Merry Christmas !
Merry Christmas !
Ghostface x Gn!reader
Masterlist if you want to read my other things.
TW/CW: reader has a mother, breaking in, brief mention of kys
Merry (late) Christmas to those who celebrates it and even those who don't. Also happy new year, I hope this year will be full of money and health for you all. Also if you have any projects I deeply hope it'll realize.
I have the unpleasant feeling this work is sloppy and that I'm regressing and losing vocabulary. Also Ethan gave me the ick here, I made him a total loser.
I literally wrote so many different things and yet I can't finish any of them, this is pure torture.
05/01/2024 (7 409 words)
You're not one to go all out for Christmas, most of the time, it's just a pretext for family to gather and eat and share some juicy gossip. And you love it ! When they're not pestering you with question about your love life or job or study or just anything boring.
This year, you all gathered at your aunt's house. She's a single mother of one, they live alone in this huge cottage far away from the city you're used to. It's nice living here but it's deeply disabling being obligated to use your car to just buy some bread.
In New York, you either walk or use public transports.
It's still fun to be here on vacations, it changes from your daily life. Your mom is going back and forth between the car and the house to empty the car boot, you on the other side, are stuck with your aunt and cousin. Your aunt is telling you how glad she is to finally see the whole family together, saying how much you've grown and bla bla bla.
"Come help me with your stuff !" your mom calls you from outside.
Not making her repeat herself by fear of regretting it later, you hurry to the alley outside. Your mother is already emptying the car, throwing your bags on the ground and frenetically searching for what you assume are her phone, in your pocket.
Walking to her side, you hand her her phone which owes you a thanks before she pulls you to the car trunk. Sighing, your hand grab the bag you brought with you full with clothes. You're staying here for a week after all ! But you can't even take out the bag entirely from its confine as something lower catch your eyes; the tire. It's all deflated.
"Mom, is it me or our tire's flat ?" you make her know instantly. She turns her head to you and frowns.
"Shit you're right." she double check."That's weird, it wasn't like that when we parked here earlier." A small silence filled with bird's singing and light wind replace her words. "It's just our luck, she sighs. We'll change it the day of our departure, your aunt probably has a spare tire."
Your mom doesn't let you answer as she grabs her bag and leave to the house. You're left alone before the open car boot, thinking about your bad luck. Here, it's a necessity to have a working car ! The nearest grocery store is hours away from here by foot and thirty minutes by car.
Crouching down, you put your hand on the holed tire to examine it. You don't really understand, that's some really bad gash, what the hell ? What did you even drove on ? The hole is as big as the length of two of your index fingers. Surely even driving over a nail wouldn't do that.
Are animals frequent in this area ? Or maybe it was already holed at home but the long road worsen it. Just your luck, from every car in the country, or even just the ones here, your car had to be targeted. The world hates you. You hope you won't often need to use your car.
Grabbing the handle of your bag, you slam the trunk door of the vehicle and head to your room. Damn, you kind of missed this place to be honest. You have pretty good memories from here !
The house is quite separated from the other, forest being the only thing present here. You remember climbing up trees, playing in the snow or watching TV before the chimney. And this exact room in which you're staying for the week already hosted you, with its heavy blankets that more often than not itches but are too warm to let go.
You know this place all too well.
What changed ? Life was so cool before, so simple. You did not have to go to a school you don't even like, you never even had to think about later. Your later was asking yourself what would be your next snack. And yet, here you are today, thrown in adult world. And you're deeply lost, everything is so slow and fast at the same time.
You fear you might lose your friends by changing University, you fear to start everything over again, you fear to stay forever stuck in a job you don't like. This room offers you a moment of peace, a portal from your childhood reminding you how everything was easier before.
Shame hits you because you know you'll have to come down to greet everyone when you have nothing to talk about. You're not excellent at school, nor bad, just in the fair middle. You don't have any partner, but you have a few friends. Your life's just boring and you don't want to tell it to everyone. Each one of your cousin always find something to be proud of, you don't have much, nothing to brag about.
To light up the mood, you turn on your phone to send a message to one of your friends; she seems busy as she's not answering. Same for the few others friends you have, some you're not even that close to, only friends at school.
Delight cross you in seeing someone writing you, only for the name to disappear immediately before you're able to see it. Man, you could have finally erased the boredom.
After some time mourning in your corner, your mom yelled at you from the living room to get down to greet the family. Sighing, you turn off your phone and rise up from your bed.
A faint music was heard in the background already, small snacks could be seen scattered a little everywhere on every surface and your aunts, cousins and uncles were greeting each others warmly.
Your mom tells you to come beside her by a sign of the hand, going down each stairs slowly, taking your time, you think about your bed which you already miss.
Greeting every person on the way, smiling, taking news from the family you dare ask yourself what have you done to deserve such a big household. By the time you reach your mom, she grabs your arms and put you right before one of your aunt, the conversation quickly drift to you.
"So ? What do you do now ? How's your new school ? Did you make any friends ? your aunt asks.
You reminded her that you were now in University and not in middle school in a teasing tone, to what she gasped before asking you your age and proceeding to moan about how time flies.
-Last time I saw you you were still so small !
-Show them the picture you have with your friends." your mom almost order you. By her tone and eagerness, you couldn't tell if it was pride of what her child has became, or fear of judgement from the others. As if they were going to shame her for having a kid who did nothing with their life, scared of them thinking you were a loser.
You take out your phone, scroll in your gallery to find the group photo of you and your friends. Your smiles are fake and awkward because the teacher is the one taking the picture. A few months ago, all of you handed a quite big model of the building for a homework, you honestly chose the University's building by lack of better idea. But your teacher was delighted, to everyone's surprise.
He insisted on taking a picture of you all with it to mark this moment forever, congratulating you and complimenting your skills and everything. Did you deserve all this ? No. Did you complaint ? Neither.
Your aunt seems to light up at the mere idea of you having friends, and showing her. It probably makes her feel part of your life. One by one, you present her your friends. Throwing a few anecdotes here and here. She tells you who she thinks is the meanest, the kindest, the prettiest.
Finally, everyone was presented. Smiling lightly, she tells you that she's proud you're working that hard and you turn off the phone. You wanted to leave and grab something to drink when your aunt seize your arm with a frown.
-Where do you think you're going ?
Damn, what is it this time ?
-I don't think I met everyone. Come back here.
The woman practically forces you to turn on your phone once more to show her the picture. You don't outright understand what's the matter as everyone was already introduced, it's when she uses her pointer to show you someone that it clicks.
-And who are those men ? And this girl ? What are you hiding ?
-This photo was taken a while back now, my friends and I don't really talk much to them anymore.
Her eyes glint with a funny mischievous light when problems are mentioned. She slaps kindly your arms, pushing you to tell her everything. You laugh.
-The one with the sleeveless shirt is Chad, the girl next to him is Mindy, they're siblings. The guy all to the left and next to me is Ethan.
-What happened ? They all seem nice !
Well, they are in a way. It's just stupid disputes that destroyed everything. Chad tried flirting with one of your friends, it did not lead to anything as he suddenly went with a certain Tara. When he was faced with the problems he created himself, he said that flirting wasn't equal to a relationship, that he owed you guys nothing.
Your friend was hurt, Mindy wanted to comfort her but, well, she's good friend with Tara and she's Chad's sister so it was complicated. You still talk occasionally with Mindy by the way, she was really nice and never did anything against you. It's just awkward now. But it's not her fault.
So yeah, you stopped hanging out together.
Your aunt was nodding throughout your story, listening carefully, sometimes throwing in some anecdotes of her, sometimes giving her opinion on the matter.
-And the other one ? she asks and for a moment you're confused who she's talking about until she points her interest on your phone.
Right, Landry. You completely forgot about him. He's on the picture since he was working with you as well but to be honest, you're not really close.
He's the only one who stayed with you despite the whole flirting argument. According to him, he likes both groups and is close to both side and it's okay, he's not the one who cheated on someone. But, yeah, it's strange.
No, scratch that, not it, he's strange.
He's in love with one of your friend. Well, you think he is anyway. They're often talking, on the phone and outside. He's always taking part in your group hangouts, buying foods, cinema ticket to whoever forgot money. You could've liked him if he talked to you, because he never.
Every time, and it's not even exaggerated, literally every time, you are all together, Ethan does not glance your way. Even for a second, you could talk to him and he'd answer with short words in a curt tone without looking at you to your face !
And you asked everyone, you're the only one with whom he acts this way.
While he's all lovey dovey with your closest friend. Closest not because you rate your group of friend, that'd be mean, but because you've known her for the longest time. He's following her, she's always the one to bring him to your parties and he'd mostly talk to her. Damn, you're a group, if he doesn't like you what the hell is he still doing here ?
