BΣƬЯΛY ΛПD DΣGЯΛDΣ (Various! Creepypasta x F! Reader)

XXXVII

Either way you were met by dead silence other than the creaking floorboards beneath you.

But then it wasn't. As soon as you arrived at the bottom of the stairs the pleasant sound of gunshots and death told you someone was still awake.

And of course as you looked to the couch you found it was Jeff. Stretched out with each of his limbs taking up as much space on the couch as humanely possible. His eyes were drooped into a tired state and his head was leaned back as he absentmindedly watched the television. He obviously wasn't expecting company, nor were you planning on becoming it.

Life was against you though, more specifically, the floorboards were against you. As soon as you went to step away and simply give up the floor squeaked impossibly loud.

Jeff's head snapped in your direction as his eyes immediately widened with sick excitement. "You stalkin' me now or somethin?" He swung his legs over the couch and stood as his grin only widened, "cause y'know you coulda just walked your happy ass over here and said hi."

You had learned over time to never take Jeff very seriously. Yet at the same time you also knew you had to be very careful with how you spoke to him. After all, Hoodie wasn't here to save you.

"Uh no... sorry?" Was the best reply you came up with.

He narrowed his eyes as he sauntered over. As he got closer you picked up on the smell of alcohol and saw the multitude of bottles sitting on the coffee table. He was clearly more than a bit drunk, and with that his southern accent was only getting stronger. "Mhm, better be."

Jeff was looking at you in a way that made you freeze. In his eyes you were his prey. Something to squeeze, or stab, the life out of. You could feel your hands shaking with anxiety and adrenaline. You wanted to run, you needed to run, but you felt like if you moved he'd pounce.

But then he did without even being provoked. His scarred hands seized you before you even registered he'd gotten so close. The smell of whiskey on his breath made you feel lightheaded but even more determined to get away. But with your hands captured by his own and your back now pressed against the wall there wasn't really a way out.

"Let go-!" You started to yell but were interrupted by a hand being slapped over your mouth.

"Sh sh... I just wanna talk." He seemed to purr as the hand firmly holding your wrists squeezed tighter.

"Sometimes I feel like you're avoidin' me..." His face was only a couple inches away from yours by now. "Nobody round here ever pays me any attention, always tellin' me to fuck off and shit."

You almost felt bad for him, but seeing as he was venting to you while you were literally being held hostage you didn't feel much sympathy.

Jeff looked at you with tired and somewhat sad eyes, "and then you... you get along just fine with all a them, but what about me?" His grip got noticeably tighter, "ever think I want someone to talk to? Least ya make an effort with the other fucks, but not me, never fuckin' me." He breathed out in annoyance as you gave a slight effort to free your arms. "We're all stuck ere' in this shit hole together, ain't gettin' rid of me. I can't fuckin' die."

He narrowed his eyes and started to grumble, "and I don't even wanna kill you anymore..."

He didn't? Since when? Why?

Your eyes widened even more. It wasn't like he was really allowed to kill you, you honestly don't know what Hoodie's reaction would be to that, but why didn't he want to anymore? He was a bloodthirsty man who had done nothing but hurt, mock, and insult you. He'd made you well aware of how badly he could hurt you if he ever got the opportunity, but now he had it, and he'd just proved all of your beliefs wrong.

You were really fucking confused.

But he wasn't done. Suddenly he let go of you only to grab you by the arm and literally drag you over to the couch.

Now having regained the ability to speak you sputtered, "Jeff what are you doing?"

Not answering your question he only shoved you towards the couch, "sit."

You weren't sure you had much of a choice so you chose to do as told. Jeff then grabbed an unopened bottle of beer and thrust it into your hands. He didn't wait to see your reaction before he grabbed one for himself and started to drink. Gunfire and yelling still played on tv as you sat and stared at the drink in your hands.

Getting shitfaced at 2am with a literal serial killer while watching some random gang fight move certainly hadn't been your intention for the night, but with your current need of a distraction you weren't really opposed to it either.

4.3 pages · 1,543 words