🎂𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲🎸 || Y! Sbi × Reader

Chapter two

CW: drugging, kidnapping, minor violence, dehumanization

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Cold metal slides against your neck, making goosebumps rise up the nape of it. With another click, a small bundle of hair fall down to the floor.

"So...I'm ready with the hair...just a few more small details now..." the raspy voice speaks, before the sick starts coughing again.

Your fast heartbeat was louder than your shouting and begging, which was muffled by the duct tape over your mouth.

You have been stuck sitting in one place for hours. Cable ties graze into the skin of your wrists and ankles. Some cheap plastic held you tied to a chair and made an escape for you impossible.

The thought of it was just as absurd and terrifying as the fact that you got drugged and were now being held captive, just because some spoiled kid wanted to have you as a living doll.

"Oh come [Name], cheer up a bit! I'm doing such a good job at getting you all nice and ready for Tommy's celebration, and you only wish to ruin a child's party? That's sad."

Wilbur has been fussing over you for an awful long time, ever since the drugs he put in your tea wore off, and you woke up in this exact chair.

You now wore some nice casual clothes, fit for a family gathering. Not one inch of the knitted sweater was scratchy, and not a single crinkle could be found on the trousers.
Wilbur styled your hair perfectly and all the signs of your unhealthy lifestyle have been covered up to make you seem flawless. You felt like a mannequin. Nailed down to perfection and posed for everyone to see as you sit there unmovingly.

"Anyway, no matter you opinion, you look fantastic, dear [Name]. I really think you'll fit in nicely here." He finishes off, by sticking a shiny bow right above your heart, one you might see on a wrapped up gift.

'You mean your sick family of psychopaths? Tch. Sure, sure.', you snark, in your mind.

The thought of actually being here, in the moment and possibly staying here, made your stomach twist. Your own reflection in the mirror feels so alien to you somehow. You don't know if it is the side effect of the drugs, but the colours of the world around you blurred into one from time to time, leaving you to wonder and hope that all of this is just a hallucination or a dream.

"Wilbur! Hurry up already! " A loud, gruff voice suddenly calls out from behind the door, making the man flinch and cut your neck with the sharp scissors.
As he proceeds to answer the voice, that follows by an impatient banging against the door, you feel blood flow down your skin, the long cut burning and making you wince out in pain.

Before you know it, the other Craft twin, Technoblade comes into the room, like a predator attracted by your fresh blood, and pulls the chair you sat on behind him.

You scream at the two, fruitlessly pleading to be let go, as the two roughly take you down the now dark corridors of the house. However, your pleads are only answered with annoyed shushes and an amused chuckle.

The screeching of the chair being dragged across the floor, stops when they stop in the dining room, where they push you behind a long table.

It is dark, like before and only the candles of the beautiful birthday cake in front of you, gives you the ability to see.

But even the burning little flames are not enough to light up the grand, cold room.

"Sit still and be pretty, [Name]." A whisper tickled your ear. "We would never allow ourselves to give our dear little brother a bad gift."

Your throat trembles with the sobs that are close to breaking out, and a cold hand strokes along it with a firm touch, as if to soothe the trembling and calm you.
But all it is, is a chokehold to be. A silent threat, not to anger them further.

Once you waste enough energy to hold back your raw and ugly fear, the touch disappears and the room goes silent.

Why was is it silent? It couldn't be...-
Why did the universe allow you to be forced to play dead, when your soul was screaming its lungs out, ripping at your unmoving body, to get out of it?

The sweat from your forehead dripped all the way down to your lips, slowly solving up the glue of the duct tape. A corner of it comes off, and a silent whimper comes out, echoing in the room. A useless cry for help.

Then, small steps come up somewhere from behind. Through the tiny tears in your eyes, you see a small figure come up by your side.

"[Name]!", the childish voice, feels like a light in the dark, similar to the candles on the cake, which were dedicated to him.

"t-tommy..." You choke out without noticing, once his small hand reaches out and rips the tape off your face.

"You really stayed!" His face is full of joy and childlike wonder, innocent as ever, "I knew you would change your mind and want to stay with us!"
But something wasn't adding up. Did he really not know-?

"Of course, Tommy. [Name] was only joking around, when they said they would leave us. Right, mate?"

Philza Craft. His calm voice echoed through the room like death's call. The blood in your veins froze up at the hidden aura of danger, which you could feel, no matter his mood. It stretched out behind his false friendly facade, like a pair of black wings. Feathers thin and flexible, but able to cut through your skin. They would, if you dared to give the wrong answer.

"Y-yes tommy...", your breath shudders, as you stare solely at the blonde child, afraid to face the monsters lurking in the dark. "I stay-yed jus' for you..." The first sob comes out from your trembling lips.

But luckily for you, the same helping hands from before, come up from behind to fix it. The sharp fingernails dig themselves into your mouth and pull up the corners of it, drawing a smile onto your face.

Isn't it great, to have someone to fix your flaws and fulfill you to perfection?

"Happy birthday, my boy. I hope your gift will make you happy for long years to come." The black wings cover and shield you off from the world. It is a deathly veil, which will suffocate you slowly under its pressure.

"Why don't you wish for [Name] to stay with us forever, as you blow out the candles, Toms?"
Another shot of sedatives is injected into your veins, as a needle quietly gets stuck into your skin.

The hands hold your mouth shut. Dolls don't speak, remember?

"And wish for him to be more obedient, while you are at it, Theseus. What use does a toy have, if it doesn't function properly?"

The sweet, beautiful cake gets brought closer, and little Tommy's grin reaches from one ear to the other. This had to be the world's best birthday ever!

Here he is, the birthday boy,

With his two older brothers,

With his loving father,

And you, his new favourite possession, forever destined to be his, but never their own.

Tommy blows out the candles, and the world around you turns into darkness once again.