact way you left them; straight black hair framing her supposed to be woeful, beautiful face and body dressed with a dark red, velvet dress that framed her shoulders and collar bones. Even the background was the way you had created, dark curtains flowing behind her elegantly, but her facial expression was now eerily replaced with one of the faces that had been haunting you as of lately. Her dark eyes peered back at you, an unsettling grin grazing her features. Your mother’s face looked cold and scary, almost demonic. Her painted gaze drew you in, hypnotizing you until all the air was knocked from you, body tensing, head flying back. The paintbrush was dropped to the floor with a clack.

Y/B/N had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, sobs wracking his skinny, frail body as he pleaded for mother to wake up. You gazed up at your brother bawling, eyes trailing to her still figure laying on the bed. Her eyes wide, dead, staring back at yours with a smile on her face. Suddenly, she rose with a loud gasp, your twin brother now nowhere to be seen. “Y/N…” she sang, looking at you. “What the hell is going on?” you interrogated, urgently needing an answer to all this. She tsk’d at you, shaking her head at your impatience. “There’s only one person who you can go to for that,” “Who?” you pressed. “Your father,” She turned to look at the other side of the room. Following her gaze, now appeared a younger version of your father, eyes wide and teary as he stared at your mother in fear and despair. His sobs and cries for your mother echoed through the room, “No! Why?!”

Air filled your lungs at once as you came back to reality. Xavier had his arms around you, holding you up, looking intently at your face for signs of injury. You peered back up at him before realizing the position, quickly scrambling out of his grasp. He cleared his throat, scratching his neck.

“A vision? What was this one?” He innocently asked.

“The ghost has something to do with my father.” you replied. He pursed his lips, nodding. His eyes squinted as his gaze faltered from you to his coat, having an internal battle with himself. Why should he stay here and have to listen to the same things your brother was spewing days before his death? He couldn’t bear to watch you, the person he’s been longing for for years, who was the strongest person he knew, now falling down the same path their late relatives walked not too long ago. Fetching his coat and phone from around the shed, he shuffled around some more, throwing his coat on and zipping it up, before calling out a quick, “Be safe walking back,” as he left, shed door slamming against the wood frame. You looked around the shed, confused as to what just happened.

﹋﹋

“You said if I need anything at all to come to you, and now that I am you’re denying me?” you questioned, scoffing at the situation. “You're asking me to arrange for you see your father, who I remind you, you haven’t seen in nearly half a decade and is being held at the county prison for murder!” She exclaimed, arms raising in disbelief.

“My brother just fucking killed himself and all I want is to talk to the last bit of goddamn family I have left!” You shouted back, anger coursing through your nerves. You were tired, scared, and felt completely isolated. Dejected, you lowered your voice to pointedly ask, “Is that really so bad, Principal Weems?”

She squinted her eyes at you, releasing a defeated sigh, and picking up the small office phone in front of her on the large desk, pressing a few keys with her manicured nails before raising the phone up to her ear. Her unimpressed gaze stayed glued to yours in what felt like a stare off, your eyes boring into one another’s. After a few rings, her demeanor completely switches, a smile spreading over her milky face and voice smoothly raising an octave, contorting into a more calm, almost soothing replacement.

“Hi, yes this is Principal Weems at Nevermore. Could you be a doll and transfer me to the warden?” She politely requested, humming cheerfully into the phone at the response on the other line. “Thank you!” she quipped. A fake smile and a nod of your head was sent her way as she rolled her eyes at you, clicking her tongue.

﹋﹋

Your nerves were at an all time high, hands shaking, and knees slightly wobbly as you walked down the long corridor to the big metal door you were directed to by a guard. You took a second to close your eyes and gather everything you had planned to discuss in your mind before you signaled for the guard to open the door for you.