Plus, your friend always talk your ear off about him, how he's so sweet, cute, smart and whatever. Sometimes you feel like she's trying to sell him to you the same way blender or vacuum cleaner are sold on TV.
Anyway, Ethan's weird and he's not your friend.
You simply told your aunt he was the boyfriend of one of your friend, that is partially false as he probably has a huge crush on her, to which she smiled and finally let you go.
You like your family, but you don't feel like telling this all over again to everyone here.
You spent the whole evening chatting with the kids and taking news out of the oldest. Them, on the other hand, kept asking you about a potential partner, school, grades and future. It was tiring but in the middle of it all were laughs, tears and anecdotes you would never forget.
The night has long arrived when everyone start talking about a children Christmas's show happening in town. From what you understood, there would be giant muppet. Some were reluctant because of the driving time and the sun setting but the kids were now overexcited at the idea of seeing muppet dancing.
Honestly, you didn't want to go but they've decided to go out all together now, you didn't have much say in it. Even if you hoped you wouldn't leave the house for tonight.
You weren't feeling it, already tired from the trip and the day. You lied about having a bad headache to stay in. You could rest and enjoy that big house all to yourself that way.
It was hard to survive the strongly disapproving stare of your mother and her dark look but you made it ! You still don't know how, usually, your mom is quite severe on the whole family reunion and she wants you to be there all the time, something about you being disrespectful.
She tells you not to get used to it but while leaving, you hear the others tell her that since your car can't drive because of its tire, there wouldn't have any seat left for you anyway. To what some answer that there'll always be a place for everyone (but you chose to ignore that). Just your luck ! Maybe the world doesn't hate you. This flat tire reveals itself to be a gift.
Slowly but surely, the house empty itself. Each member of the family zip their warm jacket to the very top, preventing the smallest wind to pass through. Your aunt, the owner of the house, comes talk to you with a smile.
"You're not gonna try and sneak your lover in, do you ?
You laugh nervously, still not used to this kind of attention. No, auntie, don't you worry. It's not like you have someone in your life. You assure her that no, you won't sneak anyone in here. Plus, it's kind of gross to do dirty things in the family house but you did not tell her that.
She kisses your cheek, zip her jacket as well and leave the house. Standing before the window, you wave at everyone entering the multiple cars. A few minutes later, the vehicles are gone, only the tire's marks on the frosted dirt are left. You sigh, listening to the quiet wind outside the house, feeling safer than ever.
Finally, peace.
No children running, no parents yelling, no messy conversation screamed; just silence. You can breath and hear yourself think. Without the agitation of everyone, you truly feel the cool atmosphere of the house for the first time.
Should you light the chimney ? Not now, it's not that cold yet. You have time. You smile thinking about it. Yes, you have time ! In fact, you have the whole rest of the evening just for you ! Beaming, you run to your room to change in comfortable pajamas.
Your aunt probably has food in her kitchen but even though she's family, you're uncomfortable at the idea of taking stuff from her without asking. So you grabbed your own snacks. It's weird considering she always offer you to eat all you want.
When in underwear, you think that a good bath would actually be better than just changing into other clothes. And that's what you did, you turned on the water, put your music as loud as you could and slide in the bathtub, enjoying the warm water in these freezing days.
A good hour has gone since everyone had left, silence filled your ears. You were fully ready to sleep in your bed and rest. Well, that was your plan anyway until something crashed into the house startling you like never.
You curse, trying to ease your speeding heart. What the hell ? The sound came from above and then it was just next to you. Did something fall from the roof ? The sound crossed the house !
Of course, with a sound so precise, you immediately thought of the chimney. Did something just fall from it ? Like a tile or something bigger ? A brick, or more ?
Well, you're a little too old to believe in Santa Claus by now, but uh, you're not dreaming, right ? Okay, it's late, you're alone, it's creepy but that sound was probably from animals outside or decoration falling ? Plus, that house's old, it creaks sometimes. It's nothing, right ? Okay, it's clearly not creaking sounds but still.
You wait as still as a statue, contemplating your options. It's nothing, probably, as no sound can be heard anymore. So yeah, a brick that is.
Why does this kind of shit has to happen to you when you're alone ? Your whole family was literally here one hour ago ! You wouldn't be so paranoid if they were still with you !
Slowly but surely, taking your sweet time to get down each steps, you feel your phone vibrating in your hand in the process but aren't interested enough to look at it, eyes boring hole around you.
But when you set foot in the main room, you're terrified to discover ashes scattered on the ground from the chimney and further away in the room, reaching the kitchen, like something had spread them, leaving some kind of footprints. It wasn't human foot shape, fortunately, but it wasn't any animal's paw shape either.
What the fuck ?
Something entered ? What the hell ? How did it even went in the chimney in the first place ? Okay, you're creeped out now. Only, there's no sound in the house. It does not help you feel better, you have no idea if an animal's here with you, and if it's an animal, what kind ? It has to be heavy to do such a sound when falling and trailing that much ashes, on the other hand, it is able to climb a roof, apparently. You dearly hope it's not a bear, well, it's hard for a bear to enter by a chimney but, you know.
Quietly, you get out of the house without even bothering to take a jacket with you. There is absolutely no way you are staying in this haunted ass house. Alone in the snow outside, your eyes are fixated to the windows to search any kind of suspect movements, there's none.
You are absolutely freezing when you take out your phone to dial your aunt number. You need to ask her if there's any weird animals lurking in the area.
But of course, now that you're outside, there's no internet. Okay, you have to go back inside. It's okay, it's probably a bear, yeah, a baby bear. All cute and soft.
But the more you think about it, less you're convinced it's an animal.
Because how the fuck would it be able to go on the roof ! You saw videos on internet showing bears opening doors, it's quite impressive actually, but rooftop ? No, if one of them wanted to enter, they would have passed by the garage or one of the numerous doors of the house, not the damn chimney.
Is Santa Claus going to kill you ? That's the worst death ever.
Freezing your ass off outside, you decide to stay on the terrace right before the front door to get internet without needing to enter. But of course it doesn't work, it's like the lines are cut. Plus, you were scared whatever was inside would be able to punch through the window to grab you, but it's the numerous horror movie you saw talking.
You honestly have no idea what's safer; staying outside in the cold or staying inside with the intruder.
If the phone don't work, you at least need to join your family in town. You don't remember correctly where is it but there's literally one single straight road so you can definitely manage. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes lay on the broken car in the alley.
Yes, one of the tire is flat but it still is able to drive, right ? You don't have any choice anyway. The closest city is something like thirty minutes in car away, so at foot ? Probably one hour. And without jacket in such an angry wind ? No, certainly not. You just need to get the key and you get out, simple.
They key, which is inside.
Okay, okay, you can do this. The key is directly to the left of the entrance, it's easy. You breath, hyping yourself up before you push the door open. It's creaking, your heart beats faster, but there is no sign of anyone having heard you. It could have tricked you into believing you imagined everything but the heavy ashes footstep are very well present.
Keeping your eyes on the house, trying to hold the perimeters safe and assuring nothing would come towards you, you throw your hand on the furniture supposed to held the key without looking at it. The door is still open wide behind you and you'd rather die than to close it even if it meant you were risking to catch a really bad cold for the rest of the holidays.
Only, after a few minutes, indicated by the stinging of your eyes after not blinking for so long, your hand remains empty. A quick glance to the furniture's way confirms you the worst: the keys are missing.
Of course, nothing's easy. Your mom probably took them to her room, to your despair. On the other hand, there's still no sound in the house, except for the strong wind coming from the open door behind you, which makes you cringe. If someone's here, the noise is definitely going to attract them to you. Though, you still don't want to close it.
What if it's a burglar ? What if they are burglars ? You pray it's not a group, hell, you hope no one's here ! But if you have to choose between being mugged by one or multiple people, the choice is already done.
Backing slowly, you start feeling watched and fear whatever's inside might come get you by behind thanks to the back door. You have to hurry, you go upstairs, you take the keys and you bolt outside. Yeah, it's easy, it's an easy plan.
Do you run ? It'll be quicker but you might be heard. Shit shit, what are you supposed to do ? You can't even pinpoint in which room, which area of the house the intruder is ! With your luck, you'll stumble on them in the hallway or even your bedroom.
You won't run, you're too terrified to do any sound. Removing your shoes, you put them between the wall and the door in order to block it if it ever comes to close while you weren't there. There's multiple carpet, your socks won't do too much sound and if you're too scared to put the shoes back when leaving you can still drive in socks, dangerous but you'll deal with that later.
