Slenderman x Reader One-shots

Heartstrings

            The large laundry basket rested against one side of your tilted hips as you glided down one of the long halls of the mansion. Another load of towels were folded and ready to supply the bathrooms. You were tasked to carrying them to their needed destinations. Now that you were familiar with the entire layout of your master's mansion, you had been added to the other chores that your fellow Proxies were involved in. Laundry was one of such chores.
            At first, you thought the boys were just being sexist, but when they evenly contributed to the work while including you in it, things became clear that this was indeed a normal thing for Proxies. One would gather the dirty laundry, a second would sort and load it all into the washer or dryer, a third would fold and place them all in baskets, and a fourth partaker would deliver the clean washing to wherever they belonged. Each day of laundry duty rotated the assigned positions, of course - to make things fair.
            As your feet lightly strolled along the carpeted third floor of the large abode, you began to hear a faint melody within the air. At first, you thought you were just hearing things; lost in your thoughts. With each closing step, the tunes gradually grew clearer, to which you recognized the sounds of a piano. Nearby, in the hall, you saw a set of double doors that lead into a room that you knew was Slenderman's hoard of human musical instruments. This was the first time you had ever heard him play anything, so it was only right that you were at least a little surprised of what you heard.
            Upon approaching the door, you stopped to listen, shifting the basket of towels on your hip. You were almost instantly entranced by each keystroke that sang from your master's fingers. You no longer saw the interior of the mansion before your eyes; you saw yourself. Were you in some sort of dream? What dream held your form in an empty space?
            The you in your vision expressed emotions of various sorts as though in a dramatic play. She moved accordingly with the piano's voice. At some points, you were innocent and loving, and others were fierce and cunning. The song was simple, yet sophisticated. It hinted at small measures of intricacy. This song seemed to be plucking your heartstrings with each note, playing your very soul for all to hear. Your body grew warm with the feelings of familiarity.
            And then it stopped.
            The hallway and double doors returned to your eyes. There was silence.
            Confused by the abrupt ending, you quietly twisted the crystal doorknob and cracked the large, antique gate open. In the center of the room was a grand piano. It had been modified to fit Slenderman's proportions, which should have hinted to you sooner that he did play it. At the stool of said piano was your one and only master, scribbling away on a sheet of music in front of him.
            With the skills you had acquired through your Proxyhood, you attempted to creep up behind the Tall Man to see what he had written. By the time you were only a few feet away, your master finished his bout of composing, froze, and twisted around as he sprouted his tendrils to flip the papers over. Before he could hide his work, you were certain you caught a glimpse of the song's title, which you swore was your name. On another note, however, you were impressed that you had startled the Slenderman at all. Was he so engrossed in his writing that he lost focus of the mansion's happenings?
            "____," Slenderman stumbled in his words like a child caught in mischief. "Must you disturb me? You have chores to complete." He gestured to your basket of towels still comfortably hooked to your hip.
            You laughed to yourself, briskly thinking how you would have been choked to near death if you had done this months prior. These days, Slenderman had a newfound respect for you - or something. He was gentle, attentive, and tolerant of you now. Here and there, he would show some forceful leadership when around the others, but when he would make his visits at night, it was as though your master had become an entirely new person. You had to admit: you enjoyed it, but tried not to bring it up. Slenderman would get angry and talk down to if you tried mentioning his new side.
            "I just heard you playing," you casually explained. "And all this time, I thought you only collected the instruments like everything else." With a soft smile, you complimented, "It sounded nice. Why'd you stop?"
            "I had nothing left to play. It's still in production."
            "Can I hear it again? I think I came in at the middle of it."
            "When it's done," Slenderman stood, his tendrils retracted. He began urging you back to the room's entrance. "Now be off and finish putting the laundry away. I'm sure the others have plenty more waiting for you." This forced out a bubble of giggles from you. It was obvious how uneasy the Tall Man was with your presence. He was hiding something about that music. Still, you complied without a word and waltzed back into the hallway. Slenderman said, "Don't disturb me again. Must I lock every door for my privacy?"
            "You're one to talk," you called back, halfway down the hall now. All you heard in response was a click of the door.
            You were sure now: Slenderman was writing a musical composition about you.