Fabricated Reality AU part 4 (Yanderes x reader)
This is a series where I put all my era 3 OCs in Situations™, so all 5 of them would kind of battle over you
Part 1, part 2, part 3,
(2545 words)
TW: violence, you be put in hell situations man, claustrophobia, buried alive description
“Twirl for me, lovely.” He giggled when you did, letting the fabric flutter around. You didn’t know that a simple scarf turns into a whole wardrobe with some simple folding and twisting. You definitely felt cute, with the soft makeup he expertly applied onto your lips, cheeks, and eyes. It felt relaxing, like a spa day. He had you resting your head on his lap as he sat on the fluffy carpet, with brushes and palettes scattered around the two of you.
“You are so, so cute.” You can see his fingers twitch as he brings them close to his face, as if itching to touch you. But he refrained from doing so. To which you were appreciative of.
Leveret opened his mouth to say something, but something behind you caught his eye, causing that smile to turn into a shocked frown. Before you could even turn around to see what had upset him so much, he gripped onto your arm tightly and yanked you behind him, as he protectively shielded you from whatever threat just literally manifested out of thin air.
You heard a deafening slam of a door, more like it swung open so hard that the handle made a hole in the drywall. Poking your head from Leveret’s frame, your blood ran cold upon seeing the last person you wanted to lay your eyes on.
“(name)!” Cyprus barked; you could see that he’s positively furious. Not entirely at you for escaping, but the fact that another man is touching you- as evidenced by the fact that he’s scowling at Leveret.
“I’m giving you three seconds to get the fuck away from my woman.” You winced at that guttural growl directed towards the man who did your makeup and was nothing but kind to you. “I’m not playing, I’ll bash your fucking head in.”
“Cyprus, being aggressive isn’t going to solve anything.” Leveret tried to diffuse the situation, calmly yet assertively. He still refused to expose you to the potential danger in the room. “Let’s talk. Like adults.”
“One.” You felt chills down your spine as you watched Cyprus rolling his shoulders and wrists, as if warming up for a fight.
Leveret said nothing, his eyes occasionally darted around to check for any exits, but they’re mostly trained on the threat in front of him and you.
“Two.” Cyprus continued with the countdown, cracking his knuckles while rolling his neck. You cowered behind Leveret, fingers tightly gripping onto his sweater, which made your abhorrent admirer’s blood boil.
“There are better ways to approach this, Cyprus.” A last attempt to get through to him peacefully fell on deaf ears. It appears Leveret already knew what was coming, as he shifted his stance to a slightly more defensive one.
“Three!” The hook Cyprus threw was so fast, so powerful, that it appeared as an incomprehensible blur. But Leveret was faster, as he managed to dodge it in time fluidly. Instinctively, you scurried to the furthest corner of the room and sought refuge under a desk.
This position gave you a good vantage point, though, as you could see both men fighting in full, clear view.
It's not exactly a fair battle, though. Leveret is constantly on the defence and Cyprus on the offence. Leveret encapsulated grace and elegance, while Cyprus- pure vicious ferality and combat skill. The way the two of them moved was mesmerising, hypnotising, and almost soothing to watch, if not for the fact that someone was getting badly injured today. It was as if you were watching a well-choreographed action sequence fitting for a movie.
Leveret periodically glanced in your direction, checking up on you while distracting Cyprus. It doesn’t really seem like he’s too focused on not getting his skull caved in by the professional boxer; you note that he’s constantly scanning the area, as if expecting something to appear or happen.
His hazel eyes suddenly lit up when he spotted it: a door. This time, it appeared to be a slightly weathered wooden door with a tarnished brass lever handle. It came into existence quite close to where you’re hiding.
Cyprus whipped his head towards the door too, noticing its sudden appearance. Leveret immediately scythed his foot low across the floor, taking Cyprus’s balance with it and sending him crashing down. He had to act fast while his opponent was temporarily incapacitated, and so, Leveret did.
He advanced towards you, grabbed your arm, and swung the door open simultaneously. A reassuring smile adorned his face when your worried eyes met his.
“See you soon, my darling. I love you.” Leveret briefly kissed you on the forehead before shoving you through the portal. Before he slammed the door shut, you caught a glimpse of Cyprus getting up on his feet, mid-lunge towards Leveret.
