Slashers x reader one-shots {Book 1}

Billy the Doll (Dead Silence) x Gifted! Fem! reader {Part 1}

Scenario:

     Billy has a mind of his own, given to him by his mother since he was her 'perfect doll'. Y/n lives in the same apartment as Jamie and Lisa, given that her home has "mysteriously" burnt down. She can read deep in the past by only locking eyes with someone, which can be either a gift or a curse. Only she can tell you that. The story goes along the plot of the movie, and of course, altered a bit to fit a romance of a possessive puppet and a woman.

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"I'm sorry I had to intrude while it's your anniversary," Y/n said to Jamie, her suitcase limp in her cold fingers, "I didn't expect my house to..."

"It's fine, really," Lisa grimly smiled and looked up at her husband, "right, Jamie?"

     He nodded and looked at Y/n, and in a mere few seconds of looking at her he noticed something was up, and it wasn't the fire that made her look so grim. "Yeah, it's alright with me. Did anything else happen, by the way?"

Lisa glanced at him.

    Y/n looked behind her as if someone spoke her name, but all she saw was a blank white wall and dirt tracks from her own feet. "You wouldn't believe me anyway, I already put so much pressure on you both. In a week I'll be heading off to find somewhere else to stay."

   Lisa scrunched her eyebrows and took a step closer to the woman, "What do you mean we won't believe you? What happened?"

  With a sigh, Y/n looked at Jamie who stood beside Lisa, and said only a few words that told him everything he needed to know, "It was my eyes," and walked off to take a well-needed shower.

    Lisa was more than confused and looked up at her husband, "What does she mean by that? You know what she's talking about! Tell me, please. She's my friend too and I deserve the right to know."

He laid a gentle kiss on her head and led her to the couch, closing the front door with his foot, "Y/n...she has...a gift."

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      The water beaded down my naked body, it felt like years since the last time I showered in such hot water, and yet I still feel dirty and stained while I scrubbed myself. Nearly ripping my skin off.

I had a life before me. I had money and a well-paying job.

      My gift was first discovered when I was nine, ripe and curious. I remember vaguely staring into my father's eyes and having a rush cool down my body as the gift settled, I had asked him about his mother, I think.

     And before he could tell me she 'died' from a stroke, I proceeded to explain to him in perfect detail who she was and events that took hold in her life before she moved to Korea. Living the rest of her life in a small condo near the local cemetery.

It was only then he was scared.

    My grandmother was far from a nice old lady, she found joy in mistreating people around her and eventually found a new hobby along the way. Slaughtering.

     My father participated in many of them, assisting her in every way possible...he loved praise and he didn't care how he got it. To see his mother was proud of him was just enough for him to ignore their hurt screams and the stench of blood in his nose.

      When he grew and married my mother, it became a secret burrowed down in his chest, fearing that he might scare his wife away--to be locked up for what he did. But I knew.