Slenderman x Reader One-shots

Mistake Turned Tribulation

For those who need warnings: This chapter contains depictions of rape.
      

       The rhythmic falls of your boots against concrete reverberated over the dwindling sounds of life in town. Evening was growing closer and closer to dusk, signaling for many stores along the streets to close shop for the day. With a hum in your throat and a gift box clutched tightly against your bosom, you eagerly traversed the crosswalks and pathways in an effort to get back home - back to the mansion that you had come to love. Passers-by paid you no mind, busy with their own conversations with each other or on their cell phones; some sang along to the music blasting from their headphones, and others just hung their heads in a shy manor, trying to get away from the hustle and bustle. The street lamps that lined the store fronts, standing tall and watchful, began to light up one by one. For each lamp that awoke, a shop's windows darkened.
       A tall, darkly dressed stranger stood ahead; he leaned against the mouth of an alley, taking brief drags of his cigarette. The fedora on his head cast a heavy shadow over his face, and the tilt of his head seemed to be deliberately angled to cause such a thing. Around his long body was a black trechcoat, which stopped somewhere short of his pale calves that peeked from between the edges of coat and boots. This person looked nothing less than suspicious, and you weren't sure if you wanted to pass by or divert your route.
       Too late.
       He caught you staring at him. The tilt of his head, heavily garnished by the spread of a toothy grin, made it obvious that you had been noticed. Only a glimmer of his neck and the lower-half of his face were exposed to the street lights, in which you found that his pale skin was apparent throughout his body. The starkness reminded you of Slenderman's complexion, but you dashed away the possibility that these two would know each other, considering that you only knew of Slendereman's faceless self. You and Slenderman had only been dating for about a month, and he had yet to mention any family or fellow beings of his kind. For all you knew, he was a singularity of his kind - a phenomenon of the universe.
       "Well, hello, gorgeous," came a deep, gravelly voice, coated with the lubrication of lustful intentions. The stranger stamped out his cigarette onto the sidewalk before approaching you. He never lost his excited grin, and the shadow of his hat refused to expose the remaining upper-half of his face. Somehow, it tilted this way and that in sync with its master's movements, ensuring that he be shielded from the humanly lights of night.
       Instantly, you froze in place, a chill running up your spine. You clutched the gift box tighter to your chest, somehow hoping that its connection to Slenderman would provide protection. "I don't want any trouble," you blurted out, trying to say something in your defense. It sounded fruitless as soon as you heard the phrase leave your lips. Still, you held firm, trying not to show your fear.
       The stranger didn't seem to care, towering over you as he stopped only a couple of feet away. Less and less humans passed by the two of you, and it was only a matter of time before there were no witnesses to scream for. "No trouble," your tall offender still wouldn't lose his grin, and now you could see how each tooth tapered into sharp points. "I just had to admire your beauty is all," he purred. "Wanted to give a 'how-do-ya-do", if that's okay," at that, he reached into the loose neckline of his trench coat, digging around for something, "and, to give you one of these," Within seconds, he plucked out a pair of perfectly intact roses - one red, one blue. Their petals were lush and thick, and their leaves and stems were vibrant greens. How had they remained so healthy inside his coat?
       Hesitant, your eyes darted between the roses and the stranger's grin. The gesture seemed innocent enough, but you were slowly learning about the Creepypasta world, and this character seemed more and more like a Creepypasta. "Just one?" you queried.
       "Yup," he quipped.
       "For free?" you pried.
       "Only for a doll like you," he flirted.
       "I give nothing in return," you arched a brow, suspicious of the possible monkey's paw before you.
       "You don't have to," he purred, "but we'll see where it takes us."
       From that exchange, it all seemed as though you were safe. So what harm was there to take a flower that was being gifted to you? "Okay," you mumbled, reaching a hand from your tight grip on the box.
       As much as you enjoyed the traditional red rose, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the blue one. Such a rose was a rarity in itself, and with how few you've seen in person, why not take the opportunity to own one for a while? Your fingers dantily plucked the blue rose from the stranger's grip. There seemed to be no thorns, which you silently thanked him for; having to carry a thorned rose stem back home with the gift box would have been a challenge, no doubt.
       "I see," the stranger's voice, once laced with lust, was now heavy with barley-reigned hatred.
       Before you could sniff the rose, a large, muscular hand wrapped itself around your wrist. You dropped the rose, unable to control your digits with how tightly he squeezed; you could feel your bones crunching against each other. "But you said I owed you nothing," you exclaimed, wincing aloud at the pain in your wrist as you struggled against the firm strength of your offender.
       "You don't," now, his grin was gone, replaced by a grimace of disgust. At that, he yanked you to him, practically dragging you into a dim alley as you yelped and protested. "I just can't let you live with your decision," his disheartened tone rumbled against the walls of the alleyway. "A blue rose is only trouble."
       The stranger didn't let you argue his point - whatever his reasoning was. The force of his shove looked effortless, and yet it knocked the wind right out of your lungs when you slammed into the brick wall. The gift box in your undamaged arm bounced from your hold, toppling somewhere to the concrete ground of litter and mold. There was no time to fully catch your breath before your tall oppressor forced his wake upon your small frame. He gripped your shoulders with sharp fingers, pulling you into a deep kiss of fury and passion. Despite your muffled screams, he continued on; even your swatting hands were captured and held to the wall by - tendrils?
       White tendrils; branching from this stranger's back, similar to Slenderman's. It was then that you realized that your attacker could know your boyfriend. Maybe he would stop? If only you could get the chance to tell him.