One step at a time, you approach the creaking stairs, ears ready to isolate the slightest sound that could signify a presence near or far from you.
You would have much rather not use these stairs but they're the only way upstairs, even if they're noisy.
The first step is silent, just like the second and third, however, your weight on the next ones cause them to cry, making you wince and stop in your track. In total, this staircase is composed of fifteen steps. You know it, you've counted everything at least once here.
Fuck it, you already made too much noises. Whoever's here know damn well your position. Taking a big breath, you suddenly sprint every stairs, each one creaking in the process, not talking about the sound of your feet heavily hitting the wood. Stopping wasn't an option anymore, not being deterred, your legs finally bring you to your room where you lock yourself in, shutting the door with every locks available.
You sigh, falling to the ground and grabbing your shirt where your heart is. Your head is buzzing, your ears are ringing and your body screaming for help, everything is too hot for you, you can't think but you know it's not the end, you can't rest now.
So you get up and head as quietly as possible to the different furniture of the room. In your head, your pray that the intruder can't tell in which room you went. It's not long before you find the keys, your mum placed them beside your bag. And now ? It was a real trial having to come up here, and now you have to confront it all over again to go down ?
Okay, you're not mentally ready yet, you at least need to protect your back. You grab your phone, now having internet, and lowering the light as much as you can, you go to your socials to text someone.
You can't call the cops by yourself, it could mean talking and you can't allow that right now. However, your different social media won't even load. You're pretty sure a number for deaf people exist, but can't recall what is it. You try to type it on internet, but the page doesn't load as well. Of course, you don't have 4G since you're the one paying your subscription, that thing's expensive. Now, though, you really hate yourself.
To get out of this, you spam your friends phone in order for them to answer to make them call the police for you, the few of them that gave your their phone number at least. While doing so, you notice that Ethan Landry sent you a message a few minutes ago but deleted it. Weird, but he is so no surprise.
You don't stop spamming everyone, friends or family, it doesn't matter. But of course, your mum and the other are busy feasting staring at the show in town.
When you finally get an answer five minutes later (the longest minutes of your entire life), you feel relief flood your body, only for it to disappear when the name displayed was not the one of your friend, but of someone completely different.
Ethan Landry. Again. You retain a snort. Of course, him of all people. He doesn't have any damn social life, it's obvious he'd answer. He's typing, you wait impatiently for his message to be sent, it takes a few others seconds.
"Hey ^^" your screen displays. You want to explode your head on the nearest wall. Who's using those emojis ? "You're spending nice holidays ?" he adds.
What it that opening ? And why him ? Now ? He is not your friend, and isn't he busy ? Working too much for his class to stay the best of the best ? You don't want to talk to him. You're pensive, do you really have a choice in this situation ?
"I see you saw my message but haven't answered, are you ignoring me ?" And as if to light the mood of his already quite pitiful message, he sends you a small "lol".
No wonder he's still a virgin.
He's still online and you can't call anyone, if you talk, they're going to hear you. You don't like him but if he's the only one responding right now, you won't miss this chance. Just as you came to this conclusion, a noise of something falling echo through the house. You almost died on the spot, your heart not designed for this type of scare. Slowly, you hide under the bed, the huge blanket falling from both side of it protecting you from outsider's sight.
"Call copsfor me send them to m yaddress I beg you." you sent him, with a few mistakes as you're shaking, rushed and not watching the screen as you type. When sending him your address though, you watched cautiously the screen, feared he might send the cops somewhere else. To briefly explain him the situation, you sent him one simple word; intruder.
"Oh shit." he says and you never hated him more than right now. Why was this stupid idiot still typing when he should be calling the police ! Doesn't he understand the problem ? You really can't count on him.
He's stupid, you think. You have the keys now, that's all that matter. All is left to do is for you to bolt down to the car and leave. Steadying your breathing, you slide from under the bed, holding tightly the keys in your closed hand. You stand, walking towards the door; no sounds.
With a shaky hand, you grab the handle and open the door. Not getting out instantly, you're careful to check every corner of the hallway before leaving. You know how it is in horror movie, the protagonist often dies right before they can escape. You are not risking it. Your device is vibrating in your pocket, it's probably him again.
Reaching the main stairs, you put your foot in the air, ready to place it on the first step when your breath get stuck in your throat by the vision in front of you.
The main door is closed.
A cold chill run down your spine, raising up each one of your body hair. Why is it closed ? You specifically put your shoes between the door and the wall, preventing it from closing. And in the worst case, if the wind or the force of the heavy door still close, it would slam and alert you. But it didn't. How it is closed ?
You look around the room, not daring move anymore until you finally understand what happened. You're able to see both of your shoes, delicately placed side by side outside, on the freezing terrace. Someone moved them. Someone fucking took your shoes and deliberately put them outside, right in front of the window for you to see. If that's not provocation you have no idea what that is.
Either way, you are not trying to open it. Something is telling you it's completely locked. The wind is growing up by seconds, snowflakes flying everywhere. Fuck, it wasn't snowing earlier, you need to get out of here before you're completely stuck inside. That was your plan before you heard the back door downstairs shut and the dangling of keys, anyways.
Not waiting anymore, you get back to the safety of your room.
You can't calm yourself, you heard keys ! The intruder has keys and is locking you two together ! Shit, shit shit what do you do ? You have to get out of here, quickly before it's too late. If you end up completely locked up, all would be left to do for the intruder is to simply visit the different room until you're dead.
Think, think, how can you escape ? Your eyes end up on the window which you rush to. Opening it, the freezing air outside penetrate the room, slapping you in the face with it's now pouring snow.
You're something like 10 meters/32 inches up from the ground. It does not sound like a good idea to jump from here but do you really have a choice here ? Maybe you can wait a little until the snow reach a good height, so falling in it won't hurt.
No, the negative temperature and extreme weather would cause you to die of hypothermia. You close the window, still keeping the idea somewhere in the corner of your mind. You won't jump now, but if things get too complicated, you are not hesitating.
Maybe you can keep it a tad open, just in case. So you don't have to struggle to open it. You regret not having tried to open the main door earlier, sure the shoes were put away but maybe it wasn't really locked. You thought so but your fear were really what was driving your mind at the moment, you have to try.
There is this old broken glass clock on the wall, you could use it as a weapon. If the intruder comes at you, you explode the glass on their head. You cheer yourself up, stretching your limbs. You can still run if you can't fight.
You can do this, you can do this.
You still didn't encounter anyone after all, maybe you're fine. Standing up, a new found determination filling you, you head to the door. You try to think of a better plan but options are not running to you. It's not like you have a better choice.
You lay your hand on the handle, ready to fight your fears but you stop in your track when light musical notes start invading the silence of the house. You're confused, frowning your brows, you try to think of any reason for it to happen.
There's music coming from downstairs and that's when you know you're done for. Someone's here and is definitely toying with you. By music, it's not even a scary song with lyrics to help you understand what's going to happen to you, or a creepy music deepening the tense atmosphere, oh no. It's Michael Bublé singing his dumb 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas'.
Great, perfect, a festive music for a festive death, right ? Are you going to get killed on rhythm of it, too ? For a moment, you thought about it being a whole joke from one of your cousin, but it would be too elaborated. The best jokes are the shortest, and this one's endless.
Not having anything better to do, you hide once again under the bed and turn on your phone. Ethan sent you a message earlier but you did not look at it. You frown upon seeing it.
"Can I tell you something ? It's a secret tho. I'm a little ashamed of it."
Does he really fucking think it's the perfect moment for him to confide his secret to you ? "Police" you simply send him, wanting to remind him of the goal of this conversation, hoping he'd understand. After all, he did not even confirmed having called anyone.
But he never answers your reminder and instead send you a photo. It's blurry and at first you don't understand what it is until you recognize the house, your aunt's house. The house you're currently in. It's a picture of you from earlier, when you first went outside after discovering the ashes everywhere. You're outside, before the window, checking your phone while hugging yourself to try and protect you from the cold.
"Where are you ? I want to talk to you." he sends right after.
Your blood runs cold, suddenly the painful and awkward position you're in doesn't bother you much anymore. Ethan Landry, took a picture of you here. Ethan Landry is here, right now. What's happening ?
"We need to talk." he insists.
Is that man the one who entered by the chimney ? Is he the intruder ? You're not typing anything and it must stress him as he adds a stupid "Please answer". How did he even know you were here ? Did he follow you ? How ?
"What do you want" you typed, wanting to know why he was here. You were desperate for answer, you never talked to this guy, he never talked to you ! What does he want now ? Is it linked with your friend ? Did she ditch him ? Maybe she did, and he thinks it's your fault.
