Baby I’ve Got Half Finished Wips You Couldn’t Even Imagine

MASTER LIST

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Voodoo Doll

The Twilight Saga

Paul Lahote

The Fun Process of Imprinting

DC Comics

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Save Me

Jason Todd/Red Hood

Hope

Garfield Logan/Beast Boy

Comfort

Marvel

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

It’s Ok

Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Yeah, That Happened

Peter (Pietro) Maximoff/Quicksilver

Like Music?

Pitch Perfect

Pieter Krämer

Opposites Aca-Attract

Slashers

Ghostface

Don’t Scream

NCIS

Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Content

Agent Timothy McGee

Nervous Little Thing

Misdial; Redial - Billy Russo

Prompt: Wrong Number AU: Reader is going through hard times and her friend gives her number to a guy who usually helps veterans but won’t say no to a civilian. But instead of talking with a polite man named Curtis she ends up texting with a guy named Billy who’s incredibly witty, funny and maybe gets attached to her but doesn’t want to show his face. Prompter: Anonymous

So this is my 17k word oneshot because I got really inspired by this request. It took on a life of its own. 

Warnings: Discussion of past sexual abuse. Smut. Immediate angst after smut? I don’t know if that deserves a warning or not. Just be kind to yourselves darlings.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

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Free Ride

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Your taxi driver is surprisingly familiar.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Set in London, Jake is driving a black cab in my mind for some reason.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, kisses, awkward silences, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1161

You got into the cab quickly, the cold night air raking its nails over your skin. You pulled your coat a little higher and shivered. 

The bar crawl hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Two of your friends had had to check out early, and a third had hooked up with someone they’d met while getting a round. You’d decided to call it a night.  

“Hi,” you greeted the driver, about to give your address when you pause in surprise. “Steven?” 

Jake freezes, watching your reflection in the rear view mirror. 

“Steven Grant, you, you live on the floor above me.” You smile. “I didn’t realise you drove a cab?” 

He swallows, raising his chin up in a nod, his mind racing. He’d left it far too long to deny it. “I… just, part time.” He spoke quietly, adding a croak to his voice to disguise the difference in accent. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah… cold.” He tapped his throat, “so, erm, home?”

You nod, “yeah. Sorry you’re unwell, hope you feel better soon.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.” 

You nod again, something about the energy in the cab seemed… odd. Different. You were on pretty good terms with Steven since he’d helped you out when you were lugging your shelves up the stairs (they were too wide for the lift.) You chatted when you ran into each other going out or coming back. Somehow you both usually ended up going to the local sainsbury’s at the same time for your weekly shop and had kind of settled into a not exactly planned routine where you would wait for each other and do it together. 

Steven talked. A lot. In the best way possible. Excitedly and passionately. Bubbly and enthusiastic. He genuinely listened as well, asking follow up questions and nodding. But even when he was listening, he wasn’t quiet. Always adding in ‘hmms’ and ‘oh right’, and little snippets of commentary that warmed your heart. 

Now he was quiet. Pulled in and zipped up. 

Maybe it was just the cold making his throat hurt. You’d have to get him something to help, maybe tomorrow you could knock on with some ginger, lemon, and honey tea. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You stilt your head to the side as you watch him drive. He takes a turn smoothly, travelling down the late night roads without as much as a pause. Or a word. 

It just didn’t make sense. 

How unlike Steven he was being. You pause, for a second entertaining the idea that he wasn’t actually him. But that made no sense did it? He’d have to be an identical twin, and besides, he was talking you back to your flat. If he wasn't Steven, how would he know where you lived? 

“I didn’t know you could drive?” You say, speaking up a little to try to hide the spike of nervousness that had settled in your gut. You had been so sure that he’d told you he couldn’t… though had that just been an excuse? A reason to tag along with you when you went food shopping? Was his quietness now embarrassment from being caught out? 

“Hmm,” he nodded, glancing back at you again in the rear view mirror. “I don’t mention it… much.” 

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick at your fingernails as he drums his hands against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. 

The silence stretches out, almost blanketing the low grumble of the engine. It’s sickening. Nerve wrecking. 

“How’s work?” You blurt out, and then quickly clarify. “Both I mean, how’s driving going today and how’s the museum?” He glances back at you again, the action is starting to remind you of a priest in a confessional. 

“It’s all… normal.”

“Normal?” 

“Fine. Normal.”

