Eldritch (Yandere!gods x GN!reader)

Chpt. 2 - You

A/n: extreme gore, derealisation, depersonalisation, the weird stuff you can expect from me and so, so much more

It's not Mason, you tell yourself. Though it looks like him, it sounds like him, and it even fucking walks like him, it is simply not Mason anymore. It's something wearing your friend's skin. It's something with a smile too wild, with eyes too bright.

It's something that's walking straight towards you, and you need to fucking move.

"(Y/n)? It is you, isn't it? (Y/n), are you... awake?" he asks, his voice a haunting echo in the night.

Your eyes dart to his hands, exhaling harshly at the mark you see on the inside of his palm. Three curling lines from a dot in the centre. Instantly, your skull throbs with a pain so intense you buckle at the waist. Mason sighs, moving closer quietly. Crumbling, crawling, you push yourself away from the incoming threat. Your eyes try to squeeze shut, save you from the blinding pain, but you don't take your eyes off it. You can't. You physically can't.

"I guess not. Why haven't you given in yet? He makes everything better. He makes us happy. You deserve that, (Y/n). More than anyone I know," the mad ramble of his words echoes around you.

He creeps closer, and you notice that he's limping. He must've tried to fight back... you suppress a sob, doing your best to quiet your thoughts. You needed your walls up, sturdy. They feel anything but, as you watch his eyes reflect the yellow glow of the lamplight.

That's what it is. You won't think of any alternative.

"He says he wants you, you know? Knows that you're special, in some way. He wants to know if you know what makes you special."

And your world shatters right then and there. There's no more hiding, no more peace, no more safety. It's all gone with just a few words.

Horrified, you stumble backwards on shaky legs. Sweat drips down your face, stinging your eyes, as you battle the pressure beating down on your body. Your legs buckle, and your hand shoots out to dig into the brick wall beside you. The world swims, Mason's face blurring. You feel nauseous, confused. Like you just need to sit down and rest, and it will all be better.

It won't be. It won't be.

Mason's gone. Another one's gone. And 'it' knows about you. 'It' wants you. It's curling in your mind, pushing for space, shoving at memories that steal it. You can feel yourself withering away, you can feel it digging in deeper, trying to find the core of who you are, trying to carve it out.

Your hand curls around a loose brick, slow and shaking. Mason doesn't react. You don't know if he can see. You barely can, and you're not infected yet.

Are you? Wouldn't it be alright if you were?

You scream, cutting off the pestilent thought, and throw the brick at Mason. By some miracle, it checks him in the jaw. He staggers back, an arc of blood lit by the streetlights all you see before you push to your feet and run. You don't know if he's down, and even as your neck itches to twist and look back, you squeeze them shut.

Don't open them. Don't look. Don't think. Don't do anything but run. Don't focus on anything but your clenched fists as they pump back and forth. Don't feel anything but the puddles splashing against your ratty shoes and drenched socks. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.

Just please, don't think about it.

You run blindly through the dark streets, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Inevitably, you trip. Your foot catches on a loose cobble, and you tumble face-first into the stone. Crying out, you push up from the ground, watching blood swirl in the puddle you'd landed in. The blood drips from your face, tainting the rippling visage of your face.