But against all odd, it's not at all the answer gives you.
"It's about us."
What ? What 'us' ? What is he talking about ? "Us" as in you and him or "us" as in him and the whole group ? Because either way, you have no idea what he wants. And even if you did, you doubt there's a problem big enough that requires him to fucking break into your house.
"I have a gift for you as well." No, it does not sound good at all. You keep spamming your friends, begging them to answer. You're telling them you're hiding under your bed and that they need to call the police right now or you'll end up dead. At one point, you start to write another message to your friend when you receive a notification from Ethan.
"They won't answer." he says. And for a second, you dare think that he may be connected to your phone. But you quickly push that thought aside, only for it to come back as fast when you're typing "Ethan s insde my hhouse" and "Don't do that" is sent to you before you press send.
He's bluffing, you're sure. You send your message anyway, if you die, at least they'll know. However, to confirm your doubts, you write two question marks in the blank space to check if he's able to see them. To your horror, Ethan sends you two question marks as well.
It's just a coincidence. It has to be anyway because that'd mean Ethan knows where you are. Who are you kidding ? He knew from the very start where you were. He's just tormenting you. Testing yet again, you type "what" in the chat space, and of course Landry sends you "What what ?".
That's it, he has access to your phone. Your body is boiling from the inside, nothing makes sense anymore. How did he hack into your phone ? Why and when ? Since when ? You swipe the notification away from the screen and turn your phone off. Laying it beside you, waiting for another person to answer.
He planned everything, controlling your phone, following you, getting you alone and vulnerable.
It's probably time for you to use the window. You have the keys after all. You'll jump. Get to your car or something. Besides, maybe you won't break your ankle. maybe you'll be able to escape, run in the forest and found a shelter somewhere, wait until the weather is good enough to come back and find your family.
Maybe you'll fall, break something and wake up only to realize that it was all a dream, that you're safe and sound. Ethan did nothing, he is still the weirdo from your class, flirting with your friend and you'll spend a beautiful Christmas with your family.
Your body start to move in order to leave your hiding spot, but each one of your muscle stops dead when slow and steady footsteps are heard in the hallway, and seconds later, the door of the room creaks open. And then you remember with horror that Ethan found the keys, and that locking the door won't protect you.
He knows you're here. You try to recall everything you did that could've hurt him, if one day you insulted him, mocked him but nothing. Why, why is he doing this to you ? Tears fill up your eyes, but you have to dry them. If you have to escape, you need to have hundred percent of your vision. Fleeing with blurry eyes will slow you down.
Ethan doesn't budge. You're too scared to change position and see where he is, but he sounds like he is at the end of the end. You probably could've saw his feet if you tried, but you didn't want to.
Your phone stirs, reporting a new notification. You know who that comes from already. Every muscle in you is tensed, refusing to move. But he waits for you to do so. So you turn it on, checking his message.
He sent you another picture, one which absolutely freeze you from head to toe. It's a photo where only a bed is visible, the exact one serving you as hiding spot. What's horrifying however, is that a large knife is displayed on it, along with a printed photo of you two. You recognize this cursed picture, the one your teacher took of you with the model.
He cut out everyone else, only you two are left. It's the only photo you have of him, and it's probably the same for him, the only picture he has of you. You're never beside each other after all.
You don't give a fuck about the photo, he has a knife. You're alone together in a room and he has a knife.
"Are you mad at me ?" he texts but you can't do anything except try to keep your cries quiet. You knew he was weird, but fuck ! Not that weird !
You hear him chuckle, and seconds after the ruffle of his clothes alarms you. What is he doing ? He's moving, but why ? You don't know what he's doing until his hand firmly close around your ankle and pull you out of under the bed, you scream, try to fight back, throw your legs at his face but you can't even see it; he wears a mask.
Not only a mask, in fact, he is completely disguised.
Window is all you can think. You have to jump out of the window. Never slackening your attacks, you finally inflict him pain, his mask twisting on the side in the process. He falls on his back, holding his, likely, jaw.
You are not waiting for him to get over it as you jump on the bed, slide and grab the open window. You pull it wider and leap head first. You did not think this through, only acting out of pure survival. But at the same time, maybe you would've done the same thing, choosing between breaking your legs or arms, in this situation, you'd chose to break your arms.
But Ethan is as determined as you, before your body can completely fall, he grabs both of your tibias with strong hands. Blood is already falling to your head, you feel it heat up despite the freezing atmosphere.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing ?" yell the man holding you.
Hanging upside down, only held by the legs by a crazy man clearly wasn't part of your Christmas plan. You wiggle your body, trying to make him let go or at least slip out of his grip but you never saw someone as mad as Ethan. You lay your hands flat on the outside wall before you, outstretching your arms to grab something allowing you to fall, to pull yourself down but it's no use.
You already feel yourself being lift up. Slowly, Ethan's hand pull you up, leaving your ankles to grab just below your knees. One of your foot hit his face but he never relents. You yell in the wind for the world to hear, you struggle, fight but Ethan's something else. Ethan won't let you go.
The more he pulls you up, the more his hand grabs of you. While your feet are back inside, your hands never let go of the window border, refusing categorically to let him engulf you inside. You don't stop yelling at him to let you go but you quiet down a second when two other person enter your vision, both in the same disguise as Ethan.
They're outside, braving the harsh snow, just below the window. Exactly where you would have fallen if Landry didn't grabbed you. The smaller of them has a sign in hand, and when you read what's on it, you think you should have jumped and killed yourself.
"Merry Christmas, in-law.
Welcome to the family"
More Posts from Vitzi9 and Others
Coffee Freezer // Brian x Reader
(This isn’t proof-read so please bear with me I’m heavily sleep deprived)
Notes: Female reader, slightly ooc (maybe? I don’t really know)
——
“Jesus,” you sighed running your hand through your hair walking into the harsh lighting of Mickey’s. It was 9 pm and you found yourself wandering down sidewalk after sidewalk until you ended up here, an empty Mickey’s save for the employees and an old man sitting in the corner picking at his leftover fries.
Your shoes made clicking sounds against the floor as you walked up to the register to be met with an empty counter except for two guys behind the window. You glanced up at the menu before just settling on a coffee freezer, deciding that you should just get a small treat since you couldn’t stomach a whole meal. Still staring at the menu you hear whispers start from behind the till.
“Holy shit dude look”
“What”
“Hottie 5 ‘o clock at the register”
“Shit where’s Amber?”
“On ‘er break, go take her order man”
“Why me?”
“‘Cause I said so, now go”
Chucking to yourself you hear shifting from the window and a tall angsty looking teen shuffles to the front, obviously annoyed and tired. You couldn’t blame him, customer service jobs sucked.
Brian had seen you before around school even though you had just transferred. You were new, a fresh face wasn’t something seen around often so you stood out to him,and others, more than usual.
He had thought you were insanely hot ever since you waked past him during the break between first and second period. During that next history class you had introduced yourself at the front of the room stating that your family had just moved to the area and something else he didn’t catch. He was busy observing how your jeans hugged your hips and how your shirt was tight around your chest. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t practically drooling onto is desk.
And now here you were, standing right in front of him in a tight low cut long sleeve that definitely complimented your figure.
“Hey your in Mr Bruce’s history class right,” your voice got his attention, you met his gaze with a warm smile.
“Yeah, uh Y/n right?” He cleared his throat before speaking.
“Yeah I’m surprised you remembered,” you laughed “Could I just get a Coffee Freezer?”
“sure…” He trailed, typing your order into the computer “that’ll be a dollar”
You reached into your back pocket and pulled out a semi crinkled bill, handing it to the boy in front of you. “Thanks…” taking a moment to glance at his name tag just realizing you ever formerly introduced yourself to him directly. “Brian”
“Yeah don’t mention it” He said and walked back to behind the window feeling like his chest was going to explode.
“Holy shit dude you know her?!” Said Andrew after watching the whole ordeal from behind the order windo
“Not like personally” Brian mumbled, going to start on your coffee freezer
——
Amber came back to the register to see you sitting at the bar the had right across from it staring at the window.
“Y/n?” She said trying to get your attention “What are you doing here so late?”
Snapping you out of your thoughts you got up and made your way back to the counter. “Oh shit, hey Amber” you smiled, Amber showed you around the school on your first day. You guys exchanged numbers and have been texting on and off over the week.
“I went on a walk and wound up here and ordered a coffee freezer”
“Cool” she smiled, clearly tired and ready to go home. It being 9:35 meant that her and Andrew’s shift ended in a little under 30 minutes meaning that Brian would be left to lock up.
