Eyes of the Divine (Yandere!Eyeless Jack X GN!Reader)

Hey *REDACTED*, It's Me, Ya Boi

Lucid dreaming wasn't something you had ever experienced, and you preferred to keep it that way. However, God decided not to listen to you that night, and instead chose to give you a lucid nightmare.

You awoke in a dark room, head aching ever so slightly. You were sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair with a short back, and if you leant over it, allowing the wood to press against your spine, you were sure that something would crack.

You looked down at yourself; your vision was blurred. You blinked a couple of times and went to raise your hand to wipe at your eyes...

But you couldn't move.

Your arms were behind your back, tied to the chair with tightly bound rope, as were your ankles. Your breathing hitched when you tried to wiggle your wrists, only to find them unmovable. You tried to yank them free, but all it did was cause the rope to rub against your already sore skin. With a gasp, you felt tears pricking at your eyes, and you violently shook your legs, trying to get the rope loose.

'Stop moving.'

The disembodied voice tore through the distressed silence like a blade through a windpipe, rendering you speechless. The tears that silently fell from your eyes had made your vision clearer, and you wished that you would go blind in that very moment.

Stood before you, at roughly seven feet in height, was the very thing you never wanted to see for as long as you lived.

'Fuck,' you whispered shakily, 'fuck fuck fuck! God, please let me go, please don't kill me!' You closed your eyes, trembling in pure terror as No-Face just...stood there. Menacingly.

'What are you doing?' He sounded confused. 'What is that stuff coming from your eyes?'

'They're tears. I'm crying cause I'm scared, okay?! Just let me go.' Your voice wobbled as you sobbed, daring to crack your eyes open.

'You are scared of me?'

'Why wouldn't I be scared of you?' you snapped, despair abruptly twisting into anger, 'I was seven fucking years old and I nearly died in that ritual that you so graciously gatecrashed. Do you know how terrified I was when I woke up one night and saw Jeff and the Puppeteer watching me? Do you know how many people have called me names because I was talking to Jane? It's been living hell and it's all your goddamn fault!'

You waited for his response, chest heaving. You were still quivering—of course you were, he was your biggest fear—but all the years of hatred had resurfaced like a vicious dragon, rearing its head with a fearsome growl.

Hah, I guess I never let it go, you thought bitterly, glaring at the entity before you with fifteen years worth of rage and disgust.

There was a noise that could have been a sigh. 'Your name is (Y/N), correct?'

'Kinda offended that you don't even remember the name of the kid your traumatised, but yes, that's my name.'

'Well, (Y/N), I will apologise for the...obvious pain caused by the ritual and my intervention. I did not expect it to hurt you.'

'Thanks?' you said, unsure of whether the apology was genuine. 'Can I go now?'

'No. There is still something to discuss.'

Your eyes widened in fear. You were so dead. 'L-Look, I'm sorry, okay?' you stammered, 'It wasn't my original idea and I—'

'Please stop talking. This is not about your experiment to reverse the effects on Mr Nichols. Yet.'