RED - YANDERE ! DSMP + CHILD ! READER

- father dearest and his son -

trigger warnings :: cursing, injuries, general malice

( papa phil )

" a floating mirror. "

" your friends smile warmly behind you. "

-——————————-

They sat down in a chair across from the blonde, letting him scold them lightly for being in the snow. He rummaged through his inventory, the floating transparent screen in front of his right hand snuffing out and being replaced with a potion.

"Take this, you look tired."

"Sorry, I don't like taking things from people I've just met."

"Fair enough. What's your name?"

"y/n."

He laughed a bit, adjusting his posture and clearing his throat. The wings on his back fluttered a bit, shiny feathers reflecting off of the lantern lights. Y/n found it a bit mesmerizing. They liked birds.

"Anywho, how'd you get in the snow? I can tell you're not from a winter-set biome."

"just.. started walking in whatever direction, went through a few portals then got here. sorry if I burst in on you, and whatnot."

They glanced out the window, the sight confusing them.

A single crow sat perched outside the glass pane, staring right at them. Phil didn't seem to notice, instead of fixing one of his earrings.

"Oh don't you worry about it, everyone needs company from time to time!"

They smiled a bit, taking notice of his emerald and gold earring. He had... A lot of piercings. Y/n liked them, and could even see a gold stud on his tongue when he spoke.

"I know someone with that same earring. that's strange."

"You've met Techno? He lives just in the other cabin!"

His face lit up, wings puffing a bit and spreading to the size of the couch. Which wasn't even half his wingspan.

"well, sorta- how about Wilbur?"

They swallowed their pride, willingly mentioning the man. It left a bad taste in their mouth, but Phil raised his brows. The blonde leaned back in his seat, taking off his hat.

"He's my son."

Y/n visibly paused, squinting at the man. This man was seriously Wilbur's dad? This man that scolded them for staying in the snow, that let them into his home on a whim, is WILBUR'S FATHER??

They crossed their legs tightly, Y/n's tail beating on the chair and their side impatiently. They were.. not prepared for this at all. He didn't seem to mind their discomfort with their response.

"oh- well, um, I and him don't have a very good relationship, yknow?"

They said in a sort of "wink-wink-nudge-nudge-your son killed me twice" way, which the man apparently did not catch onto. He simply nodded, one of his legs bouncing excitedly.

"Well, I hope Wil wasn't too much of a bother, always was quite needy- Well, I'll be getting you a guest room situated. Make yourself at home."

He smiled, getting up and rushing off. Y/n slumped in the chair, head in their hands. No. No no no, they were not about to live with Wilbur's dad.

But goddamn, it was hard to refuse. He didn't seem the same as him. Or act the same. So.. Maybe...

He was okay?

They got up quietly, fixing their sweater and rummaging through their inventory. They peeked into a room that was, thankfully, a bathroom, and changed into the skirt they woke up in upon their first death.

It was quite comfortable, actually. It was soft on the inside, and smooth on the outside. The sound of the man's wooden shoes clomping down the stairs caught their attention, stepping out of the washroom.

He wore a smile on his face as usual, but a folded-up cloth was in his arms.

"Knew I had this somewhere! Since you're in the Arctic Empire, I might as well give you the clothes to look like it! Mostly because of the cold.."

He spoke sheepishly, handing them the neatly folded clothes. They nodded, taking them and shuffling back into the bathroom. They got changed, the clothes being extremely warm, exactly like he said. The actual shirt and pants fit surprisingly well, being a nice pale blue, while the cape over it was a deep blue, lined with white fur and gold trimming.

And to tie it off, two hardcore heart buttons linked the clasping chains together. It was honestly gorgeous to look at. Phil clapped when they walked out of the bathroom, surprised it fit them so well. Their tail poked out of the top of their pants, just having to make do with what they had.

"Fits like a glove! Come, I'll make you something to eat."

They both walked to his kitchen, Y/n sitting down while he began to get ingredients out for soup. He kept looking at the single crow in the window, shooing it while mumbling words Y/n couldn't understand.

"Single crows are always a bad omen, but there are so many crows here that maybe they're just messing with me."

He chuckled, continuing to make the food for him and the child. Y/n, on the other hand, could not stop thinking of the crows. They just kept looking at them, and the crows stared back with this blank look that scared them a bit.

It's funny how the littlest things could scare them, but genuinely threatening things made them feel solemn. Angry. Irked. Displeased. Resentful.

No other word could describe their hatred for people sometimes.
Like Wilbur, their hatred for him was burning constantly.

Phil tapped the table, putting a bowl in front of them.

"Mushroom stew, tastes a lot better when it's fresh."

He pat their shoulder, quickly striding out of the room to presumably get some things. The soup actually did taste pretty good, though it was a heat shock after all of the cold they had been in.

Philza, on the other hand, was not getting things. He was writing a letter, a letter to a very distressed brunet and to a pig, both in a ravine awaiting the letters' arrival.

He stared out of the window, glaring at the lined up crows.

Philza kept reciting that old bedside rhyme as he wrote, keeping himself busy.

" One crow for malice,
Two for mirth,
Three for a funeral,
Four for birth
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a story that should never be told,
Eight for heaven,
Nine for a hell,
Ten for the devil where ever he may dwell. "

He counted 10 crows.

- 1068 words -