DBZ X-Readers

Whis x Reader x Beerus Pt. 1 'Offering'

  Author's Note: I had intended to make this a Yandere type of pairing, but it didn't work out that way in my head. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, and look forward to more parts! 

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You'd been working at the Temple of Destruction for the better part of your life doing mostly menial, cleaning-type tasks, and were of age only a year when the priest gave you yet another such assignment.

He'd always looked out for you, ever since that incident in your youth when your power had been completely overwhelming. When you'd brought your entire house down, practically on your family's heads. They had asked the priest what to do, and he had suggested you begin to live in the temple, so that you could be taught to control your abilities.

And then they had left you, despite that you'd gained that control. They had stopped visiting, stopped bringing you news of the rest of your family...and you had nothing left.

The priest became your second father, and guided you as best he could. But on this evening, he'd informed you that in a week a ritual was to be performed, and that the chamber would need to be cleansed daily until that time.

"Why? Would not once be enough? Or twice?"

"You know the rules here, child. Everything has to be done for a reason. We have been told that the chamber is to be cleaned daily, and that is the way it must be."

"Is it an important ritual?" you asked.

"Yes, of course. We make an offering to Lord Beerus, and naturally, everything must be just so."

"Alright. Is there anything else that I need to know?"

"One last thing, yes." The priest turned away and opened a cabinet. "You'll have to wear this."

It was nothing more than a white gown, but looked as if it would barely pass your knees.

"Isn't it a bit...short?" you asked.

"Don't ask me why they're made that way," he said. "It's been that way for years, you know. But you do at least get something with it."

He turned back to the cabinet, and took out a silver necklace. "I apologize, I really do. But the sacred nature of the...chamber...well, you can understand."

"Yes," you said quietly, looking over the necklace briefly. However odd it sounded, at least it would be a break from the monotony.

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The first day passed in silence. You wore the dress, and put on that thin snake-like chain of silver, and cleaned the chamber as instructed. There was nothing more in the room than an altar and  some candleholders, but you assumed that everything needed would be set up later.

The second day...you had the feeling that you were being watched. As you turned, now and then you could swear that you heard footsteps. As you left the room, you just knew that there was someone behind you. But when you turned to look, no one was there.

As you were changing out of the gown at the end of the third day, you felt a lingering and briefly painful touch on your shoulder, but as before, when you glanced back to see the source--there wasn't one. Though, the next morning as you were showering, you did notice a cut in the same place.

The fourth day...well, you were beginning to wonder what was going on, to put it mildly.

You could hear whispers as you were kneeling once again to clean the altar, or at least--some whispers, small snatches of conversation.

"...perfectly adequate. Lovely..."

"...we're in agreement?"

"...suppose...yes."

When you asked the priest, he would only say that several people had had their final moments in that chamber, long ago, and that sometimes their voices could be heard. But something...something about what he was saying didn't feel right. Something was off. You decided that you had to find out more.

But the ritual was going to take place in only three days. What could you expect to find?

The whispers returned the next day, and you strained your hearing to its limits, but once more caught a conversation.

"...know it's satisfactory?"

"...leave what he told us to. That's all."

"...complicated. Wouldn't it be easier just to..."

"...this way for a reason."

You wondered what they meant. If someone had died, wouldn't their last words be more, well, profound? Not seeming to be in some kind of a disagreement? Not asking questions?

The morning of the sixth day, you opened the chamber to find a bowl of cherries waiting on the altar, and naturally being curious, you took it and brought it back to the priest.

"I found it on the altar," you said. "Did someone sneak in after I left last night?"

"No," he replied, "It's a sort of mark that...is left on this day, as a primary offering. There will likely be something there tomorrow as well. If there is, bring it back to me, and just do as you have been doing."

So you went back and started again, dusting off the spotless candleholders, wiping down the nearly-shining altar...

As you were getting back up you felt a finger trace up your spine.

You shivered and turned to see the culprit, but as before--nothing.

Your heart was racing as you turned again, and heard an almost girlish giggle. Almost--if you weren't perfectly certain that the voice was male. Then there was a darker chortle from another voice, this one more obviously male than the last.

And then you heard more whispers.

"...wait? It's making me..."

"...patience, lord. We'll have..."

"...not all blessed with your...at the very least..."

"Oh, fine...but don't..."

There was a shift in the air. Something seemed to touch your mind, as if probing the lock on a door. You'd never encountered something like that--only in keeping the power within you locked behind the metaphorical door, and so had no choice but to allow whatever it was in.

It was like taking a deep breath of cool air. The feeling spread through your face and you felt pressure in your skull building, although there seemed to be no inclination to hurt you. It seemed to want only to explore your mind.

And then you felt a touch on your shoulder again.

"Don't try to look," said a husky voice behind you, "...we both know you'll see nothing if you do. Close your eyes."

You obeyed, shaking, as the hand on your shoulder moved to your throat. You could feel claws, but they seemed content to brush over the delicate skin of your neck, making tiny cuts that would bleed only a drop.

The feeling in your skull amplified and shifted to a lightning bolt of bliss. A shiver ran through your body.

"I think that's enough."

The lighter of the two voices had sounded off again, though you could swear there was no one else in the room but the owner of the claws. It was as if the sound had bypassed your ears entirely and gone straight to your brain.

Suddenly, the hand drew back, and when you finally had the courage to open your eyes again...

Yup, just as you expected.

Gone.