You don’t speak again until he pulls up by the block of flats, putting on the handbrake and getting into neutral. He puts his hands on his lap, folded neatly with his palms facing upwards.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask.

“Nothing.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s on me.” 

“Stev-”

He turns quickly, flicking off his seatbelt in a practised move so that he can twist his body fully around to face you. 

For a moment you think he’s going to say something, reveal some grand secret but instead he pauses before giving you a very weak smile.

“It’s on me.” His voice is quiet, barely there at all. And, for the briefest second you could have sworn that his accent was different. 

“Thank you.” 

He shrugs politely, dismissing it as if it was nothing. 

Before he can turn away you reach out for his shoulder, the action instinctive and leaving you lost for a reason why you did it.  

He glances at your hand for a second before looking back to your face. 

You lean forward. “Thank you.” You repeat softly, and slowly kiss his left cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away and rebuff you if he wanted to. 

Instead he leans slightly into the touch, swallowing and turning his head towards you. His nose brushes against yours and you think he’s going to turn back to facing the wheel, but instead he presses his lips to yours hesitantly. 

You squeeze his arm, surprised but responsive as you kiss him back. 

He kisses you slowly, but intentionally. Swiping the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip before opening your mouth with his own and licking inside. He groans, low in his chest as the kiss becomes hungrier, boarding on desperation as he presses as close to you as he physically can in his position. 

When suddenly he pulls back, blinking heavily. A mumbled, ‘sorry’, just escaping his lips. 

“It’s okay.” Your voice is quiet too, your mind only just catching up with what happened. 

He turns back, putting his seatbelt on with a click and staring straight ahead. “Have a good night.” 

“I, erm, I’ll see you later.” You mutter as you get out, feeling almost shaky from what just happened. Your thoughts reeling. 

You get up to your flat in a daze. You’d kissed him, well, he’d kissed you. Did that mean anything? Had you done something to chase him off? 

You change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

There’s a soft knock at your front door and you freeze. Wait. 

Maybe it’s a neighbor's door. Maybe it’s noise from another flat.

There’s a knock again, still soft and your phone buzzes. A message from Steven, ‘can we talk?’ 

Fuck. 

You head to the door, checking the peep hole and confirming that yes, it is Steven outside your door. You unlock and open it quickly. 

“Steven, I-”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before he moves forward quickly and kisses you deeply. His hands settle on your hip, the back of your neck as he walks you further inside and kicks the door shut with the heel of his foot. 

____________________________________________

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Yeah, This Happened

IMAGINE: In this alternate universe, Avengers tower gains another superhero resident. Your first interaction with the teen arachnid doesn’t go great, but as time goes on, you find that he’s growing on you. An idea your dad doesn’t exactly agree with.  WORD COUNT: 2.7k  WARNINGS: Over protective Tony

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you to come down here?" You heard your father ask. Rolling your eyes, you make emerge from the kitchen.

"Mr. Stark, Miss Y/N has been on this level for quite some time now," JARVIS commented.

"Yeah dad," you add, pretending to pout. "You didn't see me come out ten minutes ago?"

You see your father grow red before shaking his head. "Shut up Y/N," he chuckled. Getting over his embarrassment, he pulled you into a side hug. "I wanted you to be the first to know-"

"Know what?" You quickly interrupt.

You had gained lots of Tony Stark's traits. Impatience was one of them.

"If you'll be quiet, I'll tell you," your dad continued, leading you to the window. Reaching the glass, he carried on. "We're going to have a special guest over."

A snort escapes you.

"More special than a 96-year-old super soldier. Or more special than a Norse god who likes pop tarts?"

Tony gently smacks the back of your head. "No, but he's just like us. Special." You groan, pushing him off of you.

Another guy? This was just getting stupid.

After Pepper left, it was just you, Natasha and Wanda around the Avengers Tower. Males around here had you at an advantage. Another dude was just going to ruin that.

"If he can keep out of my room, then I'll be okay."

A blur of red and blue shoots down from the ceiling. A gasp leaves your lips as a slim figure shoots out a thick rope-like cord. As it attaches from the hangars, the colored form made sure it was stable before quickly flipping upside down.

"What are you hiding in your room? Drugs? Alcohol? Secret Candy stash?" It asked curiously, it's tone full of playfulness.

As the cable gently swung the red and blue figure closer, you prepared to smack it in the face. Somehow sensing this, the masked thing caught your fist mid swing.

"You're a feisty one," it commented, laughing at your behavior.

As you go to cuss him out, Tony claps his hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it as a warning. "Get down, Peter."

