Trouble Maker (Hiro Hamada X Reader)

Chapter Thirteen: Aftermath

Every Creepypasta reader insert i read ever:

*gets kidnapped**brought to slenderman's mansion**tells reader she'll be living there from now on**reader doesn't give two shi she got kidnapped and lived with them psychopath killers like it was the most normal thing in the whole damn world**find love partner**trouble**happy ending yay*

XD sorry, I just really had to let it out.

Not hatin, I just find it really really hilarious. Like seriously, the reader is like: "i got kidnapped. oh whatever, i'll just live in this mansion with these killers, happy yay!"

Anyway, in the future, I will be adding decision chapters. Stay tuned :*

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Abigail Callaghan.

Kathryn.

Hiro Hamada.

Danger.

You jolted up with beads of cold sweat trailing down your pale cheeks, your breathing became ragged and short as awful memories of the night of the fire rushed in quicker than a blink, unintentionally feeding your own mind with nothing but negative thoughts.

You felt overwhelmed as you scanned the room, clutching tightly the blanket draped on your shivering and weakening frame. It didn't take you another second to learn that you're currently inside a hospital room. You caught a glimpse of a withering white flower on a vase located on the nearby lamp table, a petal graciously plucking itself away and landing on the tiled floor.

How long was I out? Days? Weeks? And what is it with people putting flowers? I'm not dead yet.

"(Y/N)?"

You whipped your head to the source of the sound that startled you. Uncle Patrick sat on a cushioned seat a few meters away from your bed, his calloused hands clamped together. Deep bags formed visibly under his almost lifeless green orbs, his once nicely swept tousled brown hair is now shaggy and greasy, as well as his crumpling clothes. It was as though he neglected the need to keep good hygiene to keep a keen eye on you.

"How long was I out?" You asked with no greetings or whatsoever.

Patrick frowns. "Hello to you too, (Y/N). And I was hoping you'd change your attitude after waking up."

"Answer me, damn it." You hissed, hands curling.

"It won't hurt you to be nice to me at least once. That's all I'm asking for."

"Really? How about telling that to my Dad." You spat out with a venomous tone.

Silence anchored itself in the air, creating an eerie demeanor in the enclosed room. Patrick lowers his head, his graying brown hair covering his devastated expression. The silence didn't dissipate a bit as you continued ignoring your uncle, merely staring at the ajar window fixated beside your bed. Some unwanted strands of your hair brushed away as the cold morning breeze greeted you lightly.