“Hey I’m gonna head to the back to grab my stuff, stay here” She said and quickly shuffled to the back.
In perfect timing Brian came out with your drink, “One Freezer”
He said placing it on the counter about to walk away when your topped him. “Hey, when does this place close?”
“10 but since no one’s in here except you I might close up early”
Brian answered, slightly confused at your question. Just then Andrew and Amber came out holding their things.
“We’re gonna head out Bri, make me proud okay” Andrew said smirking while heading for the door.
“Yeah Yeah, shut the fuck up man” Brian retorted
“Okay Brian I’m out, Bye Y/n,” Said Amber following Andrew stopping in the doorway of the restaurant before leaving turning to you, “Oh Y/n if you need help with the English homework just shoot me a text okay?”
“Alright!” You called out as she left before picking up your freezer and taking a sip. Brian watched as you did, your moisturized lips wrapping around the straw while your hand waved goodbye.
Suddenly he felt hot, his hands feeling clammy. He swallowed in an effort to calm himself down before he made himself look like a dumbass in front a hot girl. Suddenly, you turned towards him catching him staring making you smile when he looked away.
Clearing his throat to brake the silence Brian quickly spoke up, “I’m uh gonna close up now, you don’t have to leave until I’m done”
——
A text from your mom made your phone buzz in your pocket, ‘You alright?’
‘I’m okay’
‘On my way home now’
You quickly shot back, you had forgotten how late it was, surprisingly enjoying the ambience of the empty Mickey’s. The sound of boots and the odd jangle of a chain making you look up from your phone. Brian had taken his uniform off and was now clad in a black sweat shirt and his usual black jeans and combat boots, silver chain hanging from his belt loop.
“You ready?” You piped from your seat, standing up and shoving your phone into your back pocket.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Brian said walking towards the door with you close behind, “Thanks for uh, staying with me by the way”
“Of course,” you said smiling up at him as you two walked out onto the sidewalk, “Are you driving or walking home?”
“My car’s in the shop right now ‘cause of some stupid shit with my engine so I’m walking. How ‘bout you?” He asked running his hand through his hair, hoping it was just the cold air making his cheeks flush.
“I’m walking too, which way are you going?”
“Jaker Avenue”
“Oh sweet, I’m heading the same way”
You two walked in silence until you saw a flyer for an underground band that was going to play at a local venue on Friday , “Oh shit I didn’t know they were from here” You exclaimed taking the flyer down from the telephone pole it was taped to.
“You listen to them?” Brian questioned
“Hell yeah I do, I pirate their shit off the internet all the time” you laughed, your joke finally tearing away the tension and causing Brian to laugh with you.
That flyer caused the walk to let you guys take time to know each other, talking about music, video games, work drama and whatever came to mind.
“I’m telling you, my manager probably keeps 4-5 grand in that safe man” Brian exclaimed as you guys neared your house,
“Well if you ever need a getaway driver let me know” You joked, the two of you stopping at the front of your house
“This your stop?” He voiced, gesturing at your house
“Yeah this is me, thanks for walking me home” You smiled, turning around to head in before he stopped you, grabbing you arm. You turned around surprised at the sudden contact.
Brian instantly let go, his ears starting to burn. Why did he grab you.
“Hey you know the show on Friday,” you nodded, “would you wanna go with me?” He asked, avoiding your gaze as he waited for your response.
“Yeah of course!” You grinned, elated. “Here take my number, so we can talk about it later” You out stretched your hand for Brian to give you his phone so you could tap your number in.
“Yeah, right sure” He said handing his phone to you, his sweaty hands almost making him drop it.
You opened it to see a text from someone named Andrew
‘U BANG HER YET?’
Free Palestine.
hawks: remember when i said i wanted to grow up to be like you cuz you beat the living shit out of my piece of shit dad
endeavor: yes
hawks: well guess who's a grown man now!
endeavor: er congratula-
hawks: and guess who i heard deserves to get the living shit beaten out of them for being a piece of shit dad too!
endeavor: idk who
hawks: (:
endeavor:
endeavor:
endeavor: i don't like where this is going
I love the idea of Eddie having an especially grueling day at work his friend (they have mutual feelings but nothing has been said) offers to give him a massage. Eddie is genuinely grateful but also vv flustered by the end!!
listen. LISTEN. i know this got out of hand. i know i said these were going to stay short n sweet. i know what i said and promised. but. listen. you can't hand me a prompt that is just so delicious, with so much potential to sprinkle in a light dusting of angst, and to give me the chance to garnish with a beautiful open ending full of promise, and not expect a monster of a product to come from it. you just can't. i'm sorry. i hope you enjoy this, regardless. even if it's not quite bite-sized.
warnings: seemingly unrequited love that turns into clearly idiots in love. eddie gets shirtless. that's all.
wc: 4.4k+ yikes
It had started off as an innocent, well-intentioned offer. You swear it did.
When Eddie had called you right after pulling a double at the garage, begging to come over and simply relax at your apartment, you’d set up to allow him to do just that. You’d cleaned up a little bit, lit a candle that normally gave you a headache if it burned too long but that Eddie loved, prepped a selection of movies for him to choose from, pulled out the menu for your favorite take-out – you’d gone the whole nine yards for your best friend.
Someone might even point out it wasn’t just best friend behavior at this point. Steve and Robin alike had certainly called out your behavior at times, coining it as “girlfriend behavior on a best friend salary”.
You didn’t care. You were well aware of what you were doing, and you didn’t care.
You’d spend the rest of your life on the best friend salary, as the two dinguses had so lovingly called it, for the look of sheer peace on Eddie’s face right now.
He’s leaning back on the opposite end of your couch from you, knees spread and chin facing the ceiling as he sighs in bliss. Take-out containers are scattered about the coffee table, and his movie of choice of Return of the Jedi is about halfway over on your TV.
You both had already chosen a second movie – The Lost Boys. The plans for the night were set in stone.
You tuck both knees up beneath your chin, side-glancing your best friend for a second and ignoring the flutter of your chest as you watch him sink deeper into the cushions, “We can talk about it, y’know.”
“Hm?”
“Your day,” you adjust a bit, turning your body to face him fully, “If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. We’ve already seen enough Jabba the Hutt to last a lifetime.”
That earns a smile from him, slowly crackling over his cheeks as he rolls his head towards you, “I dunno. Is there such thing as enough Jabba the Hutt?”
You toss a piece of your sour watermelon candy at him, and despite it landing on his shirt, he still grabs it to pop it into his mouth.
You try not to think too hard about how that shirt had been sitting in your drawers, clean and neatly folded, occupying space as if that might be normal. As if everyone has some of their best friend’s clothes at their apartment that they can change into after a long day at work.
As if everyone has occasionally used said shirt as pajamas on nights they particularly miss the scent of their best friend’s cologne.
“Shut up,” you finally snicker, dropping your knees from your chin, sitting criss-cross now, “We don’t have to talk about your day if you don’t feel like it. By all means, if you wanna keep drooling over an alien slug, be my guest-”
At your teasing, Eddie moves quickly to grab one of your ankles, pulling your feet towards his lap before you can register what he’s doing. You gasp a little, and it’s definitely not because of the feeling of his warm palms wrapped around your bare skin. Totally not at the rush of warmth that travels up your body, head to toe, when you feel his rings pressing into you so eagerly.
Absolutely not. You gasp, because anybody would gasp in this scenario. Because you’re just best friends. And best friends do stuff like that.
“I am not drooling over a slug,” he chastises, grinning recklessly as he wiggles his fingers menacingly, mere inches from the bottom of your foot, “Take it back, or pay the price, baby.”
Has he ever called you baby before?
Certainly not, if your roaring heart has anything to say about it.
“Don’t you dare,” you squeal – genuinely squeal – as you try and tug your legs out of his grasp. It’s a useless effort; he’s too strong, even after his long day, and your body isn’t even sure if it approves of taking his hands off of you. “Edward Munson, I swear to God-”
It’s a mess of flailing limbs, painful laughter, and high-pitched screams from there. Squeaks from your own mouth, and a few from Eddie, mocking you all in good fun as he continues to persist for you to take it back. For just a moment, it feels like this is the normal – you’re living in a space where Eddie comes home from every day, grueling or effortless, to you. Where the two of you always end up on the couch together, bodies touching in any way they can. Where there’s always background noise on the TV as his focus is solely on you, smiling foolishly at his antics that were really just a simple effort to hear your laughter. Where your laughter is the only thing he really wants to hear at the end of the night, and it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard.
A world where he tells you as much.