'Peter', hearing his name, groaned but complied to the demand. Flipping backward, he landed perfectly on both feet.

"Is that even legal, Mr. Stark?" He asked, crossing his arms. "You can't just reveal my secret identity! That's against the rules!"

"Hey stupid," you responded, interrupting your father. "I know more heroes than you'll ever meet. I'm sure you won't change that."

"Knock it off," Tony commanded, hiding his smirk. No matter how stern he tried to be, his 'cool dad' persona always won the best of him.

"Y/N won't tell anyone. But that's not what you should be worried about." Looking up, "Those webs better be gone next time I'm in this room. I didn't pay good money to have spider-butt silk hanging from my ceiling."

As he goes on to say more, his trusty phone rang. Exasperated, Tony picks it up.

"Great," he sighs. "Steve says he might have found Bruce." Glancing between you and Bug-Boy, he groans. "Y/N, do me a favor and show Peter around the Tower. I'll be back soon."

To clarify that was that, the billionaire walked out. Rolling your eyes, you turn to your guest. Noticing that he was covered head to toe, you cross your arms. "You can change. It would be a little weird of you to wear your suit 24/7,"

"But my identity..." Peter trailed off. It was obvious he was new at this superhero thing.

"You'll be fine. It's not like Iron Man is going to spill the beans... Again."

Offering more encouraging words, you finally convince him enough to remove the mask.

When the fabric is removed, you're surprised. Peter looked... Gentle. He seemed innocent. He couldn't have been much older than you, and you were only sixteen.

Was this guy a real superhero?

Blinking rapidly, you smile weakly. "Just follow me," you tell him, gesturing with your hands. "I'll show you your room."

"Sounds good," Peter replies, giving you a toothy grin. As he walks your way, something hits him. I mean really hits him.

You can't help but laugh as Peter peels off a duffel bag from his face. "I almost forgot about that," he stated, laughing as he did. "But then it hit me."

Shaking your head at his pun, you wave him over. "Let's go."

As you lead him to his assigned room, he can't help but strike up a conversation. "I never got your name," Peter noted, shouldering his bag. He looks away for a second to tuck away his mask, but quickly averts his attention to you.

"It's Y/N," you reply, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "So, your name... Is it just Peter or are you too cool for that?"

"Parker. It's Parker." He states proudly. "What about you? It can't just be Y/N, no matter how pretty of a name it is."

Pretty? He thought your name was pretty?

A blush covers your cheek as you approach Peter's door. "It's Stark." The teen freezes as he stares at you.

Great, now he was going to think you were just another snobby little rich kid.

He eyes you up and down before cocking his head. "But... You look so different from Mr. Stark. He's... Well, him. And you're just... Really pretty." Your blush worsens as you look down.

"He's not my biological dad," you explain quietly. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “He adopted me a few months after I was born. I took his name and that was that."

It's quiet.

"I think that was really cool of him," you hear Peter comment. Looking up, you see the teen looking at you with a knowing look. "I know how it feels. Being raised by people who aren't your actual parents. But sometimes, it's all for the best."

Softly smiling, you nod. "I couldn't have said it better." The two of you smile at each other before you remember what you were supposed to be doing.

"This is your room," you abruptly state, shaking your head. Carefully opening the door, you motion to him to walk in. Once he does, you follow suit.

"You've got a standard double bed," you point out. "Over there, you have a closet. There's a compartment where you can store your suit." As Peter looks, you open another door.

"This is your personal bathroom. It's your job to keep it in clean. The shower is seven feet by ten, so it’s comfortable. The toilet is... Well, it's a toilet."

Explaining a few more things, you find nothing to talk about. "I guess that's it," you admit. The window catches your eye and you jump up.

"How could I forget about the view!" You exclaim, rushing to the glass. Peter quickly drops his bag before walking over. Pushing away the bland curtains, you show him the scenery.

"This is one of the best rooms. You always have a perfect view of the sunset and the moon looks so bright. You'll love it."

You don't see Peter looking at you. You're oblivious to the way he stares.

"I already do," he whispered.

A few minutes later, you go to leave. Peter had been at your heels until you stop him. "Aren't you going to change?" You ask him curiously. The guy was still in his suit.

"Oh!" He cried, looking down at his attire. "Almost forgot. I'll be out soon."

As he turns around, you quickly catch his attention. "I have to ask," you admit, "but what are you supposed to be? Bug-Boy?"

Peter turns around and grins.