He followed in behind you, taking his place right next to the now shut door you had just walked through. You sat down at the large, metal desk that stretched wall to wall with glass dividers separating you from the other side. As you peered up, you caught your father’s eyes and the wind got stuck in your throat. Just looking at him at first glance, you could see he was a grieving, miserable man. Deep sunken, tired eyes, hollowed cheeks, wrinkling skin. “Haven’t seen your face in a while.” He spoke calmly, “I thought it was your brother visiting me, not you”, leaning his elbows against the surface in front of him. “What happened, Y/N? What are you here for?” his face nearly drooping, fatigue lacing through his features and voice. You never visited your father during his time he was serving here. You couldn’t bear to confront that part of your life, deciding to neglect it completely and move on. Seeing your father’s despair in person is exactly what you had been spending years avoiding.

“What happened after you watched mom kill herself?” You questioned, lips pressing together from nerves. Your eyes made direct contact with his, unwavering. Looking at him made your stomach feel as if it was eating itself, the twisting nearly unbearable. He sighed deeply before cautiously saying, “Do you really want to know?” You nodded at him hesitantly, determined to get at least some kind of answer to this giant question mark plaguing your life.

“Okay, well, when your mother killed herself, she was completely out of it. We began to argue every time we were around each other. She had claimed she saw faces that were threatening her. I didn’t believe her at first, you know, that’s crazy people talk.” He stopped to lean back in his chair, eyes glued to nothing in particular, mind lost in thought, trying to recall everything. “A week before her suicide she had watched a pregnant woman walk into oncoming traffic. Killed herself and her baby right in front of your mother. It completely wrecked her.” He eyed your face for a second, watching you tilt your head slightly to encourage him to continue his story. “That night she was having another episode. She was screaming, begging me to help her. I didn’t know what to do.” His voice trembled slightly, recalling the memories. “I’ll never forget the horrified screams she let out and the look of fear on her face and god, when she shot herself in front of me that night… her smile.” He hesitated, looking around the table as he tried to gather his thoughts into words, “It was terrifying, Y/N. I still see it everytime I close my eyes. And… and then I began to experience the exact same visions your mother had. The faces followed me everywhere, I was having hallucinations of your mother everywhere I went.” When his eyes finally met yours and you saw the pure fear and grief in his eyes that mirrored yours, you nearly broke down.

Tearfully, you admitted, “Y/B/N… He killed himself 3 days ago. I had gone to check on him because he had been acting so strange the past week. He was describing the same things you said mom described, the- the faces, the haunting, and-” you breathed deep through your nose, gaining your composure as you watched your father’s face crumble into one of pure grief at the news of your brother’s passing. “When I went to check on him he was- he was there… and then it was like suddenly it wasn’t him anymore. And- and when he killed himself he uh-” You stopped to catch your breath. Your father was sobbing, chin in his hands, eyes still trained on yours to let you know he was still listening to what you were saying. He sobbed harder, harshly coughing in between sobs.

“He slit his throat in front of me while smiling.” You stated after a moment of silence, tears flowing and composure crumbling, walls falling brick by brick. Your father caught his breath enough to finish your story for you, “And now it’s passed onto you.” He watches you nod meekly, hands coming up to roughly wipe the tears from your face. He shut his eyes, exhaling deeply. “What did we do to deserve this?” He pondered to no one in particular, head rested back to look up at the ceiling. “Y/N, there’s two ways this will go; you either wait for this… this disease to kill you and pass onto someone else or you kill someone.” his voice lowered into a quiet whisper you could barely hear, depending mostly on reading his lips through the glass between you. You choked on your spit, sputtering at his claim.

“I have to-?” “Yes. And it has to be meaningful. It has to be in front of someone as well. That’s how it passes. Someone has to witness it. Its source of power is trauma.” His voice remained low and firm during his lecture. “You choose to die or rot away in prison for the rest of your life, and I’ll be honest with you, Y/N,”

“Every day I wish I had let it take me.”