A world where after this, he’s reaching the knob of your shared bedroom door rather than the front door of your lonesome apartment.
A world where you aren’t existing on a best friend salary.
“Had enough yet, sweetheart?” he quips, just as breathless as you are from the struggle. This time, the nickname he uses is normal. It took you off guard during the first few months of friendship, but now? Your weary heart could handle it, cherish it even, and not let your stupid little crush get in the way of appreciating it. “All you have to say are the magic words.”
“Are the magic words, you’re a dickhead?”
“Hm,” he pretends to ponder thoughtfully for just a second before shaking his hand, “‘Fraid not. Try again?”
Instead of verbally replying, you give him a gentle kick in the stomach. Not the magic words he had in mind, but they sure do the trick.
He lets out a soft oomph, one arm cradling his midsection as though you actually hurt him. You take it as your cue to remove your legs – his dramatics quickly come to a halt to prevent just that.
It’s probably meant to be subtle, the way both his arms fall down over your calves and keep your feet in his lap, but it has the capability to implode your entire world.
“I can’t believe you’re being mean to me after the day I’ve had,” he whines, and all you can focus on is the way his thumb is rhythmically stroking the ball of your ankle now, “Me, your best friend, has had the most awful day and you-”
“Now you wanna talk about it?” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes at him.
“Absolutely.”
“After you’ve just tortured me?”
“Well, yeah. When else would I talk about it?”
“I’m rescinding my offer to listen,” you continue to joke, making one more good faith offer to slip your legs from his lap. And, once more, he won’t allow it.
He whines out a long, drawn out no, starting to lay his entire body across your legs this time. More direct, more to the point. Subtleties have been forgotten, you suppose.
You don’t know if it’s more for you, or for him. You just know you like it. You like existing within a sneak preview of a girlfriend salary.
“You never answered me, drama queen,” you murmur as the joking lean across your legs becomes a bit more heavy, and Eddie is more genuinely collapsing his figure into your lap. He doesn’t even have to ask, or gesture – your fingers find home within his hair, and you can feel his hum of content against your thigh as you scratch along his scalp, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
All joking pretenses slip away from him as he mumbles out a muffled, “Not really.”
And you can work with that. You swear, you can.
If you’d been so ready to lend a listening ear, then you can offer him this peace and quiet. A simple head massage as he leans into you, cheeks pressed to the top of your thigh as you think he returns to watching Return of the Jedi.
His eyes might be closed, if his heavy breaths are anything to go off of. You’re just not sure.
You just keep up your massage, sluggish strokes, clement scratches, deep breaths to match his own-
And then, an idea hits you.
“Eds,” you whisper, your hand in his hair traveling to his shoulders, shaking him a bit, “Eddie.”
Only a grunt in response.
“Eddie, seriously, get up,” you stress, overeager, “I have an idea.”
“The apartment better be on fire,” he grumbles as he finally raises his head, face imprinted with the lines of your shorts in rolling hills of soft indents.
Definitely was sleeping. Definitely wasn’t watching Star Wars.
But even with his shoulders wrapped with dreary slumber, you’re still excited about your idea, motioning him to sit up fully. You let him take his time, of course, only after he swats your hands away sluggishly a few times.
Once his back is straight, you lift one finger in the air, and draw a circle – motioning for him to turn his back to you without saying a word.
His eyes narrow to slits at you, “Are you about to pull a prank on me? Because-”
“I’m not,” you assure him, reaching for his shoulders, nearly turning him yourself, “Scout’s honor.”
He listens to you. Despite it all, despite his seeming mistrust, he turns his back to you. More specifically, he turns his shoulders to you.
He’s still mumbling on about how you better not make his day worse, getting a little bit snappier when you gather his hair up to lay out of your way and claiming his scalp was extra sensitive today.
You pay his attitude no mind. He’s just grumpy. It doesn’t particularly phase you after years of close friendship.
“Listen, I know you like braiding my hair, but-” he continues with his protests as you grin behind him, shaking your head as you settle yourself closer to him. Knees bumping his hips, back straight for the time being. “I’d rather just nap right now. And I was really comfy, and really getting my rocks off to that damn alien slug-”
All his words cut off when you finally put your plan into action. Your palms fall atop his shoulders, fingers curling around the tense skin, and he’s melting before you’ve even begun.
“I- Oh,” he jumps a little at the first squeeze, but quickly returns to being pliant in your hold, “Oh… That’s…. That’s nice.”
You continue your massage, gently squeezing, thumbs and fingers digging into any knots you find to work them away as you jeer, “Is it now?”
He nods, the smallest of movements as to not interrupt your work, “It is. ‘S real nice.”
His head rolls with each pinch of your fingers, posture loosening as he leans back into your touch further.
You take it a step further, biting back nerves when you slip your hands beneath the collar of his old t-shirt. You feel the shiver begin before it races down his spine at the press of your skin directly on his now.
Your warm hands work dutifully, determined to bring as much relaxation to your best friend as possible. Definitely not enjoying yourself a bit too much at his smooth skin under your palms. Definitely not enjoying yourself just as much as he is. Certainly not.
The shirt constricts you, though. Prevents your hands from traveling fully over sore spots you can feel the edges of. Catching your wrists, limiting the full potential of your movements.
You’re glad he can’t see you as you suddenly request, “Take your shirt off.”
“Hm?” he can’t form a proper word at first, not startled but simply sunken too deep in his relaxation, “What was that?”
“I need your shirt off, Munson.”
You try to sound brave, nonchalant, as you repeat yourself. You don’t want him to hear the fluttering of your heart – you don’t want him to hear the shake of your hands as you remove them from him.
You only want him to hear the totally reasonable request from a friend, who is simply trying to offer the best massage possible to their best friend who’s had a bad day.
“Oh?” he looks over his shoulder, and you can see the edges of his raised brows through messy bangs, “Damn, sweetheart. If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask.”
Can ribs break from a heart beating too fast? Is that even possible?
“I did ask,” your voice is flat as a trade off to avoid any quivering to filtrate it, lips pressing tightly together as you swallow your heart, “So get to it.”
He leans forward, putting a bit of distance between you two before he reaches back to grab the center of his shirt. The fabric comes off with a flourish, and all you’re left face to face with is the bare expanse of his back.
You silently beg him not to look back over his shoulder, if only for just a second.
You’ve seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times. At pool parties with the entire group, on rare lake days that always ended sun drunk and giddy, that one time he’d answered his door right after a quick shower and you’d seen a lot more than you’d bargained for. He was your friend. After a while, it would have been weirder to not have seen Eddie shirtless at least once.
Something about this time feels different.
He has freckles – not nearly as much as Steve or Robin, but they still exist. Small markings across skin glowing warmly in the dim light of your living room lamp, spattered without rhyme or reason. One on the back of his left shoulder, another slightly off-centered at the base of his neck. He has a light scar towards the bottom of his right shoulder blade – a memory from his childhood he told you once when you’d first seen it at the lake. Everyone else was out splashing about the ten-degrees-too-cool water, and he’d joined your side on the shore. Laid on his stomach as you laid on your back, offering you conversation in the form of stories about every blemish across his skin. The intentional tattoos, the unintentional scars. Everything.
Even that day doesn’t quite compare to the intimacy of him being here now, being shirtless in your apartment, just the two of you.
Maybe there was something extra in your coffee this morning, making you feel so delusional.
“I don’t have any lotion or oils,” you finally clear your throat, trying to joke about as the two of you had been before, “But that doesn’t matter. You ready for the best damn massage of your life, Munson?”
“Yes, please,” he groans, and something deep in your stomach clenches at the sound, “Want me to lay down or something?”
Your brain short-circuits for a second, because you know where that leads.
If he lays down, there’s only one way to continue to comfortably give him the massage. If he lays down, you’re about to bite off more than you could chew on a best friend salary.
“Sure,” you choke out, damning yourself in the process.
It’s all robotic mechanics as you two shift to assume the position; you stand up, and he sprawls out. And you swear, in the process, you catch a smothering of pink slow creeping across his chest and neck.
“Can I…” you start to question, finally growing a bit shy as you stare down at the dip of his lower back. Two dimples on either side of his spine, looking so inviting and yet daunting.
He finishes the sentence for you, saving you the embarrassment, “Sit on me? Yeah, go for it, babe.”
There it is again. An unfamiliar nickname that falls so effortlessly off the lips for him. Another pet name to send you into a tailspin as your breath catches and your heart races, as though needing to catch up after the fleeting endearment.
“Thanks,” you whisper out.
You’re starting to regret all your choices, but it’s too late to back down now. You just want to help him relax – that’s all this is.
Stop making this more than it is.