"I call myself Spider-Man."

-

You and Peter got along well. Maybe it was the age similarity? Or your mutual love for comic books? Whatever it was, you were glad for it.

"Did you grab the popcorn?" Peter shouted at you. Clutching the bowl of popped corn, you hurry to the large living room.

How could I forget action flicks?

A couple weeks after Peter had settled in, he suggested having a movie night. You quickly agreed and assigned a random night. Saturday was quickly renamed 'Movie Day'.

Peter quickly grabbed the remote, using his special webbing as you prepared to sit down. "You almost crushed the remote," he complained, holding it close to him.

"I'm going to crush you if you don't stop with the damn webbing," you told him. "You never get all of it and it leaves a nasty mess. It's weird to touch it."

"It's a part of me Y/N," Peter complained. "You can't diss it."

Rolling your eyes, you lean into the couch. Tossing a few popped kernels in your mouth, you laugh. "I should be glad it doesn't come out of your butt. 'Cause that would be a horror movie right there."

Peter laughs as he grabs a handful of popcorn and throws it at your face. He can't help but make a face.

"You love me," Peter chuckled.

Hiding your rosy cheeks, you snort. "Sad thing is, I'd love you even if you shot spider silk out of your butthole."

Amused by your comment, Peter pulled you in closer. "JARVIS, can you dim the lights?" He asked politely.

"With pleasure, sir," the A1 replied, following the command.

Taking the remote from the undercover superhero, you quickly put on the movie. Tonight, it was an action/comedy. One of your favorites, actually.

"We're watching (Favorite Movie)?" You ask Peter. He knew how much you loved it.

"I think it's a good movie," He blubed, thankful that the lights were low. Now you couldn't see his tomato-like face.

Taking his word, the two of you watch the movie in content. After the credits roll up, you yawn.

"That was a great movie," you tell Peter. You found it interesting he never let you go throughout the film.

"It was," he agreed, staring at you. This time, you were aware of his burning stare.

"What are you looking at dork?" You ask him. His dark brown eyes never left your E/C ones as he leaned forward.

"You."

Your breaths mingle as you too lean forward. Just as you're about to meet, the lights suddenly turn on.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Tony demanded.

One hand hovered over the light switch while the other reached into his pocket. He pulled it out to reveal a gauntlet he had been tinkering with. Letting it pulsate, he motioned for the two of you to separate. Both you and Peter are hesitant, but do so, anyway.

Sliding his sunglasses to the bottom of his nose, your father turned to Peter.

"So Parker," Tony said calmly. His glove crackled as he flexed his fingers. "What were you planning on doing?" As the teen stutters, your dad raised his hand, silencing him. "'Cause it looked like you were just about to swap saliva with my kid. Care to explain?"

"It was my fault dad!" You quickly blurt. "I was encouraging him and-"

"Y/N," your father interrupted. "Don't you dare try to defend him. I know how guys think; I AM A GUY!" His face becomes a dark purple as he continues to scream.

"DO YOU REALLY THINK I AM GOING TO FALL FOR THE CLASSIC IT WASN'T HIS FAULT?!"

Taking a deep breath, Tony seemed to calm down.

"What do you intend on doing with my child, Parker?" He asked slowly, letting the repulsor's light glitch.

You knew what he was trying to do. You've seen your father do the same imitation technique on other people before. He'd bring out a piece of the suit, show off its abilities and use it to intimidate his guests. With his glove, he would scare Peter by threatening to use it on him.

"D-Date them, sir..." Peter mumbled, keeping his eyes locked with Tony's. He ignored your shocked gasp as he locked his jaw.

"And what would you do if you dated them?" Your father asked, rolling his wrist.

"Make sure they were happy, sir," the teen replied. "I'd do anything to keep them happy."

"And what would that include?" Tony questioned further. "Please enlighten me on that." You watch him raise a dark brow.

Peter finally tears his eyes away from your dad and swallowing harshly. Deciding, he looks at him once more.

"If Y/N would take me, and found that they were unhappy, I would strip myself of Spider-Man and devote my time to them. If they found themselves no longer interested in me, I would leave, no matter how much it broke my heart."

If looks could kill, Peter would be six feet under.

"I don't believe you. No one in their right mind would give up something as great as power as this."

You saw the teen clench his jaw as he looked towards your dad. You could almost see the pain emitting from him as he replied.

"A good, no- Amazing man once told me that with great power comes great responsibility. Power means nothing to me if I am not worthy of it."