       Other tendrils wrapped around your thighs and waist, lifting you higher against the wall as the Slender-being unbuttoned his long coat. When you opened your mouth in an attempt to explain the situation, another tendril was rammed into it; swirling and exploring your insides like a tongue. You tried biting it, only to receive a pained grunt and a firm slap to the cheek; the trendril returned to its search in order to keep you quiet. By this point, the pale being stood before you with stark nudity, his erection much larger than you dared to imagine. Still, you couldn't see his face. The shadow of the fedora was ever present, but you were now certain there was little to be revealed.
       Tears broke from the confines of your eyelids; hot and flowing. You soon came to the acceptance that there was little you could do to fight against this man, especially with his advantage of extra limbs. You wimpered as he traced a gentle digit across your cheek. You coughed as the tendril inside your mouth tickled the back of your throat. You squirmed as the offender hooked a clawed finger around the rim of your pants. You wondered if Slenderman would still love you after this was all over; if you would survive for him to discover your tainted form.
       The stranger leaned close, lining his sharp-toothed mouth with your ear as he whispered, "I'm going to show you what we could have had." The ruggedness of his voice made your eardrum shudder with dread. You whimpered again, trying to beg one last time for mercy, but it was ignored. He ripped off your pants with ease, panties and all, and exposed your lower half to the cool night air. Your desperate, muffled cries fell on deaf ears - or no ears at all. With a few rough kisses and hickeys to the crook of your neck, the stranger pressed himself onto you, lifting your hips in preparation for the plunge.
       There was nothing you could do; your were powerless to prevent the inevitable. Knowing this, your mind began to fade, doing its best to block out the possibility of holding such traumatic memories. The majority of your senses fell numb to the world, and all you could do was hope the event would end soon.
       The stranger choked; a sound that you didn't expect from someone in control. His advances paused. He grit his teeth in discomfort of something, but froze in place. Upon regaining some of your senses, you noticed a dark vine piercing through the side of your offender's neck. In the dim glow of the distant street lights, you could see the damaged muscles flinch and retract in some vain effort to ease the discomfort. The vine had an augur of familiarity, causing your mind to awaken from its brief stasis.
       A voice; a deep rumble of unbridled rage accompanied by hollow hisses and guttoral growls. You knew this voice, and it lit a fire of hope in your chest, as it slowly annunciated a simple query, "What have you done?" The vine retracted from your attacker's neck, leaving a gaping hole of gushing blood.
       Lowering you to the ground, the stranger released you from his white tendrils, cursing up a storm. His head turned, just a little, back and forth between his attacker and yourself, a dreadful grimace spread across his mouth. "Slender? Shit!" He backed away, holding his neck, "I didn't know! You know I wouldn't do that, if I - shit!" He didn't have time to beg for mercy.
       Slenderman lunged for your offender, gripping the being's head with his large, bony hand and slammed it into the wall. First, there was a crack, then there was a crunch. You weren't sure if it was the stranger's skull or the brick wall. The light was practically null from that far down the alley, but you could catch glimpses of Slenderman in his rage. He didn't look quite the same, and you had only seen him in his pristine, punctilious demeanor.
       Somehow, the stranger managed to push Slenderman off, but their entangled tendrils held them together, twisting like mating snakes. The two wrestled on the filthy ground, and you could hear the animalistic hisses and growls that you had only heard on the nature channels. You watched, frozen in place, despite your half-nude attire; the ground was too dirty to bother sitting on, even though your legs begged give way. All you could do was watch the darkness of the alley way, listening to the ruckus beyond your sight. Until, finally, there was a crash, followed by the collapse of bricks. Most likely, a wall had been busted through.
      Slenderman limped from the wall of shadow some moments later, looking like he had gone too many rounds with a bear. His formal attire was disheveled and ruined. Scratches littered his skin from head to toe; he was even missing a shoe. At first, you found yourself pressing back against the wall, terrified that another tall, pale being wanted to harm you. The embrace eased your frightened muscles; his gentle tendrils wrapping around your frame, tenderly pulling you closer to him as if you were the wings of a butterfly. His arms completed the hold, letting you bury your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of his woodland cologne. He briefly removed his suit jacket, despite its less-than-attached appearance, and draped it over your shoulders; its length was more than enough to hide your exposed lower half.
       "I had wondered why you were gone so long, so I came to inspect, but," he choked, reluctantly recalling the initial moment of witnessing you in the alley way, "I never imagined you would be suffering this. And by the hands of my-" He froze, disgusted with having an form of relativity with the brother he had just mauled. "Apologies will never be enough," he concluded.
       There was little that you could say, other than, "I just want to go home." It was one of the few thoughts you could hold on to, using them as a dam to the swelling emotions stuffed away. You searched the ground for the giftbox you had dropped earlier. Luckily, it hadn't been kicked aside too far, and you attempted to step over to it. Your legs tremored, quickly giving way from beneath you. Slenderman held you up with his tendrils, fearful that if he let you go, someone else might try to steal you from him. "The box," your voice cracked. "I got something for you." Your lips quivered, tugging at the corner like the weakening supports of you dam.
       A single tendril reached out and retrieved the giftbox, handing it to you with great tenderness. "We'll open it at home, when you have fresh clothes on," his soothing voice lulled you into what little comfort that your mind would allow.
       With your approving nod, Slenderman lifted you into his arms, cradling you close. You inhaled his scent again, but this time, the relief was too great; you began to cry. You gripped his shirt, pressing your face into his chest, and sobbed every bit of grief that was bottled away. For a moment, you felt Slenderman's form quake; perhaps with the guilt of not finding you sooner; perhaps with emnity to the being that had attacked you; or perhaps with sorrow that he could only do so much to comfort you.
       Sometime during your episode of lament, Slenderman brought the two of you - and the giftbox - back to the mansion, where you could be safe again.