You’re exceptionally careful as you crawl over Eddie, placing a knee on either side of him, hovering for just a second as you take deep breaths to hype yourself up to do the inevitable.
He twists a bit, startling you enough for you to balance yourself with a palm on each shoulder blade, “C’mon now, you’re not going to crush me. You should know this by now,” his eyes glitter, and you know he’s referring to that time you two made a bet he couldn’t carry you bridal style while drunk. He could, “Sit your pretty ass down and get to work, Masseuse.”
You weren’t imagining the pink across his chest and neck. It’s climbed up now, tendrils tickling his cheeks. The bridge of his nose nearly looks sunburnt from this angle.
It’s a good look on him.
“Masseuse?” you snort as you shove him to be fully laying down once more, needing to get his eyes off of you for just a second, “That’s an awfully big word. You been reading without me or something? Becoming a secret genius?”
Fall back into the normal flow of things. Try not to think about the heat of him between your legs as you sit half your weight down.
“That is not a big word,” he chides.
“Spell it, then.”
“I-” he cuts off as your hands smooth back over his skin, no more restrictions.
He never finishes his sentence, never complies with your request. All that falls from his lips are soft sighs as you begin the massage again.
There’s an occasional twitch below his muscles as you knead away, slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with it all. Becoming more mesmerized as you can now see his skin moving with you, occasionally letting up when you skirt past freckles and scars alike, fingertips merely tracing them as he shivers under your delicate touch.
You do exactly as you set out to do – you relax him. And then some.
You’ve never really gotten into the art of massages, something about it always feeling a bit too intimate. You’d never consider yourself a professional at it by any means – if anything, you’ve been on the receiving end rather than the giving end more often than not. And even those occurrences were rare.
But when it came to Eddie, it seemingly came naturally.
Not all of your movements are conventional. You pass back and forth between the usual squeezes of skin you’ve witnessed on TV and from others, and gentle tracing of your fingertips. Drawing shapes, painting pictures that vanish without ever having existed in the first place. Words, sentences, secret messages for just you two.
When you trace out the endearment of idiot, Eddie seems to catch on, lazy grin peeking up past his curtain of hair covering the cheek almost facing you.
In another place, where you make that coveted girlfriend salary, you’d trace out three little words on the tip of your tongue.
You almost do it, too. It’s when you trace out idiot, in fact. You start, entirely subconsciously, with the i. A long pause, a space between words.
And then you trace an l. One long line down the center of his spine.
Your finger is already rotating for the o, ready to trace it in the center as the other two letters had been, a signalling it wasn’t a part of that last simple line.
And then you divert. And you rush to finish out with the i, the o, the t. He laughs a little, the rush of air felt below you as he lets it out soundlessly, and you catch sight of his smile.
A seeming endearment to Eddie, a hidden scolding for yourself.
Maybe one day you can find the nerve to properly trace it out – or better yet, say it. Speak your truth outloud and handle whatever consequences come from it. Because you do – you really, really do mean it – and those feelings for Eddie can’t seem to change. Something carved into your very soul, unchanging as the years pass. If anything, the carving only digs deeper into you with each month you spend with him.
One day. But not today, not when Eddie’s had a bad day. It should be a good day when you say it, lessening the blow of rejection, hopefully.
You almost lose your balance a few times. Each time having to adjust your position of sitting on him, shifting his hips right along with yours. And each time, you notice the catch in his sighs. The way they almost transform into moans, tense noises that seemingly tear from his throat, only dampened by poor attempts to conceal them. Even the back of his neck has grown flushed now, the tips of his ears vibrant when you see them poke through his hair.
Sometimes, you lose your balance from his shifting, even.
The air is sticky with tension as you finally finish up. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour – you weren’t keeping score, more focused on continuing on until Eddie’s entire body has gone boneless beneath you.
Pretty, and pink, and pliant. Entirely slackened beneath your touches.
It takes more to encourage yourself to climb off of him than it did to climb on originally. Your body protests entirely, knees not caring for the ache forming, inner thighs happy to be bracketing his hips. But you do it. Because you’re just a friend, a best friend, helping your friend relax.
You stand, towering over him, looking down to find him hiding his face just a bit. “Well?”
“Well, what?” his voice is entirely muffled by his mouthful of couch cushion, and you furrow your brows.
“How was it?”
He lifts his face strategically. He probably hopes you don’t notice, but you do, “Oh! Oh, it was, uh- It was fucking great, sweetheart. I… I swear, your hands are fucking magic.”
Why is he tripping over his words like that?
He can’t even look you in the eyes, line of sight darting anywhere but you.
Why is he flushed, head to toe?
“Yeah?” you cross your arms, and subtly lean to block the TV now displaying credits that Eddie found terribly interesting, “Would you consider it the best massage you’ve ever had?”
He nods, and you catch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before squeaking out, “Oh, yeah! The absolute best I’ve ever had,” his eyes widen at his words, as if he’s made a terrible choice that you’re unaware of, “I mean, you know, I just- you should really consider becoming an actual masseuse.”
That’s when it hits you; Eddie is absolutely refusing to sit up. To remove his hips from your couch.
He’s blushing, and he’s stuttering, and he’s definitely hiding something.
There’s a twist in your gut that you can’t reveal. A satisfaction you know better than to celebrate right now.
Instead, you decide to play with him just a little bit more.
“Good,” you nod, stepping towards the end of the couch you’d originally occupied. Where Eddie’s knees are stiff against. “Maybe I will consider a career change. But for now – move, Munson. I’m just exhausted.”
“What?” he looks at you, frightened, only moving his neck to keep his hips flush and hidden away.
“Get your legs out of my seat,” you laugh a little, leveling him with a daring stare.
You know what he’s hiding. You’re a bit proud of it, too.
“Oh, yeah,” he says slowly, and you can see him going over his options in his head. A million excuses he’s probably conjuring, a hundred different escape plans he’s grasping at. “Yeah, of course.”
And, just as you’d suspected, he doesn’t go with a single one to save his dignity.
He moves quickly. Tucking his legs up and twisting himself into an upright position in the blink of an eye, and immediately grabbing one of your throw pillows that two of you had tossed off into the floor amidst the original movie night plans.
He’s fast, you’ll give him that. But not fast enough for you to not catch sight of the tent in his pants.
You don’t let your eyes linger too long. Swallow down any drooling threatening to begin. Tamper down any desire flaring in your chest and between your hips.
Best friend salary, you remind yourself even as you grin a tad bit too salaciously for your current cover. Best friend salary, not girlfriend salary.
You plop down on the seat still warm from Eddie’s legs, sinking back in self-satisfaction. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it doesn’t have to be another time, or place, or Universe to get what you want. Maybe all your delusion, that wild imagination of yours, wasn’t so misplaced after all.
Best friend salary, your mind whispers. For now.
Eddie makes himself comfortable right along with you, still seeming in a much better condition than when he’d first arrived, even if his cheeks had bloomed into a rose garden. He presses that throw pillow of yours protectively over his crotch, and once more focuses on the screen in front of you two.
“Say, Eddie,” you drawl, almost radiant with your grin. A fire now lit inside both of you. “Think you could be a doll and pop in the next movie for me?”
It’s a little evil, you’ll admit. But he kind of deserves it for underpaying you over the years, when it’s so clear you’re due for a promotion. Sometime soon, you hope.
Both your heads turn to each other at the same time, wildly different speeds. Eddie’s neck snaps in disbelief, while you take your time to make eye contact.
All it takes is one knowing look exchanged, and the illusion fumbles on its stilts.
“I…” his embarrassment, all that flush, slowly morphs as he catches the truth behind your intentions. The hand pressing down on the throw pillow alleviates just a bit, stiff shoulders relaxing as they should have been after your massage as he reflects back just as evil of a glint in his eyes as you had, “Sure thing, baby.”
It’s probably going to be a long night. Surely, the promotion of best friend to girlfriend is going to involve some paperwork. Or an interview, to prove your capability and experience first hand, of course.
But, well, he never did put his shirt back on, did he?
The thing about FFXV is that I just can't say no to Prompto. You want to stop for a pic right after we started driving? Sure thing buddy. You want me to look at a random ice cream thing? Of course! You want to go see the Chocobos for the millionth time? Kweh kweh motherfucker I would do anything for you
I'll be patient, just for you.
Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Prequel of Patience is the key to sucess.
TW/CW: breaking in, voyeurism, ghostface
I feel like this is weird? Or cliché ? I can't tell but I don't really like it. (8/07/2023) (1678)
Ethan has always been a lonely man. Even in his own family, he wasn't loved. His father was talking about his lost son every hour of the damn day, his sister was too. Both of them had spent years trying to find the perfect revenge plan. It was the only thing in their mind. Their plan still wasn't finished yet and for the moment all he had to do was befriending some dumbs students for him to get closer to.