You see Tony's harsh gaze soften as he continues to scrutinize Peter. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hand. "Fine, I'll allow this," he grumbled.

As he walks away, your father looks back once more. "Hey Pete," he called. "You mess up, and I'll tell your Aunt May what you really do in your free time."

When your father leaves, for good this time, you turn to Peter. "That was really... Stupid," you admit, leaning towards him again. "But, I'm glad you did that."

"I am stupid," the brunette replied, also leaning in. "But I'd fight for anything that I know is right."

"Oh? So I'm the right choice?" You ask coyly.

"I don't know. Why don't you show me?" The two of you are so close. Just a little more.

Something whistles over your heads, causing the two of you to look up. An Iron Man helmet hovers in the air, its eyes glowing fiercely.

"Dad," you whine.

"Hey, I said I'd allow the two of you staying in the same room together. I didn't permit any kissing." The helmet shook again as it leaned closer. "This is the only way I can watch you two without invading your privacy is this. SO SUCK IT UP!"

This dad was no longer laid-back; he had to fight off guys with a metal bat. A bat that was wielded by him in his suit.

"Can we at least cuddle, sir?" Peter asked.

The left 'eye' of the mask flickered uncontrollably as it zooms over to Peter's face. "Just cuddling?" Tony demanded.

If he were here in person, spit would be flying.

"Yes, sir. No inappropriate touching. Just talking and hugging."

"Is that even okay?" You heard your father whisper. He must have thought he had turned off his microphone. "Why didn't I pick up that parenting book when Y/N was a kid? This would be so much easier..."

Hearing him fight with himself more, your father finally cleared his throat. "I'll permit that too."

Happy, you and Peter sit closer. Grabbing a spare blanket, the teen generously covers you before taking you in his arms. Feeling comfortable, you relax into his hold until a certain noise catches your attention.

Looking over, you see the mask only a few inches away from your face. What really surprises you is the extra ten staring down Peter.

"That's a little too much, don't you think?" You tell one mask.

"You can never be too careful," Tony replied, his voice multiplied by the speakers.

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

Don’t Scream

IMAGINE: The original Ghostface killers have focused on their new target, you. Their plans change, however, when someone else threatens your life. After that night, nothing will ever be the same for you. Set in modern times! WORD COUNT:  3.4k  WARNINGS: Mentions of blood & gore, shitty ending.

“Darcy, how do you expect Lizzie to accept your proposal if you keep insulting her by bringing up the differences between your classes?” You shout at the tv screen.

Here you were, alone in your house on a Friday night, watching Pride and Prejudice. Fun, huh?

“Matthew, don’t pout like that!” You tell the actor on screen. “You knew this was coming, don’t act like an idiot!”

But how could you stay angry at Matthew for so long? He was only playing his part.

As the scene moves on, you suddenly find yourself distracted by a sudden noise. Thinking it might’ve been your parents, you tentatively call out for them. “Mom? Dad? You guys back already?”

When nothing else happens, you shrug your shoulders and shut everything down. It was getting late anyway, and you just wanted to fall asleep in your own bed.

Just as you finally cleaned up the mess you had made, you were taken aback when the house phone rang. Against your better judgment, you picked up the phone without even looking at the ID on the dim screen.

“Hello, (Last Name) residence,” you utter into the speaker, attempting to seem more awake than you were.

“Hello there,” a voice on the other line drawled.

“Hi,” you reply, scrunching your forehead in confusion. This voice didn’t seem to register in your half-asleep mind as you tried to figure out who it was.

“Who’s this?” You ask politely.

“No one,” the voice answered. “I must have called the wrong number.”

Stifling a laugh, you feel yourself shake your head. “Oh, I hate it when that happens,” you say honestly. “Lemme guess you accidentally butt-dialed me?” 

“No,” the voice chuckled, the smooth tone of it convincing you it was a man on the other side of the line. “I was just-”

You quickly tuned out the man when you heard another noise, slightly louder than the one you heard before. As you try to figure out what it was, you quickly remember your unseen guest.

“-hat noise?”

“What?” You whisper into the phone.

“What was that noise I heard?” The man asked.

“I’m not-” You stick your head around the corner and quickly clamp a hand over your mouth.

A duo of men was standing in front of your open door. They had broken a nearby window from the outside and the door looked like someone had kicked it open.

Seeing as the men had not noticed you yet, you quickly slip back into the living room and search for a hiding spot. A few whimpers escaped your throat, just soft enough for the intruders to dismiss but loud enough for the phone’s microphone to pick up.