And now, you find yourself back in darkness again. Except, this time, you’re in a way tighter space. Much stiffer, coarser, and claustrophobia-inducing. You felt your panic when you realised whatever is surrounding you is naturally closing in, pressing against your face and restricting your breathing. Your hands claw their way through the mysterious medium, which begins to feel more and more like damp potting soil scraping against your skin.
Every muscle in your body is activated to dig through it, your fingers, your feet, your knees… you were running out of air. Like a mole, you tunneled upward until you felt the dirt around you became looser and easier to push away. Even then, you kept going, and eventually light reached your eyes. Your fist broke through the surface, letting rays of light shine into the hole, you then squeezed yourself through the tight opening, popping out of your burrows- flinging soil everywhere. The surprised yelp when you emerged didn’t go unnoticed though.
Brushing the dirt off your eyes and hair, you came face-to-face with a man with the kindest, bluest, downturned eyes in the world. Clad in gardening gear that does poorly to hide his interesting fashion choice of wearing a cravat while tending to his plants, he covered his mouth in shock. There were specks of brown and black in his long, tight curls of grey. You felt a little guilty for accidentally spraying soil all over him, but you desperately needed to breathe- absolutely no time to waste.
“(name)!” He lets out a shaky exclamation, dropping his shovel onto the ground with a clatter.
This must be Blanche. Through his voice and face alone, you can tell that he is warm and intensely nurturing. But you don’t trust him yet, so you try to retreat into the dirt and hope that there’s a door down there somewhere leading to an empty bathroom you can use. As soon as you tried to dig back down, though, you found yourself standing at the bottom of the terracotta pot.
And so, you allowed yourself to be helped. Blanche pulled you out of the anomalous receptacle and quickly dusted you off the best he could.
“My dove, wh- how…” He stammered incessantly, unable to truly formulate any meaningful question to ask you. In the end, he decided to seal his lips shut and focus on cleaning you up the best he could.
You and he were silent as he took his time processing what had happened. Neither of you had to vocalise anything, though. Your stomach did the work by gurgling loudly.
Pity and heartache were written all over his face. He picked a few tangerines from a nearby tree. You noted how short this plant is and how much fruit it bore. Blanche then rinsed his hands and the citrus with running water from a garden hose.
“You haven't had anything to eat for the whole day, have you?” He peeled the tangerines and fed you their juicy, orange flesh. Too hungry to think of anything else, you ate straight from his hands.
It was the sweetest, most succulent tangerine you ever had the honour of tasting.
“My poor starlight…” His heart wrenched painfully in empathy as he watched you devour the measly meal.
And it would be like this for a while: Blanche hand feeding you his fresh produce, including a couple of tomatoes, various berries and more tangerines, you gladly throwing them into the hatch while still covered in dirt.
You slowed your scarfing, to which Blanche correctly deduced that you're getting full. He decided it would be an appropriate time to start getting answers. But it seems like he already noticed something strange about you.
“Do you remember what brought you here?” He asked, with an air of caution around his words.
You shook your head.
“Do you… remember me?” He asked with great hesitance, already knowing the answer based on your body language and circumstance he's finding himself in, but not wanting to confirm it.
You, of course, shook your head again. This time, you didn't brace yourself for some shitstorm, though. Blanche seems reasonable enough. And he seems like a sweet, harmless, frail old man. It would be a lie that you didn't feel an ounce of guilt upon seeing his crestfallen expression and the welling of tears in his eyes.
Blanche took a moment to compose himself before taking a deep breath and… reintroducing himself.
“My name is Blanche.” He swallowed stiffly before continuing. “I was your best friend… well, I'd like to think I still am.”
Best friend? That's definitely interesting.
Blanche blinked his tears away and smiled sadly.
“Mr Mansion tends to facilitate interactions between guests living in him.” He explained.
“Doors appear and reappear seemingly at random. Sometimes trapping us into a room, sometimes freeing us from it, sometimes forcing us to talk to each other. But I know it isn't just done so all willy-nilly.” Blanche sighed, his eyes seeking yours.
“I just… I didn't think Mr Mansion could be this cruel…” He muttered under his breath, frowning.
