Eyeless Sockets [Creepypasta x Blind!Reader]

Prologue

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT HOW DOES THIS SHIT EVEN WORK!?

You struggled as you tried to accomplish the impossible.

At least, it was impossible for you.

I mean, opening a can of soda can be a little difficult for a person such as yourself.

But did you give in? Of course not.

Your older brother had enough of it. "[Y/N], give me the damn can alread-" and he was cut off by your angry, spooky tone.

"SHut up, Harry. I am in need of no help from you!", you told him. He just chuckled and continued to watch your struggling.

And you continued with that struggling for another 2 and a half minutes. He was getting pretty fucking tired of it.

You growled as you slammed the soda can on the table in front of you and glared at it. "You have betrayed me, [insert soda name]. I thought we were actually collaborative and all, but now I see how it is. God, my feelings! I can't take it anymore!"

And so, you leaned backwards in your chair dramatically and looked at Harry with your eye. "You can open it now."

"Fuck that, I'll get soda all over me. You slammed that thing too hard!"

"Oh come on! You volunteered to actually open that fucking can!"

"You disagreed. I'm not bothering with it anymore."

You huffed and crossed your arms. It was useless to argue over it anyway, so you gave in.

As if the universe hated you, the can somehow exploded and got soda all over you.

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, MY BEAUTIFUL OWL PJ'S!" you yelled.

While your wonderful brother was laughing, the lights went out. He immediately stopped and looked around. "What happened to the lights?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know? I have juice all over my favorite pyjamas for hecks sake!" you answered him.

Suddenly, the TV turned on, static all over the screen. Scattered, like little cybernetic ants all over the place, as if every tone of the gray showing up on the television was a group fighting to the death with the other tones. At least, that's what you always think of when you look at static on a screen.

Suddenly, two hands slowly came out of the television, of different skintones. A hand was pale white, seemingly with the sleeve of a white hoodie covering it halfway, while the other hand wasn't as pale, but it was also dripping with water droplets.

Unfortunately for the people or beings coming out of the TV, that thing was put on a drawer.

Know what that means?

That their supposedly scary entry entertained you and didn't scare you, as you watched the two boys fall down onto the floor, a taller black haired male on top of a shorter one with dirty blonde hair.

You continued looking at them. The pose they were in would describe one of those cliché positions that two people would stay in.

You know?

The one where one of them is on top of the other, staring deeply into the other's eyes?

That was exactly the position. What made it better, was that you recognized the two boys as creepypastas.

And they were the ones you shipped together, actually.

You giggled, which sounded more like a chicken dying slowly, while looking at them with one of those "OwO what's this" faces.

Your brother was beyond confused why you made that face, and about whatever was happening.

"God dammit, you dumbass!", yelled the paler of the two noodles, quickly getting off of the shorter one, and glaring at him.
"You said we'd land smoothly!" he continued.

"Not my damn fault you tried to get out while I was doing the same fucking shit, asshole." replied the dirty blonde.

They continued with their argument while you sat there laughing at them, something you shouldn't really be doing, and your brother just went to try and turn on the rest of the lights.

After a short while, you decided you should make them acknowledge your presence.

You cleared your throat agonizingly loud that it hurt, and spoke.

"You sound very professional, spooky noodles. But to be honest, not as professional as I thought."