“What’s going on?!” The voice demanded.

“There are men… In my house,” you hiss, trying not to catch unwanted attention.

Silence was all you heard. You were afraid they had cut the phone line when the man came back, his voice sounding harsh and cold.

“Find somewhere to hide and stay there,” he commanded stiffly. Your body suddenly hesitated, and for good reason.

You didn’t even know whoever was on the other side of the line, and yet they were here, helping keep you alive. But you quickly snapped out of your trance as you heeded his words. Fear was eating you alive as you struggled to not lose it.

If you weren’t so panic-stricken, you might’ve hung up the phone and called the police!

Pressing the phone to your chest, you sneakily made your way past the burglars as they ransacked your home. You thought your heart would just burst out of your chest as you crept into your bedroom. With shaky hands, you locked the door.

“What now?” You whisper into the phone, terrified that one of your guests might hear you.

“Get in the closet and stay there,” the man ordered.

“I-I…. I c-can’t,” you stutter quietly, finding yourself rooted to the floor. You couldn’t move, no matter how much you wanted to.

“DO IT NOW!” The voice snarled, scaring you out of your wits.

Suddenly frightened at the anger in his voice, you toss the phone away. The fear grew stronger as the device smacked into the wall. The sheer force of it had created a sharp ‘smack’ that rattled you to the core.

Sending out a silent plea that you hadn’t been heard, you hold in a shriek as you hear the men from before start talking to one another.

“Did you hear that, Antoine?” One of them questioned, his voice hoarse and in desperate need of a glass of water.

“Yes, I did. It seems we’re not the only ones here,” came a dark reply, the voice rougher than the sharpest piece of sandpaper.

You could feel the air harshly leave your body as you struggled to gain a proper breath.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to-

Your panicked thoughts were quickly interrupted as you heard the front door slam against the wall. You heard the men shout in alarm as they focused on their new distraction.

The sounds of blood-curdling wails filled your ears as you listened to the men grunt and shout as they fought.

But what was there to fight? Besides the intruders, you were the only one in the house. Surely, they weren’t stupid enough to turn on each other.

“Get away from him!” Said the second man as a series of crashes echoed through the hall. He let out a cry as he too was attacked.

A mangled sob escaped your lips as you listened to the men scream and scream until their pitiful wails suddenly cut off rather quickly.

Tears ran down your face, creating a steady stream that cascaded down your chin like heavy rain. As they fell to the floor, you realized that the third party made himself known as heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway causing a ruckus.

The fear in your chest grew as you realized they were heading towards your room.

Snapping out your immobile state, you rushed to your open closet and hid inside, quietly closing the doors. Almost immediately, you heard someone banging on your bedroom door as they struggled to open it. A series of low grunts reached your ears as you heard someone throwing themselves against the weakening slab of wood.

Definitely going to die. Going to die right now. I will never tell (Favorite Actor) that I love them. I-

You stopped your internal rambling once you realized that you no longer heard that awful banging. You couldn’t help but hope that whoever was on the other side of the door left and wouldn’t return.

What luck you had.

You screamed out into your hand as the door slammed open, falling onto your hardwood floors with another harsh bang. With both hands cupping your mouth now, you tried to control your breathing that came out in short, uneven puffs that resembled a panting bear.

You listened carefully as you looked under the small gap under the closet to watch a dark shadow pace around your room. You heard them shuffle around as they ransacked the area.

The surrounding air grew thick as the shadow suddenly froze. Within seconds, the closet door flew open to reveal your unknown attacker.

A tall figure wearing a Father Death costume glared down at you from above. The mask was splattered with a dark crimson fluid that trailed down the face like murky tears. He carried a hunting dagger coated in the same substance by his side and held it menacingly.

You couldn’t help but stare at the knife as blood dripped to the floor almost hypnotically. The killer noticed you staring and tilted his head to the side as he looked you over.

Guessing that he was planning on how to kill you, you asked for a last request before your time was over.

“Please,” you tell the killer, unable to get your voice louder than a whisper. “Just make it quick.”

You looked away from the messenger of death as he raised the blade. This was it. Your life was over and you’d never taste another (Favorite Snack) again.  

It surprised you when you felt nothing. Not the swing of a knife cutting through your flesh. The pain of having blood filling your throat. Not even the warmth leaving your body as you died.