﹋﹋

The visit with your father had left you distraught, broken pieces of your heart just cracking into tinier, weaker pieces. Guilt swam through your bloodstream, sadness creeping in your chest that you had waited so long to see your father again. Knowing that would be the last time you saw him, you wept as you said goodbye to him, both of your hands pressed to the glass. You continued to cry as you exited the prison, mind beginning to dissect the information he had given you. Years ago, your father had worked for Nevermore, holding painting classes for students at the time. He told you about the blue book found in Nightshade’s library that he found information from where he had learned his escape from death. As he described the book, you knew exactly where to find it; your dorm room.

Your feet hurt from the fast, powerful walk you took across Jericho to get back to campus. Your mind was racing with your lack of time and options as you beelined straight for your dorm; either let this consume you until you kill yourself in front of someone and pass this thing onto whoever the hell they are or find a way to kill someone else. You finally arrived at your door, relief washing over you. Twisting the knob, you entered your dorm, pushing the door closed by leaning your back against it. You opened your eyes to reveal Xavier, Enid, and Ajax sitting on the small couch and bean bag chair in your dorm. All of their eyes shifted to you at your arrival.

“Y/N hey… come sit,” Enid says, patting the empty spot on your couch next to her, hinting for you to take a seat.

“What is this?” You questioned, unamused. Ajax and Enid shared a look between themselves at your question. Xavier cleared his throat, body leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he looked up at you through his hair. “An uh… intervention? I guess?” Xavier said, looking to Ajax for support. Ajax caught on, pushing his shoulders back to confidently add, “Yeah, we’re just really worried about you, Y/N.” Enid smiled at his confession before turning to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. “We want you to talk to us. You feel so far the past couple days.” Her voice muffled by your shoulder. “Are you serious? An intervention? And at 10 at night? Guys, I’m not crazy!” you jumped from your place on the couch, voice raising. “Shhh, please. No one is calling you crazy. Just sit. We care about you.” Xavier tried to reason with you, eyes pleading for you to just comply.

The air around you budged suddenly, air thinning and burning your throat with every panicked gasp you make. “No,” you plead, “Please no, fuck, not now!” you screamed. Your mind was racing, the familiar goosebumps rising across your skin. All you could think of was Xavier, Enid, and Ajax. They needed to leave. Your breath became harder and harder to catch, sight becoming drastically tunneled from lack of oxygen. What if this was it? You peered down at your shaking hands, desperately trying to calm your staggering breath. When your attention focused back onto the trio sitting in your dorm, they were already staring back at you, wide smiles and big eyes. A scream ripped through your throat at the sight, stumbling a bit back.

Xavier was the one to speak, voice monotone and deep, “Your time is almost up,” he stated, that dreadful smile never leaving his face. All three figures stood at once, surrounding you as they continued to stare, moving in closer and closer. Scared, you back up until your back hits the wall, sliding down until your knees are to your chest as it heaved, hyperventilating as you stared back at their soulless eyes, unable to look away. Ajax moved his hands to his face, fingers gently placed under the lash line of his eyes. “No!” you screamed, “Ajax please!” He laughed dryly behind his teeth, gaze not once faltering from yours. The sound of him ripping his skin from his face so close in proximity to you chilled you to the core, paralyzing you. You screamed in terror, watching his face hang like curtains from his chin where the mutilated skin stay attached. Underneath the veil of skin was a mushed assortment of teeth, tissue, flesh, and blood. With his lower eyelids ripped from his skull, his eyes bulged as they peered down at you, unblinking. You sobbed, shrieking for help. Blood from Ajax’s deformed and mutated face was dripping onto your skin and shirt as he stood towering over you, his smile nearly doubled the size, yellow, decaying teeth hypnotizing you, making it impossible to look away or blink.