You said nothing and just stared at him. After a straight minute of silence, Blanche laughed out of bitterness.
“He has done something with your ability to talk, too. Oh, I'm so sorry you have to go through this, my dove. Mr Mansion shouldn't have brought you into this…” He wiped more soil away from your eyes using his thumb.
Mr Mansion? So this is all controlled by a single entity? It seems like Blanche knew a lot more about… everything. You wish you could discuss it with him, but curse your damn malfunctioning vocal cords.
Frustrated, you started vocalising. Predictably, in uncivilised shouts and yells.
Yet, Blanche isn't fazed at all. He smiles, and it's full of pity and sadness. It's as if he's fully expecting this.
“I know you have a trillion questions about whatever nonsense is going on, dearie. I do too.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I believe… we will receive the answers we rightfully deserve in due time. Please don’t fill that sweet head of yours with worry, we will be quite alright.”
You actually felt… assured. It’s probably because you also felt heard and understood. Plus, Blanche is the only one who isn’t weird so far. Not pushy, not delusional, doesn’t demand your love back, and doesn’t assume that you’ll see him as a haven. Obviously, he is hurt by your supposed loss of memory, but he handles his emotions well.
A door faded into existence. A dark, mahogany door with pristine handles and locks. It stole your attention, and Blanche’s the same.
“Ah…” He mumbled. “I guess Mr Mansion think it’s time for you to meet Mr Yves.”
You snapped your head to him. How does he know that? Maybe it’s also a lucky guess, but how did he come to that conclusion?
Sensing your confusion, Blanche explained himself,
“That is a replica of the door to Mr Yves’s office. I’m sure it will lead to him, or at least, to the place he appears the most.”
You hesitated, you don’t know this “Mr Yves” guy. The only interaction you had with him was so brief, you don’t know what to make of it. Hell, odds are, he could be worse than Cyprus!
You looked back at Blanche and shook your head. You don’t want to leave him, the only sane member so far!
You gripped onto his sleeves, pointing at him and then to yourself, then to the door. Trying to get your request for him to come with you. Blanche simply knelt to meet your eyes.
“Mr Mansion doesn’t want me to come with you, my flower.” He explained compassionately. “The door is… five sizes too small for me. It’s perfect for you, but I’ll need to be whittled down to a peg to fit!”
You looked back at the door. He’s right, it’s way too small for him, but you should be able to go through it with no issue. It’s nauseating how insanely confusing the spatiality of this reality is.
But regardless, you’re still worried about what lies behind that door. So you refused to part from Blanche and shook your head.
“Oh, my poor sweetheart…” He cooed, smoothing your dirt-laden hair. “I know you’re scared, but there is no reason to be.”
He massaged soothing circles on your arm with his thumbs. “Mr Yves is a clever man. He was the first one to figure out Mr Mansion’s most basic motivations and made accurate predictions no one could ever have thought of. He is a bright scientist through and through- you will find his office filled with books, eagerly offering their knowledge to anyone interested in expanding their reservoir. There will be comfy chairs to sink into, much better than the pebbles under your feet.”
Still not fully convinced, you shook your head. You’re scared.
“I promise, pinkie promise that Mr Yves will be kind. He had never once been horribly mean to any of us. He is the most capable of us all, and in many ways, he is the leader and lighthouse in this dark, terrifying world of uncertainty.” He brought his little finger up for you to hook your finger around it. To seal the deal.
“I have the utmost confidence that he will explain everything better. He would know what to do; he always does. He will help you, my darling dear. And I know that, because I know you are someone special to him too.”
You gulped, well. He did drive a few convincing points into your brain. You took a deep breath and exhaled, completing his pinkie promise. But before you made a move, you pointed at the tangerines. You don’t know if you’ll have the chance to eat when you walk through that door.
Immediately understanding what you want, Blanche encouraged you to go ahead, “Take as much as you need, my garden is fertile and fruits and vegetables are plentiful!”
You did a small bow of the head to thank him as you went ahead to collect the fruits. Blanche also helped you harvest other crops for you to snack on.
But really, you’re actually just stalling for time. You don’t know what to expect from Yves. You would definitely feel much more comfortable if Blanche were there with you.
Regardless, you told yourself that once you collected enough to eat, you would walk through that door.