With stiff movements, you slowly open your eyes, only to see the masked figure offering a gloved hand. Seeing that you were wary, the man twitched his fingers, repeating his silent request. 

“Just take it,” he finally spat.

Recognizing that smooth tone to be the same one from the call, you finally grasp his hand. The second you closed your fingers around his covered palm, he hoisted you to your feet. Once you had your feet firmly planted on the ground, you realized the killer hadn’t let go of you.

The stillness in the room reminded you of what had happened only minutes ago. Just recalling the horrible screams made your skin crawl as you looked at the masked man.

“What happened to those men?” You ask meekly.

When he doesn’t answer, you look at the blade in his other hand. The killer followed your gaze and quickly pocketed the knife.

“I have dealt with them,” was the reply you received. Without another word, the man dragged you out of your bedroom.

“Stop!” You shout at him, immediately tugging at your wrist.

This guy slaughtered two burglars in such a way that made your stomach twist and recoil in ways it shouldn’t. There was no way in hell that you would go with this man willingly.

“Stop struggling,” the man spat out, squeezing your arm painfully as he led you to the front door. You passed the bodies as you did so, and it only made your fear increase tenfold.

“Please,” you cried out softly, catching the man’s attention.

He turned around to face you; his covered eyes boring into your own as he waited for you to speak. Your mouth suddenly became dry as you struggled to talk.

“Don’t prolong the inevitable. Just kill me and get it over with. I know that’s what you’re going to do, anyway.”

The man observed you as you eyed his frozen figure as if he were a predator ready to pounce on his prey. And you were the cute fuzzy bunny the big bad wolf wanted for dinner.

“I will not kill you,” the man told you stiffly. “I’m here to... Help.”

"Help?" You repeated. "But why-"

"Don't ask questions!" The man snarled. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shutting your mouth, you let the man drag you onto your front lawn with no more complaints. It doesn’t stop you from dragging your feet just the tiniest bit. This didn’t go unnoticed by your rescuer.

“Would you stop?!” He practically growled at you. With his free hand, he whipped out his knife he had planned on leaving out of this. “Don’t fight me!”

His words only spurred you to struggle more. This was part of his plan somehow. He would get you to lower your guard, and when you least expected it? He’d rip you apart, just like he did those burglars.

When you refused to listen to him, he let out an angry grunt before bashing the butt of the knife on the back of your head. The sheer force of it sent you tumbling down like JENGA® blocks.

“Son of a-”

It seemed so fuzzy to you. You could register the mask hovering over your face, the steady droning sound in your ears, pale moonlight glimmering on his knife. Then it disappeared out of your line of sight.

If you could think clearly, you would have worried where it was going. Instead, you could only whine softly, slowly blinking as you waited for something to happen.

“They’ll find you here,” you heard him mumble to himself, his voice sounding as if he were underwater. “You’ll be ok.”

What the hell is he talking about?

You stared at the midnight sky behind his head, your mind refusing to focus on anything. The buzzing grew louder, forcing you to shut your eyes. It drowned everything out, leaving you with your rambling thoughts.

For a moment you could think before you felt yourself slip away. The sudden fear overwhelmed you, reminding you of what was happening in the actual world.

Please don’t let me die, not like this.

-

You didn’t remember much after that.

The next time you opened your eyes, you had been in the hospital, attempting to focus on a doctor. With the help of a nurse, they explained you had been attacked. Luckily, someone had tipped off the authorities who rescued you in time before anything else happened.

The interrogation with the cops was a blur. They spun some story about 3 intruders being breaking into your house, with the third one turning his back on his partners and sparing you from his rage.

One officer offered this as being connected to the other murders, but they had shot it down. While they had found records of someone calling the house before the killings, nothing else had fit the profile. They figured the mutilation only occurred because of an unknown argument between the intruders.

They tried pushing you into remembering what happened, but you couldn’t. All you could focus on was the fear you felt at the moment, sending you in tears each time.

It took you a few days after getting released from the hospital, but you finally convinced your parents to let you return to school. You were just so tired of being afraid; you wanted to return to some normalcy.

It was a rocky start. The second you stepped on school grounds, all eyes were on you. You could hear the whispers as you walked by, everyone trying to figure out how you lived. Keeping your head high, you blocked all of it out, intent on putting that behind you.

Unbeknownst to you, you failed to notice two boys during the newfound attention, the two of them sharing unnerving grins as their eyes followed your every move.

-

You couldn’t stop the cry that escaped your throat as you shut your locker, coming face to face with a guy you recognized from your history class. “Fuck!” You practically shouted in his face.