A sudden gasp has you clutching your chest, lungs burning and eyes flooded with unshed tears. Blinking, they tumbled down your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Xavier’s shouts startled you out of your trance, “Hey! It’s okay! Oh my god!” His hands rested firmly on either side of your face as you swallowed deeply, eyes flickering from Xavier’s in front of you to Ajax’s who stood a few feet away, cradling a crying and startled Enid in his arms. Ajax’s face was contorted into one of concern, fear, and as you peered a little harder you could see the suppressed disgust he felt as he looked at you.

“Hey, man, I’m gonna get Enid out of here. You okay?” Ajax called out to Xavier. Xavier turned his head to Ajax, jerking his head to the door to silently signal it was okay for him to leave. He led Enid out of the dorm, closing the door softly on the way out. Xavier returned his attention back to your trembling form when he heard the lock click shut. He sighed, shaking his head, “What am I gonna do with you?” he rhetorically pondered. You stayed silent, body still shuddering with fear as you watched Xavier’s eyes look at yours, searching for what you’ve been hiding.

“Do you have any idea what just happened in the past- I don’t know- like two minutes?” He asked, head tilting to the side to gauge your response. You weakly shook your head no, gaze falling from Xavier’s, jumping from corner to corner to ensure no one else was with you in the room. At this moment, you could no longer find the energy to care about what you had done during your episode, just that Xavier finally hears you. The pressure of all of this was weighing down on you, driving you insane. If it was the last thing you did, you were going to warn Xavier of all this. Truthfully, the fear of him being the one you pass this curse onto was growing like a wildfire in your chest, squeezing and burning your heart at the mere thought that he would be the next doomed suicide victim. “I’m ready to be honest with you about everything Xavier- but you have to listen to me.” You commanded, voice sharp. “I swear to you, Xavier, I’m not crazy. Please believe me,” Reaching out, your hands rested on his shoulders. He nodded softly, whispering a soft, “Go ahead.”

So you told him everything. Starting from the beginning with your mother and father, how your father escaped the curse by killing someone and he was now serving a life sentence, about your brother’s descent into madness after watching a man in Jericho kill himself, about everything your brother had said during his last days before he killed himself, the information you’ve gathered about this curse, the visions you had at your brother’s dorm and the shed, the talk you had with your father at the prison, the hallucinations, how Ajax ripped his face off in front of you, the smiles, everything.

Silence was not a strong enough word to describe the eerie, deafening stillness in the room between you and Xavier after you had concluded telling him all you could. By now the sun was just now peaking out from the mountains and trees, slowly shifting the dark starry night into hues of dark purples and pinks. Xavier used the moment of peace to gather everything you told him in his mind, a headache bubbling behind his eyes. After long, tense moments of silence, he finally moved to speak, “I believe you, Y/N.” he started, “really, I do.” His hands held yours in his as he looked into your eyes. You let the breath you didn’t realize you were holding escape your lips at his reassurance. You rose from your spot abruptly, “oh, yeah!” you exclaimed. You quickly sauntered to your bed to grab the nearly forgotten book. The cover was exactly as your father described. You brought it back to the couch Xavier was now perched on, sitting close beside him as you began to flip through the pages of the book.

“And this,” you motioned to the large book in your lap, “-according to my father, contains some information about this curse. He said he didn’t have enough time to research further before he was forced to kill that man.” You trailed off, eyes catching Xavier’s. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing your head to his chest before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know now isn’t the best time,” he paused, “but, god, I really hope we figure this the fuck out.” His warmth lulled you to relaxation, eyes closing and breathing in through your nose, Xavier’s cologne filling your senses.

“Me too.” you replied, but you’re unsure if he heard you.

#it is currently 5:30 AM I just finished writing the ending to this #Will be edited tomorrow perhaps #This part is very time skippy but I swear the second part is like two povs at same time and everything idk just expect more bc i was #tip tapping on this keyboard for HOURS. i think i started writing the ending at 10 and finished around 5 so #yeah #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagines #wednesday #wednesday show #xavier thorpe #angst #wednesday angst #fandom x reader #dahlia.wrks

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