It was a long and boring process. Playing the embarrassed nerd every second, faking being insecure and everything. It was boring. Deadly so.
But it wasn't that much of a waste of time since it's then and there that he discovered his passion; killing and frightening people. In pair with lying. He always think: how many times can I lie to someone before they see it ? How big can my lie be and still pass ? It was his hobby now. The adrenaline he felt while taking the life of someone was exhilarating. He was Ghostface, now. It was beautiful !
So he joined a college and started to blend in. To others, he was the shy dorky nerd without friends, too stupid to hurt a fly. And it was perfect. Ethan was smart, incredibly so. And he was competitive. He was a genius and no one could challenge him, he was the first of every one of his classes. And if someone dared surpass him, he would get angry, really angry.
And no one was suspecting him, too ! Chad just wanted for him to get into a relationship, Tara, Anika and Sam weren't paying too much attention to him, sure Mindy found him weird but that was all.
His cover was perfect.
One day, paying attention to the lesson. He doesn't notice how his pen fell on the ground. Nor when you grabbed it for him. He felt someone tap on his shoulder. Turning his head, he's face to face with you.
You were plain, somewhat of a background character. You didnt't look like you'd be fun to play with, like you'd just cry if he'd chase after you. So he didn't really paid attention to you. Staying in his role, he smiles and thanks you. You smile back.
He didn't even know your name, in fact, he didn't know the name of the majority of people in the class. There were too much persons in this big room. He never noticed you, until now. Why were you seated beside him ? And when did you sit here ? One quick look at the room gave him the answer; there wasn't enough sits.
Chad nudges his side, Ethan moans from the pain. His roomate gives him a pointed look, smiling slyly. Ethan just shrugs. He was terribly annoying, not even funny. If he had any choice in the revenge plan of his father, this dumb guy would be his first victim. Seriously, his name is Chad ? What the hell ?
Ethan glances back at you briefly when he sees a pins on your pencil case; on it, the head of the puppet from the movies Saw. He was intrigued. He liked horror movie as well, and challenge even more. Saw could be really trash for some people, with physical and psychological horror. At first, it was just a game for him really.
He wanted to see how much time he needed to scare you off.
How much time he needed to make you cry, shake and beg for your life. He wanted to speedrun ruining you.
For that, he needed some material. Ethan was a theater kid at heart. He liked to make things dramatics. He grabbed a rope and a black spraypaint. That's all he needed for now. He went to the cash register and gave his 5 dollars note. The cashier told him thirty cents were missing. He was going to bargain, even going to break his character if he needed to, but someone was quicker.
One coin of twenty and one of ten had been put on the counter next to his hand. Surprised, he follows the arm that laid it until he sees the owner of it. You. You smiled at him politly. You, who was the reason he was buying this in the first place. You were nothing like the you from school. You were even pretty. He couldn't even proceed the information but he just stuttered something, a thanks maybe, he can't even remember. But he left with his articles, head low and cheeks red.
Two days later, (the time he needed for him to understand the reaction he had at the store), he was ready. He would follow you at school, for the sole reason he wanted to scare you, of course. He'd write threats to the sit you usually sit on. But you always brush them off, thinking it was just some aweful joke from another student. Even if he wrote your name on it, you wouldn't budge.
He hang up a doll to the ceiling once, to get a reaction out of you. Didn't work either. He tried a lot more things before he realized he had stepped down the creepyness. His creepy jokes were similar to one a kid do. The more he wanted to scare you, the less he was doing. But he was doing it on purpose.
He knew he was doing it on purpose, the pictures of you on his phone were giving him away. Pictures of you in your room, changing clothes, sleeping, walking. Everything. But everyone do that, right ?Every man his age had a crush, after all. But Ethan never had one. He didn't have a normal life after all, nor a normal family. So it's not surprising.
Is that what men feel ? Surely, yes. He couldn't, and wouldnt anyway, ask his dad on the matter. He soon realized it wasn't normal to obsess over someone this way. But at this point it was too late. He killed people, he could deepen in the uncontroversially. A Polaroid of you talking to you friend was well hidden in his nightstand. Your friend's face was crossed out.
This picture was his favourite because he got to be so so close to you that day he thought that wasn't real. You weren't even smiling on the picture, your friend was probably telling you sad things but he didn't care. He spent countless night staring at this picture.
He craved something else. He didn't know what exactly but the more he was looking at you, the prettier you were becoming. And you were nice to him too. Well, the two only times both of you talked, you were incredibly nice to him. And he discovered you had similar center of interest ! You had scary books in your room, you listened to artists he liked, or learnt to like, and like him you hadn't a lot of friends !
But there was that thing, you weren't scared. But on another side, Ethan is not sure he wants to see you just scared now. He wasn't satisfied anymore.
No, his need was stronger now. He wanted to scare you, but mostly detroy you. It was something really simple in his mind. Something quick to understand but hard to plan. Human is gregarious. Human needs to be in a group or in a pair, it's a fact. But what if an human is left alone ? Then, he'll seek refuge with someone else. Even if it's not truthful. Even if it's a fake relation, because human need compagny. It give them a sense of safety.
And that now, was more terryfing that any stupid movie. Because Ethan was controlling everything in this plan. Because he get to see you scared shitless, to see you cry and beg for you life, he get to destroy you and you'll still come back for him for comfort.
In this plan, Ethan was winning on every fronts. He had everything and you nothing.
Though, he had to control himself at some point. He couldn't act too quickly. It wasn't something you can do in a blinking of an eye. Plus, you still exerted a force on him.
That he wants it or not.
That persona he was sick of playing with his so called friends, weirdly enough, he was really getting into it when you were around. When you looked at him, even for a brief second, he was the embarrassed nerd. When you looked at someone else, he was insecure.
But he'd overcome that, eventually.
Often, you'd come to your friend's apartment and he would love these moments ! Because he could hide in the bathroom and listen to your conversation. At first, his audacity had him doubt about his plan. But your friend was so so stupid ! Since he already locked himself in the bathroom multiple times before, she was used to it by now. Just thinking that it was stuck sometimes and she wouldn't insist. Ethan was free to do what he wanted.
After that, he decided he needed more. He knew your bedroom window was giving to a little street below. And it became a habit for him to go there every night. You couldn't see him, less hear him. But he was talking to you, every time. Most of the time, he was seated on the ground, head glued to your room.
'You're so pretty' he'd whisper after a long day. 'Good night lovely' he'd say when you turn off the light. And once deep asleep, he'd enter your apartment. He already duplicated your keys; his most prized posession. He would just stare at your sleeping form. Sometimes, he'd watch the TV without sound on your couch. Wanting to create a domestic feeling in him.
But each time, once the night is over, you'd see each other at school and you would act as if you don't know him.
And he really, really hated you for it.
-
fallenhanahaki liked this · 1 month ago -
andwhatchugondo liked this · 4 months ago -
automatic-princess liked this · 4 months ago -
elviramoon66 liked this · 5 months ago -
enchantingpirate liked this · 8 months ago -
authoryand liked this · 10 months ago -
danganronpa-lover12 liked this · 11 months ago
-
astral---222 liked this · 11 months ago -
gimli-son-of-gloin liked this · 11 months ago -
pyrrhic420 liked this · 1 year ago -
gal40n0k liked this · 1 year ago -
dalekduchess liked this · 1 year ago -
holyglitterllama liked this · 1 year ago -
orangecrush969 liked this · 1 year ago -
born-slayer liked this · 1 year ago -
sublimetragedychopshop liked this · 1 year ago -
nanskskwnsns liked this · 1 year ago
-
getmeoutofhell reblogged this · 1 year ago -
vitzi9 reblogged this · 1 year ago -
getmeoutofhell reblogged this · 1 year ago
-
getmeoutofhell reblogged this · 1 year ago
-
gamyyyuwu liked this · 1 year ago
-
iloveslashertitties liked this · 1 year ago
-
ariaversee liked this · 1 year ago -
prettyjay103 liked this · 1 year ago -
mace34 liked this · 1 year ago
-
lunalvrsblog liked this · 1 year ago -
angel-lena16 liked this · 1 year ago -
getmeoutofhell liked this · 1 year ago
-
c0cazero liked this · 1 year ago -
homesickn liked this · 1 year ago -
anothergayrylee liked this · 1 year ago -
hoodjiggaren liked this · 1 year ago -
vitzi9 reblogged this · 1 year ago