“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his Cheshire grin implying he was anything but sorry.

“It's ok,” you replied, shaking it off. No one says anything at that point, leaving him staring while you shuffled nervously.

“You’re uh... You’re Stu, right?” You asked suddenly. “I sit behind you in history. You’re funny.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he gave a mock bow. “That’s me, at your service!” Stu glanced around the hallway, frowning when he saw teenagers scattered about. “You got anyone to sit with?” He asked.

You shook your head sadly. Your friends didn’t have the same lunch period as you, leaving you munching on your food alone often.

“That won’t do,” Stu complained as he held out his hand. He managed a reassuring smile when you seemed hesitant to take it. “I won’t bite, my friend and I could use the company, anyway. Let’s go.” By the time you had reached the courtyard fountain, Stu practically had you in tears from how hard you were laughing.

You noticed his friend was another guy you recognized class, Billy; you think his name was.

“What’s so funny?” He chuckled, noticing the way you two were struggling to breathe.

“Listen to this,” Stu struggled to say. “The other day, my sister asked me to pass her lipstick, but I accidentally passed her a glue stick. She still isn't talking to me.”

The boy chuckled. “That would be funny, except you don’t have a sister Stu.”

Stu rolled his eyes, gently sitting you down between the two of them. Billy spares you a glance before holding out a bag of chips. When you just stared at it, he rolled his eyes. 

“Do you want one or not?” He finally asked. You a shy nod, thanking him when you took a chip.

“So...” You drawled out, tired of the silence that had fallen on the three of you. That, and you were desperate to know why they were so interested in you suddenly. Both of them look surprised when you voiced your concerns.

“After what happened,” Billy began, “you looked like you just needed a friend.”

“Yeah!” Stu added. “You laugh at my jokes, and you’re pretty easy on the eyes too!”

-

Billy couldn’t help but think about the knife hidden in his backpack as you squirmed in your spot. Stu couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked in those pants.

It had been Stu’s idea to make you Ghostface’s next target. The two had seen you around the school; no one would suspect them if you were killed. You were barely a blip on their radar, publicly at least.

Billy was the one on the phone with you that night, putting on the facade he had contacted the wrong house. It had been going fine until Stu reported that someone was at the front door. He had been posted at the side, waiting for his partner’s word to break into the window.

The two hadn’t counted on their unexpected company to ruin their plans. You were theirs to kill; they would not let two low-life burglars take the money shot.

Stu was the one who ran inside, killing the men with no mercy to spare. He had been the one to sneak into your bedroom, fully prepared to finish you as planned. Billy warned him you had hidden in the closet, the perfect place for an easy target.

There had been something about the way you looked at Stu, your (Eye Color) eyes practically boring into his own. Then, instead of pleading with him to spare your life, you had asked that he kill you quickly. Not a single one of his victims had done that.

Somewhere in his sick, twisted little mind, he couldn’t find it in him to murder you.

It pissed Billy off when Stu returned, admitting that he didn’t finish the job. He had almost gone back to do it himself when Stu wrestled him back.

“They’re different!” The taller one shouted in his ear, attempting to keep the argument as quiet as he could. They were killers in public. “We already got in some kills; the police will never think it was us! And Y/N will never know either!”

It was pure luck that Billy agreed to his partner’s demands. It was the same luck that later spared your life; when it came out that you couldn’t remember the night of the attack, Billy let you live. To ensure that you wouldn’t squeal to the authorities if the memories ever came back, the boys came to the idea that they needed to insert themselves into your life.

“You guys are nice,” you admitted. “But you wouldn’t hurt me, right? I don’t want to get my feelings hurt.”

It wouldn’t just be your feelings getting hurt! Stu thought maniacally.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” Billy assured you, his thoughts straying away from his weapon.

For the moment Billy believed his own words. He could pretend that he and his best friend never tried killing you, befriending you on the idea that maybe you were a good person to be friends with. He wouldn’t have to worry about you discovering that they had plotted to kill you for their demented pleasure.

If things went right in this friendship, you would never have to discover their dark secret.

Keyboard go BRRRRRRRRRR

if being hard on yourself worked, it would have worked by now

I've listened to a few of these tips, please take care of yourselves

depression tips™

shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.

moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over. 

put on clean, comfortable clothes. 

put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.

drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.

clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink. 

blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.

make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something. 

make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.

go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.

call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.

cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.